Chapter Text
“I don't think this was a very good idea,” a calm male voice speaks up through the mountain winds and dancing snowflakes. A group of six people, five male and one female, stays silent for a moment, as if wanting to agree but not wishing to admit they might have bitten off more than they can chew.
“It's not your job to think,” the only woman present speaks at length and glares at the cowboy, then turns the glare at the rest and dares anyone to raise another objection.
“Yeah but that fucking cold-” the youngest of them, a boy in his late teens with red hair and freckled nose whines and hugs himself tightly. It's not his boss that snaps at him though, instead the biggest and broadest of them, a man with a bald head and dark skin sharply contrasting with the omnipresent snow, takes a snarling step forward and fingers his huge combat knife: “What the hell did you just say shitstain? You wanna die?”
“Not fucking you, Kold,” the boy growls and furrows his brows, “but the cold! The fucking cold! I'm freezing!”
“You got a problem with me, Kid?” Kold takes another step, the knife glinting menacingly in his hand.
“Oh my fucking god!” Kid rolls his eyes but takes a cautious step back. “I'm saying-”
“I heard you the first time, you co-”
“Both of you, stop it!” Their boss barks at them. Her three other henchmen watch the performance as if it were an everyday occurrence. Which it probably is.
Kold and Kid freeze where they stand – Kid a little more literally, judging by his lips slowly turning blue – and when it's reasonably certain they won't try to kill each other as long as Kid keeps his mouth shut (so not for long), the woman turns to a heavily dressed duo huddled together, sharing vital heat.
“Pierre, climb up there to see if there's any way to open the doors.”
“But madame,” Pierre tries politely after working his frozen mouth to a usable state, “you know I can't stand heights since Rome. Climbing all the way up-” he stops at the sight of her withering stare and feels his partner hug him tighter.
“Hey hey,” Kid makes himself heard again because of course he can't stay silent for a few seconds even in this cold, unlike the other blabbermouth of the group who is yet to make a sound besides rattling teeth. “Hey, Frenchie,” the teenager is grinning, “if you don't like climbing, just let Kold throw you up there like a fucking baseball, won't even have time shit your pants!” He's openly cackling now so he doesn't see the calculating stare several members of the group are suddenly giving him.
“I don't doubt Kold's strength,” their boss says, “but the doors are very high. A lighter load would be preferable.”
The boy's mouth shuts with a snap. Their boss doesn't usually join their banter. Did something happen to her or- “Oh... no, nonono...” She actually means it; he pales and backs away, mindful of the edge of the cliff.
“Kold, do it,” she orders impatiently.
“Fuck no!” Kid tries to scramble off again, screeching. “Let the Frenchie piss himself, who cares?!” He avoids the pile they made of their luggage when they arrived and jumps up a boulder, only to slip at its snow-covered surface. Kold is right at him but Kid uses his comparatively short and slender stature to slip away between the bigger man's legs. “It's all this fucker's fault, he gutted the fucking guide, maybe he knew how to open ughwaaah!” he screeches as he feels huge hands grab him, hopelessly wiggling in Kold's grasp who is having the time of his life: “Good thing I did then, or I wouldn't get to do this!”
The high-pitched shriek scares what few animals are hiding in the white slopes around and only Kid's reflexes make him latch himself onto the upper frame of the doors instead of splatting on the wall like a fly on a windshield.
“I'm fucking gonna kill you I fucking hate you I hate you all!” he panics and scrambles on the carved stone to get to a more stable position.
“Boss, please remind me again why you couldn't just hire that Croft woman?” the cowboy inquires with a soft sigh as the five on the ground crane their necks to watch Kid's progress.
“The same reason Pierre is scared of heights now,” the boss answers levelly but there's an undercurrent of both amusement and frustration in that quirk of her lips. “She's more trouble than she's worth,” – Pierre's companion moves his hand surreptitiously to cover his crotch – “and she might not part willingly with what she finds, as per her background check.” Pierre nods vigorously in agreement, nearly smothering his partner in his arms who returns it with just as much strength.
“Then what about someone else?”
“There's no-one else good enough,” comes the final answer that makes the rest wonder what it means about them but wisely decide to keep silent.
“So that means we're fucked!” Kid shouts from his unstable perch. Well, no-one ever considered him wise.
“If you have time to listen to our conversation, then you might try to solve our current predicament, oui?” Pierre calls at him, feet reassuringly on the ground and face turning slightly green whenever it looks like Kid might slip and fall, though not out of worry for the boy's safety.
“Go fuck yourse- wah!” Kid loses balance as one of the stones he leans onto moves and slides back into the wall. His grip loosens and he slides down, only to catch himself on a narrow, moving slab of stone. He blinks down to realize he's lying on the top of the right door as both halves swing silently open.
“Fuck yeah I did it! Beat this, fuckers! What did your freezing asses do, huh? Huh??? You'd be fucked without me!”
The background noise that is his voice is easily tuned out by the rest so they can hear the growling coming from the darkness beyond the door. The woman takes herself out of the way with a few measured steps. “Deal with them,” she orders.
“Aww yeah!” Kold jumps into the shadows where the growls soon turn into pained whimpers. Two wolves manage to run out, just to be met with the business end of the cowboy's revolver. It only takes a few shots; they don't stand a chance.
“W-would've done that quicker than him,” the last member of the group finally pipes out through chattering teeth.
“Of course you would, Larson,” Pierre rubs his arm in a half-hug.
The cowboy rolls his eyes as he watches them. “Then you should've. It's your fault you caught cold playing in the snow with Kid.”
“Pansy-ass can't stand shit!” Kid crows with laughter up above them. “Oh, hey, how'm I gonna get down?”
Larson disentangles from Pierre's arms, sneezes two times, grabs a handful of snow and hits Kid square in the face, making him fall down with a surprised yelp. “Aww yeah I still got it! Whaddaya say now, ya-” another sneeze wrecks through Larson's body and Pierre pulls him close to himself again. “Now now, let's wait until we are somewhere warmer, oui?”
Kid digs himself up from a pile of snow and wolf carcasses, a fresh bruise blooming on his right cheek. “I'm fucking gonna kill him!” he growls, the wolf blood on his clothes almost making him look intimidating. Almost.
“Save it for later,” his boss' curt tone cuts him off. “We're in. Good work.”
“Oh!” Kid lights up like a Christmas tree. A praise from the boss is a rare thing. “Yeah, well, ya know, no problem, right?” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, still grinning.
Everyone quickly goes to grab their bags, Kold carrying their boss' luggage as well. She herself is already moving toward the dark corridor.
“Miss Natla?” Pierre follows his boss through the door, pulling Larson along, with the rest of the group on their heels. “Is there any information we have beyond this point?”
The six of them enter the wide tunnel carved into the mountainside, the doors shutting behind them with resonating finality.
“Other than Qualopec's Scion Piece waiting for us up ahead?” Natla smirks. “Absolutely none.”
“Fuck yeah! We did it!” Kid whoops, both fists punching the air, and then falls on his back with a relieved sigh.
“Ya crawled like a damn worm the whole time,” Larson feels the need to add.
“So fucking what?” Kid lifts his head to look at the other man, “At least I moved, unlike fucking someone.”
“Ha, ya jealous? Though luck man, not sharing.”
“Yes, well, that is nice to know, but I'm afraid I won't be able to carry you any further,” Pierre says, a little breathless from the breakneck run, and shifts his arms where he is steadying Larson on his back.
“Aww, okay,” Larson almost pouts but slides to the ground. At least it seems he is doing better now that he isn't exposed to the harsh mountain winds.
“It's a lil' too soon for celebration,” the cowboy peers at Kid from behind Kold's enormous back where he is hiding to avoid the long and sharp projectiles as they walk. The big man is slapping the darts away with his bare hand like annoying flies while his other arm is bent in front of his body, serving as a seat for Natla. Or maybe a throne, with the way she is sitting there one leg thrown over the other.
“Shut up Cowboy, I'm beat! Let me fucking enjoy this!” Kid growls and lets his head fall back on the snow-covered ground.
Cowboy, Kold and Natla finally make it to the other side of the dart trap field. Natla looks backwards at the doors, still visible in the dim light.
“We hardly began, get your act together,” she orders as her feet touch the ground and she smooths her skirt.
“You mean there will be worse shit than this fuckery?” Kid pales under his freckles, reluctantly getting off the ground. “Hah, well, bigger chance for someone to snuff it,” he doesn't even try to pretend he's not glaring at Kold.
“Careful what you wish for,” the cowboy mumbles and glances around for any more traps, hands on his guns in case more wolves appear.
Natla takes the lead. The look she is giving them is considering, internally debating whether it would be better for her peace of mind if some of them did die right here and now. But none of them pay her attention, too busy watching Kold pull one of the darts out of his side as if he's just noticed it and lazily throw it over his shoulder.
“Fucking hate that guy,” Kid shudders.
“Die you vermin! Damn sonuvabitch! Die!”
Kid is once again lying on his back, laughing so much he can hardly see over his tears. Which is a shame because he really wants to see every moment of this glorious performance.
“Filthy scum!”
Larson takes aim with his laser sight, sneezes once, takes aim again and with one precision shot guns down his second bat.
“Die you little shits!”
Cowboy aims longer, waiting for the right moment, and on a second try shoots another bat.
“You – damn – fucking –“
Pierre takes several shots in the approximate direction of the bats and his twin magnums eventually hit the targets.
“BASTARDS! DIIIIIE!” Kold screams even louder than before, fuming with fury, as three little bats circle his head and scratch his skin, avoiding all and every sweep of the man's knife.
Kid is more likely to die than the bats at this point, if only for the lack of oxygen. Honestly, right now, he wouldn't even mind.
“Help me up, help me up!” Kid screams from far below, mere moments after Kold “accidentally” pushed him off the edge. There was some deep growling heard from the pit, how fortunate Kid volunteered to check. “Seriously, what the fuck is- eep!”
More growls, panicked steps and shuffling is heard. Pierre stands several metres from the edge, this situation too familiar for comfort. But from the others' unsynchronized head-turning where they stand above the pit he judges they are yet to see anything that would be the source of Kid's panic.
“Fuck! Help!” The unmistakeable sound of Kid's twin uzis fills the air. When it stops a few seconds later the growls have only added on intensity.
“Boss! Really! It's huge and brown and smelly and wants to fucking maul me!”
There's a beat of silence, even the beast forgot to growl. The men and woman above wait for the inevitable. They don't have to wait long.
“Fuck, I think I found Kold's long lost twin...”
Whatever objection Kold wants to make, his growl, nearly identical to the ones below, isn't helping his case. He jumps down to cut anything he'll find to bits. Kid included. Especially Kid.
“He is playing a dangerous game,” Pierre notes sagely.
“And somehow makes it save his life. Wonder if he did it on purpose,” Cowboy adds as the beast's growls turn pained.
“That would be too smart for him,” even Natla feels compelled to join the conversation.
There's scuffing of boots heard from behind them and then Kid arrives, panting but only a little worse for wear. So he found another way up. Good thing they didn't do something unnecessary and went to help him. And if he's lucky, Kold's bloodthirstiness is quenched enough by the fight with the beast not to try to kill him outright. Well, if he weren't lucky, he'd have already gotten a knife in the gut years ago.
“What's the chance those fuckers killed each other?” he asks. As it turns out, he's not that lucky.
“Why the fuck did you shut the door, Frenchie?”
“I did not!” Pierre protests and eyes the lever he used to open the door moments earlier. “It seems to have happened by itself, maybe the mechanism is broken.” He tries once more and the others watch, not walking through, only to see the door closing shut after a little while again.
“It might be on purpose,” Natla lays the palm of her hand on the blocked entrance. “These places aren't meant for a leisurely stroll, or else any idiot could just waltz in.”
“Does it mean I can't go?” Larson whispers to Pierre though everyone hears him anyway.
“Of course you can,” the Frenchman assures him, “as long as I'm with you I'll make sure you don't do anything stupid.”
“Get a fucking room!” Kid shouts at them from the door and kicks the offending slab of stone. He ends up holding his foot, cursing.
Natla folds her arms and looks her henchmen over. “One will have to pull the lever and catch up with the rest. Well, who is the fastest?”
“Pierre's really fast,” Larson jumps to defend his partner's honour after the treacherous lever made his seem incompetent.
“That's too fucking bad for you but we don't fucking care!” Kid screams holding his stubbed toe, earning himself the groans of Cowboy, Kold and even Natla. Larson blinks in confusion and Pierre doesn't comment on the outrageously false assumptions, instead glares at the boy. “Well, you proved yourself quite valuable for opening doors, oui? You may try?”
“Yeah, ain't you supposed to be fast on that thing?” The cowboy adds. “You can jump over to the door if you got enough room right?”
“Fuck no, that shit's too far!” the boy clutches his skateboard where it's slung over his shoulders in fear they'll force him to try.
Kold is meanwhile trying to solve the problem by punching the door to dust, so far unsuccessful. Or maybe it's just out of boredom. Natla leaves him at it – speed or long jumps aren't Kold's forte anyway so he's out. Cowboy sighs and experimentally skips over from the door onto the lower platform halfway from the lever and then attempts the second jump. Pierre catches him in an unusual show of solidarity when the cowboy only just scratches the edge.
“Sorry, boss, don't think I'm the right man for it either,” he admits after giving a nod of thanks to his colleague.
Larson tries the jumps too, with similar results, only there's no-one willing to catch him on the other side, where he scrambles to heave himself up. Pierre runs to his rescue – or jumps more like – and pulls him to safety.
“Looks like we have a winner,” Natla quirks an eyebrow. “What about your fear of heights?”
Pierre peers down the four metres or so, turning a little green. “Oh. I guess this was not much of a height, miss Natla. Maybe.”
“He had to save his damsel in distress,” Kold laughs, giving the door another punch.
“I ain't no damsel!” Larson whirls at him and sneezes. “I'm still kinda cold,” he cuddles up to Pierre. Kold just snickers.
In the end, the door gives them little trouble. Pierre lets the others through and after Larson's sudden cry the Frenchman makes it to them in record time, only to find out Kold “accidentally” stomped on Larson's foot. No-one much comments on it because despite the means, it was probably one of the nicest things Kold ever did for any of them.
“Not the fucking darts again!” Kid wails. “Boss, we don't get paid enough for this shit!”
No-one disagrees.