Lara Croft: Mardi Gras
Lara Croft short fiction by Sarah
Scrisman@juno.com

Legalese and other stuff you probably won’t read:

This story is a work of fiction, using characters © EIDOS Interactive and CORE Design Ltd. The events and characters portrayed within have nothing to do with real life whatsoever, and if you find any resemblance to yourself or anyone you know, living or dead, then you are probably weird.
As always, I LOVE feedback, and I know this is a very short piece, but it is a story nonetheless, and I put an entire evening’s work into writing it (at work, no less). I really want to know what you think of it. You keep writing me, and I’ll keep writing stuff for you. Deal? Good. ;-)

*smooch*
Sarah


Lara made her way slowly through the crowd assembled on the streets, muttering to herself softly. Of all the days Raphael Tomkin had to pick to mess with this trip, why did it have to be this day in this city?
Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. In Baton Rouge, Louisiana. People everywhere in various states of dress. Or undress, Lara noted as she saw the woman getting her breasts painted with bright yellow and orange flames shooting away from the nipples. A fairly popular attraction, judging by the leering and gawking onlookers.
Seemed like all the women she saw had strings of beads around their necks, and everyone had one of those cheap Hawaiian frilly things adorning their necks. Lara normally considered herself to be a fairly casual dresser, but in this crowd, she was more overdressed than anything, irregardless of the fact that she had rolled her shorts up an extra inch, balled and knotted her shirt at her stomach, and tucked the sleeves of her shirt inside.
Were she not after something worth thousands of dollars to the British Royal Museum, she might have stopped to enjoy herself. The atmosphere reminded her of the one time she had snuck away in the middle of the night to attend the carnival that had come to her city. The only difference between then and now was the fact that she had been a very young, eager, excited, and not a little bit frightened child the last time. Now, however, she was angry, and here virtually against her will. Tomkin didn’t have to have stolen that ring. But now she was wandering through this throng, up to her eyebrows with impatience, looking for Raphael, that damned little Italian Mafia dropout with a taste for stealing rare artifacts and then selling them to-
“SHOW YOUR TITS!!!!!”
Lara’s head and eyebrows went up simultaneously to see a male of about twenty years standing in front of her, a large grin plastered to his face which was locked to her chest more precisely than the USS Enterprise’s phasers could ever have been. “I beg your pardon?”
The man threw his head back and cackled. “C’mon, I got a whole three strands of beads for ya! Show your tits! You new here or something? Trouble with English?”
Without blinking, Lara pulled one of her pistols from the belt holster and touched it lightly to the man’s nose. “Show your brains, if you have any left after all that you’ve been drinking and smoking, and get out of my face,” she said calmly. “I don’t have time for this.”
“H…h…here, you can h…h…have the beads,” the man told her, tossing the beads at her, and running off into the crowd.
Lara holstered her weapon and resumed her search. She looked up to the apartment balconies above her where Michael was busy scanning the crown, looking for any sign of their quarry.
Michael’s eyes went wide for a moment as he looked first to the crowd, then down to the picture he held in his hand, then back to the photo again. He caught Lara’s eye and pointed wildly to a section of people down the road.
Lara followed his pointing finger and broke into a trot, shoving the staggering masses out of her way as her eyes acquired her target. “Raphael!!”
Tomkin’s head snapped around, and his eyes closed themselves to slits. Then he saw her. “Shit.” He ran against the people as best he could, but a bottleneck at the cross-street slowed him down.
Lara stalked him through the masses, knowing full well he couldn’t navigate the crowds as quickly as she could. Vaulting over a body piercing display, much to the delight of several onlookers, she landed virtually on top of him.
But this time, when Raphael Tomkin turned around, he had something else. A hostage. “Hold it right there, my dear,” he ordered. “I’ve got a fine young lady here who really wants you to not come any closer.”
Lara froze. The woman whom Raphael had grabbed seemed to be unsure as to whether this was something serious or just another street play. Best that she not know, Lara told herself. “Alright, Raphael.” She held her hands above her head. “Just let the girl go. It’s me you want.” She took a step forward.
“You just stick to that spot like a statue, Lara,” Tomkin ordered, poking his knife into the hostage’s back.
“Hey!” the woman declared. “Your little toy is hurting me!”
“Good,” Tomkin said. “Just play along, and you will be fine.”
“Oh,” the woman giggled. “EEEEEEEEKKK!!!!!!” she yelled. “Help me, someone!”

From up above, Michael had managed to maneuver into a position above the action. Shit, she thinks this is all a damn movie…Well, in that case… “No, no, no!” he called out. “This is NOT where the victim screams for help!” He jumped from the balcony to the street, an exasperated look on his face.
What the bloody hell is he doing?? Lara’s brain screamed at her.
“Who the hell are you?” Tomkin glared.
Michael rolled his eyes and looked at Tomkin’s hostage. “Where, exactly, in the script did it say for you to scream for help?” he yelled at her.
“But, I’m not a part of-“
“Don’t give me that garbage. I didn’t hire you to scream like a little girl! You’re the heroine, for crying out loud! You don’t wail like some abandoned kitten! You take ACTION! You kick him in the crotch!!”
“Like this?” she asked, bringing her knee into Tomkin’s groin full-force.
Tomkin doubled over in pain, dropping the knife. His hands moved to cover his genitals. Water streamed from his eyes as he fell to the street, still balled up like a newborn baby.
Lara stepped over to Michael’s side, watching Raphael rolling on the ground, squeaking.
Michael walked up to the woman, handed her a massive string of beads, and a $50 bill. “A WONDERFUL job!” he beamed. “If you EVER need another part like that, just look me up, OK?”
“Wow!” the girl squealed. “I didn’t even know I was-“
“Oh, don’t be modest!” Michael interrupted her. “You were great!”
As if on a prompt, the watching members of the crown applauded lightly.
“Hey, man!” remarked a tall, surfer looking man nearby, pointing to Raphael. “Is that dude like, OK? I mean, she gave him one AGGRO kick to the jewelry box…”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Michael reassured the man. “He just really gets into his parts. Really enjoys playing them to the fullest.”
“Yeah,” the man commented, “I mean, that dude like, you know, really conveys the feeling of being slammed in the nards really hard, you know? You should, like, give him a raise or something.” He looked at Tomkin again. “Dude! Keep it up, man! You look in serious pain!”
It was all Michael could do to keep from exploding with laughter, but he held it in.
Lara walked over to Tomkin and extracted the ring from his finger. She bent down beside him and placed her lips near his ear. “Remember,” she whispered to him, “I stole this back first.” She got to her feet and walked back over to Michael. “Let’s go.”
Michael faced the audience as though speaking to a cameraman only he could see. “Cut! Alright, that’s a wrap, people!”
He and Lara watched as the crowd dispersed, then went their own way.

The night fell on Michael and Lara as they looked out the window of their hotel room at the crowds on the streets. Fireworks exploded in the star-lit skies, and also on the ground below. The celebrations seemed to be going on everywhere at once; a hundred radios playing a hundred different musical styles all at once.
“You know,” Lara stated, “I think I’m actually glad I decided to stay. This is certainly something not to be missed.”
Michael leaned across the bed and clicked the light on the night table off. The fireworks outside got a little brighter. “I’m certainly having fun,” he told her. Their lips met softly, as he put his arms around her, then they turned their attention back to the stars.
“Show your tits!!” someone outside hollered.
The sound of Lara removing her shirt was unmistakable to Michael in the dark, and before too long, the fireworks outside could no longer rival those in the hotel room…