Curse of the Buddha's Eye

Boz1310

Warning: I do not own Martin Mystery, nor do I own any of the characters with the exception of my original characters, Lewis Harper, Rhiannon Lombard, etc.

AN: Martin Mystery is a Franco-Canadian show owned by Marathon Media. It is a children's television series inspired by and loosely based on the Italian comic series, Martin Mystère by Alfredo Castelli. This show was (essentially) my childhood. I was sorely disappointed when it was cancelled so I decided to write my own stories surrounding Martin, Diana, as well as with original characters.

Without further ado,

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Past

The air was still and heavy. The land was dark-black as pitch- and restless with its dunes, rolling and churning like waves of an ocean, as if possessed by the mighty sea gods themselves. All was silent except for the faintest singing created by the desert winds as they coaxed the upper layers of sand to dance in their arms, this way and that, lolling them calmly back and forth and crooning them until they gently scattered the golden grains into the distant shadowy hollows of the night, unimaginable by the mind and untouchable by the body. As Hell on earth in the daytime, the deserts of Dunhuang were blissfully cool in the nighttime, bringing to life the insects and rodents that had inhabited the area. Said creatures would have hid themselves from the heat and lurking predators by burying themselves into the sand. Once sensing the drop in temperature, the creatures would dig out of their hiding spots and scamper to the nearest shrub where they could feed on the tender strips of leaves and twigs for nutrients and moisture and continue to hide from the night animals that preyed on them. On occasion, an unlucky desert shrew would find itself mercilessly torn away from the plant and the ground and lifted into the sky where upon enjoying the grandiose view of its landscape and home, would it find itself in the tight grasp of a pair of razor-sharp talons. The owner of these talons would be an owl who had searched the night for a meal fitting for her owlets, a pair of feisty little chicks. Meanwhile, the owlets would be waiting for their mother, thus chirping away and creating a racket, attracting the attention of another animal. Within no time at all, they would find themselves the breakfast of a larger owl or a feline. The mother owl would return with the shrew in her claws to find her nest in a sorry state, shredded away by ruthless claws with a dusting of bloodied down, the last remnants of her children. The owl would gobble up her prey with a stifled cry and then she would fly away, avoiding the moonlight and abandoning the nest forever.

Such events made up life in the desert where each organism was, in turn, predator and prey- to be eating and eaten. It was where each animal was both hiding and seeking, from other animals and sometimes from their own kind as well. The story of the shrew and the owl replayed itself that night as it would replay every night. That is, until, he arrived.

But who was he? He was man. Rather than he, it was they who emerged from the distance. Trekking midst the rising run, they were slowly engulfed by the heat of the morning and desolateness of the area, aware of the land that bore not a single footprint of man or beast. With their footprints disappearing as quickly as they were made, the winds were ever blowing the layers of sand around, reshaping the ground within minutes. The light shone around their bodies and heads. A few rays managed to escape, creating the resemblance of haloes.

They had calm, yet stern expressions on their faces and their quick pace never lessened. Accompanied with a pack mule carrying their belongings, the men walked on, their heads leveled, paying no mind to the distance they had yet to make to reach their desired destination.

They stopped only to take in water. It was difficult to retain moisture and they found themselves constantly wiping the sweat off their foreheads and coughing into the backs of their hands. One man was particularly sweaty on his nose. It was an interesting sight to see the beads of water and grease gathering at the bridge of his nose until they became heavy enough to slide down, faster and faster, until they slid right off the beak. The men were clothed in light coloured fabrics that were plain and durable for the journey. Their heads were shaven and shiny in the sunlight. Around their hands were strings of beads, which they held carefully. They wore straw slippers that they had made themselves by harvesting reeds along the banks and marshes whence they came and weaving the dried out grasses to make appropriate footwear for the journey. Their heads were bowed down in prayer and great thought. They were monks of the east and they had travelled to the west to seek out the great caves of Buddha.

It was said by their elders that a monk had ventured into these lands many years ago and had witnessed with his own eyes, one thousand golden Buddhas atop a cliff in deep meditation. Mesmerized by the sight, he carved out a hole under the praying Buddhas and dedicated himself to a lifetime of worship and meditation within the walls of the cave. Many monks followed in his footsteps and travelled to the western lands to create their own caves for meditation. They had brought materials of their own and had painted images upon images of Buddha in their chambers of prayer.

These monks were no different. They were ready to help their fellow brothers to create these caves for Buddha. They were told of the risk of bandits, armed with great swords, who would slaughter any and all, who possessed items of value. Yet, they were not worried. They had spent their lives learning and unlocking the wisdom of Buddha within themselves. They were ready to spend the rest of their lives in the same manner and finally attaining Nirvana.

They continued walking, bracing the heat and dryness of the land until they caught sight of the telltale cliffs in the distance. The crags of rock, once sharp and dangerous, were worn down and smoothed over by the wind and debris. They seemed to be touching the sky. At last, they had reached the caves. While their travelling had ended, their task had just begun. They approached the rock and began to carve, one chip after another. Squinting in concentration, they did not pay any attention to the dark figure lingering in the cave beside them, waiting for them. And they certainly did not scream- they did not have the time-when it jumped out and engulfed them in shadow.

Present

"This is nice."

"Indeed it is,"

Martin suppressed a sigh when he felt Diana's elbow prod him in the ribs. He glared at her angrily when his parents' attentions were directed elsewhere. She gave him a warning leer. It was an expression that he read as something along the lines of: "Just-for-once-Martin,-behave-like-a-normal-thirty -year-old-or-God-help-me,-I-will-Charley-Horse-you ."

Despite his sister's threats, he couldn't help his eyes widening in exasperation and boredom. After all, it was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, countless strangers were filling up the streets and Martin knew that at least three of them were bound to cause trouble of the paranormal variety. And here he was, sitting on a squeaky pleather chair, having brunch with his family.

In actuality, it wasn't the brunch that annoyed him. The food was delicious and the service had the expected excellence of a four-star restaurant. What made him clench his fists in frustration was his father's behaviour, although Martin knew the feeling was probably mutual.

As soon as they had placed their orders, Gerard Mystery had begun giving a lecture concerning the excellent essay one of his students had written about the discovery of Homo Floresiensis and its relation to the uniqueness of human lineage.

"Unlike the Australopithecus, this species possessed the behaviour and physical requirements that made them capable for speech," His father had explained to Diana, who had nodded along with a forced interested smile on her face.

"Heaven knows they aren't the only ones capable of speech." Martin had retorted quietly. That comment had earned him a questioning look from his father.

"I'm sorry, Martin. Do you have something to add?" Gerard had asked with a deprecating tone. Martin had looked down at his plate and had begun fiddling around with a piece of cantaloupe. He had refused to answer his father and after a few seconds, his father had asked again. He appeared angrier this time. "I just asked you if you have something to say. Do you, Martin?"

"No," Martin snapped, placing down his fork and wiping his hand on a napkin. Diana drank her glass of water awkwardly, feeling the urge to groan at how things were turning out. She had really hoped that her brother and father would mend their relationship at this meeting she had specifically scheduled. However, she knew she would have to try again at a later time.

"How is life at the hospital treating you?" Gerard turned to Diana with a smile. "I read the paper you have recently published regarding the current methods of treating Cushing's syndrome and I must say it is one of your best. I have even sent a few copies to my friends at John Hopkins. They have yet to comment, but I am sure the comments will be most complimentary."

"Thanks dad!" Diana exclaimed. "That's great news!"

"No problem." Gerard laughed bashfully. "I'm only doing what is expected of a professor who has read an exceptionally well written paper."

"Martin, you've never told us what your occupation is. That is, I mean, if you have an occupation." Their mother said quietly. Martin could tell she was afraid that he was unemployed and in turn would be offended if she suggested it.

Gerard coughed into a napkin, staring at his son. It had been a while since they talked about his job at the Center but Gerard would never forget Martin rescuing him from that humongous alien worm. In fact, they hadn't discussed Martin's 'occupation' since he announced that he wouldn't be going to a post-secondary education. He had sat down with his father after the graduation reception at Torrington Academy and had told him of his post-secondary plans. He explained that he would stick with being an agent at the Center and that he didn't need a degree or diploma to do so. Gerard Mystery hadn't said anything positive concerning his son's decision, but he hadn't said anything negative either. There had been a silent mutual understanding between the two of them.

Martin turned to his mother with a serious expression on his face.

"I'm in accounting." Martin said curtly, refusing to meet his mother's stare. Diana bit back a snicker. It was one of the most outrageous lies that she had ever heard from her brother. That being said, their mother seemed to buy it. Vivian Mystery nodded understandingly, but Martin noticed her eyebrows crinkle in disappointment for barely a second before resuming her encouraging expression. Relieved the lie had worked, Martin smiled back.

It was silent for a moment. It seemed that everyone had decided their plates were far more interesting than the conversation.

After a few minutes, their mother gave a cough into her napkin and turned to Diana with a smile.

"How is Phil doing?" She asked her daughter, who gave a blush. "You should have brought him along."

"Yeah, sis, how is Dr. Howser doing?" Martin asked.

"He's at home keeping an eye on Rhiannon." Diana said ignoring the reference to the 90's medical show that Martin had just made. Even though Rhiannon was over a year old, she knew that bringing her daughter along to a fancy restaurant would not have been ideal. Thankfully, her boyfriend agreed to stay at home and babysit her. It was obvious that Phil adored Rhiannon and before Diana left, she had the opportunity of watching them play chess. Well, it was more of Phil moving chess pieces and Rhiannon attempting to eat the pieces and then Phil freaking out and trying to pry the pieces out of the girl's hands with no avail. Nonetheless, it was still very cute.

"I thought this brunch would be for just the four of us. It's been a while since we had a family gathering." She explained to her family.

"That's for obvious reasons," Martin whispered into his hand and grunted when his sister kicked him under the table.

"Speaking of family, has he proposed to you yet? I would think he should have done so earlier since you two already have a child." Their mother asked enthusiastically. Diana stared at her mother, ignoring Martin's snickers. "It's alright that she's born out of wedlock- bit of a modern family never hurt anyone- but I hope you two have plans for the future."

Diana opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed her mouth quickly.

"Rhiannon isn't his child." Diana stammered. "She isn't my biological child either- she's adopted. And no, he hasn't proposed yet. We haven't talked about that sort of stuff."

"I really think he ought to." Their mother sniffed indignantly. "After all, you're such a wonderful girl. What could be keeping him from asking you?"

Suddenly, Vivian gasped loudly, her hand at her chest.

"You don't think he's cheating on you with another woman, do you dear?"

There was nothing more Martin wanted to do at that moment than to pull out his phone and record the scene before him. It was golden. It was some excellent blackmail material he could use against Diana if he needed to. Diana noticed his smirk and gave him a leer with the same message from before. Martin quickly frowned dramatically much to her annoyance.

"He's not cheating on me. We just don't think it's the right time. Stop asking me." Diana said sharply.

"Alright dear, no need to be edgy with me." Vivian Mystery said, sipping at her tea. She turned her attention to her step-son. "What about you, Martin? When are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?"

Martin fought the urge to roll his eyes. He loved his mother very much, but goodness, she was so annoying sometimes.

"I don't have a girlfriend." He said.

"Do you have a boyfriend then?" Their mother asked sympathetically. Gerard shot him a surprised look. Martin noticed how the attention at the table had shifted from his father to him with that one question. Diana smiled slightly waiting for her brother's response. For no reason at all, Martin had a sudden urge to lie and tell his parents he did have a boyfriend just to mess with them, but at the last second he decided against it.

"No I don't, mom." He said with a smirk. "I'm straight."

"If you'd like, I can introduce you to-"

"It's okay." Martin insisted, flushed with embarrassment.

To his relief, his U-Watch began beeping loudly. Thankfully, the portal was not located in the restaurant, but in an alleyway nearby. Diana stared at her brother and then her dish, trying to hide a look of sadness. She watched Martin's eyes glint with that revealing sparkle of excitement for adventure. She was not ready to go on another mission, but she was starting to miss and long for the experience again. The continuous beeping attracted the attention of nearby customers. Martin gave a sheepish smile and got up.

"I'd best be off." He said, taking out his wallet.

"It's alright, we've got it." Diana said before he could place the money on the table.

"Thanks, sis, I owe you one!" Martin said with a grin and ran out before anyone else could say anything.

"Where is he going in such a hurry?" Vivian asked confused. Diana and Gerard looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Diana answered her mother.

"Accounting waits for no one." Diana explained.

Lewis Harper stared at his reflection in the hand mirror. It was difficult to do so. The glass was resting on the table instead of being held upright in the hand and was covered with thin lines of fine white powder and razor blades that were dull from all the chopping. That meant that Lewis only saw small bits of his face peeking out of the snow, but that was all he needed. His face was sallow and his cheeks and eye sockets were sunken in, giving him the appearance of a skull. His eyes were bloodshot, with the veins appearing as red rivulets that reminded him of the wavy lines seen in an atlas that were supposed to be rivers. All drawn to scale, of course. It was barely recognizable. Only when he blinked his eyes did he realize the man peering into his soul was himself.

Then, he caught the image of another man in the hand mirror. He had a similar appearance. He turned around. The man gave him a yellow-toothed grin and handed him a straw. It was the colourful bendy kind that he found when rummaging through his kitchen cabinets.

"Saturday night and you're still hangin' around. Tired of living in your one-horse town." The man says quietly from behind. "You'd like to find a little hole in the ground…For awhile."

"Wow, someone's a fan of Billy Joel." Lewis murmured to the man and turned around. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain as the man's hand made contact with his butt. Lewis rolled his eyes and turned his head to glare at him.

"It takes one to know one." The man retorted.

His pupils were dilated and Lewis noted that his hands shook when he cupped the agent's hands in his own. The man's nails painfully dug into his palms. Lewis tried to pull away, but it was with no avail.

"Ow, Jack, you're hurting me." He groaned. The man lessened his grip when he heard the words and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He reeked of sweat and other bodily fluids. Lewis looked at his palms. They were pierced open in little crescent-shaped engravings with little spots of blood dotting and seeping into the lines of his hands. He stared at his Fate Line. What he wouldn't give for a palm reader. Casting the thought away, he wiped it on his jeans, wincing slightly when the cuts made contact with the denim. He turned to the man with a scorning look. "Fuck, you're strong."

"That's what you love about me, babe." Jack murmured, nipping his earlobe. Lewis bit back a moan. He felt hands moving southward, unbuttoning his trousers. He gasped when he felt a cold hand touch him.

"Not yet darling," The agent said quietly, pushing the man back. He continued speaking when he saw the man's confused stare. "I need a breather."

"Are you still tired?" Jack smirked, his eyebrows raised with a hint of arrogance.

"No, I'm not, Jack. That's exactly why I need a breather… because I'm not tired!" Lewis said sarcastically, plopping on the couch. He frowned at the man's smug smile. "And, don't be so cocky."

"You've never complained before. An excellent choice of words, by the way." Jack joked quietly, dodging a swat from Lewis. He laughed gently and directed him to the table. The lines of white were still resting there on that little hand mirror. "Enough is enough, give it a try."

"This isn't usually my kind of stuff." Lewis murmured, stalling for time.

"What is your usual stuff?"

"I don't know. Weed, Cuban cigars, that kind of stuff." Lewis answered, feeling suddenly uncomfortable for some reason. Jack scoffed and shook his head as if chiding a small child.

"You asked for a high, a real high." He said to Lewis. "You want one? Cocaine is your go-to-drug. Plus, you don't like it, you stop doing it."

"You know it's not that easy."

"One time won't hurt," He said, putting his arm around Lewis. "One line should do you just fine. I'll be right here if anything goes wrong. Take it easy."

Lewis gave one last sigh of frustration. He bent down, tipped his head, aimed with the straw, pressed down on the other nostril, and gave a sniff, moving the straw in swift upward motion. One line done. He could see more of himself now. Another sliver of his face appeared on the mirror. He coughed loudly when he felt it going up his nose at the speed of light, absorbing through the mucous membranes lining his sinuses, and shooting into his bloodstream like a bullet.

He sat down against the wall and stared at the ceiling. The high was more powerful than he expected. He took deep breaths- in through his nose, out through his mouth- in and out, in and out. He placed his hands flat alongside the wall, struggling to steady himself.

"It's nice isn't it?" a voice said. The sound was coming from beside him. Jack leaned over again and met Lewis's lips with own, giving them a loud smack.

"It's a little too nice." Lewis gasped, clutching his head. He found it ironic when a drug with the street name of "snow" could be so hot. He could feel it coursing through his veins, burning his muscles and boiling his insides. It was turning his blood into lava, a viscous and scalding goop. He clenched his hands and rubbed his wrists, staring at his veins. "Is it supposed to be burning like this?"

Jack gave him an odd look.

"Give it a second." The man reassured him. Lewis felt another kiss, lower this time. "I'm right here, sweetie. I'll be here through the whole thing."

Lewis smiled painfully at the man in his lap and stroked Jack's hair, combing through the curls with his tired fingers.

Suddenly, the world exploded. The burning ceased and it was replaced by a cool minty feeling. All he could see was light, an exhilarating amount of light. Out of the clouds, he could hear a giggle. Lewis gave sigh of pleasure and leaned his head in so that it rested on his boyfriend's head.

"Wow-that-was-something." Lewis gasped, counting the little dots on the ceiling. "I've never felt that kind of high before. It was beautiful."

` "It always will be."

"Captain Jack will get you high tonight, and take you to your special island." Jack sang, his voice ringing into the night and clearing the world of fog and dirt. "Captain Jack will get you by tonight. Just a little sniff, and you'll be smilin'."

"I'm pretty sure it's 'push'" Lewis said, blushing. "The song, that is."

"All in good time, darling."

They stayed in that position until both of their highs died down into a comfortable buzz. Lewis got up, wobbled for a few seconds and then sat down again, ignoring the gentle peals of laughter. He shot Jack a blistering glare.

"It's not funny, Jack." He said. "I could have fallen down on the edge of the table and broken my coccyx."

"I would not like that." Jack agreed with a mock solemnity. He bent down to take a snort of his own. Lewis felt a sudden pang of guilt directed towards the heavily abused bendy straw. His strange thoughts were cut off when Jack turned to him with a mischievous look.

"How is that for a breather?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Are you still tired, love?"

"You dog," Lewis said sternly. The frown changed into a warm smile when Jack displayed his best puppy-dog pout. "But no, I'm not tired anymore."

"Perfect."

Lewis heard a faint beeping sound coming from the couch, but he chose to ignore it as Jack began unbuttoning his shirt.

Martin tapped his foot impatiently. With a grumble, he rang the doorbell again. There was no answer. It had been nearly fifteen minutes and he was really tempted to pick the lock. He tried again. He could feel his ADHD kicking in.

"Lewis, are you there?" He yelled at the door.

He had received a call from Billy asking him to pick up Agent Harper and take him to the Center as well. Billy explained that the case was for the both of them and that he couldn't contact him. Billy added that there was no immediate rush and he would rather deliver the news to both of them rather than a second time to Lewis. They hadn't worked together for a month or two, each taking separate cases that required the manpower of a solo agent, but Martin had agreed to pick him up.

"Lewis!" He yelled. "Open the door!"

He was about to try again when the door opened slowly. Martin felt his eyes widen in surprise when he saw who it was- or rather who it was not. It was a man, but he was not Lewis, and he was very naked. Martin controlled his expression as he looked up.

"Hi there," Martin said awkwardly. Had he gotten the wrong address?

"Hello," The man replied nonchalantly as if greeting strangers in the nude was something he normally partook in.

"Um… I don't suppose Lewis Harper lives here?"

"He does," The man confirmed with a nod.

"Could I talk to him?" Martin asked. "It's pretty important."

"Sure, come in." The man said, opening the door wider for him. Martin stepped in. The lights were off, but he could tell it was furnished well. It was also very cramped and small. There was a certain musty smell in the room that he couldn't identify. He sat down on the edge of a nearby stool and waited anxiously. He tried to ignore the hand mirror, and razor blades resting on the coffee table.

"Sorry, what is your name again?" The man asked. Martin felt it was strange for the man to add 'again' since he never introduced himself before.

"Martin Mystery,"

"That's a cool name."

"Thanks,"

"My name is Jack Dawkins."

Martin smiled awkwardly.

"You're the artful dodger?" He was surprised that he knew that. He remembered Diana reading the book with that character in it when they were children.

"You can call me that if you want." The man smiled, sitting beside him. He was still naked.

"Do you mind if you put on a pair of shorts and a shirt?" Martin asked insistently. The man gave him a thumbs-up and left the room, leaving Martin alone.

It was moments later when Lewis entered the room. Thankfully, he was fully clothed, but he looked worse for wear. He was skinnier than before and his hair was stringy and lifeless.

"Hey Martin!" Lewis said with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

His voice was hoarse and his lips were flakey with dry and cracked skin. He wore a pair of large horn-rimmed glasses. Lewis noticed Martin's stare of horror and astonishment.

"I know, I know, I look like Andy Warhol." He said.

"Who?"

"Never mind," Lewis said curtly. "Why are you here?"

"Billy has requested that we both show up for a meeting at the Center. Apparently he had tried contacting you already, but you didn't reply."

"I was busy." Lewis said, nudging to the room where the naked man had disappeared off to. "It was all sex, drugs, and rock and roll in the last couple of hours."

Martin shook his head. He did not need to know that.

"Come on, let's go." Martin said, summoning a portal with his U-Watch. "Billy is expecting us."

"Who is…?" The naked man, now clothed, came out of the room with a confused expression on his face.

"Our manager," Lewis said. It wasn't a lie since Billy was their manager. Jack didn't know what he was a manager of, but simply that he was their boss.

"What for?"

"Accounting," Martin said suddenly. Lewis played along.

"We're off to do tax returns." Lewis said, chastely kissing his boyfriend on the lips. "Don't wait up for me."

The artful dodger shrugged and disappeared again into the bedroom.

"Let's go." Martin said, opening the refrigerator. Instead of food and beverages, there was a blue web-like portal waiting for them. They quickly slipped into the fridge, and felt a rush as they were transported by a wave of energy that took them to the Center, remembering to close the door behind them.

Words: 4,800+

AN: I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. This is a sequel from Attack of the Fleshmongers. I was inspired by the Mogao Caves of China especially by the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas. As a Chinese Canadian (yay pointless information!), I wanted to dig deep into the history of olden China and write a story about it. This chapter is an introductory one, and you will get more of the action stuff in the later chapters as usual.

Also, the song quoted by Jack in this chapter was Captain Jack by Billy Joel. I know it is about heroin dealers, but I thought cocaine suited the moment more.

Please feel free to favourite, follow, review or whatever if you want more chapters. Any questions or suggestions can go straight to my PM box and I will make sure to answer them as quickly as possible.

Cheers,

BOZ1310- August 12th, 2013