Target: Jeremy Princeton, Graverobber (Akins Mubarak)

A slice of the blade, the spraying of blood. Such is the way of the assassin.
Akins tightens the mask on his face as the wind blows strongly around him. The stone of the rooftop is hard beneath his shoes as he kneels on the edge of the rooftop. It’s been so long since he’s been to his home country, back in Egypt. Though he’s never been to Asyut, the familiar smell of the sand and sting of the wind are a familiar comfort to him. But this is no time to reminisce, there’s work to be done.
Jeremy Princeton, an American grave robber passing himself off as an archaeologist. The bastard, defiling the dead. Ammit the Devourer will savor his soul in the Hall of Judgment.
(Ammit the Devourer is responsible for eating the souls of the dead who are not found worthy to enter Ma'at. All souls are weighed against the Feather of Truth, and if it isn’t balanced, Ammit gets them)
Akins leaps from shadow to shadow across the rooftops, dodging every pool of light that could possibly give away his location. He’s heard rumors of this Jeremy guy, apparently he has all kinds of bodyguards that follow him around 24/7. Though it wouldn’t be much fun if they weren’t there, they’re apparently nothing to turn your nose up at.
Nothing like a good challenge, Akins muses silently. He looks around at the area, frowning. He can see the Nile off in the distance, just to the East. This is evil land.
(Living to the West of a river is considered bad. Rivers are used as a pathway to the ‘Duat’, kind like the Egyptian Hell. To the west of rivers lie the Duat, and the East holds Ma’at, which is their Heaven. Because of this, Asyut isn’t exactly prime for Egyptian superstitions if you believe in the Old Ways)
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Akins runs towards the pyramid in the distance. Not one of the great Pyraminds of Giza, but a sizeable one nonetheless. Within lays Akins' newest target, no doubt poking around for some fancy artifacts still to be discovered in there. Not to mention his bodyguards. Sounds fun.
Oh, that wasn’t sarcastic. Akins will take great pleasure in this.
A grin hides itself behind his mask as he approaches the pyramid. To perform the Opening of the Mouth within a true pyramid…what an honor that would be, he smiles. Though he has mummified the dead before, and the ceremony has been done, to actually do it in a pyramid. This is like sex to him.
The base of the pyramid a stone’s throw away, Akins stops to survey the area. Two guards posted outside the entrance, one with a rifle and one with a sword. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?
Being the obnoxious assassin he is, Akins decides not to take the secret route. He walks out in the open, his sword still sheathed and his hands raised high above his head.
“I give up, you win!” Akins screams. If it weren’t for his mask, both men would be able to see his grin.
“Give up…?” one muses. “Who is this guy?”
“Wait, do you see his mask?” the one with the rifle exclaims, raising his gun to aim it at Akins’ head. “That’s the one the boss was telling him about. The guy in the jackal mask!”
“Ooooh, so you’ve heard of me?” Akins asks, striking a heroic pose. “That’s right, Anubis the mighty assassin! Never failed a mission, servant of the Gods. The one and only…”
“He sure talks a lot, doesn’t he?” the smaller one muses, drawing his sword. The wicked sharp edge of the sword grazes along Akins’ arm, threatening to tear the fabric.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Akins smirks, suddenly serious. “I suggest you let me through, and you can both live.”
“We can live?” rifle-guy laughs, pressing the end of his gun against the forehead of Akins’ mask. “Nice try, assassin. Jeremy has a price on your head.”
Before Akins can let out another syllable, the man fires his gun and sends him flat on his back. Akins falls back on the sand, his body scattering sand beneath it. The two men smirk, leaning down to pick at his mask.
“I’ve heard stories about this guy, even before this job,” rifle guy says. “I heard he doesn’t leave survivors.”
Akins pushes his hands behind him, flipping upwards and locking his ankles behind the neck of the man with the rifle. Twisting his knees, he flips his feet to the side. The sickening crunch of snapping bones rings through the air as the corpse falls to the ground. Akins jumps back, brandishing his khopesh and laughing.
“How the hell are you alive?!” the sword guy asks.
“Titanium mask. Lightweight, unbelievably strong,” he explains, flipping his blade over in his hand. “And you know, I hate to quote Jack Sparrow, but the notion that I don’t leave survivors is ridiculous. If I left no survivors, how would the legends get around?”
Akins launches himself forward. The shorter man lashes out clumsily with his sword, and Akins ducks to dodge the attack. Akins uses the hook of the blade to swipe the handle of his opponent’s sword, knocking it to the sand. Gripping his fingers around the throat of the disarmed man, he pushes him back and pins him to the stones of the pyramid.
“Where is Jeremy?” Akins growls, pressing the blade against the throat. A single drop of blood drips lazily from the steel.
“H-He’s inside, looking for artifacts!”
“Does he have any guards?” Akins ask. The man nods hurriedly, desperately trying not to cut his neck anymore on the sword. “How many?”
“J-Just three! No guns, Jeremy didn’t want any bullets to damage the artifacts. Two swords, and one with an ax,” he squeals.
“Thank you for your patronage,” Akins smiles. “Now, about the survivors thing…you don’t have to die, and I’d bet Jeremy’s already paid you. You can leave here alive if you want to.”
“No, Jeremy will kill me if I do that!”
“Jeremy has less than an hour to live, are you really worried about that? Run far and fast, before I change my mind.”
The man sprints off into the distance without another word. Akins, knowing that the area is safe, turns to the corpse and draws his peseshkaf, and kneels beside the body.
(A peseshkaf is a dagger used for the opening of the mouth ceremony. The blade kind of looks like a really long shark tooth, inscribed with hieroglyphs of the Gods Osiris and Anubis. Akins’ in particular has more of Anubis, for obvious reasons)
Akins lazily drags the dagger across the man’s cheek, frowning. No. Let him suffer in the Duat. Akins slides the dagger into his pocket and turns to the entrance of the pyramid.
Silent as a mouse, Akins slips into the structure. He pokes his head slowly around every corner, making sure the coast is clear before taking a single step into the passageway. Once a guard passed him, but there are so many nooks and crannies in this place that he managed to hide himself away before he could be spotted. Soon he arrives at the center of the pyramid, where Jeremy and his guards are sure to be located.
Sure enough, one man who fits the description perfectly is running his hand over the smooth stone walls. His fingers pass lightly over the hieroglyphs in front of him, his smile apparent. Well that just won’t do, now will it?
“You know, I don’t think you’re going to be able to sell hieroglyphic scripts!” Akins calls. Jeremy, his back still turned to the assassin, drops his hands to his sides.
“Good evening, Anubis,” the thief smirks, at last turning to face his soon-to-be-killer. As his face comes into the light, Akins is shocked to see a huge scar trace along the left side of the man’s face. His lip is cruelly lifted on one side, an ugly smirk.
“You don’t look very surprised,” he laughs, stepping into the open. Akins brandishes his khopesh once again, spinning it between his fingers playfully. “It was that guy, wasn’t it? The one who I let go. He contacted you somehow.”
Jeremy lifts up his cell phone to confirm Akins’ suspicions. Akins rolls his eyes, reminding himself to kill the man from before if he ever runs into him again.
“So, Jeremy…” Akins begins, stepping up to the hieroglyphs before them. “Have you ever heard the tale of Apophis?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t read hieroglyphs,” Jeremy smirks, stepping up beside Akins as if they were old buddies.
“You’ve picked an unfortunate profession, then,” Akins smirks. “Apophis was a great beast, the Serpent of Chaos. Apophis wanted nothing more than to swallow the God of the Sun, Ra, and plunge the world into eternal chaos. However, he and Ra were nearly even in strength, but Ra eventually defeated him. But the Gods are immortal, and never truly die. No, instead Apophis was banished deep into the Duat along with the Goddess of Cats, Bast. To this day, the two of them are still duking it out in that dingy cage. I wonder who’s winning.”
“You really believe all of this junk?” Jeremy chuckles, shifting his weight. “There’s no such thing as Ra or Apophis, assassin.”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Akins concludes. “Ah, but onto business. I assume you know why I’m here.”
“Of course I do,” Jeremy says, walking away from Akins and facing the adjacent wall. “That’s why they’re here, you see.”
Why did I not look for his guards... Akins wonders. Before any other thoughts can materialize, something hard connects with the back of his head. The room swirls around him, and fades to black.
…
When he comes to, he quickly realizes three things. One, his hands are bound by chains behind him. He’s been forced down onto his knees, his hands pressed tightly to his lower back. Two, his sword has been taken from him. And three, his mask has been stripped away. Said mask is sitting on the ground before him. His stark white hair is stuck to his forehead, which is beaded with sweat.
His entire body is racked with pain, several bruises apparent on his dark skin. One particularly bad cut is bleeding into his eye painfully.
“Geez, it’s about time you’re awake,” Jeremy teases. Akin lifts his head to scowl at the man before him. That familiar scar tracing down the length of his face. “Oh, you like the scar? Good, good… I was thinking about giving you one to match.”
Jeremy reaches into his back pocket, retrieving Akins’ peseshkaf. He traces the blade across the delicate skin of Akins’ cheek, drawing just the slightest bit of blood. Jeremy scoffs, flicking the blade to the ground in front of the bound man. Akins struggles against his chains helplessly.
“How dare you defy such a sacred tool,” Akins growls.
“Spare me the religious bull crap, I’m not interested…”
Dammit, what do I do?!
“Oh, let me introduce you to my friends,” Jeremy explains, gesturing to his two bigger bodyguards. “These two are Alex and Justin, a pair of twins from Los Angeles that I hired. They’re responsible for those bruises on your…well, everything. They’ll be the ones killing you while I head back to town to show off my latest discoveries. You three have fun. Enrico, let’s go.”
Jeremy and his last bodyguard, Enrico, walk out with a wheelbarrow of artifacts that make Akins wonder just how long he was unconscious. Alex and Justin crack their knuckles menacingly, chuckling as they turn back to me.
“You want to do it, Justin?” Alex offers.
“Nah, I got the last one. All you, man,” Justin smirks. He plants his meaty hands on Akins’ shoulders, holding him still.
“I’ll give you the same warning that I gave to the guy outside. Let me go, and I will allow you both to live,” Akins bluffs.
Both twins call his bluff, laughing wildly. When the laughter ceases abruptly, Alex roughly wraps his thick hand around Akins’ throat. Squeezing tighter and tighter, air ceases to force itself into his lungs. Voice cracking at the slightest attempt at speaking, Akins does the first thing that comes to his mind.
Bites the shit out of Alex’s hand, of course. Cheap, shameless, and surprisingly effective.
Alex whips his hand back, yelping slightly in surprise. Deciding that he can’t sink much lower, Akins takes this opportunity to headbutt Alex in the groin. Pulling his head upward, the back of his head connecting with the behemoth’s jaw. Akins throws his head backwards, connecting with Justin's groin as well. Both men stumble back, privates gripped and writing in pain.
Laughing, Akins jumps up to his feet. Akins stands to his feet and situates his bound hands in front of him. Reaching down to the abandoned peseshkaf, he clutches it between his trembling fingers. He rises the blade high above his head, and then brings it down hard into Alex’s chest. Blood erupts from the wound, a single trail of blood snaking its way out of the man’s mouth.
He took a little too much time, though, because a single hand entwines its fingers through Akins’ ghostly hair. Justin rips the dagger out of his bound hands and holds it to his throat. Akins quickly tries to formulate a plan.
“Die, bitch!” Justin screams. The man’s trembling hand fumbles the knife, causing hesitation. Akins throws his legs out from under him, his right foot flailing out and slamming into the side of Justin’s knee. A crack rings into the air due to the break, accompanied by Justin’s scream. Akin’s left foot takes a higher approach, shooting through the air and slamming against the twin’s jaw. His heat shot to the side, Akins rips the dagger from his hands, spins fully around, and slicing the dagger straight across Justin’s exposed throat. Blood rains down from the cut, spattering Akins’ face before the body thumps against the stone ground.
Refusing to honor them with the Opening of the Mouth, Akins frantically looks around for his sword. He swipes up his mask and his dagger back in his pocket, but it seems Jeremy was at least smart enough to take his khopesh with him. Scoffing, Akins hastily takes the sword from Justin and runs towards the exit. As he runs, he makes sure to strap his mask firmly on his head.
As he progresses through the pyramid, the path somehow making itself known to him, Akins quickly becomes aware of a severe cut on the back of his calf. Blood stains the back of his pants as he runs, his face dripping with sweat and the room starting to swirl. He worries that if he doesn’t get this soon, he’s going to pass out.
Bursting out of the pyramid with no attempt at silence, he scans the area around him to see anyone walking in the distance. Sure enough, only about forty meters ahead of him, Jeremy and Enrico are walking away without a care in the world. Akins knows that he’s far too slow now to catch them before they get back to town, so what should he do?!
Akins’ eyes find their way to the corpse of the man before. Beside him, his rifle is still lying there, loaded and ready to use again.
Meh, how hard can it be? Akins smirks. He’s never fired a gun before, but it’s just point and shoot, right?
Gripping the rifle in his trembling fingers, Akins finds the weight of the firearm to be awkward and uncomfortable. His fingers brush along the trigger slowly, testing its strength for when he pulls it. He lifts up the barrel slowly, aiming right at Jeremy’s back. Squeezing the trigger slowly, a shot rings through the air.
Enrico apparently heard the shot, because his head jerked around faster than Akins could have even blinked. Drawing his ax from his belt, He swings it behind Jeremy’s head easily. The sound of metal hitting metal rings through the air, and Akins knows he literally just slashed the bullet out of the air.
How the hell did he do that?!
Firing three more quick shots, Enrico spins his body around and knocks two bullets out of the air. The other catches him in the shoulder, but he acts like he doesn't feel a thing. Akins fires two more shots then, both of which are deflected.
When he tries to fire more, the gun clicks under his touch. Two more pulls of the trigger, and two more clicks. He flips the gun over a couple times, realizing it’s out of ammo and not having a clue how to reload it.
Akins scoffs and turns his head back up to check the status on Jeremy and Enrico. He gasps in shock as he leans his head back, the blade of Enrico’s ax just barely missing his head. Akins rolls back, recovering his sword and lashing out at Enrico. Enrico parries the attack, hooking the blade under his ax and pulling. Akins, now disarmed, runs forward haphazardly and tackles Enrico to the ground. The two of them fight like highschool girls for a moment, rolling around and clawing at each other’s faces, but then Enrico gets in a good punch and knocks Akins on his back. When Enrico tries to recover his ax, Akins throws a handful of sand in his opponent’s face. Enrico stumbles back, his eyes coated in sand and wounds bleeding furiously. Akins throws a quick kick to the man’s shoulder, coaxing a yelp of pain from the man. The assassin kicks his leg high into the air, and then drops it down as hard as he can on Enrico’s shoulder. He feels his opponent’s collar bone snap under his foot, and Akins knows he’s won this fight.
Just for good measure, Akins throws a few good jabs and kicks at the man’s chest. Several ribs crack and break, one kick in particular forcing the man to cough out a mouthful of blood. When Akins’ barrage comes to an end, he lets the man fall back onto the sand.
Now flat on his back, the man laughs a little bit. “You’re good, man…” he says, a thick Spanish accent apparent in his voice. “You got me, you win.”
Akins is taken aback by the man’s compliment when he may have just killed the guy. Enrico reaches his hand down into his pocket, every move he makes obviously causing him pain. He pulls out a crumpled photograph, now dotted with the blood on his hand. On the picture, Akins sees a much happier and healthier Enrico. Beside him is a woman, probably a wife or girlfriend, whose shoulders are draped by Enrico’s arm. And in the woman’s hands is a small bundle of blankets, no doubt hiding a baby. Enrico looks down at the picture, smiling weakly.
“What are you waiting for, Anubis?” he asks. “You won. Kill me.”
Akins shakes his head, removing his mask as he kneels down beside Enrico. “I find no honor in killing a defeated man. You have a family to get back to, don’t you?”
Enrico looks up hopefully, a fainy smile forcing itself onto his lips. The Hispanic man coughs again, more blood making itself known.
“I’m dead, Anubis. I can barely breathe,” he admits.
“Just hold on. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” Akins comforts. Setting his mask in the sand beside him, Akins rips off some of his sleeve to use as a makeshift bandage. He ties the fabric hastily around the wound in Enrico’s shoulder, and stands to face his target.
Jeremy approaches leisurely with his sword drawn, a curved broadsword with an intricate gold handle. On his back, Akins sees his own khopesh strapped in its sheathe. Jeremy smirks wickedly.
“You took out Alex, Justin, and now even Enrico? You really live up to the legends, Anubis,” Jeremy grins.
“You will pay for what has happened here,” Akins growls. “Defiling a pyramid, stealing its treasures. Throwing away the lives of men, good men, just for your own gain.”
“Don’t preach to me about ethics, assassin,” Jeremy scolds. “Who do you think you’re fooling? You kill people all the time, what makes you better? Your soul is forfeit, just like mine is!”
Akins brings a hand to grip his chest, right over his own heart. “You’re right,” he concludes. “Maybe my soul is forfeit. Maybe Osiris will find me unworthy, but you know what, Jeremy?”
A lone breeze rocks their bodies, both glares remaining colder than any ice in the world. “I don’t give a damn. I kill the wicked and restore Ma’at, and eradicate chaos from the world. You encourage chaos, and that makes you my enemy.”
Jeremy chuckles slightly, raising his sword to where it is only inches away from Akins’ face. “It seems we will never see eye to eye, Anubis. No words will settle this.”
“Action will!” Akins scream, lashing his blade forward quickly. Jeremy parries it quickly, deflecting the blade to the left. Akins releases the sword and lets it clatter to the sand. Akins grips the graverobber’s shoulders shoulders and jumps, propelling himself over Jeremy’s head. As he drops behind him, Akins rips his khopesh from the criminal’s back and spins it around. The familiar weight of his own weapon comforts him slightly, ensuring that Akins really can win this fight. And he has to do it quick, because Enrico is losing a lot of blood.
Jeremy flails around, his sword lashing out at Akins’ throat. Akins ducks quickly, bringing up the inside curve of his blade at the handle of the broadsword.
(The inside curve of a khopesh isn’t sharp, it’s used for disarming. Only the outside edge of the curve is sharp)
The blade clatters out of his hand and drops silently into the sand. Before Akins can blink, two daggers shoot from Jeremy’s sleeves and into his hands. He slashes out with both of them at once, Akins barely managing to block the attack.
Jeremy comes at him like a wasp, moving fast and dangerously. Akins keeps up with him blow for blow, though, and quickly knocks one of the knives out of his hands. Akins quickly realizes that he’s won this fight, but Jeremy seems intent on finishing this.
Deciding that enough is enough, Akins swipes the knife from the graverobber’s hand and presses the blade of his own weapon to Jeremy’s throat. Jeremy’s eyes widen, his hands raised above his head.
“I’ll give you anything you want, don’t kill me!” he pleads, dropping down to his knees. Akins kicks away his knife, which was surely Jeremy’s goal. The graverobber cringes as the weapon is kicked out of his reach.
We both know that you’re going to die, scum,” Akins growls. “Any last words?”
Jeremy smiles, looking up to lock eyes with his assassin. “Anubis, I thought we agreed that no words would settle our differences.”
The body falls into the sand with a thump, crimson raining down onto the ground from the fresh slit in his throat. Akins reaches into his back pocket, retrieving his peseshkaf and holding it to Jeremy’s lips.
He slides the blade between the still warm lips, running it along the inside. The tip of the blade cuts into the corpse’s tongue a bit, blood coating the dagger. Akins mutters a quiet prayer and stands.
“Judge him well, Lord Osiris. Show him no mercy,” Akins smirks. He retrieves the sheath for his khopesh and puts it on. After spitting on the body, the assassin goes to help Enrico.
The Hispanic man has lost consciousness but is luckily still alive. Akins throws the man over his shoulder, but not before returning his mask to its proper place.
Mission accomplished, he thinks.