Chapter 8: Killing Time

It seemed very odd to Lara that the quintessential biker bar, The Rebar, was in Fulsome, the most paranoid, controlled city in the country. The Rebar was dimly lit and spacious. A long battered bar went along the length of one wall, and an annex held billiard tables and video games. There were various chipped tables and chairs around one end, and a hardwood dance floor. Gang crests, dating back to the legendary Hell's Angels, filled the walls, along with the occasional wanted poster, license plates, and motorcycle posters. The staff all looked rough and ready, serving food and beer to the varied clientele that occupied the place.

Ben and Lara had been here since noon, in disguise and keeping their eye out for Gunny. They had snuck down off their building around 8:30, after a brief and uncomfortable sleep in the greenhouse. They had paid a street rat to go into the Four Star Hotel and get what was left of their things. Most of their stuff had little value, such as toiletries and clothes, and had been left alone, but Lara's computer had been stolen.

Luckily, she had had the forethought to upload her files and had wiped the drive clean. She did not want the mysterious 'Mr. Williams' getting her files and thus access to who she was. Their bikes were in a private garage and thankfully hadn't been touched. She and Ben were in disguise, and Lara hated it. Ben had argued that she had to look different then she had when Gunny had last seen her, and that she had to blend into the crowd at the bar.

Personally, she thought Ben had an ulterior motive in dressing her like this, either just as an excuse to ogle her or as a way to test her resolve. He still didn't totally trust her motives and a 'test' like this was not beneath him.

Whatever his motives, she was dressed to 'blend in', and had to admit that she certainly looked different. She wore a cleavage enhancing halter and a black leather mini skirt that she had reluctantly bought this morning. Her hair was down and she was wearing far too much makeup. She felt like a piece of meat, and only Ben's presence was keeping her from being ravished by the entire establishment.

The former leader of the Polecats certainly was changed. He had reluctantly removed his precious jacket and wore instead a plain studded denim vest over a ripped, sleeveless Corley T-shirt. His hair had been died blonde and slicked back with gel. The most amazing thing though was that he had actually shaved.

Lara's jaw had almost dropped when she had seen that. He must really take his vengeance seriously to make a sacrifice like that. He looked good, Lara had to admit. He had an excellent physique that his tight shirt revealed, and his bare arms were corded with muscle. His bare face emphasized his jaw, and his hair brought the blue of his eyes. Hopefully it was enough of a difference that Gunny would not recognize the couple if—when—he came to the place to meet whoever it was he was here to meet.

It seemed a bit of a long shot, coming to Fulsome to see who Gunny was meeting on the word of a dead man. What if Torque heard wrong? What if Gunny said it as misinformation and this entire thing was a trap? Lara had asked herself these question and several others several times as she and Ben sat here. In the end, though, it came down to the fact that it was their only lead.

They were seated near the back with a good view of the door, slowly nursing god-awful beer and eating their way through the bar's limited menu. Lara's back was to the wall, which meant that watching the entrance fell to her. So far, nothing. Glancing over at Ben, she saw that he was smiling.

It was small, and a little bittersweet, not his customary smirk but an actual smile. Only a biker could enjoy himself while unarmed in a city filled with people who want to kill you. "You look like your enjoying yourself far too much," She accused him.

Ben chuckled and grinned ruefully. "This place takes me back." He said her. He scratched at his scalp in irritation. "Its like I just got out of Diego, and came into the desert for the first time." He stuffed a whole potato skin into his mouth.

Too much grease. Lara shuddered silently. "Diego?"

Ben stared off into the distance, eyes full of fond memory. "San Diego." He told her. "Its on the southern end of the L.A. sprawl."

Ah. I knew that you weren't born in this desert. "Your home town?" she asked.

"No." Ben shook his head. "It was just where I was before I came here." He reached for the last potato skin but stopped and looked at Lara. She shook her head and Ben devoured it.

The man has no manners. "I see." She glanced at Ben but mainly kept her eyes on the door. "And why does this remind you of that?"

Ben trailed his finger idly around the empty plate on the table. "I was young, full of attitude." He was full of attitude then? "I had no colours. First thing I did was walk into a bar just like this and piss off the biggest Rott-wheeler you've ever seen."

Lara leaned forward, intrigued. It was easy for her to picture the scene. Ben would have been younger, less weathered. His eyes would have all the fire that they did now but none of the wisdom. She could picture his macho swagger, his pores oozing attitude. "What happened?"

Ben chuckled and grinned ruefully. "I got my ass kicked pretty bad." He scratched his scalp again. "I was way outa my league."

Lara was surprised that Ben would admit to such a thing. She raised her eye brows. "Surely there's a happy ending to this story?"

"Sure." Ben gulped down some beer. "I was too stupid to stay down, so every time the big son of a bitch knocked me over I got right back up again."

Lara had seen that same trait during the Leatherneck attack. She wasn't sure if 'stupid' was the right phrase.

"I would have killed my self if Father Torque hadn't stepped in." Ben continued. When he mentioned his mentor's name, pride and sadness crept into his voice. "Even back then he was still called Father Torque, the man was born old." Ben spent a moment lost in nostalgia, then continued. "Anyway, he was so impressed with my stubbornness he bought me a drink. He gave me a shot to join the Polecats, which I took. I failed the initiation test the first three times, but I was so damn stubborn," You still are "I kept at it until they let me in."

Lara studied Ben's face. It was good to see him relaxed. His jaw wasn't clenched and his eyes weren't squinting. It made him look younger, better. "What sort of test?" she asked. Ben looked up at her, met her gaze with his own. Even relaxed, his eyes were intense, so full of purpose. She couldn't help but be lost in those eyes.

"The Old Mine Road." His voice was absent, distracted. For an eternal moment they just looked at each other, then Ben looked away and the moment was gone. It took Lara a moment to remember to breathe. "It's where all the bikers go to break in newbies." Ben continued gruffly. "You just drive around picking fights with whoever else is there."

Lara very firmly locked her eyes on the door. She could look at anything but Ben. "Sounds charming," she forced herself to say.

Ben chuckled. "Yeah, well, it ain't Wheel of Fortune." He scratched furiously at his scalp. "You've gotta get trophies from your wins, and the one I had to get to pass the test was this one Rott Wheeler's jacket."

She smiled. "And this person took you three tries?"

"Yeah. His bike had more power than mine back then, so every time he saw me he'd just take off." Ben extended one hand away from his body in a 'flying off' gesture. "I was getting pretty pissed at eating his dust," I can imagine, "So the third time around as I got up to him I managed to stick a piece of wood into his spikes." Ben shrugged. "He flipped up and I grabbed his coat. That's when I got Betsy."

The name sounded familiar. "Betsy, your gun?"

Ben nodded.

"If he had a gun the entire time," Lara asked, "why didn't he just shoot you?"

Ben looked at her like he would a none-so-smart child. "It's part of the Code." He put an emphasis on the last word. "The Mine Road is about bike fights, not gun fights." He spoke with finality.

Lara admired his faith in his code, but still... "Well, I admire your self control. The people I tend to run into tend not to have any rules of engagement." And I've got the scars to prove it.

Ben's eyes and face went hard. "Yeah, I run into them sometimes too." Gunny. The name passed unspoken between them, and suddenly the mood was shattered. She could see the change in Ben as he remembered why he was here and the pain that the man had given him. His shoulders clenched, his jaw tightened and his eyes turned cold. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, then Ben began scratching at his dyed scalp. "I hate this damn hair dye. It itches."

Lara tried to lighten the mood. "It will wash out in the morning, or" she added with a smile, "next week, when ever you decide to bathe again."

It seemed to work. Ben relaxed, if only a bit. "Funny." He grunted. He just sat there, looking at her. Lara tried not to squirm under his scrutiny and kept her gaze on the bar. So far, no Gunny. After a while he spoke, his voice quiet. "I don't get you, Lady Grace." Believe me, its quite mutual.

"What is there not to get?" She asked coolly, still not meeting his eyes.

He scowled at her obscure answer. "You're to good for this desert."

She smiled at the compliment. From Ben, they were few and far between. "That's not saying very much." She said lightly.

He narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean." He wasn't in a mood for banter. "You should be hosting tea parties. Marrying some stuck up guy and having rugrats."

Ugh. By far her worst nightmare. "Believe me," Lara told him, giving him a cool glance. "I far prefer it here."

He frowned. "Why?" His eyes pierced into hers. "People only come to the desert when they've got no where else to go."

Lara was lost in his stare. "I'm only visiting." She could feel herself flushing. Ben just kept on staring at her. Did he know what his gaze was doing to her?

"Slumming?" His voice was a low, sexy growl.

She swallowed. "I'm not slumming now." It was a whisper, full of passion and desire. Ben eyes were smouldering.

"Who are you?" he asked. It was too much, too intense.

She couldn't do this right now. He was too ... much. Suddenly looking away, she laughed lightly. "I'm Lara."

It was a cop out and they both knew it. Ben's scowl returned with a vengeance. "Yeah," his voice was disgusted, resigned. "I guess you are."

Ben was fuming.

Damn Croft. Damn her and her deep brown eyes and her sexy British laugh. Damn her sexy figure, especially in the skimpy clothes she was wearing. Damn her and her 'I'm tougher than the rest of the world and I'm going to prove it' attitude. Most of all, damn him for getting sucked in by her.

Shortly after their conversation, Lara had ducked out to go to the can, leaving Ben fuming at the table. He'd spent too much time drooling over Lara and tripping down memory lane. He was here in this bar for a reason, actually for fifteen reasons: Torque, Jackson, and the rest of the Polecats. He had a job to do. It was more than just revenge, although that was part of it too. The Polecats were known in the desert for being bad asses. It was who they were. As it was, the gang he had fought and bled for was going to go down as 'the guys wiped out by the Leathernecks'. That wasn't how Ben wanted his boys remembered.

As their gang leader, he was responsible for them, and as the only survivor he was responsible for their memory. Even after almost all of them were wiped out, the Polecats still managed to kick the asses of their enemies.

Yeah, that was a good way to go down. It was a good legacy to pass on. It was all Ben had left to give to his boys, and it was the only way he could be loyal to the memory of Father Torque. Still, with all these dark thoughts and purposes, Ben had to admit that hanging out with Lara Croft was nice. She was beautiful, smart, funny when she wanted to be, and tough—though not as tough as she thought she was. Just sitting back in a bar with a woman, tossing back a few brews, chewing the shit and telling tall tales, it felt good. Ben hadn't done anything like that, or found any one he wanted to do it with, for a long time.

Flo didn't count.

By enjoying himself with Lara while he was planning vengeance for his gang, was he being disloyal to their memory? He still didn't know. She still wasn't being straight with him. She was more than a reporter, that was pretty obvious. She had told him at the Kickstand about running around in ancient tombs, hunting for Big Foot, and breaking into buildings. If he had never met her, just heard the stories, he would blown them off as pure bull shit. After seeing her in action ... well, maybe some of it was true but it still didn't answer any of Ben's questions. She didn't need the cash, that was for sure.

Considering the rag she was writing for, she wasn't doing it to get her name in lights. He'd seen her face while fighting in the Horny Bull, as well as after she had made that impossible leap yesterday: she enjoyed it. She got off on the thrill and excitement of it all.

He was sure that was why she was here, not because of him. She had blown into his life for the thrill of it, and odds were that she would blow out of it again when the novelty of hanging out with a biker wore off. As stupid as it was, it hurt, knowing that she was just hanging around him for the kicks. You can tell her off, make her hit the road. As he thought that, he saw her walking back towards him, with her long legs in that mini skirt, and her I-can't-believe-they're-real cleavage bulging out of her leather top. She may be crazy, but damn she's gorgeous. Maybe he'd let her stick around for a bit longer. Even as he thought it, he knew he was acting like a jerk.