The Friendly Type
When Jake finally woke up, he was shirtless and held a bottle in his right hand. He groaned and looked down at the bottle, which had only a bit of its substance left in it. He took a whiff of it and gagged from the smell. "Cristo, Marc. ¿De verdad bebes esta mierda?"
Jake knew that Marc's tolerance for alcohol was not as high as his was, but even Jake was feeling the effects from the rum that was in the bottle. That meant Marc must have been absolutely sloshed.
No wonder I woke up.
He stood up carefully, feeling tipsy from the drink and walked over to the window, which had the curtains open. He recognized the city below him as Cairo, a place he'd been only a couple times before. Marc had spent a lot of time here, he knew, but Jake didn't front often when Marc had been married to Layla. He doubted Steven had ever been here.
"We must hurry. There is a man who knows about Harrow's whereabouts. We must find him before Harrow's men do."
Jake groaned at the booming voice of Khonshu. He was not sober enough to deal with the dusty bird at the moment. "Can't it wait 'til morning?" He slurred. Jesus, he really was drunk. How the hell did Marc drink so much?
"It is morning."
Jake rolled his eyes. "Well if you haven't noticed, we're not exactly in the best state at the moment."
"I will never understand humans and their affinity for poison."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one who caused Marc's mental breakdown," he sassed. "Look, I get it. Dude knows where Harrow is. Gotta save him. Lo que. Let us rest, and as soon as Marc wakes up, he'll be on his way, capeesh?"
He would never get tired of annoying the piss out of Khonshu. Marc was wrapped around his finger and Steven was too scared of him for either of them to annoy him the way Jake did. And, unfortunately for Khonshu, Jake was his best option for the future, especially since Marc nor Steven wanted anything to do with him.
The old bird grumbled something under his breath before he vanished, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts and his alcohol.
In all honesty, he just hoped that Marc was okay. The man rarely drank at all, and never as much as he had this time. Jake couldn't actually remember the last time Marc picked up a bottle, especially since Steven had started fronting more often. Maybe his mother's Shiva. Jake liked some vodka every now and then, but he didn't consider himself a drinker either.
Jake sighed and looked at the bottle of rum in his hands. "Eres un idiota," he said, before putting the bottle up on the end table and crawling into the bed. Maybe if they all tried to get some rest, they wouldn't be so hungover in the morning.
"Buenas noches," he whispered, even though he knew Steven nor Marc could hear him. He felt like it was important that he say it anyway.
Unfortunately for Jake, it was not Marc that woke up, and they were just as hungover as he worried they'd be.
The first thing Jake did when he woke up was run to the bathroom to throw up.
Angry at himself for not attempting to sober up earlier, he punched the wall behind him. It left a small hole and Jake immediately felt guilty about it. He decided that he'd leave an extra tip for whatever poor soul had to come clean up their mess.
Their head was pounding, but that didn't stop Khonshu from coming to annoy him. "Jake Lockley. You realize we are behind schedule. Harrow's men will be after the traitor already. It is imperative that we find him first."
Jake ignored him and began dressing himself in whatever clothes he could find in Marc's duffle bag. Jake didn't see his favorite hat in there, which disappointed him, but he wasn't surprised. Why would Marc take a hat that neither he nor Steven ever wore? Instead he found a black baseball cap and put that on.
"Well, are you gonna take me to him or not?"
Jake felt terrible physically but he wasn't going to let that interfere with his work. He had a job to do and he was going to stop Harrow before he could do any more damage. The man was insane, and coming from someone who was also insane, that was saying something.
Walking through the streets of Cairo felt unfamiliar but strangely comforting. They were busy and reminded him a lot of New York. The vendors, the yelling, the insane foot traffic, the foreign languages. It was different, yet Jake could feel the reminder of home and he basked in it.
Really, he had no idea what he was looking for. All he knew was that it was a man that happened to know where Harrow was. A traitor, Khonshu had called him.
Well, any enemy of Harrow was a friend of Jake's.
Suddenly, a woman was speaking to him in what Jake assumed was Arabic.
"Uh... sorry lady. I don't speak that language."
"Oh! I am sorry. You look like you need water, no?" She holds out a water in front of her, and Jake cautiously takes it.
He inspects it for a bit before raising an eyebrow at her. "What, is it poisoned or something?"
"No, no, is free! Just don't collapse on ground!"
He blinks for a moment. She looks expectantly at him, as if she's waiting for him to take a sip. "Thanks," he says finally before taking a sip, then going in for another one. He'd had no idea how desperately he needed water until he'd had some, and he supposed she had noticed that. She holds her hand out, waiting for payment, and Jake slips her a little more money than she expected, winking at her before he walked away.
He was finally starting to feel a little better, and as he drank the water, he could feel Marc wake up.
"There! On the rooftops! You must hurry."
"Lo siento, amigo, you'll have to explain to Marc what's going on," he said, before he finally felt himself slip into the headspace.
When Jake fronted again, he was on the ground and the back of his head hurt. He opened his eyes and saw two guys running away from him. Jake raised an eyebrow and began chasing after them. "Que demonios happened?" He asked, hoping Khonshu would provide some sort of explanation.
"The worm has been interfering. He nearly got you killed."
Well, good thing he was asleep now, because he surely wouldn't like what Jake was about to do. No one fucked with him or his hermanos.
He followed the guys through the city streets, until they finally exited town and reached a dead-end at a large ledge.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The young one asked, and Jake smirked.
"None of your business," he replied, just as the man with the knife tried to attack him from behind. Jake was ready, though, and reached up and punched the man in the face before his knife could get anywhere near him. He turned around and kicked his shin, sending the man to the ground before stealing the knife.
The kid tried to punch him, but Jake ducked out of the way and turned his attention towards him. He grabbed his hand as the kid went for another punch, and twisted it until the kid was screaming in pain and crumbled to the ground. As he fell, Jake stole his knife. Jake felt a pang of sympathy for him, as he couldn't have been older than 16, but there wasn't time for that.
The man with the long hair was helping up the other man, and Jake used the knife he stole from the kid to throw at the bald man's chest, who fell back to the ground dead. The other man cried out in fear and watched as Jake approached him. He managed to get a couple punches to their temple, causing him to bleed a little, but Jake whipped out his knife and impaled the man in the stomach, watching the life drain from his eyes as he-
Oh. He was back in the headspace. Steven was not going to like this.
He watched through Marc's eyes as the man fell in front of them, and immediately he could feel the panic rise in both Marc and Steven. "Wh-what?" Marc asked softly, and Jake mentally cringed. They were not supposed to see that.
"Oh God. Oh my God." Marc looked at the reflection of Steven in the knife he was holding. "Steven what did you do?"
"I swear that wasn't me," Steven defended.
"Then who was it?"
Jake couldn't believe what happened. He had never lost control like that. He was always so precise in making sure that neither Steven nor Marc saw the mess he created, and yet today already he had been forcefully switched out twice. Were Steven and Marc gaining more control over the body? Is this what it had felt like for them for years? Jake thought the therapy had helped him be able to control the switching, surely all that hadn't been for nothing. He couldn't go back there again. He couldn't-
He was drawn away by the sound of Khonshu's voice talking to Marc. "Take him to the ledge."
Right. The kid. Marc looked at the boy, who looked totally helpless, barely able to walk, trying to drag himself away from them. He looked petrified. Jake felt a little guilty about it. So did Marc, apparently, as his next words proved. "He's just a kid."
"He'll talk."
With that, Marc grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the edge of the cliff. Well, maybe he didn't feel that guilty.
"Where's Harrow?" Marc asked the boy. He said nothing, and just stared back at Marc, a terrified look in his eyes. "Where's Harrow?" Marc asked more aggressively this time, and the boy looked at the ground far below them.
Suddenly, the kid seemed to gain some confidence and he took a deep breath. "Praise Ammit."
Oh God.
"No, kid."
Then, he used a knife to cut the scarf Marc was holding on to, letting himself fall to the ground below. Jake, Marc, and Steven were all horrified.
Khonshu didn't seem to care though.
"Hm. I thought he'd talk."
Marc ignored his lack of empathy and walked right over to the reflective surface that was sitting on top of the ledge. "What the hell is wrong with you, Steven?"
"Me? You're the one going on a killing spree!"
"I didn't do any of this!"
"Neither did I. Listen, if you've got a problem with the body count, I suggest you stop listening to that stupid pigeon!"
Marc seemed to consider for a moment, then answered, "Stay out of my way."
Well, that definitely didn't go as Jake planned for it to. And he could see that Marc and Steven still weren't working together.
It reminded Jake of when they were kids, and they were all aware of each other's presence, at least at the very beginning of everything.
"That wasn't me, Dad! It was Jake!"
"Marc, I'm tired of these excuses. You're 11 years old. You can't keep blaming things on your imaginary friends. Jake and Steven aren't real, Marc."
"They aren't imaginary, Dad! They're real!"
"You know your mother isn't going to like this."
There was silence after that. "I'm sorry," Jake said, honestly, but Marc clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
"I wish I could forget that you even existed."
Jake shook himself out of the memory and looked through Marc's eyes as they were walking into some sort of Egyptian tomb thing that Jake didn't recognize. Steven did, however, and Jake caught Steven in the reflection next to them as he was geeking out, clearly forgetting about his anger in lieu of the situation they found themselves in. "Oh my days, we're inside. We're inside the Great Pyramid of Giza!"
Jake had not a clue what was going on, but he figured it was probably important enough that he should be there, even if he really didn't want to be, unable to fully shake the memory he had snapped out of just moments earlier. He was very good about compartmentalizing all of his trauma, but there was a reason that Jake didn't front as much as the other two did, especially lately. The Innerworld was comfortable, and blocked out any memories or traumatic events from rematerializing in his head. When he was fronting or even co-conscious, he couldn't block out those memories or emotions unless he let himself sink back into the headspace. Still, he knew Marc probably needed him there (even if Marc didn't know he existed) and thus, for the safety of the system, Jake stayed.
Marc was currently talking to a pretty woman named Yatzil, who claimed to be the avatar of a Goddess named Hathor, and whom, if Jake didn't know any better, appeared to be flirting with Marc. "The other gods aren't really his favorite topic," Marc was saying.
"Not even when they are old friends?"
"Sorry," Marc said, with a small shake of his head.
The woman chuckled. "She says it was not so long ago, Khonshu enjoyed Hathor's melodies."
"Well, as far as I know, the only melody Khonshu enjoys is the sound of pain."
"Yatzil," a man ahead of them called out, and both Marc and Yatzil began moving towards the front of the room. It really was impressive, Jake noted as Marc looked around. If Steven had been fronting, Jake couldn't imagine anyone else getting a word in edgewise. Steven lived for this kind of shit.
"Has Khonshu told you how this works?" Yatzil asked Marc.
"Not really," he replied. "Is there somethin I should know?"
"I try not to fight it. It's a... strange sensation. But you'll get used to it." Something changed then. Her posture and tone of voice shifted, and even though the voice that came out of her was the same, it was different, somehow. "In attendance: Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Osiris, and Hathor, to hear the account of Khonshu."
Then, Jake felt a strange sensation, and he knew Steven and Marc had felt it too. It reminded Jake of when he was on those medications at the psych ward, where he couldn't feel pain but knew that something was wrong. Where he felt totally numb, unable to move and barely able to speak. Someone else was in control of the body, and it wasn't Steven nor Marc, and it certainly wasn't Jake.
"You've been banished once for nearly exposing us Khonshu. And you know we despise your garishness, your showy masks and weapons." The man speaking was the same one who had called out Yatzil's name earlier. The leader of whatever kind of cult shit was happening here, Jake supposed. "But manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone."
"Spare me your self-righteous threats!" Marc spoke, but it was not Marc. The powerful and awkward way he moved told Jake that the person using their body was most likely Khonshu, the pájaro polvoriento himself. "I was banished for not abandoning humanity unlike the rest of you!"
When he finished speaking, Marc's chin dropped, and Jake, despite being unable to feel, knew that it physically pained Marc for Khonshu to use him like that. If Jake had any control, he would have fronted himself so that Marc didn't have to bear the pain. That was his job, after all.
"We have not abandoned humanity," another man said. "They abandoned us." Jake could feel Marc begin to panic a bit. "We simply trust our avatars to carry out our purposes without calling undue attention to ourselves. Not like some of us."
"Avatars are not enough! We need the might of gods!" Khonshu countered. "Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm!" Marc already seemed exhausted.
"For the last time, Khonshu," the ring leader spoke again. "The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe." A single tear fell down Marc's cheek, and Jake could feel himself getting angry. "We decided long ago that we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man."
"We will decide our best course of action," a woman to their right said. "Speak your purpose."
"I call for judgement against Arthur Harrow!" Khonshu said.
"The charges?" Another woman asked.
"Conspiracy to release Ammit!"
Marc was breathing heavily at this point, clearly in intense pain and Jake couldn't move to do a thing about it. Every moment that passed Jake grew more and more angry and Marc grew wearier. "That is a heavy accusation, Khonshu," the ring leader said.
No response from Khonshu, which somewhat surprised Jake. He could feel Steven beside him, and Jake wondered how he was holding up.
"Let us summon the accused!"
Out of seemingly nowhere, Mr. Cult-Leader-Glass-in-his-Shoes-Weirdo himself walked in, looking around as if he were confused. Jake hated him.
"So, I see by the presence of Khonshu's current makeshift avatar, the purposes of our meeting must be nefarious." Jake could feel Marc's anger and he echoed back with his own.
"You know exactly why we are here!" Khonshu boomed, and Jake wondered if the God could also feel his anger, or if he was still a separate entity from the system.
"I must admit, I do not miss the sound of that voice," Harrow said, not even looking at them. "But speak, old master, to the point."
"Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?"
"I was in the desert, but if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the Nile." What a liar. Jake wished he were fronting so he could spit in the man's face. "Khonshu has searched for Ammit's tomb since he ensnared me to his service. His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia, and his-"
"He is a deceiver!" Khonshu interrupted, and for once, Jake couldn't help but agree. The man was clearly off his rocker, and maybe if the gods weren't so deep in their cult shit, they'd be able to see through it all.
"Do not trust the word of a shamed god." Marc had lost most of his anger and felt... something Jake couldn't quite place. Something between guilt and understanding. Surely Marc wasn't sympathizing with this lunatic. "No, Khonshu is unhinged, and his servant unwell."
Ouch.
"How do you mean?" Yatzil asked. Well, whichever god was inside of Yatzil. Hathor, Jake remembered. Steven would be proud of him.
Harrow and Marc shared a look, and Harrow almost looked sorry for whatever he was about to say about them. "This is a man who literally does not know his own name." Marc looked back up towards the gods before looking back to Harrow, his anxiety growing. Jake knew he hated talking about their condition, and now Marc was stuck fronting with no way to ask for help. Plus, Khonshu was not helping their situation. "He has a marriage certificate under the name Marc Spector-"
"Liar!"
"Employment records under the name Steven Grant-"
"Stop!"
"I've seen him speak to himself-"
"Shut up!"
"Threaten himself." Harrow forced out a chuckle, and another tear flowed down Marc's cheek, but Jake couldn't tell if this one was from physical pain or from embarrassment and anxiety. "I have no idea how many personalities he must possess. The man is clearly insane." Yeah he was one to talk.
Jake couldn't tell if it was Marc finally gaining full control of the body or Khonshu possessing them fully, but they took their left fist and swung it at Harrow.
It didn't get very far though, as the weird God-cult leader bound their hand, pulled it behind their back, and completely froze the body in place. "We will not tolerate violence in this chamber," he hissed.
Marc nodded, another tear threatening to fall from his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered, closing his mouth and breaking eye contact.
"It brings me no pleasure to tell you that this is a deeply troubled man," Harrow said. Right. No pleasure. It would bring Jake great pleasure to shoot his ass right now, though. "Khonshu is taking advantage of him the same way that he abused me, the way he aspires to abuse this court."
No, that was another lie. Khnoshu was not taking advantage of them. He saved them. He was the reason they were alive, the reason Jake's life had any meaning. Khonshu had done more for them than anyone else in their entire life.
"Take action now, before it's too late," Harrow finished, leaving Marc, Jake, and probably Steven in a state of misery and hopelessness.
Marc was no longer paying attention. He was trying to disassociate, Jake could feel his attempt to move back into the headspace. But, Steven and Jake were trapped there, which meant Marc was trapped, too.
"Let us speak to Marc Spector," a man said, and Jake could feel the weight of Khonshu's presence lift off of them. He still felt stuck, however, and he wondered if the chamber had anything to do with that.
Instead, Marc fell on his knees and tried his best to come back to reality after realizing he couldn't run away from this.
"Are you unwell?" The man asked him.
Say no, Marc. The survival of the world depends on your answer, here, Jake tried to reach out again. His luck so far in that department was poor, and Jake wished only momentarily that he could be Steven, who had a much easier time talking to Marc, even if the man struggled to get his point across. At least he could talk to him.
It's clear that Marc doesn't hear him when he nods. "I am," he said pathetically. "I am unwell." This was difficult to watch. It reminded Jake too much of... he didn't want to think about it. Not now. "I need help," he whispered, choking up as he said it. "But that doesn't change the fact that this man is..." he trailed off. Jake could tell it was taking everything in Marc to not break down into tears.
"This is a safe place for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu," Hathor told him.
Did... did Marc feel exploited by Khonshu? Surely not. He owed Khonshu everything. He saved their life. Surely... surely that wasn't the case.
Marc didn't say that, though. "This is not about my feelings! I'm not the one on trial here! He is!" He yelled. "This is about how dangerous he is if you would just listen for a second."
Jake knew it was too late, though. They had already blown it. "He has committed no offense," the ring leader said, confirming Jake's fears. "This matter is concluded," he finished, and everyone began to leave the chamber.
Jake could feel Marc attempting to reach for help from Steven, but they still couldn't move to the front. Desperately did Jake want to help, need to help, but he was stuck. And as Marc began to break down, still on his knees, he wanted so desperately to finally reveal himself to him and Steven. To beg Marc to leave so he could help. So close was he to ruining everything Jake had been building up since Marc and Steven forgot about him, but Yatzil's voice stopped him.
"Marc!" She called out, and Marc looked up at her. "There is another way." She gestured for him to follow her and he did, standing up, trying to gain his composure enough for a conversation. She walked back towards the entrance at which they had come in, and she sighed.
"You must listen to me carefully," she said, and Jake knew that this was not a conversation she was supposed to be having. Maybe she was into Marc after all.
"Yes. Yes," Marc urged, clearly just wanting to be out of there.
"Ammit was buried in secret. The location hidden even from the gods. Ammit had many followers. I didn't know who to trust."
Jake couldn't help but wonder why and how she happened to know something. Who was this woman? Jake decided that he liked her. She was mysterious and clearly enjoyed a good risk, just like him.
"But someone had to know something."
Yatzil nodded. "One man. A medjay named Senfu. He was tasked with recording the location of the tomb in case the gods ever changed their minds and decided to show mercy. Find Senfu's sarcophagus and you'll find your tomb."
"Okay, how am I supposed to do that?"
"His sarcophagus was stolen and sold on the black market. You might want to start there."
Marc nodded. "Thank you," he said, genuinely. She gave him a small smile and a wink before she left the chamber.
Marc left out of the door he had come in and immediately after leaving, Steven found the front and Marc sank back into the headspace. Jake didn't, though, and he watched as Steven sighed and looked at his reflection in a window in the alley they had found the portal in. "Marc?" He asked the reflection, and Jake decided to try something he never thought he'd do. He decided to talk to Steven.
He used all his willpower to put himself into the reflection, and when he blinked, there was Steven, staring back at him. It was odd, seeing the body from the outside. This is what it felt like? No wonder Steven didn't like being here. He felt very constricted, and he immediately regretted his decision. But, it was too late now. Steven was staring at him. "Steven," Jake said, trying to tone down his New York accent to match Marc's Chicago accent. He wasn't sure how well it worked, as Jake knew he really wasn't that great at impressions, but Steven seemed to buy it.
"Marc... what do I do now?"
Jake sighed. While it felt good to finally talk to one of his alters, he wished he could introduce himself fully. Not yet, though. Maybe someday. But it would not be today.
"We need to rest, Steven," Jake said, having to think about every word he said to avoid slipping back into his thick New York accent. "You don't have to do anything. I don't want you to get hurt."
Steven blinked. "Are you sure? What about Harrow? Shouldn't we try to stop him? Should I... do something?"
"Steven, there's nothing you can do right now. Leave that to me. You can go rest. We'll never stop Harrow if we don't sleep."
The man nodded, and Jake felt warm being able to protect the body without being in control. He liked talking to Steven. He liked being noticed.
"Okay. I'll get us some food and then go right to sleep so that you can find Senfu's sarcophagus, yeah?"
Jake nodded back at him. He hoped that Marc would be proud of Steven for being so willing to give up control. "Thank you. For everything," he said, feeling like he was speaking both for himself and Marc. "And... I'm sorry. About earlier." That was mostly for himself. Steven wouldn't know that, but it felt good to get it off his chest anyway.
Steven smiled a bit. "I forgive you," he said, finally turning away from the reflection, allowing Jake to sink back into the headspace and sleep for awhile.
Jake wasn't sure how long Steven had fronted for, but when he woke up and resumed his usual place taking semi-co-consciousness of the body, Marc was in control. He could feel that Steven was around, and he hoped the man had gotten a bit of sleep as well.
Marc was with Layla again, which Jake assumed meant nothing good, as they always seemed to be getting into trouble when she was around. They were talking to a man in a robe, and Jake didn't like his vibes either. He gestured towards something in front of them, and Layla and Marc began making their way towards it. "Please just let Steven out before you blow this," Layla was telling him.
"Not a chance," he hissed, seeming to be a little embarrassed by her request. "Alright, what do you see?"
"Well, the burial practices are in line with the Studenwachen texts," she said, confusing both Jake and Marc. Jake was sure that Steven knew what she was talking about, though, and he then understood why she had requested specifically for Steven. Interesting that she could already pinpoint Marc and Steven's strengths and weaknesses individually, considering she had just met Steven a few days ago.
"It's legit," she explained after Marc had asked. "But all I'm seeing is literature to guide the dead."
"Uh huh," Marc nodded along, not having a single clue what was going on. This was a time where Jake had to agree with Layla. It was best to let Steven take care of whatever the hell was going on here. He knew about shit like this. Marc was out of his element and the bastard was too stubborn to admit it.
Jake could feel people watching their back and he decided to stick around just in case. He knew Marc could handle himself in a fight for the most part, but Jake was never confident when it came to protecting the system. That was his job, and for the most part, he did it well. If it needed protecting, he'd be there.
"There's no location indicated," Layla continued, though she knew as well as both Marc and Jake that Marc was going to be useless here.
"Because the information has to be unlocked," Steven said from the reflection above them. Marc looked up and sure enough, there was Steven, waiting for his turn to take control. "It's coded."
Marc looked away from him and sighed. "Okay, um," he began speaking to Layla. "Will you give me a minute? I gotta talk to.. talk to Steven would you just.." he said Steven's name quickly, as if he were embarrassed. Jake understood, but it still stung a little, especially since he knew Steven was right there. "Just keep him occupied," Marc requested, and Layla didn't push, which Jake appreciated her for.
"Alright, Steven," Marc said after another sigh. "You wanna talk to me? Talk to me. What now?"
"What now? What now is you give me the body, and you piss off."
Jake couldn't help but be a little proud of the kid for standing up for himself. After all, he was right. Steven knew what he was doing here, and for once Jake worried that it was Marc who was going to get them killed, and Jake was not cool with that.
"Damn it, there is not time for this. If there is something that you know, you gotta tell me."
"Right, because you've never kept anything from me, right? I've already forgiven you, I've told you that, you don't have to be a wanker anymore."
"What? Whatever, we'll talk about that later. Look, everything I've kept from you was to keep you safe. The fate of the world is at stake here, Steven!" Marc, said, moving his hands aggressively as he spoke. Jake cringed internally a bit at the mention of his apology from earlier. Maybe speaking to Steven as "Marc" was a bad idea. After all, if he weren't careful, they could start talking and realize something was amiss. Hopefully that would be forgotten about.
"Sorry, but if you expect my help, it's not going to be while I'm imprisoned."
"Do you want a bloodbath? Huh?" Marc threatened. "Fine, have it your way," and he turned to leave. Jake could tell he was bluffing, but Steven didn't pick up on social cues so easily.
"Alright!" Steven caved. "You are the worst," he insulted, an insult Marc would probably mull over later. "Check the cartonnage," he said, defeated.
"Okay. What do I do?"
"Take that first piece and fold it over the middle piece."
Marc pointed at a piece. "This one?"
"Yes, that one."
Unsure of himself, Marc took the piece and began folding it over itself. "Like this?" He asked with a breathy sigh.
"Yeah."
"Wait a second," Marc said, as if he were starting to figure something out. Steven spoke again, though, likely interrupting Marc's train of thought.
"Now, if you match those stars up with the other piece over there, and put them together, it should make a star-"
Steven was interrupted by another voice, who grabbed their shoulder. "Hey, what are you doing?"
Marc acted instinctually, turning around immediately and grabbing the gun out of the man's hand and turning it to face him. He put his hands up, but Layla called out from just outside the small pyramid-shaped structure. "Marc! Don't," she urged, and Marc's eyes widened as he noticed the guns pointed at her.
"Shit!" He cursed, as he took notice of his surroundings. He gave the man back his gun, who immediately pointed it at them. Jake was going to kill Marc himself if he didn't get them out of there. He couldn't stop himself from protecting Layla. It was almost disgusting, really, in Jake's opinion.
"Do you really think I'm an idiot?" The man in the robe asked. Well, if his look was anything to go by, then yes, probably. But Jake said nothing.
"Get on your knees," the man told Marc, as two other men with guns ran in to point their weapons at Marc.
"Anton, stop!" Layla cried out, but the man named Anton ignored her.
"Get on your knees!" He ordered, and Marc obliged with no objection. He turned back towards Layla and shook his head. "Layla, I was so ready to make peace with you."
The men holding her at gunpoint pushed her into the room. "You don't understand, we're trying to save many lives."
"Hey pal," Marc interrupted. "Take a look inside the sarcophagus," he told them. Jake assumed it was an attempt to distract them so he could summon the suit, which was something Jake never understood. Marc didn't like to have Moon Knight's identity revealed to people, but in Jake's mind, there wouldn't be any witnesses anyway. Even though Steven probably wouldn't agree with it, Jake doubted that anyone other than them and Layla would make it out of this place alive. "There's something really, really big."
It appeared to work for a moment, but the man who was holding Marc at gunpoint stopped Anton and whispered something Jake couldn't hear into his ear. Then, Anton turned around, a smirk on his face. "Well, that's interesting. It appears we have a concerned third party here," he said, and began to walk back out of the small building. Marc turned to see who he was looking at and- great. This psycho again.
"Whatever they've told you," Arthur Harrow was saying from a distance. He had two men next to him, acting as what Jake assumed were bodyguards. "I'm sure I can offer you something much more tangible." With that, he pulled the scarab out of his pocket. Anton walked towards the lunatic, curiosity getting the best of him. "Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?"
Layla spoke up. "Anton. Anton, don't listen to this man. He's trying to stop us from reaching-"
"Please, stop," Anton cut her off.
"He's gonna kill millions, trust me!" She cried out in desperation.
"Are you seriously talking about trust?" He asked accusingly, venom in his voice, before diverting his attention back to Harrow.
"Please, there's no need to descend into violent accusations." God, Jake hated this man. His calming tone only made Jake hate him more. "Each one of you has so much more in common than you know." He looked to Layla first. "Layla, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds of your father's murder from reopening, but something stands in your way. Your husband doesn't tell you the truth."
Well, that was news to Jake. He had no idea what Harrow was referring to. But, the panic rising in Marc told Jake that Marc did. And here Jake was thinking he was the only one harboring some dark secrets.
"And Marc, you don't tell her because you know that if you do, she'll see you exactly as you see yourself: as unworthy of love." He was keeping his composure well in front of Layla, but Jake could feel how tense he'd become since the conversation had started.
"You piece of shit," he whispered, probably revealing more to Layla than he had intended, but Jake agreed with the sentiment.
Harrow ignored the insult and turned to the shirtless weirdo. "Anton, the lore surrounding these relics," he began, raising his stupid cane, "I offer proof that it's real." He began pacing, and Jake could hear the crunch of glass under his feet. "This sarcophagus doesn't belong to anyone."
"Do it. Summon the suit," Khonshu boomed from a nearby rooftop, diverting Marc's attention away from Harrow, whose face was way to close for comfort. "Give them what they deserve."
Jake had no idea why Marc was hesitating, but it was driving him insane.
"Anton, would you like to see for yourself?" Harrow asked.
"Yes. I do."
Harrow began chanting his weird shit, and Marc was still hesitating. He was just watching as the creeps engaged in their creepy shit. "What are you waiting for?" Khonshu asked, and suddenly it clicked for Jake.
Marc agreed with Harrow. He thought Khonshu was taking advantage of them.
He was going to get them killed, for fuck's sake.
"That's just a taste of the godly power I offer," Harrow said, revealing that the sarcophagus they had just dug through was now little more than ash. He snuck a quick glance at Marc as he walked away, and that seemed to snap him out of his trance. Finally, he summoned the suit and jumped on top of the building the sarcophagus was sitting in, which probably did nothing for him in regards to taking out all those men, but Jake did admit that they probably looked pretty cool right now.
Marc used one of his crescent blades to kill the man holding Layla, then jumped down, cape flowing in the wind as they fell.
People began screaming and running away, and an entire line of men with guns came out from the field the horse riders had been using and began shooting at them. Marc used his cape to protect Layla, who just told him, "Buy me some time."
"Yeah, I can do that."
Marc was definitely in his element now.
He used the cape to deflect the bullets back onto the men that had attempted to shoot them, killing almost all of them, and severely wounding the others. For the ones he missed, he threw his crescent blades at, disarming them instead of killing them. He then used the powers the suit offered him to his advantage, racing up to the now disarmed men to punch them hard enough to send them flying, kicked a man (while flipping, which Jake found to be a little overdramatic), and sent the crescent blade backwards into another man's chest. He pulled the blade back and used it to hit a man he had just kicked to the ground while yet another one grabbed his cape. Marc kicked another man before turning around and punching the man who held his cape.
As Marc was fighting, Steven was trying to push towards the front. "Marc! Stop it! Stop it!" He was saying. "No, Marc."
As much as Jake loved the kid, he really wished Steven would shut the fuck up.
He punched a man while another grabbed his arm. He turned and kicked the man in the shin, and when he didn't let go, just punched him in the face. Another man took a shot at him. Bad idea. Marc turned around and slapped the gun out of his hand before punching him a few times and grabbing him by the throat. He growled at the man. "Give me the body, Marc!" Steven said, and Jake saw Marc disassociating.
No, no, no, no, Steven was going to get them killed.
Suddenly, they were no longer wearing Moon Knight's armor, but Mr. Knight's suit, the one that Marc hated. "Oh! Sorry," Steven said, dropping the man that had just been in Marc's clutches. "Are you alright?" He asked, looking down at the man, who was now passed out on the ground.
He looked up. "That's it. Alright, time out!" He called out, making a gesture with his hands. If Jake were fronting, his palm would have hit his forehead. "That's it, time out! Let's all just calm down, yeah? We're all worked up. Let's all just like, chill the f out and talk for a second-"
He was interrupted by a spear in his back. Steven groaned. "Take the body!" He grunted as another spear went into his stomach. "Take the body, take the body, Marc."
Suddenly, Marc was back in front, and Jake doubted that Steven would ever interfere with a fight like that again. At least, he hoped.
Marc got stabbed again, then pulls the man who just stabbed them into a spear that was just jutting out of his chest, as another man stabs him in the back. Marc pushes them both away and falls to his knees as a man takes out his calf.
Another man runs over and takes out his hand, pinning him to the ground. Jake could hear another gunshot, and Marc glanced over just as a man on a horse was falling off. The source of the gun was none other than Layla, who was immediately hit in the head by Anton, who was on his own horse, and she fell to the ground.
This seemed to be the fuel Marc needed.
"Layla!" He called out, lowering the mask to reveal his face.
Him and Anton stared at each other for a moment before Marc put the mask back on and removed a spear from his chest, using it to fight away the other men with spears, stabbing them with the spears left in his own body, and they all fell around the same time.
Then, it was just Anton.
He trotted over towards Layla on his horse, but Marc and the suit were faster.
He rolled her out of the way, then threw a crescent blade at Anton, who fell off the horse, dead.
Well, that could have been worse.
Way worse.
Layla reminded Jake of Marlene.
Fuck. No. Don't think about her.
But he did, and he was brought back to the desert all those years ago.
"Marlene! Run!" He called out, and she tried running towards him, but Bushman was faster.
He ran after her, machete in hand, before he finally caught up to her, slicing her.
She gasped as she fell to the ground. "No!" Jake cried, running back to her.
Bushman scoffed at him. "You're a wimp, Jake Lockley," he told him. "You think this girl is more important than what we're doing here? Ammit is going to rid the world of evil. We will finally be free. You can have your own life. No more Marc Spector. No more Steven Grant. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Jake's ears were pounding. He couldn't hear. He could think only of Marlene. He didn't care about the job anymore. He just wanted her back. He just-
Jake woke up deep in the Innerworld. Something was about to happen, he could feel it. He needed to focus.
Using all his energy, he made his way towards the front, co-conscious with Steven next to him. "Marc, we need Steven," Layla told Marc. Jake had no idea what was happening but if it had anything to do with the pieces from the sarcophagus earlier, Jake assumed she was correct. "He understands all of this, I really think it's worth giving him a shot."
Marc seemed to consider it for a moment. "I summon the gods, you summon the worm," Khonshu said. "He won't return the body!"
Marc held his head and Jake wasn't focused enough to understand the emotion Marc was feeling at the moment. Anger? Remorse? Embarrassment? "Marc, we can't wait. It's okay, just let go!"
Angrily, Marc pulled the mirror off the side of the vehicle and grabbed the cloth pieces from the front of the truck. "What are you doing?" Layla asked, but Marc ignored her.
Marc sighed and threw all the pieces on the ground before staring into the mirror. "Alright, go ahead, you're in."
Jake had never seen a transition as smooth as that one. "Cheers, thanks a lot," Steven said, now fronting. Usually Marc would stay and watch Steven, in fact Jake suspected he watched Steven even more than Jake did (Jake found Steven's life to be a bit mundane for his taste, if he was being honest), but Jake felt Marc slip away into the headspace, leaving Steven alone with Layla (and Jake, but neither of them knew that).
Steven talked to himself as he quickly got to work on the cloth pieces, knowing exactly what he was doing, to no one's surprise.
"Steven?" Layla asked, and Jake hadn't even felt her creep on them. Steven looked over at her, stared at her for a moment, before he spoke.
"The Egyptians invented modern navigation," he explained, before looking back down at his work. "There's not a lot of landmarks in the desert, so they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. Bloody genius, innit?"
Layla nodded, and Jake noticed the faint traces of a smile on her face. He had a feelings things were gonna get complicated for her. "Yeah," she said quietly.
"Et voilà," Steven said, holding up a star made from the taped up bits of cloth.
"Whoa," Layla marveled, touching the star.
"It's French," Steven explained, and Layla laughed.
"I know." She was grinning now, and Jake was glad that Marc wasn't co-fronting so that he didn't have to see that Steven had more chemistry with Marc's wife than Marc did.
Layla took a deep breath, as if burying things that she wanted to say in order to spare Marc's feelings. "So what do we do with it?" She asked instead.
Steven thought about it for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure, but if..." He held it up to the light from the car's headlights. "Oh wait, hang on a minute," he stopped, clearly seeing something that Jake couldn't. "You see that? Those little pinpricks there? That's a constellation!"
"We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right? Let me just scan it."
Steven had a goofy grin on his face, which made Jake chuckle a bit. He hoped Steven couldn't hear him, but he didn't worry too much, since Steven tended to be a little less sensitive to what happened in the headspace than Marc was. Marc heard almost everything.
"Oh, well, um actually, unfortunately it's not that simple."
"Not working."
"Yeah, yeah, you see Senfu-"
"Why isn't it working?"
Steven grunted a bit in frustration at being interrupted. "Senfu marked that tomb like 2,000 years ago, and stars drift over time. Not much as far as stars go, but it could mean the difference between us searching miles and miles away from where we're supposed to be looking. So, unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date, we're buggered."
"I remember that night," Khonshu said, out of nowhere. Steven looked up at him. "I remember every night." He began walking over the dune, and Steven looked back at Layla, then pointed at Khonshu. Jake didn't have the heart to tell him that she couldn't see him.
He began walking in the direction that Khonshu had wandered off to, and Layla followed.
Steven looked up at the sky. Jake had forgotten how beautiful it was, especially when there was nothing else around. No city lights to take away from the magnificence that was the large magnitude of stars. It was nothing like New York, but Jake understood Steven's hyperfixation with it a little better now.
"Khonshu?" Steven called out.
"I can turn back the night sky," Khonshu offered.
"How?"
"It will come at a cost, and I cannot do it alone."
The wind began to pick up and the sand from the dune kicked up around them all.
"Steven, when the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me."
Fuck. This was bad news.
Steven took a deep breath, then he was wearing his suit again. He held out his hands, and Khonshu helped guide him. "Do what I do," he said, holding his hands above his head. Steven copied him.
"Yeah? Like this?" He asked, and Khonshu grunted with the effort. He began moving his left hand, and Jake watched as the sky moved in time with their movements. "Whoa," Steven exclaimed, echoing Jake's own thoughts. "Oh man, this is mental!"
They watched as the sky began spinning rapidly, moving so quickly that the stars appeared as nothing more than purple lines moving in the sky. Jake could only imagine the reaction from those who had no idea what was going on.
"This is the night," Khonshu said after a time, stopping the sky where it was. Steven continued to hold his hands above his head, and Jake could tell that it was physically straining him.
"This is surprisingly painful," he said, confirming Jake's suspicions.
"It's working!" Layla said, holding up her tablet to the sky.
"It's working. Yes. Good," Steven strained.
Behind them, Khonshu fell to his knees, and Steven groaned in pain. "I can feel my energy leaving me," he complained, his mask falling away. Steven looked at his hand, surprised that he was losing control of Khonshu's powers so quickly, then put his hand back up towards the sky in what Jake assumed was some sort of second wind.
Jake could feel the strength being sapped from Steven's body, almost like a rag being twisted and squeezed until there was no water left in it. He knew it was painful for Steven because even he could feel it, like his heart being crushed and part of his soul being removed. He was impressed with Steven's ability to be able to stand upright still, especially for someone who wasn't meant to take pain like that.
"Oh, God, I don't know how much longer I can do this," Steven said, looking over to Layla, who was still fiddling with her tablet. Khonshu cried out in pain, and Jake was surprised a god could feel pain like that.
He could hear a voice coming from the tablet, but Jake was too focused on resolving Steven of some of his pain that he couldn't focus on the words that were being said. "I got it!" Layla exclaimed. "29 degrees north, 25 east!"
Steven gasped and let his arm drop to the ground with the rest of his body.
They watched together as Khonshu's body seemed to dissolve into thin air, being bound in stone, just like he had warned.
Steven stood up, looked down at his body, which was no longer wearing the suit, then Steven dropped to the ground and everything went black.