A/N: Hello there, welcome to another chapter of Ghost Raider Tomb Recon.

Special thanks goes out to Carleen, who has taken the time to Beta this story.

…

The streams flowed throughout these regions of the mountains, combining into a powerful waterfall. Lara kept on the main pathways, constantly weary of other cultists.

"Damn this is good stuff," she heard a man say.

"If you show up to the ceremony drunk, Father Mathias will cut your throat," another warned.

"I can hold my liquor as long as you can hold your tongue."

Croft dropped to a knee and hugged the stone fencing with wooden stakes protruding from the top. She peered down onto the platform below and saw three men milling about in a garden. There was a wooden table to one side with a bottle of wine.

She couldn't find a way around them; she had to go through them. Kill them like she had with the others. Slowly unslinging her bow, she drew an arrow back and aimed. The arrow loosed and sliced through the air, striking a cultist in the temple. He toppled over silently, falling over the railings, unnoticed by his brothers.

"I heard they picked up some women in the round up," the second brother said.

"Yeah," the first confirmed. "Mathias chose one for the test."

"Well, maybe she's the one?" the second asked hopefully. "We might finally get off this rock."

"Don't get excited, it always ends the same way."

Sam, they were talking about Sam. They wanted her for a ritual. She had to stop them. Whatever ritual it was, it involved insane men and a young woman. Regardless of the outcome, it couldn't be good. She didn't want to kill these men, but she had to. The second one seemed like a kinder heart, but she knew he would kill her all the same. These were desperate men.

Drawing another arrow, she aimed at the second one. She hoped that the first would be slight impaired by the alcohol. The arrow left her grip, the bow slinging it forward. The tip pierced the man's chest, burying itself into his heart.

Lara turned her attention to the last cultist. He dropped his bottle of wine and snatched his bow, but it was too late. The arrow found its mark, spilling his blood.

She made her way down towards the garden, listening for any other cultists. But only the winds accompanied her. Searching the bodies, she almost gagged on their horrid smell. Some of these men hadn't washed of weeks, and it really showed. She scavenged what arrows she could and left for the lower regions of the mountain.

She followed down the footpath, but found that it was blocked off by an avalanche. There was a wooden post, angled towards a mesa within the valley. Atop of that mesa was a Feudal Japan era gazebo. Croft pulled an arrow with a rope at its end from her quiver.

Balancing it between her fingers, she drew the bow and let the arrow fly. It dug itself into a pile of thatch would and drew the rope across the chasm. Giving it a tug, Lara checked to see if it was secured. Satisfied that it would hold her weight, she wrapped it around the wooden post – what was left of the bridge that had been here many years ago.

She placed her climbing axe across the rope, and used it like a zip line. Pushing off from the cliff, she shot across the chasm. She had to time everything perfectly. Before hitting the wall, she let go of her left hand, and dropped onto the deck with a skid.

A slight jarring pain shot through her knees and ankles as she hit the timber. But she was okay. Nothing serious.

"Oh god, that was close," a familiar voice rang over the radio. "Are you there?"

"I'm here, Sam," Lara answered. "Are you okay?"

"What do they want with me, Lara?" the woman panicked. "A fire ritual? This is so fucked up."

Lara rushed to the edge of the mesa overlooking the monastery. Sam had to be in there. That's what she last heard.

"Listen," Croft breathed, holding the radio with both hands. "I'm coming to get you. I'm going to get you out of there!"

Please, please help me, Lara," Sam begged.

"I promise. I promise, Sam," Lara said, pacing around the platform.

"Hey! She took your radio!" a male voice crackled.

"Oh no!" Same screamed. "Aaah! Aaah! Help me! Please!"

"Sam!? Sam!?" Lara cried.

Her breathing intensified, her chest heaved as her heart thrummed. A fiery hand ran the length of her spine as fear began to grip her. Her hands wrapped tightly around the radio, white knuckles standing out against her pale skin.

"Stay away from her, you bastards!" Lara roared. "Stay away!"

"No! No!"

Anguish cries flowed from the radio. Croft couldn't do anything, she felt absolutely helpless. She needed to make it down to the Monastery.

"Fuck!" Lara hissed.

The platform led off to another. There was no bridge or rope, but she could make the jump. Taking a step back, she sprinted forward and pushed with all her might. Soaring through the air, she came crashing down into a pile of mud. Thankful that the grittier mixture had softened her fall, Lara pulled herself up, and found another zip line.

Latching on, she pushed off the rock face and sped down onto the hut roof top. Simple enough… or so she had hoped. The rotten timber gave way underneath her. She plummeted onto the ground and over the ledge. But out of pure instinct, her fingers wrapped around a protruding root. A sharp pain shot through her arm as she came to a bone jarring halt. She could see the pebbles fall down the cliff and shatter on the rocks.

"Whoa, what the hell was that?" a cultist gasped, turning around to look.

"I don't know, another part of the plane?" another suggested.

"Keep working," the first ordered. "I'll go check it out."

"Whoa, the tank is full!" a cultist gasped.

"Don't let it bleed out, man!" another cried. "That stuff is gold!"

The leader if the group turned around and looked at the overflowing tank, having forgotten his original task.

"Dammit, we need something to hold it."

Lara didn't give them a moment to move. This opportunity was too good to give up. She pulled out her pistol and aimed for the overflowing pot of petrol. Squeezing the trigger in quick succession, the sparks lit the precious liquid.

"Jesus! What the fuck!" the leader screamed.

Spinning on his axis, he brought his shotgun to bear. But it was too late. The fire had spread and the fuel tank blew. The powerful shockwave tossed the men over the mountain as a wave of heat washed over her. Lara took cover inside the shack, shrapnel digging into the timber, before pressing her advantage.

She moved into the clearing and stopped by a pathway up to the plateau. Already, more men were on their way. Steadying her pistols sights on the passageway, she waited.

The first man entered her sights. Not a sound escaped his lips when the bullet tore through him. He just clutched his chest and fell to the ground dead.

"Holy shit!" a cultist behind him cried.

Lara was already on the move, changing position. The cultist was prepared, with a submachine gun, he sprayed the open field. Croft waited behind the bushes. The man slowly entered the opening, scanning his environment. His breathing was quick and short, his nervousness giving way to fear.

Now was her chance. She holstered her pistol and drew her bow once more. The arrow flew through the air, and found its mark in his jugular. The man thrashed only for a moment before falling silent.

She waited again, waited to see if anyone was coming. But no one came. Removing herself from the shadows, Lara scavenged whatever munitions she could, and moved on.

There was another river crossing she had to traverse. The currents was strong and unforgiving, with white caps in its small waves. Wooden stakes stood out like jagged teeth, the bridge washed away a long time ago.

"No way around," she said to herself. "Got to cross here."

She slowly waded into the water, the cold seeping in through her clothes. Carefully, she moved from one timber strut to another, feeling the current squeezing her against the timber. The water was so unbearably cold, her teeth began chattering.

Lara balanced herself precariously, and pushed off through the water at an angle. The currents readjusted her, pushing her towards the edge. Quickly, her hands snatched a hold on a rung. She pulled herself back to the safety of the pole. But her luck didn't hold out.

The timber cracked and splintered, and the current did the rest. Lara was lifted out of the water, and tossed over the waterfall. The air rushed past her, screaming in her ear as she fell with the white torrential curtain. Her screams were drowned out by the cascading water.

The current pulled her down; its cold hands wrapped around her wounds and numbed her mind. She had to get out, but it was so obscure. Dozens of branches and rocks scraped against her, tearing clothes and skin. She felt water flood her chest as she desperately clawed at the harness of her gear to lighten the load. Struggling against the waters, she felt something hit her knee. There was a tree branch in front of her, instinctively she reached out to grab a hold and slowly pulled herself towards the light.

Breaking onto the embankment, she breathed a sigh of relief. She stumbled, pulling herself up, feeling a sharp pain ripple from where she had been punctured. Wiping her hand away from the spot, she saw blood. The wound had been opened again.

She stumbled into a small opening, clutching her wound. Looking up, her eyes fell upon a town of slums. She was in a valley, and the sun was beginning to dip over the summit of the Limestone Mountain. Atop three peaks were towers reminiscent of Feudal Japan or ancient China. Stretched across the narrowest point of the valley was an archway bridge.

Below, was a shanty town, with a wrecked rescue helicopter as its centrepiece. There was man, hanged upside down from a tree branch, his lifeless body dangling over a perimeter of barbed wire. Carefully she entered the compound, hoping that there would be something to treat her wounds.

It was like the slums, the smell of rust and mould was made ever so evident through the humid air. She walked gently across the muddied roads, conscious of the squelching sound from her boots.

"We caught a prisoner hiding in the chop shop," a man said. "The Somalis putting the screws on him now.

Lara quickly darted towards a shack, her wounds screaming in defiance. Spotting a small crevice into the foundation of the shacks, she glided into the water. The smell assaulted her senses and kicking in her gag reflexes.

"Shit," she hissed quietly.

She had an open wound, and this was sewage water.

"What about the other one?" another cultist asked.

"No, nothing," answered the first. "Gotta keep looking."

"Alright, let's check around the chopper."

Croft carefully waded through the water, ducking under support struts and crawling through tight spaces. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as she followed the clogged causeway.

"Where is the old man?" a deep voiced growled.

He had a light Somali accent.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about... please…" another begged. This one had an American accent.

"You are lying… I know you escaped with him!"

"Please! I don't," he coughed, the hoarse buckling of his chest echoing throughout the shacks.

"May be I need to loosen your tongue," the Somali threatened menacingly.

There was a pregnant silence.

"Tell me! Tell me where he is!" the interrogator roared.

"No! Argh!" the man gurgled.

The unmistakable sound of a blade piercing flesh repeatedly, punctuated through the sheet metal. Lara heard the man's blood curling gurgle grow softer until it was drowned out by the stabbing.

Seconds later, she heard the footfalls as someone picked the body up. Lara had a gut feeling she was going to see it soon.

A white pale corpse dropped down into an opening, landing on a pile of trash with a thud. He was only wearing a singlet and boxers, the white soiled fabric covered in blood.

"Oh dear god," Lara whispered, seeing the bruised body.

She didn't recognise him, but she felt sorry for the sane soul on the island which had few.

"Hey get back to work!" a man ordered. "Show's over."

There was a light at the end of the tunnel. Lara pushed forward, and slowly stepped out of the water. Her hand drifted to her sidearm, ready to draw it and fire.

"What the hell's going on in there?" another man asked.

"The Somali. He lost his temper," the leader answered nonchalantly.

"Again?" another chuckled. "Any sign of the old man?"

"No, he's a tough bastard but he can't hide long."

"What about the other ones?"

"We got 'em locked up in the caves."

"I don't understand… why is Father Mathias keeping them alive?"

"Because of the girl, they were trying to rescue her," the first explained. "Mathias might want to keep them alive as leverage."

"Goddamn. I hope she's the one. We've been waiting so long."

They wanted to get off this island. Lara knew that she was supposed to sympathise with them, but she couldn't. These men had descended into madness and insanity. They may sound and act normal, but they just watched another man die a slow and painful death without any remorse.

Croft peered at the edge of her hiding spot. She saw the two men talking. But without warning, both of them dropped like puppets with no strings. Their bodies slumped against the walls, blood trailing behind their wake.

…

Two down, John said to himself.

He kept his rifle raised and ready, holding the foregrip and flexing his fingers. Rounding a corner, he found two more men, one sleeping and the other reading a book. The Operator drew his pistol and silently crept up to the avid reader.

Keeping the sidearm hovering at the base of the man's skull, he squeezed the trigger. The cultist jolted and fell limp as the bullet silently drilled through his skull and buried itself into the man's lap. Kozak gently eased the body forward and holstered his FN57 suppressor.

Turning to the cultist in deep slumber, John plunged the blade just below the sternum, and wrenched the knife up would. The man's eyes shot open, his screams muffled by a gloved hand. Kozak watched the life drained out of him as his eyes rolled back into his head. The soldier drew the blade, wiped the blood on his kill's clothes.

He wished the plane's cargo had different barrel types for the HK417A2, but only the standard 16-inch accurized barrel was available. At least there was a SOPMOD kit with extended double mags to go with it. Having 12-inch barrel would allow him to have an easier handling of the weapon in tight spaces, such as this town. The added silencer wasn't really helping with the length issue, but at least it helped conceal him.

Quietly backing out of the room, he followed the back passage of the shanty town, mindful not to step on any corrugated sheet metal.

Creak…

Shit.

A timber floor board had cracked and splintered.

"What the?" a man cried.

Cover blown!

With no time to react, Kozak charged the Somalian. The man was tall in stature and had a relatively strong build. But it wasn't enough to stop the heavily armoured Ghost from rolling over him. The Operator slammed his shoulder into the dark skinned man, knocking him onto the floor boards. He brought his rifle to bear, seeing the flash of fear in the Somalis eyes.

Trigger pulled, a single round left the barrel and stabbed through the man's heart. Kozak heard the splash of water below as the body fell limp.

Pulling back from the body, John heard more men rush his way. The sound of their boots echoing on the hollow deck was unmistakable. Quickly, he retreated into the corner by the door and waited to spring his one-man ambush.

"What the hell?" the first man roared as he entered. He turned to his left, but like the Somalian, it was too late.

Plunging the blade into his neck, Kozak slammed the cultist against the door frame whilst raising his sidearm. A brief expression of horror registered across the second cultist's face before the Operator squeezed the trigger, sending a bleeding body onto the deck. In the span of a heartbeat, the Ghost had already opened fired on multiple targets trailing behind their melee vanguard. Most would not live to see the next day.

"Oh shit! He's tearing us apart!"

Advancing forward, he holstered his pistol and unslung the HK417. The flimsy buildings and poorly stacked crates didn't stand a chance against 7.62 AP Calibre rounds – nor did the men huddling behind them. Woods splintered, sheet metal ripped and blood spilt as Kozak exchanged fire with the militia.

But his accuracy and aggression was unnerving them. The ones armed with ranged weapons retreated further back into the compound, whilst those armed with blades charged him in vain. No rounds wasted, he had trained for weeks optimising his accuracy in the killing house. Now, he'd get to put it all to use.

Target left, his inner voice barked.

The rifle pivoted to bear, spat two rounds, spilling brain and bone onto the mud.

Target twelve high.

He spotted a demolition specialist, perched atop a shack. The Operator spotted the flare of a lit fuse. Sending three rounds down range, he watched the demolition combatant shook violently as the first round punched through the sternum; second one hitting the shoulder and the third smashing through the jaws. The stick of dynamite clattered onto the roof and rolled along the sheet metal.

A ball of smoke and flames wash across the shacks, knocking vital support struts over and collapsing a large section of the shanty town.

Kozak smiled to himself inwardly. The debris would cost reinforcements time to get to him.

Target right, low.

The Operator returned to the task at hand, bringing his rifle to bear on a charging militia. Exhaling, he squeezed the trigger and watched the man's forehead explode. The militiamen dropped to the dirt like a puppet without strings.

Clear.

No targets left. Just the sound of flames licking hungrily at the dry wood and the howling winds was there to keep him company.

"Kozak?" a feminine voice called.

He turned around, rifle at the ready. But she had both hands held up. Judging by the way she walked and the blood, the wound on her lower left was causing her issue. Her clothes were tattered, covered in blood and grime. Her hands were bloodied and raw, and her brunette locks were matted with mud.

"I'm Lara Croft."

"It's okay Kozak, she's a recent survivor," his COMs squawked. "Last known location, she was on a research ship named Endurance. Ship's last known heading was the Dragon's Triangle before it's GPS signal died in a storm."

...

It was obvious that the man was Kozak. He had the US flag on his arm, the unique multi-cam pattern on his fatigues.

Looking into his black visor and ghostly face mask, she could see her own battered reflection. He hesitated only for just a moment before lowering his weapon. Moving to her side, he draped one of her arms across his shoulders and helped her to the safety of shelter.

"Probably more on the way," he said, setting her down in a corner. "I need to treat the wound before we can move."

"Cauterise it," she said.

Kozak shook his head.

"Infection, we can't risk that. I'll put some antiseptic and dressing on it."

"No… it'll only burst again," Lara argued.

His shoulders dropped a bit as he shifted her weight.

"Okay, we'll check the chopper."

As fast as humanly possible, they made their way to the downed bird. The bay doors were open, and it appeared to be levelled. Evidently, the militia would've most likely placed the helicopter on the makeshift stage.

Lara gritted her teeth and hissed slightly as she felt her wound tearing. Kozak was doing his best to support her, shifting her weight carefully. Easing her down onto the bench, the US soldier went to search for anything of use on the dead pilot.

"Got a lighter," he said in his Brooklyn accent.

"Thanks."

"Wanna reconsider?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.

Croft shook her head. After the number of falls she had taken, this wound had to be closed.

"Alright, I want to check it first though."

"Sure."

Lara rotated to her right, displaying her left side towards him. Gingerly, she lifted the hem of her top and slowly rolled it over the wound. Her breathing quickened as fiery pinpricks shot through her stomach, causing her to wince.

"Easy, easy," he said softly.

The wound was still fresh, but possibly infected. Cauterising would speed the incubation of bacteria. Kozak reached into his medical pouch, and produced a bottle of antiseptic. A sharp fiery sensation spread from her wounds as he sprayed the agent onto her wound, but soon it was replaced by a tingling numbness.

"Puncture has gone all the way through. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Croft nodded, and produced a knife from her sheathe.

"Ready?"

Croft nodded.

Holding both blades, Kozak positioned the searing hot metal an inch away from the wound. He gave Lara a slight nod, and then without warning, a fiery had squeezed her side. A guttural raw escaped her lips as her flesh was cooked. Quickly, the Operator removed the blades and applied a cooling salve.

"Aaah god!" she screamed.

She felt the skin around the wound cool and numb as she leaned back into the support webbing of the hold. Lara's breath slowed, her chest rising and falling heavily as a slight whimper escaped her lips. It wasn't her skin that had burnt and fused, but the sinews of muscle beneath as well.

"Easy, you're gonna be okay," Kozak reassured her.

Taking another deep calming breath, Croft blinked to clear her vision as she pulled the hem of her tops back down.

"Here, drink this," he said, offering her a juice pack.

"Thank you."

She pulled the straw from its plastic wrap, and stabbed it into the insertion nozzle. The sweet liquid flowed and soothed her dry throat. Lara kept on drinking until she squeezed the pack empty.

"Good to go?" Kozak asked.

Croft nodded.

She pulled herself back up and moved to the doors. She saw the plume of smoke and column of fire in the huts up ahead. It was probably a signal of sorts. Reaching behind her, she unclipped her radio and clicked the broadcast.

"Roth, can you hear me?"

The radio squealed and crackled.

"Roth?"

Kozak had moved beside her, rifle in hand. He was tall in stature, and had quite an intimidating build – or maybe it was the armour and the ghost mask.

"Lara! Are you okay?" her mentor's voice rang.

"I'm fine," she sighed.

"You don't sound fine to me."

"I'm fine, Roth," Lara insisted.

"Where are you, girl?"

"I've linked up with a soldier from the states. We're in some kind of shanty town, near the fortified palace."

"I'm still coming down the hill. How did you get there so fast?" Roth asked, surprised.

"Long story."

"I can see the town from here… Are you near the large gate?"

Lara panned her eyes across the rusted rooftops of the slums, her sights resting on a two large metal slabs.

"It's the outsider!" a cultist bellowed, firing a flare into the sky.

Dozens of men poured through into the town, most were armed with crude melee weapons.

"Oh shit!" Croft hissed.

Tucking away her radio, she drew her pistol and took cover. She felt exposed without her weapons, but she had to let them go, or be drowned in the torrential currents.

Kozak had already dropped to a prone position, resting his weapon's foregrip on the timber balcony. Every time he fired, it sounded like a soft whip crack. Scores of men fell in the first minute. No rounds wasted. Spent shells clattered onto the deck beside him, smoke curling up from the hot brass.

"Target the rushers. I'll take the ranged guys," he said.

While he kept his eyes trained on the roof, Lara concentrated and squeezed. The Beretta 92B bucked in her hands as the 9x19mm Parabellum rounds left the barrel. One of the shots caught a man in the nasal cavity. The arterial spray doused his teammates in blood as he fell to the ground, still and silent.

"Running!" Lara warned.

"Alright, swap," Kozak ordered.

He pulled back from his position, and rose to a crouch with his upper left arm rested on his knee. Aiming down his sights, the Operator unleashed a devastating volume of fire, dropping scores of men at a terrifying rate. But he was burning through his ammunition quite quickly.

Lifting the rifle and angling it just a bit, he flicked the quick release and cycled the dual magazine. Once he had burned through a pair, there was a crucial lull in fire which the cultist exploited. Kozak quickly flicked the release and caught the spent mags. Tucking them inside his webbing, he quickly produced another one and slotted it into the weapon with a satisfying click.

He was fast, but Lara knew that the time spent storing the clips could cost them. She guessed that he could be carrying spare ammunition, which was why he was saving the magazines for later use. She picked up the slack for him when he was reloading, keeping the cultists suppressed and picking off anyone stupid enough to run into the open.

When Kozak reloaded, the slaughter would begin anew. His armour piercing rounds just ripped through the corrugated iron with ease. It was as if he had seer abilities, sending rounds through the most likely positions.

"Move around them!" a cultist ordered. "Go in from the side."

"Time to move, let's go," Kozak urged.

Men soared into the battle on ziplines. The Operator didn't even bother to stop as he fired his weapon. Lara kept her pistol at a low stance to conserve ammunition. She would only fire if there was someone Kozak couldn't hit in time.

The cultists roping in were shot out of the skies. Their grips slackened as the rounds hammered into their unarmoured bodies. Croft could hear the sickening wet crunches as the bodies slammed onto the ground.

She wondered if these men possessed enough sense to stop attacking. A soldier was slaughtering them by the handful. But seeing a cultist rush to snatch up a submachine gun, she doubted it. The man tried to bring the weapon to bear, but before he could fire, NATO round found his heart. The temporal cavity was more than enough to pulverise it and bruise the surrounding organs.

Reaching a new position, Kozak dropped to a crouch and took cover behind a stack of timber. Arrows streaked through the air, embedding itself into the weathered material.

"Shouldn't be too many left," Kozak yelled.

She watched him cycle through his dual clips, and fire three rounds in quick succession. Smoke billowed at the barrel and side port as the bullets left the chamber. More cultists arrived, armed with WWII era weapons. The poorly kept weapons were inaccurate, the shots fired wildly. But it only takes one to bring down a man.

"How do you like fire, outsider?" a cultist bellowed.

A stick of dynamite was tossed into their position. Without hesitation, Lara dived for the sparking red cylinder, snatched it with her hands, and hurled it back with all the force she could muster.

A plume of smoke swept through the town as an invisible wave tore up the flimsy metal. Men were tossed like ragdolls, some conscious enough to scream to their deaths as they were hurled off the roofs.

Finally, the last of the reinforcements fell. Only the wind was there to accompany them.

Moving down into the village, Lara let Kozak take the lead. He was the one with body armour after all. She was careful of where she tread, avoiding the fallen bodies. She didn't want to look at them, but she had to. It was different from watching war movies with Sam. This, this here was real. These were real people, men who had families back home. Instead of dying peacefully in a bed, they were slayed for no other reason than unexplained fanaticism.

She was looking for logic and rationality in a place that had none. But she remembered what Roth had said to her. Some men preferred to die on their feet, to meet their end while they were just retreating from the apex of their prime.

"We have a live one," the US soldier said.

"Oh god, please. Don't kill me," he begged.

Kozak hauled the man away from the mud and onto the veranda of a shack. He wore sturdy pants and shoes, a thick jacket and a beanie. His blue eyes were filled with fear as he saw the ghostly face mask and the emotionless visor.

He was shot in the leg, probably by her. From what Lara saw, Kozak aimed for the torso or the head. However, the wound was on his thighs, and it may have severed the femoral artery.

"You're a soldier, right?" he asked. "The one from the crash last night?"

The Operator nodded.

"More of you are coming, we're going home? Please tell me I can go home."

The man broke down into tears.

"I've been here for two years. I want to see my wife."

"What's your name?" Lara asked. "Trying to calm him down."

"Jeff, Jeff Miller," he answered.

She could see the blood seeping down his pants, his breathing was becoming hitched as the adrenaline began to wore off.

"You're bleeding out," Kozak said.

"There's a Doctor, he's in the shipping container close to the gate."

Kozak tilted his head.

"Please, I'm not trying to trick you. I want to go home!"

"Alright, this better be on the up and up," the soldier growled.

"I swear to god, I'm telling the truth."

The Operator slung the man over his shoulder and hauled him towards the shipping container. Lara followed closely behind, her finger resting on the trigger guard.

"Kill the outsiders!" a voice roared.

"NO WAIT!" Jeff pleaded.

But it all fell on deaf ears. Lara quickly raised her pistol, firing up at the men on the rooftops. Kozak kept ploughing on. He let the rifle drop and hang by the sling while he drew his sidearm. The pistol hissed and the rounds had a devastating effect on the attackers.

"Croft, I can't hold them off forever!" Kozak grunted, reloading his pistol.

Lara quickly sprinted up beside him and scooped the empty mag. Pocketing the clip, she continued firing at anything that moved. There was a Japanese submachine gun in the mud. She quickly picked it up, checked to see if it was still working, and returned to the bloody task at hand.

Kozak kept the fire up as he pushed through to find safety, while Lara kept the attackers pinned. She fired bursts at the rooftop snipers. One in every few rounds would score a lethal hit, easing up the pressure. But now there were melee men rushing her.

She dropped the SMG to bear and pulled the trigger.

"She's just one girl!" a cultist bellowed.

"That one girl is kicking our ass!" another retorted.

With the SMG running empty, she slung it onto her back and switched to her pistol. She forced herself to breathe and to aim.

"Don't let them escape into the city!"

Kozak dumped Jeff behind a crate and joined the fight. With his HK417A2 picking up the slack, the AP rounds just tore through anything with near unstoppable force.

"Man with a shield," Lara cried, gesturing to the cultist with a huge slab of metal and a knife.

"Take out the others first," he said.

She obeyed, aiming for the smaller prey.

Eventually the man with the shield was the last one left.

"Stop! Stop! He's a soldier!" Jeff pleaded.

The man still kept on advancing Kozak gestured for Lara to strafe to one side, and him, the other. When shields still continued to advanced, the Operator shifted his aim and fired. The AP round managed to pierce shield and possess enough force to dig its way into the man's stomach.

Kozak slowly moved up with his weapon trained.

"Jesus, you are real," he murmured.

"I'm not Jesus," Kozak said dryly.

"Is it over?"

Lara spun around and aimed her pistol at the newcomer. He was of oriental descent, and had a very neutral English accent. The armband was a clear indication that he was the medical officer.

"Yes, it's over."

An expression of remorse and relief spread over his face. Surveying the area, the Doctor quickly helped Jeff into the makeshift med bay, before going to help the man with the shield.

The Doctor ushered the two inside, and pointed to a camouflaged bag.

"I found that when I was searching for medical supplies," he said.

"That was hidden," Kozak said, Lara could hear then frown in his voice.

"Disturbed thicket, boot prints. You may have fooled the others," he whispered, low enough so his patients couldn't here. "Everything is still there. I haven't touched anything. You're more than welcome to take it."

"And why did you take it," Lara asked.

"Think of the damage these idiots would cause with a rifle like yours. Look, just take it, alright?"

Lara nodded, hefting the heavy bag onto her back. She looked at the two sedated men on makeshift beds.

"They're coming, right?" Jeff asked.

Kozak nodded.

"They won't make it," the other said dejectedly. "Every time a bird comes in or a ship gets too close, the storm destroys them."

"But they know we're here," Jeff argued. "One step closer."

"Look, if you guys tell them that I'm here, they'll kill you," Kozak warned.

"I guess so," Jeff murmured. "We just want to go home. But Father Mathias, he just showed us these… these spells. No way could it be a trick. A lot believed. I… not so much. We just wanna see our families again."

"Stay put, help will be here soon."

Walking out of the container, the Doctor followed them.

"Thanks, it's the first time I've seen hope for a long time," he said.

"What's going on here?" Kozak queried.

The Doctor shook his head and looked at the ground.

"I was flying into South East Asia to help with medical aid. My plane crashed here a few months back. A lot us survived the crash, and they divided us up among the camps. The women…"

He shut his eyes closed, tears forming as his voice grew hoarse.

"My sister… they… they took them away for some… for some fucking fire ritual. Sorry. It's still fresh."

"That's what they're going to do to Sam," Lara added.

"They'll be at the monastery. Look. There's something on this island which stops us from leaving. Last week, I saw these guys take a raft out. Sun was shining, condition was calm. Then outta nowhere, a wave throws them back to shore. Yesterday, two guys took a lifeboat out. Waves overwhelmed the engines and washed them back in. I even saw the two planes go down…"

"Why wasn't a beacon deployed?" Kozak asked. "How long have they been here?"

"Jesus," the Doctor breathed. "Some have been here for decades. I don't know why a beacon hasn't been deployed or anything. There could be a prohibited airspace here or something. I dunno. Maybe they didn't have a signal booster until recently."

"I climbed to a radio tower built during World War Two, and signalled for help," Lara said with a hint of guilt. "I saw a plane come in, but a thunderstorm came out of nowhere and…"

"Yeah, I saw. Look, focus on finding a way off. I got to go. Good luck, okay?"

"Thanks, Doc."

The medical officer returned to the container, closing the door slightly. It was time to move again. They need to get the gate to open though. There was a timber beam wrapped in cloth, keeping the door shut. Lara looked around for anything of use. She found a bow, and straps of cloth and rope.

She tied the lighter to the reinforced bow, and wrapped a bit of cloth at the tip of an arrow. Setting it alight, she let it loose, but the speed snuffed the flame. She tried again, this time, dipping it into a petrol tank… which were strewn all over the town.

The bow slung another arrow, this time, it ran true. The flames licked hungrily at the timber, but it would be awhile it the timber actually caught alight.

Kozak raised his rifle and fired a few shots, splintering the wood. The flames began to latch onto the dry fractured edge. Lara could hear it crackle and snap. A few more shots were fired to further weaken in, and then in combined sequence, the two reached for the lever and pulled the gate up.

The Operator then grabbed a thick length of stick and jammed it into the lever system to keep the gat locked open.

"Teamwork, love it," he muttered.

Moving under the archway, Lara took off the backpack. It wasn't as heavy or as large as Kozak's, and she wanted to open the equipment to disperse the load. There was a form fitting shirt which helped regulate body temperature, reinforced gloves, another HK417A2 rifle with a 16-inch barrel and SOPMOD kit, rations, buoyant body armour, knee and elbow pads. Unfortunately, there weren't any helmets.

Because of her smaller size, a few adjustments had to be made for the support webbing and harness. But within a small timeframe, Lara was fully kitted out in a set of light and flexible combat gear. She stretched her limbs and shifted her weight a bit. Surprisingly, the armour did move with her and did little to hamper her movements. A worthwhile trade off in her opinion.

"Know how to handle it?" Kozak asked.

"I think so," Lara nodded.

"Alright. Just in case, here's the release, safety, bolt lever and magnification flip," he said, pointing out the key switches.

With everything stowed away, Lara felt a bit more invulnerable as they left the gateway.

"Stop the old man! He's getting away!" a distinct voice barked.

"What's going on?" Lara wondered.

Looking at the distant ziplines, she saw a figure travel down its length with multiple people in pursuit. She raised the rifle and peered down the sights. The weapon was slightly heavier than she expected, but it was better than holding a rotting amalgamation of metal and wood.

Traversing down the pathway, Lara entered a larger area. The water flowed from a pipe connected to the river, but by the time it reached the houses, the water became spoiled. The stench of blood and sun battered corpses assaulted her senses.

Countless bodies dangled from dead trees, all of them hanging upside down. She wondered if they had been killed before they were strung up, or if it was a method of a slow and painful execution.

"How can they live like this?" she wondered aloud.

"Hell if I know," Kozak said. "Command, are you getting this?"

"Who are you talking to?" Lara asked.

He lifted a finger to his ear and tapped the headphones.

"Uplink."

That explained a lot, how he moved, seemingly able to anticipate where his foes were. He had an unfair advantage over the people here – war wasn't fair. She wondered how he could cope with killing so many.

He's a soldier, it's what they do… but that's small comfort. Maybe they dehumanised everyone they kill. I guess it would help… for a while.

She didn't like the idea of taking a life, and being forced to do so, somehow made it worse. It was like she were being robbed of her free will. There was always a choice and every choice needs to have a consequence to be a choice. Being on this island, she felt like everything was a stark decision. Kill or be killed. She hated it. How did Kozak deal with it? He virtually removed with brutal and methodical efficiency.

Wading through the muddied waters, Lara felt the armour support her weight, allowing her to float and glide through the brown liquid with relative ease.

"Get yer hands off me, ya bloody bastards!" an elderly male snapped.

"Oh my god, Grim!" Lara gasped.

"Hey!" a cultist yelled. "Need some help here!"

"A prisoner's escaped!"

Lara ran up onto a veranda. The platform overlooked a causeway, with a bridge stretching across the river. On the other side of the bank was a tower. It sounded that Grim was up there fending off the Solarii brothers. She saw men kicked down the ladder, falling to the deaths.

Grim was one tough bastard. No way in hell would they take him. She wasn't going to let them.

"Get up there!"

"Fuck you! Boil yer head!" the elderly man bellowed.

"Oh goddammit! Get up there!" the brotherhood pack leader roared.

Kozak moved into position on the left of the platform. He gently rested his weapon on the banister and aimed. Lara copied his movements, knowing that he had trained with the weapon extensively… or at least she hoped so.

"Weapons free," he said.

Aiming through the ACOG sights, Lara found it easy enough to zero in on centre mass. She squeezed the trigger and felt the rifle kick. The cultist on the receiving end fared much worse. The bullet punched through his arm, and then through his ribcage before exiting his body,

The man came to a crashing halt, redirecting his brethren's attention.

"Shit, it's the outsiders!"

"Keep it steady. Aim and fire," Kozak said, seemingly reminiscent of Roth.

The duo fired their weapons in quick succession. The small band of Solarii brothers staggered under the unforgiving assault, quickly crumbling into a heap.

Kozak was the first to move, he kept his rifle stable as he advanced with short strides. Foot to toe movements. It was meant to keep a modified profile facing towards the enemy, allowing the shooter's armour to take the full brunt of return fire, while keeping the aim steady.

Crossing the bridge, Lara imitated his movements. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. He was constantly checking his field of fire, making sure that there was no one to jump him.

They arrived at the base of the tower, in an opening in full view of the sun and the city.

"Lara up here!" the old man called.

"Grim, you escaped!"

"They couldn't hold me. Get up here; we need to get to the others."

She reached for the ladder, placing a hand on one of the rungs.

"Light her up!" a voice ordered.

She turned to the source, to hear the hiss of dynamite and the see it's yellow flame.

"Watch it, Lara, you've got company," Grim cried. "Lara, they, got fuckin' dynamite… take cover!"

She felt the heat wash over her as a hand threw her to the ground. The sheer force of the explosion was strong enough to dislodge the ladder, sending it careening into the ground.

Quickly she scurried behind the safety of a metal crate.

"I got six hostiles in bound," Kozak shouted. "Two demos, four ranged. Hold on – shit. Melee guys are roping in."

"Outsiders, give it up!" one of them beckoned.

"Not a chance you bastard," she growled.

"Sound the alarm!"

One of the brothers made a run for the manual alarm on the rooftop. He cranked the lever, winding it and producing an air raid siren.

Lara had to keep moving, they were tossing dynamite sticks haphazardly. It wasn't really a surprise though. She had already gained enough infamy by wiping out a number of patrols and sentries. Kozak would've most likely have done something similar.

Though he was wearing a US military battle dress uniform. It was devoid of any unit notation, except for a ghostly skull on his shoulder pads atop the American flag, and on his face mask.

Just like the town, the men charged with unseen savageness. Shooters stood from afar, trying to suppress them. But Kozak was always on the move. He never stopped for more than a second, and his gun was always firing.

Both sides exchanged fire, but the difference in weapon grades was painfully obvious. The World War II Era guns just spat everywhere. The rounds kicking up dirt and slamming against metal. They paled in comparison to the high-quality performance of German engineering and NATO rounds.

Like fish in a barrel.

Every time her rifle kicked, a round wound leave the barrel and find its mark. Likewise with Kozak. The sheer effectiveness of combined fire was devastating as men were shot of the zip line, or dropped before they couldn't even shoot back.

"I need some fire in the courtyard!" the group leader requested.

"Where are you?" Kozak muttered.

He wanted to slot the wanker calling the shots – that much was certain to Lara. She darted back and forth between the crates, firing her rifle and reloading. Dynamite sticks rained down around her. If they were close enough, she would toss them back across the bank.

The resulting explosion tore through the sheet metal and brought down a section of the houses. The rubble would certainly hamper pursuers.

"Croft, cover me. Slot the assholes that try to come across," Kozak shouted.

"Got it," Lara complied.

She shifted her aim, hovering her sights along the zip lines. Men rushed forward, throwing themselves into the air and hooking on with their makeshift axes.

Easy targets.

One bullet was all it took. The round punctured the man's chest, the air filled with a mist of his blood as he fell into the waters below. The man behind him wasn't so lucky however. Lara fired again, the pullet severing the tendons in his shoulder.

His grip slackened, dropping him through the air. She heard the sickening crack as his jaw slammed on the metal fence, and the tear of skin before he fell into the currents.

"It's no good, they just won't die!"

"Get down there and fucking KILL HER!"

More zip lines were shot across the river. More men poured onto the field. It was just insanity. She didn't want to do this, she didn't want to kill them, yet oddly enough – she was at peace with the idea. Was this the next stage of becoming a killer?

It probably was.

"You got more o' those bastards coming in!" Grim warned. "Watch it."

"Croft, keep the heat on them," Kozak said, pointing to the central house on the opposite embankment.

The Operator levelled his rifle and aimed for the posts on their side. He fired a short burst, mulching the wood and shredding the rope. Another wave of men attempted to make their way across. But the zip line could not hold their weight.

It was almost comical watching them flail as they fell into the water – or fell head first onto the concrete. It had to be demoralising for their brethren to watch.

More dynamite arced over the river, creating plumes of smoke and fire across the bank. Eventually the Solarii numbers thinned out and they were forced to retreat.

"Lara, you're still alive," Grim congratulated, standing at the edge of the tower's first tier.

"Just barely… where are the others?" she asked.

"Still locked up inside, but I know where they are," he answered. "Get up here, and we'll get them out together."

"We can't climb up there from here," Lara said, pointing to the fallen twisted ladder.

"Ahh damn it. Well, they got some kinda setup for haulin' cargo. Maybe you can use it to come around to the other side?" Grim suggested.

Lara's eyes trained along the network of sky platforms moving supplies and other resources up and down the mountains.

"Alright, we're on our way."

XXxxXX

A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed that chapter.

Leave a review and tell me what you think and what you would like to see in the future.

Thanks,

Andrithir