Next up... Nazis?

'Smack!' A sharp, stinging pain on her chin made Lara come to.

“Come now, Fraulein, it's high time you awoke,” A man spoke to her, in German.

Opening her eyes, the first thing Lara did was to try to get a grasp of the situation she was in. She was still in the chamber, or one absolutely identical to it, except for the absence of the Wayfarer Stone and the crates. Also, she was now tied to the wall on one side of the chamber, her wrists tied with rope that in turn were secured to some handy and frustratingly sturdy iron rings. And in front of her stood a blonde chap dressed up in the black uniform of an SS-officer, complete with a cruel smile.

“You can understand me, yes?” The SS-man carried on, slapping the glove clutched in his right hand against the naked palm of his left.

“Or perhaps I should speak to you in Italian...” Tucking the glove into his belt, the man accepted one of Lara's pistols – because of course she'd been disarmed – as one of his cronies offered it to him. There were about a dozen of them there, all dressed like him but with Stahlhelms instead of an officer's cap. Great, so while she was out someone had nicked everything in there, and then a bunch of Neo-Nazis had shown up. Although it must have taken days to empty the chamber...

“A Beretta, although not a model I'm familiar with,” The man's cruel smile lingered as he examined Lara's gun, “Mussolini makes sure that his agents get state-of-the-art equipment, I take it.”

“Mussolini?” Lara couldn't help but raise one eyebrow. Not only were the stranger and his sidekicks Neo-Nazis, but they were completely loony too. Even by Nazi standards.

“Ah, you're British,” If anything, the man's smile got nastier as he identified Lara's accent and switched seamlessly from German to English, “A nation of shopkeepers and sodomites. Of course you would try to steal that which by right belongs to the Third Reich!”

“Now look here, Fritz,” Loony or not, Lara wasn't going to let the stranger get away with badmouthing Britain, “Last time I checked, Iceland isn't part of Germany.”

“Nevertheless, they are still proud members of the Aryan race,” Whoever he was, the man had an undeniable talent for looking haughty, “Not the descendants of Saxons who allowed their pure blood to be sullied through miscegenation with Celts!”

“Sorry we can't all be tall, blonde übermenschen like your beloved Führer, you pompous tit,” Lara had made up her mind that she wasn't having any of this. At the same time, she started trying to wiggle her right wrist out of its bonds in as subtle a manner as possible, “Oh wait, he's a pudgy, brown-haired shortarse! Anyway, at least he's got one of his balls still attached...”

“That is nothing but a filthy lie spread by Judeo-Masonic Bolsheviks and their Engländer lapdogs!” The man's face flared red before he visibly restrained himself, taking a deep breath before continuing in a much calmer voice, “You will tell us what you've done with the Wayfarer Stone, or else...”

“You'll subject me to a detailed tour of Kraftwerk's entire discography?”

“What?” For a second or two, the head Nazi looked genuinely confused, “No, we'll you.”

“In fact, I believe I shall set things off by shooting you through the spleen with your own pistol, you insolent cow...” Alright, so maybe pissing off the delusional Nazi with a gun in his hand might not have been the best course of action, Lara thought as she got ready to slip her right hand out of the noose and kick the nutter's right hand with one boot. Of course, she'd have to snatch the gun out of the air, then shoot the three chaps to her left, then the seven to her right and closer to the staircase. All in all, it should be doable.