Through a Mummy's Eyes
A Mummy fanfic by Katie Sullivan
You know the drill: Roses are red, these characters aren't mine, please don't sue me, your copyright's fine
This is essentially the story from "The Mummy Returns"
told from Imhotep and Anck-su-Namun's POV, with some added scenes in between the ones from
the movie. :-)
I owe a great debt to Max Allan Collins' novelization of TMR. I can't possibly remember ever lil' detail about the movie (I've only seen it twice!) so I referred to Collins' book to spark my memory, but the exposition is all new and the POV is radically different. I also tweaked the dialogue in a few places where I swear I remember it differently than what Collins has. Anyway, just enjoy the story...
~~ Chapter One: Imhotep's Awakening ~~
Imhotep was understandably disoriented. The last thing he remembered, he was back in Hamunaptra and all Hell was breaking loose--quite literately! Then there had been the black ooze, and then Nothing. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he knew it wasn't anywhere near as long as the last time.
Out of the void, the terrible, sacred words reached him...distantly at first, then louder and louder, with greater fervor. Consciousness seeped back. He was again in the world of the living.
His first thought was "Who brought me back?" Then "Why?" and then "What's this gunk I'm trapped in?"
Like a Jurassic mosquito in amber, the former High Priest of Osiris was encased in hardened Hamunaptran goo. Somehow, the strength came to him, and he pushed his way into the air--although as yet he had no need to breathe--and he sprang forth like the world's ugliest chicken hatching from the world's most bizarre egg.
Waves of sensations washed over him in a dizzying blur. Men chanting in the old tongue... The flicker of torchlight... A large, dark room... An odd little man reading from what was unmistakably the Book of the Dead... The familiar language would have been music to his ears--if he had had any.
Then the chanting stopped, and the red-robed figures dropped into obeisant postures. A welcome change from his previous reanimation, he thought, alone in a ruined tomb...
First things first. When was it? "What is the year?" he heard himself ask, his voice roaring and rasping in that way that unnerved even him.
The man with the Book spoke up, uneasily using the Old Tongue. "My Lord, it is the Year of the Scorpion."
A little more vague than what he had hoped for, but--wait a minute--the Year of the Scorpion? "Truly?"
But before he could contemplate the implications of this any further, a vivid sensation hit him like a wall. Her.
He turned to look down the adjoining corridor. And there she was.
At least, it looked like her. But he wasn't going to jump to any conclusions. The last time he returned, he had assumed the first woman he saw was Anck-su-Namun, and see how that escapade turned out!
He blinked and studied the woman carefully as she approached with sure, lithe, sensuous strides. Her clothes were unfamiliar, black and dripping with jewelry. But her face, her hair, her aura... There was no mistaking his beloved. It was indeed Anck-su-Namun.
Imhotep was speechless. In some ways, it seemed like only hours ago she was a ragged mummy like himself, struggling for life against a horde of ill-advised soldier mummies. Yet here she was in the flesh, alive and vibrant. Had he possessed tear ducts, he might have wept. As it was, he merely stared.
The man with the Book spoke to the woman in the tongue of that infernal O'Connell man. "Do not be frightened."
"I am not afraid," she said in the same foreign tongue, never taking her eyes off Imhotep. Then she switched back to the Old Tongue. "I am Anck-su-Namun reincarnated."
He wanted to embrace her, but, despite her denial of fear, he wasn't sure how she'd react to being hugged by a rotting mummy. So he kept on staring. But wait...there was something not quite right. She was Anck-su-Namun in appearance, and that sparkle in her eyes was the same...but her soul was incomplete. She was merely a part of his Anck-su-Namun. "Only in body," he said, managing at last to both speak and smile. "But soon...I shall bring back your soul from the underworld, and our love shall once again be whole."
She smiled back, understanding. "I have a gift for you."
"A gift?" he echoed. Gee, and he hadn't brought her anything... And his appearance--he would have liked to look his best for their reunion. He glanced down at his rotting form and grimaced. He'd seen better days. Still, she didn't seem to notice or care.
She stepped aside and presented him with her "gift."
"Her!" he bellowed, immediately recognizing the doe-eyed woman tied to a board.
"I knew it would please you to watch her die."
Imhotep agreed. He couldn't wait to see that meddlesome trollop extinguished once and for all. "Extinguish" turned out to be an ironic choice of words, for his followers were about to dump the helpless Evelyn O'Connell into a flame-filled sarcophagus.
"The underworld awaits you," he said with a sneer--or, at least, the closest thing to a sneer as he could muster, given his lack of a face.
"You wait! I'll put you in your grave again!" Evelyn yelled in ancient Egyptian to ensure Imhotep's comprehension.
The man with the book--the curator, Imhotep was to learn--grinned wickedly. "Our thinking was, not if we put you in your grave, first!"
Evelyn was poised to fall into the flames, awaiting only the final word. Imhotep gave the order in the Old Tongue, and the woman who was almost Anck-su-Namun gleefully translated, "Burn her!"
Imhotep would have raised an eyebrow, if he had had one. This bloodthirsty vixen wasn't entirely like the Anck-su-Namun he remembered. His Anck-su-Namun enjoyed ritualized fighting and watched sacrifices with aplomb. She had a violent streak, he knew. That animalistic side of her appealed to him. But this woman standing beside him had the icy stare of a murderess. Still, he reminded himself, he had no idea what she had gone through, or what this O'Connell woman had done to her. And the fact remained that she had done plenty to Imhotep personally that gave him ample reasons to enjoy watching her die.
He never got the chance, however--at least, not that day. Because just as she was about to be tipped off the board into the fire, that blasted O'Connell man swung out of nowhere and whisked her to safety.
Imhotep and she-who-was-nearly-Anck-su-Namun uttered the same curse word: he in ancient Egyptian and she in English.
Gunfire exploded behind them.
A Med-Jai warrior was spraying Imhotep's followers with bullets
from his position high on a landing. The red-robed figures dived for cover, as did
she-who-was-almost-but-not-quite-Anck-su-Namun. Imhotep was briefly alarmed to
realize that she was not immortal like he was. Bullets were hitting him, but of
course had no effect. The towering black man threw a rifle to her, and she began
firing at the attackers along with the men.
He reverted to his earlier reaction--merely staring. What in the world...? His eyes wandered around the chaotic scene, trying to make sense of it all. Then he spotted the rugged, brown-haired man who had become his greatest enemy since Seti himself--Rick O'Connell. It couldn't be! "You!" he roared.
No. No no no. Not again. Not this time. No.
He swung around and grabbed a large black urn. When he opened it, a swirl of dark sand erupted from it. "Collect your bones! Gather your limbs!" he intoned, and the sand coalesced into four mummified soldiers, weapons in hand and looking ready for battle. "Shake the earth from your flesh! Your master is here!"
Imhotep caught a glimpse of almost-Anck-su-Namun cowering behind some rubble, clutching her rifle, her wide eyes regarding the soldiers with terror. In their last adventure, these drones had killed her before she even had the chance to recover her entire life force. Imhotep gave her a reassuring glance. The soldiers were firmly under his control this time.
He commanded them to destroy the fleeing O'Connells and Med-Jai, and with an unearthly howl the warrior mummies took off in pursuit.
Considering that situation to be under control for the moment, he turned back to the shaken woman behind him. "Anck-su-Namun..."
She managed a weak smile as he helped her up, not flinching at the touch of his less-than-skin.
He looked around at the carnage of broken furniture, bullet-pierced walls and dead red-robed men. "Let us find a more...agreeable place to talk," he said. She nodded and led him up to a parapet high on the roof of the building.
He stopped in his tracks at the sight of twentieth-century London. "Where are we?" he gasped.
He looked at her blankly.
"Uh...it's far from our lands, far to the north and west. An island nation."
"But we shall hasten back to Egypt soon, my love," not-quite-Anck-su-Namun assured him. "The curator told you it was the Year of the Scorpion?"
"And you know what that means."
"The time is right to awaken the Scorpion King and Anubis' Army."
"I have the Bracelet of Anubis. Well, not in my hands at this exact moment, but your...er, soldiers--" She shuddered. "--are taking care of it."
"So I was thinking..." She stepped closer to him, her bearing seductive. "Just maybe..." She placed a well-manicured finger on his non-existent lips and gave a cat-like grin.
"Y-You want me to to defeat the Scorpion King?"
"And use the Army of Anubis to...?"
"Take over the world, silly."
"Just think of it..." she purred. "You and me, ruling the world together, forever..."
He melted. When she looked at him with that Look, he was helpless. Always had been. "You and I...ruling the world..." It had a very nice ring to it. He grinned and ran a hand through her midnight tresses. "I think we can arrange that..."
Her coy smile blossomed into an overjoyed grin.
"I will go to the Ahm Shere and slay the Scorpion King!" he announced to the entire city, peering down from the high balcony as if he was already ruler of all he surveyed.
She-who-was-just-about-Anck-su-Namun breathed in the rain-tinted wind, smelling the delicious scent of imminent victory. "And together we shall rule the world," she said with a look that promised more than world conquest.
He leaned toward her, wishing for more reasons than one that his body were fully regenerated.
"My lord," the curator interrupted, "these people, the O'Connells, the Med-Jai leader...they have the Scepter of Osiris."
Imhotep's ragged form coiled in fury, the finer pleasures in life temporarily forgotten. He carefully reined in his temper. "By the time we reach Ahm Shere, my powers will have regenerated and I will have no need for the scepter. "
He turned back to his beautiful female companion. The Scorpion King could wait. If he didn't kiss this goddess beside him soon, he'd explode. He eased toward her gently, knowing his appearance was anything but romantic. "Trust in your love for me, Anck-su-Namun," he murmured.
The drizzly London cityscape dissolved, and in their minds they were back in the palace at Thebes. Both of them glowed with the radiance of youthful passion, gazing into each other's eyes. Heedless of the royal finery around them, the Pharaoh's favorite mistress and the High Priest of Osiris joined in a tender, heartfelt kiss. She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment, taking his handsome face in her hands.
Then the moment was over, and she opened her eyes. Gone was the sun-tinged glory of ancient Egypt and the bronzed form of her lover. She looked a little queasy when she saw the present form of the mouth she had just kissed, and he frankly couldn't blame her. "Soon, my beloved," he whispered. "Soon my body and your soul will be restored."
She nodded, her sly smile returning.
On to Chapter Two: Trials on the Rails...