Uh-oh. I'm at it again, amidst tweaking Softly and my website. :O Holy cows.

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Oh The Humanity.

by Angel Ruse

Written to my friend, Deana, who has lost faith in Ardeth Bay.

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The mountain was high, beautiful, majestic and utterly deadly. Snow covered the various jagged peeks and a feeling of awe swept over any onlooker so lucky as to see its foggy height. It was eternal standing beneath the sun, beneath the watch of a falcon. Floating upon the air the falcon cascaded down the cool air ever just as majestically, as if its flight was set to foreboding music that entered through the ears and both soothed and troubled the soul. With a cry the falcon swooped closer to the mountain with keen eyes and ears, listening to the breeze and the voice shouting within the heart of the mountain, so true and commanding.

"You shall not pass!!!!!"

Startled, the bird almost stopped in midair and widened its eyes. But the voice kept shouting and the music kept playing and the mountain kept sitting and someone pointed a gun at the unsuspecting bird and a shot rang out and…

And over the mountain other things were happening.

"Aren't you Greek?"

It wasn't the hardest question she had ever asked a man. Certainly not the most embarrassing, or so she thought. So she couldn't really figure out why he was having so much trouble answering. He should know his own heritage, right? 'Kokoris' did not sound French.

"No," he finally replied in a very heavy accent that did sound French. He said it with a wave of his hand and a conspicuous thrust of his hips, then settled back down onto the bench, very close and personal. Deana fidgeted nervously with the ring on her finger and tried to ignore the blatant sounds of his breathing nearby. She didn't really believe him when he claimed to be French and she let it show. "Well," he conceded, slipping back into his natural tone. "Okay, I'm Greek. A little."

Deana raised an eyebrow and looked him straight in the face. "A little?" What was he, an airhead? "Is black your natural hair color?"

His expression was intense, sensual and very grave as he rested a hand on her leg and gave a squeeze, then a yelp when her purse connected with his knuckles. Frank's heavy gun did have its uses after all. "Would you…" he breathed, his lips quivering for effect, "find it sexy if it was?"

Deana scooted away. Again she started fidgeting nervously as she waited for Frank to get out of the warehouse he was now in. Nick scooted also, his face not one inch away from her cheek as he stared intensely, unmoving and dorky. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a blur of beige, chocolate and ebony. She just wasn't feeling it. "Um, Dr. Kokoris…"

"Nick," he corrected her, still staring as his hand found her shoulder. "Dr. Nick. Or sometimes the girls like to take out the 'r' and the 'n'. You can if you want. I don't mind."

She tried scooting again, but Dr. Nick was nothing if not a persistent little bugger. "Dr. Nick," she amended and continued. "I'm married."

"Mmmmmyessssss," he growled low, his eyes hitting the ring on her finger. It gleamed dangerously as shots rang out, then stopped when his eyes found hers. "This is what is so attractive about you." He leaned closer and giggled softly. "What is it they say? One ring to rule the ba--"

"I think I get it," Deana interrupted and sighed. "I love my husband."

Nick sniffled a little and looked up at the sky. "You love him. I can respect that. But are you happy with him? Are you truly happy, Deana. I don't think that you are." Deana watched curiously as he stood from the bench, then shot his devastating eyes back down on her with much drama. His voice raised an octave as his passion built within. "You know what he sees when he looks at you, Deana? He sees an object. His possession. His refrigerator."

Her brow narrowed considerably at that. "Refrigerator?!"

Kokoris nodded ominously and tilted his head back. "Re-frige-er-a-tor. Your nights are lonesome, filled with football and beer and lonesome wanting. He asks, you serve and he continues to watch the tight shiny panted, steroid induced fantasy that life is…nothing…but…a…game." He threw himself down on the pavement before her and rested his hands on her knees. "But I see something wholly different. I see a goddess. I see something to be worshipped and adored and…I…weep." Deana opened her mouth to comment on that load of crap, but something interrupted both their tirades. A pager. Nick searched his pocket and pulled out a purple beeper, the cursed when it remained silent. "Hmmm." Another pocket gave him a pink pager. It too was dead. On the third pager she thought she heard him mutter the name 'Serena', but he quickly covered it with "Serenade me with that pager song," and grinned foolishly.

The tenth pager was a live one and he cursed again, but stood in pained acceptance. His hand found her cheek as he whispered, "I must go, my pigeon. I must save lives today…today, tomorrow and forever. Because it's what I do. It's who I am. I give…"

"Rhinoplasties?" Deana supplied sweetly.

Instead of taking it as the veiled insult it was intended to be, Nick smiled on her knowingly and nodded. "You only know me too well, creature of the night. Love you, love me, love you, baby. When I get off work I'll take you to my brother's house. He likes fish and weapons."

His tight-jeaned, waddling departure made her smirk and she thanked Heaven for small mercies. She should never have allowed him to kiss her. Never. Still, if Frank turned out all wrong…but whom was she kidding? Deana let out a soft little sigh of happiness and looked over at the warehouse with fondness. This was the man that she planned to entangle…Frankie was fine.

But her expression of bliss turned into startlement quickly as the front door burst open and Frank walked out. He seemed calm enough, so she relaxed a little. At least he was alive. About halfway down the walk she considered that might not be so for long. Without warning and in a display more dramatic that Dr. Nick's little speech the building engulfed in flames. Frank sniffed loudly, not a speck of ash on him as he came up and held out his hand. "Frank!" she gasped, looking at the destruction behind him. "You exploded that warehouse! Why?"

He shrugged and looked her over quite sedately. "It's my job. Come on. I know where a drug house is. Then we need to head off to where that hacker's hiding. I've got a sting to pull."

Deana crossed her arms. "You said you were gonna take me on a date tonight!"

Frank glanced around him and scratched his head with serious eyes. "This is a date."

Looking him up and down, Deana opened her mouth to retort, but a little something caught her eye. Something she felt would give her a little edge in her arguing and perhaps make this stoic man blush a little. "Is there a reason your fly is unzipped, Frank?"

He frowned and looked down, then gave her a soft, sweet smile that shocked her from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair. "This is the exciting part of the date, Deana. The part where I show you my gun."

Her eyes widened considerably as his hand traveled down and when he reached into the open fly, she did the first thing that came to mind. She screamed. Bloody murder. "Look at this, baby!" he cackled and a clicking sound drew her back from the precipice of horror.

Deana rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You keep a gun in your pants?"

Frank shoved it back inside, groaned and zipped up. "Doesn't every man?" He took her hand. "What did you think I meant? You…oooooh." He shook his head rapidly, causing his cheeks to make an unloveable flapping sound. "Nonono. Never that. Nehehver that."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Never?"

As they started walking towards his Escort, Frank shrugged. "Why? We have all the excitement we can stand."

*

Ardeth swiveled the chair around again and gushed, "Weeee!" It was really becoming a compulsion, actually. As the chair slowed he slung a heavily booted foot back onto the desk, gave a shove and sent himself whirling again.

"Is this idiot always like this?" a dark voice hissed from a dark, dark corner. Two blue eyes glinted darkly at Ardeth in disgust. "Stupid fool."

The Med-Jai king stuck his tongue out at his old friend and twirled again. "You're just jealous. Not that I'm blaming you for that, mind you." He polished his nails on his shirt and stopped the chair. "You know, sometimes it hurts to be beautiful. I know how that sounds, but it really does. I wish…I wish I understood life as a common man. You must have it so easy. So don't be jealous. Be thankful, my friend."

"Jealous?" retorted the shadowy voice as the form got up from his chair. He stepped into the light and pulled a cigarette out of his mouth, then pointed. "The only reason those silly bints follow after you is because of that built body you cart around like a load." Jonathan pointed two cigarette-clad fingers towards his temple and shook his head. "But you haven't got anything where it'll count."

Ardeth shrugged and twirled with a satisfied little smile. "Like I said. Don't be jealous."

Carnahan shook his head and paced. "What are you gonna do when those steroids turn to hemorrhoids, you ruddy wanker?"

Another form entered the room with a tray. "Don't fight, guys. Cookie?" Rick smiled up at both men with a weird glint in his eyes. "Look! They spell 'Frank Sucks!' when you arrange them in order."

Sticking his tongue out and pulling a knife from his jacket, Jonathan stopped and sized them both up with much disgust. Scratching the edge of the blade against his temple and eyeing Rick dazedly, he muttered, "Well, if it isn't Nancy #2. I oughta gut the lot of you like fish and leave your twitching innards on the carpet to dry out for the lawn. Soddin' bunch of babies. I just really want to kill something."

Ardeth took the "F" cookie with a joke about its effect in mind for later as his stomach rumbled. Immediately Rick turned away, tray in hand, saying, "I better go make another 'F' to replace it. We can't have it uneven." He blinked with an off little smile and slipped into the kitchen again.

"Geeeeez," Carnahan drawled, yanking a gun from his jacket and looking down the barrel as he pointed it towards the kitchen. "Sad, isn't it? He's been that way ever since he learned Evy's been raising Imhotep on purpose all along." He giggled and made a distinctive 'pccuuuuueeeewww' sound, eyeballing Ardeth's head down the barrel of his gun. "At least you're man enough to go after your little runaways, which ain't saying much, I'll grant him. But noooo. Rick just took to making cookies and lovely little doilies and the like. Sad son of a legless trollop."

Ardeth rubbed his tummy and burped, not listening to a word Jonathan spoke. "Mmm. Tastes like cookies."

Jonathan cursed.

*

"What a hunk," Lady Marcher whispered, eyeballing a hiney that ushered itself into the kitchen upon the body of a man laden with a tray full of cookies.

Lady Marxbros scoffed at the choice meat, retorting to Lady Dead-Girls-Watch, "A hunk of what?"

Lady Lula sniffed, hands on her hips, watching the little scene of her husband and the two others playing out. "My guess would be a hunk of crap, but I could be wrong."

Lady Marcher crossed her arms, firm in her belief. "Shut up. All of you. Just look at Ardeth." Shaking her head, Marcher sighed in malcontent as her shared husband began to twirl again. The ladies all watched in silence as his chair swiveled and stopped, giving them all a good view of his decidedly green pallor. The Med-Jai king had apparently decided he'd had enough, standing from his chair and stumbling away from it with a hand to the head.

"Poor baby," Lady Mommints sighed, touching a hand to the glass. With an evil glint in her eye Lady Marcher strayed her hand to her dagger with the intent of chopping it off, but stopped short when O'Connell re-entered the room with a fresh tray. "You're not gonna drool on the window are you?" Mommints chortled from beside her.

Marcher sniffed in distaste and dusted her shirt off. "I might. So, what's the plan?"

Stepping forward from the shadows and straightening mussed hair, Lady Ruse produced a piece of paper from seemingly nowhere. "What's that sound?" Lady Jessie C asked with a distrustful glance towards the trees near this little shack. "You know, if I didn't know any better…I could swear I heard Imhotep whispering a moment ago."

"It was nothing," Ruse replied with a certainty and pointed at the paper. "Imhotep indeed. He's a hoochie. Anyway, we all know our husband's problem is that pesky virginity he's been carting around. We all agree he needs to grow up, right?"

A quite disgustingly cheerful "Weeeeeeeeee!" from inside left no doubt in any of the ladies' minds. They all nodded quite seriously and winced at the "I'm gonna be sick," that followed.

"Bloody hell! Get your big hair away from me! Your bloody head looks like a hedge!" Jonathan was hissing and Lady Marxbros grinned mysteriously. Lady Karri eyed her and her smile became almost innocent. Almost. Karri felt around for her gun, unimpressed.

"Okay," Ruse continued. "So the plan is get in there, drag him out before Deana and Spank get here, strip him of his clothes and have our way with him. Any questions?" The ladies' exchanged glances and each shook her head. Ruse smiled and looked down at the lurid drawing of a naked Ardeth that Lady Wildcardgal had gifted them with, cause that's what she liked to draw best. It was quite blatant and placed him in a fairly odd position, but the most important part was there and very visible.

"Actually," piped in Lady Anya, who clutched the ring Ardeth had given her in the palm of her hand. She didn't have her question out before others converged to answer lest there be any doubt why they should help Ardeth's virginity.

Ruse opened her mouth, but Lady Marcher shoved her aside. "Because, it's like the stories, Anya. The ones that meant something to you, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think I understand, Anya. Folk in those tales had lots of chances at turning back, only they didn't. Because they were holding on to something…that there's something really hot in Ri—Ardeth's pants…" she coughed at the narrowed brows, "…in our case, that is."

"Ooookay," Lady Lula commented with a shake of her head. "Let Operation Man-Handle commence! All for one and buns for all!" She cackled madly at her humor, drawing weirded out stares from the others. "What? It was a joke? Geez."

Converging upon the house like locusts on a field, each one of Ardeth's wives found an opening in the house and began in her own fashion to break in. The poor Med-Jai did not stand a chance and didn't even know what was coming.

*

:-O ;-) Well…to be continued?? Will we steal Ardeth's virginity? Will Rick win Evy back or find love with Lady Marcher? Will Jonathan gut Ardeth like a fishy? Tune in next…whenever. :-D