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He was so pathetic.
So helpless. He had always been the awkward tag-along, no real use to anybody, but now he couldn't even see or talk.
A piece of cloth had been tied around his head to hide his empty eye sockets—no doubt the handiwork of the other two Americans—and Beni was glad he had been spared from doing that chore himself. It seemed that the Americans were good for something after all. Burns sat in a chair across from Imhotep, hardly aware of his surroundings, and started mumbling something with his poor, tongue-less mouth.
So fucking pathetic.
Burns tried to shake Imhotep's hand, maintaining his old American ways despite his deformities, but Beni hovered nearby and caught him by the wrist.
"Prince Imhotep does not like to be touched. A silly Eastern superstition, I'm afraid."
Beni didn't have to interfere. He didn't have to say a single word, but keeping silent would spoil all the fun. He felt power coursing through his veins, a power he had never known before, and it didn't matter if he had been called nothing all his life.
You're worthless, Gabor, the world had always told him. You're ugly. You're poor. You're a rat. Why don't you do everyone a favor and choke on your own misery?
But he wasn't nothing anymore. He was better than Burns, better than everyone who shook in fear of Imhotep, and he was going to let Burns know it.
"Please forgive me," Burns mumbled, garbling the words.
A pair of teacups, along with his canopic jar, sat on the table between the two chairs and Burns knocked his cup over, spilling liquid on the table and the floor.
Beni took delight in Burns' clumsiness. "Whoops," he said, as if Burns was nothing but a child still learning how to handle a cup. Imhotep continued to sit motionless in his seat, his mask still in place, and Beni moved closer to Burns. "Prince Imhotep thanks you for your hospitality. And for your eyes. And for your tongue."
Imhotep had uttered no such sentiments, but Beni couldn't help himself. He was the one with the power and the words, while Burns could do nothing but sit helplessly and listen to the patronizing sound of his voice.
Burns was the worthless one.
"But I'm afraid more is needed," Beni continued, gazing into that sad, blindfolded face. "The prince must finish the job. And consummate the curse which you and your friends have brought down upon yourselves."
Burns clutched at Beni's shirt, desperate for mercy, but Beni wouldn't give it to him. He didn't have to say anything, since Imhotep was going to finish Burns anyway. And besides, Burns couldn't see. He wouldn't know what was coming until it hit him. But Beni wanted to tell him ahead of time, not to warn him in advance, but to prove who had the upper hand in their unfair partnership. Burns always thought he was so smart, looking down on Beni through his stupid glasses, and he may have been more polite than Daniels and Henderson, but he still thought he was better than Beni, just because he was American and had an education.
The Americans all thought they were so smart, paying Beni half upfront and half later. They thought they could control him and keep him from screwing them over, but the Americans were the ones who would lose one by one. Who cared if Beni didn't get his full payment when he had Imhotep promising him treasure for his services? Beni would be a rich man when it was all over and the Americans would have nothing.
Imhotep removed his mask and Beni knew better than to stick around. He retreated from the room and shut the door, but he could still hear the agonized screams that rose through the air for just a moment, before Imhotep abruptly ended them.
Beni could only imagine what Imhotep had done to Burns and he certainly wasn't going to go back and investigate. Only the remaining Americans would miss Burns anyway and it wouldn't be long until the three of them were reunited.
One American down, two more to go.
It had been easy luring Burns away from his companions. Beni didn't need lies and trickery when he was dealing with a man who couldn't even see, and Burns was willing to trust anyone with a familiar voice, no matter who it was. Nobody could call Beni heartless when he had been right there with Burns, preparing him for his last moments and speaking to him when nobody else could. He had even provided a drink for the poor man.
Beni scurried away, eager to find a safe place in case more plagues decided to appear, and figured it was best to get as far from the scene of the crime as possible. Daniels and Henderson might be doomed, but they wouldn't hesitate to hurt Beni if they found him near Burns' body.
All Beni had to do was outlive the Americans and life would be good. Prince Imhotep would reign supreme and Beni would be at his side, reaping all the benefits and gaining all the rewards for his excellent loyalty.
Nobody would dare call him worthless again.