Ult. Wonder Woman Interlude: Death is a Cheata'

[jackalope]

Ultimate Wonder Women #9
Wonder Woman Interlude: Death is a Cheata'

Abydos, Egypt
Some months ago

The hot midday sun loomed above the couple dozen workers, most local, who were digging. It was in the outer area, not near the city, so there were only a handful of spectators watching the progress. The hole was now about six feet deep, and triple that in width. A section had been made in the centre that was roped off, containing a collection of broken pottery, bronze and copper items, and worked stone. A red headed woman, in a wide-brimmed khaki and sunglasses, was talking to a blue-shirted Egyptian man in glasses. She pointed to the far trench wall with her gloved hand, he nodded. He called to the workers, having them move their digging to the far wall.

A man in a dark-blue suit adjusted his glasses and peered down at the woman. He walked over to the wooden ladder and climbs down into the trench. She had started shovelling the dirt into a wheel burrow when he coughed.

“Dr Minerva I presume.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

She stabbed the shovel into the ground and turned to face him. Her face impatient she sighed, “Yes?”

“I am Nassor Daher; I am with the Government International Relations Agency.” He put out his hand to shake hers. She removed her sunglasses and grabbed his hand with her glove.

“Ok”

He smiled. “I understand that you are currently doing an archaeological dig currently?” He pointed around him. “It took me a while to find you, I was given the location of another site.”

She shook her head, “No, research revealed that this site was the more likely candidate for what I'm hoping to discover.” She nudged the side of the wall with her boot, dirt fell out leaving the top edge of a stone panel with deep carved lines inlaid. “And it looks like it’s paid off,” she said smiling.

He looked at the stone and then back at her. “You understand that the region is in the midst of something of a political rearrangement right now. The government cannot guarantee your safety here...”

“...Oh I don't care about that.”

He touched the top of his tie. “I see, but there are certain areas of Egypt that the government is worried may be in more danger of instability...”

“It hardly seems that there’s a lot of riots going on out here, does it?” She pulled out her shovel again.

“I understand it may seem like that now, but as a Caucasian foreign woman in an Islamic culture, in such a delicate archaeological site...”

Her eyebrow arched. “Is this about the site? Because this dig is all above board. The workers are all being paid wages and I am working in conjunction with the University of Cairo's Archaeology department. Dr Maloof here is a professor at the University, and he has the correct permits and everything.” The blue shirted man walked over.

“Is there a problem here?”

The suited man turned to him and spoke to him in Egyptian. Dr Maloof shook his head and pulled out some papers, pointing at them and replying in very fast Egyptian. Mr Daher again spoke slowly, and pointed to the workers. Barbara watched the exchange with a growing worried look. “What is he saying?” she asked Dr Maloof.

The suited man nodded and smiled at them. “What can I say? Something’s are just not meant to be.” He nodded to them, “one hour.” He turned and climbed back up out of the trench, walking off.

Dr Maloof continued to look at the suited man with annoyance whilst answering her question. “He is saying we have to stop work, there is a legal technicality that he is bringing up in terms of the permit we got and the workers we are employing.” He turned to her. “Basically he's trying to shut us down. He's got rid of the workers today, but he'll be back tomorrow with another reason why we can't continue.”

She threw he hands up. “But why?”

“I don't know. He is not who he says he was, I know that but he is a connected man.” He threw the permit papers on the ground. “He knew my wife's name. He never threatened... but he said it.” He turned away and started shouting at the workers in Egyptian. They slowly started to gather the tools together in a pile and file out.

“What's happening? What about my thesis? This site, I discovered it!”

Dr Maloof faced her, “I'm sorry. They obviously do not want anyone here. It is not worth what they will put you through.” He climbed out of the pit. “Go home, return to your job, teach.”

She stood there alone, trying to understand what had happened.

---

“...they left, they fucking left me here standing in what is possibly the one of the greatest Ancient Egyptian finds of the last decade.” Barbara kicked the sand. “I know what they're saying on the television. No I know, but I'm not just leaving here... Look I'll call you back when it's sorted. Ok sis, take care, tell Mum I'm fine.” She hung up and looked at down into the trench. A couple of hours of phone calls later and she was no closer to figuring out why she had been shut down, nor any closer to getting more workers to help her dig. The local employers were not taking her calls and the University of Cairo seemed to leave on hold constantly, trying to confirm she was who she said she was.

She brushed some hairs out of her face. She walked over and lowered herself into the hole. She looked at the top of the white granite door that had been uncovered. About a foot was above ground, and judging by the width, there was probably another 8 feet below ground. She looked at the pile of shovels. Breathing in slowly she turned, walked over and grabbed one. She started digging.

The small breezes across her skin cooled her sweat. She wiped her brow and discarded her hat and gloves. The ground had dried some, it was firm but at this depth she could manage. She squared off the edges of the hole she formed around the door, which inch by inch became deeper. Something inside her burned, a feeling somewhere between anger and pride. The whole three years of research that had led to this very spot played through her mind. She had been the youngest Professor to get tenure at Gateway University, and now with the academic freedom it allowed she had been finally able to organise this expedition. Hundreds of false starts and wrong leads had been waded through, but she had found it, possibly one of the oldest temples in Ancient Egypt, to one of the oldest goddesses.

Now she was here, alone, shovelling dirt. “...almost fitting...” she whispered under her panting breathes. Her boot slammed down on the shovel edge and she levered more dirt out.

Eventually by the time the sun had started to set she was just over five feet down. Her arms felt heavy. The air was still warm, and the horizon was red like the sky was burning. She closed her eyes and let the sound of nothing wash around her.

Looking at the white door that stood, taller than her, still partially buried, she lifted the shovel again. She stabbed into the ground. The sound of metal biting the dirt sung out, punctuated by her breathes. She lifted the dirt behind her. Her speed in digging quickened. The last three feet she dug with a furious energy, discarding her shovel behind her, when the first bottom corner was revealed, dropping on to her knees and scraping the edges with her hands, pulling the final layer of dirt away. She stepped back; she could only faintly make out the carved lines in the darkness.

She scrambled out of the hole she had dug, up the ladder and to her Ute. Fumbling for her keys she opened the back seat pulling out two torches, one larger than the other. She climbed back into the trench and moved the ladder into the new hole she had created. She set the large torch up at the edge of the hole, so it pointed downwards on an angle, lighting up the granite slab. She moved to it and let her hands brush across the carved lines, loosening any dirt still stuck to it. In the centre of it she could see the faint lines of hieroglyphics. She flicked her small torch on.

M-af-det.

She placed her hands on either side of the stone door. She pushed with her hands, then again, leaning her whole body into it, her boots dragged along the dirt on the ground. The door did not budge. She huffed and slapped it with her hands. She kicked and banged her fists. She let out a cry of frustration, as she pounded at the stone, and leant forward onto it, her red hair sticking out messily. The stone was cool, and she let herself calm as she rested her forehead against it.

“You won’t get in there like that.”

The voice startled her and she turned to where it came from, dropping the torch in her hand. Near the ladder, outside the light cast by the torch a figure, covered in black, perched on the edge of the new trench she had created. She held up her arm to block the light of the torch facing her and squinted. The light of the stars did not reflect off the figure, instead it was somehow absorbed, like a hole in space.

“Who the hell are you?” Barbara asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Just a shadow of what I used to be.” The figures voice was gritty and distorted, like that of an aging chain smoker talking through a phone line.

Barbara kept her back against the door. She tried to decipher whether the creature was threatening her, but she couldn't even get her eyes to properly focus on it. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, here, now.” The creature tilted its large head to the side, “and to offer you something.”

She felt like she being interrogated with the bright light shining at her. As if reading her mind the blurry shadow figure leaned over and turned off the torch. She dropped her hand to the side. Now it felt like she was talking to darkness. “Who are you with? The Egyptians?”

“No,” the voice replied, “I'm just with me...”

“Then, what do you want to offer me?” The question left a funny feeling inside her, like it was the start of something very important.

“A choice,” the voice croaked back. “You want to get into this temple, more than anything, but if you do everything will change. Everything. The Egyptian's have only just realised the possible significance of this site. They'll be here tomorrow in numbers, so tonight is your only chance.”

“What do they want?”

“Power, like every nation now, they are looking for an edge in the superhuman race. Being one of the most ancient civilisations they look to their myths. Already they're probably trying to track down the mythical man-hawk Khufu, and wait until Black Adam turns up. They'll probably wish they never started...”

Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and she looked at the perched shadow. “You said I had a choice.”

“Yes, the most important in your life. You can choose to go home, work, find a man you love, get married, have kids, have a family. Have a life.” The voice hesitated, “...or you can go through the door.”

“What happens if I choose the door?” she asked realising how much her life resembled a game show at this moment.

“Everything changes. Murders, births, you, the world, creation, destruction, it all stems from this choice.”

“The door.” The words came out from her before she knew what they were. The large headed figure shifted slightly, looking almost disappointed.

“Here is the key.” The figure threw her something. She caught it but dropped it immediately, wincing in pain. She looked at her hand, blood rolled out from a gash in the centre of her hand. She looked up to shout at the creature but it was gone. She looked down to see what had cut her, and absently placed her hand on the door. The door started to fall inwards. She pulled back, seeing the bloody palm print on the stone. She put her hand gently on the granite and it slowly slid open. She looked back into the night.

“It was never a choice,” she called. She walked into the entrance.

The shadow figure looked from a distance at the woman as she disappeared into the temple. “No, it seems not.”

---

She heard the door grind close behind her. In the pitch black darkness she reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter. She flicked it a couple of times until it lit. She turned on the spot, being careful not to let the light go out. To her right a wall stood, which she held the fire towards. A faded art mural showed a dark haired figure running. Trailing the light along, she saw a large spotted cat chasing the figure. Further along the cat stood atop the figure, a red heart was in its mouth, blood dripping from it. The cat ran towards the sun with its offering and drops it at his feet. His feet? The sunlight shone down on her, accepting the gift of the traitor’s heart. The cat curls up at the god-kings feet.

Barbara pulls herself back, feeling as if she had dropped into a dream. She looks at the painting on the wall. Ra stands holding a heart in his hand. The Cat headed goddess stands to his side. Mafdet. She tries to recall what she had read about her. Goddess of retribution. She hears something behind her and she spins. The fire from the lighter goes out, but she thinks she briefly catches a glimpse of the figure of a big cat moving into bushes. Bushes? She closes hers eyes and tries to steady herself. She feels the blood, warm in her hand.

She opens her eyes. The interior of the temple is lighter. From another doorway a flickering light casts long shadows of the pillars within the room. She walks towards the light. Steps lead into the next room. She looks down bloody paw prints left on the yellow stone steps, and lifts her paw to see if the blood is hers. Her hand is still bleeding. She realises she is on her hands and knees, crawling up the steps. The pillars around her are huge. She tries to push herself up onto her feet but the effort is too great. Maybe she has lost a lot more blood than she thought. She lifts her knee up and pushes herself onto the next step.

She lifts herself to the top of the step and looks over the valley. The dirt gives way below her and she slides and falls, rolling down the hill. She finds herself in the cool green grass, the moon shining down on her. She stands and looks around. There are a few trees, a few antelopes in the far distance. Then she sees the glint of eyes. Staring at her, in the distance. They see her, everything, her face, her body, her thoughts, her dreams, her sins. The huntress is looking at her, preparing herself. Barbara's heart beats rapidly, a growing fear inside her that starts to envelop her thoughts. If she does not run she will die.

She sprints, pushing her legs faster than she ever has before. She feels the wind rush around her, letting her hair wave behind her. Her heart sounds like feet running at impossible speeds. She knows that if she turns the huntress will be there, but she has to know. The cheetah jumps, leaping at her throat. She feels the teeth connect, breaking her windpipe, bringing her to the ground. She lies dying, her head lying side on, she watches the cheetah pad around to her hand. The cat picks up the hand in hers and starts to lick the wound. She takes her last breath.

She opens her eyes. She is lying on the floor in the temple. She sits up. The room is lit by a number of torches along the walls. At her feet she can see her bloodied hand prints along the floor from where she came. She looked at her hand, unmarked and uninjured. She twists, behind her a golden throne sits, both sides flanked by large statues of big cats. She wonders whether they contain mummified cheetahs. It's possible. Bast cult temples contained mummified cats, and Mafdet was replaced largely by her. Replaced. What does it mean to be replaced when you're a god? To be slowly forgotten, to starve for worship. To once have been feared, only to now be pitied.

Faint footsteps echo behind her. She turns, keeping her eyes downward, knowing one should not look directly at a god. Two golden bare feet stand ahead of her. “<What do you bring for me?>” The language is not English but she understands it.

She cannot fathom what she must answer but from her mouth the reply comes. “<Blood.>”

The feet walk around her, circling her crouched body. She looks at her own body. She is naked, her fair skin reflecting the torch light. When the goddess circles again her four paws stop in front of hers. “<What does the outside world require of me?>” The goddess’s voice reverberates inside her.

“<Retribution.>” Again the words come without thought.

The goddesses hand reaches under her chin and lifts her chin, she stands. Her touch is like sunlight. Barbara lets her eyes meet the goddesses. They are yellow and pure white, and green like the grass plains, and blood red. She has the head of a cheetah. She opens her plump perfect lips, revealing sharp white teeth and smiles at her, her nose crinkling and the freckles across her skin forming a pattern like the stars. Her black hair hangs down in small plaits ending in scorpion tales. The goddess touches Barbara's red hair gently, and the mortal cannot help but blush. “<What do you sacrifice?>”

“<My heart.>”

She suddenly realizes what she has said, but it’s too late. The goddess’s long nails trace up her belly to her chest and stop, hovering just near her right breast. The divine voice echoes around her. “< I accept your sacrifice, and take you as my servant. You shall carry me out into the world, and I who runs swiftly shall return to my place as the bringer of death and vengeance. I shall rip the hearts from the chests of the unworthy as sacrifices, and then finally bring retribution to those who truly deserve it.>” Her other hand took Barbara's shoulder. “<I take your heart.>”

Barbara was pulled forward into the goddess. Their lips met in a kiss. The Goddess's lips were the wind blowing though her hair as she ran, the taste of the sweetest blood of life, a thousand pleasures, of love and death, of destruction and justice, of lust and power. She fell to her knees. The goddess was gone. She was in a dark temple, though somehow she makes out the object in the darkness. She stood and walked, moving out of the decrepit alter room and back through to the entrance. The door was open and dawn sunlight was shining though. She walked out.

In the light she saw her legs. They were covered in a fine golden fur, marked with black spots. Her eyes followed up her body, which too was covered, out to her clawed hands. Something flicked behind her, a tail. She felt her face and touched her hair, still red. She looked to the sun. Her ears flicked, she heard the sound of approaching cars. Three black cars stopped and dark-suited men got out, including the man from the day before.

She smiled. Sacrifice and retribution.