Words: 1910

Warnings: none at all

SUMMARY: MCU Crossover With Tomb Raider 2013

Request by: Anonymous

Author: Rouge

“Come here, boys! We have fresh meat over here!”

The man had appeared out of the foliage with barely a rustle of his announcement. His clothing was weather worn and threadbare, a suggestion of a harsh life. He could see stains of questionable and queasy origins spattered here and there, dark like ink but not with the same texture, not at all. His hair was dark and greasy, his scratchy beard thick. The leer in his eyes and the crooked smirk weren’t welcoming either. He had a gun. Bucky recognized it simply because he had grown accustomed to their sight over the many years.

He was alarmed when he began to pick out more bodies emerging into sight from the darkness of the forest, some up high on overhanging precipices; several were in trees, and the rest on the ground, flanking the first man. Some had rifles. Others, pistols. He even noticed, oddly enough, some were armed with bows and arrows.

All were aimed at him.

“If this is your welcoming committee, then I shudder to think about the reception of guests you fail to successfully entertain. This is rather poor in taste, if you ask me.”

The first man, the leader of the ragtag bunch, scowled and spat out a curse at him. It took Bucky a moment to realize he had spoken Russian, the dialect heavy as the syllables growled over one another. It took him another to realize what the man had said.

“Fucking smart ass. I’ve shot men for less insult.”

He jerked the gun in his hand, pointing a vague direction for Bucky to move. Bucky didn’t. Instead, he addressed the man in his apparent native tongue. “Where are you taking me?”

The Russian was unimpressed at being addressed in his mother tongue, even if he did give pause.

“Move!”

The weapon’s hammer was cocked back for emphasis, a loud and unsettling click that cleaved the very air with its sound. He startled when one of the men suddenly pitched forward with barely a grunt and hiss of air issuing from his mouth. He fell forward, his weapon—a rifle—clattering to the forest floor with a loud clatter, tangling in the undergrowth. An arrow protruded from the Bucky man’s backside.

The Russian barked at his men, stirring them into action and they scrambled into organized chaos. The Russian turned on him, the barrel of the gun reestablished on him. He hissed away, stalking forward to close the gap between him and Bucky.

“She’s come for you, boy,” he growled, a dark light sparking in his eyes. “I’ll kill you before she gets a chance to even see your face.”

The gut punch had the taller man doubling over, wheezing heavily at the strike. Bucky wasn’t aiming to kill or maim the man, simply disarm him and relocate. The Russian’s grip on his gun hadn’t broken, but he was too busy catching his breath to notice. He never got the chance to, either.

Another arrow whizzed out from the dark and struck the Russian’s neck, punching through from back to front, an arrowhead sprouting out of his throat. The gun fell from abruptly limp fingers, and then the Russian followed suite with a strangled gurgle. Bucky stumbled back, in horror and shock. The light in the Russian’s eyes went out and he wheezed his last breath, blood bubbling from the oozing wound as he collapsed on his face.

The forest fell silent and it was in that moment he realized all the men that had appeared from nowhere were dead.

All of them.

An unsettling silence had Bucky over the forest, and the shadows around him seemed to grow darker, longer, reaching for him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up and stood at attention while an icy shudder snaked its way down his spine.

His metal arm reached his vest’s pocket and pulled out a handy knife. The dark blade was gleaming in what little light the moon above provided. The familiar weight of a tactic vest settled around his shoulders, providing a comforting sense of security and protection as it did.

He felt eyes on him, but how many and from where, he wasn’t too sure. He just knew that whoever killed the men, they were still here. Bucky didn’t have long to wait. He whirled at the first sign of movement, but he stopped short of himself in surprise at what he faced.

It was a slip of a young woman, much smaller than he was. She was dressed sensibly enough to move fast and not allow herself to be caught up by snagged clothing. It was all form fitting without being too tight on her, she had grey tight cargo pants, a striped shirt which probably was white in the past, pair of a hiking boots. There was a bulk to her build and Bucky saw why. The silhouette of knives strapped at her sides, a rifle on a sling over her shoulder, a quiver of arrows belted at her hip, and a bow held casually in one hand, a pistol in the other. She cleared the area with the pistol, watching for any unwanted movement before holstering it at her back when she deemed it safe.

She had beautiful, big brown eyes and smooth skin. Bucky noticed a little bruise at her cheek. Her little nose was adding kind of a charm to her figure. She slowly rised her brow, glaring at him.

The woman ventured closer, her posture still tense but it had relaxed greatly in comparison to the few steps she had taken when she arrived. She was showing she wasn’t an enemy by holstering her weapons, but she would still ready at the drop of a hat to jump into action if things went south. He could sense all of that just by the way she held herself.

She slowly reached to sling the bow on a holster on her back, leaving her hands open and free. Her eyes never left him.

“These men would have killed you if I hadn’t intervened. The Solarii aren’t known for their kindness and mercy. Negotiating with them is impossible when they’ve been trained to kill without hesitation. Especially if it looks like you’re going to fight back.” She started in way of greeting. The woman tilted her head to the side. “Surprised they delayed so long in shooting you. Good thing they did. Gave me time to get here.”

He was still tongue-tied at the suddenness of the events that had transcended within the span of a few sparse minutes.

She turned, motioning for him to follow.

He trailed after her with uncertainty in his steps. “Wait… wait! Where am I? Who are these Solarii? And what’s your name?”

The woman craned her head to peer over her shoulder at him. Her gaze was steady and even, unfaltering as she studied him. They passed through the undergrowth for several minutes in silence before she answered him.

“You’re on an island called Yamatai. It’s in the Dragon’s Triangle, west of Japan. The Solarii are…shipwreck survivors. They’re a band of murderers that have laid claim to the island, killing or recruiting any men who wash up on shore. They burn any women they come across.”

A sour taste coated the back of his throat and his stomach turned uneasily at that. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten here, and he wondered if he was alone.

I think I am, but…no. Please don’t let the others be here.Steve. Sam. Natasha.

“Have…have there been any others…?” He couldn’t finish. The woman seemed to take that as a cue.

“Like you? No. You’re the only one I’ve come across, dressed as you are.”

There was little relief in her answer. It only meant he was the first, and that the others might very well be here.

The woman unclipped something from her belt and waggled the item. It was an oval-shaped device, black and ringed with perhaps a white or yellow stripe. A thin tube stuck out from its top.

“The Solarii get riled up when others are spotted on the island. No doubt they’ve already gotten on the horn and started bleating like the mindless sheep they are to others on their radios about you.” She continued as they began climbing up a small incline. The trees were thinning, and there was a path up ahead, and it looked like there was an old bridge they could cross. “You’re the only one right now. If there were others, I would have heard about them on this.”

He didn’t feel very reassured, even with that statement. A thought occurred to him.

“You never told me your name.”

They came across the bridge. It might have once been painted a pleasing, imperial crimson red, but time had taken its toll on it. Still, it was intact and spanned over the length of a small pond. The night critters had begun their hushed chorus and he had barely noticed until then.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But then, what do I call you? My name’s James Barnes, but more often I’m called Bucky.”

When she walked, she was quiet. She moved with the purpose to be as quiet as possible. He sought to do the same, in case they ran into any more of those Solarii men. He didn’t fancy having another dozen guns pointed at his person, thank you very much.

“Lara. Lara Croft.”

He stopped halfway across the bridge, startled.

“There’s a way off?”

She paused at the end of the bridge and turned a little to view him more properly. “Yes. There’s a boat. I’ll have to fix it, but I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No. I mean..” She hesitated. “Not by now at least.  have a safe place where you can stay” she offered, shrugging slightly.

She eyed him a little more critically, her mouth pulling into a shrewd, thin line. “Trained fighter or not, I’m not risking a stray bullet hitting you in the head.” Lara crossed her arms at her chest, rolling her eyes. “Besides.” She took a look at his metal hand. “It shoulkd be useful to defend yourself. But you were just standing there, like a child lost in the mist” a sad smile crawled at her rosy lips as she was speaking.

Lara gave a small nod and turned, motioning him to keep following.

“I can help” he pressed insistently. “Please. At least lemme help with something. You saved me.”

“No, you can’t by now.” She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, it grated on his nerves. He started after her, silence be damned if it meant catching up.

“And how do you know? You don’t know me, or what I can or can’t do. I can do quite a lot. I killed a lot of people..” Bucky growled loudly, streatching his metal fingers.

She glanced at him as he dropped back, his steps faltering until he stopped. “If you could kill, then you would have done so back there. Those men would have been dead before I met up with you. That’s how I know you can’t do what I need to be done by now to get us out of here. It’s kill or be killed on this island. But for now,” she looked around, sighng, “let’s get to the hideout. It’s gonna rain.”