Request Monday

The show must go on!

Old Dogs


The next morning Richard was willing to believe the entire encounter had been a stress-induced hallucination. After all one does not get visited by gods, or at least you don't and retain functional sanity. Ricky had a brief chuckle over this as he washed and preformed morning rituals both routine and relegious before the contents of his fridge slapped home the reality of the prior evening. How did an ice-box's contents do this? Nothingso grotesque as body parts, or surreal as talking produce. Instead it was in the form of a single bottle of beer with a note where the label would normally be.

This note was written in a very neat cramped style that begain with 'I am Anubis, the God you have chosen to worship and I bid you remember the task I have set for you...' Taken alone either the prior evening or the note could have been written off as elaborate jokes. Ricky, if he were to think on the matter, could have thought of six or eight people who would have pulled the bottle note off and had enough knowledge in slight-of-hand trickery to pull off his visitor's bottle tricks. None of these people, however, would have since were this all a prank it would be a friendship-ending kick to the gut. Nobody Ricky was on good terms with would have done that, and as the rest of the note and the prior evening's request put him in any sort of legal or moral awquard spots he would treat it at face value for the moment.

Before leaving for work he decided to leave an offering at his little bedroom shrine. For a moment he considered pouring the bottle's contents but decided against it. The bottle and its contents amounted to a gift, and giving it as a libation would amount to marking it as 'return to sender.' Potentially insulting not to mention dangerous depending on the divinity's mood. So he resorted to his usual gifts of burnt incense and offering from a friend that runs a microbrewery. He liked its taist, and somehow the budwisers and millers of the world didn't seem terribly appropriate.

With that done there was the business of work. Traffic was light getting there and thankfully what passed through for the majority of the day was the less-grisly sorts of examinations. Each he treated with dignity and professionalism. His job required the latter but the former he did because each used to be a person. There was a bit of running debate between him and his old boss on the matter since he felt that in death the body was just a disturbing wrapper to be tossed away after anything useful was taken in the form of information about manner of death, or donar tissue in cases where situation permitted.

His job was not all cutting up bodies, and paperwork was a constant irritation. Make one mistake and even if nothing else goes wrong there's a sure bet your boss will be breathingdown your neck. There wasa gentle tap at his door while he was in the middle of transcribing his verbal observations from earlier to paper for filing purposes. "Be with you in a moment." He waved a hand to the door as he set the papers aside and turned the playback off. "Alright, come i-"

The glass in the door shattered and bits of the frame splintered from the force exerted by whoever was on the other side. Oh and the wall the door collided with probably didn't come off much better either. Ricky looked from door to perso nclad in black robes holding a pair of bronze sickle swords. Were he not in shock at the entrance, or scrmablingfor his life when Black Robe rushed into his office swinging for his head he might have made a halloween joke. Preasently he was terrified and wondering where security was, to say nothing of scrambling out of a psychopath's way. Somehow he'd managed to get to the door and scurried into absolute bedlam.

Alarms wailed, there were bodies on the floor. Oh and Black Robe was now chasing him thorugh this while making almost bestial noises. The reason Ricky managed to evade an inhumanly strong and fast attacker was that it stopped to maul the bodies. Strange and counter-productive except in that even after finding a place it wasn't Ricky found he was still pants browning terrified.
There was a call to get police there, or at least there was an attempt at such call. Something about where Ricky was blocked the signal. It could have been some otherworldly phenomina, but it was more likely the fact he had fled deep into a building full of metal and concrete which is murder on reception.

"Lost?" A lean man. Dark Skin. Dark Clothes. Short bow with a quiver at his thigh. Hungry golden eyes.

Ricky grunted at the man. "Nutcase. Robes. Swords. Lots of people dead...know about that?"

The man nodded. "That's actually what I'm here about. Father wanted me to try keeping you in one piece. I can't take her in a straight fight, but I can buy you time. He says he gave you something that might make her calm down."
"Her?" Ricky would have asked for more details but he heard a growl. Big cat. Tiger, Lion. Something Big and Hungry.

The lean hungry eyed man stepped out to meat that noise. "Hathor. Don't you think you've done enough?"

"Hathor died with her children little whelpling." Sound of hard metal on metal impact followed by a bestial cry of pain and rage. "There is only Sekmet now!"

Fight between two Gods of War.... Yes. Ricky was smart to run. Of course there's the small matter of him being told he had a way to make her not-beserk. Wait...



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