I do not own any of these characters or story plot or anything in this story. All of these belong to the writer of The Mummy Returns. I only own my character- Ms. Sara Case.
"I have a couple gifts for you…" a dark-haired woman spoke, cooing to her long-lost lover now newly reclaimed to her. She leaned against her lover, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss as he ran his fingers through her dark hair and along the smooth tanned flesh. Her teeth gleamed in a delighted smile, catching the off light from their ritual. There was adoration in her usual dark eyes, nearly black against the white highlight of her pupils. The adoration vanished as quickly as it had appeared as she snapped at two servants, clad in red, "The women."
"Yes, Ms. Nais," The servants bustled forwards, jolted with fear, and stood next to two dark bounded figures. The men were too shocked to present them, so they stood silently next to the figures until the dark-headed woman and their lord walked in their direction to examine the girls.
The creature stood amongst his followers, ignoring the gawking looks and dropped jaws, to look at his new presents. The mangled tissue twisted into something resembling a smile as he observed the first woman, bound on a slab of wood unconscious. Her brown curls scattered around her face as if a halo surrounded her, and she shook her head briefly, her eyes fluttered open as she regained consciousness. She looked about, shocked, her jaw dropping just as the others around her, "You!" She gasped at the familiarity of the creature, pure hate filling her green eyes.
The smile turned twisted, making the creature more menacing towards the audience around him, and some shuttered in fear. The brunette woman continued to glare, mumbling curses under her breath until a couple of men bound her mouth with a cloth, in hopes of silencing her before their lord became angered. The dark-haired woman, Ms. Nais, smiled to her lover wickedly, "I thought it would enjoy you to watch her burn." Beyond the small clearing in the warehouse, a fire erupted in a pit, sending a fresh wave of smoke and burning embers around it. The creature smirked as the brunet's eyes became wide, watching the fire engulf the small bits of lumber thrown in and the flames dance menacingly, as if mocking her fate.
Ms. Nais turned, pleased with his reaction, and lead the mangled man forward towards the next woman. She lay on the floor in a small heap of tangled limbs, her raven hair covering her face. He leaned down, brushing the hair away from her dark skin, gaping in shock. His jaw hung from the torn flesh and muscle until his lover placed a tanned hand on his shoulder, as if to confirm his assumption. He whispered something in Arabic, his voice low and animalistic. The dark haired woman nodded, "The Scorpion Queen."
Sara Case had never been very interested in history, taking only the mandatory general history course in high school to achieve the credit to graduate. She didn't know about the past, about different cultures from long ago all around the world- and frankly, she didn't really give a damn.
Her passion had always been to help people, not to study them and their ways. She had attended all of the universities she could, maintaining high grades and excelled to become what she had always dreamed of- a doctor. Sara had always wanted to help, felt the need to do something to cure people of their problems and diseases, and that was exactly what she intended to do.
Once she had graduated from university with her diploma in hand and the official title of medical staff, she moved to London to become a full-time doctor in hopes of making a difference in the world. She had only been staying there a couple months when she received a house-call, something she occasionally did for the wealthy of England.
She arrived at the British Museum of Natural History to treat the Curator, Mr. Hafez who had supposedly been feeling ill as of a couple days ago. It was a normal day for Sara, and she arrived full of live and ready to help.
She had walked into his office when he had gasped, staring at the woman in shock. "You," he had mumbled, under his breath, his eyes wide with glee and fear.
"Yes," Sara smiled her award winning smile, her brilliant teeth flashing in the Curator's direction, "Are you Mr. Hafez? I'm from the medical clinic to check up on you and see how you are feeling. What are you symptoms?" She walked towards his desk and placed her medical supplies bag on it, digging through it for her stethoscope. "Let's see what your lungs sound like…"
When she made a move towards his chest with the instrument, he smacked it away and stood up abruptly, making the young woman stumble back. "Ebe-Djabenusiri," He pointed towards her, and Sara looked around curiously for the owner of the name.
"Excuse me? Sir, are you feeling well? You look a bit pale," She tried to calm the old man, seating him down in his dark purple velvet chair behind the dark wood desk. He sat down, his finger still shaking at her in surprise. "Now," Sara spoke, holding out her stethoscope, "shall we try this again?"
She made another move for his chest before he coughed, turning away from her again. Sara stood up, her hands on her hips, glaring at him impatiently. "Look, if you don't want my help-" She was caught off guard when he held up a finger in her direction, signaling her to pause. He picked up his phone, and dialed a number, mumbling something in Arabic to the person on the other side.
Sara glared, finally fed up with his manners. She stuffed her stethoscope inside her medical supplies bag, smoothed out the wrinkles in her blouse, and made a sound of distaste in the Curator's direction before stomping off towards his doorway. "Why, if it ever see that short little fat man again-" In her frustration, she looked back at the short man, now off the phone and staring at her in wonder.
She flung open the door and continued walking, only stopped when she suddenly bumped into something hard as her head turned back in the direction she was going. Sara rubbed her nose and looked up, following a red cloth shirt up to the stern-looking face of an African man. His face looked bored as he gazed back down at her, his dark eyes showing little enthusiasm as he spoke, his accent out of place, "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm leaving," Sara announced, trying to step around him and carry on with her desired exist. She could imagine driving back to the clinic in a fluster at the waste of time; this would be the last time they sent her on a house-call, especially here.
A dark arm shot out in front of her, blocking her exist. Sara's gaze followed the dark skin, to the red shirt and dark, unenthusiastic eyes, "I don't think so." His voice was rich and smooth, but underneath the velvet texture of it, she could sense the danger she was in. She blinked a couple times before he grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back into the office of the Curator.
He led her to a velvet green chair in front of the dark wooden desk, and placed her in it firmly by a hand on her shoulder. She tired to squirm out of his grasp, but it tightened, keeping her in her place. Sara gave up defeated, and looked across at the bemused expression on the Curator's face, watching the scene before him. "Thank you, Lock-Nah," The elder man spoke, his hands crossed against his chest, watching Sara with hawk-like eyes. "Now, Miss…"
"Ms. Case," Sara corrected.
"Yes, Ms. Case, we have something to discuss. Something important that I think will become a shock towards you, but will become very handy towards me." He looked down at the open book in front of him, comparing the similarities of the sculpture to the woman seated behind his desk: the same dark raven hair, skin the colour of milk chocolate, small rounded nose and the dark brown eyes with a flicker of golden in them. She was a perfect replica to the ancient image- a living, breathing copy. Excellent.