Disclaimers: I do not own "Mighty Max," "Mummies Alive!," "Star Wars," or anything else that pops up in this story and is already copyrighted by someone else. I do, however, own my plotline and the subsequent events that take place.
Enjoy!
Although he should have expected it, Presley still found his mouth hanging open when confronted with Max, Norman, and Virgil waiting for him after school. Max grinned impudently as the boy-prince rushed over to them.
"How was class?" he asked smugly.
"What are you doing here?" Presley said, somewhere between concerned and shocked. Normally he kept his mummies out of sight, knowing the appearance of four undead people would attract unwanted attention from the whole city. But here, amidst the swell of students now free from the end of Friday's learning, no one batted an eye at the largest normal person anyone had ever seen, fully armed and armored of course, and a pint-sized but all-too-anthropomorphic chicken.
"Picking you up from school. The others said we could take you out to the arcade, if your mom says its okay," Max answered, shrugging.
"No, I mean, you're out in the open! People are looking at Norman and Virgil! Aren't they...well...sort of a secret?"
"Why should we be?" Norman asked gruffly.
"Presley," Virgil said, understanding the difficulty, "you must understand that Norman and I have two advantages over your friends. The first is that we act openly, and we neither concern ourselves nor fear the world's opinion or knowledge of us. It neither endangers nor impairs us to be known by the people. We walk openly, and because we do so unashamedly, we draw far less attention than if we appeared apprehensive about being noticed. But secondly, and far more importantly, fate plays a hand in our case. You see, neither of us are, or really ever were, 'normal' people. I have always been Lemurian, and Norman has been outside the normal rules of the universe for over ten-thousand years."
"So?"
"Therefore, along with immortality, we have been gifted with what I believe you would call a 'glamour.' When people look at us, casually or in passing, we appear to be far more mundane than we really are: I apparently look like a slightly-withered older, but very dignified man, and Norman looks essentially like himself, large and strong, but not absurdly so. Not that you are absurd, Norman," for the Guardian was scowling, "but you are unnaturally sized, and the glamour hides that."
"But you don't look like…an old man or whatever," Presley pointed out.
"Well, no, not to you. Those who are born to see, such as yourself and the Mighty One, will always see us for what we really are. And you should know that those who really attempt to examine us will also penetrate the guise to our realities. But generally, those who look at the unexpected will see what they would rather see, not what is truly there. Such is the way of people." Virgil folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe, watching the young prince consider what he had learned. Norman and Max exchanged knowing grins.
"Wow," Presley finally said, piecing things together in his mind. "Can you teach Rath how to do that?" It would be so much easier if the mummies could walk openly, rather than follow him around all the time from the shadows or in really silly clothing and costumes.
"Unfortunately, I cannot. Even undead as they are, they are still bound by mortality, and as such, cannot cheat the universe as Norman and I." Virgil shook his head, and Presley sighed. The mummies would have to keep up their annoying following habits.
"Come on," Max changed the subject, "let's go see if we can get permission from your mom to hang out, okay? I've been around the city some, but you know this town and all the good spots around here." He gestured widely, encompassing the whole area. "For as long as I don't have to be in school, I want to enjoy it!"
"All right," Presley answered cautiously, "but my mom's a little bit of a stickler when it comes to my friends..."
--==OOO==--
"Well, of course you can go out and play with Max, Presley!" Mrs. Carnovan said brightly. Presley was shocked, but looking back, it made sense. Almost immediately upon walking into the house, Max and Virgil had both turned up their respective charms. Max's bright energy, his friendliness and sense of humor, opened his mother like a book, leaving her disarmed and enchanted by this polite, vibrant boy. Then, Virgil, speaking deliberately and choosing his subjects carefully, began a discussion about the historical artifacts around the house. From one breath to the next, Presley's mother was swapping translations and interpretations, her historical flair melding nicely with Virgil's knowledge. By the time the boys broke in to ask if they could go to the arcade, once Virgil had assured her he would be escorting them, she was only too happy to leave her son in the company of this "lovely, intelligent gentleman."
"So that's how you got your mom to like them!" Presley said appreciatively as they walked away from the house, a scant ten minutes later than they had entered.
"Yup. Except with mom, it isn't fake. She and Virgil will talk for hours if we let them. Once or twice, Normie has had to carry Virg out so we could get going and actually save the world," Max lamented.
"I beg your pardon, Mighty One, but there was nothing 'fake' about my exchange back there. Amanda is really a very bright and well-versed lady, and it is a pleasure to discuss history and archeology so intelligently. I rarely get the opportunity to do so, you realize..." Virgil said, giving Max and Norman a vaguely contemptuous look.
"Oh, all right, Virg, we know you like history. But save it for our moms!"
Several happy hours later, Max and Presley were practically brothers, forged in the united common defense against aliens, fighter jets, and various other antagonists from every video game they could afford in the arcade. Virgil, having finally broken his mild addiction to the games, drolly watched the boys play, while Norman managed to break at least two machines by pushing on the buttons or controllers too hard with his massive thumbs. He looked sheepishly at the enraged arcade owner, who promptly ejected the Viking from the premises. Laughing, Max and Presley followed, Virgil tsk-ing behind them, as it was nearly sundown and just about the time Presley should have been home for dinner.
"It's nothing new, you know," Presley shrugged. "I'm always late. Usually out with the others saving the city. Mom's kinda used to it by now. Not that she knows what I'm really up to. She just thinks I lose track of time a lot."
"And so you do," came a voice from behind them. Everyone's battle reflexes snapped at the closeness of an unknown quantity; Max and Presley both whirled around, poised to attack, defend, or flee, depending on the circumstances, Virgil discreetly placed himself in front of the boys, and Norman spun around rapidly, put all of them at his back, and drew his sword despite the crowded sidewalk. Before actually striking a blow, Norman was able to recognize Ja-Kal, mildly disguised by a pair of jeans, a blue sweater, and a hat. Adrenaline ebbed, and Norman lowered his weapon and the fire went out of his eyes, though he remained alert and twitchy.
"What are you doing here?" Max asked.
"Escorting the prince home," he answered nonchalantly. Presley looked unsurprised.
"Are the others with you?" Virgil inquired, having quickly recovered from the surprise. No one else had noticed how the ancient fowl had unconsciously put Max and Presley behind him, to protect them from danger if it was needed. Smiling to himself, Virgil felt irrationally proud; his instinct to look after his charges had won out over the basic and inborn drive to survive. While not a warrior, he knew in the depth of his heart that he, like Norman , would do anything to protect Max.
"Yes, just in the alley in the Hot-Ra. Would you like a ride?" Ja-Kal answered, gesturing.
"Yeah, let's go!" Max shouted, having seen but not ridden in the mummies' vehicle. As the motley group made their way through a dark space behind the building to where the golden car gleamed, however, Norman stopped and brandished his sword once more.
"Do you hear something?" the Viking asked with a suspicious edge to his voice.
"No..." began Rath, stepping out of the car, but he was quickly interrupted.
"I do. Get down!" shouted Ja-Kal, pulling Max and Presley to the ground. At the same instant, part of a nearby wall blew out.
"Scarab," growled Norman , rushing to where the mummies' leader crouched over the boys. Shaking dust and debris off his back, Ja-Kal stood up and pushed Presley and Max to the side.
"With the strength of Ra!" he bellowed in unison with his team, who had vacated the Hot-Ra at the explosion.
"Do you ever get tired of watching that?" Max asked as the four mummies transformed. Norman stood at the ready beside them, trying not to become transfixed by the impressive, dancing power.
"Not really. It's way better than the effects in 'Star Wars!'" Presley grinned.
Suddenly, through the hole that had once been a wall, a slew of Shabties emerged, expressionless and menacing.
"I love disposable bad guys," Norman said savagely.
"Perhaps now is not the best moment to discuss this," Virgil hazarded, gesturing to them and maneuvering around a fallen block of wall. "I believe we are going to need more open space for this confrontation..."
"Yeah, before the rest of the walls come down," Armon pointed out. As the words left his significant mouth, another embankment collapsed as well from across the alleyway, and the ram-avatar had to turn and lunge to catch the slab and prevent the vehicle from being smashed. A third wall began to crumble outward at the same time, as though put under pressure from within, right next to the boys.
"Mighty One!" Norman shouted, diving. His strong arms curled protectively around Max and Virgil, leaping with ease from the crumbling edifice to a safe distance. Ja-Kal did the same with Presley. The two warriors were only just in time; had they stood even a moment longer, their charges would have been buried beneath the rubble that now sent choking dust spiraling into the air.
"I am inclined to think that Virgil is correct," Rath said, emerging with Nefertina from the direction of the Hot-Ra, his snake's hood barely glinting through the dust that covered him.
"Agreed," Ja-Kal said. "We can relocate to a parking lot or something. It will give us a better chance; we can't afford to be overwhelmed," he said, glancing quickly around at the significant numbers of Shabties that were slowly closing in on the little group from various entry-points. The alleyway now resembled a war-zone more than an average part of the urban landscape, and the fighting had not even yet begun.
"Virg, got a portal or two we could use?" Max asked.
"Nothing in the immediate vicinity, Mighty One."
"Then we improvise. Why don't you guys take Presley in the car and lead the way? We'll meet you there," Max said, smiling widely.
"But what about you?" Ja-Kal asked.
"You could come with us," Presley objected. Virgil and Norman both began to nod, but Max cut them off.
"We can't all fit in your ride, even if Ja-Kal flies. I'll stay with Normie and Virgil, okay? We'll be fine. Trust me!"
Before anyone else could speak, the Shabties rushed the little group, causing them to scatter. The mummies hustled a protesting Presley into the Hot-Ra and closed the shield that Armon had preserved under the falling rock. Ja-Kal alone remained outside, taking to the air. Partly, he intended to be an escort for the others, but he also wished to ensure that his newfound friends remained well out of the hands of his enemies. As the Hot-Ra began to slowly cut a path over piles of what used to be walls, not to mention the stone-men who tried to get in the way, Max drew closer still to his companions.
"That was very foolish, Mighty One," Norman remarked, but there was a knowing smile in his eyes.
"Indeed. You could be safe with the others, but instead you risk yourself in unnecessary peril," Virgil admonished.
"Come on, guys. I wasn't going to leave you like that! Besides, they aren't as bad as the soulless Atlanteans, are they? We can take 'em!" Max said.
Truth be told, the boy-hero was tired of being coddled. Some of the mummies' over-protectiveness regarding Presley seemed to be contagious, and he wanted to cure his own friends of it as quickly as possible. Imagine not being able to have a little fun! So, reckless as his decision had been, it made Max feel better, and without his knowing it, it reminded both Norman and Virgil that whatever he might be, their Mighty One was brave, and carried a spirit strong enough to hold his own.
The Shabties finally broke over the last of the debris separating them from the remaining heroes and quickly launched an attack. Norman , of course, was more than a match for a significant number of them, and he swung into battle with a mighty cry. Virgil hung back, somewhat sheltered by an outcropping of rock, doing some quick calculations. After a few moments, he deftly evaded two Shabties and pulled, with no little effort, a small rock from the middle of a towering pile.
"Three...two...one..." Virgil counted to himself, scrambling out of the way. At the precise instant he had anticipated, the pile collapsed, rolling forward and crushing many of the encroaching enemies. He sighed, quite satisfied with the outcome of his predictions, and began to repeat the process with another, even larger mountain of rock.
Max, on the other hand, was doing his level best to enjoy himself in the fight. Taunting the Shabties was particularly amusing, as their expressionless faces remained unchanged, but they would pause so awkwardly if he confused them. The comment "your mother wears papyrus underwear" really threw them off to the point that three stood still so long Norman chopped them in half before they knew he was there. But, besides providing a fine distraction, Max also fought back alongside his friends. Finding what had once been a steel rod in the remains of a wall gave him a hard, sharp staff that he could use to block or spear anything that got too close. He also had a unique gift for crashing the Shabties into each other by his remarkable agility and luck. So, while the Mighty One was not the force of nature that Norman , or Virgil's calamities, could be, his work was respectable nonetheless. However, the fight could not go on forever; the Hot-Ra had finally worked its way through the mess and was on the street.
"How will we follow them?" Virgil asked. Max looked up and grinned.
"Follow the flying monkey...er...mummy!" he shouted. Then smiling, "I always wanted to say that."
With Norman defending the rear and Max leading the way, the three heroes from another world easily evaded the Shabties who continued to crowd into the small and now very messy alleyway. With Ja-Kal airborne and clearly visible in the early twilight, they easily followed, running after the absurdly golden car to find either safety or a better place to fight.
--==OOO==--
"You...know...I'm...not...really...in...shape...enough...for...this..." Virgil panted, after running past several city blocks with no end in sight.
"I...know...what...you...mean," Max replied gasping himself. He was really more of a sprinter than a distance runner. Only Norman seemed unaffected. Grunting and without even breaking stride, the warrior swung his young ward onto his back, piggy-back style, then tucked the Lemurian scholar under his arm.
"Wimps," Max heard him mutter as he clung to the armored shoulders. Max would have made a snarky comment in return, but he realized that Norman was actually running faster now, even toting the additional weight, and was not yet winded. He smirked. At least the big guy could boast honestly.
"That way," Virgil pointed after regaining his breath. They could see the car, moving relatively slowly for Nefertina's driving, turn right into an parking lot normally reserved for the football stadium that was not in use in the off-season. Overhead, Ja-Kal swooped low enough to speak to them.
"They are still behind, but it will be a scant fewminutes before they catch up. We could try and flee, but we run the risk of leading them back to our home. We must fight." He dropped to the ground and folded his wings as the stragglers finally rejoined the rest of the mummies and Presley.
"I eat Shabties for breakfast," Norman replied.
"They do not taste good," Armon pointed out. "You would do better with a Beefy Burger from the white stone sarcophagus." Norman stared at him, dumbfounded.
"We need a plan, a strategy, something to give us the upper hand," Rath began.
"We need to kick Tut!" Nefertina scoffed at him, her whip snaking out defiantly.
"You kick...Tut?" Max asked, groaning and turning incredulously to his friend.
"Hey, come on, it's funny!" Presley argued, spreading his hands.
"Um...to each his own, I guess," Max shook his head.
Whatever would have been the rest of the debate on differing senses of humor was cut off, however, by the emergence of still more Shabties from seemingly everywhere. They crowded the space relentlessly, filing in until there were masses of stone bodies in every direction. The heroes drew together, daunted at the sheer numbers they were up against.
"So...about that plan," Nefertina said. Rath gave her a scathing look.
"Do not fear, for the Mighty One is destined to be victorious," Virgil intoned.
"Virgil, that's not helping," Max replied dryly.
Half-listening, Ja-Kal was once again struck by the differences between Max and Presley. Both boys were incredibly brave, standing side by side in the face of so many enemies who inevitably wished to do them harm, but there was something more to the Mighty One. His choice to remain with his friends had been both honorable and foolhardy, but he had proved himself on the field of battle. He was clever and had a knack for using advantages that many tested warriors would not be aware they possessed. But it went beyond that. What had Virgil just said? Max was "destined to be victorious." What could that mean?
His reverie was interrupted, however, by the emergence of a familiar and hated form making his way through the sea of Shabties . Scarab, untransformed, stepped into the clearing formed by the surrounding stone men, Hekka and Ammut trailing after. His pasty-white face was pulled into a sneer, and the ancient wizard looked both decrepit and cunning. After moving just beyond the protecting ring of Shabties, he stopped, facing the group.
"Who's this?" Norman asked.
"That's Scarab," Presley said, as though it were obvious.
"Scarab? You mean this ancient windbag is the same as the beetle guy from last night? Oh, man!" Max laughed. "He's older than the hills! And uglier!"
"That's what you said about Jonayaiyin," Norman said quite softly. Max immediately sobered and nodded silently.
"Ah, so you are the famous 'Cap-Bearer' I have heard so much about," Scarab said coldly, turning the boy's honorific into an insult. "I must say, you could do better than these pathetic mummies for allies."
"Yeah, and you could do with a better tailor. What's your point?" Max quipped angrily. Presley snickered.
"Oh, you know, the usual. Immortality, world domination, and all that. Both of which await me, but only with the help of the soul of young prince Rapses. Therefore, I will make you all a deal: give the boy to me, and the rest can go free."
"Haven't we heard this before?" Nefertina asked.
"It's a trick," Ja-Kal declared between clenched teeth.
"It's always a trick. So what else is new?" Armon pointed out.
"Have it your way, then," Scarab shrugged. He smiled evilly, then turned and retreated into the sea of Shabties. From the crowd, his sinister voice echoed, "Take them!"
"Let's kick Tut!" shouted the mummies, launching into action. As the wave of Shabties crashed over the rest of the gathered resistance, it quickly became a mishmash of flashing weapons and magic and flying bits of enemies. Presley used his Boomer-Ra to great effect, easily slicing through arms and legs and impairing his victims. Max went on as before, utilizing his own agility to cause the Shabties to crash into each other and shatter. The mummies and Norman let loose their skills with an almost gleeful zeal. Virgil remained in the background, studying his scroll and periodically sticking out a clawed foot to trip and unsuspecting enemy at a critical moment. In spite of their significant numeric advantage, the Shabties were outgunned once the heroes had room to work.
Things seemed to be going incredibly well until, almost simultaneously, Max and Presley were grabbed from behind and restrained. The Shabties crushed the boys against their chests, locking their arms down with stony strength. Both let out indignant yells, drawing the attention of their protectors.
"Mighty One!" Norman roared, physically removing all Shabties from his path and sprinting to the side of his friend. The stone-being in question was swaying on his feet as Max rocked his weight back and forth, attempting to unbalance his captor. At precisely the right moment, Norman struck, slicing through rock but not through the Cap-Bearer, removing both head and arms. Max dropped easily to the ground, landing neatly on his feet.
"Thanks, big guy," he said gratefully before turning to return to the fight.
Meanwhile, Presley's captor had been attempting to wade through the mass of bodies and battles to reach Scarab. However, he had only penetrated a few feet when a thick cord struck him square in the back, shattering him at the waist. As his arms disintegrated, Presley fell, managing to roll when he hit the pavement and come up standing. He gave a thumbs-up to Nefertina who stood smiling.
"Good shot."
"Thank you, my prince," she grinned.
The heroes regrouped around the Hot-Ra, holding back another wave of Shabties. The recent peril of their charges reminded everyone that they could not indulge themselves in the fight forever, but rather must return to the matter at hand: the safety of Max and Presley.
"I believe a retreat is in order," Rath said, his sword whistling through the air.
"Indeed," Virgil said thoughtfully from just behind the snake-avatar. "If everyone but the Mighty One would get into the…vehicle and drive at my direction, I believe I can lead us to a solution." Virgil stumbled over an appropriate term for the Egyptian "chariot" at their disposal.
"Um...what am I going to do?" Max asked, appearing beside Virgil. The ancient fowl squirmed.
"Well, you see, there is a portal nearby that we can utilize, but..."
"Today, Virg!"
"You must perch on the hood of the car in order to open it for us. Otherwise the portal will open mid-way through the engine and cut the Hot-Ra in half. And I'm sure our new friends would be displeased if that were to happen."
"Can something that big go through the portal? We've never done it with a car before!" Max pointed out.
"No, but it is theoretically possible. I conjecture the probability is in our favor that the portal will envelop the Hot-Ra entirely and drop it on the other side still functional." Something about the tone of Virgil's voice reminded him of the way scientists sounded right before accidentally blowing something up, something they had just assured their audience should be perfectly safe.
"What's on the other end of the portal?" Norman asked, drawing near. "Better not be the ocean."
"Of course not," Virgil said, an offended shade to his words. "Simply a stretch of what should be peaceful farmland and open field in the American mid-west. We will be able to re-enter another portal nearby to return to the San Francisco area."
"Let's do it," Armon voted.
"Yeah, before any more of the Shabties show up," Nefertina said, gesturing. The crowd of Scarab's minions had thinned and appeared to be pulling back for a second wave. The heroes had a few precious moments when they were not accosted to decide.
"I agree. Let us risk it," Ja-Kal decided, jumping nimbly into his customary seat after settling Presley in place.
"I always wondered how it felt to be a hood ornament," Max commented glibly, scrambling astride the narrow nose of the Hot-Ra. The other mummies and Presley gathered on-board, squishing Norman between them. Virgil clambered up to sit behind Max to give directions.
"Please head in precisely...that direction," Virgil called, pointing with a feathery hand. His other hand was bunched in the back of Max's shirt, as his short, clawed legs were insufficient to maintain his balance on the rocketing machine. Nefertina attempted to drive carefully, not shooting to full-speed right away for once, but the starting lurch was a risky thing for the precarious perchers nonetheless.
After what seemed like the longest dozen yards in history, Nefertina doing her best to avoid encroaching Shabties, Max felt the rush of a portal prickle down his spine. A heartbeat later, the sound of thunder echoed in his ears as the Cap leapt to life and, with its inborn power, reached into empty air and opened the gateway across space. Max wrapped an arm around the very tip of the vehicle, using the other hand to hold tightly onto his Cap. Virgil tightened his grip on the Cap-Bearer's shirt as well, anticipating a particularly bumpy ride through the portal.
They were not disappointed.
--==OOO==--
In Max's history of portal-hopping, nothing had ever felt as alien and terrifying as this single trip into a portal did.
As the car shot through the whirling disc of light and energy, it suddenly seemed as though they were all in a high-speed free-fall. The portal flickered, growing dimmer, as though it were overwhelmed somehow. Max could feel the fabric of the causeway struggling to move such a large, foreign object, and he knew without knowing how or why that the portal simply couldn't handle the burden and was in danger of collapsing. The power flashed and rumbled around them, both wildly out of control and yet without the focused purpose it usually had. His stomach lurched and he fought the urge to lose his lunch as the falling sensation became even worse. The portal was literally coming apart around them!
The Mighty One was dimly aware of voices shouting behind him, but he was otherwise occupied. A sudden memory of his nearly world-ending confrontation with Skullmaster at Stonehenge flashed through his mind. He remembered hanging onto the scepter of the Crystal of Souls, and how the power of the universe had given itself to him to command. Maybe he could pull the same trick and get them through the portal safely before it fell apart. He was the Mighty One. He could control it. He had to; it meant all their lives.
Against every instinct, Max closed his eyes, turning his focus inward. Without knowing quite what he was doing, he willed the portal to sustain itself, to hold them until the end. He reached for the inborn power he knew he carried, and with his mind or his heart or his spirit, he knew not which, he tried to ease the strain on the portal's energies. Strangely, it was far more difficult than it had been at Stonehenge to channel and focus his own abilities into the forces around him. It felt something like attempting to lift an incredible weight with only one hand, but he refused to give up. After an eternity of the terrifying fall, however, he felt the portal shudder, and strengthen. A few seconds later, the passage through the portal was no more unusual than any other, save that he was exhausted beyond belief.
When the car suddenly popped out of the space between existence and fell the few feet to the ground, Max realized that, unfortunately, he did not have the energy left to hang on. The bump of the front tires on the hard earth jarred him loose, and the Cap-Bearer, with Virgil still clinging to him, flew uncontrollably into the air. He distantly heard more shouting, but he felt almost asleep, and was only dimly aware of the peril of their position. But before he could so much as work himself into a panic, he felt a strong arm wrap around him. Unwillingly, Max dropped into blackness.