WdC Masquerade - Lara Croft #1

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WdC Masquerade - Lara Croft #1

She stood at the glass and steel railing of the CÉ LA VIE SkyBar, gazing out at the waters of Marina Bay some six hundred feet below. She sipped her Singapore Sling cocktail, the hint of a smile appearing at the corner of her mouth as she watched other SkyBar patrons nervously approach the railing, very few willing to venture right up to it. Then again, they probably hadn't traversed the Thorong La Pass in the Himalayas, or navigated the Musou Tsuribashi Bridge in Japan during one of the infamous windstorms that twist and flip the bridge end-over-end, hundreds of feet in the air.

They probably hadn't done those things because they weren't Lara Croft.

Not everybody can be.

Lara stood, drink in hand, gaze lingering on the glittering dark waters of the bay that reflected the lights of the nearby cityscape. Then she shifted focus to her true objective: the ArtScience Museum. Occupying a space right on the water on the other side of the Casino and the Sands Nightclub & Theater buildings, she had a perfect vantage point from the SkyBar, fifty-six floors up in the corner of the resort's Tower 3.

"Well hellooo there..."

A voice disturbed Lara's train of thought. When she looked over in the speaker's direction, she found herself even more disturbed at the sight of a guy in a knock-off Spider-Man outfit standing there, leisurely reclining against the railing.

He looked about sixty pounds off his ideal "Marvel Studios training regimen" weight, and the way that his mask kept looking appraisingly up and down, she had to assume he was checking her out.

"You remind me of a Little Caesar's pizza," Fat Spider-Man said.

"I don't know what that—" Lara began.

"Because I could be 'hot and ready' for you in about five minutes!" he finished, guffawing loudly.

Lara resisted the urge to give him a lead enema with her dual Heckler & Koch USP Match pistols... which she unfortunately left behind in her hotel room because: (a) they were the wrong kind of accessory to pair with this dress, and (b) the SkyBar technically had a prohibition on bringing in "any items that could potentially injure a guest." As if she needed her guns to do that!

Still, she opted instead for an eye roll and a one-liner.

"Hey, don't be like that, girl. I can be your coconut if you want! We can smash it until the white stuff come ou—"

It was Lara's turn into interrupt.

"Did you know that the average person carries two-thirds of their body weight above their waist? In your case, I'd assume it's probably significantly more, but that's actually to your disadvantage."

"Uh, why's that?"

Lara stepped right up to him until their bodies were nearly pressed together. He reflexively leaned back and found his upper body over the railing."

"Because right now all I'd have to do is apply a little pressure to your chest, and your body weight would carry you right over the railing and send you tumbling end-over-end, until you exploded like a water balloon all over the ground fifty-six stories below where we're standing right now."

He gulped.

"Hey, hey... I didn't mean any offense. I was just complimenting you."

"In the future, maybe save the compliments for a sexual partner that's more receptive to your overtures. Like your right hand. Or the couch in your mom's basement."

Lara stepped away from Fat Spider-Man and watched as he scurried off and left the SkyBar post haste.

She returned to her thoughts of the ArtScience museum and the object it contained that brought her halfway around the world: the egg.

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609 words

Written for: "Wdc 24th Birthday Masquerade Party"

Submitted via: "Tomb Masquerader"

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