A man goes flying out of the tavern doorway, landing on the sandy street on his face.
"And stay out, you god damned thief!" shouts a man's voice from just inside.
As far as dusty, major streets in small Egyptian towns go, it was pretty much as unexceptional as they go. You've seen one, you've seen them all; and trust me, in all my days, I've seen way more than just one.
The paint on the sign above the door clearly had spent the better part of the decade being faded by the sun, to the point where you could barely make out what it said: "Mackenzie's." It's not as out of place as you might think. These sorts of English speaking dives sprout out in pretty much every town you get any sort of excavation in. It's the finest part of British imperialism. No matter what exotic country with foreign traditions you might find yourself in, so long as there's people... you can always get a pint.
God bless the Empire.
I walk inside, and despite having never been in before, it's alread a familiar sight. It's early evening, so it's already fairly crowded, with white people sitting around filthy wooden tables, the whole place lit very dimly by torches and the cheapest chandeliers you could ever possibly imagine. Like every other English speaking tavern in the country. You've seen one place like this, and you've seen 'em all, really. The men at the bar seem excited, but neither drunk nor rowdy, since the sorts who end up in this country like to think of themselves as more sophisticated than that. They aren't.
"Pardon me, barkeep!" I shout, catching his attention and waiting for him to come over. "I've been informed that I would be able to find Joe Cassner here."
"Brown cloak, in the corner," he grunts, gesturing in the general direction.
I thank him, and make my way though the noisy crowd, until I find the table in the corner he was pointed at; sure enough, there's a lone, handsome figure in a brown cloak, taking a swig from a mug.
"Excuse me, sir, but would you happen to be the archeologist, Mister Joe Cassner?"
The figure puts down the mug, and stares at me intently. And I'm instantly taken aback when I hear the voice.
"Well, mate, I don't know any of man by that name," she says with a strong accent that I can't place, "but I am indeed Jo Cassner. And I'll put yer face in if you call me 'sir' agin, got that?"
"My apologies, ma'am," I quickly recover. "I'm sorry, I must've been given bad information, I was told that I could find an archeologist here. I'm sorry to have bothered you, good lady."
I'm about to turn away, but then she grabs me by the collar.
"Now you just hold on there a moment, mate," she says. There's a growl to her voice, but it almost sounds... playful? "Lemme guess, yer lookin' for someone who knows a thing 'er two about the ruins here, am I right?"
It takes me a moment to figure out to say. You've been violently grabbed by one tomboyish lady in an Egyptian bar, you've been grabbed by them all; but in all my days, I never have. It must be a sign of the times, I'm getting too damn old for this.
"Indeed," is my sole response.
"Well then," she says, grinning as she lets go of me. "I'm yer lady, then. Sit down, mate, tell me all about what I can do yer for."
She carries a torch over her head as she leads through the dark catacombs.
"So this girl yer lookin' for... just how important are we talkin' about 'ere?" Jo asks, staring down at her strange pocket watch. "Turn left," she says, as we hit a fork.
"His Majesty does not send his agents into foreign lands for trifling matters," I inform her. "Victoria is the daughter of Ambassador Kent, who was largely responsible for the negotiations that ultimately resul--"
"Ambassador's kid, gotcha," she says, cutting me off.
"If you're worried about monetary compensation, I assure you, your work as a guide here will not be undervalued."
She grabs me by the arm, stopping mid-stride.
"Listen, mate," she says sternly, "Money's no object to me. Ya really think I came all this way--" and when she says that, I suspect she means more than this specific trip, "--just fer a few bucks? Come on, gimme a little more credit'n that, will ya?"
I find myself completely confused by nearly everything she says, but I'm taken aback all the same by her assertation that she doesn't care about money.
"Then why?"
"You gotta ask why I want to 'elp ya rescue some poor kid 'ostage? Really?" she laughs, and that's all she says on the matter.
We journey deeper into the catacombs, stopping ever so often to tell me to watch my step, intentionally setting off booby traps before we hit them. I've been through my share of labyrinthes, but let me tell you: if you've seen one booby trapped maze, you have assuredly not seen them all. I could navigate it myself-- after all, all my years of experience have taught me a thing or two about not getting killed in a simple infiltration-- but all things considered, having a knowledgeable guide is far safer and quicker.
We're about to turn another corner, when I hear noises, faintly. She grabs me again and stops me.
"The treasure room's right 'round this corner," she whispers. "If these blokes are holed up anywhere, it's in there, I figger. Ya ready?"
"Miss, I am always ready," I whisper back in all truthfulness.
"Then let's kick some arse," she responds quietly, and we turn the corner. The corridor bends once more, and we quickly go around that, finding ourselves staring at a huge, torchlit room.
In times past-- possibly recently past-- I imagine the room was filled with all sorts of exotic Egyptian treasures, perhaps riches of some ancient prince, filled with dusty gems and long tarnished gold. Now there were but four objects in the room: five men in blue coats playing cards on the floor, and a lady looking understandably indignant, at the back.
They all look up, quickly hurrying to their feet as they realize they have uninvited company.
"Have at you, uncivilized ruffians!" I announce, as I charge into the room.
"Attaquez-lui!" one of the men screeches, pointing at us.
"Worse," my lady companion responds. By this point I'm only slightly surprised that she's charging into the room with me. "Not ruffians... Frenchmen!"
All five of them rush at me at once, but I stay steady in my charge, ready to swing as soon as they arrive.
The only new twist is Jo's involvement in the fray, swinging her torch with brutal precision, cracking several of them up the skull, and inadvertantly setting one of the kidnappers' hair on fire. But as for the rest... if you've beat up one Frenchman scoundrel, really, you've beat up them all.
Once they've all been dispatched, the ambassador's daughter looks up at me, and we make eye contact; I can tell, she's grateful for my presence here. Truly this is my favourite part of a job like this, it's reward enough.
"In the name of His Majesty the King, I have come to rightfully bring you back to--" I start to declare, but I'm interrupted.
Jo walks right between us, first taking the ambassador's daughter by the hand, then-- shockingly!-- steals a kiss from her.
"Now, Victoria, let's get ya back home nice and safely, shall we?" she says, and as she turns, leading Victoria forward, I can see she's grinning mischeviously.
"I... I... y-yes, th-thank you!" Victoria stammers, her cheeks red.
I find myself at a loss for actions, and at the same time, uttery fascinated by this strange, handsome archeologist who seems to have taken charge.
"Ya still wanna know why I'm 'ere?" she asks, waving for me to follow after her as they start to walk out the doorway. I make haste to stay beside her.
"More than ever," I tell her.
"Fer the adventure, of course."