Presley Carnovan prided himself on being a normal kid He was twelve and a half, tanned, with olive eyes and unruly brown hair, a little bit nerdy and somewhat popular in school. He had his best friend Walter, and his awesome museum-curator mother and a divorced living father. In short, he was a normal kid.

At least until this wonderful day in late summer.

His mom was working late in the museum to give the finishing touches to a special new ancient Egyptian exhibition founded by one Mr. Harris Stone, so he came around to say hi. And while he was there he could have a look at the exhibition.

Once he went there, however, paranoia set in. He felt as if he was watched.
"Stupid" he muttered, "I'm friggin' twelve. Anyone who would want to kidnap me would give me back quickly." The feeling persisted, however.

The exhibiton was apparently about the lost son of Pharao Amenhotep I, one of the first Pharaos of the 18th dynasty. An excavation team had found an intact burial chamber containing four luxurious sarcophagi, most likely high-ranking officials that had been buried instead of the Prince, whose body had yet to be found. Traces pointed to those four having been killed when they tried to protect the poor prince Amenemhat, so the Pharao had them entombed in his son's grave so they could watch over him in their death.

Also they seemingly sacrificed the prince's pet cat to entomb instead of the prince himself.

Not creepy at all.

That had been until friggin' stone statues jumped at him. Stone statues of all things! They were led by some guy in a real movie-like scarab-ish armor. At first the boy thought he'd stumbled onto a movie set or something, until the scarab-guy shouted something and the statues lunged at him.

In the next moment the four sarcophagi (five if he counted the cat's) exploded in a ray of light and the mummies awoke.

The mummies, however, were nothing like Presley had imagined them to be. He might have been biased from bad horror movies and the fact that his mom was the curator of a friggin' museum, but he still didn't expect what he saw. They looked normal, aside from the tattered bandages, dark greyish skin and their egyptian clothes. Hell, if he hadn't seen them actually jumping out of their sealed sarcophagi he'd thought them to be actors.

Until he had seen their glowing eyes and the fact that they could somehow magick golden armors out of thin air; one of them even had wings that looked like they came straight from a comic. Or an action movie.

Then they attacked the stone statues and their freakish master. A comic-esque fight broke loose. A battle over him.

Presley cringed and crawled further under the table. Oh why had it to be his life that became a bad action movie?

-x0x0x0x-

In the end, the undead had won. The enemy leader fled while his armies crumbled away. Presley and the mummies sneaked away and hid out where the police wouldn't find them. Okay, the boy thought, time for some answers.

"Okay, who the hell are you and what the fuck just happened in there?"

The falcon-warrior (the one with the humungous golden wings attached to his back) bowed at the hip."We are your loyal guardians, Oh Prince. And we were sent back from the lands of Osiris to protect you once again."

Presley frowned. Whatever language the guy spoke, it was definitely no English. And he was pretty sure it wasn't any language spoken somewhere on the world. Not anymore, at least. Not from anyone not having a degree in Egyptology.

Then why the hell could he actually understand the guy?

And, judging from the fact that he answered his question, they could understand him as well.

"But why me?" he asked, "I'm just a middle-school nerd whose mother works in a museum."

"By Re, you are not" the snake-guy responded, and Presley cringed again at their weird, extinct language. "You are the reborn son of the great Amenhotep, King Djeser-ka-Re - Prince Amenemhat, son of Amenhotep and Ahmose Meritamun."

"Back up a bit" the boy whined out, "There are too many names you just flung about!"

The snake-guy seemed offended at that. It was Catwoman who leaned down. "What Rahotep tried to say, is, that you are the reborn Prince we swore to protect." Her smile fell. "And what we could not meet during the regency of your godly father."

"So... I am an egyptian Prince returned from dead after 3500 years - and because of that you guys... what? Came back to life as well?"

"We are not truly returned to life" the snake said again, "Our hearts do not beat and our blood does not flow. We can not feel pain, or hunger, or thirst. Not like you. We are constructs held together with ancient magic from the Gods themselves."

In the next moment his armor started gleaming and simply disappeared, so did those of the others. The now nearly half-naked formerly falcon-armor wearing undead bowed once again and said: "You may have forgotten us, Oh Prince, but in the past we served as your guardians and mentors. My name is Djer-Ka. These are Rahotep, User-ka-Amen and he is Nefer."

Presley's head swam again with weird names. To alleviate the oncoming headache he jerked his thumb at the cat-guardian. "You mean 'she' is Nefer."

Now the three men looked startled over to their teammate. 'Nefer' looked sheepishly, and boy, that was slightly disconcerting with her glowing eyes, before she reached for her hat and let her long grey-white hair tumble freely over her shoulders. "The Prince is right" she admitted, "He is the only one who knew. My real name is Nefertari."

"That explains why Nefer never went to swim in the Iteru with us" the big guy said.

"But why?"

"I wanted nothing more than drive chariots. And girls weren't allowed to. So I disguised myself." 'Nefer' answered with a shrug.

The four mummies started arguing - or better the falcon-guy and the cat-lady did. The snake just glared and the ram-bear-guy was looking forwards between the others. Presley took this moment to check them out closer.

His first impression of them being mostly normal was met. If one didn't count the unnaturally grey skin and the old bandages. Some of which had come loose, but most of them were still stuck to their bodies.

They all had egyptian clothes right out of a history documentary. The snake - Ratep - had a long, white... well... dress covering him from shoulder to knee and a high hat. He also had fine jewlery, which meant he had a better social stand than the others. A scribe, perhaps? The cat Nefer...something had a knee-lenght skirt and a sturdy-looking leather armor, which also concealed her traitorous figure. No wonder the others hadn't noticed she was a woman. The other two had short skirts, were naked waist-up (if not for the bandages) and were scarred under the old linen; with the ram - Userkamen or something - worse than the falcon - Ja-Kal (?) - and his right arm was missing. Instead there was a golden-glinting arm connected to a golden-glinting armor which covered his shoulder and was secured to the burly man with thick leather bands. That thing seemed to be a much better prosthesis than any existing today.

Magic, most likely, his mind supplied.

Inwardly he cringed at that thought. Magic doesn't exists. No matter if there were 3500 years old undead mummies arguing just a foot away from him.

Presley decided to call the burly man 'Armon'. Well - old arm off, new arm on. (He winced at his own joke) This guy was easily the biggest, had the shape of a cupboard, but he wasn't fat. Those were all muscles. He must've been a Nubian in his life, since his skin was way darker than that of the others, and he had a broad nose and thick lips, as well as thick grey dread locks. His white clothing was decorated with gold and purple, and the sheep-amulet dangling from his neck was also pure gold and carrying an amethyst sun disc between its horns. (So he knew something about ancient egypt jewlerey and symbolism; his whole house was full of books about it). There was a golden-glinting bronze hatchet on his belt. Most astonishingly, however, were his eyes. They were a soft purple just like his amulett was.

In sharp contrast to him was the lanky scribe. He was tall, thin with a long face and a sharp nose. His clothing was emblazoned with gold and green, and his amulett was a golden, malachite-decorated cobra winding around a malachite sun, wich made his eyes glow sharp green. He also wore a high hat of the same color combination and was bald underneath it. Presley called him 'Rath' to make things easier. He carried a light curved bronze sword with him.

Nefer...tina (?) the cat-lady was the shortest, but she too was well-muscled. Hard work, Presley supposed. Like with the others her clothing was white, gold and red, and the golden cat around her neck had a red jasper sun. Her eyes, however, were actually more orange than red, which made her not look like a monster from some computer game. Her nearly white hair came to her shoulder blades, was unruly from being forced into a hat for 3 and a half millenia and looked as if it could use a good conditioner. A whip was dangling from her belt, as well as a short dagger.

The last, Ja-Kal the falcon, was most likely the leader of the bunch. He was as tall as Armon, and while he was much less bulky he too had a body most men would kill for. Women too, he supposed, and he had a slight Roman nose. His color combo was gold and blue, and his amulet was the most precious one. While those of the others were about as big as his fist, Ja-Kal's reached all across his chest. A golden, lapis lazuli encrusted falcon spread its magnificient wings over his breast like a protector, with the blue sun disk resting over the dip in his throat. The undead's hair was neater than Nefer-Tinas' and reached down to his shoulders, and his eyes were glowing blue. A bow was slung over his admittedly broad back, the quiver hung at his hip and a long dagger was at his other side.

They also had a cat. A black one, more slender and longer limbed than the fat cats he sometimes saw, with glowing yellow eyes and a golden collar. It rubbed its head at his leg in affection.

Presley sighed. So, he now had a bunch of undead mummies, armed to the teeth and capable to power up with magic armor, at his every whim, because he was apparently a reborn prince, whose life was in danger from a psychopath in a Scarab armor and his army of walking statues. Also there was an undead cat.

Awesome.

This day couldn't probably become any weirder, he decided.

-x0x0x0x-

The first thing he did when he arrived home was to make sure his mom wasn't around. She wasn't, and so he waved his new undead companions in.

"The house of your father in Men-nefer was more impressing" Ja-Kal stated.

"Yeah well, get used to it" Presley said and all but shoved the undead out of the view of their neighbors. "Here I am no prince but only a middle-school nerd."

"Outrageous!" Rath fumed. "Do they not recognise your royal Ka?"

The boy made a face. 'Ka' meant as much as 'Soul' in the egypt mythology. His whole house was full of books on ancient egypt - his mom worked in a museum, so sue her! Crossing his arms he watched his weird escort. They were smitted and astonished by pretty much everything - the recliner, the carpets, the cupboards... then again, they came from a time long ago. Of course they didn't know anything that was normal for him.

It was only reassuring that they were more curious than afraid of their new surroundings.

"My prince" Armon spoke up, "I opened the white altar and found offerings of food inside!"

"White altar... oh, you mean the fridge?"

"Fridge?"

"It's where we store food nowadays. Help yourself."

"Very generous of you, Oh Prince" the undead said beaming and immediately dug into the food like a starving dog.

Wait.

Starving?

"Wait a second... you're dead! Why do you have to eat anyway?"

"Because I'm hungry."

"But Rath said something about you not feeling hunger."

"This is simple, my Prince" the scribe spoke up, "Our bodies may be dead and unfeeling, but our Ka and our Ba are still alive. They remember what it meant to feel, and so we feel."

The boy frowned. "What you just said made no sense at all. But then again... mind over matter, right?"

"Your expression is unbeknowst to me. But I think you mean what I said."

The cat rubbed against his legs. Which brought Presley back to the elephant... undead mummy elephant... in the room. "Okay. I kind of came to terms with me being some kind of reborn royalty, which is why you have to protect me... but against whom? That weirdo in the scarab armor?"

"Exactly" Rath answered. "Your Ba may not be the same it was 3500 years ago, but your Ka is the one of Prince Amenemhat. It is one of a kind, a powerful Ka which only the most powerful of Pharaos had. Which is why Qar is after it."

"Qar? That the weirdo's name?" The undead voiced their affirmation in what could only have been anger. Presley scowled. "I'll call him Scarab. It's easier to remember. And catchier."

"Is that why you changed our names?" Rath asked wryly.

"No offense, but your names are hard to get out."

The scribe sighed. "Very well."

Presley grinned. Then, however, his smile fell upon discovering a deep wound in the Nubian's guts. Like from a spear thrust. He bet the others had similar wounds - none healed, only artfully stitched up with golden thread and in fatal places, but mostly covered up.

"Is he the one who... killed you?" he asked quietly.

"Not directly" Ja-Kal answered and his face darkened with fury. "The coward never fights his own battles. Qar used to be the vizier of your father, Pharao Amenhotep. But seeing your mighty Ka he became obsessed with it, wishing to steal it to ensure his own immortality." He snorted and fingered a deep cut in his chest; directly under his falcon's left foot. "He lured your old self, the Prince, into a trap, and ambushed us to prevent us from rescuing you."

The twelve-year old cringed. Killed because they tried to protect him. Well, another version of him. That sucked. That really sucked.

"We could not save Prince Amenemhat's life" the undead continued more mournfully, "Although our sacrifices ensured that your Ka could escape the traitor's clutches. After that..." He shrugged. "We woke up in the sarcophagi and continued what we had to do. To protect your returned Ka from ever falling into Qar's hands. Otherwise he will gain immortality and great powers."

"Powers to rival the god's and to wipe us all out with a single spell" Rath closed darkly.

Presley fidgeted with a loose seam. His mummy guardians stared gloomily at nothing. "But... he can't kill you now, can he?" he finally asked with a small voice.

"Not with a single spell, no" Rath answered, "The magic that reanimated us is far too mighty and ancient even for a seasoned witcher such as him. And non-magical damage won't hurt us at all. Except for fire, maybe."

"Although I suppose with enough damage we could probably be ended" Nefer-Tina added thoughtfully.

The boy cringed again and Armon laughed. "Don't worry, Oh Prince. As long as we can recover in our sarcophagi we will be just fine."

Which was of course when his phone rang, making the five undead jump at the strange noise. "Calm down, it's just my phone. Mom's calling."

"Your mother, the great Queen Ahmose Meritamun, is in that small box?!"

"No, she's speaking to me through it. Mom's in the museum. Now shush."

His mother, Amanda Carnovan, was furious. Someone destroyed a whole room of the new exhibit and destroyed the mummies! Only bandage scraps had remained behind. "Sounds bad" Presley amened with a sidelong glance at said mummies in his living room. However, then she continued with Mr. Stone paying for having everything moved out of San Francisco and into a storage in Detroit, so she wouldn't be in for a while. Which was a problem as the mummies needed their sarcophagi to remain sort-of-living.

And so his day did become even weirder.

-x0x0x0x-

Nefer-Tina, as it turned out, was a crack when it came to chariots. Even when they had no horses. After quickly explaining her how to work a car (That pedal is for going faster, that for slowing down and you steer with the round thing) she managed to not only steal a car (Mr. Hepplewhite's, her mom's boss) but also drive it securely through the streets in a neck-breaking, Fast-and-Furious-style after the truck carrying their sarcophagi. The other passengers were less enthusiastic about it, although the undead seemed to be used to her style of driving. They didn't like it anyways.

Thanks to a locating spell from Rath they found it - parked haphazardly on a dark, lone parking lot. The boy wondered why, and while his guardians went to recharge quickly he heard steps. Carefully peeking around the corner he discovered - to his great shock - Mr. Harris Stone - the multi-millionaire that had offered to move the exhibit - flanked by a dozen animated statues. And in his hand he held a golden serpent-staff that looked suspiciously Egyptian.

The man narrowed his eyes at the truck before stepping back. "Destroy everything" he said, and Presley's eyes widened. The guy spoke ancient Egyptian! Could he have something to do with Scarab?

The statues went into position. From experience he knew that their staffs could shoot bolts of energy capable of damaging a stone pillar. And with a dozen they could surely destroy the truck with everything inside. So Presley did the only thing he could think of.

He jumped in front of the truck with his arms flung out. Mr. Stones' eyes widened and he barked: "Shabti! Stop!"

The statues lowered their arms. Mr. Stone put up a sickenly pleasant face. "My, what are you doing here, little boy?"

"You wanted to destroy the truck" Presley growled,"I won't let you, Qar."

The smile fell off of Stone's face. "So you know" he said coldly.

Presley's smirked. "No, I didn't" he sing-sung, and the man's eyes widened. "You just told me."

"I think he got you there, boss" the cobra-staff suddenly said with a snarky, female voice.

"Shut up, Heka!" Stone growled. He shot a glare at the boy. In the next moment, however, he tugged an amulet free from his shirt. A scarab with falcon wings spread over his chest and a destroyed obsidian sun disk in its front legs. "I am grateful you came here on your own" Stone - no, Scarab - said, "That saves me from searching for you."

In the next moment the amulet started glowing and he stood there in his scarab armor once again. Presley yelped when the man-monster grabbed him lightning-quick at the front of his shirt. "I suppose Djer-Ka and his entourage have told you about me, Prince Amenemhat."

"You killed them! And you killed the Prince!" the boy called out, kicking with his legs.

"I did" the sorcerer replied and chuckled. "You should have seen the pompous, self-righteous Djer-Ka's face when his own brother Ashakhet stabbed him right through his golden heart."

Presley's eyes widened. His own brother...! How could Scarab stoop so low and turn brother against brother?

"Oh, and how the others reacted as their glorious leader drew his last breath - and they couldn't do anything! It was wonderful to see their spirits break!" Then his face fell and he glared at the boy in his grasp. His hands clenched and the snake in his other hand protested against this kind of treatment. "But of course one of them survived - the little charioteer. He managed to drag himself away and alerted the Pharao. I'd had snapped his neck had he been still alive when I returned to the palace."

His eyes grew cold with seething rage. "Amenhotep punished me. He had me thrown into a dark, tiny tomb, locked in a stone sarcophagus with nothing but a jar of flesh-eating scarabs for my company!" He slammed the boy hard against the truck's side. "Do you know what that meant?! I felt those tiny monsters carve the flesh from my bones, felt them dig under my skin and eat away my organs. And after my body died, my spirit remained trapped in that tomb. I waited, for three and a half millenia I waited, seething in rage at the Pharao and waiting for your rebirth. And then..." His face turned to a really unpleasant smile. "And then a young, wealthy man carelessly broke the seal on my prison. I took his body and his life as my own."

"Harris Stone..." Presley gasped out.

"Never made it out of egypt. I threw his soul into the depths of the abyss."

Huge olive eyes stared fearfully up into the cold grey ones of Scarab. "Is that what you want to do with me?"

"You? Oh no, my prince. I will devour your soul like the demons do it with the souls of the dammned. Your soul will give me immortality and power beyond your imagination!"

"Not if we have a say in this!" someone yelled and an arrow struck Scarab in his shoulder. The man yelled and dropped the boy, more startled than hurt. The undead guardians jumped out of the truck and stood between him and their prince. Ja-Kal's face could only be described as furious. "You will not lay hands on the Prince - not again!"

"With the Strength of Re!" all four shouted. In a flash of light their gilded armors re-appeared and they attacked the dark sorcerer and his Shabti army.

"I'm pretty sure I have seen this before" Presley thought wryly and went to dive underneath the truck.

Just like hours before the four undead easily managed to dispatch the Shabti group. It was awesome to watch, and Presley decided to ask them for self-defense classes later on.

Ja-Kal was heading towards Scarab, fighting viciously against his old enemy. And when the last Shabti fell in pieces, Scarab turned to flee. Like before a pair of insectiod wings unfurled from his back and he took to the skys.

This time, however, they were outside. "Oh no you won't!" the falcon-guardian yelled. This time he had more than enough space to actually utiilize the wings coming from his armor, even though they didn't look as if they could actually carry a fully-grown undead man. Something about physics and aerodynamics said that the undead might be able to glide, but not actually actively fly. He could anyways.

Friggin' Magic.

While their leader pursued Scarab, Rath came to Presley's side. "Come, Oh Prince, we need to get you out of here."

He jumped into the truck together with the other three mummies and Nefer-Tina took the wheel. The vehicle rumbled to life and they drove back towards the museum.

"Why here?" Presley asked finally.

"It looks a little bit like home" Armon said mournfully. The boy nodded. They were homesick. But their home was gone, was for over three thousand years.

"The stone guardian is hollow" Rath said, "We shall establish ourselves here. It is hidden enough so Qar won't find us here."

"And Ja-Kal?"

"Our amulets are aligned. He can find our amulets with his. Djer-Ka's going to be fine."

Indeed the leader of the mummies appeared soon after Armon had moved their sarcophagi into the main room inside the concrete structure that was made to look like quarried stone. "He escaped me" the falcon grumbled and let his armor vanish.

"We'll get him. As long as he doesn't have the Prince's soul he'll come after him."

"Not reassuring, guys!"

"We must be ready" the leader said, then relented. "But not tonight. Let us get rest until Re lights the sky again."

Presley sighed. "And I go and look for mom. She's probably still here somewhere."

"Be careful, Oh Prince."

The boy stopped, turned and pointed at them. "Know what? As soon as I have the time I am going to teach you English, whether you like it or not. Your language is driving me nuts."

Author's Note

This is DLRynn's sister speaking. The whole story came from my deranged brain, not my sister's.

I really loved the series 'Mummies Alive!' when I was younger. But now, with nearly 26, I just had to make some changes to the original series. This is no denunciation against the original producers, since they made great work. It is, however, a little more timely, at least I hope so.

After a short search I pinned the Pharao in question to be Amenhotep/Amenophis I. Who died without having had an heir, since his son - Amenemhat - died when he was young. So there's the historical background.

When I mentioned the 'glowing eyes' of the mummies, I was thinking of the undead warrior class of my favourite game 'Sacred 2'. The Shadow Warrior is similar to the mummies in view of his almost normal appearance.

Mummies usually look sunken in, dried out and generally in really bad shape. Also in cartoons and movies. Not so these four. Which can be explained through magic, of course. And this is where the Shadow Warrior comes in. Except for his glowing eyes, he looks absolutely normal.

I thought about the mummies as some kind of Shadow Warrior. Only they have to 'recharge' their magic regularily in their sarcophagi, while the Shadow Warrior doesn't. Other than that they are similar.

They aren't actually able to feel pain or wind or need to breathe or such, but as it was stated they can remember how it was. So they can feel, even though they aren't physically able to.

I took the liberty to change their outfits to a slightly different look. More Egyptian styles and more 'Avengers' feeling for their armors. With Ja-Kal having wings like Sam Wilson, the 'Falcon'. In this case he cannot fold his wings away, they are always out. When broken the mummies can restore their armors by sleeping in their sarcophagi. And their armors and weapons aren't actual gold or iron, but bronze gilded with Elektrum. Gold would be too expensive for mere guardians, no matter whether they can use magical amulets and call forth the power of Re. And iron hadn't been discovered/wasn't mainstream yet at that time.

Also over the course of the series they would lose more and more of their bandages, as they don't need them and they fall apart on their own. Merely the ones glued with resin and the like to their bodies would stick longer.

I also changed their names to more Egyptian ones. Except for the names of Ja-Kal/Djer-Ka and Armon/User-ka-Amen all names are conveyed in Egyptian textes, and in case of the royal family they were most likely the actual ones.

I also did this with the names of places, with Men-nefer being Memphis and the Iteru being the Nile. The names we use today for those places are actually the Greek ones, not the Egyptian. So why should Egyptian mummies use Greek names for the places they lived in?

Also 'sarcophagus' is Greek as well, but I do not know how Egyptians called those.

The mummies intially didn't speak a single word English. Once again, they had been dead for 3500 years, so they don't know how to speak any other language than their own. Since Presley's got the soul of the prince he can understand them without speaking a single solitary word Egyptian either, and so can they. Later he taught them the language and - in case of every one except Rath/Rahotep - also to read and write, since it wasn't required in those times. And social etiquette. Ancient Egyptians had different social etiquettes than modern-times Americans.

Scarab/Quar didn't actually survive 3500 years. Amenhotep had him executed (think of Imhotep of the 'Mummy' series) for the murder of his son and sealed his soul in a tomb so he could never reach the afterlife. Instead his wrathful ghost took control of the unfortunate Mr. Harris Stone and left Egypt in his body. He is truly alive in this variant, not an undead creature sustaining itself on magic like the mummies are. Although he had retained his magic, since I believe magic is bound to one's soul.

Since the bad guy had been a high-ranking official in Amenhotep's time, he too got a magical amulet with which he can transform. He probably created his and the one for Ja-Kal's brother himself, while the others got theirs from other high-ranking sorcerers.