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- Back behind the tree, she used VADS to load fléchettes into both her pistols. “Not easily discouraged, don’t want to play nice,” she said to herself.
- Swinging on the pivot of her hammock, she popped out from the other side of the tree and opened fire. The brass cartridge cases tumbled far, far down to the forest floor. Blood spray from the stairway followed the cartridge cases down, and she hid behind the bole again to the sound of curses, screams, and moans.
- Bullets whizzed through airspace she’d occupied a moment before, ripping the skinlike bark off the three-meter-thick Samauma.
- She scooted out and dropped two more of the men on the stairs. This time she felt the bullets hit the tree near her feet. She drew them back, relying on the hammock to hold her up. They shot at the hammock, but the web of nylon cording couldn’t easily be cut by gunfire.
- A pair of hissing grenades—she caught a whiff of tear gas—flew past her before spinning downward.
- Not overly bright, or perhaps just overexcited.
- The Tomb Raider heard footfalls between the gunshots at the tree. The black-and-tans were rushing the platform despite her. She swung out again and cut three more down.
- A whistle sounded. “Back to the boat!” someone shouted in Spanish.
- On her next swing outward, Lara saw that it wasn’t a trick. The black-and-tans were hurrying back down the circular steps, carrying or dragging their wounded.
- The Tomb Raider could have put more bullets between the retreating pairs of shoulderblades, but there were already four dead on the staircase. The hot USP Matches went back into their holsters.
- The Lost Cult, Chapter 11
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