A/N: Hope everyone had an awesome Halloween! We ended up with TONS of leftovers. I have a feeling I'll end up with a cavity pretty soon. Let's hope not. Anyway, here's the latest chapter – I guess the story be continuing beyond Halloween for a little while, after all!

Disclaimer: Same as always!

Chapter 4: Catacombs

"Pharaoh," Near repeated, bending down to inspect the set-square emblazoned across the video game cartridge. "That term refers to those who once ruled Egypt."

"More accurately, those who reigned during the New Kingdom," Matt elaborated. "Technically speaking, the title of Pharaoh didn't come into play until the eighteenth dynasty." He stroked the console almost lovingly. Leave it up to Mello to hunt down the hardest game known to mankind. Of course, the genius gamer relished the challenge. Vendetta was the only game he had yet managed to beat – and it was just too bad that he would never get another chance to do so.

Not after tomorrow.

Mello stared at the goggled teen. "Impressive, Matt."

The redhead puffed his chest out with pride in response to the blond's words, but then instantly regretted it. A tiny arrow of pain shot through Matt's injured front, bathing him in an unnatural heat.

"I need more water," Matt rasped, gesturing at Near. For a moment, he could've sworn that the white-haired boy fidgeted.

"There is no water," Near calmly pointed out.

Matt was bewildered. "Then what –?"

The younger man blinked owlishly at him. Matt was suddenly struck by how vulnerable Near looked, especially with his skeletal figure and chalky skin exposed. It could've been a trick of the light – his precious orange flame that flickered feebly – but there seemed to be a pinkish tint rimming the SPK leader's eyes. That was when Matt realized that it was neither water nor sweat that had dampened Near's pajama shirt earlier.

"Never mind," Matt mumbled, vaguely disturbed and feeling as though he had trespassed on something sacred. He shoved the game console back into his vest pocket before struggling to his feet.

Mello was at his side in a flash; the leather-clad blond ducked underneath his friend's arm and slung it over his shoulders to support the redhead's weight. Aside from a couple of bruises, Mello seemed to be in good condition - thanks to the tough durability of his clothes. The redhead felt a twinge of envy. Damn wool. Perhaps he should have also invested his money into leather, or even better, Kevlar.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I want to see the rest of the hieroglyphics," Matt said firmly. "I'm assuming that our current location is somewhere in Egypt, but I'd like to make sure."

Mello nodded and raised an expectant brow at his longtime rival. Lead the way.

Soon, they were slowly making their way deeper into the dark cavern and away from the apartment ruins, their tentative path lit by Matt's small but trusty cigarette lighter. As Near guided them through the gradually-sloping passage, the redhead felt a prickle of fear crawl up his spine.

No, not fear.

Déjà vu.

The trio eventually stopped in front of a large expanse of wall about ten feet high. Unlike the rest of the tunnel, this section of stone had been smoothed down to bear a vast assortment of exotic symbols and colors. Near's mouth twitched.

"I was studying some papers that Gevanni had sent me," the SPK leader explained, "and I must have fallen asleep at some point. When I woke up, this is what I found in their place."

"What papers?" Matt inquired. Mello leaned in to listen.

"Unimportant." Near's eyes glinted territorially, but the blond didn't seem to notice. Mello had instead turned his attention to the wall of foreign characters and pictures. Matt gave the white-haired teen a lingering look before doing the same. He angled his lighter toward the wall and immediately drew back in surprise.

The hieroglyphics that adorned the wall were not stained with dust or weathered with old age as he had imagined them to be. Rather, the painstakingly engraved and painted designs still had that freshly-glazed quality to them. Matt examined the polished surface with growing suspicion.

"What does it say?" Mello murmured. Unlike Matt, he had only limited knowledge of the ancient text. Matt had always been somewhat of a mythology geek; this interest had been fueled by his primary passion for fantasy-centric video games and their vivid back stories.

"Gates of the Kings," Matt translated, his burning gaze raking over the familiar hieroglyphs. "Otherwise known as the Valley of the Kings..." He hesitated before adding, "...in our time."

"I knew it," Near breathed, fingering the not-so-old sketchings in wonderment.

Mello stiffened. "What?" he demanded.

Matt took a deep breath. "We're not in Kansas anymore."

"Well, I know that much..."

"Neither are we in the twenty-first century."

There was a very pregnant pause.

"I know it sounds insane," Matt finally mumbled, "but I think you were right, Mello."

"What about?"

His shielded gaze dropped to his friend's chest, where the silver crucifix lay peacefully against the quilted leather. Matt opened his mouth to formulate a humble, carefully worded answer – Miracles are real, Mels – when he spotted a slight shift in the shadows.

Mello had noticed it as well. "Run," the blond roared, grabbing Matt's arm and nearly wrenching it out of its socket. But they weren't quick enough.

"Seize them!" came a loud cry.

There was a shout as a horde of men swathed in simple black robes rushed forward, sending the two older geniuses sprawling to the dirt floor. Near had already lowered himself to the ground, crouching and bowing his head in what Matt secretly knew to be mock surrender. None of L's successors would submit so willingly.

One of the guards – at least, that's what Matt assumed they were – dug his fingers into Near's snowy curls, yanking the boy to his feet. Matt and Mello were roughly forced to join their younger companion's side.

"State your names! What reason do you have for disturbing the Pharaoh's tomb?"

Matt almost gasped out loud when he realized that he could understand every sound that was spilling out of the chieftain's mouth. It was as if a switch in his brain had been thrown, filtering the obviously Middle Egyptian dialect into comprehensible English words. Reading was one thing, but actually understanding?

"They must be grave robbers," his second-in-command interjected.

The chieftain brandished his sword. "Take them to the Palace before His Royal Highness!"

And with that, the trio was marched away, presumably to face torture... or more likely, death itself.

A/N: Mwahaha, torture and death *gasp*

Special thanks to the latest reviewers: akatsukifan (haha yes, the entire trio is in this ^_^ and I'm glad you're liking it!), Kira the Wolf, Dai Uzimaki, MasaJeevas, Living in a fantasy

Reviews will keep the mummies away! Not "literally", of course...well, maybe ;)