Disclaimer: The characters of the Mummy don't belong to me. . .that honor
goes to Stephen Sommers. . .however, the Ferguson family does.
The Learning Curve
Prologue
It wasn't supposed to end like this. He looked around the room, shaking his head sadly. It wasn't supposed to end like this. But what else could he have expected? You employ people with low standards, and this was what you got. He stole for the thrill, and because he loved beautiful things. He stole because Robin Hood was one of his greatest heroes. He genuinely cared about people, though most would have found that difficult to believe. And it was that compassion for people which made this entire situation so unbearable for Imhotep.
That wasn't his real name, of course. It was so long since he used his real name, he forgot what it was. Something very pedestrian, he was sure. He cho__ the name of the great architect and doctor because he was also a lover of beautiful things. That Imhotep, the chief architect of Djoser, created things. Not just buildings, magnificent buildings, but he was also considered a god of medicine. That was the sort of legacy Imhotep wanted to leave.
In addition, Imhotep's mother was Egyptian. It was only right that he take the name of a great Egyptian for his new life. It was a connection with his old life, and with the one person he truly loved for most of his life. Egypt was his legacy, it was his heritage, it was his blood. Besides, it made one helluva dramatic calling card. 'Imhotep was here.' It appealed to his admittedly warped sense of humor.
He thought his sense of humor was warped, but it was nothing compared to the warped minds of his three underlings. The ones responsible for this thrice-be-damned mess. He never liked the Med-jai, the men of the desert who protected the treasures of Egypt. . .among other things. They made his life difficult, but, at the same time, he respected them. Especially the late chieftain, Suleiman Bey. Imhotep matched wits with him many times over the years and came to respect him. Not only for his intelligence and ability to keep up with Imhotep, but because he was so committed to his family. Imhotep admired that in a man.
When Suleiman Bey was killed, nearly ten years earlier by one of Imhotep's associates, the thief released him from his employ, and made sure he could never work again. Imhotep had no desire to kill anyone. . .although for that pathetic fool, he would have made an exception. Especially since Suleiman's successor, his older son Andreas, was no match for Imhotep. He was no bungling fool, but nor did he have his father's wisdom, maturity. . .any of the things which made him such an excellent chess player.
Then, five years ago, Andreas was killed and his younger brother Ardeth took up the mantle of leadership for the Med-jai. At his side was their step-brother, Rick O'Connell. Altair Bey remarried after her husband's death, to an American with a son only a year older than her second born. Nathaniel O'Connell. Altair was still a young woman, by the standards of many, and two children were born of this second marriage, both little girls.
Imhotep learned this quite by accident, while he was stealing the Book of Amun-Ra. That should have been his first clue that he hired people with low standards. He overheard Lock-nah bragging to Meela that he blackmailed one of the young Med-jai warriors into giving him what he needed to steal the Book, by threatening to kill the two baby sisters of Ardeth Bey. That was pure stupidity, and ensured the young chieftain would come after them.
Imhotep could hardly blame the older brother for that. He would kill anyone who threatened his family, much less his small sisters, if he had them. And he learned over the last five years, since Ardeth took command, that threatening the two little girls was truly the most stupid thing Lock- nah could have done. Though only seventeen at the time of his older brother's death, Ardeth immediately proved to be far more effective leader than Andreas, and Imhotep grew to respect the teenaged chieftain.
He thought outside the box, as the saying went. He made contingency plans for things that sounded far-fetched, and planned for the more obvious. Imhotep admired him. Under different circumstances, he might have even liked the boy. At the very least, he would have arranged a meeting, to find out why Ardeth did things in such a way. Perhaps because his step-brother was an American, and Ardeth listened to Rick's unconventional ideas. At least, that was Imhotep's theory, and it was as good as any.
Imhotep would have asked them now since they, like he, were prisoners. However, that was nothing short of impossible. Ardeth was. . .unable to communicate. And Rick was worried sick about his badly injured brother. . .every time Imhotep even attempted to approach, the young American Med-jai shot him a look of such hatred, Imhotep inevitably sat down. The young man blamed Imhotep for what was done to his brother. Hard to blame him, when it was Imhotep's enforcer who left Ardeth Bey in such terrible condition.
He wasn't on hand for the actual attack, but it wasn't necessary. He saw the end results, and knew that Ardeth was fighting for his very life. It seemed likely that a broken rib punctured his lung, and it was only a matter of time before his lung collapsed. They were looking at hours, not days, before the boy died. Imhotep didn't want that to happen. He didn't want Suleiman Bey's worthy young son to die before he had a chance to really live.
Every few moments, a groan would echo through the room, though the Med-jai remained unconscious. His head was pillowed on his brother's thigh, and inevitably, each time Ardeth groaned softly in pain, Rick would look toward the door. What was he looking for? Escape? Not likely. He couldn't escape, not without leaving his brother behind, and that, he wasn't about to do. Imhotep hardly knew him, but he knew that without question.
During the last few weeks, Imhotep had time to watch the two brothers. Rick O'Connell may be a doubting Thomas, but one thing he wouldn't tolerate was someone harming his little brother. Was the American looking for rescue? Equally unlikely. The girls were also prisoners.
The girls. Imhotep closed his eyes. Yes, Rick was right to blame him for this. Not just because Imhotep's enforcer. . .former enforcer, since Lock-nah now worked on his own. . . almost killed Rick's brother. But Imhotep showed the most amazing lack of intelligence. He fell in love, and then actually believed that Meela was anything like her cousin because they looked alike. He was such a fool.
Three times a fool, it seemed. . .for hiring Lock-nah, Meela, and Hafez. He should have known those three were trouble. He should have seen it from the beginning, and maybe if he did, a twenty-two year old boy wouldn't be fighting for every breath he took right now. Imhotep allowed his head to drop back. . .and as he did, he saw something which shocked him. There were shadows in the grate overhead.
Imhotep looked away, not wanting to draw attention to himself. . .and looked right at Rick O'Connell, to find the other man looking back. For the first time since the beginning of the endgame, the young American was looking at Imhotep with something other than hatred and contempt. Rick looked back up at the ceiling, and Imhotep did the same after making sure Meela and Lock-nah were otherwise occupied. A regular Bonnie and Clyde, they were.
A face peered between the slats and Imhotep's heart jumped. He knew that face! A single finger was held against the person's lips, in the classic 'shhh' gesture. Imhotep would keep silent. Rescue was at hand. But it would take time, and Imhotep would use that time to think about the mistakes he made. He would never allow something like this to happen again. To ensure that, he forced himself to start at the beginning.
And where was the beginning? Was it when he stole the breathtaking Book of Amun-Ra from Egypt, and brought the Med-jai chasing after him? Was it when he chose to hide in plain sight at a college, after watching an old movie from the '80's? Or was it. . .was it when he saw her face? Imhotep's heart twisted. Yes. It was when he saw her for the first time, more than six weeks ago. His beautiful Anck-su-namun.
She was now a prisoner of that bastard Lock-nah, along with her two roommates. Were those three innocent girls safe? He hoped so. He hoped Lock-nah learned his lesson the first time he messed with those three girls. Perhaps that was the beginning after all. The beginning of his mistakes. . .allowing the exotically beautiful Anck into his heart. But she *was* beautiful, and everything he ever wanted in a woman. Imhotep closed his eyes, remembering. . .
The Learning Curve
Prologue
It wasn't supposed to end like this. He looked around the room, shaking his head sadly. It wasn't supposed to end like this. But what else could he have expected? You employ people with low standards, and this was what you got. He stole for the thrill, and because he loved beautiful things. He stole because Robin Hood was one of his greatest heroes. He genuinely cared about people, though most would have found that difficult to believe. And it was that compassion for people which made this entire situation so unbearable for Imhotep.
That wasn't his real name, of course. It was so long since he used his real name, he forgot what it was. Something very pedestrian, he was sure. He cho__ the name of the great architect and doctor because he was also a lover of beautiful things. That Imhotep, the chief architect of Djoser, created things. Not just buildings, magnificent buildings, but he was also considered a god of medicine. That was the sort of legacy Imhotep wanted to leave.
In addition, Imhotep's mother was Egyptian. It was only right that he take the name of a great Egyptian for his new life. It was a connection with his old life, and with the one person he truly loved for most of his life. Egypt was his legacy, it was his heritage, it was his blood. Besides, it made one helluva dramatic calling card. 'Imhotep was here.' It appealed to his admittedly warped sense of humor.
He thought his sense of humor was warped, but it was nothing compared to the warped minds of his three underlings. The ones responsible for this thrice-be-damned mess. He never liked the Med-jai, the men of the desert who protected the treasures of Egypt. . .among other things. They made his life difficult, but, at the same time, he respected them. Especially the late chieftain, Suleiman Bey. Imhotep matched wits with him many times over the years and came to respect him. Not only for his intelligence and ability to keep up with Imhotep, but because he was so committed to his family. Imhotep admired that in a man.
When Suleiman Bey was killed, nearly ten years earlier by one of Imhotep's associates, the thief released him from his employ, and made sure he could never work again. Imhotep had no desire to kill anyone. . .although for that pathetic fool, he would have made an exception. Especially since Suleiman's successor, his older son Andreas, was no match for Imhotep. He was no bungling fool, but nor did he have his father's wisdom, maturity. . .any of the things which made him such an excellent chess player.
Then, five years ago, Andreas was killed and his younger brother Ardeth took up the mantle of leadership for the Med-jai. At his side was their step-brother, Rick O'Connell. Altair Bey remarried after her husband's death, to an American with a son only a year older than her second born. Nathaniel O'Connell. Altair was still a young woman, by the standards of many, and two children were born of this second marriage, both little girls.
Imhotep learned this quite by accident, while he was stealing the Book of Amun-Ra. That should have been his first clue that he hired people with low standards. He overheard Lock-nah bragging to Meela that he blackmailed one of the young Med-jai warriors into giving him what he needed to steal the Book, by threatening to kill the two baby sisters of Ardeth Bey. That was pure stupidity, and ensured the young chieftain would come after them.
Imhotep could hardly blame the older brother for that. He would kill anyone who threatened his family, much less his small sisters, if he had them. And he learned over the last five years, since Ardeth took command, that threatening the two little girls was truly the most stupid thing Lock- nah could have done. Though only seventeen at the time of his older brother's death, Ardeth immediately proved to be far more effective leader than Andreas, and Imhotep grew to respect the teenaged chieftain.
He thought outside the box, as the saying went. He made contingency plans for things that sounded far-fetched, and planned for the more obvious. Imhotep admired him. Under different circumstances, he might have even liked the boy. At the very least, he would have arranged a meeting, to find out why Ardeth did things in such a way. Perhaps because his step-brother was an American, and Ardeth listened to Rick's unconventional ideas. At least, that was Imhotep's theory, and it was as good as any.
Imhotep would have asked them now since they, like he, were prisoners. However, that was nothing short of impossible. Ardeth was. . .unable to communicate. And Rick was worried sick about his badly injured brother. . .every time Imhotep even attempted to approach, the young American Med-jai shot him a look of such hatred, Imhotep inevitably sat down. The young man blamed Imhotep for what was done to his brother. Hard to blame him, when it was Imhotep's enforcer who left Ardeth Bey in such terrible condition.
He wasn't on hand for the actual attack, but it wasn't necessary. He saw the end results, and knew that Ardeth was fighting for his very life. It seemed likely that a broken rib punctured his lung, and it was only a matter of time before his lung collapsed. They were looking at hours, not days, before the boy died. Imhotep didn't want that to happen. He didn't want Suleiman Bey's worthy young son to die before he had a chance to really live.
Every few moments, a groan would echo through the room, though the Med-jai remained unconscious. His head was pillowed on his brother's thigh, and inevitably, each time Ardeth groaned softly in pain, Rick would look toward the door. What was he looking for? Escape? Not likely. He couldn't escape, not without leaving his brother behind, and that, he wasn't about to do. Imhotep hardly knew him, but he knew that without question.
During the last few weeks, Imhotep had time to watch the two brothers. Rick O'Connell may be a doubting Thomas, but one thing he wouldn't tolerate was someone harming his little brother. Was the American looking for rescue? Equally unlikely. The girls were also prisoners.
The girls. Imhotep closed his eyes. Yes, Rick was right to blame him for this. Not just because Imhotep's enforcer. . .former enforcer, since Lock-nah now worked on his own. . . almost killed Rick's brother. But Imhotep showed the most amazing lack of intelligence. He fell in love, and then actually believed that Meela was anything like her cousin because they looked alike. He was such a fool.
Three times a fool, it seemed. . .for hiring Lock-nah, Meela, and Hafez. He should have known those three were trouble. He should have seen it from the beginning, and maybe if he did, a twenty-two year old boy wouldn't be fighting for every breath he took right now. Imhotep allowed his head to drop back. . .and as he did, he saw something which shocked him. There were shadows in the grate overhead.
Imhotep looked away, not wanting to draw attention to himself. . .and looked right at Rick O'Connell, to find the other man looking back. For the first time since the beginning of the endgame, the young American was looking at Imhotep with something other than hatred and contempt. Rick looked back up at the ceiling, and Imhotep did the same after making sure Meela and Lock-nah were otherwise occupied. A regular Bonnie and Clyde, they were.
A face peered between the slats and Imhotep's heart jumped. He knew that face! A single finger was held against the person's lips, in the classic 'shhh' gesture. Imhotep would keep silent. Rescue was at hand. But it would take time, and Imhotep would use that time to think about the mistakes he made. He would never allow something like this to happen again. To ensure that, he forced himself to start at the beginning.
And where was the beginning? Was it when he stole the breathtaking Book of Amun-Ra from Egypt, and brought the Med-jai chasing after him? Was it when he chose to hide in plain sight at a college, after watching an old movie from the '80's? Or was it. . .was it when he saw her face? Imhotep's heart twisted. Yes. It was when he saw her for the first time, more than six weeks ago. His beautiful Anck-su-namun.
She was now a prisoner of that bastard Lock-nah, along with her two roommates. Were those three innocent girls safe? He hoped so. He hoped Lock-nah learned his lesson the first time he messed with those three girls. Perhaps that was the beginning after all. The beginning of his mistakes. . .allowing the exotically beautiful Anck into his heart. But she *was* beautiful, and everything he ever wanted in a woman. Imhotep closed his eyes, remembering. . .