UnBooks:The Zero Agency on Retirement

Ivan's new Vehicle for retirement...

Lara thumbed through the pile of mail on the kitchen counter, shuffling bills, advertisements, and postcards, until her hand stopped on a thick, official-looking envelope, stamped with the unmistakable seal of MI6.

She ripped it open, her eyes quickly scanning the contents. With an expression shifting from disbelief to amusement, she looked up at Ivan, who was busy pouring himself coffee.

“We’ve been suspended,” she announced, raising an eyebrow.

Ivan nearly dropped his coffee. “Suspended? Just like that?” He leaned in, reading over her shoulder.

Before they could make sense of it, the phone rang. Lara picked it up, putting it on speaker. Adam’s voice crackled through. “Lara, Ivan—I just got the strangest letter. I’m suspended! It’s… pretty official.”

Before she could answer, Ivan’s phone buzzed with Görgy’s number. Ivan gave Lara a bewildered look, then picked up, putting him on speaker as well.

“Suspended? You’ve got to be joking,” Görgy’s voice grumbled. “What the hell is MI6 playing at?”

Just then, they heard the doorbell ring. Standing on the porch, looking equally bewildered, were Burkov and Priscilla. Burkov held up a similar official envelope. “Let me guess—you got one too?” he said in his heavy Russian accent. “It’s not April Fools’, so I’m not laughing.”

Priscilla looked visibly shaken. “This is insane. What did we even do? Are we... fired?”

The whole team exchanged glances, processing the bizarre situation. They gathered in the living room, each with their envelopes, and Ivan held up his coffee cup in a half-hearted toast.

“Well, comrades, it seems The Zero Agency has officially been put out to pasture—for now, anyway,” he said, his tone layered with irony. “Here’s to early retirement. But somehow, I don’t think it’ll be that simple.”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Nothing ever is.”

Chapter 1

The morning began like any other. Ivan, Lara, Priscilla, Burkov, Adam, and Görgy each woke up in their usual way, glancing at the clock and setting out for another day of work at the Zero Agency. After years of missions, investigations, and battles, the Agency had become home to them all, and it was hard to picture anything different.

But as they pulled up to the office, something felt… off.

Adam, the first to enter, stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. The usually quiet office was alive with new faces—young agents milling around, carrying sleek laptops, folders, and cases marked with the Agency insignia. They wore immaculate suits, and their voices were full of easy confidence, utterly oblivious to the stunned expressions on their predecessors’ faces.

Lara was next to enter, her usual unshakable poise faltering as she took in the scene. “Who… who are these people?” she muttered, incredulous.

Burkov, the stalwart leader and retired headmaster, followed with a scowl. “Didn’t the Agency just suspend us? What’s all this?”

“Out with the old, in with the new, I suppose,” Görgy grumbled, crossing his arms. “Unbelievable. After all we’ve done for them…”

As if summoned, an MI6 agent suddenly appeared, moving through the crowd with an air of authority. His tailored suit and easy smile betrayed a practiced charm that did little to reassure the team. He approached, exuding a mix of charisma and condescension that set everyone’s nerves on edge.

“Ah, Zero Agency. Glad you could make it,” the agent said, his tone sickeningly pleasant. “You’ve all done incredible work, truly. And that’s precisely why it’s time for you to… step aside and enjoy your well-deserved retirement.”

Ivan’s jaw clenched. “Retirement?” he repeated, disbelief lacing his words. “We didn’t request retirement. And we’re certainly not finished.”

The agent continued, unperturbed by the outrage beginning to simmer among the group. “Consider this a graceful exit from the field. You’ve served well and, let’s be honest, for a long time. Few agents can say they’ve had such… illustrious careers.”

Lara raised an eyebrow, fixing him with a withering stare. “And how exactly do you plan to compensate us for these ‘illustrious careers’ we’re supposed to leave behind?”

The agent’s smile widened, clearly anticipating the question. “You’ll be receiving a pension of four hundred pounds per month. A fair and generous amount, considering the circumstances.”

At this, the group’s shock transformed into a barely contained rage. Four hundred pounds a month? After risking their lives countless times? After giving everything to the Agency? It felt more like an insult than a reward.

Burkov shook his head, looking visibly affronted. “Is that all our years of service are worth to you? A few hundred pounds?”

The agent shrugged, oblivious to—or perhaps reveling in—their growing anger. “We believe it’s fair. And now, if you would, please gather your personal items. Your successors will need the space.”

The team turned toward the office, each lost in their own thoughts as they gathered their belongings. Old photos, well-worn equipment, a few mementos from past missions… As they packed up, memories flooded back—the good times, the close calls, the friendships forged under fire. This office had been their world, and now it was slipping through their fingers, leaving them with a mere pittance and an unceremonious farewell.

Once outside, they looked back at the building, the familiar walls now alien with strangers occupying their former lives.

As the shock of the moment wore off, a heavy silence settled over them, the kind of silence that only comes when a chapter has ended without any real sense of closure. Each of them realized, slowly and painfully, that they were, in fact, being forced to retire, no matter how much their hearts were still in the game.

And so they each returned to their previous lives, struggling to reintegrate into a world that had long ago become foreign to them.

A Few Months Later

Lara found herself back at Cambridge, the halls echoing with the eager chatter of young students. She tried to immerse herself in teaching, diving into lectures on archaeology and history. But it wasn’t the same. After years of hunting down artifacts and outsmarting enemies, the classroom felt stifling. Her students respected her, but none could imagine the life she’d led, the dangers she’d faced, the secrets she kept. She was respected, but unseen.

Burkov, too, returned to his old role as headmaster, watching over the same school where he’d once lectured young minds about responsibility, ethics, and history. He was proud of his career, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had lost its spark. Teaching was fulfilling, yes, but the thrill, the drive, the sense of purpose that had fueled him through years of missions was gone.

Meanwhile, Ivan and Adam ended up teaching at the same school. They formed a peculiar but respected duo, with Ivan’s dry wit and Adam’s sardonic humor making them both popular and feared. Ivan’s former students could hardly believe he was back, and whispers circulated that he was some sort of ex-spy—though no one dared ask him directly.

Priscilla, Ivan’s granddaughter, returned to Vogue as an editor, the fashion world familiar yet almost trivial compared to the high-stakes life she’d grown accustomed to. She found herself missing the team, the sense of camaraderie, the feeling that her work actually mattered.

And then there was Görgy, reluctantly back to his pre-Agency life in a sterile office, feeling as if he’d been thrust into a dull, colorless world after years of vibrant, dangerous adventure. The bureaucracy and monotony made him itch, and he found himself constantly fantasizing about the past.

Each of them tried to settle in, but none found it easy. They met up occasionally, sharing drinks and memories, but always with a sense of longing, a feeling that something was missing.

One evening, after another frustrating day of routine, they gathered at a pub, reminiscing about the “good old days” of the Agency. The familiar thrill of planning, executing, and barely surviving missions hung in the air as they laughed and exchanged stories.

“I swear,” Ivan said, swirling his drink, “I’d trade all the lecture halls and classrooms in the world to be back in the field.”

Lara nodded in agreement. “Four hundred pounds a month… hardly seems worth it, does it?”

Priscilla smirked, taking a sip of her wine. “Maybe we should start our own agency. An ‘unretired’ agency.”

They all laughed, but an idea was beginning to form, a subtle spark that flickered to life amidst their laughter and complaints. Because deep down, none of them were ready to let go of the lives they’d lived, the dangers they’d faced, the bond they shared.

Perhaps, just perhaps, their retirement wasn’t as final as MI6 had intended. And as they raised their glasses, the same thought crossed all their minds: the world still needed them, and they still had a few tricks up their sleeves.

Chapter 2

Months rolled by, and the old crew’s lives settled into a restless lull. Lara and Ivan, eager for something different, had moved back to Croft Manor—an offer extended by Elizabeth, Lara’s younger counterpart by a few years, who saw their situation and understood. Even the grand estate, however, couldn’t shake the melancholy that had settled over Ivan like a permanent shadow.

Meanwhile, Burkov, Adam, and Ivan's teaching adventures had taken an unfortunate turn. The school, in a bewildering turn of events, had suspended all three of them. Burkov and Adam were frustrated, but Ivan took it the hardest. Teaching had been his attempt to maintain some sense of purpose, however modest, and the sudden dismissal felt like yet another blow.

Days blurred into each other, and Ivan’s spirits sank even further. Despite the luxurious surroundings of Croft Manor, he couldn’t shake the feeling of purposelessness. Elizabeth and Lara noticed it too, watching with increasing worry as he brooded in silence or took long, contemplative walks across the estate grounds. They attempted small gestures to lift his spirits: his favorite meals, impromptu family movie nights, and afternoon tea in the manor’s sunlit atrium. But each effort seemed to frustrate him further, stirring the bitter taste of pity.

One crisp morning, after Lara gently placed a freshly polished cup of coffee in front of him, Ivan finally snapped. “Lara, can I at least wash the car? I need to do something.”

Lara shook her head, her tone warm but firm. “It’s clean, Ivan. I already took care of it.”

A glint of mischief and irritation flickered in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry,” he replied, “I’ll make it dirty again.”

Without waiting for a response, Ivan stormed out of the manor, heading for his beloved Superb parked under the stately oak. Determined to break free of this domestic straitjacket, he seized a can of paint from the estate's shed and, without a moment’s hesitation, poured the bright color across the hood, spilling it in dramatic rivulets across the pristine surface.

Lara, seeing the commotion from the window, sprinted out of the house, her expression panicked. She hadn’t seen such reckless abandon since their days of dodging traps and villains. “Ivan!” she shouted, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?”

The sight of her shock only spurred him on. Fueled by a strange thrill, Ivan poured paint on himself, turning his clothes into a colorful mess. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he turned toward her, barrel in hand. “Oh, don’t worry, Lara! I saved a bit for you too.”

Realizing his intentions, Lara backed away, laughing nervously but also edging toward alarm. He took a step forward, raising the paint barrel above his head like a triumphant gladiator ready to charge.

“Get back here, Croft!” he called, feigning menace, but the playful intent was clear.

Lara turned on her heels and took off across the estate grounds, the old hunter's gleam lighting up in her eyes as she dashed across manicured lawns and ducked behind hedges. Ivan followed, laughing louder with each splash of paint, and quickly gaining ground.

The commotion caught Elizabeth’s attention from her perch on the manor balcony. She watched the scene unfold, eyebrows raised in disbelief as her former mentor and friend charged around the estate grounds in a paint-soaked rampage. With a quick glance to confirm Lara wasn’t in any real danger, Elizabeth grabbed her old hunting rifle—a non-lethal airsoft gun but enough to make a point—and fired two well-placed shots right into Ivan’s backside.

Ivan stumbled, the sting of the pellets snapping him out of his fervor. He winced, staggering backward and dropping the paint can. Lara stopped running, catching her breath as she turned to see Ivan, now covered in paint with two neat red marks on his trousers, looking utterly ridiculous.

Elizabeth approached, her expression softened by a rueful smile. “Alright, Ivan. You've had your fun. Time to clean up.”

That afternoon, Ivan sat on the manor’s grand leather armchair, recovering from his wild outburst, while Lara fussed over him. With a sheepish grin, he accepted her care, and she couldn’t help but smile at the endearing sight. Elizabeth offered him a quiet apology, along with a knowing glance, as if to say that everyone understood the pent-up frustration of retirement all too well.

And for the first time in months, the manor was filled with laughter—because despite everything, this misfit family could still find joy in the most unexpected places.

Chapter 3

Priscilla, growing weary of life back in her usual magazine editorship, decided it was time to check in on her grandfather Ivan and Lara. She hadn’t heard from them in weeks, and her letters had gone unanswered. So she took matters into her own hands and headed to their flat in Hammersmith.

When she arrived, however, a surprise awaited her. Instead of her grandparents’ cozy flat, she found a new family living there, unpacking boxes and settling in. When she asked around, she learned that Ivan and Lara had recently moved, and, after a few more inquiries, Priscilla was pointed in the direction of Croft Manor. Although Priscilla had no specific address, she set off determinedly toward the sprawling grounds she’d only heard of in Lara’s wild stories.

As Priscilla approached the entrance of Croft Manor, she encountered an unexpected challenge: locked gates, tall hedges, and an unnerving silence. Determined to see her grandparents, she decided to find a way in, unaware of the security measures awaiting her.

Inside Croft Manor, Ivan was enjoying a rare moment of peace. That tranquility shattered, however, when a loud buzzing echoed through the halls. Startled, Ivan looked around as a muffled alarm began to sound from the hidden depths of the estate. Lara and Elizabeth, sensing his confusion, quickly ushered him down to the cellar, where they stood before an imposing control panel that seemed to stretch across the entire wall.

“What in the world is this?” Ivan asked, half in awe, half in confusion.

“Security system,” Lara replied with a mischievous smile. “It’s… robust. Elizabeth and I put it in. With the things we keep in here, we figured it was best to be, well, prepared.”

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s got everything—electrified door circuits, tear gas, and a few… defensive surprises,” she said, glancing at Lara, who smirked.

As Ivan’s eyes traveled over the various buttons, switches, and screens, he took in the blinking lights and the soft hum of technology around him. He couldn’t help but ask, “How much did all this cost?”

Lara chuckled, waving his question off. “Don’t worry about that, darling. I’m a countess; let me spend it.”

Just then, one of the monitors showed a figure sneaking across the lawn toward the manor. The person was dressed in casual clothes, moving cautiously, and clearly unaware of the chaos that awaited. Ivan couldn’t recognize the figure from the camera feed, and without hesitation, he moved toward the control panel.

“Let’s give this intruder a warm welcome, shall we?” he said, pressing a button that sent a small electric shock through the front gate as the figure attempted to open it.

Outside, Priscilla yelped as a mild but jarring zap coursed through her hand. Shaking her fingers, she grumbled but pressed on, determined to reach the manor. Little did she know, Ivan was just warming up.

As she reached the outer doors, another button unleashed a puff of tear gas. Priscilla coughed, her eyes watering as she stumbled back, struggling to regain her bearings. Inside, Ivan watched, a slight smirk on his face, unaware of who his “intruder” really was.

“Alright, now for the next one…” he muttered, as he pressed yet another button, setting off a controlled explosion nearby. It was loud enough to startle her into a sprint toward the entrance, but small enough to keep the landscaping intact.

Finally reaching the manor’s main doors, Priscilla managed to slip inside, exhausted and thoroughly rattled. However, as she stepped into the foyer, the floor beneath her suddenly gave way with a loud click, and she plummeted through a trap door into a hidden chamber below. Bruised, bewildered, and muttering curses under her breath, she sat up, glancing around the dimly lit room in disbelief.

Back in the control room, Ivan, seeing the "intruder" had breached the manor's interior, sprang into action. He grabbed an L1A1 rifle from the nearby rack, prepared to defend Croft Manor against the "threat."

Striding into the foyer, he peered down through the trap door only to find, to his astonishment, his granddaughter, Priscilla, bruised and glaring up at him from the hidden room below.

“Priscilla?!” he exclaimed, lowering the rifle, his face a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

Lara and Elizabeth arrived moments later, both shocked and horrified as they looked from Ivan to the disheveled Priscilla below.

“Oh dear…” Lara murmured, her cheeks flushing with color as she realized the mistake.

Priscilla, still trying to catch her breath, gave a withering look. “Really, Grandpa? You couldn’t just ask who it was?”

Ivan chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, maybe next time, just give us a call first, hmm?”

Priscilla rolled her eyes, accepting his hand as he helped her up from the trap. Despite the rough welcome, she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Chapter 4

After the commotion settled, the three made their way to Croft Manor’s drawing room. The grand space, decorated with tapestries, portraits, and centuries-old furniture, provided an ideal backdrop for a long conversation, something Priscilla was looking forward to. Settling into the leather armchairs with a warm cup of tea, Priscilla finally had a chance to observe Elizabeth more closely, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

Elizabeth looked almost identical to Lara—a resemblance that went beyond mere family traits. It was as though she was seeing Lara herself from a decade or so earlier, before the scars, the calloused fingers, and the hardened gaze. Unable to contain herself any longer, Priscilla turned to Elizabeth with a half-smile.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking,” she began, “why do you look almost exactly like Lara? It’s like looking at a younger version of her.”

Elizabeth laughed softly, glancing at Lara with a knowing look. Lara raised her eyebrows, amused, but gave a little nod to her younger double, signaling her approval.

“Well,” Elizabeth replied with a light chuckle, “let’s just say it’s complicated. I’m not exactly from around here in the usual sense. I’m… well, think of me as a bit of a peculiar Croft relative.”

“Complicated is right,” Lara added, smirking. “It took us ages to even begin to figure it out.”

Priscilla, now even more intrigued, tilted her head. “A peculiar Croft relative, huh? That’s… well, oddly fitting around here. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Elizabeth shrugged, then leaned forward, changing the subject with a curious glint in her eye. “But what about you? I’d love to know how you met Ivan. He’s told us a few stories here and there, but it’s always nice to get the real details. How did it happen?”

Priscilla laughed, shaking her head as memories flooded back. “Ah, Cornwall, of all places. I met Ivan there a few years back, but not under the best circumstances. He had just caught wind of a ‘suspicious, unidentified individual’ hanging around the cliffs,” she said, putting air quotes around “suspicious.” “I think he thought I was some sort of… well, honestly, I think he thought I was an alien.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping her lips. “He thought you were an alien? Really?”

“Oh yes,” Priscilla continued, grinning at the memory. “I was researching some old folklore along the coastline, and I guess I must have looked a little… out of place. Next thing I knew, I had Ivan approaching me like I’d just stepped off a UFO. I tried explaining myself, but he was so convinced there was more to the story.”

Lara, who had been silently enjoying the tale, couldn’t hold back her laughter. “That sounds exactly like Ivan. Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s nearly impossible to get him to see things any other way.”

Priscilla nodded. “He kept going on about how he had a ‘sixth sense’ about people and that I had ‘the look.’ I didn’t know if I should be flattered or worried. But eventually, after what felt like an interrogation, I finally convinced him that I wasn’t from another planet.”

Elizabeth wiped a tear of laughter from her eye, glancing over at Lara. “You know, I’ve heard a lot of Ivan’s stories, but I think this one might be my favorite.”

Priscilla chuckled. “Oh, he was stubborn about it. He even threatened to call in reinforcements if I didn’t come quietly. We laugh about it now, but he was so serious at the time!”

Ivan, who had been eavesdropping from the door, finally entered the room with a sheepish grin. “Ah, so we’re reminiscing about my more… creative approaches, are we?”

“Oh, Ivan,” Priscilla replied, smirking. “Just regaling these ladies with the time you almost arrested me for ‘intergalactic trespassing.’”

Ivan scratched his head, chuckling. “What can I say? I had my suspicions!”

Lara placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We wouldn’t have it any other way, Ivan. Life’s never boring when you’re around.”

The four of them laughed, the conversation flowing easily as they shared more stories, each one stranger and more improbable than the last. The manor filled with warmth as the hours ticked by, and for the first time in ages, Priscilla felt truly at home in the strange and chaotic family she’d somehow found herself part of.

Next morning at Croft Manor, with the old crew easing into their odd routines and Ivan’s presence around every corner. The manor had been a haven for some semblance of peace—until that quiet was shattered.

The knock on the door was a sharp surprise, a sound too formal and distinct for anyone they’d expect to show up unannounced. When Lara opened it, she froze. Standing there was Amanda, a face Lara and Elizabeth knew all too well—one that should have been buried in past conflicts. For a moment, the tension in the air was palpable as memories surfaced. Elizabeth’s gaze narrowed as she took in Amanda’s smirk. She hadn’t seen her in years, not since their bitter parting that had left scars deeper than they cared to admit.

“Well, aren’t you all looking cozy,” Amanda said with a half-smile that barely masked the sharp edge in her voice.

Lara exchanged a wary glance with Elizabeth, but before anyone could say more, another shadow emerged from behind Amanda—a chilling sight that made Elizabeth’s blood run cold. It was Doppelganger—her old nemesis, now with the younger face of Lara, mirroring her in an eerie mockery of life. In an instant, the tension erupted into chaos.

Without warning, Doppelganger lunged forward, its eyes locked on the present Lara. The crew moved instinctively to defend, but Doppelganger was relentless. It happened so fast—a swift, lethal strike to Lara’s chest, sending her to the ground. Elizabeth screamed, rushing toward her fallen counterpart, while Priscilla backed up, her face pale with shock. Amanda was gone, her mission accomplished, leaving only a chilling silence in her wake.

In that breathless pause, Doppelganger turned its gaze toward Elizabeth, who was paralyzed by a mix of horror and fury. It lunged again, this time with a feral determination to eliminate her as well. But Ivan, who had slipped away unnoticed in the chaos, returned at that very moment, armed with his old Lee-Enfield rifle, bayonet affixed. His face was steely, his eyes narrowing as he calculated his strike.

With a guttural shout, Ivan rushed forward, plunging the bayonet into Doppelganger’s back with every ounce of his strength. The blade pierced through with such force that it emerged on the other side, stopping inches from Elizabeth, whose eyes widened in shock. She stumbled backward, watching in stunned silence as the life drained from Doppelganger’s form. Ivan’s breathing was ragged, his grip still white-knuckled on the rifle as the figure slumped to the floor, lifeless.

But there was no time for relief. Ivan dropped to his knees beside Lara, his hands trembling as he tried to assess the wound, desperately searching for a pulse. Priscilla knelt beside him, her face etched with worry. They worked feverishly, hoping against hope to find some sign of life. Yet, no matter what they tried, there was nothing—only a stillness that confirmed their worst fears.

Elizabeth’s face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears as she reached out to touch Lara’s still form. Ivan clenched his fists, anger and helplessness swirling within him. Their leader, their unbreakable Lara, was gone.

Chapter 5

The shock of Lara’s death reverberated far and wide. The news blazed across headlines, every major paper and news outlet broadcasting the loss of a woman whose exploits were as legendary as they were controversial. As the world mourned the passing of a true adventurer, those closest to her, her makeshift family, felt the pain most keenly. Zip received the call from Burkov and simply couldn’t process it. Staring at the wall, phone still in hand, he whispered, “She was unstoppable… This can’t be true.”

Burkov’s voice crackled on the other end, heavy with sorrow. “Zip, none of us can believe it. But it’s true. Lara’s… gone.”

A month later, on a grey morning with mist clinging to the grounds, the funeral was held at Croft Manor. It was a somber affair, attended by close friends and allies. Lara’s casket, draped in a deep, dark cloth, rested on the shoulders of Ivan, Burkov, Zip, and Görgy, each of them grappling with the weight of loss as they carried her to the Croft family crypt. Around them, mourners were gathered in silence, each of them honoring Lara in their own way.

As the casket was lowered, Ivan’s stoic expression wavered, the harsh lines of grief creasing his face. Zip sniffled beside him, whispering, “She was always telling me not to get sentimental. Said it made me soft.”

Burkov gave him a sad smile. “She had a soft spot for you, though. For all of us.”

At the back of the crowd, Elizabeth stood quietly, her face pale and stricken, watching as the woman who had once been her younger self was laid to rest. Priscilla held her hand, sharing her sorrow, both women honoring Lara in their own, silent way.

As the ceremony concluded and the mourners began to disperse, Ivan stepped away, retreating to a quiet spot outside the manor’s front garden. The air was cool and brisk, and he pulled out a cigarette, inhaling deeply as he tried to calm the storm raging inside him. His mind was a chaos of memories – Lara’s laughter, her determination, her wit – all gone now, leaving a hollow ache.

But just as he took another drag, he caught sight of something in the bushes. A paparazzo, half-hidden among the trees, was raising a camera, the lens gleaming as he prepared to capture Ivan in his moment of grief.

Ivan’s blood ran cold, then boiled.

Lowering his cigarette, he took a few steps toward the photographer, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is some kind of spectacle?” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

The paparazzo, emboldened by his camera, shrugged. “The world has a right to know, Mr. Tůma. They loved her, too.”

That was all it took. Ivan lunged forward, fists clenched, grabbing the man by his collar and yanking him forward, the camera swinging wildly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ivan hissed, anger barely contained as he shook the photographer. “This isn’t some tabloid circus – this is her life, her memory, her family’s grief. And you dare intrude?”

The man’s bravado faltered, his eyes wide. “Hey, hey – it’s just a photo, man! People want to remember her!”

Ivan’s fists tightened, and before anyone could pull him back, he delivered a punch square to the man’s face. The photographer staggered back, clutching his nose as blood trickled between his fingers.

Burkov and Zip rushed out at the commotion, eyes widening as they saw Ivan standing over the paparazzo, fists still clenched.

“Ivan,” Burkov called, his voice firm but sympathetic, “Come on. Let him be. He’s not worth it.”

Ivan exhaled heavily, his gaze still fixed on the man, who was scrambling to his feet. “If I see you again,” Ivan muttered, voice cold as steel, “I won’t stop with a punch.”

The paparazzo nodded, backing away quickly, his camera left abandoned on the ground. As he disappeared down the driveway, Burkov placed a hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “Lara wouldn’t want you getting into trouble, Ivan. Not for someone like that.”

Ivan’s face softened, the anger slowly giving way to raw sorrow. “I know,” he murmured. “I just… couldn’t let him cheapen this. Cheapen her.”

Zip nodded, his voice quiet. “She wouldn’t have wanted all this fuss, would she? The headlines, the crowds, the attention…”

“No,” Ivan agreed, his gaze dropping to the ground. “But that’s who she was. She couldn’t escape it.”

They all fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts of Lara – the woman who had been so much more than the myths, the legends, the rumors. And now, with the world watching, they were left to grieve her, to honor her memory in the only way they could: by keeping her spirit alive in their hearts.

Chapter 6

Days after Lara’s funeral, Ivan moved through life as if it were an empty corridor echoing with grief. Still grappling with the loss, his mind fixated on one thought—justice, or perhaps something darker. Zip, usually bursting with energy and dry humor, had become withdrawn, barely leaving his room. Meanwhile, the former Zero Agency team convened in somber reflection, each of them struggling with how to process what had happened. Elizabeth, Lara’s past self in the strangest twist of fate, was also there, visibly shaken yet ready to step up alongside the team.

“So, what do we do?” Görgy finally spoke up, his voice strained with barely-contained anger. “Amanda’s gone too far. She took everything from us. So what’s next?”

Ivan clasped his hands, his gaze unfocused, yet charged. “We settle this, once and for all. Amanda has shown she won’t stop until she destroys everything Lara built. I won’t let her.”

Zip looked at Ivan, his expression a mix of grief and shock. “Do you really think we stand a chance against her?” he asked, his voice tinged with doubt. “I mean, she’s been a ghost for years, slipping through every net we tried to set.”

Elizabeth, leaning against the doorway, interrupted. “If you’re going after Amanda, I’m in,” she declared. Her tone was resolute, but a touch of vulnerability crept through. “I know I’m… well, not exactly the same Lara, but I still have all her memories—most of them, anyway. And I have every reason to help you see this through.”

Ivan turned to Elizabeth, his eyes softening for the first time since Lara’s death. “What was she like?” she asked, breaking the silence. “As a wife, I mean.”

He paused, a pained smile flickering on his face. “She was… everything,” he began, his voice choked with emotion. “Smart, stubborn, always three steps ahead. Even when we fought, she’d have this way of making me feel like she’d won, no matter what. She… she made me better, Elizabeth. And now…” His words trailed off as he clenched his fist.

Elizabeth stepped closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Then let’s make sure her legacy is something Amanda can’t tarnish.”

Priscilla, watching from the side, stepped forward. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be smart,” she said, a glint of determination in her eyes. “Amanda’s expecting us to break down. She’s not expecting us to rise up.”

Zip straightened, seemingly pulled back into the present by the determination around him. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady for the first time in days. “We’ve got the skills, the connections, and one hell of a reason to fight. Let’s make her regret every choice she’s made.”

Görgy cracked his knuckles, a fierce grin spreading across his face. “About time we got back into action. Sitting around was never my style.”

The group nodded in unison, a new fire igniting in their hearts. They would take Amanda down, piece by piece, plan by plan, until there was nothing left of her schemes.

Chapter 7

In the dim lighting of Croft Manor’s cellar, Elizabeth led Ivan carefully down the spiral staircase, her movements almost impatient, but graceful, as she held a torch in one hand. She stopped, looking back to make sure he was keeping up.

“Come on, Ivan! I’ve got something to show you,” she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and gravity. She sounded so much like Lara that it gave Ivan pause, memories flickering in his mind. But he only nodded, following her deeper into the cellar, his footfalls echoing.

“You know, Liz, you remind me so much of your mother… er, I mean, Lara,” he said with a smirk, unable to hide his nostalgia.

Elizabeth glanced back, grinning at him. “I suppose I take after her. But you know, I also picked up a few things from you,” she replied, tapping his arm. “I mean, who else would teach me how to drive a stick shift on a half-broken Lada in some godforsaken stretch of countryside?”

Ivan chuckled. “Ah, those were the days! And you, screaming at every pothole.”

They finally reached a small alcove, with stone walls lined with ancient artifacts, armaments, and objects from Croft family expeditions. Elizabeth’s face turned serious as she put down the torch, gesturing to a large, locked cabinet.

“This… this is it,” she said, her voice reverent. She slid the bolt aside, opening the heavy doors. Inside, gleaming faintly in the torchlight, was a massive hammer—Thor’s Hammer, Mjölnir itself.

Ivan’s eyes widened. He exhaled sharply, feeling both awe and a slight tremor in his hands. “Is that—”

“Yes. It’s Thor’s hammer,” Elizabeth confirmed, running her fingers lightly along the handle. “I know Lara would’ve wanted you to have it… or at least to know it was here.”

Ivan reached out, letting his hand rest on the hilt, as if testing its weight without lifting it. “Lara was always one for the grand relics, wasn’t she?”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “She was. But it’s more than that. This was one of her greatest finds, one of her proudest moments. I thought… you should see it.”

Ivan’s expression softened as he looked at Elizabeth. “You know, you might look like Lara, but you have a softer touch.” He glanced at her with pride. “I suppose I’m proud of you too, Liz. You’ve grown up to be everything I taught you, and more.”

She smiled, her hand reaching up to cover his for a moment on the hammer’s hilt. “Thanks, Ivan. And you know, you’re like family to me. After everything that happened… I wouldn’t want to be doing this with anyone else.”

He grinned, patting her shoulder. “Likewise, Liz. Now, about this revenge… what’s the plan? You and I both know Lara would never rest if she knew Amanda was out there free.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “I knew you’d be up for it.” She retrieved a worn blueprint from the pocket of her jacket. “There’s something I’ve been working on. I want to confront Amanda, find out exactly why she came back. We can’t let her think she won.”

They huddled over the map, voices low but filled with purpose. “All right,” Ivan said, a glint of determination in his eye. “Let’s make sure Amanda regrets ever stepping into this manor.”

Elizabeth nodded. “And with Mjölnir and everything else here, she won’t stand a chance.”

Chapter 8

Ivan, Elizabeth, Priscilla, Zip, and Görgy gathered in the dimly lit cellar of Croft Manor, a space brimming with relics and memories. The group was fired up—plans were already unfolding, but the energy felt grounded in both the thrill of adventure and the gravity of the task ahead. Ivan had recently acquired a stunning Mercedes-Benz 220S from the late '50s, its timeless elegance blending perfectly with their vintage strategy.

When Ivan drove the car into the manor’s courtyard, everyone admired it. Priscilla was particularly enchanted by its sleek lines, while Zip muttered something about "taking style points to a new level." Even Görgy, who usually only had eyes for sheep, seemed impressed. Ivan patted the hood with pride, as if introducing a new team member.

After a few moments of enjoying the car’s charm, Ivan turned to Elizabeth with a nostalgic glint in his eye. "Liz, would it be all right if I called you Lara? I know it’s not the same, but… when I look at you, I see her spirit in everything you do and her looks.”

Elizabeth gave him a soft smile. “Of course, Ivan. If it helps, call me Lara. I understand—she was like family to both of us.”

As they prepared for their mission, Ivan’s thoughts returned to his last encounter with Amanda. He turned to Elizabeth, a question lingering in his mind. “What was that stone Amanda was using? I remember it glowing orange. Almost felt like… something ancient.”

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze steady. “That was the Wraith’s Stone. It’s powerful and dangerous, Ivan. It amplifies strength and lets her do things that… aren’t entirely natural.”

Ivan felt a pang of nostalgia, a mix of warmth and sorrow. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small medallion with a portrait of Lara etched on it. For a moment, everyone was silent, sensing the significance of the gesture. He held the medallion over a large, smooth stone they had found earlier, feeling a strange pull.

To everyone’s shock, a blue glow emanated from the medallion, and a soft hum filled the room. The stone lifted, hovering in a field of shimmering blue light. Ivan’s hands trembled slightly, but he held firm, amazed at the unexpected display. Zip whistled, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t know you had a knack for telekinesis, Ivan.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Looks like Mjölnir isn’t the only powerful relic here,” she murmured, watching in awe.

Feeling the rush of this newfound power, Ivan decided to test his limits. “Let’s see what else this does,” he muttered, scanning the room. His eyes landed on a nearby sheep that had wandered in from the garden, blissfully unaware of the chaos around it.

Focusing on the sheep, Ivan extended his hand. The sheep’s eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, as if entranced. Slowly, it trotted over to Ivan, nudging his arm with a soft bleat. Ivan grinned and scratched its head affectionately. “I think I’ll call him… Amadeus,” he declared, earning a round of laughter.

Elizabeth looked amused. “Amadeus, huh? Going for something noble?”

Ivan chuckled. “He’s got character,” he replied, patting the sheep.

Priscilla leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Are you serious about bringing Amadeus along?”

Ivan glanced at her, feigning indignation. “Why not? He’s well-behaved, and who knows? Maybe he’ll come in handy.”

Zip laughed, while Görgy gave Amadeus an approving look. “At least he’s better company than Görgy’s usual choice,” Zip quipped, causing a few chuckles.

With the blue glow fading and the stone returned to the ground, Ivan looked around at the group, feeling an odd sense of unity. He took a deep breath, his voice steady. “All right, team. We’re ready. Let’s make Amanda regret ever crossing paths with the Croft family.”

Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder. “And with the Wraith’s Stone and whatever else she has up her sleeve, we’ll need every ounce of strength and cunning we have.”

The team nodded, each of them preparing mentally for the challenges ahead. And with Amadeus the sheep trotting at their side, they felt ready for anything.

Chapter 9

The early morning sun cast a warm glow over Croft Manor as the team finalized their preparations around the heavily packed Mercedes. Ivan was at the center of it all, his sleeves rolled up, carefully packing the last items into the car with a meticulousness that both impressed and slightly baffled the others.

After tucking away an impressive array of firearms—from his trusty Škorpion and ČZ pistols to a well-worn double-barrel shotgun, his cherished Lee-Enfield rifle, and a Remington 870—Ivan gave the trunk a critical once-over, clearly pleased with his haul. But he wasn’t done yet. With a grin, he hauled a large keg of Plzeň beer into the back, wedging it securely next to the weapons. As a final touch, he added a portable beer tap.

Liz, recently reclaimed her old name Lara, watching him from the sidelines, shook her head with a half-amused smile. “Ivan, this isn’t exactly a road trip.”

“Ah, Lara, you never know,” Ivan replied, patting the keg affectionately. “A mission can get rough. Best to keep spirits high, and a good cold Plzeň does wonders for morale.”

With a resigned sigh, Lara muttered, “Of course,” as Ivan shut the trunk.

The team gathered to go over the plan one last time. Lara, stepping into her role as the mission leader, laid out the strategy with a practiced calm. Ivan and Görgy were designated as the muscle and backup, responsible for the car’s mechanics and, if necessary, brute force. Zip, the tech expert, was set to handle any technical challenges along the way, while Priscilla would accompany Lara as her second.

As Ivan watched Priscilla, a wave of pride crossed his face. He glanced at Lara, smiling. “You know, I’m proud of my granddaughter.”

Lara blinked, surprised. “Granddaughter?” she repeated, looking over at Priscilla in disbelief. “I thought she was your daughter!”

Priscilla, visibly amused, laughed. “Nope, he’s my granddad,” she confirmed, clearly enjoying the reactions this revelation provoked.

Just then, a loud bleating sound came from the nearby field. Ivan’s recently adopted sheep, Amadeus, was grazing peacefully. Unfortunately, Görgy had noticed him too. With a mischievous look in his eyes, Görgy wandered over, sending a chill down the spines of the entire team. They knew that look all too well.

“No, no… please, no,” Zip whispered, as Görgy darted toward the sheep with alarming enthusiasm.

Ivan, who had seen it all before, only sighed, rubbing his temples. Priscilla groaned, rolling her eyes. “Again?” she muttered.

“Görgy!” Ivan barked, his voice filled with a mixture of irritation and resignation. “Have some self-control. We’re on a mission here, not a farm!”

Lara and Zip, however, were absolutely horrified. Lara’s face paled as she took in the bizarre scene unfolding before her, while Zip looked positively queasy.

Priscilla glanced over at them with an apologetic but exasperated expression. “He’s done this… more than a few times.”

Lara, visibly shaken, swayed slightly and muttered, “I… I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

Zip, unable to handle the absurdity any longer, stumbled a few steps back before retching near one of the car’s tires. Ivan sighed deeply but remained unfazed, while Priscilla watched the chaos with a darkly amused smile.

When Görgy finally returned, looking as if nothing strange had happened, Ivan shot him a stern look. “Görgy, this is your last warning. We have guests, and I expect you to behave.”

Görgy just grinned, entirely unaffected by the chiding, as the rest of the team attempted to regain their composure.

“Let’s just… let’s just get going,” Lara said, still visibly disturbed, as she climbed into the car. Zip followed, muttering under his breath about being scarred for life, while Priscilla and Görgy settled into the back seat with varying degrees of calm and amusement.

With one final glance back at Croft Manor, Ivan started the car. The Mercedes roared to life, and as they drove off, Ivan caught sight of the old estate in the rearview mirror, feeling a strange sense of anticipation. He knew this journey would be nothing short of chaotic, but then, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter 10

As the Mercedes cruised along the open road, Lara, seated in the front passenger seat, couldn’t help but notice a framed photograph tucked into the sun visor—a wedding photo of Ivan with an older version of herself. The image was faded, a little worn, but it captured a side of herself she’d only glimpsed in her own imagination: softened, deeply content, looking up at Ivan with a smile she rarely showed the world.

She turned to Ivan, a quiet curiosity in her eyes. “So… we really did this, didn’t we?” she asked, tracing a finger over the frame’s edge.

Ivan nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “We did. You and I were quite the pair.” His tone held a hint of nostalgia, tempered by his usual pragmatic edge. “Time does funny things, Lara. But those memories… I wouldn’t trade them.”

Meanwhile, in the back, Zip, Görgy, Priscilla, and Amadeus the sheep—who had his head sticking out of the window, looking unusually content—were engaged in their own lively conversation. Zip, the newcomer to the field missions, was quickly becoming acquainted with the team’s unique dynamic. Görgy, naturally, was animatedly talking about past escapades, while Priscilla tried to bring Zip up to speed on the family’s twisted lineage and the bizarre situations they frequently found themselves in. Amadeus occasionally bleated, somehow adding to the chaotic camaraderie.

Ivan and Lara’s conversation turned to their next destination, a lingering question hanging between them. Lara furrowed her brow, her mind piecing together the clues from their last encounter with Amanda. “The Mediterranean… Of course,” she murmured, realizing the answer. “There’s an ancient submerged temple—Amanda’s been after it for years. She must be searching for something there.”

Ivan nodded, revving the engine slightly. “Well, let’s not keep her waiting,” he said with a mischievous grin.

He pressed a few hidden buttons on the dashboard, activating the car’s latest “enhancement.” The Mercedes hummed, its interior flashing with strange, otherworldly lights as the vehicle began its transformation. In an instant, they were underwater, submerged in the depths of the Mediterranean, near the entrance of an ancient, shadowed temple.

Lara glanced over at Priscilla. “You’re coming with me,” she said with a grin, nodding towards the temple’s entrance, half-buried in sand and overgrown with strange aquatic vegetation. Priscilla adjusted her gear, her eyes reflecting both excitement and a bit of apprehension.

As the two of them prepared to venture into the temple, Ivan and Görgy busied themselves with unloading a small arsenal of firearms. Ivan cracked open the trunk, handing Görgy an old but reliable Lee-Enfield rifle, while he took up his trusted Škorpion. Zip, who was still getting used to this new level of chaos, ducked down, nervously watching them from his spot beside the car.

“So… we’re just going to sit here and wait?” Zip asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Ivan glanced over, smirking. “Relax, Zip. Just think of it as a day at the beach. A beach with a few uninvited guests.”

Just as he spoke, they noticed shadows moving through the dark waters—a telltale sign of Amanda’s divers closing in. Ivan’s gaze hardened as he held up a hand, motioning for silence. Görgy shifted his grip on the rifle, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Then, without hesitation, the two unleashed a controlled barrage of fire toward the shadows. The shots rang out, muffled and strange underwater, their soundwaves rippling through the water around them. Zip’s face turned pale as he ducked even lower, barely peeking out from behind the car window. Ivan and Görgy, however, were entirely focused, their eyes trained on the approaching threats.

Meanwhile, deeper in the temple, Priscilla and Lara felt the tremors from the gunfire above, sending an uneasy shiver down their spines. They exchanged worried glances but pressed forward, determined to explore the chamber before Amanda’s divers could get any closer.

The ancient temple walls were covered in inscriptions and carvings, depicting tales of forgotten gods and artifacts of immense power. Streaks of golden light filtered through the water, illuminating hidden passageways and strange statues guarding the entrances.

Yet the sound of gunfire grew louder, echoing ominously through the temple corridors.

“Are they…?” Priscilla started, glancing nervously back toward the temple’s entrance.

Lara shook her head, eyes focused. “They’ll handle it. We need to stay on course. If Amanda’s already been here, she might have left clues behind. Let’s just hope Ivan and Görgy can keep them busy long enough for us to figure out her plan.”

Outside, however, the situation was growing more intense. Ivan and Görgy were locked in an intense firefight, the two moving with practiced precision as they held off Amanda’s divers. Bullets whizzed through the water, occasionally striking the car, leaving scratches and dents on its armored exterior.

In the midst of the chaos, Zip’s voice crackled in Ivan’s ear, “How much longer can we hold them off?”

Ivan grinned, reloading his Škorpion. “Long enough, Zip. Just keep your head down.”

Finally, Görgy signaled with a hand motion, indicating that their ammunition was running low. Ivan glanced back at the temple entrance, his thoughts with Lara and Priscilla.

Chapter 11

The gunfire ceased as the last mercenary fell, a single, sharp shot from Ivan catching him in the back of the neck. The underwater temple echoed with a silence that felt almost unnatural after the frenzy of bullets and muffled shouts. Ivan lowered his Škorpion, casting a quick glance over the scattered gear and debris left by the defeated divers. Among the equipment, something unusual caught his eye—a strange, metallic fragment, intricately designed, yet worn with age.

“Görgy, check this out,” Ivan muttered, handing over the object.

Just as they examined the artifact, bubbles disturbed the water near the temple’s entrance. Moments later, Lara and Priscilla emerged, visibly annoyed but determined. They’d navigated treacherous passages, and the ancient structure’s traps had clearly tested their patience. Lara’s face shifted from frustration to cautious curiosity as Ivan handed her the relic.

Her eyes widened in excitement. “Ivan… do you know what this is?” She looked at him with a mixture of awe and joy. “It’s a piece of Thor’s gauntlet—a relic that completes Mjölnir’s power.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A piece of Thor’s… glove?” he asked skeptically. “I thought the hammer was the main attraction.”

Lara shook her head, admiring the artifact in her hand. “Not quite. Mjölnir is powerful on its own, but with this gauntlet, it gains new abilities—ones that legends claim could control lightning and even open portals between worlds.”

Priscilla, trying to catch her breath, chimed in. “So… what now? Are we just supposed to find the rest of Thor’s wardrobe?”

Lara smirked. “Not exactly. But this piece was hidden here for a reason. If we can find the other components, we’ll unlock Mjölnir’s true potential. And if Amanda is after the same thing, then we’re in a race against her.”

Ivan glanced around, surveying the shadowed temple walls and the now-empty stretch of water. “So, where to next, Commander?” he asked, adding a respectful nod.

Lara’s gaze turned serious as she considered the possibilities. “Our next stop,” she said, her voice growing quieter with a sense of gravity, “is the Floating Fortress of Shambala—a hidden citadel said to hold artifacts of immense power, rumored to be linked to ancient Himalayan magic.”

Priscilla’s eyes widened. “Shambala…? I thought that was a myth.”

“Most places worth finding are,” Lara replied with a knowing smile.

Görgy, still in awe of the gauntlet piece, raised an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight: we’re going to the top of the world to track down some hidden fortress? Sounds like my kind of madness.”

Ivan laughed, clapping Görgy on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s only going to get worse from here.” Then he glanced at Lara, his face softening just a bit. “Lead the way, Lara. This time, we’ll beat Amanda to the prize.”

Chapter 12

With a swift twist of the ignition, Ivan revved the engine of the Mercedes, the mighty car rumbling to life. In a flash, they found themselves transported to the edge of a cold, stark plateau—the icy landscape that led up to the Floating Fortress of Shambala. Mist clung heavily to the ground, the eerie silence broken only by the faint rumble of the engine and the occasional bleat from Amadeus, who seemed almost as excited as the rest of the team.

“Zip,” Ivan called, pulling an M16A1 rifle out of the back seat. He handed it to the tech specialist, his eyes glinting with seriousness. “Ever fired one of these?”

Zip looked at the rifle with wide eyes, clearly out of his element but determined to help. “Not exactly,” he admitted, gripping the rifle with a bit of uncertainty.

Ivan nodded and gave a quick, thorough rundown, demonstrating the grip, sight, and trigger discipline. His tone was calm, authoritative, and full of the confidence that only years of experience could bring. “Just keep a steady hand and remember—short, controlled bursts.”

Zip nodded, taking a deep breath. “Got it, Ivan. Thanks.”

Amadeus bleated again, as if to cheer on his comrades, and the others shared a momentary smile before their focus sharpened. Movement flickered on the snowy ridges ahead of them. Through the mist, they spotted Amanda and her mercenaries setting up, their attention diverted away from the team. Ivan’s group had the element of surprise.

“Ready?” Lara whispered, casting a look back at Priscilla.

Priscilla smirked, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Let’s do this.”

The two women moved swiftly and quietly through the rocky outcrops, weaving between icy statues and ancient ruins. Shadows loomed large against the snow as they advanced, the gleam of their target—a golden artifact hidden amidst Amanda’s camp—glistening in the dim light. With a practiced ease, Lara slipped her hands around the artifact, tucking it carefully into her satchel. But as they turned to retreat, a guard stepped into their path. The alarm was sounded, and within seconds, mercenaries swarmed them, weapons raised.

Lara and Priscilla held their ground, but it was only a matter of time before the artifact was snatched back by one of Amanda’s henchmen. He raised it high above his head, laughing mockingly as he taunted them. His victory was short-lived—a single crack echoed through the air as Ivan, from his vantage point by the car, fired his Lee-Enfield. The .303 round found its mark, hitting the mercenary square in the forehead. The artifact fell from his grasp, landing in the snow beside him as he collapsed.

Chaos erupted.

“Now!” Ivan shouted, rallying his comrades. Görgy and Zip took cover behind the Mercedes, adding their fire to the fray. Bullets zipped across the icy plain, each shot precise and unyielding, as the mercenaries struggled to regroup. Görgy’s laughter boomed over the sound of gunfire as he fired relentlessly, the grin never leaving his face.

Priscilla snatched up the artifact, darting through the melee and making her way back to the car. Meanwhile, Lara launched into close-quarters combat with the remaining guards. Her movements were swift, each blow precise and lethal. She blocked a strike, elbowed a guard in the throat, then spun to kick another in the chest. Within minutes, she was the only one left standing in the icy clearing.

Except, of course, for Amanda.

Their eyes met across the battlefield, Amanda’s face twisted with a mixture of rage and fear. Before Amanda could react, Lara drew her H&K USP Match, the pistol aimed with deadly accuracy. She fired, and the bullet grazed Amanda’s cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. Amanda staggered back, her fury giving way to fear, and without another word, she turned and fled, disappearing into the mist.

Breathing heavily, Lara holstered her weapon and made her way back to the Mercedes. She found the others already celebrating, a keg of Pilsner that Ivan had packed earlier now proudly stationed at the back of the car. Ivan had somehow rigged a small tap, serving fresh pints with an air of triumph. Görgy raised his glass, letting out a victorious cheer, while Zip and Priscilla sipped their drinks, still catching their breath. Even Amadeus the sheep was partaking, happily slurping from a shallow cup.

Lara chuckled, shaking her head as she climbed into the front seat beside Ivan. “You never fail to surprise me,” she said, reaching for a pint herself.

Ivan grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “To another job well done,” he toasted, and they all joined in, raising their drinks.

Just as they were about to settle into their victory, a glint from the artifact caught Lara’s eye. She picked it up, her gaze narrowing as she examined it closely. Her eyes lit up with realization, and a wide grin spread across her face.

“This is more than just a trinket,” Lara said, turning to Ivan. “This is a piece of Thor’s gauntlet—a relic that can lead us to the rest of the artifacts.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, where’s our next stop?”

Chapter 13

In a flash of blue light, the Mercedes materialized in the dense, humid jungles of Mexico. Towering ancient ruins loomed above them, their stone steps rising high into the mist, each one covered with thick vines and marked with faded hieroglyphs of ancient Aztec gods. The sounds of the jungle—chirping birds, rustling leaves, and distant howls—filled the air, giving the place an eerie, timeless quality.

Lara gazed out at the landscape and sighed, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “I’m really missing my motorcycle right about now.”

Ivan glanced at her and chuckled. “At least we’ve got the car,” he said with a reassuring smile, patting the dashboard. “Might not be as flashy, but it’s got us this far.”

With a nod, Lara managed a smile, and Ivan hit the accelerator, sending the Mercedes down the narrow stone pathway that wound into the heart of the Aztec temple complex. They maneuvered through the ancient passageways, each turn revealing carvings of gods and symbols that had survived countless centuries. Ivan watched as younger Lara’s gaze lingered on him, her expression thoughtful, curious—something in her eyes reminding him of the older Lara he’d once known and lost. For a moment, memories surged back, memories of laughter, arguments, and the dangerous adventures they’d once shared. The familiar feeling brought a bittersweet smile to his face.

Finally, they arrived at a spacious chamber. In the center stood a stone pedestal adorned with intricate engravings, and upon it lay an artifact—a gold and jade amulet, glimmering faintly in the dim light. Lara studied it closely, tracing the symbols with her fingers, her voice a blend of excitement and reverence. “This… this amulet was used by Aztec priests as a conduit to communicate with the gods. It’s a powerful piece, something that could unlock knowledge from another world.”

But before she could take it, a shiver ran down her spine. Shadows began to gather in the dim corners of the chamber, solidifying into figures. These were no ordinary adversaries; they moved without a sound, their forms ethereal and sinister, their eyes glowing with an unnatural, otherworldly light. Their skin, if it could be called that, seemed to flicker between corporeal and spectral, leaving ghostly trails in the air as they approached.

Without hesitation, Ivan stepped in front of Lara, raising his Remington 870 Riot Gun. He fired at the nearest creature, the echoing blast filling the chamber. But the creature barely flinched, the pellets passing through it like smoke. The haunting figures continued to advance, unfazed, their ghostly eyes locked onto them with an eerie intensity.

Ivan cursed under his breath, frustration growing as each blast from his shotgun seemed to have no effect. “Alright, you freaks, let’s see how you like this!” he growled.

Realizing that brute force wasn’t going to work, Ivan’s hand instinctively reached for the small medallion that hung around his neck—a locket containing a faded photograph of Lara, the original Lara, looking vibrant and alive. He held it tightly, his jaw clenched as memories flooded his mind. The weight of her loss and the warmth of her presence mixed within him, forming a strange, potent energy.

As he closed his eyes, his grip tightening on the locket, an unexpected power surged through him. His eyes snapped open, now blazing with an intense blue glow. Streams of radiant energy poured from his gaze, shooting forth like beams of pure light. The mysterious creatures recoiled, their forms beginning to waver and distort. With a blinding flash, the energy from Ivan’s eyes intensified, vaporizing the spectral beings one by one until nothing remained but faint traces of mist dissipating into the air.

Lara stared, wide-eyed, at Ivan, a mix of awe and confusion in her expression. “Ivan… how…?”

Ivan blinked, the glow in his eyes fading as he released the locket, letting it fall back against his chest. “Not sure,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “But it seems like some things are more powerful than bullets.” He gave her a wry smile, but the look on his face hinted at something deeper—an echo of the past, something only he and the original Lara would have understood.

Lara stepped forward and finally claimed the amulet, her fingers brushing over the ancient artifact. “It seems you’re right, Ivan,” she said softly, looking up at him. “There’s more to this world than just weapons and relics.”

After a moment of silence, Lara consulted her map, her finger hovering over another ancient site. “The next location,” she announced, her voice tinged with excitement and determination, “is deep within the Gobi Desert, where the Temple of the Celestial Dragon lies hidden beneath the sands.”

Ivan nodded, starting the engine. “Hold on tight. It’s going to be a long trip.” With a roar, the Mercedes revved to life once more, and in the blink of an eye, they were gone, leaving the shadows of the Aztec temple far behind, racing toward their next destination—and the mysteries waiting to be uncovered.

Chapter 14

As they climbed into the car, Ivan started the engine and set the GPS for the first leg of their journey across the ocean. Hours later, they were high above the sands of Mongolia, a rented plane descending into the stark expanse of the Gobi Desert, the heat shimmering off the sands. The small, dusty airport where they landed was remote, surrounded by seemingly endless stretches of golden dunes. An old Land Rover waited for them, and as they piled in, Lara reviewed the map created by the two amulets.

“Alright, according to this, the Temple of the Celestial Dragon is somewhere in the northern dunes,” she announced, squinting at the faint symbols.

They drove for hours, winding through the massive dunes, until a hazy silhouette appeared on the horizon—a jagged structure, half-buried in sand. As they neared, Lara saw ancient stone dragons carved into the walls, their eyes hauntingly fierce despite the erosion of centuries.

Inside the temple, the air was cool, and faint beams of sunlight filtered through cracks in the stone ceiling. Intricate murals lined the walls, showing celestial beings holding jade and gold amulets, surrounded by dragons coiling through clouds.

At the temple’s center stood a massive stone door, adorned with dragon scales sculpted in painstaking detail. Lara approached, her heart racing. She held up the amulets, which seemed to pulse faintly as she neared the door. “Looks like we’re in the right place.”

But before she could insert the amulets into the slots, the shadows shifted, and Amanda stepped forward from behind a column, her expression triumphant. "Did you really think you could outsmart me? You’re only here because I allowed it."

Priscilla took a defiant step forward, fists clenched. “We’ve had enough of your little games, Amanda.” She moved with lightning speed, aiming another punch at Amanda, but Amanda dodged this time, her eyes blazing with fury.

“You won’t get away with this,” Amanda hissed, her hand reaching for her belt. She pulled out a small device that glowed with an eerie red light, pressing it before anyone could react. A low rumble echoed through the temple as the walls began to shake, dust falling from above.

Ivan grabbed Lara and Priscilla, pulling them toward the stone door. “We don’t have much time. Lara, get the amulets in!”

Lara moved quickly, fitting each amulet into its corresponding slot. The massive stone door began to grind open, revealing a long, dark corridor leading deeper into the temple. With a glance over her shoulder at the crumbling walls, Lara urged the others forward.

They dashed down the corridor, the sounds of Amanda and her henchmen close behind. As they reached the end of the passage, they emerged into a grand chamber, with towering columns covered in golden dragon scales and an immense jade dragon statue at the center.

Lara approached the statue, noticing that the dragon’s eyes seemed to follow her every movement. Beneath the statue was a pedestal holding a scroll, its edges adorned with red and gold silk.

She unrolled it carefully, the ancient symbols flickering to life with a soft glow. The scroll was a map, not just of the temple, but of locations across Asia, with one final mark on Beijing—Mao Zedong’s Mausoleum.

Priscilla let out a sigh. “It’s real. We’re going to China.”

Ivan looked grim, his voice steady. “Then let’s make it fast. Something tells me Amanda’s not about to give up this chase.”

They rolled up the scroll, slipping back into the dark corridors of the temple, while the shadows closed in behind them.

Chapter 15

In a blinding flash, the Mercedes materialized inside Mao Zedong’s Mausoleum, its arrival startling in the otherwise silent, grandiose chamber. The eerie glow of dim lights cast elongated shadows on the polished marble, illuminating the glass-enclosed figure of Mao himself, preserved eternally in a state of dignified repose. For a moment, no one in the group spoke, each of them taken aback by the sudden teleportation—and the surreal sight before them.

Ivan adjusted his hat, glancing around the hall with curiosity. By his side was Görgy, the Hungarian researcher who had joined their group for reasons mostly known only to him. But Görgy’s reasons were likely rooted in the thrill of discovery, judging by the rapt look in his eyes as he gazed upon Mao’s embalmed body.

“Look at this!” Görgy whispered with a mix of awe and scientific fervor. “This preservation—it’s a marvel of chemical mastery. Just imagine, suspended in formaldehyde, frozen in time like this!”

Ivan took a step back, uncomfortable with Görgy’s fascination as he leaned closer to the glass. But Görgy’s attention remained fixed on the solemn visage of Mao, who seemed to watch them in silence. As Görgy continued to lean in, a thin trickle of formaldehyde seeped from the corner of Mao’s left eye.

“Görgy,” Ivan muttered, trying to keep his voice low. “Maybe step back a bit…”

Meanwhile, Amadeus, the faithful sheep who had accompanied them across continents, padded around the mausoleum with his usual calm curiosity. Unfazed by the sights, he nudged at Lara’s leg, bleating softly.

Lara absently patted Amadeus’s head as she focused on the two ancient amulets they’d collected. Their power had transported them here, and now, Lara sensed, they were guiding her further. The amulets pulsed faintly, almost as though whispering secrets she could only partially understand. As she followed their silent pull, her eyes caught sight of an unusual engraving—a coiled dragon around a sphere etched into the mausoleum wall.

She traced her fingers over the symbol, feeling a shift as the stone slid aside to reveal a hidden compartment. Within it lay a sleek, black obsidian sphere covered in delicate symbols. She held it up, her expression a mix of excitement and caution.

“Look at this,” she whispered to Priscilla, who had joined her at the wall. “An artifact, and not just any artifact—it’s leading us somewhere else.” She examined the symbols closely, her voice trailing off. “Somewhere... cold. The next location is in Antarctica. An underwater temple.”

Priscilla’s brows shot up. “Antarctica? Are you serious?” She crossed her arms, shivering at the thought. “Looks like we’re in for a change of scenery.”

Görgy, who had finally torn himself away from Mao’s display, came closer, peering over Lara’s shoulder at the artifact. “Antarctica! Imagine the mysteries buried beneath that ice! The preservation! The relics! The—”

“Snow,” Ivan interrupted dryly, giving Görgy a nudge. “Focus, professor. We’ve got enough mysteries to keep us busy without you making friends with another preserved leader.”

Görgy laughed, while Priscilla shot Ivan an amused smirk. But before they could continue, Amadeus let out a surprised bleat. All eyes turned to see the faithful sheep, looking rather alarmed, standing in front of Mao’s glass case.

Lara chuckled. “I think Amadeus is ready to get out of here too.” She tucked the obsidian sphere into her backpack and motioned for everyone to pile back into the Mercedes. Görgy made sure Amadeus was settled in the backseat, where the sheep promptly snuggled up next to him. Priscilla shook her head, muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe we’re bringing a sheep to Antarctica…”

Once everyone was in, Lara gripped the amulets tightly, activating their power once more. The mausoleum warped around them, the room flickering and stretching as they were pulled across time and space.

They emerged with a shock to their senses. An icy blast of wind hit them, chilling them to the bone. The Mercedes skidded on slick, frozen ground, coming to a stop on an icy shoreline in the midst of a vast, white expanse. Sharp, jagged mountains jutted out in the distance, and the gray ocean crashed against chunks of floating ice.

Amadeus let out a loud bleat, clearly displeased by the cold, while the rest of the group tried to process their new, freezing surroundings.

Ivan rubbed his hands together, eyeing the seemingly endless landscape of snow and ice. “Welcome to Antarctica, everyone. Hope you brought a coat.”

Lara glanced down at the obsidian sphere, feeling a strong pull toward the water just beyond the ice. She looked back at the group, her gaze resolute. “The temple is somewhere down there, beneath the ice. Whatever we’re looking for, it’s underwater.”

Görgy, clearly thrilled by the idea, wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. “Then let’s make history, shall we?”

With Amadeus grudgingly following behind, the team stepped toward the shore, ready to face whatever lay hidden beneath the icy waters of Antarctica.

Chapter 16

With a shudder and flash of light, the Mercedes teleported itself and its bewildered occupants into the heart of a shadowy, eerie temple. The walls loomed with ancient carvings, glowing faintly in shades of cold blue and violet, as if the stones themselves were alive. Ivan blinked, taking in the unearthly sight before him. At the center of the room stood a strange figure in a stark white suit, shimmering and otherworldly, with massive, translucent wings extending from her back.

Ivan scowled, pointing. “And who exactly is that supposed to be?” he asked Lara, his voice laced with suspicion.

Lara's expression tightened. “That’s Natla,” she replied, her tone hard. “An ancient, manipulative Atlantean queen with a god complex. She’s not here for good, Ivan.”

Ivan gave a snort of disgust. “Looks like we’ve found the worst of the underworld’s lineup.”

The rest of the team, including Amadeus the sheep, exited the vehicle cautiously, each on high alert. Lara turned back to the group, her gaze serious. “We’re in Helheim—the Norse underworld. And whatever lurks here will stop at nothing to keep us from what we seek.”

Moving forward, they soon found themselves face-to-face with an array of creatures that seemed to defy explanation. Hulking, shadowy figures with twisted limbs and glowing eyes slinked out from the shadows, snarling.

“Stay calm!” Lara called out, gripping Mjölnir, the mighty hammer of Thor. With a flash, she swung it, bolts of energy ripping through the creatures, disintegrating them on impact.

Ivan was quick to join in, clutching his medallion—a small charm with a photo of Lara. A strange glow emanated from it as he focused, and in an instant, beams of pure energy erupted from the medallion, searing through their monstrous foes, leaving nothing but scorched stone in their wake.

Priscilla stared at Ivan, her eyes wide with shock. “What is that thing?”

Ivan shrugged as he took aim at another creature, grinning. “A little something to remember Lara by. You’d be surprised what a little sentiment can do in a place like this.”

The group pressed forward, venturing deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. Dark shadows danced along the walls as they moved, the air thick with an unsettling energy. Ivan kept his weapon raised, and Amadeus trotted loyally beside them, although the sheep clearly wanted nothing more than to teleport back to safety.

As they entered a narrow, dimly lit corridor, Ivan’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. A figure stood at the far end, half-shrouded in darkness, but unmistakably familiar. It looked like Lara—his Lara, the one he had married. Without thinking, he called out, “Lara?”

The figure turned, but as it stepped into the light, the team recoiled in horror. This wasn’t the Lara they knew. Her skin was decayed, mottled with patches of gray and green, and her eyes were hollow, dark voids. She smiled, but it was a grotesque, twisted imitation of the real Lara’s warmth.

“What… what is that?” Priscilla whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ivan’s face twisted in disgust. “Not my wife, that’s for sure.”

The creature lunged, and before anyone else could react, Lara raised her USP Match pistols and fired with deadly precision, her face set in grim determination. Ivan joined in, lifting his Lee-Enfield and firing with cold, practiced accuracy. The shots echoed through the corridor, each bullet finding its mark. The grotesque creature shuddered under the impact, its form unraveling, until with a final, blood-curdling screech, it collapsed to the ground, dissolving into a pool of inky darkness.

Lara holstered her guns, casting Ivan a sideways glance. “Let’s keep moving,” she said, her voice tight. “There’s more to face ahead.”

With steely resolve, the team pressed on, their nerves frayed but their purpose unwavering as they ventured deeper into the heart of Helheim. The air grew colder, shadows thickened, and they knew that whatever awaited them in the depths would be unlike anything they had ever faced.

Chapter 17

As the group fought through the last wave of monstrous creatures, the intensity of Helheim seemed to grow even darker and colder, the shadows twisting unnaturally around them. Ivan and his team pressed forward, each of them exhausted yet undeterred, when they finally entered the enormous cavern where the World Serpent lay coiled, dormant yet terrifyingly massive.

Jörmungandr’s glistening scales seemed to catch the faint light, casting an eerie reflection across the chamber. Its breath was slow, almost imperceptible, yet the ground seemed to tremble with every exhale.

“Jörmungandr,” Lara whispered, her voice a mix of awe and caution. “The World Serpent from Norse myth. It’s said to bring about the end of the world. This… this is one of the darkest places we could be.”

Priscilla swallowed hard, glancing nervously at the enormous creature. “And it’s just… asleep?”

“For now,” Lara replied, her voice steady. “But if it wakes, we won’t have a chance. We need to move carefully.”

As they carefully made their way around the beast, a sudden echo of laughter filled the chamber—a sharp, chilling sound that broke the heavy silence. Turning, they saw Natla stepping forward, her piercing eyes glinting with menace. Her dark wings extended, their shadows sprawling ominously across the cavern floor.

“Oh, little mortals,” Natla sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “You think you can play in my realm and leave unscathed? I am eternal. I am beyond death.”

The group instinctively scattered, seeking cover, but Ivan stood his ground, a strange calm in his stance as he looked up at Natla. He tightened his grip on the medallion around his neck, his gaze hard and unyielding.

“You think eternity makes you untouchable?” Ivan replied, his voice cold. Without hesitation, he raised his medallion, its light swelling in intensity until it bathed the cavern in a brilliant, piercing blue.

Natla’s eyes widened, her expression slipping into confusion. Before she could react, Ivan unleashed the medallion’s full power. The blue beams shot forward, striking Natla and enveloping her in an intense, otherworldly light. She staggered backward, struggling against the force, but it was no use. The aura of immortality faded, draining from her as she was forced to the ground.

“No… what have you done?” Natla’s voice shook as she looked down, her hands trembling as she felt the mortal flesh she hadn’t known for centuries.

Ivan smirked, his voice unwavering. “Just made you human again. Let’s have a little chat.”

The team watched in stunned silence, unsure of what to expect next. Lara, in particular, was taken aback, staring at Ivan with a look of disquiet. She’d never seen him like this, a side of him so relentless, so dark. But Ivan was determined, and he moved forward, grabbing Natla by her collar and lifting her up with unexpected strength.

“Where’s Amanda?” Ivan’s voice was low but intense, each word like a blow.

Natla squirmed, glaring at him with defiance. “I… I don’t know—”

Ivan didn’t let her finish. With a sudden, swift slap, he interrupted her, his grip tightening. “I won’t ask again. Where is she?”

Lara took a step closer, her hand reflexively moving toward her pistol. She had seen Ivan intense before, but this was something else. She exchanged a quick, worried glance with Priscilla and Görgy, each of them visibly unsettled.

Natla, disoriented and visibly shaken, tried to pull back, but Ivan didn’t relent. “She’s… she’s in the Forgotten Temple, beyond the Gates of Night!” she stammered, her eyes wide with fear. “Near the Antarctic shores. That’s where she’s hiding!”

Ivan’s face remained unreadable as he released her, stepping back with a grim nod. He glanced briefly at Lara, who watched him with a look that was part caution, part fear.

Natla seemed to grasp at her last hope, desperation clear in her eyes. “Please… I can still be of use to you. You don’t have to—”

Ivan shook his head slowly, his gaze hardened. “For everything you’ve done to Lara, to all of us—you’re finished.” He took a steady breath, then, with an unflinching resolve, raised his Bayonet.

Lara gasped, reaching out instinctively. “Ivan, wait—”

But Ivan didn’t falter. In one swift motion, he severed Natla’s head, letting it fall to the ground with a sickening thud. For a moment, the entire cavern fell silent. Lara looked away, her hand covering her mouth as the shock and horror washed over her. She’d taken lives before, but this… this was different.

Priscilla’s face had gone pale, and even Görgy, usually the most fearless, shifted uncomfortably.

Ivan, however, seemed unmoved. With grim determination, he lifted Natla’s head and affixed it to a sharp metal spike. He turned to face the team, his voice level but cold. “This is a message. For Amanda, and for anyone who thinks they can cross us.”

Lara looked at him, unable to mask the unease in her eyes. “Ivan… I…” She struggled to find the words, her voice almost trembling. “I didn’t know you had this… side to you.”

Ivan’s expression softened just a fraction as he looked at her. “Sometimes, Lara, justice isn’t pretty. You taught me that.” His gaze dropped to the medallion around his neck, and a shadow of sorrow flickered in his eyes. “She made me lose you once. I won’t let that happen again.”

The weight of his words settled over the group, each of them coming to terms with what had just transpired. Amadeus, their faithful sheep, let out a low, distressed bleat as if sensing the somber mood.

Priscilla broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “So… we’re just going to carry… that… with us?”

Ivan gave a firm nod, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. “Yes. This isn’t over until we’ve found Amanda.”

Lara took a deep breath, steadying herself as she placed a hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “Let’s… let’s just get out of here. We’ll deal with Amanda, but let’s leave this place.”

Without another word, they made their way back to the Mercedes, each of them haunted by what they’d witnessed. As Ivan carefully loaded Natla’s head into the back of the vehicle, he caught a glimpse of Lara’s troubled expression in the rearview mirror.

He met her gaze, his face softening just a little. “I did what I had to, Lara. You understand that, don’t you?”

She hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. “I do… but sometimes, the cost feels… higher than it should be.”

Ivan sighed, nodding as he looked forward. “That’s the price we pay for this life.”

With that, he started the engine, the roar echoing through the icy halls as they prepared to leave Helheim behind. But the shadow of what had transpired lingered over them, each of them knowing that this mission had taken them to places far darker than they had ever anticipated.

Chapter 18

With a jarring jolt, Ivan and his motley crew find themselves hurtling through space and time in the well-worn leather seats of Mercedes, a gleaming 220S, whose engine purrs as if it’s still cruising a calm boulevard instead of tearing through interdimensional rifts. The walls of reality twist and blur outside the windows, but inside, the group is packed in tight: Ivan in the driver’s seat, Görgy fiddling with his knife in the passenger seat, Lara squished between Priscilla and Zip in the back.

One moment, they’re suspended in an endless stretch of color and noise; the next, they land with a bone-rattling thud in the dark, musty heart of the Temple.

Ivan squints, adjusting his eyes to the dimness. The massive stone columns stretch toward a vaulted ceiling, and the air smells ancient, like centuries of secrets and decay. He quickly scans the room, muttering to himself, “Amanda has to be here somewhere…”

But before he can finish his thought, movement catches his eye. Two figures emerge from the shadows, stepping into the flickering torchlight—and Ivan’s jaw drops. There, staring back at him with eerie blankness, are two identical doppelgangers: one of himself, the other of Lara.

“What the…” Ivan breathes, caught off guard.

Lara crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as she sizes up her copy. “Is it supposed to be flattering or creepy? Because it’s mostly just weird.”

Priscilla leans in with a sly smile, inspecting Ivan’s doppelganger. “I dunno, I think it’s kind of an improvement,” she teases, earning a snort from Zip.

But Ivan’s mind is already working, recognizing an opportunity. “Doppelgangers, huh?” He chuckles, stepping forward, his tone commanding. “Well, you two work for me now. First order: find Amanda and bring her to me.”

The doppelgangers stare at him, emotionless, but after a beat, they turn mechanically, disappearing down a darkened corridor. The group waits in silence, listening to the eerie echoes of footsteps fading into the Temple’s depths.

Moments later, the doppelgangers return, dragging a thrashing, cursing Amanda. Her eyes dart around the room, widening as she takes in her captors. She’s no stranger to Ivan’s band of misfits, but the blank-eyed copies of Ivan and Lara send a shiver down her spine.

“Let me go, you mindless freaks!” she snarls, struggling against their vice-like grips. They shove her down in front of Ivan, her wrists and ankles still pinned by the doppelgangers’ iron grasps.

Ivan smirks, looking down at her with cold satisfaction. “Lovely to see you too, Amanda. Now, let’s make this easy, shall we?”

She spits at him, fury etched across her face. “You’re insane, Ivan. All of you. And now you’ve stooped to using cheap copies?” She glares at the doppelgangers.

Ignoring her insults, Ivan casually pulls a length of rope from his bag. “Oh, hush now, Amanda.” He swiftly binds her wrists and ankles, while Amanda writhes, her voice a torrent of curses and insults.

Finally securing the knots, Ivan straightens, glancing at Görgy with a wicked glint in his eye. “Görgy,” he says, drawing out the words for maximum effect, “why don’t you entertain yourself? Amadeus could use a little attention.” He gestures to Amadeus, their clueless sheep, who’s been tagging along since they left Craft Manor.

Görgy’s eyes light up as he cackles, rubbing his hands together. “Anything for you, boss!” He strides over to Amadeus, casting a hungry look at the sheep. Zip looks away, chuckling in disgust, while Priscilla mutters, “Oh, that poor sheep…”

Amanda’s face drains of color, her bravado faltering as Görgy moves closer to Amadeus, making exaggerated noises to add to the show. She stares in horrified disbelief, her stomach churning. Finally, unable to hold back, she vomits, doubling over as her rage turns to utter revulsion.

Ivan smirks, wiping a speck of spit from his cheek. “Oh, Amanda, I thought you had a stronger stomach.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “I figured we’d settled things between you and Lara. I thought you’d gotten over that childish rivalry of yours.”

Amanda sneers back, hatred burning in her eyes. “You think I’d let that washed-up wannabe and her army of freaks push me around?” She looks him up and down with contempt. “I couldn’t care less about you, Ivan, or your ridiculous attempts at ‘peacekeeping.’ You’re nothing but a gray-haired relic.”

Ivan’s face darkens, but he remains silent, reaching into his pack. With a grim satisfaction, he pulls out his macabre prize—Natla’s severed head, lifeless and pale. He holds it up to Amanda, who freezes, her defiance cracking as she gasps in horror.

“N-Natla?” she whispers, staring at the head in shock.

He smirks, savoring her reaction. But before he can say a word, Amanda regains her composure and spits at him, the glob landing squarely on his cheek.

Ivan’s patience snaps. In one swift motion, he swings the butt of his Lee-Enfield rifle into her temple, the impact producing a sickening thud. Amanda’s body goes limp, her head lolling as she slips into unconsciousness.

Zip winces, shaking his head. “Was that really necessary?”

Ivan wipes his cheek, unfazed. “She had it coming.” He lifts Amanda’s unconscious form, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Always one for the dramatic, aren’t you?” Priscilla quips, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Before Ivan can respond, the familiar hum of Mercedes’ engine fills the Temple. The car appears at the edge of the room, headlights casting eerie shadows across the stone floor. Ivan nods to his crew, loading Amanda into the backseat while Lara, Görgy, Priscilla, and Zip pile in after her.

Ivan settles into the driver’s seat, patting Mercedes’ dashboard affectionately. “Take us back to Craft Manor, girl.”

With a low rumble, Mercedes’ engine kicks into gear, and they’re off, hurtling through the rift once more. The surreal lights of the Temple fade away, replaced by the familiar, stately halls of Craft Manor, where they land with a smooth stop.

Ivan lowers Amanda onto the nearest couch in the foyer, stretching his arms with a sigh of satisfaction. “Mission accomplished.”

Chapter 19

Amanda stirs, her mind foggy and head throbbing, as she struggles back to consciousness. But the moment her senses return, she feels something pressing roughly against her neck. Dazed, her hand rises to the source—a thick, coarse rope. Her heart pounds, and panic rises within her as she realizes what it is: a noose, tightly looped around her throat.

Her eyes snap open fully, and she’s met with a sight that twists her stomach into knots. Beneath her, Görgy stands with his hand firmly gripping a heavy iron lever, his face lit with a twisted, gleeful anticipation. Just beyond him, seated in a row, are Lara, Zip, and Priscilla, their faces impassive, watching her with a mixture of cold resolve and detached focus.

In front of them stands Ivan, his expression steely and composed, like a judge weighing a final sentence. His eyes settle on Amanda, and she feels his gaze cut through her, devoid of mercy or warmth.

“No… no, you can’t!” Amanda gasps, jerking against the rope, her voice thick with panic. Her wide, fearful eyes dart between the faces of her captors. “This isn’t right! You can’t do this to me!”

But Ivan’s voice rings out, stern and unrelenting, drowning out her desperate pleas. “Amanda Evert,” he says, his voice echoing in the silent hall, “you stand accused of theft, terrorism, and—” he pauses, his eyes narrowing—“of murdering someone I held dear: Lara Tůma-Croft.”

Amanda’s defiance flickers. She looks to the younger Lara, a last hope in her eyes, as if the woman might somehow intervene, might offer a plea for mercy. But Lara’s face remains hard, her eyes colder than Amanda has ever seen them. There’s no forgiveness here.

Ivan resumes, his voice level and authoritative. “You’ve been given your chance to change, Amanda, and you’ve squandered it time and again. You have no remorse, no trace of humanity in you. For these crimes, there is only one punishment.”

Amanda’s breathing grows rapid as his words sink in, her mind reeling. “No, please!” she cries, twisting frantically in the noose, but the bonds only tighten around her neck, cutting into her skin. Her heart races, and a cold sweat forms as she realizes the finality of Ivan’s expression. “This isn’t justice! You’re all mad!” she shrieks, wild with desperation.

But her outbursts meet only stony silence. Ivan’s gaze remains fixed, implacable, as he utters his final words. “The sentence is death, by hanging.”

Amanda lets out a strangled, desperate cry, struggling against the noose, her face twisted with terror. “No! Ivan, don’t do this! Lara—Zip—” she pleads, but their faces remain impassive, her words falling on deaf ears.

Ivan’s gaze shifts to Görgy, who is already grinning in anticipation, his hand tightening around the lever. He meets Ivan’s eyes, receiving his silent command with relish. Without a moment’s hesitation, Görgy pulls the lever, and with a sickening creak, the trapdoor beneath Amanda’s feet gives way. Her body drops, and the rope snaps taut, cutting off her final scream in a brutal instant. Her neck breaks with a sharp crack, and her body dangles in the stillness, swaying slightly as silence descends over the room.

The tension dissipates as Ivan stands before her lifeless form, his gaze cold and distant. After a moment, he breathes a weary sigh, turning to the others. “It’s done.”

Zip and Priscilla exchange a glance, nodding their agreement, while Lara watches the scene with solemn finality. Ivan’s voice carries a note of weariness as he speaks again. “We’ll have her body cremated. The ashes will be scattered into the North Sea, far from here. That way, she won’t trouble us—or anyone else—again.”

One by one, the others begin to drift away, leaving Ivan standing alone in the dim hall. But a soft voice stops him. “Ivan…”

He turns to see Lara, her younger self, standing close by, her eyes full of a quiet intensity. “Would you stay with me?” she asks, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

Ivan regards her, a warmth breaking through his stoic exterior. Her eyes, though youthful, are tempered with maturity, carrying a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability that tugs at him. He offers her a gentle smile. “If that’s what you want, Lara, then yes. I’d be honored to stay by your side.”

A glimmer of relief crosses her face, and she reaches out, slipping her hand into his. “I would. Croft Manor feels…empty now, but with you here, it might feel like a home again.”

Ivan squeezes her hand gently, a faint smile on his face. “Then I’m here, for as long as you’ll have me. I’ve got the time now,” he adds with a light chuckle. “Zero Agency has dismissed me, and I’ve been retired from teaching—didn’t exactly give me a choice there.”

Lara gives a small, teasing smile. “So you’ve nothing else tying you down. Good,” she says, her voice softening. Then, with a slight blush, she adds, “Ivan… would you marry me?”

Ivan is momentarily taken aback by her words, and he searches her face to see if she truly means it. Her eyes hold his, clear and sincere. In that moment, a new warmth fills his heart.

With a slow, steady smile, Ivan reaches out, taking both of her hands in his. “Yes, Lara. I’ll marry you.”

As they stand together in the shadowed hall of Croft Manor, a new chapter begins, woven from the ashes of the past. Together, they turn their backs on the specter of Amanda’s memory, facing instead a future where, at long last, peace might find them.