The Ankh Inscription

[caonedh]

Ken Loper watched as the last of them departed through the portal to Agartha. They probably think I'm right behind them, Ken thought. Then he shook his head. They probably didn't give him a thought. He had helped them get the information they were after from the Ankh, and so now he could fade back into the background for them.

They are not your friends

Ken shrugged. They would never be his friends; he wasn't their kind of people. He supposed that it didn't help that he was quite vocal about disapproving of the way they carried themselves. But, in the end, he'd rather be disliked for who he was then liked for being someone he wasn't.

Thankfully, he had found what HE was looking for, even if they had seemed to promplty forget he was looking for something. In fact, the Portal was perched a top of it; a huge statue, very old. And in it's center, written on it's chest, were hieroglyphic markings. Since he had first found the strange writings in Tanis, he had puzzled over what they could be. His first thought had been that they were a strange form of Demotic; a shorthand form of the Hieratic hieroglyphic language that evolved when people got tired of drawing eagles and cranes all day. The problem was, it was too different; the shapes were similar, but off. And the syntax was all wrong.

If I was a REAL Egyptologist, he thought to himself, it wouldn't have taken two weeks of twelve hour days to figure that out. He sighed, but then shrugged. Maybe he could go back to school if he ever had time. It wasn't as if he was spending a lot of money; he still hadn't found a place to stay. Eating out all the time was expensive, but he could afford it AND a place to live. He just wasn't quite willing to take that step.

With that thought in mind, he wrote a quick text to his wife. Nothing crazy, just seeing if she was having a good day. She hadn't returned any of his texts for the last three weeks, but he had to try anyway.

She's the one who left. She's the one who should come back to you.

Yes, but didn't he have a part in it? He had said some things in anger, too. But she was a nurse; she had things that she couldn't tell him about HER day at work. Why couldn't she just accept the same from him? And how could she leave when they were finally making enough money to have their dreams? A big house, a family? Even thinking about it made him mad to the point of grinding his teeth. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. This was not the time. He had work to do.

Three days ago, he had had a breakthrough. The writing was not Demotic...but was a shorthand for Hieratic, nonetheless. Which meant it might have developed in a seperate community from that which developed Demotic. That led him to the Ankh.... which he believed was a site where a filth worshiping cult had built a temple. It was possible that they had been separate enough for long enough to have developed their own form of shorthand.

Ken took a closer look at the statue from the improvised ramp that led up to it's head. Filth ran down the statue like a post apocalyptic waterfall, but some of the inscriptions were visable. Yes, that was definitely Hieratic.

His phone chimed. Well, actually it rang out with an instrumental version of the theme from Final Fantasy 6. Cuz, you know, it was way more awesome then a text chime. He pulled his phone out of his coat. It wasn't from his wife, but from David. Her best friends' husband.

-Dude, you have to quit texting her. It's making things worse. She'll call you when she's ready. Don't tell her I told you that. Or my wife, either, or I'll be sleeping next to you-

Ken reread it a few times, then put his phone away. He was angry again. Not at David; nah, he was putting his head in the lions mouth there. But was he really going to be the only one making an effort?

There are other women

Yes, but who? None of his coworkers assuredly. The woman were pretty enough...some of them were outright gorgeous. But definitely not his type. They were young and spirited and liked to dance the night away. And many of them seemed to play for the other team, besides. In fact, the only person he had made any connection to was a Templar, and he didn't think that would go down well at HQ.

Way to make excuses not to move on.

Three weeks is NOT enough time to call an end to seven years of marraige, he said to himself firmly. Or, at least he thought he did. Most times now, he had difficulty sorting out The Voice from his own thoughts. Except in his dreams. No trouble sorting who from who there.

Was that writing under the filth flow? He couldn't tell, but it sure looked like it.

You need a closer look

He needed a closer look. Casting his eyes about, he started to look for something he could build a platform out of.

[caonedh]

Ken swung the weighted end of rope a couple times, then cast it up. The weight (a hunk of metal that used to be part of the staircase he was on; he didn't want to think about that) soared over the statues head and down the other side. Grabbing the other end of the rope, he went down the ramp to collect it. He did this several times, then removed the weight and tied both ends to a piece of corrugated metal (also from the ramp. Still not thinking about it). Putting his hat down and hoping that the head of the statue was structurally sound, he put his foot on the metal, grabbed another, thicker hunk of the material, and swung out.

He hit the stone surface with a grunt. Filth flowed down his back, getting into his coat. Thankfully his hat kept his eyes clear. He then summoned the blue fire down his hand and into the piece of metal he was holding. It came far more easily than he expected, engulfing both hand in metal in it's quiet, blue black light. With a grunt, he swung the edge into the stone of the statue. It went in like a knife through hot butter, blocking the flow of the filth. Letting the flame die, he cleared the residue of Filth off of the statue and smiled. He was right. The glyphs he was looking at were the same ones as on the slab he had on his desk at the warehouse. He grabbed a sealed parchment roll from his coat, and opened it up under the protective metal roof. He then took a piece of graphite out, and made a rubbing. This process took him several long minutes, but in the end, he was able to get the whole inscription.

Sealing the parchment back into the tube, Ken kicked his feet out so that the platform he had built would swing out back over the ramp. He dropped down, covered in Filth. Strangely, though, he didn't feel dirty. If anything, he felt more confident than he had in years. He had had a theory, and it had been proven right.

Yes. And now you can translate the inscription

Now he could translate the inscription. He would finally prove once and for all....

Wait. What had he been trying to prove?

Ken shook the Filth off of his hat, trying to remember what his research....entailed. He was sure it was important. He was equally sure that no one in his company would agree it was important. But it was important...he knew that.

Amenhotep II. Pharoah of the Exodus. Have you given thought to our proposal?

Of course! He was pursuing the origins of the Aten cult. How had he forgotten that? It was too bad he couldn't just talk to the Pharaoh..... and what archaeologist had not had THAT fantasy?

Necromancy. That is the key

Ken straightened. He had resources most archaeologists did not. The Illuminati employed Necromancers; modern day versions of their more nefarious ancestors, but Necromancers nonetheless. He had access to that resource. He could learn it himself. Why hadn't he thought of that before? ....HAD he thought of it before? Ken couldn't remember, but there seemed to be good and cogent reasons why that hadn't been an option before. He just couldn't remember them.

Start with the inscription. See where it takes you

Ken shrugged, and started up the ramp, to where a portal to Agartha still sat open. He'd start with the inscription. As he made his way up, his phone chimed again. Hopeful, he fished it out of his pocket. Somehow, it had managed to escape becoming TOO Filthy. He cursed at it anyway. It was from his boss.

-Check your email. Need all hands on deck for this one. Tess-

Well, he supposed it was just a matter of time before someone remembered he existed. Whatever was wrong, he was woefully sure they'd choose the shittiest part of it to assign to him. Putting his phone back into his coat, he entered the portal.

[caonedh]

Ken sat at his desk in an old warehouse, just outside of El-Merayah. He was very displeased. Seething, that was the word for it. For weeks, he had been working on this theft investigation. For some reason, they had assigned him to investigate Jenna Mercado, a blood mage who they were all scared shitless of. He had found disturbing drawings in her office, which had led him to believe she warranted a full investigation.

But when he had gone to his boss with it, she had mocked him! "You can't just ram your head through a wall on this one," she had told him. What did she know? Had she ever tried to decipher a civilization with nothing but an obscure inscription and a handful of potsherds? And doing an interview wasn't bullheaded at all! It was proper procedure in such matters. Didn't any of these people watch NCIS?!?!

Ken sat at his desk, muttering darkly. He didn't understand why he was given Ms. Mercado to look into anyway. They were all so scared of her that they didn't dare treat her like a suspect in something where all logic would clearly point to her being a suspect. So why bother? And why him?

Because you are expendable.

Because I'm expendable, that's why, he thought to himself. No one gives a flying fuck if she explodes the bald guy. All so content in their little corner of the....

His phone chimed, interrupting his dark musings. It was from Rowan, asking how his day was. One good thing about texting...it made it a hell of a lot easier to lie.

-I'm OK. Just working. How are you?-

These people are not your friends

He lay the phone down on his desk, expecting a fairly prompt response. She was the only real friend he had. Of course, that and the fact that she was female led his coworkers to give rise to catcalls of "Just kiss her already!" He was pretty sure someone had started a pool. But he was still married. Perhaps no HAPPILY so; his wife still would not speak to him. But still, if nothing else, Row deserved better.

Maybe you SHOULD kiss her. We think she wants you to.

Ken shook that thought off immediately. What he needed was something to take his mind off of work and bosses and not getting laid regularly anymore and sleeping in a cot in a warehouse in what was, literally, Butt-Fucked, Egypt. He got out the rubbing he had made of the Ankh inscription, and started converting what was on the Tanis inscription into something he could read.

[caonedh]

This is a waste of time. We should be working on the translation.

This was probably a waste of time. Ken was finally making progress on the inscription, which appeared to be some sort of Blood Magic spell. He had obtained a book from a very creepy man at Illuminati headquarters on Necromancy. He was this close.... but no. This had to happen. It should have happened weeks ago.

The door opened. Ken sat up in his chair...what had been his chair. "Hello," he said simply.

The sounds coming from the door stopped. You could hear a pin drop, it got so still. "What are you doing here?" came a quiet voice from the door.

"My name IS still on the lease. And I do have a key," he replied.

His wife walked into the room, looking distinctly wary. "You promised you would stay away from here until I was ready."

"You haven't spoken to me in a month. Near enough, anyway. I've been sleeping on a cot, waiting for you to talk to me. Enough is enough. Like it or not, I'm still part of your life."

"If you're still not ready to tell me the truth, I'm still not ready to talk to you," she said primly. "Look, I just worked a 12 hour day. I had crazy old ladies pooping everywhere, a drug addict who wouldn't keep his IV in.... I can't do this with you right now."

"You know, I don't know why you are so up in arms about me not talking about my job. You're a nurse; there's lots of things you can't tell me about patients."

"But I still tell you about my day. You just lie to me. What part of 'I can't do this right now' don't you understand, Ken?"

"You want to know the truth? Fine. I was hired by a secret society who pulls the strings on the U.S. government. I was hired after I was attacked back in February by a paranormal entity. Remember that, at least? Well, I was saved by some force that has given me paranormal powers. And now I spend every day trying to save the world."

His wife looked at him for a long moment. "Jesus Christ, you're telling the truth."

Ken sighed, and nodded. "Yeah. And knowing any of that puts your life at risk. Not just from our enemies...but from my employers. They don't take to outsiders knowing...well, anything really. Their credo is 'Knowledge is power. Knowledge is currency.' You don't give either away."

His wife still looked flabbergasted. "....so you can...what, do magic now? And how come you've lost so much weight?"

Ken hesitated. "Well, I do a lot of physical stuff. I'm actually doing archaeology, believe it or not. In Egypt. There is a cult that is trying to bring a dark demon into the world. I'm trying to puzzle out it's origins. But nothing you would call magic."

This is pointless. What are we doing here?

"Well, you're still not telling me everything," his wife said primly. Ken sighed; this was pointless. What was he doing here? She continued, "But this is more than you were telling me. Is your life in danger?"

"I heal very rapidly. Even things that would have killed me before, I can get up from," he said.

"And you don't call that magic?" she asked. Then she shook her head. "Look, I can't process this. Can't we do this later?"

No. If you insist on doing this, do it now.

"No. Look...I'm at a place where I need to make some...decisions."

Her entire face went rigid. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

Yes.

Ken sighed. "Look, I only meant that I need to decide whether or not to keep this job. My old boss, the one I liked, quit because the head honcho and her had a fight.. My new bosses....well, one's never there because he's on a book tour or doing some damned thing, and the other won't let me do my job. No one there likes me; the only friends I've made is a grimy fisherman who calls me Hatguy Brownpants and a lady I met in England. Oh, and a crazy lady that thinks she's a holy woman...but I think she likes everyone."

"So, what, if I take you back, you'll quit your job and we'll just go back to the way it was?"

"I can't go back to the way it was. I have a responsibility now. But I would like to face that responsibility knowing what our status is. Or what you want it to be."

"I don't even know what I want it to be," she said simply.

That's not good enough. This was a waste of time.

Ken's face got hard and he stood up. "That's not good enough. Not after a month. You've had plenty of time to think this out." He handed her a slip of paper. "That's a company inbox, it's the only way I can get my mail right now. If you need to send me anything, send it there."

She looked down at the slip of paper. "This is in New York. You are living there?"

"No. I've been staying in Egypt. But I doubt you want to pay international postage to send divorce papers."

He had hoped she would at least freak out at the words "divorce papers." He knew it freaked him out to SAY them. Instead, she just nodded. "If that's what I decide. And if you decide the same...well, you know the address here."

He nodded, and put on his hat and jacket. He started to say something, but stopped himself and headed to the door.

"I still love you, you know," she said to his back. "I always have."

Apparently that's not enough. Just leave

Ken shook that thought off, too. He turned to face her. "I still love you, too. But I need someone who is going to be there for me. Someone who supports me. Someone who doesn't leave me hanging for a month, and then when I put it all on the line, risk everything including my own safety... just asks me to put it off longer. I deserve better than that."

The woman he had known would have teared up at that. The woman in front of him just got angry. "And I have a right to have the man I married back. I love him. I miss him This ass in front of me....I don't even know him."

Incinerate her. She knows too much now, cuz you ran at the mouth.

Ken's face screwed up in anger. Without his realizing it, his arms began to glow with blue flame. His wife's eyes got round, but she didn't seem fearful. He reached up to the chain around his neck where he wore his wedding ring. It had never really fit his finger, and the jewelry shop hadn't been able to re-size it. He jerked the ring from around his neck, and let the chain fall free. The blue fire engulfed the gold. Never taking his eyes from her, he concentrated the blue black light into the metal. As quickly as thought, it melted like tallow wax, dripping from his fingers onto the carpet where it instantly hardened. Without another word, he went through the door and down the stairs.

Wow. Flair for the dramatic, much? But well done; that should scare her into silence and we won't have to explain any disappearances to the authorities.

Oh, shut up, he told The Voice. Christ, he hadn't heard it in days, and NOW it chimes up? As soon as he got out of sight, he opened an Agartha conduit and was gone.

[caonedh]

"It's a quiet neighborhood, Mr. Loper," the obsequitious little man said as he showed Ken around a one bedroom apartment. "Perfect for a man of science like yourself."

Ken only listened with half an ear. It WAS a nice place. Smaller than his apartment in Denver, but then, it was only him now, wasn't it? The amount that was being asked in rent was outrageous, but, he supposed, it WAS one of the most important cities in the world. His anger was still red hot about the fight, even if days had passed, but he was trying not to show that to his potential new landlord.

If you would have just incinerated her....

She was going to be a problem, Ken decided. He should have just incinerated her. But no; as the estranged husband, he would have been the prime suspect.

And also, it's murder! he thought to himself in distress. He shook his head. How could he even think such a thing?

"You ok, son? You're not on drugs, are you? Cuz if you are, you can leave now," said the man.

"No, I'm not on drugs. Just not sleeping well; an inscription is keeping me up nights."

The little man seemed to relax. "Well, I didn't think so, but didn't want a deadbeat moving in, spending all his money on blow. But any friend of Seanne's is a friend of mine. How do you know her, anyway?"

"She's my boss," he said simply.

"Is she? Is she really? And do you know if she's....available?"

Ken looked at the little man in surprise. "No. She's not. Are you sure you're the landlord?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'm not! Just an agent, that's all. So, what do you think about the apartment?"

It's a shitty apartment in a shitty city, but at least there is a Ley Line nexus near. St. Louis would be better....

Quiet, he told The Voice. "It would suit my needs....but the price is a little steep."

"Oh, I think we could knock the price down a little," said the man. God, but he made Ken's skin crawl! "If you give me your word that if Ms. Rystaad ever comes available...?"

Jesus, this guy HAD to be old enough to be her father! "Oh, I'm pretty sure she's gay," he said. Actually he wasn't; he neither knew nor cared if she liked men or not. And when the Holy Woman of Hedonism decided she wanted you, man or woman, would you stand a chance?

"Playing for the other team, huh? Fuck, that makes sense. Oh, well. I'll still shoot you that discount, if you're interested. For shooting straight with me."

Take the place and have done. Something about this man is off.

Fuck, if even the Voice was creeped out by this guy... "I'll take it, then. When can I move in?"

The little man clapped his hands together in glee. "Excellent! Let's go draw up the paperwork! You won't regret this, Mr. Loper, no, not at all!"

....what about him? Can we incinerate him?

I think we'll leave this guy to Seanne, if he's dumb enough to try something, he told the Voice. And look at the bright side; who would have thought that having a pretty girl for a boss would net us a discount?

Alright. Not like the bimbo is our worry anyway. The inscription is..

Come now, don't call my new downstairs neighbor names, he thought, as he followed the disgusting little vermin out.

[caonedh]

"So, we hear you're finally leaving?"

Ken looked up from his research to see an Orochi suit standing in front of him. He had been so engrossed in the inscription, he hadn't heard anyone come in. He didn't bother to cover his work. The idiots at Orochi would have no idea what he was working on if their top minds spent years on it. An errand boy was even less likely to be a threat. "Yes, I have arranged for my stuff to be out of here on Friday."

We feel a power about this one. We think he is a friend.

Ken suddenly felt at ease with the man. The Orochi rep similarly relaxed. "My superiors wanted me to tell you that now you owed US, but lets face it, sleeping in a warehouse isn't something we want you to owe us for!"

Ken laughed. "It wasn't fun! But send my appreciation to your superiors anyway." He shook the man's hand, and then went back to work after he left.

That symbol there....the bottom half circle....are lines coming from the top?

Hmmm...were lines coming from that sign? Yes....they were barely there, but they were there. In context, that meant that the glyph was h-mt..... In Heiratic, the glyph was supposed to represent a fertile vagina, but usually just meant "woman." Here, though, he wasn't sure....because the glyph for blood appeared near it. Egyptians had believed menstrual blood had magic capacities. But were the two phonetically linked? He couldn't tell.

One thing he was sure about, though....he was deciphering a spell. Blood magic of the oldest type.

Ask Rowan. She may know more. And she'd help you for the price of a smile.

No, he told The Voice. She has enough going on; and this could endanger her more. No, I only trust myself with this.

And us.

Not really, he thought back at the Voice. We just need each other right now.

We told you the secret weeks ago. The Necromancers. They have the key. They belong to your society. Learn from them.

But it had told him he needed to approach the Necromancers in his society weeks ago. Ken had to grant it that. And now it looked like he was going to have to do just that.

Sighing, he put away the inscription. He would approach them tomorrow. For now, he would use the solar shower he had bought from a camping store, and sleep in his little cot. First piece of furniture I'm buying, he thought to himself, is a bed. It'd be the first time in his life he had ever lived alone. That thought scared him a little bit.

Well, I never did the college thing, he thought to himself. Maybe my first night there, I'll do grilled cheese and Tomato soup. And maybe I'll invite Rowan.

You talk to yourself more than any human I've ever dealt with.[/i]

Eh, fuck off, he told the Voice. It's the only way I get any intelligent conversation. That includes you.

We'd be more hurt if that joke wasn't so old. As it is, it was just sad.