Beneath the Sands

[Shades Of Gray]

Keshayla woke with a grunt, Kivan's hand slapping against the back of her calf, pushing it over to the side where she had sprawled out on the bed. Really there was no need, the bed was large enough to fit ten people comfortably. You had to give the Egyptians credit, they loved their Karma Sutra, and planned ahead; no worrying about falling over the edge on this thing. When Keshayla first spotted the four poster bed she thought that there had been a mirror besides it. The rich maroon tapestries that covered the posters to form a sheeting over head was the same rich maroon used for the bedding. The silk didn't surprise her, but the room certainly did. It was the master suite at Mena House Oberoi; what had once been a hunting lodge build in the 1800's. Now it was a tourist hotspot; tourists with alot of money.

Kivan pushed at her leg until he was able to crawl onto the massive bed besides her, pulling a laptop into view which made her turn her head with a groan, determined to look the other way. "You bastard." The Drow grinned, though she couldn't see it. She felt the smug bastard beam as if the room had just brightened. "It's almost noon," he tried to reason. She knew there was more to it than that. "Jet leg." Kivan's smile grew a few notches, and Keshayla had to close her eyes with a disgusted grunt as she felt the change again. "You slept on the plane." The Lycan slept when she can, because whenever she went out anywhere, she seemed to gather unwanted attention. It was the smirk, the "guess what I did wrong" smirk that sat on her lips, cocky and lopsided, seductive and coy all at the same time. Bar fights were common, people jumped to conclusions when they saw that smirk. She couldn't help it. It just came naturally.

She was on her stomach, arms stretched back at her sides, palms up. Her head looking off to the left, towards one of the great windows, right leg bent, pointing towards the opposite wall, and the left remained pointed straight. She looked as if that should have hurt, that it should be awkward, but like cats, Keshayla slept as if she had no spine. "I've got a job for you." She knew it. "There's been some strange things crawling about the city." She couldn't believe this. "Discribed as some sort of...insect." He had promised her a few weeks off. Vacation. Sun. Sleep. "So far it's killed seven people, and the press managed to get a shot of it." He knew he couldn't drag her to Cairo without false pretenses.

An eye opened as the lighting shifted, and she was looking at a photo with gloss mate. She had to lean back to make out the photo, since it was sitting too close to her face. Then she frowned. "That's an ugly fucker, isn't it?" It looked like a scarab, with longer legs that jutted from the body and it's tough shell. Black, but with the photo there was also a transluscent blue and green; it reminded her of oil. Where the eyes should have been were white sockets, a wicked mouth that had sharp edges that would work as teeth, but the unsettling thing was the size. She couldn't tell right from the photo, but it looked as if it would be between the sizes of a very large dog, or a small horse. "No."

"Come on, Keshayla. It's just a bug." Just a bug? She was supposed to be on vacation. "You go get it then, you lazy cunt! You promised me a vacation." Kivan snatched the photo away before she could take it from him. "I can't: it appears that some researchers went missing; I got a call from some connections, and they need me to go take a look at it." She scowled at him, but knew rather long ago that she had no choice in the issue; as much as she would have liked. "Go on. At least take a walk through the city for awhile, alright? We'll meet back here for dinner, and I'll take you to Al Ruayyat." When all else fails: bribe her with food.

 

[Survivor00]

â??Godâ?¦damn itâ?¦â?

Adrian huffed from exertion and wiped the beads of sweat that had collected on his forehead with his arm. Cracking his stiff back, he reached down and grabbed the sledgehammerâ??s worn handle once again. Hefting the tool up over his head, he swung it down and knocked another thick chunk off the concrete slab he was gradually breaking apart. He reached down and lifted the chunk from the ground, dropping it into a flimsy metal wheelbarrow, nearly filled with chunks of masonry. The skinny, tired looking man pushing it wheeled it away, carrying it off to be dumped somewhere else. The air surrounding the demolition site was choked with a thick cloud of grey dust that covered everything, making the numerous workers appear like dirty phantoms. Adrian coughed, wiping his eyes and looking out towards the crowds that bustled in the neighboring streets.

The former US infantryman had been living in Cairo for several months, taking whatever jobs that he could to keep himself fed and off the streets. There wasnâ??t much else that he could do, he could never return to the States again, not if he didnâ??t want to end up with a lethal injection with his name on it. He still had nightmares of the things he had seen, things that nobody but him believed they saw. According to those who judged him, he was a traitor, a man who had turned against his fellow soldiers, he was beyond saving. Adrian had known that a firing squad would have awaited him if he had allowed himself to remain in captivity at the base, so he ran. He had spent months running, hitching rides from Afghanistan all the way to Egypt, running as far away as he could. He pounded another chunk of concrete away, and lifted it into a waiting wheelbarrow, again and again, running on a personal autopilot.

It was backbreaking labor, and he got crap wages for it, but he could live off of itâ?¦ He heard a shrill whistle rise up over the noise of jackhammers and breaking concrete, and he dropped the heavy sledgehammer, feeling his arms and back aching. Lunch break. Finally. He slapped his dirty hands on his pants, trying to clean as much of the thick dust away before wandering off. He hopped over a half-demolished wall and into the street beyond, slipping into the crowd on the way to the Bazaar. He reached into his pocket, holding onto his wallet so it didnâ??t get swiped by some punks. He didnâ??t have much on him, but it would be enough to get a sandwich and a cool drink into his stomach, and that was enough for him.

The city of eight million was the largest and most advanced city in Africa, but it was also one of the worst polluted and most crowded. The skyline was blurred with thick smog that only seemed to trap the heat of the day, making it feel almost hard to breathe at times. He had gotten somewhat used to it after living here, but it was something he didnâ??t think he would ever fully get used to it. He was just glad he was working in the older parts of the city, away from the blinding skyscrapers and traffic-clogged streets.

The Khan el-Khalili Bazaar was one of older locations in the city, built sometime back in the 1300s, but it was still a popular location for tourists and locals. In the distance, he could hear the call from the al-Hussein Mosque, announcing the preparation for noontime prayer. Stopping at one of the market kiosks, he calmly ordered a sandwich, paying the vendor and walking over to lean against one of the walls. The bricks were hot against his back, but it wasnâ??t unbearable. He bit into the sandwich, chewing appreciatively as he looked at the people walking about the market. So many of them tourists. He shook his head and finished his sandwich, checking his wallet quickly to see if he would have enough to get a beer before heading back to the demolition site. He had just enoughâ?¦

Crumpling the paper wrapping for his sandwich into a ball, he dropped it into a trash can and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked.

 

[Shades Of Gray]

Khan el-Khalili was just as she remembered; filled to bursting with people trying to manage their way through the veins of dirt alleys. Stalls and venues stacked along either side, filled with a variety of useless objects of color and size. Hookas, clothes, persian rugs, bootlegged cassettes, dvds and cds. Then, directly across from the stall with gizmos and techy things were spices and dried chilis, nestled withing burlap sacks as tall as her hip. Through the sunglasses she scanned the crowd, wishing she was taller so that she might look over the bobbing heads, relying heavily on her sense of smell and hearing to cover what her eyes couldn't reach. She didn't look like a tourist, with wide blinking eyes, taking her time amungst the stalls and the goods. She moved with determination, scanning only the crowd as fluid grace had her weaving through the crowds with ease.

She was just a little shy of average height, Greek decent to those of a more mortal eye of race. Brown hair, slightly curly was pulled back in a pony tail, hunter green eyes hidden behind the blank lenses of her glasses, and full, seductive lips occationally tilting upwards in a smirk when she caught something of interest. With a white button up T-shirt and khaki capris, she was modestly dressed with an attractive figure that hinted at strength as muscles flexed, shifted and moved. She was beautiful, and while there was confidence in herself, it wasn't haughty of snide; not the sort to look down her nose at others and scoff at their faults. Men would follow her with their eyes as well as some women, but she would pass by them without a glance that might distract her from her task.

With a sigh, the announcements for the prayers began to play along the speakers. This, was a blessing. Being a prodomonant Muslim population, most of the people began to flock towards the Mosque, their prayer rugs tucked under arm, kicking off shoes where they would ready to bow five times amungst the prayers; the women and men taking seperate paths. Less people in the Bazaar would make it easier to track her quarry... if it could be tracked at all. Here, allowing the flood of people to move around her, Keshayla stepped over to a set of stairs and out of the swarm of bodies. Eyes closed as her nose flaired, slowly inhailing, filtering out the thousands of bodies that were human and Others alike, and allowed the wind to shift and swirl around her.

She wasn't certain how much time past, but it couldn't have been long. The sun was still beating down in the sky, causing sweat to collect on her brow and dampen her shirt, the prayers, hauntingly beautiful, echoed out of the speakers as thousands gathered to pray, and within the stillness of the city she heart the unmistakenable sound of insects moving. She would have liked to have said that it was far away, that they didn't surprise her, but they were rather devious bastards; and she had spent the whole time scanning the surface; and not listening to the vibrations of the ground.

Earth, packed from millions of footsteps and the unrelenting heat, exploded into the sky. They fell, pelting down on the mass of people that remained, startling screams and shouts from those who were closest to the insects. Keshayla took half a second gloating in her victory about being right, and the other half to realize that these things were indeed attacking. With a rush she surged forwad, vaulting off of the steps towards the closest of the insects. Two hooked barbs on either end of it's front manticals were reaching forward, hooking into the calf of a man who screamed in arabic, calling for help as his hands vainly tried to make purchase in the untouched soil before him. Blood flowed past the green khaki of his pants, and cloth and skin ripped as one as the leg was hefted into the air.

His cries pitched just as the Lycan hit the bug; leaping high to land on it's extended manticle. It would have been nice to have brought her gun; but this was supposed to be scouting; and she was confident her abilities to fight. Feeling the carapice below her hands now she knew it was a mistake. It was hard and smooth, like the hood of a car, and underneath she felt tendon and bone shifting as it reacted to her weight and shifted the man lower. She twisted her right wrist; releasing a stilletto blade with dropped into her awaiting palm. This was quickly thrust downward, into the white eyes where the shell was the softest. Like breaking stone and high bells it cried out, thrashing to the side, dropping the man and sent the Lycan rolling in a controlled tumble onto the back of it's partner.

The blade caught into the tough shell, dragging across it's shoulders, springing forth green blood that smelled faintly of bitter leaves. The two reared and twisted, crawling the rest of the way out of the hole and convulses as her think blade did more damage in her skilled hands than a man twice her height and weight could provide. It didn't take long before she expertly dismembered the insects, breaking free the egyptian man who was being pulled away by three others, and dropped slightly out of breath to stand before them. {"Get out of here!"} She shouted over her shoulder in Arabic, waving back with her green covered arm as if that would make them move any faster. The three men hefted their injured comrade, scattering back amungst the dwindling people who continued to shout and scream over the prayer service.

The ground shook again, discarding the two dead scarabs to the side as if they were nothing more then tin. The earth moved under her feet, causing the hard pack sand to collapse and wrythe, sending the Lycan sprawling onto her back, kicking her heels as she scrambled to get out of the way of the cave in. Stalls tipped over, goods broke and shattered across the path, and three more scarabs broke the surface, crying aloud before they shifted possition and located the Lycan. She was still for only a moment before she realised they were watching her, after that she was on her feet, running away from the crowd, an attempt to lead the beasts further towards the bazaars center where she would have more room to fight.

Good intentions; but she didn't calculate her chances correctly. She lept over the two dead, kicking dust up in her wake, moving faster than a human should; but these things had an advantage. The fourth was below the ground, waiting for Keshayla's vibrations on the surface to reach them. As she stepped over them, the earth once more began to fall; creating a sink hole that released a startled yelp from her mouth before her knife dug into the earth, keeping her from tumbling down into the trap. The toes of her shoes dug into the ground, kicking to launch herself upwards and surrendered the blade for distance. Hot fire burned through her back as one of the scarabs reached her; slicing the barbed mantacle across the backs of her shoulders until she dropped back to the earth with an 'oomph', and a startled cry as the leg stabbed downward, piercing her thigh to stake her to the ground. The pain made her sick, and while she would have been comforted with the time aloud to gasp and groan, it was denyed by another hard blow, twisting her awkwardly over to her back, hips rotated. Her wrist flexed again, sending another slim blade into her palm just as the mouth below the exoskeleton lurched farward as if to try to take a bite out of her, She thrust the blade upward, the insect bitting down around her arm, crying out suddenly and loud in those high pitch squeals as her blade bit into the roof of it's mouth. More of that blood fell, splattering across her face and chest in thick globs before a hard jerk came from her arm. The insect dropped, dead, causing the Lycan to cry out startled once again as she faught to free her arm; as well as herself under the burdon. It was too hot to be smashed beneath a giant bug. And by the sounds of the approaching others, she doubted she had much time.