First Date
By C. Mage



	Lara picked up the phone, reached for the keys to dial, then put the phone 
down again.  She stared at the phone in her bedroom for a few seconds, then picked 
up the receiver, typed in three numbers, then put the receiver back in the cradle.  
She picked it up once again, dialed an international number, let it ring once, then 
hung up as if the receiver was a snake that might have bit her.
	*Oh for Heaven's SAKE," she chided herself.  *Just dial up and ask.  You've 
faced gun-toting skateboarders, gigantic aliens and wild animals of every 
shape...SURELY you can dial a man's phone number and ask him a question!*
	"Not when the question is to ask the man for a date," she replied out loud.  
Lara Croft didn't know what was happening to her.  What was it about this man that 
made her feel like...well, like a prepubescent shoolgirl??  David Connors had been 
on her thoughts a lot ever since the spectacle in Belgrade two weeks before, and it 
bothered her and thrilled her at the same time.  Especially his last words, about her 
voice.  "My name is Lara," she said, listening to herself talk.  "My name...is Lara 
Croft..." she repeated, making her voice sound sultry, then shook her head.  She 
stood up straight and said casually, "Croft...Lara Croft."
	She hung her head and covered her face with her hands.  *I'm doomed,* she 
thought.
	Just then the phone rang.  Lara pounced on it, then stopped before picking it 
up.  "Wait a minute, he can't possibly be calling you.  You didn't give him your phone 
number."  She sighed in disappointment, then chided herself for the emotion, then 
shook herself mentally and picked up the phone.  "Hello?"
	"Nice to hear your voice again."
	"David?" she asked, barely hiding her excitement, then asked in a more 
serious tone, "How did you get my number?"
	"Well, I didn't know it was yours at first...but this number kept showing up on 
my Caller ID box and I was curious."
	*I'm beginning to regret that we made it through the Transistor Age...*  "Ah, 
well...ahem, well, David, I've been a bit busy, but I was wondering..."  Lara paused, 
unconsciously biting her lip.
	"Yessss?" 
	Lara could practically HEAR the grin on his face.  "Well, if you're not too busy, 
I was wondering if you'd like to go to see the opening of the Mayan exhibit in New 
York..."
	"Yeah, I wouldn't mind at all.  That might be a good place to..."
	"...with me..." Lara added, half-hoping he wouldn't notice.
	Luck was not with her that moment.  "Why, Miss Croft....are YOU asking ME 
out on a DATE?"
	"Don't be absurd!" Lara said, making a desperate bid to regain control.  "I was 
going to be in that area to see that exhibit and I needed..."  *Oooh, bad choice of 
words!* she thought.
	"Need?"
	"...WOULD LIKE to have someone who knows the area be my guide while I'm 
there."  She took a quick breath and added conversationally, "Don't try so hard to be 
so presumptuous, David."
	"Okay, okay, we'll play it your way."
	"So, are you free this weekend?"
	"I'm available, Lara, but never free.  Sure, I can drive you around.  My fee for 
being your native guide in this urban jungle will be..."
	"FEE!!"  Lara nearly hung up on him.
	"If you're going to keep up with this pretense, Lara, I have little choice but to 
humor you.  Admit it, Lara, you called to ask me out, didn't you?"
	"Don't be impertinent, David."  Lara was immediately defensive.
	"This'd be our first date."
	"No it won't."
	"Our first night out together."
	"No, it WON'T."  *The utter GALL of the man!*
	"There's a connection between us."
	"No, there isn't."
	"Then how do you explain how you feel right now, talking to me, hmmm?"
	"The cook must've gotten some bad fish in for lunch," Lara shot back.  "Are 
you going to help me or not?  I have other contacts in New York that could help me 
out, and not only will they not charge me for the time, they're MUCH more charming 
than you are right now."
	A pause from the United States end of the line, then, "Okay, okay, I give.  
What time is your plane coming in?"
	"Eight sharp your time.  British International, flight 405 from London.  DON'T 
keep me waiting."  Lara hung up and settled back in her chair.  She was relieved that 
she'd been able to take control of the conversation back.  *I'm not COMPLETELY 
befuddled.  Good.*


	On the other end of the line, David hung up and filed Lara's home number 
away for later reference.  "Two days," he murmured.  *Did I push her too hard?* he 
wondered idly.  "Oh, get OVER it, Dave!" he said out loud, standing up and pacing 
the room.  "She's probably got guys lined up out the door waiting to kiss her little Brit 
feet!  Get your reality check cashed, Dave."
	"Sir?"  David's secretary buzzed him from the other room.  "Are you alright?"
	"Just talking to myself, Luz!" he called back.  "Good Lord, Dave...get ahold of 
yourself," he muttered.
	*Yeah, RIGHT,* his mind answered back.
	"Luz, call someplace that rents tuxes.  NICE ones."
	"A formal job, Dave?"
	"Yeah."  He looked through the pile system on his desk and dug out his 
"organizer," marking down on Friday, 'pick up shrew at airport "8 SHARP" she sez' 
and tossing the book into a drawer.  "A formal job."


	Friday night found David Connors suffering through New York traffic and 
wondering if he'd had enough money in the bank to buy a helicopter.  *Yeah, right, 
after that fiasco in Europe, I can't even afford a helicopter RIDE anywhere.  Maybe I 
should take Doug's advice and install machineguns just under the headlights...*  He 
checked the clock on the dash and sighed.  "Great...well, what's another rash of 
moving violations?"
	With that, he gunned the engine and careened off the road to drive on the 
sidewalk, thanking the Powers-That-Be that nobody walked in New York anymore.  
He did manage to scare the bejeesus out of a couple of panhandlers, though.
	"HEY, YOU IDIOT!!  GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!!!" they yelled.
	"I CAN'T!  I'M NOT LICENSED TO DRIVE ON THE STREET ANYMORE!!" 
David yelled as he crossed to the intersection through a few parking meters and 
continued down a side street.  *Yes, traffic's much lighter here,* he observed, turning 
another corner and heading for the airport after looking back to see if a policeman 
had spotted his maneuver.  Satisfied that none had, he thought, *Cop didn't see it, I 
didn't do it,* and entered the airport parking lot and parked the car in a handicapped 
space.  He got out, walked around to the back and opened the trunk, taking out a 
fake handicapped plate with magnetic strips on the back and slapping it neatly over 
the real plate.  David stood up, looked around nonchalantly to see if a parking lot 
attendant had noticed, and went into the terminal.


	Lara got off the plane and walked up the corridor to the gate entrance.  She'd 
heard some stories about how psychotic the city could be, so she'd dressed in a 
plain dress designed to downplay her figure than flatter it, sensible shoes and no 
jewelry.  Her "purse" was little more than another backpack, one with a special 
option created by Natla Technologies.  It was a capacitor discharge device designed 
to electrify the backpack with more than 50,000 volts if it went more than twelve feet 
away from the transmitter in her pocket.  *I'm sure that Miss Natla would be pleased 
to know that one of her innovations was helping me to feel more secure,* she 
thought with a smile, *that is, should she ever get unearthed from the mountain that 
fell on her.  Now...where is David?*  She looked around, a little nervous...and Lara 
HATED feeling nervous about anything.
	A man with a sign that said "LARA CROFT" drew her attention and she saw 
David walking around, holding it aloft.  Lara was walking over when she caught a 
movement out of the corner of her eye and struck out with an arm just as a man tried 
to run off with her backpack.  The arm crossed his neckline and he flew back into 
one of the chairs surrounding the gate, gasping for breath.
	David walked over.  "Welcome to New York."  *Damn, she's beautiful,* he 
caught himself thinking and pushed that thought away...for now.
	"I feel so welcome.  Must be something in the air."  She smiled.  "I take it you 
have a limo waiting outside?"
	"I wish.  Come on, Miss Croft.  Let's get your luggage."


	"I was expecting your bike, to tell you the truth."  Lara looked at the beat-up 
Bonneville that occupied the parking space.  "And another thing...since when have 
you been a handicapped person?"
	David grinned.  "Ever since I was five.  I grew up with a deformed set of 
ethics."  He plucked the fake plate off and got into the driver's side.  Lara got into the 
shotgun seat, after dusting it off with a hand.  "Just brush those off the seat onto the 
floor."
	"Then where will I put mny feet??"  She looked down at the assorted 
collection of fast-food wrappers, assorted trash and a speeding ticket or two.  "This 
car is an utter pigsty!"
	"You're too kind.  I thought it was landfill material, Miss Croft."
	"And another thing..." She was interrupted by the car blasting out of the 
parking space and barrelling out of the parking garage.  "...WATCH THE 
PEDESTRIAN!!!"
	"She knew the risks she were taking when she starting walking on the street," 
he replied calmly and ignored the obscene gestures the woman was giving him as 
he passed.  "Besides, I didn't hit her, did I?"
	"I'll answer that just as soon as I wrench my fingernails from the dashboard," 
Lara gritted.  "As I was about to say before you attempted vehicular homicide, when 
are you going to stop calling me Miss Croft?"
	"Just as soon as you stop answering to it."
	"Are you going to be this exasperating on Friday night?"
	"Nah.  I'm usually too relaxed."  David smiled as he bypassed a stop sign 
without slowing.  "So, Miss Croft, how've you been?"
	Lara scowled at David, but relented.  "I've been busy...had a few tours to 
make on the college archaeology circuit, been doing some writing.  And yourself?"
	"Three divorce cases, one thwarted jewel heist, two drug busts, one missing 
child case and-a-partidge-in-a-pear-tree," he sing-songed.  "I've been pretty busy."  
	"I see," Lara said neutrally.  She was looking out the window, watching the 
world stream by.  "What do you think you'll do when you retire?"
	"I'll probably be doing nothing at all.  Not even breathing."
	Lara turned back to give him a look of mixed puzzlement and shock.  "Excuse 
me?"
	"This sin't exactly a Fortune 500 job, you know.  I'm lucky to eke out normal 
expenses every month.  I can't afford a pension plan.  My only hope is a really big 
score, and then maybe I'll retire for a little while...until I get bored outta my skull."  He 
shrugged.  "Then I'll go back to this.  Oh, don't look so shocked, Miss Croft.  As 
much as it irks you to consider it, you're just like me, in that respect.  Can you 
honestly imagine yourself just hanging around your home, admiring what you've 
done and reliving your past through your trophies, never going out and doing the 
things you did when you were younger?"
	Lara considered giving him a yes...until she realized that thought scared her 
to death.
	"That'll never happen to you...you'll still be spraying lead, going into tomb and 
crypts while jumping around as if gravity had gone out of style by the time you reach 
eighty."
	Lara smiled.  "That's what I like about you, David...you can say the sweetest 
things to a girl."  She looked out the window.  "There's my hotel."
	"THERE'S your hotel???"  David looked up at the rising spiral of steel and 
concrete.  
	"I always travel first class, David..."  She looked around her seat.  "Present 
situation excepted."
	"Oh, thank you, Miss Croft...you can say the sweetest things to a guy."  David 
stopped the car in front of the hotel.  Lara got out while the valet looked at David's 
vehicle as if it were a cockroach trying to climb up his leg.
	"See you tomorrow night, David."
	"Hey, Miss Croft, what say I show you the sights tomorrow?  You know, Coney 
Island, Statue of Liberty, stuff like that?"
	"Hmmmmm..."  Lara considered.  "On one condition."
	"Okay, what is it?"
	"Will you for Heaven's sake STOP calling me 'Miss Croft'?  I'm beginning to 
feel like your high school teacher."
	*I've got news for you, lady, Mr. Dolphus never looked like you!*  "Deal...Lara.  
I'll pick you up at eleven."  He faced forward and drove out of the parking lot.  Lara 
watched him go, feeling absurdly happy.
	"...bag, miss?"
	"Huh?" She turned to see the valet looking at her.
	"Take your bag, miss?"  The young man smiled and let his gaze linger over 
Lara's healthy form.   	Lara was feeling too good to let that bother her the way it 
usually did.  "Yes, you may, and step lively, young man...I've got a lot to do tonight.  
And if you're good, I'll give you a big tip once we get up to my room."  She walked 
ahead of the valet who had basically found his first good reason to be at work that 
night.  He followed her to the front desk, then up to her room like a loyal puppy.  
	After setting her bag on the bed, he walked up to her, stood only a pace away 
and asked slyly, "Now, then, baby...howzabout that tip?"
	"Certainly."
	The valet leaned in close...then found that he had leaned too far.  In fact, he 
kept moving forward even though he didn't want to.  He found himself being turkey-
walked to the door and pushed roughly out into the hall.  He kept going, even though 
the strong grip wasn't there anymore, and smacked into the opposite wall. 
	As he fell to the floor and rubbed his nose, Lara leaned out the door and said, 
"Here's your tip, dastard...never let your eyes linger too long over a woman's body.  
She MIGHT get offended and pound your pimply face in."  She closed the door with 
a SLAM and the valet found himself with a need to take a cold bath.  A long one.


	The next day, Lara went through her daily exercise routine. First, gymnastics 
practice and free weights in the health spa, then a couple of hours swimming laps in 
the pool, much to the delight of many of the male guests and staff.  After that, she 
got ready for David by selecting a sundress, sandals and a wide-brimmed hat.
	Thus armed for recreation, she went downstairs to meet David.
	The first shock of the day was seeing David drive up to the entrance in a 
clean version of his car!  Lara walked up to the car and looked through the spotless 
windows to see that the inside had not only been picked up, the vinyl had been 
cleaned and the floor vaccuumed!  She looked up at David as he came around to the 
passenger's side.  "Why, David...did you go buy a new car for the occassion?"
	"Ha ha.  I'll have you know that I clean my car like this on a regular basis."
	Lara didn't believe that for a second.  "Of course."  She stepped back as 
David came close to her, then opened the car door for her.  "You're actually opening 
the door for me?  Who are you and what have you done with the real David?" she 
smirked.
	"Oh, I am just wetting my shorts, you are so funny.  Will you get in the car 
already?"
	Still smiling, Lara sat in the shotgun seat and looked around.  "I must admit, 
it's qute a clean-up job.  You must have spent a couple of hours working on it."
	"Not really..."  *FOUR hours is more like it...!* David thought.
	"Well, David, I am impressed.  What have you got planned for today?"
	"Nothing.  We'll just make it up as we go along."
	"Sounds intriguing."
	David drove away, passing a disgruntled valet who watched them leave with 
venom in his gaze.


	Lara and David spent the next six hours discovering things about each other.  
	Their first stop took them to an art exhibition, which Lara enjoyed more than 
David did.  While Lara was appreciating the inspiration behind some of the modern 
sculptures, David was in the gift shop looking for something nice to give to Lara 
("just a souvenir, that's all" he kept telling himself).  After that, David looked around 
for a place they'd be able to enjoy together.
	Lara was the one that found it.  "Mind if we go in there to browse?" she asked, 
pointing to a store.  David looked up at the sign over the door.
	MIKE'S HANDGUNS.
	"Sure," he said, and they walked in.  From that moment on, everything just 
clicked for them.  After a long time of driving around, wondering how to break the ice, 
Lara and David found themselves talking like old friends about a favorite subject, 
even getting into a heated discussion about the pros and cons of grain ratio versus 
caliber size when it came to stopping power.
	"Look, I'm telling you, the Colt Python has a lot more stopping power than the 
Uzi, even on full auto."
	"I know quite a few wolves and alligators who would disagree with you."
	"But the Makarov..."
	"Hah!  I know...!"
	"...Desert Eagle .50...!"
	"...Linebaugh..."
	"...Casull .454...!"
	"...charging lions...!"
	"...sharks...!"
	"...dynamite...!"
	"ENOUGH!"
	Lara and David looked towards the proprietor, a balding man who was clearly 
losing his mind.  "Yes?" they both asked.
	"Would you mind keeping it down??  You starting to scare my customers!"
	"Oh, sorry."  David blushed a little, then noticed the clock behind the 
proprietor.  "Lara, you're not going to believe this, but we've got to get going already, 
if we're going to make it to the museum opening."
	Lara noted the time on her wristwatch.  "Blimey!  You're right!  Looks like your 
driving will come in handy after all."  She looked to the manager.  "Thank you for 
your time, sir," she said and ran out the door, David close behind.
	The manager noticed his empty store and hoped that business would pick up 
again soon.  "Who do those two think they are, anyhow...Mr. and Mrs. Indiana 
Jones??"


	After a breakneck chase and a hastily explained reason for the speed to a 
polite but determined police officer, David and Lara arrived at her hotel.  "Well, 
another one bites the dust," David said, tossing the wadded-up ticket into his back 
seat.
	"Don't you pay those?"
	"Nope.  I just go in at night and remove them from the computer.  There's so 
much paperwork there that nobody'll look for it and they'll just forget about it  It would 
take far too much effort for them to look for it...they've got better things to do.  Hey, it 
keeps me on the streets."
	"If that's an attempt to redeem your actions, try again.  It condemns more than 
it exonerates."  Lara grinned and left the car.  "I'll see you in two hours."
	"Okay...but I've got another surprise for you."  Before Lara could ask what the 
surprise could be, David drove off.  She turned and walked back into the hotel.  The 
valet considered the idea of paying her back for his embarassment, but changed his 
mind when he saw the name on the shopping bag Lara was carrying into the hotel.  
As the valet rightly reasoned, *Never mess with a woman carrying guns.*


	That evening, a stretch limo drove up to Lara's hotel.  The door opened and 
David stepped out, wearing an expensively-rented tux, complete with double-
breasted jacket, spotless shoes and black cufflinks.  He had even styled his hair and 
shaved, making him barely recognizable.
	Lara watched him from the balcony, impressed.  He had gone from a 
generally appealing man with rough edges to someone who looked as if he could 
out-Bond 007 himself.  He still had that walk to him, Lara noted with amusement, the 
walk of a cowboy.  *Now it's time for MY surprise,* she thought, taking a deep 
breath.  As she walked to the elevator, Lara did her best to quiet the nervousness in 
the pit of her stomach.  *I never understood what people meant by "butterflies in the 
stomach."  Now I wish I still didn't understand.*


	David paced the concrete by the limo while the chauffer read a newspaper 
inside.  *Damn, damn, damn....will you fercrissakes CALM DOWN?!  Geez, you're 
like a virgin going to a whorehouse...no, wrong analogy to use.  WRONG analogy.  
Lesse...*
	"David?"
	He looked up and his mouth dropped open.  His jaw hit the concrete, broke 
through and began drilling for oil.  The chauffer looked up, saw Lara, and dropped 
his newspaper.
	Lara was dressed in a stark black evening gown, slit up the left side to the 
knee and plain except for a silver sprinkle of stars weaving their way up her side and 
front.  Her hair was loose and flowing down her back like an auburn waterfall, the 
constant braiding turning her normally straight hair into a smooth wavy cascade 
down her back.  She had touched up her face with some make-up, but only enough 
to highlight her features.  She also wore an intricate necklace, a ladies' watch, two 
small triangular earrings and, to add to the allure, four-inch heels.  A delicate purse 
completed the ensemble.
	Lara smiled edgily and twirled slowly.  "What do you think?"
	*I'm in love...* David thought, then said sincerely, "You look....beautiful."  The 
way he said it made delicious goosebumps cover Lara's arms and legs.
	"Thank you," Lara said, taking in a close look at David.  "You look utterly 
spectacular.  Truly transformed.  If I'd known you looked this way in a tuxedo, I 
would've invited you to a fancy occassion much earlier."
	David blushed, then composed himself.  He swept an arm towards the 
limousine.  "Your chariot awaits without, mademoiselle."
	Lara cocked an eyebrow.  "Without what?"
	"Without us if we don't hustle.  We're already late enough as it is!"  David 
opened the car door and helped Lara in, then got in himself and told the driver, "The 
museum, James."
	"You know his name?" Lara asked.
	"All chauffers are named James...it's like a law of nature."
	The chauffer, in a supreme display of professinalism, turned his head away 
from Lara Croft and drove the limo away from the hotel.  The black car parked in the 
lot across the street turned its lights on and followed.  Inside, the driver picked up a 
radio.  "She's on her way...and she's got somebody with her."
	"How nice.  A date."  The woman's voice dripped acid and the driver was 
suddenly glad that he was miles away.  "This gets even better.  Call me as soon as 
they reach the museum."


	Lara and David got out of the limo and walked up the marble steps to the 
Metropolitan Museum of History.  Banners over the entrance proclaimed, "THE 
MYSTERY OF THE MAYANS," in red and black, with the face of a Mayan statue 
adorning the standards.  David and Lara looked about them, noting all the 
cameracrews of the TV stations.  "This must be a big event," said David.
	"The exhibits are going to be showing off some of the items I picked up the 
last time I was in Central America.  Lovely, fascinating stuff."
	"Hence, your own interest."
	"I just want to see that the exhibits are displayed in the right context, make 
sure that their information is correct."  
	They walked past an announcer with blonde hair who was saying, "All have 
gathered tonight to see the spectacle, including our own Mayor and Police 
Commissioner.  The event promises to be one to remember."
	Lara paused.  The voice sounded vaguely familiar.  She was about to mention 
it to David, then decided against it.  *After all, this is my night to enjoy myself.  No 
tombs, no city-sized crypts with wild animals and mummified creatures stalking me.  
Just me and David.*  She smiled and snuggled a little closer to him.  *Just me and 
David.  I like the sound of that.*


	Inside, Lara and David made the rounds.  Actually, Lara made the rounds, 
David just stuck by her.  She observed some of the speculations made on many of 
the items in the exhibits and shook her head.  *Amazing how wrong some people 
could be about archaeology.  Let them dodge some booby-traps and lava pits, ask 
them then whether or not these tribes were "primitive."*
	"Lara Croft?"
	She turned as an older man stepped up to her, smiling.  "Yes?"
	"Sir Winston Smythe, Oxford.  I've been reading your work on these exhibits.  
Remarkable work!"  He shook her hand.  "You're a credit to your profession."  He 
turned to David.  "And who is this sharply-dressed gentleman?"
	"David Connors."
	"Connors...Connors...I don't recall that name from the Archaeological 
Registries.  What sort of work do you do?  Early Persian?  Egyptian dynasties?"
	"Actually, I work in areas much more recent."  
	"Ahh, I see, a historian...of what century?"
	"This one."
	"Sir Winston, I hate to dash, but I've got to speak to a couple of the curators, 
so, if you'll pardon us...!"  Lara steered David away.  "A 'recent events historian'?"
	"Sure.  As recent as yesterday.  I go through a lot of people's garbage to find 
out info I need to know about them.  You'd be surprised what you can find out about 
a person's history by their leavings, even if it isn't from some ancient culture."
	Lara chuckled.  "Too true, too true.  If you'll pardon me, David, I'm off to the 
loo.  I'll be right back...don't go away."
	"Alright, I'll just hang around and try to look intellectual."
	"Don't sprain anything."  She squeezed his hand and moved towards the 
restrooms.  David watched her go until he lost sight of her among the throng of 
guests, then decided to see what the press were saying.  As he was walking up, his 
cellular phone rang and he picked it up quickly.
	"What is it?" he whispered.
	"Dave, this is Mike, over at Channel Twelve."
	"Mike, this is not the time.  I'm off duty."
	"Are you at the Museum?"
	"Yeah, remember, I told you, I was taking tonight off to get here, why?"
	"We just got a call from one of our reporters.  He told me that he and his crew 
were waylaid on the way there and some people stole his van and equipment.  They 
took them to a warehouse and tied them up there."
	David looked up.  "Mike, this is not funny.  I can see your guys in the media 
pit, with all the others."
	"Dave, something screwy is going on."
	"Tell me about it.  Our guy says that all the other reporters assigned to the 
Musuem tonight WERE ALL THERE AT THE WAREHOUSE."
	David stopped, then looked up at the reporters.  "They're not here??"
	"No!"
	"You're right, something IS..."
	Machinegun fire startled David out of his conversation and he looked up to 
see that  the cameracrews and reporters weren't carrying microphones and cameras 
anymore.  Every single one now carried a submachinegun!
	When the firing stopped and all the security guards were subdued, the blonde 
reporter called out, "NOBODY TRIED ANYTHING FUNNY AND YOU WILL ALL GET 
TO LIVE.  IF ONE PERSON TRIES TO BE A HERO, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU 
WILL DIE!!"


	Lara Croft had just finished washing her hands when she heard the gunfire 
outside.  She was alone in the restroom, so nobody saw her pull up the hem of her 
gown and reach between her legs to pull out a slim machine pistol and a long clip.  
She slapped the clip into the butt of the weapon and pulled the hammer back, 
wondering, *What the blazes is going on???*
	She opened up the door a crack and saw the blonde on the main podium take 
the microphone.  When she gave her statement to the prisoners, a chord was struck 
in Lara's mind.  *NO...it can't be!!  Not here, not now!!"


	David stuck the phone in his inside pocket as the blonde barked into a radio, 
"Seal the doors.  No one goes in or out."  Then she looked down at the audience.  
"Now then...first off, which one of you is David Connors?"
	David didn't move a muscle.
	"David Connors, if you do not identify yourself at the count of five," she 
commanded, reaching down into a case and pulling out a strange, wide-barrelled 
weapon.  The woman pointed it at a statue and fired, sending a fireball a foot in 
diameter at the statue's head, vaporizing it with a loud BOOM!!!  She looked down at 
the terrified crowd once again, aiming the weapon at them, continuing, "Ten people 
will die.  One...two...three..."
	"Hold it."
	The blonde looked down as David moved through the crowd towards the 
podium.  The "reporters" kept their guns trained on him as he climbed up and 
stopped at the edge.  
	"I'm David Connors.  Who the hell are you?"
	The crowd held its breath at David's words, fearing retribution.  The woman 
looked at him, then laughed, a bold, strong laugh tinged with insanity.  "I'll tell you 
who I am."  She reached up and pulled at her chin.  Part of her face came away, 
then the whole thing stretched and ripped as the blonde pulled the attractive facade 
away to reveal a scarred face beneath.  It was a beautiful face once, but it was 
scarred and pitted now...and that face came close to David's own.  He didn't flinch as 
she hissed, red bat wings unfurling from under her clothes, "MY NAME....IS NATLA.  
JACQEULINE NATLA."


	Lara moved back into the restroom, a cold hand around her heart.  *I don't 
believe it!  A blasted PYRAMID fell on her!*
	That cold hand squeezed tighter as she heard Natla yell, "IF YOU DON'T 
COME ON OUT IN THE NEXT SIXTY SECONDS, YOUR BOY DAVID IS GOING TO 
KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO FEEL BURNED ALIVE!!!"


TO BE CONTINUED...