SOIKOS: Amen

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A final talk at the airport before they part ways.



"They really call it Natbag? Without a sense of irony?" Garrison Kane sipped from his drink, looking around from his seat at the Ben Gurion International Airport terminal. The little side bar could have been lifted from virtually any Midwestern airport, save for the uniformed IDF members walking about with automatic rifles. At this point, no level of paranoia seemed untoward by Kane, after spending weeks enmeshed firmly in the madness of Templar plots, secret cults, and a new enemy that he had no idea about.

To his right, Jane Hampshire nursed a drink carefully, wincing with each sip. The field medical treatment they'd been able to find her had saved her life, and despite the insistence of the doctors in Tel Aviv, she was adamant about returning to England at the first opportunity. Privately, she'd mentioned that with the sutures in place, her powers would prevent any damage during the flight home, although she'd been gleefully quick to mention that she'd have to take a raincheck on the Mile High Club membership with Kane. Garrison had come to the conclusion that she was somehow fuelled by his glowering.

Farouk and Stick were sitting across from them, although both men had stuck to coffee. The rest of the Chosen had left on a secret flight back to Italy, but their enigmatic leader had decided to stay on a little longer, leaving the four of them to compare memories of just what had happened.

Stick, unsurprisingly, was first to break the tacit agreement to walk gingerly around the elephant in the room. "Well. Does anyone know who it was exactly?"

Hampshire's eyes brightened with an almost childlike curiosity as she glanced from Stick and Farouk and back, her head cocked like that of crow about to take flight after a gleaming coin. "He was with the Kharijites," She interjected helpfully. "We've been keeping an eye on them since forever."

Kane glanced at her inquiringly and she clarified. "Bad dudes from way back. Split off from the main Islam in 7th century. Started their first Civil War and have been wreaking all kinds of mayhem ever since." Jane frowned. "They are heavy into magic. Sort of like the Club..."

Stick nodded. "Yes. They are an old and familiar threat. It's the man that interests me."

"En Sabeh Nur." Farouk's voice may have been crushed gravel, his eyes fixed in a thousand yard stare, seemingly looking through people around him. The still unhealed scratches on his cheeks gave the Arab's face a gaunt and somewhat demonic visage.

"Also known as Ozymandias. Rumored to be the first recorded mutant in history, who has walked the world for eons, from time of Pharaoh Semerkhet. He is considered a legend, a ghost in the shadows of History."

Farouk's eyes glittered as he visibly gathered himself, inch by inch, his self control restored, the aura of self-assured, confident and capable Amahl Farouk settling itself about him as a familiar robe.

"He also killed my parents."

"The first- what? You're saying this guy has been around since Ancient Egypt? I mean, big fuck-off pyramids, slaves, let my people go Ancient Egypt?"

Farouk smiled, his transformation back into his usual self is almost complete. "2950 BC, as far as I have been able to trace." He shrugged. "Of course there are a number of caveats."

"Aren't there always." Hampshire commented dryly.

"Indeed, "Amahl inclined his head and she grinned impishly back at him.

"What caveats exactly?" Stick asked.

Amahl ticked off the points on the fingers, the grime and blood still slightly visible under the fingernails. "One - we do not know whether the man we saw was actually Nur. Anyone could have used the name. Two - Nur is a legend, as I said. A myth. My research into him had almost ended my academic carer before it began. I was on the verge of being laughed out of the university for even suggesting that he could still be alive. And finally... Three - he has been my life's work. Some might say obsession. I am probably the pre-eminent expert on Ozymandias in the world. But I know almost nothing about his ultimate agenda."

The silence stretched as the group digested the new information. Kane finally spoke, pensively worrying at the sleeve of his t-shirt. "But you were sure he does in fact have one? An agenda? Even before..."

Farouk nodded. "Yes, Garrison, I was. Although often less that certain, I had been able to track a number of appearances of Nur though history. He seems unusually prone to being the center of important events. Especially interestingly - many of those events become clear in their significance only in retrospect."

"Such as? I mean, if he exists, and if this guy we saw is the guy you've been obsessing about for years, there has to be some kind of pattern to his involvement in whatever."

"Obviously you're a police officer, Garrison. Looking for a modus operandi for an ancient figure?" Jane allowed herself a pained laugh. "We have heard of Nur, but he might as well be the St.Germain of the ancient world, Amahl. Peek under every convoluted explanation for a strange event, and someone has found Nur there as a convenient connection."

"Except, of course, back in the crypt that's exactly what occurred. Wheel within wheels, death and blood until he walked off with prize, leaving a mound of corpses across three continents."

Stick's soft reminder brought the conversation short as the four descended into another silence, contemplating the implications.