1. the goldfish problem

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𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

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chapter one


Zahra Gamal kicks a rock at her feet, waiting patiently for the bus to reach her stop. She checks the watch on her wrist, then glances up to see the double decker heading her way. She adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder Zahra pushes off the wall she was leaning against and walks to flag the bus down. It slows to a stop and she hesitates keeping an eye out for the man who was supposed to be on the bus with her. "Wait!" Someone shouts from down the street.

Zahra gives the driver and apologetic smile. "Sorry, can't seem to find my wallet." She mumbles, searching through her bag in false confusion. She finds it just as the man from earlier reaches the bus. "Cheers." He thanks her as he slips past to enter the bus. Zahra follows the man, Steven, to the center of the bus, keeping a safe distance as to not come across suspicious. She pulls out a notebook, taking notice of the way he seems tired and defeated. Steven leans his weight on another person on the bus but jolts awake as the other man jerks away. Zahra hides her smile in her shoulder as she attempts to look occupied. When they arrive at Stevens stop she follows him off the bus, blending in with the crowd. She pulls out her pen and quickly writes in the time of the man's arrival at the museum.

When Marc had asked her to watch Steven when he couldn't front she wasn't too bothered. "Follow him, he said. It'll be fun, he said." Zahra grumbles, taking a seat on the steps of the museum. It only took a few minutes before she was marching into the museum, pretending to look at the exhibit when really just glancing over at Steven in the gift-shop. She couldn't bring herself to wait around all day.

An hour into wondering around the same exhibit she feels a presence behind her. "Hiya- noticed you've been here for awhile... did you know this piece of linen decorated with blue and red stripes on the edge. It dates from around 1550 BC. When mummy bandages were not always specifically made but could be strips of household linen." Zahra nods politely attempting to seem enthused, "What about that one?" She asks, pointing at another mummy lying in a glass case. "The mummy of a young woman dating to 950-650BC. It's been estimated that a mummy like this one required about 448 square yards of linen wrappings." She leans over, looking at the crumbling and decaying mummy. She turns to ask Steven another question when he gets pulled back by a woman in the museum work uniform.

"Second time today. You aren't a tour guide Stevie." Steven looks down, disappointed. "It's Steven." The woman raises her brow. "Do your job. You're on inventory tonight." Zahra wants to say something but she's already been more involved than Marc had intended her to be. Eventually she takes her leave, taking one last glance at Steven before leaving the museum. She has exactly 5 hours to go to work before she has to come back to make sure he gets home safe.

Being a mercenary for an Ancient Egyptian god isn't all it's cracked up to be so working a day job was a requirement. The pet shop paid minimum wage but it basically filled in the blanks of her checks. She had spent most of her day in there, feeding the fish and checking in on the turtles. Not many customer but she did sell a few goldfish before her shift ended. By the time she reached the museum again Steven was making his way out, walking to a park. She follows behind, a book in hand to seem occupied. She watches as he takes a seat beside a live statue and begins talking. Her face dips into a frown, Marc at least had her to talk to but Steven had no one. It was quite sad really.

After a surprisingly long hour of Steven chatting to the statue he packed up his things and made his way back to his apartment, passing by the pet shop on the way. Zahra walks past, a few meters behind Steven giving a wave to her co-worker in the window. She watches as he enters his apartment and she waits a little longer before walking down the street to get to her place. When she arrives she pulls on her suit, waiting for Marc's text.

young god || marc spectorWhere stories live. Discover now