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Sep. 15th, 2005 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebyeUpon reflection, that might not have been the most strategic move to make. Shandor and the shadow-being alike turned to stare in his direction.
"Good use of the element of surprise, Ray," said Peter from over Ray's shoulder. "Uh, mind introducing us to your friends here?"
"Shandor," said the shadow-being in Sumerian, "who are these people, and why are they here?"
"I have no idea, dread one-"
"Professor Stantz? Is that you? Could you tell these people they're making a really big mistake?"
Shandor kicked the accountant in the ribs. "Quiet, you," he growled in heavily accented English. "You, with that sword-thing. Explain yourself."
The human brain is normally quite dedicated to keeping the body it resides in very much alive. Ray's, as had been noted in the past, was not really much good at that. At times of stress it tended to disengage and leave the mouth to its own devices. This was no exception, but at least the mouth had a precedent to work from.
"Dr. Ivo Shandor-" He saw the black eyebrows go up, and switched instinctively to Sumerian. "And Dread Namtar, Herald of Ereshkigal, Lord of the Sixty-four Diseases, Bringer of Afflictions-"
"Is he one of yours? He seems to know me pretty well."
"Never seen him before in my life, Dread One."
Back to English. "My name is Raymond Stantz, and the men who're currently getting a bead on you are colleagues of mine from Columbia University. We're here to put an end to your vile plans for the city."
"'Vile plans'?" Peter wondered aloud. "You seriously just said 'vile plans'?"
"What did he say?"
"He says he's here to stop us."
"Surely you jest. Or he does."
"Perhaps he is mad," said Shandor thoughtfully. "Or. . ." His eyes narrowed as he peered at Ray. "Stantz. Are you a god?"
When someone asks you if you're a god, you say. . . But that would require an engaged brain, wouldn't it?
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Ray wondered plaintively.
Shandor rolled his eyes. "He's mad, Dread One," he said. With a snort he held his hand out in Ray's direction, palm up. "Barra ante malda! Barra ange ge yene! Zi dingir anna kanpa!"
He didn't even have time to think oh, no, not again as the bolt of energy hit him in the chest and threw him over the edge of the building.
"Good use of the element of surprise, Ray," said Peter from over Ray's shoulder. "Uh, mind introducing us to your friends here?"
"Shandor," said the shadow-being in Sumerian, "who are these people, and why are they here?"
"I have no idea, dread one-"
"Professor Stantz? Is that you? Could you tell these people they're making a really big mistake?"
Shandor kicked the accountant in the ribs. "Quiet, you," he growled in heavily accented English. "You, with that sword-thing. Explain yourself."
The human brain is normally quite dedicated to keeping the body it resides in very much alive. Ray's, as had been noted in the past, was not really much good at that. At times of stress it tended to disengage and leave the mouth to its own devices. This was no exception, but at least the mouth had a precedent to work from.
"Dr. Ivo Shandor-" He saw the black eyebrows go up, and switched instinctively to Sumerian. "And Dread Namtar, Herald of Ereshkigal, Lord of the Sixty-four Diseases, Bringer of Afflictions-"
"Is he one of yours? He seems to know me pretty well."
"Never seen him before in my life, Dread One."
Back to English. "My name is Raymond Stantz, and the men who're currently getting a bead on you are colleagues of mine from Columbia University. We're here to put an end to your vile plans for the city."
"'Vile plans'?" Peter wondered aloud. "You seriously just said 'vile plans'?"
"What did he say?"
"He says he's here to stop us."
"Surely you jest. Or he does."
"Perhaps he is mad," said Shandor thoughtfully. "Or. . ." His eyes narrowed as he peered at Ray. "Stantz. Are you a god?"
When someone asks you if you're a god, you say. . . But that would require an engaged brain, wouldn't it?
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Ray wondered plaintively.
Shandor rolled his eyes. "He's mad, Dread One," he said. With a snort he held his hand out in Ray's direction, palm up. "Barra ante malda! Barra ange ge yene! Zi dingir anna kanpa!"
He didn't even have time to think oh, no, not again as the bolt of energy hit him in the chest and threw him over the edge of the building.
