Chapter 5 - Five

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Tomb Raider Origins: Part Five

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On-screen, Tanaka pushed Lara’s face down into a plate of sushi; Zip watched. The camera in his boss’s hairpin had fallen out by now, so his only view of the scene came from the small jewel dangling between Lara’s breasts. He could make out his boss’s creamy white cleavage and the underside of her face. Slowly at first, and then with increasing force and vigour, Lara’s generous mounds began to jiggle as Tanaka started pounding down against her upraised ass. Before long, the whole table was shuddering with the tempo of the crime boss’s hard, fast thrusts, and Lara was yelping and crying out with pleasure. She braced her hands against the tabletop and started pushing back to meet Tanaka’s slapping hips; she had to, just to avoid being crushed beneath the big man’s downward-fucking bodyweight as he hammered into her.

“Nah, this ain’t right”, Zip mumbled.

He had stopped jerking off as soon as Tanaka had started fucking Lara’s pussy. A little blow-job session was bad enough, but watching his boss get raped by a bunch of Japanese Yakuza? That was where Zip drew the line.

“Fuck this shit, man!”, he rose to his feet.

Zipping up his combats he scanned the interior of the van for weapons. It didn’t take him long. The place was practically an armoury. Shotguns stowed in a rack on the far wall – he grabbed one: pump action, riot issue,12 gauge, eight round capacity – nice. Shells: double aught buckshot; five boxes, on a shelf below the rack. He fed them into the shotgun’s loading chamber, then *cha-chak*, cocked it, and swung it around onto his back, using the strap to secure it around his torso. He stuffed extra ammo in his pockets - enough shells to take down a small army - then grabbed a Desert Eagle handgun off the passenger seat - .45 calibre, Lara’s favourite - and strapped on a bullet proof vest. He found some extra clips for the pistol, shrugged into a leather jacket, and - on a hunch - picked up the flick-knife that he saw laying on the van’s dash, stuck it in his pocket – last resort.

“Motherfuckers are goin’ down”.

Zip took one last look at the screen: the scene in the restaurant was deteriorating fast. Lara was down on her hands and knees now, in the middle of the table. Her dress had been torn to shreds by the Yakuza; she was practically naked as Tanaka fucked her pussy hard from behind, and two other men shoved their dicks in her face, smearing their cock heads all over Lara’s cheeks and forcing her to suck on them. A third man, the ‘unpleasant old man’ that had groped Lara’s ass earlier in the evening, was laying on his back beneath her, sucking on Lara’s large, pendulous tits, flicking his tongue back and forth over her engorged nipples, slathering them with his saliva. Zip could also see the man’s lower body bucking beneath Lara’s hips, so he guessed that he was fucking her pussy – which meant that Tanaka was probably working his boss’s asshole now, double-teaming the tomb raider as she took two cocks into her mouth simultaneously.

“Hang in there, Lara”, Zip’s fingernails bit into his palms, drawing blood, “I’m comin’ for you”.



Outside the van, Zip tiptoed down the shadowy back alley that lead to the Green Dragon’s goods and services entrance. Trash-cans flickered beneath faulty streetlights, food scraps and garbage overflowing. Rats squealed and scattered as Zip approached. He hunched low, listening for bad guys. Nothing. He was just about to toe open the back door and slip inside, when two big men wearing black suits and sunglasses walked out, coming the other way. Zip wheeled back - behind the opening door - and flattened himself against the wall. The two men strolled out casually, lighting up cigarettes and stretching.

“Shit man”, one of them yawned, “can you believe that Boss Tanaka? Throwing a gang bang on that waitress just ‘cause she got herself in the wrong place at the wrong time...”

The other man cricked his neck, spoke around a bobbing cigarette: “Yeah, that’s a damn shame, Lenny. Guys like him just give gangsters a bad name. And after you was so nice and gentleman-like to the broad before she went in – what must she think of us now”.

It was the two men from earlier, Zip realised: the guards who had groped Lara and spanked her ass while conducting a body search.

“Hey, fuck you, Karl”, the first man grumbled. “Bitch was askin’ for it if you ask my ass – wearing that dress all up around her ears like that. Godamn slut”.

The door swung closed, revealing Zip pressed up against the wall behind it.

“Hey, what the fuck?!”, Lenny barked. He jammed his hand inside his jacket, going for his shoulder holster; Zip picked up a trash-can lid and slammed it into the side of his face.

“Motherfucker!”, Karl lunged at Zip as Lenny twisted sideways and crumpled to the floor, out cold. The big man tackled Zip into the alley wall, and grappled with him; Zip kneed him in the balls, swung the shotgun out from under his jacket, and bludgeoned the man unconscious with the weapon’s carbon fibre stock. Karl’s KO’ed body fell forwards, taking Zip with it down to the floor.

“Unnphh!”, Zip got squashed.

He fought against the dead weight, finally heaving it off his chest. He rolled over, struggled up to his knees, gasping for breath. Blood from the man’s nose had sprayed out all over Zip’s grey muscle vest. He shook his head, refocusing.

“Come on man, get a hold of yourself”

He pushed himself up from the floor, stumbled towards the door, dizzy – already.



Inside, Zip staggered down the same wood-panelled corridor that Lara had traversed about an hour ago, carrying her tray of sushi. On his right, he saw the changing room his boss had used, and peaked in. The petite asian waitress was still lying on the floor, unconscious, tied up, stripped to her underwear – nice ass.

Zip tore his eyes away, and kept going. He reached the swinging double doors that led to the club’s main dance floor. Behind them, the room was still packed; but the evening was winding down now: a schmaltzy jazz quartet had taken over from the jive band on-stage, and the lights had been dimmed – glitter balls sparkled. Cigar smoke clogged the air, strafed by baby spotlights. Couples slow-danced and ground to tenor sax. Zip zipped up his jacket, and walked in.

No one stopped him as he skirted around the edge of the room, keeping to the shadows. No one raised an eyebrow at the sex grunts and high-pitched squeals - “ah, ahh, aahh!!” - coming from the room at the top of the stairs. No one even seemed to notice Zip – until he started climbing up the staircase.

“S’up, bro?”, a big black guy in a dapper tux, probably one of the security team, came down to meet Zip on the first landing, “not enjoyin’ the party?”.

Zip hoped the shotgun bulge below his jacket wasn’t too obvious. He bit back a stutter, leaned in, talked low: “Listen up, bro, I think we both know that there’s some bad shit goin’ on in that room up there...” - the guard eyeballed him, unimpressed - “...and I’m here to tell you that now might be a damn good time for you and your buddies to take a smoke break, if you catch my drift”.

The big man looked Zip over. He loomed: 6’ 4” easy, not budging an inch.

“Nah, man”, he said after a moment, popping his knuckles “I think now might be a good time for you to get your ass outta here before me and my buddies tear you a new...”

“Easy bro”, Zip flashed his driver’s licence – prayed the club was dark enough. “Special Agent Edwards, Interpol”, he dropped his voice an octave, gave it some juice. “I’m here scouting a raid. There’s six unmarked cars outside, full of agents, all waiting on my signal. That’s twenty-eight officers, shitbird, plus a SWAT team inbound. We know all about Boss Tanaka’s big deal that’s supposed to be goin’ down here tonight, we’ve had this place under surveillance for three weeks now”. The big man tensed up; Zip saw an opening, pressed him:

“Now I know most of you guys are just hired muscle – here for a quick security job, right? and maybe get yourself some of that fine yellow pussy on the side, am I right?”. The man licked his lips. He was nervous, fidgeting. Zip kept pushing:

“So if I was you, and I wanted to save myself and my buddies from a whole world of shit, then I would vacate the fuckin’ premises A S A fuckin’ P, bro, ‘cause in about five minutes this place is gonna be cop fuckin’ city. I’m talking the raid of the fuckin’ decade, bro – I’m talkin’ tear gas, rubber bullets, batons, live rounds. Some seriously gangster-unfriendly shit”.

The guard’s eyes darted around the club, seeing Zip’s impending ‘raid’ take place in his imagination. His forehead popped sweat.

“Uh... y-yeah“, his bravado folded, “thanks for the tip, bro”. He turned and started back up the staircase. “J-just gimme like two minutes to tell my buddies, a-and we’ll have this whole place cleaned out before this thing goes down, okay?”.

“Move it, fat ass”, Zip faked impatience, covering his nerves. “You got one-hundred-and-twenty seconds exactly, then I’m making the call”.

The guard gulped, took the stairs two at a time.



Zip watched word circulate around the room. He met gangster glares, stared them down with cop eyes. Everyone seemed to buy it – two minutes later the club was goon-free. The screen doors stood unguarded; Zip had a clear route up to the top of the staircase. He strode up, sex noises filtering louder and louder through the paper screens as he approached: Lara’s high-pitched yelps - muffled, cock-choked - and Tanaka’s guttural grunts - harsh, insulting barks - against a background of jeering Yakuza.

Zip took a deep breath, and inched open the doors. Peering in he saw a scene straight out of a hardcore porn film. Lara was up on top of the table, riding the old man who had groped her earlier in the evening, while Tanaka knelt behind her, his huge, blunt-fingered hands encircling his slim waist, his thick, foot-long cock reaming her asshole with hard, deep thrusts. The crime boss’s flab rolls rippled wildly around his belly as his hips slammed into Lara’s buttocks, causing her ass-flesh to jiggle almost as energetically - although somewhat more attractively - while the man beneath her fucked her pussy in unison, keeping time with Tanaka’s thrusts. Between them they stretched out both of Lara’s tight sex-holes almost beyond their capacity with twenty thick inches of pistoning Japanese cock meat every half-second.

A total of five more men surrounded the tomb raider’s bouncing form as she was vigourously double-fucked by Tanaka and the old man: three men stood in a cluster in front of her, shoving their dicks in Lara’s face, forcing her to suck them off and jerk them; while a further two men stood behind her, flanking Tanaka. Each of these two had generous handfuls of Lara’s glossy brunette hair wrapped around their dicks, and were using the tomb raider’s rich chestnut maine as a masturbatory aid, rubbing it up and down their shafts. As Zip watched, the pace of the thrusts of one of the men fucking Lara’s mouth started to increase. Pretty soon he was plumbing her oesophagus with full-length strokes, making her gag. His companions, sensing what was coming, backed off momentarily and took to slapping their cockheads on the English woman’s forehead. They rolled their drooling dick-tips all over Lara’s cheeks, then snuggled them up underneath her nose and forced her to sniff them. The mouth-fucker grabbed the back of Lara’s head, tensed up and thrust his hips forward. Stuffing his cock all the way down her throat he shuddered, groaned, and exploded deep inside her working gullet.

“Mmmnnphh?!”, Lara’s eyes went wide, “ Gluk! Glurk! *cough*, Gluk!, *cough* *cough* Glurck!?”. She tried to swallow the Yakuza’s creamy load as it spewed torrent-like down her throat, but there was just too much of it. The salty spunk backed up in her windpipe, flooded her sinuses and spurted out through Lara’s nostrils.

“Gllunmpphh!! *cough, cough!* Blalllk!”, she sneezed white liquid.

“Yeahhh...”, the Yakuza groaned, pumping Lara’s overflowing mouth, “you take it! You take it and you like it, you fuck gaijin whore!”.

Still cumming hard, he pulled back and started jerking his cock off directly in front of Lara’s face. He grunted and shot another two or three healthy spurts of creamy jizz all over Lara’s flushed features. Tilting her head first one way then the other, the Yakuza coated every square inch of Lara’s flawless skin with thickly splattering spurts of steaming-hot ball juice, painting the tomb raider's rich-girl visage until it dripped with gooey, smelly cum. Finally, his orgasm subsiding, the Yakuza dangled his sated cock shaft over Lara’s wide-open mouth and, wringing it out, squeezed a final bottom-of-the-barrel, extra-gelatinous spunk globule directly onto her tongue – then forced her to swallow it.

Grinning, post-coital dizzy, he leered down at her: “You fuck like that...”, and smeared his still-hard cock head all around Lara’s lips and down over her chin, “...you fuck white bitch?”.

“*cough, cough*”, Lara struggled not to gag, “Y-yes!, *cough*”. Ejaculate bubbled as she spoke. “I-I love the taste... of your... d-delicious cum, master...”.

The sight of Lara’s beautiful, cum-spattered face, tilted back, her big brown eyes staring up wide open - submissive, eager to please - proved too much for the other two Yakuza. Shuffling forward, one of them ordered Lara to open her mouth and stick her tongue out. Moaning, she obeyed, and less than a second later the two men crammed their cocks into her mouth side-by-side and shot their loads simultaneously. They forced Lara to jerk their shafts off as they flooded her mouth with gooey white spunk – strings and searing strings of the stuff. Their gouting seed filled up Lara’s small oral cavity in a matter of seconds, then overflowed over her plump lower lip. Despite her best attempts to swallow the thickly spewing liquid, it gushed down over Lara’s chin, dribbled the length of her neck and drooled down onto her full breasts in long syrupy strand. Finally, the other two men standing behind Lara tensed up and sprayed her hair. Jerking themselves off on Lara’s silky smooth tresses, they pumped their hot gelatinous ball juice all over the English woman’s luxurious brown maine. Heavy white spurts gouted from their piss slits with such fire-hose-like force that Lara felt them slap wetly against her scalp – scalding, splattering, cooling, then sliding down over the smooth white nape of her neck and her flawless alabaster shoulder blades like teaspoonfuls of tepid porridge.

“Motherfuckers are throwin’ a goddamn bukkake party,” Zip muttered, under his breath, “and they got Lara as their guest of honour”.

He shook his head. “Goddamn Japs. I should’a known”.

Another five men quickly replaced the five that had just cum on Lara’s face and took up positions around her spunk-drenched body, forcing the tomb raider to suck their cocks and jerk them off while Tanaka and the old man continued double-teaming her ass and pussy. Zip braced himself. He sighted a cover spot - the opposite end of the table to where the action was taking place - flipped off his shotgun’s safety, took a deep breath, and dived.

“What the...”, shouts rang out among the Yakuza bosses; Zip shoulder-rolled into position. He braced his back against a table-leg, heard the unmistakable sound of a dozen guns being unholstered and cocked, then wheeled out into the open. The shotgun’s butt slammed into his shoulder; the barrel boomed; four Yakuza caught with their pants down were literally knocked off their feet by a spray of double-aught buckshot.

Wild yells. Frenzied dives for non-existent cover. *Cha-chak*, Zip pumped, aimed, shouldered, leaned into it, fired. *BOOM*, one would-be rapist waiting in the wings jerking off his cock caught a faceful of lead pellets. He spun off his feet and slammed into the side wall, glistening crimson trailing all the way down to the floor as he slid. More yells; Jap gibberish; Tanaka furious. Zip dodged return fire, his cover too good to be in any real trouble. He ducked under the table and saw a half dozen pairs of black slacks and leather loafers at the far end. Pulling out Lara’s .45, Zip aimed and fired and aimed and fired, aimed, fired, aimed, fired. Direct hits on all six shots – half a dozen Yakuza bosses’ legs buckled, sending men sprawling to the floor, writhing in agony – kneecaps blown off. The few men still left standing beat a hasty retreat, crashing out through the screen doors and stumbling down the staircase and out of the restaurant’s front entrance.

Zip scanned the room: corpses, half-dead men writhing, limbs blown-off, walls slick with blood, viscera dripping. Red-drenched sashimi appetisers. He broke cover and peaked over the top of the table – and a heavy metal tray slammed into the side of his head, nearly knocking him cold. Looking up through eyes bleary with pain he saw a man in a black suit - the young boss from earlier with close-cropped blond hair and knife-scars on both cheeks - standing over him, clutching a silver platter in one hand. Zip raised his. 45. but the man kicked it out of his hand; he swung up his shotgun but he grabbed the barrel and pushed it down towards Zip’s face. The gun shook, the man grinned, his finger sliding down to pull the trigger. Last resort: Zip slipped his hand into his coat pocket and fumbled out the flick-knife. *Snick*, the blade came up fast and shiny; Zip stabbed it into the Yakuza’s ear. The man screamed, clutched the side of his head; blood gouted out between his fingers, spritzing like a screwed-down garden-hose all over the wall. He staggered back, animal noises interspersed with ragged breaths coming from his mouth – his face twisted, a lurid mask of pain and anger. Zip picked up his shotgun and blew the man’s balls off.

Dizzy, anticipating nightmares for years to come, the tech head rose to his feet. He saw Tanaka at the head of the table. Lara’s neck looked childlike grasped in the big man’s meaty hand. His huge fingers were pressing down on her throat with only slightly less force than it would take to crush her trachea.

“Impressive”, he nodded, surveying the carnage. “To have slain so many, without suffering injury yourself. Impressive indeed, my boy”.

Zip levelled his shotgun at Tanaka’s head.. “I ain’t your boy, you o-bese Jap motherfucker”.

“Careful”, the crime lord’s fingers tightened around Lara’s neck; her eyes rolled back, flickering white. “One wrong move now, my boy, and I shall snap this bitch’s spine faster than you can pull that trigger. I assume that she is the cause of your rather misguided invasion of my restaurant this evening?”

Zip’s jaw muscles bulged. His index finger tightened on the trigger, but he couldn’t pull it. The muzzle spray would do as much damage to Lara as it would to Tanaka – pump action shotguns weren’t exactly designed with accuracy in mind.

“Shi-it”, he lowered the barrel.

Something stopped him: Lara’s hand, inching down towards Tanaka’s groin. The crime lord’s cock was still rigidly hard. As Zip watched, she cradled its underside and started stroking her palm back and forth along its length, gradually working downwards.

“Ah”, Tanaka smiled, “you still crave attention, do you, my dear?”. He spread his legs, giving Lara access to fondle his balls. “Well, just allow me to take care of this tiresome little nig... GYYYAAAARRRGGHHHHHHH!!!”. Lara’s fist clenched. Her knuckled whitened. Sharply manicured fingernails bit into Tanaka’s fleshy testicles. Blood and spunk sprayed out all over the insides of his thighs. He collapsed to his knees, screaming horribly. Lara writhed free from his grasp, she rolled underneath the table.

Zip covered the distance to the head of table in three fast strides.

“Heads up, motherfucker”.

Tanaka looked. His jaw worked; garbled words in pidgin English and guttural Japanese emerged. Zip jammed the barrel of his shotgun in.

“Shit just got real”.

Tanaka’s head exploded in a thick spray of blood and splattering grey matter; muzzle flare lit up the stump of his spine. His huge flabby body toppled backwards and crumpled against the wall like a beached whale.

Zip blinked. His vision was red with sprayed on blood. Turning around, he found Lara collapsed underneath the table. He checked her pulse: racing fast; her skin hot to the touch. He lifted her eyelids and found her irises blown – deep black circles where the pupils should have been. Zip swung his shotgun back around his torso, then picked Lara up and carried her out of the restaurant.

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END OF MISSION ONE.