Chapter 7
Steven picked apart his armchair through narrowed eyes.
He’d tried screaming at first, even though Jake told him it was pointless. Marc was in control of the body right now, and the other alter had made it clear he had no more interest in communicating. Despite this knowledge, the brit still found himself running around the seemingly endless abyss for anything that could possibly help them get out of the complex.
“So, are we dreaming?” Steven had asked shortly after Jake originally lead him inside. The explanation wouldn’t have been too out of the world of possibility. Nothing felt quite real. Most of the space seemed to be pitch black, with the only exception being a foggy circle lit up seemingly through no actual physical means. The furniture that did exist was random, with only a single king-sized bed and a bookshelf to fill the space. The pieces themselves were rather cozy, the sort of stuff he’d put inside his own dream home. When in the midst of this eerie limbo, however, he naturally found himself drifting closer to the other alter.
“Basically.” Jake hummed, plopping himself down on the bed. “Instead of just going to sleep and showing up again whenever there’s a trigger, you can instead slip back here. You have no extra control or anything, so its pretty pointless, but think of it as your own man cave.”
His “man cave” did prove to be rather pointless. No matter how hard he tried to manipulate the things around him, nothing spawned of any practical use. No way of contacting Marc to see if he was alright, no way of showing support, he wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to see the body. It made the way Jake had easily slipped in and maneuvered everything all the more frustrating.
“If this is my dream-land, why are you here?”
“Because you’re letting me. You can kick me out at anytime fella. What, don’t like having this mug around?”
“No, I just- I don’t see what this has to do with some crazy cult leader. Or Marc. Does Marc have one?”
“Yeah, Steve, we all have one.”
“It’s- its Steven.”
It’d taken what had felt like hours for Steven to finally calm down and accept that he was completely hopeless for the time being. Whether it was because their brain didn’t want him in control, or because Marc simply didn’t want him out to see the gruesome escape, there was no telling. Even though he knew logically there was no way Marc had been killed, given they were still existing after all, the complete radio silence didn’t ease the suffocating nerves gripping his insides. As a result, Steven soon found himself turning back towards the blank canvas of a room around him.
“So, can I like- fly?”
“What? No, why the hell would you be able to fly?”
“Because I’m dreaming?”
“No, you’re not- I mean, you kind of are, but not like that dumbass. Think of this as your own room. The place where you process all the shit going on, and easily picture it for yourself. You can use it to think through your thoughts, or just fuck around to keep yourself entertained, all up to you.”
"Why does the room already have furniture in it then, if I’ve never used it before?”
Jake turned his head away, “Well, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of free time over the years.”
Steven never considered himself to be the most creative type. As much as he loved literature, a knack for artistic ability was one neither he, nor Marc possessed. Because of this, the first thought that had come to mind when it came to how to personalize the room, was what kind of chairs he should add. There was already a bookshelf after all, it would only be right if he had somewhere to sit and read.
After seemingly years of decision making, Steven ultimately settled on a green sofa-style arm chair. It was rather similar to the one he used to see their dad sit in as a child, only this one lacked the large coffee stain along the left side. The choice proved to be rather comfy, and it fit the aesthetic rather nicely. After the decision was decided upon, and with plenty of time to think, his mind naturally began to drift towards what his other alters would pick when faced with the same decision. He knew very little about Jake aside from that he was a mercenary with an interest in men rather intimately, so his first thought had been a simple bar stool. Something with leather seemed fit, perhaps well used with tears at the seams. When Marc came to mind though, he found his himself surprisingly clueless. He knew so much about the other man’s past, and yet when it came time to think of what sort of settee he’d find most comfortable, Steven came up with a complete blank. The subject had never really come up in their conversations. He wasn’t even sure he knew Marc’s favorite color, for the matter. Did Marc have a favorite color? He couldn’t really picture the ex-mercenary as the opinionated color type, but everyone had to like something.
“So, I can go back here anytime I want?”
Jake nodded. “Yup, anytime you’re not in control. And now that I’ve showed you the ropes, I gotta get going.”
“Wait, no! I still don’t see what this has to do with Bilith or whatever. What this has to do with anything. Can we just- talk?”
Jake didn’t respond. No grunt of acknowledgement, no turn back, not even a stutter in his step. Just a slow walk away, before eventually fading into the darkness.
Steven let out a loud groan. Marc was out there right now, fighting to get them free all the while he sat around taking mental BuzzFeed quizzes over what kind of chair his other personality would like. It was beyond pathetic. He closed his eyes, slouching deeper into his cozy armchair.
Some way or another, their mission in Cairo floated itself up to the surface of his mind. He pictured their final fight, where both him and Marc seemed so perfectly in sync. To this day, it was still the closest he’d ever felt to being on a proper team. There’d been no nudging, no overthinking, no time to waste on worrying about boundaries. It was just him and Marc, protecting the world in a way that truly helped people. Helped them, in a way.
And, though he’d never admit it, it did feel pretty good wearing the suit.
The thought left him sick to his stomach. He shouldn’t feel that way, both him and Marc had agreed to never go into that line of work again, and for good reason. Khonsu had been a monster with no sympathy for the mental strain it put on the man he called his friend. To even see their final night with the god as anything other than a necessity to save the world was horrendous. So why did the memory keep resurfacing?
Before he could find the time to answer his question, there was a shift in the world around him. A faint light in the distance broke through the otherwise never-ending darkness all around him. His eyes widened, body falling out of his chair.
~★✡★~
They were in a car, that was the first thing he’d noticed.
No, not just a car, it was the limo from earlier. He recognized the tacky dice hanging from the rearview mirror. Thankfully, the body operating the vehicle wasn’t him, or otherwise they would have immediately crashed. Less than fortunately, it clearly wasn’t Marc in control. He didn’t need to notice the leather jacket and flat cap to see the different body language. Jake was much more relaxed, in a strange cocky way. The man didn’t even bother sparing him a glance in the weirdly placed mirror on the dashboard.
“Listen up fuckers, I’m going to keep this short and sweet.”
“Nice to meet you too, Jake Lockley. Thanks for the kind introduction, appreciate it.”
Steven’s head whipped to the side, only to be met with Marc’s face in the other mirror. He hadn’t even realized Jake had set up two, and while he was driving? Why go through the hassle? Dangerous too, though he doubted that was the pressing issue on anyone’s mind. “Marc!”
Marc clearly hadn’t noticed the other mirror either, if the surprised expression meant anything. The other’s eyes softened. “Steven? You’re here too-?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up. I’m talkin’ right now.” Jake interrupted with the patience of tired parent. “I’m just opening up the space right now because I’m about to go talk to the head-honcho of the cult I’ve been working on for the past month, and I don’t need you two sticking your heads in in the middle of it. Just- sit back, okay? You’ll get the stupid body back after tomorrow, and you can pretend none of this ever happened.”
Marc scoffed, “You actually expect us to trust you? I don’t know a thing about you, other than you’ve slaughtered four people just within the last week. How should I be expected to trust that?”
Though Steven may have been overlooking it, he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smirk on Jake’s lips. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he didn’t like it. “I mean, you’ve trusted me for years, what harm can an extra day do?”
“That’s different!” He swooped in to defend. “We didn’t know you existed until a week ago! If you call that trust, you’re a little bonkers in the head.”
“Yeah, and what’s the deal with the whole porn-stache thing, eh? Is that apart of your whole job? Cause I personally don’t trust it.”
“Hey, don’t talk about the mustache.” Jake snapped, “I don’t have time to argue with you two. I have actual important shit to do, so if we’re all on the same page, I think I’m going to close the mirrors now. Stay out of the body, kapeesh?”
“Don’t you dare, I swear to the god’s Jake-”
Jake reached forward to close the mirrors, and before he could think, Steven found himself blurting. “I liked the bookshelf!”
Jake’s hand halted on its spot gripping the edge of the mirror. Something unreadable settled itself the alter’s face, one that made the momentary silence that followed all the more anxiety inducing. His insides tightened.
“You…you did?”
“Uh, what book shelf? Do you guys have a whole club or something now?”
Though Marc was clearly trying to sound rude, there was an underlying emotion that left Steven flooded with guilt. He shook his head, “No! I mean, to Marc’s question about the club. I did like the bed and book shelf. It’s really cozy.”
“I don’t understand Stevie, what are you-”
“I even added a chair! It’s a sofa one, really nice and cushiony. Fits the room fairly nicely in my opinion.”
“Steven, what-”
~★✡★~
Jake shut the mirror before Steven or Marc could get out another word. Their presence was still there, he couldn’t completely keep them out of his brain, but not having to hear any of the thoughts vocalized kept him from pulling out the vomit bag. His hands twitched, breathing wavering.
This continued for the remainder of the drive up into the mountains. This really wasn’t the terrain for his old Betty, but when the decision had been initially made, he simply hadn’t cared. He loved the limo like a family member, and there was something assuring about driving it. It was his vehicle; his and no one else’s. Though, by the time he actually arrived at the site, he was pretty sure the damage done to his girl was far greater than whatever confidence boost the drive itself had given.
Taking Khonsu’s advice, Jake parked about a mile out from the actual camp. With the suit on, the remainder of the trip was short, and he found himself arriving on the outskirts of the rather empty town around 8pm. Though he’d been told there was over a thousand people staying in the various tents and poorly made cabins, not a single person could be found walking around the camp itself. He subtly pulled out one of his knives from his chest plate.
“They’re all inside the tent.” Khonsu explained, appearing beside him. He pointed his staff towards the oversized tent buried on the other end of the make-shift town. He could hear music booming inside from here. “Everything is still obscured, whatever Gregory Barkson is using is still disabling me. I cannot place exactly where he resides, but I do know he’s in there.”
He didn’t need to be told; he could sense it all the way back from the car. The air around him seemed to grow thicker the closer he got to the tent, and the same disorienting sensation from back at the office slunk back in. That was nothing, though, compared to what lied behind the tent flaps.
Images of Dionysus came to mind. He didn’t believe in the god, obviously, but it was the first thing that sprouted whenever Moon Knight found himself peaking into the world of nudity, and inebriation inside the weakly made fort.
Everyone was stripped down to nothing, and dawned with homemade medallions. He could tell with one whiff none of them had bathed in days, and yet no one seemed to mind this as they went about what could only be described as one giant orgy. One where men and women, old and young, all lazily pleasured themselves without a single care in the world. Certainly not enough care to notice the white hooded figure peering in through the entrance. The sight, though a tad extreme, did nothing to distract him from his ultimate goal of finding the leader of the colony. A leader he quickly narrowed down to be the man currently stroking himself overtop a dazed, dopey blonde woman. His hands tightened around his knives, body suddenly bursting itself in through the doors.
“Hey, Bilith! I think its time to break up this porno you got goin’ on here!”
The whole room stiffened, though to his complete surprise, no one made the move to stop him. No shuffling, no protests, just confused glances and murmurs about the strange man interrupting their ‘fun’. The only person who seemed genuinely shocked was, in fact, the cult leader himself. His reaction, however, was hardly what he would call expected. “Ah, Marc! I knew you’d be here soon! What, you don’t like the festivities?”
Out of everyone in the room, Bilith was by far the most well-kept. For one, he didn’t reek of body odor, that was an immediate plus. He reeked of expensive cologne and a hint of pine, though that could have been the forest itself. Outside of basic hygiene though, he also carried himself more professionally. Just single look at his cocky smirk and upright posture was all one needed to see to know he was a leader. A rather young one at that. Jake grit his teeth, “It’s Jake, actually. Now, what the hell are you using to control these people? And how do I break it?”
“Oh, apologies Jake Lockley, my secretary warned me about your little condition. Showed me some interesting film and everything- nnngh!”
Jake held his knife up to the man’s throat. “No talking, more showing. What do I have to do, slice your throat? Will that break the little spell?”
“What? Good heavens no! No one’s under any spell, I can assure you! Everyone is here under their own free will!”
“Uh huh, sure. The amount of magic radiating off of you says otherwise bub.” He pressed the tip of the blade deeper into his perfect radiant skin. There didn’t seem to be a single blemish on his body, the sketchy bastard. Bilith stiffened ever so slightly, but that was around to the extent of his anxiety. “Ah, I see. That’s where you got me all wrong, ‘bub’. May I talk to someone else? Maybe someone a little more reasonable so I can explain myself?”
“The rosary.” Khonsu barked. His boney fingers pointed to the deceivingly normal rosary dangling around his neck. “That’s where it’s coming from. Rip it from his throat, and finish the mission.”
Jake didn’t need to be told twice. The request to change alters was all Moon Knight needed to draw back his arm, and-
His hand stopped. A mere inch away from the asshole’s throat, his hand hovered over the vulnerable skin. Jake growled, pulling his hand back again, only for the action to be repeated. He cursed under his breath, “Fuckers, I swear to god, let go-”
“Jake Lockley, kill him. Kill him now!”
“Is everything alright, Mr. Lockley?” The man in his arms asked, eyebrows raised. “You seem to be a little pre-occupied, is there any way I could help?”
“No, just- shut up. I’m going to. Marc, Steven, let go of me-”
“Oh, you have two of them? Well, that’s very interesting.”
“Oh shut the fuck up.”
“Kill him, kill him, maggot!”
“I’m trying! Mother fucker, I’m trying!”
“Well, maybe this might help-”
Before Jake could tell what was going on, a hand was already being placed on his chest.
~★✡★~
Marc had been watching everything. It was difficult, given how badly Jake clearly didn’t want them there, but through sheer strength he managed to observe the entire creep into the camp. Throughout the whole mission, all his brain could think of was Khonsu. The sneaky monster, he should have known the god would never let them go that easily. Even after all they’d done for the Egyptian being, and the entire world, he still wasn’t fully free. Everything in him wanted to scream, but he was stuck. Trapped inside a body he once thought of as his and Steven’s, but now remained hijacked by a murderer with no sympathy for the lives he hurt.
The rising blade was the last straw, before everything seemed to blur together. He could recall taking control of the hand. He remembered screaming, and a harsh tug at the back of their head, but all of the specifics seemed lost. His attention was instead focused on controlling the body he’d some how managed to gain ownership of. When had that happened? He watched the suit he’d grown to know all to well slither off his body, leaving him bare in nothing but his regular clothes. Jakes clothes, actually.
“Marc Spector, you’re not supposed to be here right now.”
Marc turned his glossy eyes over to the tall bird hovering not even a foot away from his shoulder. Despite it only being a month since their last encounter, the sight didn’t manage to strike a chord in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a calming voice from behind him.
“See, isn’t that better, whoever you are?”