"Prisma Lockheart?" A man walked over to a woman sitting on a bench. She had shoulder length hair and a green dress on. The dress was accented by a blue velvet shawl. Her black hair and black eyebrows were accented by her deep green eyes. "Yes? May help you?" replied the woman. "I have been waiting to meet you for a long time. My name is Zachary Bangs." The tall man extended a hand as if to shake her hand. She replied to him by shaking his hand. "Thank you." Her bright golden pendant shone in the moonlight. Formal parties were such a drag.
Prisma walked over to her mutual friend, Becky Greenway. Her long brown hair reached halfway down her back. Her bright hazel eyes accented her face, while her ears sported a pair of sapphire earrings. She wore a long flowing electric blue dress made of silk. She was talking with her husband, Robert Greenway. His tall, lean figure sported a black tuxedo, while his brown hair and deep hazel eyes accented his face. He had a gold wedding ring on his finger, while his wrist wore a silver watch. "How's my favorite assistant?" "Bleh. Formals are so boring. The only good things are the food and the champagne," Becky replied, taking a sip of her champagne. "At least Prisma came," Robert said.
Zachary Bangs walked through the yard. He held a glass of champagne in his hand. He came across his best friend from school and through college, Joshua Reed. His deep blue eyes were placed upon a face accented by his dark blond hair that was highlighted with streaks of light blond. His black tuxedo was accented by a golden wedding band on his hand, and a silver watch that his mother had given to him on his wedding day. It was hard to believe that this handsome, slender geneticist had been so pudgy a few years ago. He had lost so much weight in the past few years it was unbelievable. "Hey, Zach!" "What's up? Just met Prisma, finally." "Really?" "Yeah she seems like a really nice person." "She is a great person to work with."
Two days after the formal party, the entire group of them was meeting at their place of work, GenTech. "Do you think we can pull this project off?" Prisma asked Ashley, Joshua's wife. "Yes, I do. Wow. I can not believe that we are actually going to bring a person dead for over two thousand years back to life!" "Yeah. Maybe King Tut will tell us what it was like back then." "Yeah. You know that we aren't messing with him. Wasn't it that person that tried to assassinate the Pharaoh?" "Yeah. If I remember from briefing, the person was mummified alive because of it."
Prisma walked through the room. The jars that held his organs were assembled and labeled, and the mummy was sitting there. She took the small vials of the blue liquid from the counter and then placed them in the test tube holders. Joshua's life's work. This blue liquid he had created would bring any amount of cells back to life. Now, if the ancient Egyptians were correct, the spirit of the person is within the heart. As an insult to him, they also left his brain, so he could be revived totally. She took another vial, this one of a clear liquid. This vial would activate a gene in his brain allowing him to fluently know English. They had thought of everything.
Ashley, Joshua, Robert, Becky, Zachary, and Prisma were finishing preparations. "Ready, everyone?" Prisma asked. "Ready, willing, and able," Joshua replied. "Ditto," Robert replied. "Then let us begin. Becky, scalpel." Prisma then went through a routine that would make any surgeon laugh. She was saying things like a mad scientist would. The one that almost made Joshua bust out laughing is when she asked for his brain. "Brain," Prisma commanded. "Brain," Becky replied carefully handed Prisma the brain of the Egyptian. She the finished the "surgery" and then began to prepare for the chemicals. "Now, then, we can finish this. Bring me the Cell Restoring Chemical, Becky." Becky handed her a vial of the blue liquid. She dropped it onto the brain, heart and skin of the dead man. Then all of the rest of the organs were restored. He looked like a person again. Now, they restored the hair of the man, and he looked real now. She then put a last vial of the blue liquid in him in such a way that it would travel through his veins and restore his body to life. His heart was shocked to life again, and his blood began to flow again, for the first time in two thousand years. They fed the gene that would teach the man English into one of his veins in his arm. They covered his body up, as it began to return to it's skin color. They left the room to clean up.
Prisma was standing over the large sink washing her hands with the others around her. "Looks like we succeeded. I think he is alive, now." "He isn't conscious, yet though. Think he will open his eyes?" "Yes, I think we can get that to happen." Prisma and the others walked out of the room, and into the room where the Egyptian was. She looked at the heart monitor. "His heartbeat has stabilized. And his brainwaves are, what the Hell?" She looked at the feed that she was getting. The readings were unusual. She had only heard of things like this in psychic experiments. "Hey, guys, you should take a look at this." As Prisma cut her sentence off, the others were looking at the feed. "Unreal," Becky said. The Egyptian's eyes opened. "Sekhmet Aktun Stutry." "The English gene must not have taken effect." "I can assure you, it has. What I said was thank you for reviving me." The whole group stared in awe at what they had done. "Incredible," Zach said. I think we succeeded, guys." "I think you are right, Prisma." "I can assure you, that I am fine. Now please, can you take all of these monitors and things off of me?" "How did you know what they-" "I have a small ability, you people would call me psychic." "Robert, unhook the heart monitor, Becky, you take the brainwave monitors. Zach, the IV's." Becky unhooked the heart monitor. She suddenly fell on her knees as a flash of pain hit her. Her eyes went motionless and out of focus. She saw a frightening image. The Egyptian was about to kill Prisma. She threw something at it, and then it fell.
Will finish soon! ~Lance