Disclaimer: I don't own The Mummy, nor do I own Hetalia, they are on loan.

I'm back~ I couldn't stick to my "start updating in September" plan. I was way too impatient! So, here you guys go!

P.S-While the plot will be basically the same, there will be differences in some scenes, dialogue, etc. for those who are familiar with the movie The Mummy.

Warnings-Gore (not a lot), swearing, genderbent characters (aka Nyotalia inserts), yaoi...If there are more, I'll add it to this list, as I go. And beware of The Singing Maiden's very descriptive scenes on gores as she is this fanfic's beta reader.

Enjoy!

Hamunaptra 2005

Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones of the French Foreign Legion looked over the low stone facade at the charging bandits, and grimaced. Things were not going good for his squadron after they caught whispers of the location of Hamunaptra. They had trekked from Libya into Egypt for this place and all they found was sand. They did not have the tools necessary to explore the ruin, either. Then, when it seemed things couldn't get any worse, they heard from their look out that bandits were converging on the site. Alfred pushed up his glasses, blue eyes squinting behind them from the sun. He held his rifle at ready before looking to his right when he heard a sharp clang. The squadron leader had thrown down his sword and kicked at his horse, galloping away from the bandits. Alfred exchanged glances with Beni, a smaller, dark haired dark eyed Hungarian man who had also seen their captain running away. Beni turned to him and shrugged.

"You just got promoted."

Alfred snorted both in disgust at the captain's actions and amusement at Beni's comment. Currently, he was the highest ranking officer present, and gave the order to ready the men.

"Steady!" He shouted before turning to Beni, "You're with me on this one, right?"

"Oh, your strength gives me strength," Beni replied. As they looked on at the approaching line of bandits, each armed and on horseback, Beni paused and shook his head before running back into the city ruins. Alfred watched him run in disbelief before turning back to the bandits.

"Steady!" He cried at the line grew closer. The headdress he wore to protect him from the harsh Egyptian sun was making his blond hair clump together uncomfortably.

"Steady!" honestly what did people expect when they joined the military? Alfred couldn't understand why his fellow men deserted them. Well, looking at the armed men charging towards them, he could understand their fear, but he joined the military to be a Hero, and no band of bandits was going to stop the twenty two year old American.

"Fire!"

Shots fired across the sand towards the bandits. Alfred quickly reloaded and shot at the bandits again while backing up. The squadron took out several men from the front lines, but there were more appearing to replace them. Alfred started to retreat slowly; he knew they were hopelessly out numbered. He and the rest of the squadron ran back into the ruins as the bandits reached the parapet, many jumping over the small line of stone with their horses. He pulled out two of the three pistols he had on him, shooting incoming bandits down as he ran backwards, before throwing them at the enemy when they ran out of bullets. The pistols each hit a man, knocking him off their horses. Soldiers were falling around him, with the deafening sounds of gunshots ringing in his ears as Alfred ran deeper into the ruins. He saw Beni running to a small stone building he was heading to.

"Run, Beni!" Alfred called out, running to the shelter as well. He was puzzled when he saw Beni grinning at him while attempting to push a stone door shut.

'Is he-?' Alfred's temper roused itself as he shouted, "Don't you close that door, Beni! Don't you close that door!"

It was too late; Beni had managed to close the door right as Alfred slammed into it. Alfred turned around to see more groups of bandits following him. He looked around and ran to the right as fast as he could. He ducked as he heard a shot being fired behind him, barely missing the bullet. He ducked behind a pillar and shot at the bandit with his last pistol. It hit its mark and the man fell from his horse. Alfred didn't stay to watch, he was already running down the stairs, stumbling from the sand covering it, before throwing himself over a fallen pillar several yards away. He landed hard on the sand, losing his pistol in the process, but quickly pushed himself up. He reached for his fallen pistol but pulled his arms back as several bandits rode up and shot at him, just missing by the hair. Alfred ran away from them, but skidded to a stop when he saw another group riding up in front of him. Cursing, he ran left, deeper into the ruins, passing by pillars and walls. He saw a pistol abandoned on the ground and picked it up as he ran, ducking behind a wall to shoot at the bandits. Out of the four shots he fired, only two bandits were shot, which was good enough for Alfred. The shots made the rest of the bandits stop for several seconds, which bought Alfred precious time to run away. He kept running, dodging more incoming bullets and trying to see through all the sand being kicked up in the air. Alfred ran to a pillar on the outskirts of the ruins and stopped just before it in defeat. There was nowhere to run to and he knew it. He turned around to see the bandits riding up to him, grinning in victory,. Alfred grimaced and prepared himself to be shot. But when the expected pain didn't come, Alfred opened an eye to see the bandits were quaking in fear, before running away quickly. Alfred blinked in confusion and but sighed in relief.

"That was a close one,", he said to himself,. "Wonder what was up with the- whoa!"

Alfred backed away from the pillar. O once the dust settled, he could see that the pillar it was not actually a pillar but a statue of a man with the head of a jackal. Alfred adjusted his glasses, looking closer at the statue. Like the rest of the ruins, it was old, but amazingly huge. The top head was two feet above Alfred, who was already pretty tall at 5 feet 10 inches. It was probably even taller, judging from the fact that only the head and the upper part of the torso showed above ground; it probably continued down several feet, if not yards. Alfred was startled when the sands below his feet shifted. He yelped and jumped back as they rose up in waves and hit him, making him stumble backward as he was buffeted by sand from all directions, throwing him around until he ran back into the ruins. Alfred shivered as he heard an angry moan rumble through the ground. If the young American had looked behind him at that moment, he would have seen the sand shaped itself to resemble the face of a man in great agony. The chilling site disappeared in three minutes, the sand dispersing, leaving no sign that the face ever formed.

Alfred staggered away, slowing down as he felt someone was staring at him. He stood still, looking slowly over his shoulder. When he didn't see anyone, he raised his gaze higher. On top of the cliffs overlooking Hamunaptra, there were at least ten men sitting on horseback, all wearing black robes and looking down at the ruins intently. Even though he was thoroughly crept out by them, Alfred still stared at them, running off to the camp they made before they found Hamunaptra that morning

'Scary...' Alfred thought, his throat parched for water and his muscles tired and aching once the adrenaline wore off.

On the cliffs, one of the men noted sombrely, "The Creature remains undiscovered.".

Another man amongst them looked to the young man sitting on the black horse in the middle of the line and asked, "What about that one? Do we kill him?"

The man in the middle regarded the blond running into the desert, before shaking his head.

"Leave him; the desert will take care of it for us".

The rest of the men nodded in acceptance before riding away, letting the rest of their order know that they could return back to their homes, until they were called again.

London, 2005

"Get me another..." mumbled one young man, his green eyes dull, even his bright blond hair seemed gloomier.

The bartender gave the young man an exasperated look before pouring him a glass of water instead of the whiskey he asked for. Arthur only had two glasses, but if he was in this state already, it was best not to give him any more alcohol.

"What's with ya this time, Arthur?" He asked, leaning on his elbows. He rolled his eyes when a mumble came from the drunk blond. He was used to Arthur's drunken manners but looked at him in concern when tears started falling from his eyes.

"Arthur?" He asked hesitantly, reaching a hand out towards the man.

"They abandoned me!" came the disheartened sob; Arthur burying his face in his crossed arms. The bartender motioned for Riley to take his place before walking out of the bar to sit next to the English gent. It was a slow night and besides, he owned the place anyway.

Arthur was still crying, sobbing in a way that had the bartender worry about his breathing.

"Come on, Arthur, it can't be that bad…could it?" he winced at the question. If whatever happened got Arthur full out crying instead of ranting with a few tears that he insists was just dirt in his eyes, then it was bad.

Arthur sniffed and looked up at him, bright green eyes shimmering and lined with red. "My family disowned me Jack."

Jack's green eyes, similar in shade to Arthur's, widened in shock.

"Say what? Mate, aren't ya like the golden child of the family? What did you get disowned for?"

By now Riley, his co-owner, bartender and younger brother, was listening in quietly. Jack rubbed the back of his head, looking awkwardly at one of his favorite patrons. Arthur had been a regular visitor since he came of age, and despite the rants he had a tendency of going into when he got drunk, he really wasn't a bad person. A little surly, defensive and grouchy, true, but overall a great person.

'He's also a hoot whenever he gets pissed,' Jack thought wryly.

"I'm gay."

"Okay," Jack said not really surprised. He knew of Arthur's sexual orientation ever since he caught him staring at his arse several years ago. "I take it your folks weren't too happy about that, huh?"

A sharp glare, still scary despite the tears clouding them, gave Jack the answer.

"So you got no place to go?" Riley asked, leaning over the bar and petting Arthur's head gently. Arthur nodded miserably, leaning into the soothing touch.

Jack frowned, before pulling out his phone and stared at it contemplatively. One more look at Arthur, who was like a kicked puppy out in the rain, and Jack flipped open his phone and searched through his contacts for the one to call. The second he placed the device by his ear, he brightened as he heard the phone picked up and a German voice filtered through the background noise.

"Hallo?"

"Gilbert! How ya doing, mate?" Jack asked cheerfully, walking away from the melancholy Brit, his brother got Arthur well in hand. "Say, you still in London…Uh-huh, and you still need that translator? Perfect!" he paused, his grin widening. "Naw, it's not a girl, but I think you'll like him. Look, just come on over to the bar and we can talk about it here, whaddaya think? Right, see ya, mate!" he hung up and put his phone back into his pants pocket. He spun on his heel towards his friend and brother, whistling a jaunty tune.

Arthur and Riley looked up at him questioningly. The Kiwi managed to get Arthur to stop crying and drink the cup of tea he brewed.

"Good news, mate! I found ya a roommate!"

"Pardon?" Arthur asked, looking at the Australian as if he was crazy.

"Yeah, I know a guy who needs a translator for ancient languages, because the museum won't take the rare book he found without it being translated…

"And the museum will charge the guy for doing the translation themselves, right?" Arthur sipped his tea. "They have a tendency to do that. What was your friend's name?"

"Oh, his name's Gilbert, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He's a good bloke, and-",

Here Jack was cut off by the slam of the front door hitting the wall and an unpleasantly loud voice. "The AWESOME me has arrived!" shouted a man dressed in a navy blue button down shirt and brown dress pants at the door way. His red eyes, highlighted by his pale face and almost silvery white hair, strutted to the bar at the back before settling with the trio. He sauntered in, oozing confidence and wearing an obnoxious grin.

"So, Jackie, what did ya call me here for?" he asked, pulling over a stool and sat next to Arthur.

Jack laughed, patting the new arrival on the shoulder. "Gilbert, this is Arthur. Arthur, Gilbert," he introduced the two men, who eyed each other up.

"So, Jack says you can translate my book for me?" Gilbert looked at Arthur expectantly.

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow. "What language is it in?"

Gilbert grinned at him daringly, offering up a small backpack for the Brit to see. "I don't really know, I found it at a castle in Romania and I thought it looked awesome," The man smirked.

"Let me see," Arthur demanded, taking the backpack out of the albino's hands. Apparently, Jack noticed that he somehow managed to sober up. A look at the glass next to Arthur showed that it was holding the remnants of a red drink, which answered the Australian's question about Arthur's sobriety. Riley knew how to make a great hangover cure; the one he gave Arthur actually managed to help clear out the alcohol in his system in a snap, it helped that Arthur was a lightweight and only had two glasses.

Arthur opened it and lifted the wrapped up book out gentle. With equal tenderness, he unravelled the book before gently turning the pages with a pair of tweezers he took out from his portable sewing kit. While he slowly got engrossed into reading it, Riley and Jack went back to tending the bar. Apart from a few stragglers, Arthur and Gilbert were the only ones there. Gilbert was nursing a beer as he talked to Jack about his travels through Europe.

After about an hour of examining the book, Arthur finally closed shut it on his lap, grabbing the bartenders' and albino's attention. "Well," the Brit began, "what you have here, my friend, is a diary." He tapped the cover of the book gently with his fingers. "To be precise, it is a diary from a young man during the exodus of the Crimean Tatars to the Ottoman Empire."

"How do you know that?"

Arthur looked up at Gilbert's amazed face as he began to explain. " The lettering is Arabic, but the language is actually Chagatai, which was spoken in Turkey. Eventually the alphabets were replaced by different languages, so it might not have been obvious it was from that area. A lot of Tatars migrated to the Ottoman Empire and many of them did settle in Bulgaria and Romania, which is where you said you found the book, correct?" He watched Gilbert mouth beginning to stretch into a grin.

"Can you translate it?" he asked impatiently, his German accent slipping in as he grew excited.

Arthur nodded slowly.

"Awesome! Looks like there is more to you than your eyebrows, Blondie!" Gilbert crowed. Arthur huffed at him, and ranted about how his eyebrows weren't that big. Gilbert laughed before looking back at Arthur contemplatively. "So, what do you want for payment?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, well…" Arthur fumbled; it was the first time someone offered to pay him for doing his hobby. The work he did at the local bookshop didn't really count because all he did was translate books from other more modern languages into whatever language was necessary.

"He needs a place to stay," Jack cut in, earning him a surprised look from both men.

"Vhat?" Gilbert asked, confused about the situation.

"You've been saying that Elizaveta and Roderich were looking for someone who could translate the books they have, right? Arthur here knows pretty much every language in the world, and any he doesn't know he picks up quickly." Jack ignored the glare Arthur was levelling at him, it was for the bloke's own good.

Gilbert levelled Arthur a look. "Is he serious?"

Arthur blushed darkly. "Well, not every language on Earth, but I do know quite a few fluently."

"Huh, so why do ya need a place to stay?" Gilbert asked, leaning an elbow against the bar.

Arthur face darkened, both from shyness and a bit of anger. "My parents kicked me out," He said after a the pause. "I'm staying at a hotel right now."

"Wait, you're already staying at a hotel? When did they kick you out?" Jack angrily asked.

Arthur looked at Jack and the equally indignant Riley in surprise. "Ah, well, I was told to get out about six hours ago, so I packed my stuff and luckily managed to find a hotel." He was startled by the increasingly angry expressions on his friends' faces and hurriedly added in, "It's not that bad, I was going to go back and pick up the rest of my stuff tomorrow. Hopefully it is still there…" the last part was barely a whisper, but Gilbert still caught it.

He narrowed his eyes at the Briton,. "Why did they kick ya out, anyway?"

Jack was about to defend Arthur, but the emerald eyed blond stopped him. "They did not like my sexual preferences," he stated primly, his eyes daring the German man to say anything.

"That's all?" he asked. "Well, as long as you don't get into shit with the police or mafia I don't give a crap about what you do." Gilbert finished his drink and put the money on the bar.

"How do ya feel about Austria, Eyebrows?" Gilbert grinned at Arthur's indignation over his nickname. "Should I call ya Artie, then?" he queried semi-innocently, laughing at the incensed man.

"No, you will absolutely not call me that! My name is Arthur!"

"Yeah, yeah, I don't really care, so what about Austria?" Gilbert demanded impatiently.

Arthur paused, a moment in thought. "I do have a passport and some money, so I can get myself there if need be."

"Great!" Gilbert whopped loudly, falling back against his chair with a smug grin. "We'll leave in a day or two so get your stuff ready. Roderich knows some people who would like their stuff translated too, especially those weird languages nobody speaks anymore." He grinned when he saw Arthur's eyes light up at the mention of rare languages. "You translate the things we need, and Roddy can give ya a room until you can get a job and a place of your own."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, not wanting to believe that the answer to his troubles could be found so easily.

"Yeah, sure, Roddy and Eliza have plenty of room. I live there too, so I know," Gilbert held out a hand out to Arthur. "So, whaddaya say, we got a deal?"

Arthur grinned and shook Gilbert's hand. "Yes, I believe we do Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Call me Gilbert; Mr. Beilschmidt makes me feel old and un-awesome."

Yes, Arthur did believe that the future couldn't look any brighter.

If only he knew what awaited him in several years' time.

R & R please! More reviews makes me happy and much more motivated to write more!

~Kosaji