Chapter Text
Jake slinks in through the window of the apartment with all the finesse and dexterity of a lethal predator. Silently, he pads his way to their shared kitchen and very, very carefully places a small bloodstained paper bag on the table. He removes his hat and uses the back of one hand to wipe off some of the blood and grime from his face. Tonight has been a real mierda llega al ventilador type of night and he’s desperate to go clean off. He turns and starts to make his way to the bathroom when a familiar, annoying cough stops him in his tracks.
Shit. Steven’s awake. Because of course he is.
“Do you mind telling me why it’s the third time this week you’re tracking blood through my kitchen at three in the morning?” The Brit asks appalled and with his hands on his hips like he’s scolding a teenager he just caught sneaking back home after a night out.
Jake rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t feel like going over all this tonight so he plays it cool and diverts from the bathroom to the fridge, opening it to grab a beer. He might as well get comfortable if Steven is about to reprimand him. He turns to face his pissed off alter.
“You know why, cariño.” He says, taking a casual swig from the bottle. “Business with Khonshu as usual.”
Steven doesn’t look convinced and Jake just wishes the man would let it go already so he can jump in the damn shower. He’s bloody and dirty and his muscles are sore from fatigue after tonight's excursions.
“That doesn’t explain why there’s a bloodied bag on my kitchen table now does it?”
“Our kitchen table Steven,” Jake corrects him.
Steven ‘hmphs’ in disapproval. “Our kitchen table then. Where we, mainly I, because all you and Marc do is order takeaways, prepare food. Not very sanitary if you ask me.”
“It was either there or your desk and lord knows how much of a bitch fit you’d have had if I got any blood on your beloved books.”
Steven scoffs, folding his arms. “Well what did the stupid bloody pigeon have you bring home this time?” And he goes forward towards the mysterious paper bag when Jake suddenly slams a hand on the table startling him and causing him to take a step back. There's a minute of silence between the two of them with nothing but the sound of Marc’s soft snores drifting from the bedroom.
“Siempre el más curioso. It’s not your concern, Steven,” the Latino warns him with a serious look. “I mean it. Don’t go snooping. That,” he points towards the bag, “is the reason why I'm covered head to toe in blood tonight.”
Steven stares at his alter incredulously. “You mean to tell me you killed all those people just to get some stupid trinket for the old bird?”
“First of all, they were all thieves and murderers. Secondly, as far as I can tell this is not just some ‘trinket’ and Khonshu doesn't even know about it; he just wanted me to go and apprehend the criminals. Thirdly, I wasn’t the one who killed them.”
“What do you mean?” Steven asks, cocking his head to the side.
Jake takes another drink from his beer. Man, he just wants this night to be over. “I mean,” he continues, “I was on the balcony when it happened. I watched as one of them tried to pry it open to get at something inside and immediately it caused them to burst into pieces. Then as the others tried to escape they all did the same until it was nothing but a massacre of blood and guts on the floors and walls. I watched the whole thing unfold with my eyes. All I had left to do was collect it. I didn’t even touch it, just used a bag one of the goons had on them to put it inside. It’s definitely cursed so don’t go near it.” He finishes letting Steven digest the grizzly details.
Steven’s face is one torn in fascination and disgust. “What? So you’re saying this is some- some cursed evil relic that renders people into globs of flesh? And you thought it was a good idea to bring it here?!”
“Where else was I supposed to put it?”
Steven looks at his alter like he can’t believe the other man’s total lack of intelligence. “Anywhere but here?! Think Jake! Am I the only one in this flat with any brains?” He walks over to Jake and studies the Latino over. He's covered in blood (gross, but nothing too out of the ordinary) and he doesn’t appear to be injured himself. Steven steps back. “How come it didn’t harm you?”
“Khonshu’s protection for one. And I didn’t try and steal it in the first place. Nor did I try to break into it. I’m guessing there’s something very valuable inside.” He pauses. “I’m going to find out where it originally came from.”
“So it is definitely some kind of ancient Egyptian artefact we’re dealing with here?” Steven comments, sudden interest in his voice.
Jake warily eyes the inquisitive Brit. “I mean it Steven. That thing is dangerous and first thing tomorrow I'm sending it to Layla so she can try and make sense of it and see if there’s any leads before I decide on what to do with it.” He downs the last of his beer and heads to the shower.
Steven stands at the kitchen table, alone and lost in thought. If what Jake said was true, then perhaps this could be some kind of ancient Egyptian weapon? Or maybe the Pharaohs designed it themselves and put in their most precious belongings before placing a curse on anyone who tried to open it? Whatever 'it' is. Jake wasn’t specifically clear. He starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his pyjamas, itching to take a look. Jake did say the criminals had tried to pry it open, only wanting to satisfy their greed. Steven just wants to satisfy his craving for knowledge of all things ancient Egypt.
He cautiously moves closer to the crumpled and bloody bag. It doesn’t look like whatever it’s supposed to be holding is very big or heavy. He tips it carefully so the contents roll out onto the table and emits a gasp. There, laid before him, is what looks like a beautiful small treasure box; golden in colour and adorned with small jewels and hieroglyphs. There's not a mark or scratch on it despite the attempts to break it open.
He inspects it closer, trying to keep a respectable amount of distance between it and him. On the edges are the hieroglyphs; some of which he’s familiar and others he’s not, but it’s hard to read. Careful, so as not to actually touch it, he gets a fork out from one of the kitchen drawers and uses it to turn the little box around so he can try and read the symbols better. It doesn’t make a lot of sense: something about ‘death, worthy of heart and… man’s friend?’
“What in the bloody blue blazes does that mean?” He says out loud to himself as he continues his analysis; the sound of Jake’s shower drowning out all noise in the background. When he turns the box a little further, the familiar symbol of a man with the head of a jackal comes into view - Anubis.
The Brit’s eyes widen in surprise like he’s sure this is an important step in helping to decipher the mysterious box when all of a sudden, it starts glowing and a flash of blue light shoots out from the edges where it’s sealed, blinding him and causing him to fall backwards.
Immediately, he feels white hot pain shooting up all over his body and he screams as he writhes on the floor in agony. He can feel his body twisting in all sorts of ways as it begins to shrink smaller and smaller, morphing into something else.
Marc wakes up to the sound of Steven’s screams and in seconds the ex-mercenary is jumping out of bed, running to the kitchen with his fists raised, lightning fast reflexes honed in to any would be attackers. “Steven?!” he calls out into the dark, “Steven where are you?!” The Brit is nowhere to be seen and there’s an unusual golden box on the kitchen table which he ignores in favour of finding his alter.
“This isn't funny buddy, where are you?” His voice full of concern is met with silence.
He walks cautiously over to the kitchen table and sees Steven's pyjamas: his nightshirt and loose fitting joggers, messily sprawled out on the floor. Odd. Why would Steven get undressed and leave his clothes just lying around? He’s about to pick them up when something under the shirt starts to wriggle making him jump back in panic. Marc steels himself. It’s probably nothing. He’s just been watching too many of those stupid late night horror films and got a fright that’s all.
He tentatively lifts the shirt to see a small black fluffy mess underneath gaze up at him. Two large chocolate seal-like eyes peek out amongst tufts of dark unruly fur and there’s one ear erect and the other flopped over. The tiny ball of black fur stares up at Marc, whose mouth is now practically on the floor, and starts quivering like a leaf.
“S-steven?! Buddy, Is that- is that you?” Marc chokes.
‘Steven’ whines.
WHAT THE FUCK?!
Jake steps out of the bathroom in nothing but a loose fitted towel and dripping water all over the floor. “Hey what’s with all the shouting and screaming? I- Oh shit,” he says looking between a gobsmacked Marc and the now tiny shaking dog in the middle of their kitchen.