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An hour before sunrise...
Ahkmenrah sat atop his sarcophagus, two Jackal guards stood at their posts, beady eyes watching for signs of danger. It was their duty to protect their King. This was their last night and try as he might, he couldn't bear to be there for the goodbyes, he couldn't bear the thought that the first family he had had in over 4000 years would be leaving him forever. Things would never be the same again. He did, however take comfort in the thought that he needn't be locked back up inside his sarcophagus for the journey. He would be remaining here, with Rex and Teddy. Ever since Larry had let him out he'd been doing his best to be nice to everyone, terrified that one wrong move would result in him being locked back up again. To awake each night in darkness only to die when dawn struck… Ahkmenrah shivered, it was the stuff of nightmares. He gazed up at his tablet.
"They're never going to wake up again." he said sadly to his Jackals. Though the guards never held up their side in a conversation, it was comforting nonetheless to have someone to speak with. Unbeknownst to the young King however, there were another pair of ears listening in. The figure slunk off unnoticed, determined that this could not be their last night. Something needed to be done.
Ahkmenrah ran a hand down the ornate detail of his sarcophagus, it wasn't one designed to scare like so many of his ancestors, rather, it was one to be in awe of. Before young C.J. Fredricks had fallen into his tomb he'd been able to roam free in his grave for but a year, not once setting foot outside. Except for one night.
In all his time of being dead, there had only been one tomb raider, he remembered with a fondness the moment he'd run into the raider in one of the long corridors – not being able to stand being in the same room as his organs – dressed in linen bandages with no crown atop his head but with curly hair sticking up in an elegant mess. So the tale of the cursed tomb spread, no one dared raid the tomb where a dead Pharaoh roamed the halls.
The day his parents died they too had joined him in the family tomb, their sarcophagi protectively flanking his own. The three sarcophagi lay before the black gate of Neter-Khertet: the gate to the underworld, that bore the Tablet of Ahkmenrah in all its splendour. They awoke each night with Ahkmenrah usually wandering off to explore the vast halls. He moved carefully, with a silent grace, being sure not to step in any of the traps or pitfalls his father had ensured be rigged, and being sure not to lose himself in the intricate maze; leaving his parents to be alone with each other. The day that Kahmunrah finally joined them in the tomb was the day his freedom was forcibly taken from him. The elder sibling's deathbed resided in a separate wing of the tomb upon his final request.
Ahkmenrah shuddered as the unwanted memory seeped back into his mind, the first action of his waking brother was to lock him in. He remembered screaming and shouting, begging to be set free. He remembered the tears that trickled down the side of his face, he remembered the bruising of his hands and the shattering of bones each time he tried too hard. He had no idea what had happened to his parents, never once did he hear them speaking as those fateful centuries passed. Only the taunting of his brother, who roamed free through the halls, could be heard. He recalled the last night he'd spent with his parents, none of them had known that that night would be the last where they all roamed free. They had known things would change, of course, the tomb had been opened and preparations for Kahmenrah's burial had begun; how much things would change however, that they had not anticipated.
The first night had been the worst, banging and screaming. Shouting at the top of his lungs for someone to come. A single tear dripped down his cheek as he remembered the nights of panic and the nights where he had all but given up. The first few years had been the worst, filled with the hope that this could be the day where he was freed, only to be disappointed each night. Larry had been the only one in the entire museum who had taken the chance and opened his sarcophagus, admittedly it had been in a bid to save his own life from his Jackal guards and thus more selfish than selfless, but Ahkmenrah was thankful for it all the same.
He was brought back to the real world by the sound of scurrying feet. Snapping his head around and wiping his eyes he scanned the shadows for the source of the sound. The sound of a chuckling monkey echoed through the exhibit as he darted past the Jackal guards.
"What in the name of the gods...?" Ahkmenrah got to his feet, moving towards the noise as he scanned the dimly lit replica of his tomb.
Suddenly Dexter appeared from the shadows, clambering up a pillar behind the Pharaoh and dashing towards the sacred tablet. He tore the artefact from its mount on the wall and leapt back down to the floor as Ahk vaulted over his sarcophagus – with surprising dexterity – in an attempt to grab the thieving monkey.
Dexter darted out of reach and made a break for the exit.
"Guards!" he yelled, "Stop him!"
The guards, lumbering slowly, raised their spears and threw them towards the monkey. Both missed.
"No…" he cursed, "Return that at once!" Ahkmenrah shouted, leaping over the sarcophagus once again, golden robed billowing out behind him as he charged past the guards. He made a lunge for the tablet, almost losing his balance as the monkey scuttled away, just out of reach once again and into the shadow of the dark museum halls. No one ever went down Ahkmenrah's hall towards his tomb but him, the lights always remained dull leaving a network of shadows. He chased the monkey out into the light of another corridor, "That is my birthright!" he yelled chasing the monkey, the metal and jewels that adorned his robes jingling as he ran.
Dexter darted around another corner with lightning speed, his squeals filling the air with the glowing tablet still in his small arms. Ahkmenrah, however, was not so fast and careered straight into the wall. Cursing, he pulled himself to his feet and resumed his chase after the small animal.
"I will string you up and allow the romans to use you for target practice!" he yelled running straight into Attila the Hun.
"What?!" Attila yelled in Hun.
"That wasn't directed at you my friend." Ahkmenrah assured the feral man and tried ducked out the way to find the monkey.
Attila yelled and bore down on the young Pharaoh with his sword raised above his head, ready to strike. Ahkmenrah barely had enough time to duck the swing and dodge the Hun's attempts to grab him before he tore after the monkey and ripped the tablet from his hand. With a satisfied sigh he looked up. Dawn was on its way, he glanced at Larry and Teddy, deep in conversation as he turned to run back to his sarcophagus, time was of the essence.
Without any warning, Attila yelled and charged forwards, rugby tackling him into the Hun's crate. Dawn broke before Ahkmenrah could even fight back. The King died all over again and the wax figure of Attila the Hun was lying on top of Ahkmenrah's still and decayed corpse.
Soon the lid was pushed onto the crate by an acne scarred removal man and the wooden crate lowered into the back of the big red cargo container whilst the golden sarcophagus lay empty.