After the death of two museum watchmen, Ross Hart and his team of detectives embark on an adventure to find and defeat a rising evil that threatens London, and the world. To achieve this goal, he must seek help from a holy entity to gain enough powe...
The quiet night of 13th June 1876 was the turning point for the British Museum. The moon was shone brightly, covering the city with silver light. A few clouds dotted the dark, starless sky. Inside the museum, two officers with the names of Patrick Blue and Dennis Farrow talked with each other.
Patrick was a chubby man with green eyes, a thin mustache, furry eyebrows, and short black curly hair. Dennis was a muscular young man with brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and short blonde hair. Working in the museum meant they would be alone for the night. Neither men had wives, so they were all the company they had.
Patrick tapped his baton against the wall. Dennis turned towards the sound. "I remember a terrifying incident. My friend Bruce suffered a lot from this. He and five police officers fought with a gang of armed men! When he described them to me in the hospital, I was frightened! He told me about how big their muscles were. One man's arm looked as if he stuffed bowling balls there! One of the officers, Alfred Ingrid, attacked first. He swung a baton at a one-eyed man with a scar on his left cheek. The man retaliated, and battered his body with a metal bat!
Alfred and his team barely made it out alive!" Dennis nodded, interested. "You know, I was one of those officers! They put up a good fight, but we put on a smashing better one! I took the hefty one; his fists were giant! It didn't help that he wore silver knuckledusters! He struck me on the left shoulder, and I barely dodged it. I lost my baton-"
Clink!
They heard the echo of a faint noise. Their faces paled. "I don't know, but it sounds bad. We need to split up. Please, be careful." Patrick held Dennis's shoulder. A shadow followed silently behind Dennis.
Dennis arrived at the dinosaur's exhibit hall. A glowing red light caught his attention. Before he could investigate, it faded away. He stumbled backward, almost crashing into a model of a skeleton. His sweaty hands clutched his baton. He whispered a prayer. He felt as if the room was closing in on him. Some of the wax figures looked like they would soon pounce on him. "I command you to leave this place, evil entity!" Nothing happened. He felt more assured, and he walked in farther.
He slid his baton back into his belt. Taking out his crucifix, he stretched his hands forward while muttering a short prayer. It took a while for him to stop shivering, but when he did, he calmed down. He gripped the crucifix in his right hand while he pulled out his torchlight. The light pierced through the barely lit room.
He shone the torch on a glass box containing some triceratops' eggs, then on a plastic lizard, then some fossils. As he passed by, he felt a cold air hitting the back of his head. He stopped at a giant model of a tyrannosaurus rex skeleton and looked up. His skin felt like it fell off his bones. He saw a handsome Chinese man leering at him with a row of huge white teeth. He sat comfortably on the skull of the model.
He wore a white t-shirt along over brown jeans and black dress shoes. His black hair touched his shoulders and covered his eyes. A bangle of red glass beads sat on his left wrist, and a black tattoo of a silver crescent moon on his neck terrified Dennis.
His thoughts echoed in his head.
'Who is this man!? Is this witchcraft!? Am I imagining things? How could a man weighing about fifty kilos sit on a thousand-year-old skull yet not break it? Why has the skeleton not broken? Is this an illusion? How is this possible?'
"W-w-who are y-you? Wh-what are you?!" He sounded like a mouse. The man vanished into thin air, leaving a wisp of black smoke. The act terrified Dennis so much that he fled the hall.
Patrick examined the Ancient Religions exhibit. He walked to an area named 'THE TEN ANCIENTS.' Ten huge books sat on a giant wooden table draped with a purple silk cloth. He moved the torchlight along the table until he got to the seventh book. The ash-colored booked seemed ancient; its cover was caked in dust, and its pages were yellowed. A musty smell filled the air. A golden bookmark stuck out from one side, and a picture of a scarlet red dragon reflected on the cover. A bold text above the dragon read:
'The Art of the Dragon Acts'
"I guess to take a look wouldn't hurt..." As he stretched out his hand to open the book, he heard loud footsteps and quickly got out his baton. He shone his torchlight in the direction where the sound was coming from. It was Dennis, and he looked terrified and pale! His eyes, red and swollen, bulged out of their sockets. "Sir! Patrick! I-I saw a g-g-ghost! A bloody ghost! I swear this place is haunted! Let's get out of here!" His voice cracked and shook. Patrick stared at Dennis, stupefied.
Ghosts? Haunted?
He knew that magic rituals, haunted houses, spirits, and other paranormal things existed, but the British Museum haunted? It sounded nonsensical. "Dennis, did you smash your head against a wall? How could this place be haunted-" Patrick froze and gaped at the Chinese man looming over Dennis.
Dennis's stomach dropped. "Sir? Patrick? What are you looking at?" The Chinese man tapped Dennis's shoulder. He whipped his head and felt his knees go weak. The Chinese man spoke in a deep, trembling voice. "Woe to those who defy the Dragon." He vanished before they could even react. Immediately after he disappeared, both Dennis and Patrick collapsed on the spot, their skin turning grey.
The next morning, the authorities surrounded the building. People crowded the entrance. A line of policemen pushed and yelled for the stubborn people to move back. Four male nurses carried Patrick and Dennis on white stretchers. The crowd momentarily made space for them to pass through before resuming their rowdy behavior. The detective Ross Timothy drove near the scene in a smart grey AMC Ambassador. He parked his car near the museum, then climbed out slowly.
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A not-so-grey AMC Ambassador.
He was a tall, handsome British man with short black straight hair, blue eyes, and arched eyebrows. He wore a brown fedora with a navy blue ribbon around its rim, a lime-green button-up long-sleeved shirt, black trousers with grey vertical stripes fastened with a brown belt with a silver buckle, and black socks under brown dress shoes. He held a black pen and a small notepad in his right hand. He locked up his car and headed for the museum entrance.
He casually walked into the crowd, looking for Chief Officer Gray Peters, the Chief of the London Police Department. "Peters, if it isn't you in the flesh!" Peters's voice boomed. "Ross, the Boss of Crime-solving!" They shook hands and exchanged greetings. "Well then, I suppose it would be most appropriate to show me the scene?" Ross's voice was smooth, sophisticated, and gentle. "Follow me, my boy. I'll show you what I know." They entered the building only to have others struggling to follow them out of curiosity, fear, and anxiety.
Thanks for reading! This story has been with me for a very long time. I decided to start uploading it online, or else it would lie in my computers for months. Please don't forget to vote or comment🦆❤✨!! Stay tuned and stay safe!~✨❤
