Visionary Kiss I & II & III
folder
BtVS Crossovers › Misc - Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
3,172
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS Crossovers › Misc - Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
3,172
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Visionary Kiss III 7
Visionary Kiss III Part 7
HAMUNAPTRA RUINS, THE CITY OF THE DEAD, - NIGHT
A glaring floodlight glided over the desert placed called Hamunaptra, as if on the search for escaped prisoners. It made the effect of the full moon stronger, which in this starry night dipped the ruins of the town of the dead in an ivory-colored glimmer. Native workers, like gnawing parasites struck the remains of this once splendid town, the crumbled pylons, columns hollowed out, mutilated walls and statues with lions and buck heads. These remains of a brilliant society that had collapsed were now being affected by the realities of the modern age. In the temple loud wheels drove over the ground, bulldozers and cranes were everywhere.
On the edge of one of the smaller excavations within the expansive complex there were armed Men - Arabian warrior with red turbans, with loose white gowns and fluttering capes - these guarded it all, most of them looking over the workers, but some searching the desert for Intruders, who wanted to use the darkness of the night.
The Workers and the Warriors followed the lead of a little dark skinned man with his white suit and red Headgear, which made him stand out in the masses. His scarred face and the sharp look from his dark cold eyes told the lie of his gentle Behavior. With folded hands that rested on his belly, Fuad Fachry stood self-assured on the edge of a deep pit in the sand, in the pit dozens of natives worked under his supervision - and the watchful looks of the guards with the red turbans and guns - digging.
Fachry was Curator of the Egyptian wing of the British museum -the reason that he was only known as Curator - at least at this excavation.
The sound of an approaching airplane took his attention from the pit. He turned seeing, Red Willits come to a stop in his Jeep; Jacques and Spivey sitting with him in the car. The men got out, and the Curator went to meet them. The impatience in his voice making a lie his calm gestures. "Did you have success?"
"Well", replied Red scratching himself at his stubbly cheek, "this hangs."
"Do you have it? Do you have the bracelet?"
"Well.?"
A rumbling interrupted the conversation; the earth shook for a short moment. then stopped.
The three mercenaries looked between themselves warily; the Curator had no idea what had happened to them in the Temple, so he could not know that fear was now going through them. Before they had a chance to continue their conversation, there was another rumbling, the sandy soil vibrated intensely under their feet, as if an earthquake lay ahead, as if . an enormous monster was moving under the earth towards them.
Once again it stopped.
The Curator turned towards the pit, because the noise seemed to come from there. He walked to the edge of the Hole, the curious Mercenary on his heels. From below the native workers were looking at them with big eyes and open mouths. They had stopped working, exchanging anxious looks they stared at the sandy walls of the pit. The Guardians had their Weapons pointed at them, making sure that they did not move.
"Back to work!" the Curator yelled.
But they had not even time to start, in the middle of the pit formed a sand hill, getting bigger and bigger. It looked like the hole wanted to fill itself. The hill was rising like a cake in the oven. The workers moved back, looking at each other speechless. Spellbound they stood there, the shovels in the hands, staring at this wondrous phenomenon.
Then all hell broke loose.
The Hill exploded, and thousands of rancid dung beetles, known as Skarabäen, streamed out. Like a wave they inundated the pit. The flesh eating insects fell upon the workers and calmed their insatiable appetite, painting the hole with blood that seeped into the sand.
Screams of pain coming out of the hellhole filled the night, while the poor workers tried climbing up the walls. The loose sand slowed them down, hands and feet sinking in, a problem the bugs did not have. In the light of the headlights the black chitin bodies of the insects sparkled, as did the blood and exposed bones.
"Oh my god", whispered the normal cold-blooded Red.
The Curator watched all this with scientific interest, he had calculated such an incident may occur, this made it possible for him to keep his emotions under control, not that he felt much. What made him feel something was that fact that the three men at his side had gone pale and were shaking, which was quite amusing for him. It was as if they had never seen anything like this happen.
Red and his two partners had enough, as if short-circuited they all turned around and moved towards the jeep, jumping into the relative security of the car, ready to drive away.
A worker had miraculously made it out of the hole. However he was not unharmed, shreds of meat were eaten from his body, and under the still intact skin was movement: the bugs crawled under the surface.
The three men in the car screamed.
The worker too wanted to scream, but as he opened his mouth there was no sound, only a small army of black bugs, it looked like he was vomiting them.
As if they wanted to make up for the inability of the worker to yell, the passengers in the jeep screamed if possible louder.
Smiling the curator extended his hand and pushed the worker back into the pit. Then gaining safety, and moving away from the insects that had made it out of the hole. He nodded at the Guards: "NOW!"
The Guards moved without hesitating into the pit, and armed with flame throwers they forced the beetles back, noises of burning insects that burst and human screams mixing in the night air.
The wind bore the smell of burned flesh, making the Curator place a handkerchief over mouth and nose to protect himself.
While all this was going on, there was movement and the sound of excited voices from the other side of the site, announcing a find. One of the Guards pointed in the direction of the noise and the Curator saw crane holding a special treasure in its talons. It was a big rock and even this distance it was clearly visible that it was fused together with the remains of a human being - caught like a fly in amber.
The Curator forgot about the beetles, the workers that were still dieing he had already forgotten, he clapped his s lis like a small child, finally getting the best present ever. Then he ran over to the crane and its precious freight.
RAILROAD COMPARTMENT SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE CITY OF THE DEAD AND LONDON, - NIGHT
A burning feeling in the depths of her stomach made Willow open her eyes, the seal was broken. She had known that sooner or later they would find him but still her heart was beating faster. Not too long and she would see him again.
Her eyes roamed over her friends, Evey, Rick and little Alex sat together opposite her, all three of them in the land of dreams. She hadn't said to them yet that Imhotep would soon be back, and that there would be dangerous times for them ahead. The small family was still feeling the shock after the events that had taken place in the Temple, not to forget that she was still bound by her promises.
She would make sure that they would not be hurt, but she could not tell them everything.
Closing her eyes she called up the memory of his face, his beautiful face, and the dark eyes that could shine with so much love.
"This time it will be different. This time I will do everything to make sure you will understand your mistake."
HAMUNAPATRA RUINS, THE CITY OF THE DEAD, - NIGHT
"You have found him!" burst out of the Curator. "You have found our Ruler! WE have found him!"
Only minutes before there had been two other finds. The Curator's employer had already examined them in a nearby Tent; his employer was Meela Pasha and her faithful bodyguard, known as Lock-nah.
Despite her interest for the past Meela was a modern woman, simultaneously intelligent and seductive. She was tall and had long, black hair, cut ancient Egyptian style, a straight fringe and hanging down the back between her shoulders. Dressed in khaki trousers she behaved like a queen.
Lock-nah was dressed like all the other guards, serving the Curator and his mistress. He was taller than most men, his body muscular, with a rugged face and sharp dark eyes.
He had just thrown a book onto the table standing in the middle of the tent. Not just any book. It was big, improbably heavy, made out of obsidian with bronze hinges.
"The Book of the Dead" announced Lock.-nah with a sonorous baritone voice.
"It will give him life" Meela said rational "And The Book of Amun Ra - The Book of the Living - this will take it away."
As she said all this, Lock-nah, placed a second book on the table beside the black one. The book was it's golden twin, produced from similar material, in the same style and of incalculable value; the only difference, this book did not have the aura of disaster.
"We come closer to the Creature." Meela said her fingers stroking the black book. Adding, as she heard the screams from outside, "WE come much closer!"
End Visionary Kiss III 7
HAMUNAPTRA RUINS, THE CITY OF THE DEAD, - NIGHT
A glaring floodlight glided over the desert placed called Hamunaptra, as if on the search for escaped prisoners. It made the effect of the full moon stronger, which in this starry night dipped the ruins of the town of the dead in an ivory-colored glimmer. Native workers, like gnawing parasites struck the remains of this once splendid town, the crumbled pylons, columns hollowed out, mutilated walls and statues with lions and buck heads. These remains of a brilliant society that had collapsed were now being affected by the realities of the modern age. In the temple loud wheels drove over the ground, bulldozers and cranes were everywhere.
On the edge of one of the smaller excavations within the expansive complex there were armed Men - Arabian warrior with red turbans, with loose white gowns and fluttering capes - these guarded it all, most of them looking over the workers, but some searching the desert for Intruders, who wanted to use the darkness of the night.
The Workers and the Warriors followed the lead of a little dark skinned man with his white suit and red Headgear, which made him stand out in the masses. His scarred face and the sharp look from his dark cold eyes told the lie of his gentle Behavior. With folded hands that rested on his belly, Fuad Fachry stood self-assured on the edge of a deep pit in the sand, in the pit dozens of natives worked under his supervision - and the watchful looks of the guards with the red turbans and guns - digging.
Fachry was Curator of the Egyptian wing of the British museum -the reason that he was only known as Curator - at least at this excavation.
The sound of an approaching airplane took his attention from the pit. He turned seeing, Red Willits come to a stop in his Jeep; Jacques and Spivey sitting with him in the car. The men got out, and the Curator went to meet them. The impatience in his voice making a lie his calm gestures. "Did you have success?"
"Well", replied Red scratching himself at his stubbly cheek, "this hangs."
"Do you have it? Do you have the bracelet?"
"Well.?"
A rumbling interrupted the conversation; the earth shook for a short moment. then stopped.
The three mercenaries looked between themselves warily; the Curator had no idea what had happened to them in the Temple, so he could not know that fear was now going through them. Before they had a chance to continue their conversation, there was another rumbling, the sandy soil vibrated intensely under their feet, as if an earthquake lay ahead, as if . an enormous monster was moving under the earth towards them.
Once again it stopped.
The Curator turned towards the pit, because the noise seemed to come from there. He walked to the edge of the Hole, the curious Mercenary on his heels. From below the native workers were looking at them with big eyes and open mouths. They had stopped working, exchanging anxious looks they stared at the sandy walls of the pit. The Guardians had their Weapons pointed at them, making sure that they did not move.
"Back to work!" the Curator yelled.
But they had not even time to start, in the middle of the pit formed a sand hill, getting bigger and bigger. It looked like the hole wanted to fill itself. The hill was rising like a cake in the oven. The workers moved back, looking at each other speechless. Spellbound they stood there, the shovels in the hands, staring at this wondrous phenomenon.
Then all hell broke loose.
The Hill exploded, and thousands of rancid dung beetles, known as Skarabäen, streamed out. Like a wave they inundated the pit. The flesh eating insects fell upon the workers and calmed their insatiable appetite, painting the hole with blood that seeped into the sand.
Screams of pain coming out of the hellhole filled the night, while the poor workers tried climbing up the walls. The loose sand slowed them down, hands and feet sinking in, a problem the bugs did not have. In the light of the headlights the black chitin bodies of the insects sparkled, as did the blood and exposed bones.
"Oh my god", whispered the normal cold-blooded Red.
The Curator watched all this with scientific interest, he had calculated such an incident may occur, this made it possible for him to keep his emotions under control, not that he felt much. What made him feel something was that fact that the three men at his side had gone pale and were shaking, which was quite amusing for him. It was as if they had never seen anything like this happen.
Red and his two partners had enough, as if short-circuited they all turned around and moved towards the jeep, jumping into the relative security of the car, ready to drive away.
A worker had miraculously made it out of the hole. However he was not unharmed, shreds of meat were eaten from his body, and under the still intact skin was movement: the bugs crawled under the surface.
The three men in the car screamed.
The worker too wanted to scream, but as he opened his mouth there was no sound, only a small army of black bugs, it looked like he was vomiting them.
As if they wanted to make up for the inability of the worker to yell, the passengers in the jeep screamed if possible louder.
Smiling the curator extended his hand and pushed the worker back into the pit. Then gaining safety, and moving away from the insects that had made it out of the hole. He nodded at the Guards: "NOW!"
The Guards moved without hesitating into the pit, and armed with flame throwers they forced the beetles back, noises of burning insects that burst and human screams mixing in the night air.
The wind bore the smell of burned flesh, making the Curator place a handkerchief over mouth and nose to protect himself.
While all this was going on, there was movement and the sound of excited voices from the other side of the site, announcing a find. One of the Guards pointed in the direction of the noise and the Curator saw crane holding a special treasure in its talons. It was a big rock and even this distance it was clearly visible that it was fused together with the remains of a human being - caught like a fly in amber.
The Curator forgot about the beetles, the workers that were still dieing he had already forgotten, he clapped his s lis like a small child, finally getting the best present ever. Then he ran over to the crane and its precious freight.
RAILROAD COMPARTMENT SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE CITY OF THE DEAD AND LONDON, - NIGHT
A burning feeling in the depths of her stomach made Willow open her eyes, the seal was broken. She had known that sooner or later they would find him but still her heart was beating faster. Not too long and she would see him again.
Her eyes roamed over her friends, Evey, Rick and little Alex sat together opposite her, all three of them in the land of dreams. She hadn't said to them yet that Imhotep would soon be back, and that there would be dangerous times for them ahead. The small family was still feeling the shock after the events that had taken place in the Temple, not to forget that she was still bound by her promises.
She would make sure that they would not be hurt, but she could not tell them everything.
Closing her eyes she called up the memory of his face, his beautiful face, and the dark eyes that could shine with so much love.
"This time it will be different. This time I will do everything to make sure you will understand your mistake."
HAMUNAPATRA RUINS, THE CITY OF THE DEAD, - NIGHT
"You have found him!" burst out of the Curator. "You have found our Ruler! WE have found him!"
Only minutes before there had been two other finds. The Curator's employer had already examined them in a nearby Tent; his employer was Meela Pasha and her faithful bodyguard, known as Lock-nah.
Despite her interest for the past Meela was a modern woman, simultaneously intelligent and seductive. She was tall and had long, black hair, cut ancient Egyptian style, a straight fringe and hanging down the back between her shoulders. Dressed in khaki trousers she behaved like a queen.
Lock-nah was dressed like all the other guards, serving the Curator and his mistress. He was taller than most men, his body muscular, with a rugged face and sharp dark eyes.
He had just thrown a book onto the table standing in the middle of the tent. Not just any book. It was big, improbably heavy, made out of obsidian with bronze hinges.
"The Book of the Dead" announced Lock.-nah with a sonorous baritone voice.
"It will give him life" Meela said rational "And The Book of Amun Ra - The Book of the Living - this will take it away."
As she said all this, Lock-nah, placed a second book on the table beside the black one. The book was it's golden twin, produced from similar material, in the same style and of incalculable value; the only difference, this book did not have the aura of disaster.
"We come closer to the Creature." Meela said her fingers stroking the black book. Adding, as she heard the screams from outside, "WE come much closer!"
End Visionary Kiss III 7