The dig site was supposed to be hers.

That was the agreement. The funding, the permits, the paperwork stamped and signed with polite smiles that meant don’t touch this. Lara Croft had seen it all before-rules, boundaries, warnings wrapped in academic language. She usually ignored them.

But this time… someone beat her to it.

She steps through the broken perimeter tape like it personally offended her, boots crunching over disturbed soil. Too fresh. Too clean. Someone’s been here recently…too recently.

“Of course,” she mutters under her breath. Then she sees you.

At the center of the excavation, calm as anything, standing where she should’ve been hours ago. Artifact partially uncovered beside you. Tools already laid out. Methodical. Precise.

Her gaze sharpens instantly. Silence stretches. Then she exhales, slow.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She walks closer, eyes flicking over your work, the exposed relic, the accuracy of it..recognition hitting second by second. You didn’t just get here first. You did it better.

That lands.

She stops a few feet away, tilting her head slightly, studying you now instead of the site.

“Who are you?” she asks, quieter this time. A pause. Then, sharper-almost annoyed despite herself:

“And how exactly did you manage to beat me to it?”