Disclaimer: I don't own The Mummy or The Mummy Returns (except on DVD, love both movies) nor do I make any money off of this story.
Bad Author Notes: Story takes place after the Return of the Mummy
New Definition of Pain
By Lady FoxFire
Feb 24, 2002
"Now here we have a rare desert flower!" A man shouted to the crowd assembled in front as he drags a young girl with long black hair onto the stage. She looks wide-eyed at the crowd staring at her, too shocked by what was happening to her to fight the man.
The man grabbed a hold of her tunic and with a quick tug, the seams ripped and the man was able to expose her breasts to the crowd. With a squeal, she quickly tries to cover herself only to be stopped as the slave driver held her arms away from her breasts
"A fine prize, my friends! See her nice firm breasts." He states before releasing her arms. "And wide hips for birthing many fine sons." He explains to the crowd as he roughly grabs her hips.
A whimper of pain escapes from her lips from the man's rough handling of her. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she searched the audience for anyone to save her from this nightmare.
Most ignored the auctioneer as he exclaimed the virtues of this young desert flower, however, a few members of the audience did show interest.
"How are her teeth?" A rough male voice called from the audience.
"Can she work?" A nasally voice shouted from the front of the crowd.
An oily grin appeared on the auctioneer face as he translated their questions to money. "Come, my friends. Come and examine this rarest of treasure." He called out to them in a voice that felt slimy to all who heard it.
The dark haired girl tried to back away from the men as they climbed onto the stage, but was stopped by the man selling her. She stared at the men wide-eyed as they cruelly grasped her arms and examined her hands. One man even pried open her mouth and looked at her teeth, as if she were a horse he was thinking of buying. After a few minutes examining the poor girl they were satisfied and left the stage.
The slave driver rubbed his hands together and grinned greedily. "Now, let's start the bidding at two hundred. Do with have any bidders?"
"Here!" A hand shot up into the air.
"Two fifty!" Another man bid.
"Three hundred!" Yet a third voice called out.
After intense but brief bidding war the young girl was quickly sold for the sum of six hundred and fifty. The girl quaked in fear as her new master lumbered onto the stage to claim his prize. The crowd ignored the girl's pitiful screams of terror, as the man grabbed her roughly and dragged her away.
The crowd cared nothing for the young girl's fate; they were waiting for the real attraction of this auction. As if by the will of the crowd, two slave drivers appeared on stage dragging the battered and bruised body of a male toward a set of poles on the stage.
They quickly stretched the new slave's arms above his head and tied them to the post, his weight supported only by his wrists as the ropes cut into him. One of the slavers pulled out a wicked looking knife, and with a few quick slashes the slave's tattooed chest was laid bare as the rags that were once his robes floated to the ground. His head hung down towards his chest in exhaustion as his captors walked away from him laughing.
The crowd murmurs among itself with glee as they study the new slave. Under the cover of dirt and dried blood, they could see the lean, taunt muscles of a warrior. His body bore a number of scars won from battles, and intricate tattoos proclaiming, to all that could read them, his heroic deeds.
The auctioneer's grin grew as he saw the crowd's interest rise at the new slave. "Here we have a true rarity, a Med-jai warrior." He said as he grabbed a handful of the man's long black hair and pulled his head up so that the audience could gaze upon the battered and bruised face of such a feared fighter.
The warrior looked out upon the crowd through one eye, his other one was swollen shut with a horrible purple bruise tinged with green and sickly yellow surrounding it, his split lips curled back in disgust at those in front of him. A mixed of dried blood and mud was caught in the stubble of his cheeks and goatee.
The slave began to say something when an angry voice shouted from the crowd. "Ardeth Bay!! That's Ardeth Bay!!" The crowd erupted into noise as the name of the Med-Jai leader spread like wildfire through the crowd.
The auctioneer released Ardeth's hair in shock at hearing the name. Taking a step back in fear, he waited for his death to come from his prisoner. He swallowed nervously as he eyed his Med-Jai prisoner, with quick glance at the audience then back to the warrior and the ropes holding him.
Wiping the nervous sweat from his face, the slave driver called out to the audience, "We will begin the bidding at five hundred." A gasp could be heard from the crowd, never had the initial asking bid been so high. "Do I have any takers?" The slaver asked nervously.
"Here!" A voice called from near the stage.
"Five fifty." Another voice called soon after the first.
"Six."
"Six fifty!"
A fierce and vicious bidding war raged over the fate of the Med-jai as he watched helplessly from the stage. The slaver encourage them to bid higher and higher, to not miss the once-in-a-lifetime chance to get their hands on a Med-jai.
Bidders began to drop out as the amount spiraled higher and higher. Soon only two bidders are left. "Eighteen hundred." Squat oily man with greasy rolls of flesh under his chin, beady eyes and a mouth full of missing and rotting teeth called out as he grinned evilly at Ardeth.
"Twenty." Replied a tall trim man with steel gray hair and a blade at his side. He stood ramrod straight. His gray eyes never once moved from the Med-jai as Ardeth hung helpless before the crowd.
Twenty two." The oily man called out with glee.
Everyone's eyes turned to the old man. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he slowly closed his eyes and shook his head no. The squat oily man almost crowed with glee at the realization that he had won.
"Twenty two hundred! Going One! Going Twi.."
"Twenty four." A voice called out from the rear of the crowd. The audience turned to look at this new bidder. A trim warrior stood there, and something about him made those in the crowd nearest him edge nervously away. Dressed in grayish brown robes that would hide extra weapons perfectly in their loose folds, constant coiled tension knotted inside the approaching stranger. With his face partly covered by his turban scarf, only his icy, nearly black eyes showed. A few strands of black hair hung on his forehead, making him look even more rakish and dangerous.
"What was that?" The slaver driver as nervously as he eyed this new bidder
"Twenty four hundred." He replied in a clipped tone as he walked closer to the stage.
The oily man's eyes shot daggers at the new bidder. "Twenty six," he snarled, as he watched the way the new stranger moved and the weapons he carried.
"Twenty eight," the stranger said without hesitation, his eyes scanning the crowd for danger.
"Thirty," the first bidder said between clenched teeth as he glared at the stranger. His hands clenched and unclenched, as if he wished to stab the new bidder that was costing him so much money.
The warrior turned to the squat, oily man, his dead eyes boring a hole into the man's head. "Thirty six," he said in a slow and careful voice so that everyone could hear that no one was going to win this slave but him.
Silence filled the once noisy market. Never before had anyone or anything gone for so much. "Th… Th… Thirty six hundred…" The auctioneer stuttered with wide eyes over the amount. "Going once. Going twice. SOLD!!!"
The crowd erupted into an earth-shattering cheer at the record-breaking sale. Never before had anyone paid so much for a single slave! And never before had a Med-Jai been sold into slavery! Everyone had a different idea on the fate of the legendary desert warrior.
"Slow death at the hand…" someone said.
"Pleasure slave to a British lord…"
"Sacrifice to the old Gods!"
The slaver grinned greedily as the warrior made his way to the stage. "All sales must be paid in full before you can claim your prize." The slaver shouted out to the new owner.
The oily man continues to glare at the winner. "This isn't over," he said in a voice pitched so that only the stranger could hear him as the warrior passed by. The stranger walked by him without acknowledging either him or what he said before climbing up the stage.
The slave driver licked his lips nervously as he shrank back from this dangerous man. "That would be thirty six hundred, sir," he said nervously.
The man turned his cold dead eyes upon the slaver, as he reached into his robes and pulled out two small bags. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed them at the slave driver, who barely caught them before they spilled onto the floor. Quickly the man opened the bags and peered inside. His head immediately came up in surprise, his eyes glittering at what he found inside the bag. His head bobbed up and down as he grinned like a manic. "This should cover it very well. He's all yours, effendi. And thank you."
Ardeth's master stalked over to where the Med-jai hung by his wrists and grabbed him by the face. The man forced Ardeth to raise his head so that he could look into his master's eyes. "You will soon discover a new definition of pain, my Med-jai slave." His master purred, gazing with pride at his new slave.
Ardeth shuttered as the words hit him like a sword blow. As the last of his strength fled, his eyes rolled up in his head as darkness claimed him.