User:Salamander Bubbles

1. Chapter Two: Sushi, Video Games, and Gravestones

“Embros! You home?” I yelled.

I stare into the deep darkness that is the living room. I almost kill myself trying to get past the

coffee table to get to Embros's room.

“You know, Embros,” I start walking into the only lit room in my house. It might be a good idea to clean up the house once in a lifetime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Embros said, mumbling without looking up from his video game, “I know, but I'm too busy to care about the cleanliness of this house.”

“Yeah, well,l I'm not about to let my cause of death be ‘his brother didn't pick up after himself’”

Embros laughs, throws his phone aside, and lies down next to me.

“What's that?” Embros asked, pointing at my bracelet.

“Ah, nothing, made it in crafts,” I lied.

    Embros looks at me searching for lies, but since I've been lying since before I could walk, I hid it pretty well.

“Ok, well, I'm getting food. What'd you want?”

“Pick for me.”

“Kay, Sushi sound good?” Embros said, picking his phone up again.

"Perfect”

A few hours of silence were interrupted by the doorbell

“Yo?” said a voice…a familiar voice.

“Saturn, get the door, I'm busy,” Embros said.

    I groaned, but I got up anyway. I opened the door, and there stood Gordon, still looking like he stepped out of a 1950s movie. He had that same knowing smirk on his face, and I could smell cigarette smoke clinging to his leather jacket.

    "What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice low so Embros wouldn't hear. 

    "Look, kid," Gordon said, leaning against the doorframe. "We need to talk about what happened in that subway tunnel. About the staff, the hieroglyphics, all of it." His blue eyes flickered to the bracelet on my wrist.

    “Not here,” I hissed, glancing back toward Embros’s room. “And not now.”

    “It’s kinda the *only* time,” he said. “So get your jacket and come outside. Rooftop. Don’t keep me waiting.”

    I sighed. “Fine, but make it quick.”

    I grabbed my jacket and slipped out the door. The city was alive—neon lights painting the streets pink and electric blue, music pulsing from some nearby club. The skyscrapers loomed like giants, clawing at the clouds.

    “Beautiful night,” Gordon said as I climbed up to the rooftop. He was perched on the railing like he had all the time in the world.

    “Hell yeah,” I said, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

    “Oh, so *now* you’ll listen. Well, you were branded by the storm god himself. He has a hella lot of enemies, and well, now you do too.”

    Wow, thanks, thanks a lot.

    “What do you mean he branded me?” I asked

    “Claimed you, marked you, whatever you want to call it to make it sound less horrific. He’s called you his own, his son, and now you have to deal with it.” Gordon said, “That bracelet is his staff. Set rarely gives his offspring gifts, never actually, so you must be special. There must be a reason. Set and Ra got into a fight a few days ago, Set ended up telling Ra that the child of storms will end up destroying the world, blah, blah, blah. My parents are loyal servants of Set, and since you are his offspring, I must make sure you are well trained and don’t die.”