002: Part 7
by CM Towns
It was the future, did not take much to figure that out for the Mummy. Once released from his prison, VIZIER wrapped two men while the third escaped. He exited from the transport vehicle. A metal machine that he did not bother to gawk at. Instead he dealt with the driver the same as the others. The driver should have kept going rather than stop and check the racket of his cargo. Once the men were dealt with Vizier took a quick view of the sights around him. His mind collected and assigned the appropriate names to what he was seeing. Vizier was curious but far more interested in his freedom. For a split second Vizier even thought he should have kept one man alive for questioning. Vizier moved over to the body of the driver-no longer writhing but settled down in slumber. He reached down at him but before he could grip his captive a blow to the back of the head knocked Vizier out.
Vizier awoke in a forest. Confused and angry he spun around looking for the person playing tricks on him. Someone woke him, then struck him down, then moved him. Vizier did not like games, he much preferred to be the one in control of a situation. Vizier screamed out his fury at the world around. Swung his head back and forth, up and down, sniffing out who was toying with him. After a few moments Vizier decided to move on. He need to find sustenance. Vizier needed to be well fed so that next time he would not be taken down so easily.
Vizier was once high council to a Pharaoh but a higher calling guided him to a new cause. To assist SET in his goals for a darker, more chaotic world. Vizier was blessed and turned from mere man to something more. He waged battles across the Middle East facing off against Sets enemies and the worshipers of lesser Gods. He was finally done in by an unknown sorcerer who cursed him to slumber in a tomb. Now someone had brought him back. Someone was trying to use him. This greatly bothered Vizier. Almost as much as the notion he will never be able to reap proper vengeance on the mystic who bested him.
There were sounds a few yards away-loud talking. Vizier crept that direction, following the voices and laughter. He peered through the lush green and found two men seated around a fire. A camp site.
Vizier moved slow from the trees, from one side to another before stepping out. One man saw him and spat out his drink shocked. The other turned to see Vizier standing behind him. He was startled at first but then smiled. There was laughter and the men pointed and spoke. Vizier did not understand their words. One of the campers attempted to communicate by pushing Vizier with his right hand. The Mummy gripped him by the neck, twisted it all the way around and dropped him at his feet. The other camper screamed before he stumbled back trying to flee. Vizier launched on top of the second man and smashed the back of his head open with the bottom of his fist. He turned the dead man over, plunged his hand into the chest cavity to rip out the heart.
Vizier pulled the bandages down from over his mouth and took a big bite, letting the blood drip off his chin. He finished in five more bites and turned to the first victim to do the same. Finished with his meal Vizier sat himself up and began a prayer to his god Set.
“I wonder if your Set will hear you here,” said a voice from the trees.
Vizier got into position for a fight. A woman appeared. Milky white skin, alien violet eyes, diamond chin and long white hair that turned black, and dressed in all black body suit.
“Or maybe your God abandoned you after you failed him. Her. It. Whatever.”
“You speak my language,” Vizier said.
“Not quite,” she said stalking around the camp fire. “I tuned your hearing while you fed.”
“You woke me-then brought me out here,” he said.
“Those insects I hired to free you made the mistake of lifting the incantation too early. I couldn’t have you on the streets causing chaos before we had our little chat,” the mystery woman said stepping in close. She raised her right hand to him and he grabbed her wrist.
“Name yourself woman!”
She smiled and pushed her right palm into his chest, hitting him with enough kinetic force to send him into a tree. Vizier shot bandages toward her, tying her up into a mummy. Vizier spat toward the ground unimpressed.
He felt a hand slide up his back and Vizier turned quickly. “I am the Mistress,” she said to him.
Vizier snapped back. “A sorceress?”
“Yes. A rather good one too,” the Mistress replied. She walked around the fire once more, toward the closest tree and pulled out a hidden bag. She presented it to Vizier and said, “I believe this is an old favorite.”
Vizier took the bag and opened it to find a khopesh. A sickle sword just under 60 cm in length. Vizier looked over his lost treasure and stroked it.
“You seem happy to be reunited,” the Mistress said.
Vizier gave her a murderous glare. “Why did you wake me?”
“Earth has changed quite a bit. My history is bad but magic lived, then died, then only just returned. Can you imagine such a pitiful place this world was without magic?” the Mistress questioned before retrieving a beer from the dead campers.
“The old Gods gave way to the one true God. A God no one knows for certain to exist but your God-had to. Set gave you your powers and rather unique look,” she continued before taking a drink.
The Mistress went on by saying, “The world has been thrown into a state of uncertainty these last few years. Technology-machines-are more advanced. Magic, like I said, has returned. Science of the cosmos has giving Earth mutation. I think it is time for the old Gods of Earth to play again. I’m sure they are very, very angry. I think we could all use a little more wrath in our day to day lives.”
“Stop talking in riddles. What game do you play woman!?”
“None. I’m just introducing a new player to the board. You seem like…” she paused, got up, swaggered about toward him wearing a devious smile and placed her hand where Vizier’s heart would be. She finished by saying, “You seem like the kind of man who knows how to burn a city down.”
Vizier brushed her hand off. He raised his weapon to her throat.
“Oooooh, I love a man who knows how to hold his weapon,” said the Mistress.
“You want chaos?”
“Yes. I think you can be a God in this world. I know a little about your history and a lot about magic. I can help you continue your work,” Mizer explained.
“Tell me more.”
The Mistress was pleased with his curiosity. “Gladly. Let the Mistress tell you what you missed in your long slumber and what you can do to give this pathetic dirtball a much needed kick in the rear end.”