The next morning, after breakfast, I was preparing for my mission to Egypt in my room. Taking into account the desert climate, I had swapped out my usual boxers for ones made of nylon to keep dry. Over that, I was wearing loose cotton clothes to help me keep my cool by creating airflow around my body.
As I finished tying the laces of my new combat boots, I stood up from the floor and looked towards my bed, where the rest of my gear was set up. My backpack was there, already packed with various supplies, extra ammunition, and of course, water, water, and more water.
In addition to my pack, I also had my new weapons laid out on the red duvet of my single bed. My trusty Beretta was lying near the pillows, with a loaded magazine next to it. Picking up my sidearm, I could feel the grips against my callused hand, worn from long hours of working in the kitchens and practicing out on the gun range in the Crucible. My other hand then slid the loaded magazine into the grip, letting it click into place before holstering the gun beneath my left shoulder.
Taking up most of the space left atop the bed was the Remington Model 700 rifle I had gotten from Red back on Solomon Island. However, its wooden stock had been replaced by a olive green polymer and alloy chassis from Accuracy International. Picking the rifle up, I slipped my right thumb into the thumbhole and brought the foldable stock up to my shoulder, staring through the new Schmidt & Bender scope mounted atop the rifle so that the view of the wall's beige paint job was magnified. Satisfied, I lowered my weapon and folded up the stock, placing it back onto the bed.
The rest of the space on my bed was occupied by a belt carrying enough grenades to overthrow a government or two. Stun grenades to take hostiles by surprise, smoke grenades of different colors, frag grenades filled with deadly shrapnel, you name it.
Glancing at the digital clock on my nightstand, I then began finishing my preparations. After putting on my grenade belt and a light jacket on to conceal it and my Beretta's holster, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and put my rifle into a golf bag for concealment purposes. It had been tricky enough getting it here in the first place without attracting the attention of any bobbies, so I wasn't looking for a repeat of the experience. Plus, the golf bag's extra pockets were useful for carrying extra ammunition.
Finally satisfied with my gear, I then headed for the living room, where Priscilla was finishing up her own preparations. She was dressed similarly to me, and she was feeding buckshot into the receiver of her Benelli M4. Her own backpack of supplies was leaning against the couch, which I knew to contain her medical supplies. However, with Avalon inside of me, they were meant largely for her.
"Hey Chase. You ready to go?" Priscilla asked as she stowed her shotgun away in her duffel bag, and I nodded. After Priscilla had finished gathering her gear, we headed out the door, locked it, and then made our way to Agartha.
The walk to the portal was as uneventful, and as I stepped into the honeyed glow of the Hollow Earth, I was already beginning to sweat. Before us, one of Agartha's giant clockwork Custodians turned to face us, steam hissing and gears whirring. I couldn't help but feel just a little bit intimidated by its sheer size, but I put aside such thoughts as I asked for directions. "Could you tell us the way to the Egyptian portal, please?"
In response, the Custodian whirred as its torso swiveled in another direction, and its great gauntleted hand raised itself, pointing to a distant branch within the great network of trees. "Okay, thank you!"
Priscilla and I then began to pick up the pace, following the path pointed out to us at a light jog. The soles of our boots made a rhythmic thud against the wood of the great branches, and I felt grateful that I had worked on improving my endurance. If I had tried something like this on my first day in London, jogging on a hot day with a heavy load on my back, I probably would've collapsed and died of heat stroke.
After a few more stops for directions, we finally arrived at the portal to Egypt, all hot and sweaty and panting. From jogging for quite a while in one of the balmiest places on — well, technically within the Earth. Come on, guys, get your heads out of the gutter.
Anyway, as we passed through the portal to Egypt, I could already tell that Egypt wouldn't be much better than Agartha. At least the air was less humid. The first thing I noticed when I stepped over to the other side was that we were located somewhere darker than Agartha. Some kind of underground complex, if the crumbling stone wall in front of us was any indication.
Our boots left intricate footprints in the sand as we strode towards the hole in the wall, and as we stepped into the tunnel worn into the stone by the sands of time, we drew our sidearms and held them at the ready. Priscilla took point, with me not far behind her, and the tunnel soon widened and opened its roof to reveal that it was part of a large, deep crack in the ground. It would've been a dead end, were it not for the set of wooden ladders, stairs, and scaffolds next to the wall.
I looked at the structure dubiously as we neared the foot of the first set of stairs. Even with Avalon to patch me up, I wasn't about to trust with my life something that looked like the art project I made with Elmer's glue and popsicle sticks back in elementary school. The creaky planks did nothing to reassure me as we made our way up, and it was only when my boots had planted themselves on the lip of the ravine that I let out the breath I had been holding.
Now that I was out of the cave and into the bright desert sunlight, I could fully appreciate just how hot Egypt was. Not five minutes in, and I was already beginning to sweat like a pig. Raising a hand to my brow in order to shade my eyes and see better, I saw stone buildings off in the distance. "Over there, Priscilla!"
"I see 'em!" Priscilla responded, and we both took off at a jog. Kicking up sand as we went, we drew closer and closer to the nearby village as we went, the sounds of gunfire and battle riding the hot desert wind. As I made eye contact with Priscilla, she nodded, and as we entered the town proper, we split up. As Priscilla made her way through the streets with her shotgun, I climbed up one of the town's crumbling structures to access its rooftops.
As I brought my rifle out from its golf bag, I had a moment to simply gaze out at the little Egyptian town. The stone bricks of the various homes scattered around town were crumbling, which spoke well of Egyptian infrastructure. The whole scene, bathed in sunlight as it was, looked like a once great theater set thrust into the spotlight. It kinda made me sad, to be honest. It didn't help that a mob of ashen-skinned citizens wielding curved swords had surrounded a group of armed personnel in white in the middle of town square.
From what I could see, only one of the group in white had a gun, while the rest wielded old-fashioned sabers. I had to hand it to them. Outnumbered as they were, out in the open, they were holding out pretty well against the horde of frothing madmen going, "Aten!" Still, that didn't mean they couldn't use some help.
Bringing my rifle up to my shoulder, I rested my head against the cheekpiece as I lined up the sights of my scope with the head of my first target. As my rifle went off, the target fell dead amidst her friends, who were undeterred by their comrade's death. The ball-tipped lever of my rifle was pulled back, and a second later, another madman went down. As Priscilla joined in on the fun, the horde's numbers were thinned until the last of them were run through by the sabers of the men in white.
Slinging my rifle over my shoulder and grabbing the golf bag, I made my way down the building to where Priscilla and the men in white awaited me. As I drew closer, I saw that they were wearing blue berets in addition to their white fatigues, and when I saw the lion pin on them, I realized that these guys were from the Council of Venice.
Talking to Priscilla was a tan-skinned woman dressed in a white coat and a gray tank top that exposed her belly button. Silver jewelry hung from her neck and earlobes, and considering the climate, I was worried that her curly, dark brown afro ripped straight from the sixties, would melt into hair gel.
"Chase, this is Amparo Osorio of the Council of Venice. Amparo, this is Chase Mercer." Priscilla said as she gestured from me to the Council agent, and I smiled as Amparo and I shook hands.
"Encantada."
"Y usted." I responded, and Amparo raised a dark eyebrow at that. "I took Spanish for two years in middle school. So, uh… Is this all the Council sent to deal with this 'great evil'?"
"Sí." Amparo said sadly, shaking her afro as she swept an arm around the center of town, where the half a dozen or so men with her were wiping their swords clean. "This is all I have — the entire Council of Venice delegation. Just a handful of armed personnel. Hardly enough manpower to deal with a situation like this. But this is hardly the place for such talk. Follow me."
Amparo then led us along with the rest of the Council personnel to one of the larger buildings surrounding the town square. On either side of the front door were glowing spheres with a sheen that shifted color from pink, turquoise, and silver. They were all suspended within magic circles, their traced lines in the sand glowing in the same colors as the floating spheres.
As I leaned forward to get a better look at the runes around the edges of the circles, I felt a hand on my shoulder stop me, and I look to see that it was Amparo. "Careful, the protections do not differentiate between friend and foe. Anything that smells of anima, clean or tainted, and the fireworks go off."
"Got it." I said, and I followed her and Priscilla inside the Council's base of operations. I couldn't help but sigh in appreciation as I entered the cool of the shady ceiling. Making our way through the entrance hall, we made a left at the end to see a round wooden table surrounded by a few appropriated chairs. Atop the table were empty cups and various ingredient containers scattered on its surface.
"Thirsty?" Amparo asked, and we both nodded as we took seats at the table. "Have you ever heard of sahlab? It's rather like hot vanilla."
Priscilla and I both shook our heads, and Amparo quickly set to work. As she made our drinks, I carefully observed her tanned hands as they moved. Milk into a heated pan, water and cornstarch whisked in, add vanilla and sugar… A few minutes later, Amparo set down three cups of sahlab between the three of us, topped with cinnamon and coconut.
Picking up my steaming cup, I took a long sip of the warm drink, taking the time to really taste it. The texture and taste reminded me of vanilla pudding, with the coconut flakes added flavor and another layer of texture. As I luxuriated in the drink, I heard Priscilla set her cup down onto the table. "So how long have you been under siege?"
Amparo sighed as she stared into the milkiness of her drink, as if trying to divine answers from it. "That was the third attack in many days. The Aten worshippers are getting more aggressive, and our defenses are under strain. We needed the help. Muchas gracias."
"Any idea as to what caused all this?" Priscilla asked.
"No, but I do know something has gone terribly wrong here, far beyond the earthquakes, locust swarms, and rain of fire." Amparo said.
She then leaned across the table conspiratorially, glancing out of the corner of her eyes as if she expected someone to pop out from the walls — a not-wholly unjustified fear. "I believe something that has been taken from this place — a dangerous artifact that may be behind the cruel wind that has brought these dark clouds upon us.
"I'm convinced that the Orochi are involved, somehow, as our definitions, their loyalties can be bought. But there's someone else, too — someone with a lot of resources and friends in the highest places. Them, I do not know…"
Then out of nowhere, Amparo slammed her hand onto the tabletop, causing us to jerk our heads up from our drinks in surprise as the stuff left on the surface rattled against the wood. "But the Council won't listen! No one listens! My reports vanish in red tape, and I don't receive the resources I need! It's as if someone is deliberately trying to slow me down, and so I dig on my own, and attract the attention of the cultists."
Amparo then sighed as she practically crashed back down into her seat, slumping slightly against the back. Her bitterness was clear to hear as she spoke. "I fear the Council may be compromised from the inside. I don't know who to trust, whether they want me to find the truth, or if they want me to bury it deep below the sand. All I know is that this is too important to bury, too important to keep secret…"
"Any idea where we should start looking?"
Amaro nodded. "Whatever it is that happened, it happened right here in this town. Normal people were turned into mindless, murderous sheep bent on darkness, death, and destruction…
She then leaned forward again, and glanced back and forth between me and Priscilla. "But like sheep, they only know how to follow. And if you follow the sheep, they might lead you to the shepherd, yes?"
Priscilla and I both made eye contact before we nodded, the wooden legs of our chairs scraping across the floor as we stood up. "Thank you, ma'am. Chase and I will begin our own investigation now. We'll be sure to contact you if we find anything regarding the cultists."
Author's Note: Sorry about the long delay in updating. A little thing called "real life" got in the way. Plus, the Crygaia Wiki I use for dialogue has been offline for weeks. Until it's back, I'll probably take a hiatus, work on conceptualizing some original stuff of my own. In the meantime, I'm still awaiting beta requests for this story, so if you want the job, just PM me. I pay in rainbows. Ciao-ciao.