Interactive Entertainment
Martin Kane
A tombraider fan begins to take the game a little too seriously.


Author's note:

I actually wrote this story a few years ago (aprox between TR 3 & 4 
Croft fans.)  As such, it has perhaps slightly dated.  This is why it 
makes no mention of the two rather disappointing movies that have 
been released since. (I do have to say AJ played the role perfectly 
IMO, though bigger biceps would have been nice.)

I resisted attempting to update it, given that it was a product of 
the time and attempted to reflect the media sensation surrounding 
this most surprising of sex symbols.

Before you begin reading this, just cast your mind back to when 
Lara's dynamic proportions were plastered over all manner of 
magazines, not just the games ones.  Remember that Tombraider was 
actually a groundbreaking game, conceptually, technologically and not 
to mention in its marketing.

What inspired this story was the character who became far more than 
the simple story she inhabited.  She was the face (and Face cover-
model no less) that launched a thousand Play Stations, and even those 
who didn't know a Sega from a Nintendo still recognised her iconic 
features.

As ever, should anyone out there wish to get in contact with me, I
happily invite you to do so, via the messageboard for readers and 
writers.  I welcome any comments, suggestions or gaming tips.


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Elsie checked the video.  It was running.  The record light flashed a 
steady, reassuring pulse.

On the screen the host smiled at his guest.  She was a bimbo.  Her 
only claim to fame was her latest job, a promotional campaign for the 
best selling Tomb Raider video games.  She sat dressed in shorts and 
a tight plastic vest.  Gun holsters criss-crossed her hips and her 
hair was knotted into a long, red ponytail that hung down her back.  
It was the standard Lara Croft uniform and more instantly 
recognisable than the model herself ever would be.

She removed the mirrored circles of her sunglasses to make a show of 
truly considering her answer before finally reciting: 'I think that 
it's because she's such a strong character.  She appeals to women as 
well as men.  Men obviously like her because she's so sexy - very 
easy on the eyes - but she's also a very self-assured character.  She 
doesn't take any shit from anyone.'  She giggled, looking aside for a 
moment.  'Sorry, can I say that?'  She grinned flirtatiously at the 
host and continued.  'She's such a positive role model.'

'What about complaints about the content of the games?' the host 
asked, trying to sound impressive.  His voice was gentle yet 
authoritative.  He looked directly at her as much as possible, only 
catching the auto-cue when it was absolutely necessary.  'One 
newspaper describes it as "violent porn that is corrupting our 
children."  How would you answer that kind of criticism?'

Her eyes flicked for a second, a little surprised by the question, 
but she thought back to the prompt card that her manager had made her 
memorise.

'Despite speculation about various cheats, there is no nudity in the 
game,' she assured him.  'Obviously it's not suitable for very young 
children but that's what Teletubbies is for.  It does have a 
certificate.'

Then they showed a clip from the game.  It had been cut together as 
if it were a movie.  Action shots and atmospheric settings just like 
a trailer, various character close-ups and the suggestions of plot 
developments.  The thumping music built to a climax as the images of 
explosions and stunts increased with furious crescendo.  And through 
it all: Lara Croft - action heroine and sex symbol.

Back to the studio and the host smiled.  'Exciting looking stuff,' he 
remarked.  'Do you play the game yourself?'

'Oh, yeah, it's the best game on the market.'  Then she laughed.  'Of 
course, I'm obliged to say that.  But seriously, this latest game is 
the best one they've done yet.  The advancements in the technology 
have allowed them to be much more creative with the whole look of the 
thing.  It’s like a film almost.'

'It's been claimed that video games are the next step in 
entertainment,' the host said.  'Unlike films, you actually control 
the actions of the hero.  You affect the plot.  Also, as it's an 
interactive medium, anything that happens to the protagonist is 
directed at you.  If say, they're attacked by some monster, it's as 
if it's actually attacking you.'

He stopped and she looked confused, not quite sure if there was a 
question in there.  'Yeah,' she said a little uncertainly.  'You're 
actually participating in a game.  You only sit and watch a film.'

The host invited questions from the studio audience.  Most of them 
were the normal dumb questions that this kind of banality inevitably 
invited: 'Do people ever treat you like you actually are Lara?'

She smiled at this.  'Sometimes they like to pretend I am,' she 
answered.  'My boyfriend likes the idea that he's going out with 
Lara.'  She cursed herself inwardly as soon as she'd said this - the 
company wanted "Lara" to be single and available.

'How like her are you?' had been another question.

At this she stuck out her substantial chest and giggled again.  'In a 
couple of ways I could mention.'  It was actually a far more astute 
comment than she realised or had intended.  Though she wasn't trying 
to be incisive, her physical appearance had in fact been one the most 
significant factor in her getting this job.  'I like to think I'm a 
lot like her,' she said.  'I try to emulate her and not let people 
push me around.  I always ask myself what Lara would do in any 
difficult situation.'

Then someone asked her: 'You've said how games involve the 
participant more than, say, a film.  Wouldn't this mean that they 
have significantly more impact and influence on the people playing 
them?'

'Oh yeah,' she grinned, happily promoting, just as she was paid to.  
'It's much more intense than just watching a film.'

'Doesn't this mean that the creators of these games should show far 
more responsibility with regard to the images used and the standards 
that they’re setting?'  The model had stared blankly as the 
questioner continued.  'The majority of games on the market today 
involve the required violence of the protagonist to achieve the 
game's aims.  This effectively sets a pattern of conditioning the 
notion that the only way to progress through life or to face any kind 
of adversity is through superior physical force.'

An embarrassing pause, the model's confused expression seemed to be 
repressing annoyance at this attack.  The reply she apparently wanted 
to make was clearly not one suitable for broadcast.

'Hey, they're just games,' she said.  'You know, for entertainment - 
just for fun.'

'But they still help to reinforce behavioural patterns,' the critic 
insisted.  'They help to shape a certain frame of mind.  The more 
effective and sophisticated these games become, the greater influence 
they're going to have.  The companies producing them should 
appreciate this and acknowledge responsibility for the power they're 
wielding.'

'Thank you,' the host interrupted at the first available moment.  
'Don't forget to take your soap-box with you as you leave.'  It 
wasn't the greatest ad-lib, but then, the auto-cue operator wasn't 
the greatest wit.

Elsie switched the video off and ejected it.  She didn't think much 
of the model, just a talent-free bimbo whose only claim to being Lara 
was the size of her tits as she bounced around in costume.  The 
interview was one of the poorest features on Tomb Raider she'd seen.  
Despite this, anything on Tomb Raider qualified as worthy for 
collection.  She popped the tab on the cassette and wrote the details 
on the case before putting it onto the shelf with all the other 
snippets she had amassed.

She switched the television onto the playstation channel and loaded 
up the game.  Making herself comfortable, Elsie floated into the 
world of the Tomb Raider.  In the guise of Lara Croft she moved with 
total confidence and fluidity.  Her senses were tuned and taut, 
totally at home in this hostile environment.

Her body responded on a natural high, synopses firing quicker than 
conscious thought.  Instead they worked on an instinctual level.  Her 
fingers exerted absolute control over her alter ego.  Elsie zoned out 
of the real world, her attention consumed by the game.

When Elsie answered the front door, Detective Turner had recognised 
her immediately despite the fact that he'd never seen her before.  
What he recognised was the long red hair.  Elsie had been growing it 
for years, since the first Tomb Raider game.  She had also dyed it 
red to look like her heroine.  By the time the police got around to 
knocking on her front door, she had also taken to wearing the costume 
as often as possible.

It was a simple fancy dress really, just brown shorts and a green PVC 
vest cut tightly around her torso.  The guns were basic props but she 
didn't wear them around the house.

In the police interview room she sat, still in costume, feeling 
embarrassed and a little ridiculous.  What made it worse was the fact 
that she was also wearing the padding that transformed her own modest 
bosom into the excess of Lara's oversized breasts.  In privacy the 
costume offered her comfort and assurance but here it was wrong.  It 
made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

Detective Turner sat opposite her, just staring at her in silence.  
The other cop, Detective Hunt, just stood in the corner.  He too 
remained silent.

The room itself was as quiet and impassive as the detectives were.  A 
single table, chair either side, accounted for the only furniture.  A 
video camera in the corner of the ceiling watched them all, only a 
red pulse revealing any action behind its cold glass eye.

Elsie looked around, from one detective to the other, before settling 
on Turner.  She tried to meet his gaze but could only hold her eyes 
up a few moments as Turner bore relentlessly into her.  Eventually he 
spoke.

'In your apartment, there's a massive picture of Lara Croft,' he 
stated mechanically.  'It practically takes up the whole wall.'

'I'm a fan,' she said simply.

'Are you a lesbian?  Is that why she appeals to you?'

Elsie looked up at him, her face screwing up into a childish snarl.  
'My mother has a painting of a Great Dane, does that mean she fucks 
dogs?'

Detective Turner was unmoved by her hostility.  'It was a simple 
question.  Does the fact that I ask whether or not you're gay offend 
you?'

She was surprised by this response, not expecting to have the 
accusation of prejudice thrown at her.

'No,' she said quietly.  'It doesn't offend me.  No, I'm not a 
lesbian.'

Turner nodded at this and looked away for the first time.  He pulled 
a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.  'Elsie,' he murmured 
thoughtfully, almost to himself.  He played with a cigarette a few 
moments before hooking it into his mouth and lighting it.  'L.C. - 
that's a neat pun.  What's your real name?'

'Lara,' she answered sarcastically.

His expression instantly became stern again, his eyes burning into 
her once more.  'Don't play games with me,' he warned, his voice 
harsh.  'This is a very serious situation.'

'She held his gaze as long as she could.  It wasn't a very as long 
time.  'Susan Kette,' she answered quickly, her eyes dropping back 
down to the tabletop.

Detective Turner relaxed again at her capitulation.  His voice became 
soft and reassuring.  'When did you first get into Tomb Raider?'

Elsie had been a fan of Tomb Raider ever since she first slipped into 
that alternate universe.  Other games offered equal visceral thrills, 
stunning game-play and the illusion of total immersion into a 
substitute world but none were up to the standard of Tomb Raider.  
Also, more significantly, no other game offered the opportunity to be 
Lara Croft.

Elsie could move the pixelated figure on-screen with a grace and 
skill she'd never possessed within the real world.  As Lara she could 
perform jumps, somersaults and complex manoeuvres with ease and 
confidence.  She manipulated Lara with a conditioned instinct, as 
natural as if she were moving a part of her own body.

It was a cliché but for Elsie, Lara had been a perfect role model.  
She'd always felt clumsy and out of place.  Always the first to get 
embarrassed, always self-conscious in difficult situations.  Whenever 
confronted by any obstacle, no matter how petty, she'd find herself 
intimidated and inhibited.  On occasions where she'd had to argue 
with shop staff, they'd effortlessly dismissed her complaints, 
seemingly able to sense her discomfort and use it to their own 
advantage.

Since playing Tomb Raider she found that asking herself "what would 
Lara do in this situation?" actually helped in simple everyday 
scenarios.  It gave her the confidence to argue with random 
strangers.  By seeing the situation as Lara would, she found herself 
able to respond appropriately.  It was like having a set of 
guidelines to live your life by - a luminary to inspire and to aspire 
to.

She'd finally resolved to join a gym, something that had always 
seemed to be too much effort - too daunting.  It was a normal 
everyday activity but for her it had been a big step.  Once she'd got 
past the first, and as it transpired - highest, hurdle, it had turned 
out to be a lot easier than she'd feared.

The sense of achievement from overcoming petty obstacles was 
fantastic.  It was a sensation she had felt all too rarely in her 
life up until this point - always settling for what little life 
offered her and never striving for more.  The realisation that she 
could affect change - that she could obtain some sense of control - 
was new and exciting to her.  After months of practice and strength 
training, the first time she found herself able to perform a slow and 
controlled handstand, just like Lara, she'd been so overjoyed that 
she was on a natural high for days afterwards.

'Have you ever attended a games convention?' Detective Turner asked 
her.

'What?' she said, surprised by his sudden question.

'You know, a convention for video games,' he said patiently.  
'They're getting to be popular.  We've even had a few locally.'

'Yeah,' she said, her tone non-committal.  'I've been to a few.'

Detective Turner's tone changed to the professional again.  'Did you, 
on the twenty-fifth of February, attend the video games convention 
held in the Moore Hotel?'

Elsie feigned uncertainty.  'I dunno, when was that?' she mumbled, 
hoping to sound genuine.

'The twenty-fifth of February,' he repeated irritably.

'I mean, maybe,' she hedged.  'I've been to that one a couple of 
times, maybe I went on that specific date.  I can't remember for 
sure.'

In fact she knew specifically that she had attended - it had been her 
first.  It was also where she had first got her Lara costume.

Detective Turner leaned forward, his voice tuned like a blade.  
'These are very serious charges.  I'm not quite sure that you 
understand the situation you're in.  I would suggest that you try to 
be a little more co-operative.'

Elsie had walked over to the Tome Raider section first, hoping to get 
a chance to try out the new game.  It was easy to spot the exhibit - 
it was the one with all the crowds around it.  Mostly they were 
adolescent boys, the appeal of Lara being deliberately and 
successfully targeted at a specific audience.

A model was answering questions and playing up to the local press.  
She wasn't the official Lara Croft model of the time but dressed up 
in the costume, they all looked the same anyway.  Groups of people 
lined up to get their photo taken with "Lara" and have her sign the 
glossy print.

Elsie smiled to herself and looked at the exhibited screen-shots, 
tasters of the game to come.  The queue for the demo itself was 
incredible.  Whatever doubts she'd had about how popular the game 
was, were washed away in an instant.  The other attractions were 
looking sadly neglected in comparison.

Detective Turner shook her from her reminiscence with a frighteningly 
sharp question: 'Did you meet anybody there?'

Stuart?  How did he know...?

She quickly put the thought aside.  

'Meet anybody?' she repeated dumbly.  'What do you mean?'

'Meet,' Turner repeated testily.  'Encounter, contact, run across, 
chance upon, bump into.'

'No one really,' she lied.  'I guess I chatted to an occasional 
stranger.  They're friendly places.  Common interests and all that.'

'No one named Stuart?' he insisted.

'Maybe, I don't really recall.'

'A woman matching your description was seen talking to and then 
leaving with him.'

'A woman matching my description?' Elsie repeated sarcastically.  
'What, a young, average build, average height, red-head?  And that is 
so uncommon?'

Average height was a lie.  She was tall, something she'd always 
hated, the way it made her stand out - the lanky freak.  It was only 
recently that's she'd begun to appreciate the benefits.  As for her 
built, she'd grown up scrawny and it was only now she'd been hitting 
weights that she'd improved her build and grown properly into her 
body.  And her hair...?

'You didn’t have red hair back then,' Detective Turner hissed.  Elsie 
looked hard at him with alarmed surprise.  He smiled, still 
professional but just a hint of cruelty evident within the 
expression.  He used the revelation of knowledge like a weapon - a 
threat.  'You were honey-blonde,' he told her slowly.  'Your natural 
colour.'

The host had grabbed a mike and called for the audience's attention 
to the stage.  The Lara model bounced up besides him.  The audience 
clapped and cheered appreciatively.  'OK. We've got something special 
for you now,' the host promised.  'An exclusive demo of the new Tomb 
Raider game.  You could walk home with this today.  It's currently 
unavailable anywhere else.  Who wants to be the first to actually try 
it at home?'

The audience crowded around, attention rapt.  This was certainly a 
prize.  The game itself would be out to buy in three months but 
fanatics tend to have a problem with patience.

'Twenty lucky winners.  Do we have any volunteers?'

The crowd started leaping and waving, trying to draw attention to 
themselves.  Elsie raised her arm, happily joining in.  She was more 
sedate than most of the fans were but she was still picked with the 
first group.

Called up onto the stage, Elsie reflected for a moment on the true 
achievement here.  A short while ago, to stand up there with the 
attention of hoards of people, not to mention the local press firing 
flash-bulbs in her face, she would have been totally overwhelmed by 
it.  To be the focus of such attention would have been utterly 
impossible.  She had learnt that the best way to deal with 
embarrassment was simply not to worry about it.  It wasn't that she 
didn't feel embarrassed up there on stage, but that she could still 
be strong and in control despite it.  That sense of overcoming her 
inhibitions gave her a self-confidence that crushed any doubts and in 
so doing, reinforced her sense of empowerment.  She had learned that 
behavioural patterns can be broken or reinforced, all you really 
needed was to want it enough.

Elsie immediately guessed why she'd been chosen.  All the others were 
guys.  In fact, the crowd was almost entirely comprised of males of 
various ages.  It did their press good to have a woman in the ranks 
of fans.

Her question was so ridiculously simple that any regular Tomb Raider 
fan could have answered it.  Pleased with her prize, she held it 
aloft and posed for the press.  She noted with interest how the Lara 
model reacted to her.  Whenever one of the guys won, she'd stood 
beside them, gun poised, striking as suitable pose.  With Elsie 
however, she had appeared to be curiously reluctant.  Perhaps it was 
professional jealousy: seeing this athletic and statuesque woman, 
effortlessly cool and collected - simply exuding an aura of being 
Lara Croft without even needing the costume.  Perhaps, but then 
perhaps thinking that was just arrogance - wishful thinking on her 
part.

Elsie wandered around, seeing what else the convention had to offer.  
She was browsing through the clothes section, flicking through T-
shirts, when she had met Stuart.

Most were just normal shirts with a picture or just the logo but 
there were a few actual PVC tops, just like the one Lara wore.  She 
picked one out, amused by the idea.  It was just a green plastic vest 
but it had become a modern icon.  An ode to the power of publicity.

Then the stranger had distracted her train of thought.  'That would 
look so good on you,' he said.  A cool, slightly cocky voice.  She 
looked up, surprised.  His appearance matched his voice perfectly.  
The kind of haphazard, neatly scuffed, rough and ready look that 
simulates two minutes to get ready by spending hours in front of the 
mirror, getting each individual hair perfectly out of place.

First she had panicked, not knowing how to deal with this situation.  
Then the inevitable question was answered: Lara would be cool and 
relaxed.  She slipped into the role with confident ease.

'I dunno,' she answered.  'I don't think I could do it justice.  I 
can't fill it out quite like she does.'  She glanced obviously down 
at her chest for emphasis.

Stuart laughed gently.  He looked aside but only so that he could 
look back and catch her eyes again with a slow, eloquent gaze.  He 
held her eyes just long enough for it to be meaningful.

Then he introduced himself and went on to mention that he saw her win 
the demo.

Elsie grinned.  'Here was me thinking that you liked me and all the 
time you're just after my demo.'


He laughed, then turned more serious, telling her that he was staying 
at the hotel and had a playstation in his room: 'If you want to try 
it...'

Elsie sat in sullen silence while Detective Turner just stared at 
her, using his burrowing gaze to intimidate her.

'Stuart Mason was found dead in his hotel room,' he said, finally 
breaking the silence.  'Would you like to comment on that?'

'Tragic, I'm sure,' Elsie told him, her voice intoning sincerely but 
retaining its coldness.  'But it has nothing to do with me.'

'You've never met or ever encountered Stuart Mason?'

'Never,' she told him firmly.  She stared straight at Detective 
Turner but her mind's eye held a different image.

Because Stuart had lay there, his dead eyes staring up at her from 
the hotel bed.  It had been defensive, it really had.  She hadn't 
intended to even hurt him.  But she had hit him far harder than she'd 
meant to, unused as she was to her new strength.  She had only 
recently started hitting the gym (though she was certainly making up 
for lost time.)  She'd discover muscles she'd never even used before 
and she hadn't quite adjusted to what she was capable of.

Doubtless a lucky punch.  But it's not the kind of thing you can take 
back.

Detective Turner stared at Elsie, his eyes burrowed into hers.  She 
matched their intensity and hostility, not daring to look away first.  
Even if they stayed locked like this forever - she could not look 
away first.

Eventually she won and Turner's gaze dropped.  'OK,' he said softly.  
His tone had returned to the easygoing conversationalist.  'As this 
is obviously a moot point, let's move to something else.'

He paused, lighting another cigarette and returning his gaze to her.  
She eyed him suspiciously.  Finally he asked: 'Why did you buy a gun, 
Susan?'

'This day and age, a girl's got to be able to protect herself,' Elsie 
answered.

'Quite a dangerous hobby though.'

'I took lessons,' she told him.  'Learned how to handle it properly.  
Do you know the statistics for people who hurt or kill themselves 
accidentally, not knowing how to handle a gun properly?'

'Yes,' he assured her.  'I know.'  He didn't let her distract him.  
'Then you reported it stolen.'

'Yes.'

'Nothing else stolen with it?  Not your video or television?  
Playstation?'

'A few bits and pieces,' she said.  'Nothing of value.'

'Except the gun?' he murmured thoughtfully.  'Why didn't you bother 
to replace it?'

'I haven't got around to it yet.'

'Why did you buy a gun, Susan?'

'I told you,' Elsie said, getting annoyed again.  'For protection.'

'Defence against all the weirdoes and psychos out there?'  He took a 
long drag of the cigarette, finishing it.  He stubbed it out.  'So it 
wasn't a part of this Lara Croft fetish that you're wearing?'  He 
gestured to her clothes making her feel exposed again.  She folded 
her arms self-consciously and refused to answer him.

'Are they real?' Carl had asked her when she slid the guns out of the 
holster, striking a Lara Croft pose for his approval.

'What other conventions have you been to?' Turner asked her.  'Have 
you ever gone dressed up as Lara Croft.'

The first time had been self-defence, Elsie had told herself.  
Squeezed into a PVC vest, she had walked out of the bathroom in his 
hotel room.  Stuart had gasped at her appearance, telling her she was 
Lara.  She'd then impressed him by walking on her hands.  He had been 
astounded, awed by the size, tone and power of her muscles.  But the 
playful games had gone further and faster than she'd intended or 
anticipated.

Stuart had pushed too far, wanting more than she'd offered.  First 
had come the fear of being out of her depth.  Then the inevitable 
question that she'd conditioned her mind to ask.  Lara wouldn't stand 
for any shit.  Lara wouldn't be the victim.

It had been self-defence.  He'd attacked her and she'd instinctively 
lashed out, automatically striking him with the full force of her 
unrealised strength.  Regardless of what she had done to the body 
afterwards, killing Stuart had been self-defence.  The second time - 
Carl - she couldn't make the same claim.

'Did you attend the convention at Turnfield mall on the fourteenth of 
June?' Detective Turner asked.

'No,' Elsie answered immediately.

'No?' he asked, surprised.  'You seem incredibly sure of that.  
You've been to a lot of conventions yet you can say, straight out, 
that you didn't attend this one.  You don't need to think about it at 
all?'

'No,' she said firmly.  'I didn't attend it.'

'Have you ever met a Carl Jones?' he asked her.

'No,' she repeated, just as firmly.

'Would it surprise you that Carl Jones was last seen alive leaving 
the games convention at Turnfield mall on the fourteenth of June with 
a woman dressed as Lara Croft?'

'A woman dressed as Lara Croft at a video games convention?' Elsie 
asked him sarcastically.  'Surely not.'

Carl had been instantly noticeable.  A pitiful lost soul; a fetishist 
feeding his habit, craving absolutely anything associated with Lara 
Croft.  He’d seen Elsie: a PVC vest stretched tight across a massive 
bosom; the shorts, boots and guns; red hair in a long, bunched 
ponytail.  Mirror shades covered her eyes so that he couldn't tell 
that she was actually looking straight at him as she approached.

Then this Lara clone had stopped and she smiled at him.  He had 
thought he would faint but he had somehow managed to respond to her 
sweet but totally assured and unabashed come-on.

Elsie had examined her appearance in the mirror before heading out to 
the convention.  It wasn't the first time she'd been seen in public 
dressed as Lara.  She attended other conventions dressed up as well 
as fancy-dress parties.  It was however the first time she'd replaced 
one of the plastic replicas with her real gun - the one she had 
reported stolen.  The one she could safely discard later, its serial 
numbers filed off, safe in the knowledge that it could not be traced 
back to her.

She had a moment of doubt then, a sliver of reality slicing between 
the webwork of her fantasies.  Was this madness?  Was this what it 
was like to be completely insane?  But if she were in a position to 
question her sanity, wasn't that in itself an indication of a 
rational mind?  These thoughts troubled her and distracted from the 
comfort and indulgence of being Lara.

She blinked and the reflection looking back from the mirror was Lara 
again.  Free from doubt or fear or guilt.  She knew what it was that 
she aspired to and, more importantly, how to achieve it.  The first 
time had merely set the pattern.  Now all she needed was the resolve 
to follow it through.

'Tell me about Carl, Susan,' Detective Turner hissed at her.  All 
pretence at amiability had now departed.  His switching from hard 
professional to caring humanitarian had ceased.  He was a police 
detective and a forensic psychologist.  He was a pathologist 
determined to probe into her psyche and dig out all the grizzly 
details to be bagged and tagged.

Elsie remained cold and silent.  She had had enough of these games 
and was determined to offer him nothing more.

'Died of a gunshot wound to the head,' he told her.  'A twenty-two 
slug.  What type of gun do you own, Susan?'

Elsie remained silent, just staring at him with open hostility.

'Interesting thing is the chipped teeth.  You see he put the gun in 
his mouth and the recoil sent the sighting against the teeth, lower 
front.  That means that the gun was upside-down.  Suggests it was 
self-inflicted, right?  Except it wasn’t.  The murderess has gone to 
all this trouble to cover her tracks.  All she has to do is put the 
gun in his hand.  She hasn't left prints because gloves are just a 
part of her costume.'

Elsie glanced down at her hands, the Lara Croft gloves sitting cosily 
upon them.

'But she doesn't, does she Susan?' he continued.  'Why not?  What 
happened to you?  You had everything set up, the perfect cover, but 
then you changed your mind.  Something took over, didn't it?  What 
did you do to him, Susan?  What drove you to do that to him?'

Elsie stayed silent.  Her gaze now held his effortlessly, her eyes 
blazing with barely contained spite.

They had entered Carl's apartment together and it had immediately 
felt familiar to Elsie.  The massive poster of Lara Croft with a 
large assortment of smaller pictures littered around; a stand-up 
cardboard life-size of her; a small plastic statuette; a playstation 
with custom Lara design; all the games on proud display.  She caught 
his video shelf and instantly recognised the titles on the hand-
written labels.

'Are they real?' Carl had asked when she slid the two guns out of 
their snug holsters.	

'Cheek,' she's scolded playfully.  'I'm Lara, everything about me is 
real.'  She arched her back in order to thrust her massive breasts 
out as far as possible.  It wasn't true, her Laraesque chest was the 
result of carefully placed padding.  He didn't know that however.  
Nor would he ever find out.  He wouldn't get that far.

'Let's look at the facts,' Detective Turner suggested.

Elsie just stared at him.  She wasn't playing this game anymore.  Let 
him have his say, let him go on as much as he liked.  In the long run 
it would affect nothing.

'Two men have died.  The shopping list of their wounds are 
identical,' he began.  

'Both were last seen leaving a video games convention with a Lara 
Croft look-a-like who fits your description.'

'Why don't you ask a playstation magazine for their subscribers and 
get a list of suspects?'

'Tell me Susan, does this ring any bells for you?'  Detective Turner 
began to read from a transcript: 'Tell me how beautiful I am; You're 
beautiful - you're Lara; Who am I?; You're Lara Croft.'

Elsie had taken the gun and run the muzzle over Carl's face, 
caressing his flesh with the cold metal.  He lay on his back, on his 
bed.  Elsie sat astride him - above him.  He was stripped to his 
underwear.  Elsie was still in full costume.

'I love you,' he told her.  'Lara, I love you.'

'Tell me how strong I am.  How powerful.'

He couldn't answer however because she had slid the muzzle into his 
mouth.

Elsie stared blankly at Detective Turner as he recited the transcript 
in an emotionless tone.

'Aren't you even curious as to where this came from?' he asked.  She 
made no effort to answer so he told her anyway.  'It seems that your 
friend Carl Jones was a bit of a Lara Croft fanatic.  You weren't the 
first Lara he ever took home.  Course, you're probably the only one 
he didn't have to pay.  He liked having sex with look-a-likes, liked 
to pretend they were the real thing.  He'd get them to dress up and 
everything.

'He must have thought his ship had come in with you - a woman who was 
just as into it as he was - shared fantasies.  Poor bastard didn't 
know what he was in for.

'He liked to keep a memento, relive the experience as and when he 
wanted.  That's why he set up the video camera.  He had a whole draw 
full of tapes.  We found your tape still in the camera.'

Elsie just looked at him.  He gave her a twisted grin.  'Smile, 
you're on candid camera.'

Detective turner leaned forward, boring his gaze into her.  She 
matched his intensity.

'One thing I want to know, Susan,' he hissed.  'What in hell makes 
you think that you're like Lara Croft?'

He grabbed the report and tossed it onto the table in front of her as 
if its touch repelled him.  'This?  This doesn't prove anything 
except that you're seriously fucked-up.'

Elsie remained silent, the hate all too evident within her eyes.

'Do you actually think that this makes you special?' he asked, the 
contempt and loathing pouring out of him.  'Lara's a cool character.  
She's like a female James Bond - professional and efficient.  If she 
kills it's because it's necessary, not for some sort of sick thrill.  
It's a cold act.  Not your kind of serial killer frenzy.

'And what makes it even worse is that all the wounds were post-
mortem.  All those things you did to them.  Why?  To prove to 
yourself that you were so powerful, so fucking strong?  They were 
dead bodies, hardly a massive challenge, is it?'

Detective Turner shook his head in utter disgust.  'You think that 
you're something so incredible?  You're not even a very good serial 
killer.  Body count of two?  Hardly spectacular stuff.'

Elsie just watched him, biding her time.  The inevitable question: 
"what would Lara do?" had been fixed in her head throughout the 
entire interview.  The answer was utterly devastating.

Detective Turner only glanced aside for a moment but that moment was 
all she had been waiting for.

Before he even realised she had moved, Elsie was across the desk and 
behind him.  He felt his arm being grasped as she blurred past but 
only realised the significance as it was twisted viciously around.

In the moment it took to register that something was happening, Elsie 
had him doubled over, his arm curled up behind his back, pinning him.  
She had his gun in a second.

Detective Hunt - silent and all but forgotten in the shadows - leapt 
forwards but was halted by the gun jammed into his face.  He stopped 
in an instant, putting his hands clearly in view and non-threatening.

Elsie twisted Turner's arm just a little further and a slow crack 
echoed throughout the room as she snapped the humerus.  The gruesome 
sound was instantly drowned by Turner's cry as agony erupted from his 
torso.

She let him go, turning her full attention on Hunt but it was too 
late.  The moment's distraction was all he had needed.  He grabbed 
her hand around the gun, wrestling the muzzle out of his face.  He 
brought his other hand up to grasp the cold metal.

Elsie clutched the gun with both hands, trying to pull free of him.  
It became a battle of strength and she didn't know if she could 
overpower him.  Rather than take the chance, she changed tactics and 
released the gun.

He relished his victory, but only for a moment.  The distraction as 
he pulled the gun back allowed her to reach up and grasp his skull.  
Her muscles flexed as she wrenched his head around in a sharp, 
unnatural motion.  Bones and ligament strained out of alignment; his 
neck gave with a harsh crunch.

Detective Turner looked up in horror, nursing his screaming arm.  He 
saw Elsie as she stepped towards the door.  Instead of attempting 
escape however, she threw the bolt across, locking herself in.

He tried to back away but there was nowhere to go.  She stood between 
him and the only exit.  The video camera watched the scene 
impassively.  She turned to him then, murderous intent written 
starkly across her face.

'You don't think I proved my strength?' she said to him, flexing her 
biceps.  They were underdeveloped, but only in comparison to the 
bodybuilders whose routines she rigidly followed.  In comparison to 
the normal girl in the street, they were hard and sharply peaked.  
They bulged with a murderous strength, and if he wanted proof of just 
how powerful she really was, then she was fully prepared to show him.

He'd read the reports, he knew what was coming.  He only hoped he'd 
pass out quickly.

She sat astride him and began her gruesome work.

In the time it took the police to break down the interview room door, 
Turner's precious life's blood had already spilled across the floor, 
pooling around him.  He died on route to the hospital.

The first cop through the door had seen the wounds and gagged, 
reaching for his gun.  'Don't move,' he yelled.

Elsie had already responded however - leaping back the second the 
door had burst open.

She made it to Detective Hunt's body and slid the gun out of its 
holster.  Before another threat or warning could be issued, she had 
bitten the gun and pumped a bullet out through the top of her skull.