THUD
Steven groans as his head lifts up from the green grass, blood spilling from his lips and his jaw dislocated and swollen. His eyes look around precariously as he cries out in pain as his jaw somehow puts itself back together, as if it was never broken.
" Oh that was weird. What happened?" He asks no one in particular, " What was that?"
Steven groans as he stands up, noticing a slight pain in his legs. He looks down at his body and doesn't recognize the clothes he wears, then looks directly in front of him and doesn't recognize where he is. Somewhere in the Alps, perhaps, but he's definitely not in London anymore.
" GO BACK TO SLEEP, WORM."
" Hello?" Steven calls out, spinning around as if to greet the origin of the voice.
" YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE."
" Yep, I completely agree," He says, eyes still searching, " Where are you?"
" SURRENDER THE BODY TO MARC."
" Sorry, what?" Steven asks as his mind tries to wrap around what he's hearing, " The body... what? Surrender the body? What body?"
" OH, THE IDIOT'S IN CONTROL."
The voice sounds pained and filled with annoyance.
Steven reaches into his coat pocket and feels something inside. He wraps his hand around the object and pulls out a small golden scarab filled with intricate details and markings. He holds it in his palm as his head straightens, but the hairs on his body all stand up as he feels an unearthly presence behind him. Steven quickly spins around, but only sees an empty field.
His eyes see a rather large and very old castle beside him, so he turns to face it. His head rolls up and up till he reaches the top of the castle where only one window lay open. He's greeted with another man staring down back and him, and he does the only thing he could possibly think of.
" Hello," Steven waves, and oddly enough, the man waves back, " Hiya."
But then, another man appears in the window and scolds the other for being distracted. They pull out their guns as if to shoot, and Steven freezes. He holds his hands up as if to say he's not a threat, but they fire regardless.
" DON'T JUST STAND THERE, RUN!"
Steven fails his arms as he does his best to dodge the bullets. He manages to run away from the castle and down a hill of dirt into a field of red roses. The men continue to chase after him, firing away but never able to land a single shot. Steven exclaims as the bullets start getting closer to him, and he hides behind a bush as if it were bulletproof. His whimpers make it easy for him to be followed as he descends down into the local town, hoping that the men will stop trying to kill him with the influx of witnesses.
Steven runs along the cobblestone path in down, always making sure to look over his shoulder just in case. He comes across an alleyway, but sees two men dressed similarly to those who wanting to put a bullet in his skull, then instantly turns around and presses his back against a brick wall. His breath comes out in panicked pants, his adrenaline coursing through his veins and sweat dripping from his brow.
If this is a dream, it's a shit dream.
He peers out from the corner to see the men walking away, then darts off down the street as the bell tower begins to sing. He turns yet another corner to be greeted by the townspeople all walking in the same direction, and this is his time to blend him. Steven acts quickly, he tugs his grey hood over his head and joins the crowd in their nearly synced march to the center of the town. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he nervously checks all the people in his surrounding area, for his life may depend on it.
The tolling bells mark the arrival of somebody important. Important enough that all the heads turn. All eyes are on his man as he makes his way down the cobblestone street, his walk sounding like a mix from his wooden cave... and broken glass? People act like this man is a God, and if not, a descendant of God. As if Jesus is walking the Earth yet again. Steven's eyes follow the man with frail blonde hair and a simple red tunic. The man reaches a fountain, and then turns to face his disciples.
" What a beautiful day. It's like we're in heaven. Only it's not heaven, is it?" The man calls out to the crowd, " It's a darkness. Sometimes it hides in our very hearts. We are here to make the Earth as much like heaven as possible. Who'd like to go first?"
A man quickly raises his hand, his voice reaching out to the preacher who motions for him to join him.
" You're a brave man. Offering your soul for judgement. Wanting to serve our goddess even before she wakes," The leader says as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs the poor mans hands with his cane resting between them, " I judge you in Ammit's name with but a fraction of her power," the cane begins to swing back and forth as the tattoo on the leader's forearm moves as well. The scales held by crocodile heads swing, until they're lit green as the balance with one another, "This is the face of a good man."
The crowd all celebrate this man. He led a good life. His scales are balanced. His heart is pure enough for him to continue on his path. Normally, the heart is judged in the afterlife, once the person has moved on from this physical world.
From the corner of his eye, Steven sees the two men with guns appear out from an alleyway, so he quickly turns in the other direction and hides himself further within the crowd.
An elderly woman comes up to the leader and pleads. She begs him, for she must know.
" Call me Arthur, come," The leader gracefully takes the woman's hands, " Will you accept your scales, regardless of the outcome?"
" Yes."
If only that were true. Arthur performs the same ritual on this woman, weighing her scales with his cane and tattoo, only this time the crocodile scales light red, for her scales are not balanced. The woman tries to plead her case, saying she lived a good life, but unfortunately, it is not a decision that he gets to make.
" Perhaps it's something that lies ahead. I wish you could live to see the world we make. Yet Ammitt has decided."
And with those final, departing words, the woman's life is drained from her body, scarring Steven with the image of her greyed corpse. As her body gets dragged away, one of the men who was chasing Steven kneels down next to Arthur to relay information, and Arthur does not seem happy. He stands up tall to face the crowd and speaks with full volume in his chest.
" Dua-a Ammitt!"
Right on queue, all the people in the crowd get down on their knees to kneel, leaving Steven to be the odd one out. He mutters 'bollacks' under his breath as his follows the steps and tries once again to blend in. Despite his efforts, the leader catches this.
" You..." Arthur comments, " I know you?"
" Me?" Steven asks as he points to himself and stands up once more, " Hi, uh..."
" Mercenary," Arthur grits, and suddenly the entire town is gasping in shock from his words as they all stand up.
And Steven's eyes nearly pop out of his head.
" Mercenary?" He asks as he pulls down his hood, " No, no. I'm not a mercenary. No, I'm a gift shop-ist. I work in a gift shop. My name's Steven Grant, uh... I'm trying to get back home. Back to London. London. Don't know why I'm saying it like that."
The crowd parts as if it were the red sea as Arthur makes his way towards the confused foreigner.
" Well, Steven Grant of the gift shop, will you return the scarab?" He asks as he holds his hand out expectantly.
Steven's mind takes a few seconds before it registers the man's request.
" The... the what? Oh, alright," He mumbles as he reaches into his pocket to pull out the object," You mean the, uh..."
" YOU WILL GIVE HIM NOTHING."
Steven tries to give the scarab to Arthur, but before it touches his fingers his hand unknowingly closes into a fist. Arthur's eyebrows furrow as Steven's eyes widen.
" I strongly encourage you to return that," Arthur says, desperately trying to prolong his patience.
Steven stutters as he tries to open his hand, but it just won't budge. The muscles in his face begin to strain as he puts all his energy and focus into his closed hand. He gasps for air, trying to catch his breath from the tightening of his muscles.
" Come on now. It's like my fingers are frozen," He mumbles as he slaps his hand, " I dunno, maybe it's the high altitude or something," he manages to roughly pry his fingers open, just enough to where the scarab becomes visible. Finally, Steven grabs the scarab with his other hand and holds it out for the man to take, " There, take it. So strange. Sorry, but..."
Just as Arthur reaches for the scarab, Steven's entire arm pulls away and stretches behind his body. His eyes pull back to the man who's patience is faltering by the second.
" I didn't do that on purpose," Steven pleads as his heart begins to thump loudly in his chest, " I don't know what's happening," he finds his body hard to move as he attempts one more time to give the scarab away, this time using his legs to turn his body in the correct direction.
He pleads once more for Arthur to take it, but of course, it doesn't go as planned. Steven's legs begin to march him away from the crowd, as if being controlled by someone else entirely. Arthur's men grab Steven. They surround him, all clawing for the scarab. Steven attempts to reason with them, but they don't care, all they want is the scarab. One man manages to pluck the shinny object from his fingers, and suddenly Steven's eyes roll back into his head, feeling as though he's going to pass out and fall on the floor.
He opens his eyes and expects to be greeted with the hard street, but finds himself standing up straight.
" NO, THE IDIOT'S BACK."
He sees people running away from him in fear, but doesn't know what they're scared of. He feels his hand covered in a thick liquid and turns his head to examine it, but finds his hand completely drenched in dark red blood with the scarab sitting comfortably in his palm. He nearly throws up as the scent of copper hits his nostrils as they flare.
Arthur and his crowd now stand in front of him, glaring him down in shame as he still holds onto the one thing that they so desperately need. Steven's immediate thought is to flee, and so he turns his body around to find the nearest exit, only to be met with an increasingly angry crowd. Every pathway is blocked by the followers of Arthur Harrow, and in this moment, Steven Grant feels stuck.
He feels pushed towards one of the vans and finds himself compelled to climb in.
" DON'T YOU DARE DROP THE SCARAB."
" Alright, alright!" Steven shouts at the skies above as he shuts the door and turns on the ignition.
Arthur watches Steven drives away and watches as his men quickly follow, but he can't help but let out a deep and heavy sigh, only to hear a chuckle from behind him.
" This wouldn't have happened if you did what I asked and brought the girl to me," Arthur grunts as he turns to face one of his followers.
" And what makes you think she was going to blindly follow me to the mountains?" The man dressed in all black taunts as he leans against a car.
" Maybe if you treated her with respect and thought with your brain instead of what's inside your pants... then maybe you would have succeeded," Arthur says with narrow eyes at the younger man who only smirks in response.
Meanwhile, Steven whips down the windy mountain road as a catchy 80's tune plays within the rather large cupcake van.
" What am I doing? What am I doing? I don't even have my license."
Truth be told, Steven shouldn't have survived this. Not with this many enemies and no experience with fighting nor driving.
Alas, he had a saving grace.
Every time things went horribly wrong and all seemed lost, his eyes would roll back into his head and he would lose control. For him, it was only a few seconds and he would wake up dazed and confused.
But it seems to have worked. Steven's chaotic behavior was always met with a strong savior. To him, it's all just a dream. It has to be. No way could real life be like this. Steven Grant is no hero, no... this has to be a dream.
And all the way back in the United Kingdom, Cleo groans as she's drawn out from her sleep. Her ears pick up on a noise, and won't let her brain return to its dream. She sighs as she climbs out of bed, eyes still unable to stay open all the way. She traces the noise all the way to her living room where her radio is on and playing a song from a local station.
Strange. She doesn't remember leaving it on last night.
Cleo goes to turn off the radio at once, stopping the song from playing through the air that she recognizes to be a catchy 80's hit.
Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go
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