a/n: And last but not least, my personal favorite of this series.
The Last Raiders of the Temple of... Chaos?
Sanzo adjusted the leather fedora on his head. Sure, it was a little impractical down here in this ancient tomb with spiderwebs and rock formations threatening to pull it off every five minutes, but it was part of his image - practically a badge of office - and he was damned if he'd take it off now. Besides, his hat-hair was probably terrible.
Behind him, the redhead screamed (for the nintieth time since they'd come down here) and clutched his arm. Damned annoying that. Put the redhead in a bar brawl, a street fight, a car chase, he was fine, but one or two (thousand) bugs, and the guy just couldn't stop shrieking like some little girl. Of course, the fact that he was now using the "panicked clutch" of Sanzo's arm as a staging ground for wandering hands wasn't helping. The redhead had no shame. Sanzo figured if he died down here, ole Red would probably be seducing the crazy, monocled Nazi who'd been chasing them before his own corpse was cold.
He shrugged off the arms, and moved boldly down the corridor, kicking aside ancient corpses and giant insects alike. He was Sanzo: bloody and dirty and hot and far too cool to be bothered by any of that. Red screamed perfunctorily at some of the more gruesome sights, but had once again fallen slightly behind - probably for a better view of Sanzo's ass. The priest - er, archaeologist - ignored him like just another fanatical cult member, and made his way to the far chamber and the stone pillars surrounding the idol on the altar.
The idol was rather lame, as idols went. Only the eyes looked to be made of gold - well, that and the crown. The rest was a dead weight of skin and bone and Sanzo didn't look forward to having to drag it out of this damn tomb. Red might finally come in handy, being if nothing else, an extra pair of hands.
Examining the stone pillars, Sanzo found the symbol he was looking for and pressed. For once all went as planned, and the pillars sank grudgingly into the floor with the sort of ancient creaking, grinding noise one expected in these circumstances. Sanzo was about to breathe a sigh of relief, when he looked over just in time to see Red, typically greedy, gingerly pulling the golden crown off the idol.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing!" he yelled, even as the golden irises suddenly narrowed to slits and the idol's sweetly stupid expression twisted into something monstrous enough to fit the patron god of an ancient death cult. Red looked from the crown to the idol, before taking off back the way they'd come. It figured he'd know he only had to outrun Sanzo to buy himself some time.
The pri- er, archaeologist had no choice but to run after his unwanted partner, mere meters ahead of the grinning idol. He had the distinct impression Red was almost happy with the situation, and he wondered if the guy had been in it with the Nazi since the beginning. Oh well, no use worrying about that now. He drew his trusty revolver in preparation for the worst, and hoped the damn hat wouldn't fall off during the chase.
At least this time there hadn't been any snakes.