The StrahovMature

It felt awfully uneasy to be back in Prague. The memories I had of this place were truly awful.

Everything I had seen and done haunted me still. I forced my eyes shut, flinching a little. Completely composed, and with a comforting embrace from Kurtis, we ventured on.

"I know how you feel Lara; the events that unfolded here all those years ago haunt me still too."

The Strahov Fortress stood proudly in the middle distance, and my stomach flipped. Confronting the past, no matter how often one did, never became any easier. I became aware of my footsteps on the hard ground, and Kurtis' nervous breathing. The towers of the Fortress stared down menacingly. I felt increasingly nervous, and sweat beaded in all imaginable areas. I quickly withdrew my pistols; they offered a morsel of comfort. Kurtis braced himself, and the Chirugai loosened itself from its belt, and hovered just above his head, an orange trail oozing wherever it went.  We crept stealthily, panting at every corner, practically pulsating with nerves. Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed from one of the corridors, but then died away. Every step was like a mission. I held my pistols directly in front of me, my finger prepared to squeeze if the moment arose. The Strahov was vast, and its corridors winded continuously like a ball of confused wool.

I hugged the wall, peering gingerly round every bend. Tension seeped from the bricks. I glanced round one corner, and I stifled my urge to scream.

I was spotted, blast!

A firm squeeze came as a reflex, and after a short chest spasm and a small groan, the guard fell to the floor. We both began to run, there was no more chance of stealth now. A room packed with guards greeted us. I shot uncontrollably, bodies falling like dominoes. The Chirugai swept round at huge speed, slicing off multiple limbs and heads at any given moment. It was utter carnage.

After fleeing the scene, Kurtis and I clambered into the air vent system. The clatter of our footsteps caused a tinny sound to ring throughout the metal passages. We peered through every vent, trying to find the man who had called for help. Finally we found a room where all the hooded men were gathered. They were seated at a table, with Karel at its head.

He hadn't aged a day in eight years.

A pair of eyes I recognised met mine. The man, realising who I was, signaled at us to be quiet.

"Master Karel, would you excuse me for one moment?"

"Certainly, Mohammed."

The man made his way through the beautiful library where they were assembled. The ceiling was decorated with vast paintings and curled, ornate patterns, fashioned in marble. There was an uncountable collection of books, and pure oak furniture. My thoughts were interrupted by fresh footsteps.

Mohammed came to greet us.

"Thank you, Mrs Croft. You must be Mr Trent? I have heard much about you from the 


"Yes, I am. Now, how can we assist you?"

"By holding still."

He withdrew two needles from his jacket. I wanted to run, but he had me stuck by an uncontrollable force. Kurtis too, was frozen. He injected the fluid, and we slowly began to black out. Why had I let myself still trust in humans as a race? It only ever got me into trouble.

That lying, double-crossing bastard.

The End

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