Chapter 8: Fully Charged! Second Summon!
The first-floor lobby.
After finally wrangling the historical figures upstairs, Rango lit a cigarette and surveyed the chaos before him with a growing headache.
Total mayhem.
Combatants were everywhere, engaged in battles across time and culture!
Native American warriors clashing with cowboys. Neolithic cavemen brawling with Aztec priests. Medieval knights crossing swords with samurai in full armor.
Even in the miniature dioramas, tiny Octavian—no bigger than a coin—was leading his Roman legions in an assault on the neighboring Wild West exhibit, his soldiers attempting to storm the miniature railway!
The air filled with the clash of weapons and battle cries. Occasionally, something small and sharp whizzed past Rango's head—arrows from the tiny Mayan warriors, probably.
Meanwhile, Rexy was sprawled at Rango's feet, tail wagging expectantly, completely ignoring the chaos around them in favor of hoping for another round of fetch.
These historical figures were acting more like wild animals than the actual animals on the third floor.
"QUIET!"
Unable to take it anymore, Rango slammed his hand against the elevator door and roared, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the sounds of combat. The effect was basically zero.
"Rango..."
Ted tugged on his pant leg. "These guys are soldiers and warriors. Being polite isn't going to work. You need to show them who's boss around here."
"You're right."
Rango's gaze locked onto a group of samurai wielding katanas nearby, their armor gleaming as they battled a group of Mongol horsemen.
"Hey! Over here!"
As the samurai turned toward him, Rango's eyes flashed with an eerie blue light. His voice took on a strange, compelling quality as he shouted, "Your ancestors were ashamed of you!"
The effect was instantaneous. The previously berserk samurai abandoned their current targets and charged directly at Rango, katanas raised, their fury now focused entirely on him.
Bear's Taunt.
This was the special ability his system had granted him when he'd first summoned Ted all those years ago. Any target within his line of sight, upon hearing his taunt, would attack him with reckless abandon, ignoring all other threats.
The skill was powerful—but also dangerous. If you weren't strong enough to back it up, using it was basically suicide.
Fortunately, after years of training in Africa, Rango's combat skills and tactical awareness were professional-grade. A bunch of plastic samurai weren't going to be a problem.
He counted down silently in his head. When the lead samurai charged within fifteen feet, Rango's hand flashed to his taser in one smooth motion.
CRACK!
The electrified dart shot out, embedding itself in the samurai's chest armor. Fifty thousand volts surged through the connection.
Sparks flew everywhere.
But strangely...
"What the hell?!"
Rango stared in disbelief. "Why isn't this working?!"
The samurai with the dart stuck in his armor didn't even slow down. If anything, he seemed to move faster, raising his katana overhead and bringing it down in a vicious overhead slash!
Rango twisted sideways, easily dodging the blade, then cranked up the taser's voltage. Still nothing—the samurai kept coming.
Ted shouted from a safe distance, "What the hell are you thinking, Rango?! He's made of PLASTIC! You can't electrocute plastic! It's non-conductive!"
The realization hit Rango like a ton of bricks.
Right. Plastic. Of course.
Feeling thoroughly out-smarted by a teddy bear, Rango dropped the useless taser and reassessed the situation.
The samurai, now completely enraged by the Bear's Taunt, weren't about to give him a break. Within seconds, he was surrounded by sword-wielding warriors.
"Alright then..."
Rango took a deep breath, letting his training take over. "Let's do this the old-fashioned way."
The first samurai lunged. Rango sidestepped the slash, grabbed the warrior's sword wrist, and twisted hard. When the samurai didn't release the weapon—no pain receptors—Rango pivoted and delivered a devastating kick to the knee joint.
CRACK!
The plastic knee shattered, and the samurai toppled sideways, helpless.
So that was their weakness. These animated figures might not feel pain or electricity, but their joints were fragile. With his strength and leverage, he could snap them like twigs.
Having found the weak point, Rango waded into the group without hesitation.
His superior speed and strength made short work of them. Within minutes, the floor was littered with broken plastic limbs and shattered armor pieces. No blood—just pieces of historical mannequins that would need serious repairs.
Only the samurai leader remained standing. Rango circled behind him and locked his arms around the warrior's neck in a classic rear-naked choke hold.
"Don't fight it... just relax... the dizziness is normal..."
"Rango!" Ted called out in exasperation. "PLASTIC! You can't choke out something that doesn't breathe!"
SNAP!
Before Rango could respond, the samurai's neck broke under the pressure, the plastic head separating from the body with a sickening crack.
The headless body collapsed.
Rango tossed the severed head from hand to hand and sighed. "Gonna have to pay for repairs before I see my first paycheck, aren't I?"
The entire first-floor lobby had gone silent.
Every historical figure—cowboys, knights, warriors, priests—stood frozen, staring at the scene in horror.
The three previous security guards had always just locked them back in their cases. They'd never witnessed anything like... this.
This was absolutely terrifying to beings made of plastic and paint!
Seeing that he had everyone's attention, Rango deliberately adopted an ice-cold expression. He held the samurai's severed head high above his own.
"Listen up!" His voice echoed through the marble hall. "I don't care who you were in life. I don't care what grievances you have with each other. But while you're in this museum, you follow my rules!"
"Now, everyone get back to your displays. Immediately."
"And if I catch anyone else running around with weapons, causing damage..."
CRACK!
He stomped down hard on the plastic head, crushing it beneath his boot.
"This is what happens."
The crowd of historical figures exchanged nervous glances. The new security guard clearly wasn't joking around.
After a moment of tense silence, the assembled warriors, cowboys, and ancient soldiers dejectedly shuffled back to their respective display cases, muttering to themselves.
Watching them comply, Rango allowed himself a small smile.
Good thing these were just animated mannequins and not actual reincarnations of their historical counterparts. Real warriors probably wouldn't have been intimidated so easily.
A few minutes later, having successfully quelled the chaos in the main lobby, Rango didn't bother cleaning up the mess. Instead, he headed directly toward one specific exhibition hall.
The Hall of Egyptian Antiquities.
At the entrance stood two rows of towering Anubis guards—jackal-headed statues standing over thirty feet tall, their obsidian eyes seeming to track his approach.
Rather than try to force his way past them, Rango stopped and called out clearly, "I know how to help your Pharaoh! Just let me through!"
The Anubis guards turned their massive heads toward each other, some silent communication passing between them. Then, in unison, they stepped aside, clearing a path.
Rango didn't hesitate. He strode into the Egyptian hall at full speed.
As he approached an ornate sarcophagus inlaid with precious gems and gold leaf, his pace gradually slowed.
It wasn't the muffled roaring coming from inside the sarcophagus that gave him pause—though that was certainly unsettling. No, what stopped him was the object mounted on a stone pedestal just beyond.
A golden tablet, covered in hieroglyphics, emanating a soft supernatural glow.
The Tablet of Ahkmenrah.
The artifact from the movie that brought all the museum's exhibits to life each night.
Rango's palm was burning so intensely it felt like his hand was on fire. His prediction had been correct—this tablet was absolutely supernatural. Just being near it, his system's progress bar was moving.
Without hesitation, he reached out and placed his hand directly on the warm golden surface.
The moment his fingers made contact, brilliant blue light erupted from his palm, so bright he had to squint against it.
The progress bar on his wrist—which had already gained a bit of charge from the Murder House—suddenly surged forward, racing from 99% to 100% in seconds.
The system hummed with power.
He could initiate the second summon.
Rango's heart raced as he pulled up the system interface visible only to him. The familiar circular pattern appeared, divided into four sections: the teddy bear (dimmed, already summoned), the porcelain doll, the dagger, and the winged dragon.
Three options remained.
"Come on..." he whispered, his finger hovering over the mental trigger. "Please not the creepy doll. Literally anything but the creepy doll."
Ted waddled up beside him. "You gonna do it? The second summon?"
"Yeah." Rango took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."
He activated the summon.
The blue light intensified, and the wheel began to spin in his mind's eye. Round and round it went—teddy bear, doll, dagger, dragon—faster and faster until the images blurred together.
Then, slowly, it began to decelerate.
Passing the dragon... passing the dagger... slowing near the doll...
"Not the doll, not the doll, not the doll—"
The wheel stopped.
On the dagger.
Rango let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank God."
The blue light coalesced in his free hand, taking shape. Weight materialized in his palm—cold metal, leather-wrapped grip, perfect balance.
When the light faded, he was holding a knife.
But not just any knife.
It was beautiful and terrible all at once. The blade was roughly eight inches long, double-edged, with a wicked curve near the tip. The metal had an almost liquid quality, like quicksilver frozen in time. Strange symbols were etched along the fuller—symbols that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at them.
The handle was wrapped in dark leather, worn smooth from use, and the crossguard curved elegantly toward the blade. At the pommel sat a single dark gem that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
"Whoa," Ted breathed. "That's... that's not a normal knife."
Rango turned the blade in his hand, testing the weight. It felt perfect—like it had been made specifically for him. Which, in a sense, it had been.
A new notification pulsed in his mind. Skill Available: Extract from Summon?
He focused on it, accepting.
Knowledge flooded into his brain—not just how to use the knife, but mastery. Decades of experience compressed into seconds. Throwing techniques, close-quarters combat, pressure points, vital areas. His hands knew moves his conscious mind hadn't learned yet.
"So what skill did you get?" Ted asked.
Rango executed a complex knife-flourish without thinking about it, the blade spinning through his fingers before settling into a reverse grip. "Combat knife mastery. Expert level. I know things I definitely didn't know five seconds ago."
"Useful."
"Very." Rango slid the supernatural blade into his belt. It seemed to cling there, staying secure without any sheath. "And it's not just skill. This thing is... special. I can feel it."
"Special how?"
"Not sure yet. But—"
A loud THUD echoed through the Egyptian hall.
Both of them turned toward the sarcophagus. The banging from inside was getting louder, more insistent.
"Right," Rango said. "Should probably deal with that."
"What's in there, anyway?"
"If I remember the movie correctly? A very angry mummy who's been wrapped up for a few thousand years and really needs to use the bathroom."
Ted stared at him. "Please tell me you're joking."
"Only about the bathroom part."
"I hate this job so much."
Despite his complaints, Ted stayed close as Rango approached the sarcophagus.
The supernatural knife hummed against his hip, ready for whatever came next.
Another night at the museum.
And Rango was just getting started.
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