Tomb Raider

Me: Hello, fanfic! It's been a while. Anyway, after finishing Tomb Raider, I really wanted to start a novelisation of the game, so ... here it is! It'll start from about where the comic (Tomb Raider: The Beginning, to be specific) started so yeah. So in the event that you didn't read the comic, well, here's a novelisation of that too! Do note that I have changed some of the characters' dispositions and backstories in order to suit my tastes a little, so it'll be a fair bit AU. But anyway, enjoy!

FEB 12th 2013: 2:23 pm – Whitman's Office, Virginia, North America

A content Dr. James Whitman sat rather relaxedly in his chair, as he absentmindedly scrolled through recent reviews of Whitman's World on his laptop, with a rather slimy grin on his well-maintained face. His office was lavishly decorated, as any self-respecting TV star's would be. The walls and ceiling were made of varnished rose wood, with decorative patterns etched into some parts. The lights embedded into the ceiling cast a comfortable, golden glow about the room, and the burgundy carpet with the flowery green plants also added to the exquisite nature of the room.

Knock knock! Someone was at the door.

"It's Tom," called the person obsequiously.

"Come in," replied Whitman, his baby blue eyes behind his sleek glasses still glued to the laptop screen. Tom, sharply dressed in a suit, opened the door and smoothly strode across the room, deftly holding a tray of coffee and a folder, and quickly placed one of the coffees down onto Whitman's desk.

"So how's my favourite client, huh?"

"That's a chai latte you have there right?" asked Whitman, finally bothering to look up.

"Of course it is? What else would I get you? Anyway, the network's just told me that season two's figures are doing alright," said Tom, words spilling out like a corporate tool.

"What do you mean by alright?"

"Don't panic, they've commissioned for season three. Oh, and by the way, I've got the crew list here."

Tom casually placed the folder onto Whitman's polished wooden desk, next to his laptop. Whitman slowly took off his glasses, and gently placed them onto the desk, and opened the folder, absentmindedly flipping and reading through the files. Tom moved over to Whitman's left, peering over his shoulder in curiosity.

"An ex-cop, huh? That's a little much for an expedition," commented Tom.

"Well, Roth insisted that he pick his own people," replied Whitman.

"Huh. Could these guys really find the lost something, uh ... what was it, Yami-something?"

"Yamatai. Anyway, I'll be heading to their boat in Plymouth tomorrow to get started on the interviews."

"So, there'll be some big guy, a senior, and – whoa, that's a pretty nice one," said Tom, stopping at a certain woman's file.

"Lara Croft. Croft ... now where have I heard of that name?" asked Whitman to himself, his brow furrowing.

FEB 13th 2013: 8:35am – Lara's Dormitory, London, England

This was it. Lara's heart was racing as she continually sorted through her belongings one last time, meticulously rifling through her notebooks and stationery, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything. It was her first, real expedition as a graduate archaeologist; no more games and pretending. Lara had managed to secure a contract with a respectable museum in Japan for the discovery of Yamatai aboard the Endurance, alongside the filming of the third season of Whitman's World.

The brunette couldn't help, but feel a magical sense of giddiness and a bit of age, seeing as she was now 21 and not a 9 year old playing around on a salvage ship. Lara's luggage was sparse and minimal; her only suitcase was filled mostly with notebooks and spare clothes, as well as a few toiletries. Even the suitcase was a little aged and well-worn; it was obvious Lara didn't care much for appearances.

The brunette then zipped up her suitcase, collapsed on her large bed, and stared at the ceiling. The room was, ironically, well-decorated and had a classy air about it, clashing against Lara's casual outfit and suitcase. The brunette checked her watch, and then hauled herself off her bed, and went through her dorm to make sure everything was turned off. And then, just in case, and partially because of her untamed excitement, Lara opened up her suitcase, and went through its simple contents just one last time.

FEB 13th 2013: 12:46am – The Endurance (Millbay Docks), Plymouth, England

After jetting over from America, and taking several expensive escorts, Whitman, along with a cameraman and a makeup lady, had arrived at the Millbay Docks, in Plymouth, where the journey for Yamatai would begin. As the TV star made his way through the docks, two figures stood at the portside of the Endurance, watching Whitman with slight looks of disdain, with one drinking from a can of irn-bru.

"I'm surprised it was worth so much."

"Well, that's what selling your soul looks like."

Whitman, at the foot of the ramp, glazed his eyes over the ship that would soon discover a lost kingdom. And it did not disappoint. The ship shined in the bright sunlight with its distinctive white and blue paint, with several cranes and impressive machinery in standby at the bow of the ship. The deck of the ship was a little rusted from age, but still looked very much fit for operation. The various rooms of the ship stacked onto each other, and metal stairs lined the deck, with radio equipment standing tall above the rest of the ship. The ship itself stretched out enormously, taking up a large spot in the docks, only accentuating its magnificence.

Whitman then professionally walked across the deck and greeted the two old men with a charming smile which used almost like a tool.

"Good to meet you, captain," greeted Whitman, shaking the captain's hand.

"Call me Roth. This is Angus Grimaldi, my helmsman," said Roth, with a heavy Yorkshire accent. He gestured to the other man, who nodded to acknowledge Whitman, who looked at the two a little more closely. Roth was probably in his late 40s, his white hair in a crew cut, and his lower face lined with stubble. He wore a rugged, brown military jacket with a dark orange and white undershirt, and cargo pants, all of which were complete with several straps and harnesses for pouches, a switchknife, radio, and a gun holster.

Grim looked to be at least in his 60s, his semi-flushed face, big nose, and chinstrap beard marking his face. His clothing was a little more casual; a Scottish sweater with a brown leather jacket, along with tattered jeans.

"Just call me Grim," said the older man, with an even heavier Scottish accent.

Conveniently, Lara chanced upon the three men, after checking out the bridge of the ship. The brunette stopped for a moment, pausing in a silent shock, and she somewhat nervously made her way down the metal stairs, her boots making a metallic thunk with each step, and her hand involuntarily caressing the rails almost like a safety guard. She had to look her best in front of Dr James Whitman, after all.

"Oh, here she comes. This is Lara Croft, one of our deckhands and a graduate archaeologist. You probably won't see her all that much, since she'll be too busy writing down a shit ton of notes," joked Roth with a cheeky but good-hearted grin. Lara felt a little embarassed, but laughed it off with a smile.

"It's an honour. I've watched all of your shows," said Lara, shaking Whitman's hand.

"It's always good to meet a fan. Now, we should probably get started on the interviews, Roth," smiled Whitman, nodding in approval to Lara's admiration of him.

The three men and Lara, along with the cameraman and makeup lady all headed down to another section of the ship, on the promenade deck. Lara found a nearby spot on the sun deck above a few stairs to lean on, next to her sunbathing friend, a certain Samantha Nishimura, who was reclining relaxedly in her beach chair, dressed in a rather skimpy red bikini and a pair of stylish sunglasses, in front of her young Eurasian face complete with luscious black hair in a parted style.

Whitman's crew quickly assembled themselves into filming position, sitting Roth and Grim on a cargo box, and powdering up Whitman, who seemed to enjoy being ... well, powdered up.

The cameraman set up his tripod, mounting his specialised camera onto it. Roth and especially Grim didn't like being constantly watched and recorded by a big, black box with a shiny eye, but at least they were getting paid well for it. At least. Samantha, on the other hand, spotted the camera from the corner of her media-savvy eye, and she literally jumped out of her seat, whipped off her sunglasses and leaned over the edge of the railing to catch a glimpse of the camera.

"Oh. My. God. It's an Alexa!" squealed Sam melodramatically, striking an over-the-top pose.

"Sam! Don't disturb them!" scolded Lara apprehensively at her over-enthusiastic friend. It was something she did quite often, seeing as Sam was always dragging her into ridiculous situations or getting herself into one.

"Oh, but I haaave to! It's just too beautiful!" exclaimed Sam, as she excitedly hopped down the stairs and pranced her way to the cameraman, also shamelessly and flirtily showing off her body.

"It's an Arri Alexa, isn't it?" asked Sam with a big, cheesy grin on her face.

"Yep, the plus," replied the cameraman, surprised by the girl's camera knowledge and her forwardness.

"I've got the studio version. Digital's the only way to go, isn't it?" speeled Sam dreamily.

"AHEM! Let's not lose the light here!" called Whitman, a little peeved that Sam had stolen his 'light.'

"Sorry, she's a camera nut," apologised Lara, who was attempting to pry her friend away from the camera to no avail.

"Dr Whitman, this is my friend, Sam Nishimura. We went to uni together," introduced Lara, pointing at her grinning friend.

"I'm not part of the crew. I'm just keeping Lara company, and topping up my tan, which is coming along pretty nicely, if I do say so myself," said Sam.

Meanwhile, the makeup lady and Grim seemed to be having a mini war on his appearance, his drink and God knows what.

"Ain't no powder's gonna help our faces, lass," quipped Grim disdainfully at the woman's attempt.

"Well, at least let me take your drink," pleaded the lady, exasperated at Grim's mule-like stubborness.

"Nope. The bru stays with me."

"Uh, we'd rather you didn't drink in front of the camera," retorted the woman, now beginning to get a little cranky.

"Not brew. Irn-bru! Finest drink in the world!"

"Oh my god, just let him have the damn thing. We have to start!" whined Whitman, obviously a pro at it. He was probably more concerned about cameras on his face rather than actually getting work done.

The cameraman then signalled for the cameras to start rolling, and with an instinctual twitch, Whitman slid into his TV personality, and instantly put on a toothy smile, and looked kindly at the camera. Roth and Grim had only seen Whitman for 10 minutes, and yet they could see everything about him. A successful man with his soul traded to TV and big, fat paychecks.

"Hello, it's Dr James Whitman again, and I'm here with Captain Conrad Roth and his helmsman, Mr Angus Grimaldi."

"Grim," hissed the older man gruffly.

"So, I believe you two gentlemen have been going on expeditions together for over 20 years?" queried Whitman, completely unfazed and unacknowledging of Grim's comment.

"What he doesn't know about ships isn't worth knowing," praised Roth in a way only lifelong mates do.

"If it's wet, I can sail on it," grinned Grim.

"Tell us one of your adventures."

"Remember Somalia, Grim?" said Roth, turning to his friend.

"Aye, but I think we got ourselves something more important to worry about," commented Grim, pointing to the opposite side of the ship.

A thick cloud of black smoke was billowing out of the ship, a dangerous and unlucky sign.

"Shit! It's coming out of the engine room," cursed Roth, banging his fist on the cargo box.

One of the deckhands came up to Roth, looking out of breath.

"Ho-How the hell have you kept this afloat for so long?!" panted the deckhand with annoyance.

"Can you fix her?" asked Roth concernedly.

"Probably not. It'd take weeks, and even that's stretching it."

"We don't have bloody weeks!" retorted Roth, his frustration growing.

"I guess you'll just have to pray for a miracle then, huh?" said the deckhand, crossing his arms.

"Or you could phone one," said Grim mischievously, as he gleefully watched Roth's face contort into an even more worried expression.

"She ... she's not gonna be happy."

Me: Okay! That's the first chapter! I'm not too used to writing so seriously, but oh well! Tomb Raider's awesome. It's not the most Tomb Raider-y game ever, but it was fun, and I'm going to be squeezing every last drop of potential plot stuff out of it! Anyway, expect more storyline/character changes. Also keep in mind that my chapters will usually be shorter than this. And while you're at it, please review or something!