The Tomb
Despite having never seen the Innerworld that Marc and Steven had (if Steven even had one, perhaps subconsciously he had created one, but Jake knew that until recently, Steven was always asleep in their Innerworld when someone else was fronting), Jake knew that his version was vastly different. Jake had no idea what comfort felt like to him. He didn't know much other than violence. It was what he was created for: to protect the system. Most of the time, in Jake's opinion anyway, that meant resorting to violence. His fists had solved a lot of their problems growing up, and that carried over into their adult life, where Jake knew little more than protecting the system and delivering Khonshu's justice to those that deserved it.
Violence was Jake's comfort, he supposed.
Jake kept his room distant from Marc and Steven's with hopes that neither of them would travel too far into the Innerworld to find it. The chances of that were low, however. Marc was usually fronting and Jake doubted that Steven had even seen the Innerworld. Jake knew it better than anyone. He rarely fronted, and for a long time, he had no interest in knowing what the two men he shared his head with were doing.
Since becoming Khonshu's avatar, however, Jake tried to keep a close eye out. Marc was the trauma holder but sometimes even he found himself unable to deal with the pain that came from being in the marines and then becoming a mercenary. Jake was equipped to handle the violence and the taking of lives. He was numb to it by now.
He was not, however, equipped to handle the emotional trauma, like Marc was. Jake's instinctual reaction was typically anger or violence, whereas Marc was able to take it, bury it, and then bring Steven out to deal with life for awhile. It was why Jake never bothered with anything more than a one-night stand with a woman, and he had seen enough from Marc's marriage to know that he wanted nothing to do with that.
There was one woman, however. Something about her he couldn't help but fall for. The way she smelled like musty vanilla. The way her long, blonde hair fell off her shoulders when she let it down. The way her eyes glimmered when Jake would speak to her in Spanish.
She was the only one who ever understood him. The only one Jake had ever told about their DID.
Jake sat on the bed in his room, which was really nothing more than some blankets on a piece of plywood, held together by some metal. He had no need for a big fancy bed. Something about beds with fluffy blankets and too many pillows made Jake stiff. He much preferred his simple little bed, or the one in Steven's flat.
His room was small with the walls around him bare as could be. It had a bookshelf which used to hold the many trophies he had won in his martial arts training (Marc would try to take credit for those, but Jake did most of the work, really), but now looking at the trophies reminded him of shit he wished he would just forget, so the bookshelf was now bare as the walls. Beside the bed was a punching bag that really helped him get out his anger when he got too worked up. He didn't like to front when he felt too angry. He knew that he had anger issues that were undiagnosed and likely a result of how he came to be, but he was afraid to see a doctor about it for fear that any sort of medication would take away his ability to protect the system the way that he did.
Jake sighed and walked over to the punching bag and began hitting it. He was worried, something he wasn't used to feeling. Before, they'd always had Khonshu. There was no reason to worry about death or getting injured. The only attachments he had left were to Steven and Marc, and if anything happened to them, it would happen to Jake, too, and Jake was never going to let that happen.
Now, though. Now they had an issue.
Khonshu was gone. There was no cheating death again. There was no healing from severe injuries. They were on their own. Sure, both Jake and Marc could handle themselves in a fight, but that didn't mean anything when they were outnumbered.
Jake wondered if they would have gotten out of Anton's alive had it not been for Khonshu.
He still owed Khonshu. Jake was not one to go back on his word, and now he felt vulnerable. Maybe he was relying too much on the bird brain, but he'd be damned if this was how they died. They needed Khonshu, more than they were willing to admit, and Jake suspected he was the only one that saw that.
He didn't realize how aggressive his punches had gotten until he hit the punching bag hard enough for it to knock back and hit him in the face. He grunted and grabbed his nose in pain. "Afable, Lockley."
How the hell Marc was supposed to free Khonshu from stone beat Jake. But, Jake was going to make sure it happened. Whether it was himself, Marc, or Steven that freed the bird, Jake was determined. They were not going to die at the hands of Harrow.
Jake finally decided to move to the front a little while later. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it was light out now, and Layla was helping whoever was fronting with a harness. They had arrived at the tomb, it appeared.
"I have to say, I feel like I've been waiting for this my whole life... the adventure I mean," Steven said, and Jake realized he could feel Marc next to him in the headspace. He wondered how Marc felt about Steven interacting with his wife the way that they did. Surely he could see the chemistry between the two. And, because Marc and Steven were so different, Jake couldn't imagine the man was too happy about it.
Layla smiled at him. "I know. We want what we never had."
"Yeah," Steven agreed, and Jake could tell that Steven was absolutely beaming at the opportunity of a lifetime. I mean, exploring an Egyptian tomb with a woman he found very attractive? A week ago, Steven would have lost his mind if you had told him that's where he'd be today. Jake was happy for him, even if Marc wasn't.
"You smell like him," Layla said affectionately, and Steven stared longingly at her. "I mean, why wouldn't you, right?"
"Yeah," he whispered, a little too caught up in the moment. This was starting to get awkward. Jake didn't know if he should leave or not.
Suddenly, she leaned in to kiss Steven, who took a deep breath and interrupted her. "Marc's trying to protect you from Khonshu," he blurted.
"What?"
"That's why he's been pushing you away."
Well, good on the kid for being loyal to Marc, Jake supposed.
"He thinks Khonshu wants you for his avatar, and he won't let that happen," he told Layla, almost word-for-word what Marc had said to Steven (well, and Jake) in that park a few days ago. Jake could feel Marc's guilt, and he couldn't tell if it was from not telling Layla himself or from the regret of going off on Steven. "It's alright, I just f-felt like you should know that," he stuttered. Layla reached behind her and grabbed a yellow glove to put on. "Sorry."
"Why are you telling me this now?" She asked, and Jake wondered if she had been a little hurt by the fact that Steven blurted out Marc's secrets instead of kissing her.
Steven looked away for a moment. "I don't know," he stammered. "I just thought you deserved to know."
She nodded and reached for the other glove. "Well, it wasn't his call to make. I don't need protection," she said, and Jake believed it. "What I need is honesty."
She sighed. "Yeah, I get that."
"That's more of a 'you' thing isn't it?"
Ouch. Jake could feel the sting of that one, and it wasn't even directed at him. He wondered if Layla could tell that Marc was listening to them. Maybe that was why Steven had duck out of the way of Layla's lips.
"What? Being uh..." Layla clipped the rope onto Steven's harness. "Honesty?"
Layla chuckled a bit. "Yeah." She smiled. "Being honesty."
She looked like she was about to cry. Steven put her hands on her shoulder, and next thing they knew, Steven was reaching over and meeting his lips to hers.
Muy bien, amigo, Jake thought to himself. Truthfully, he didn't think the kid had it in him. And, even if he was using Marc's face to his advantage, he was still kissing a woman, which was more than Steven had done his entire life, really.
Steven smiled. Marc did not. Jake could feel Marc's anger and jealousy, and he figured Steven probably could, too. He didn't waver in his good feelings, though. Steven had kissed a woman and he was clearly proud of it.
"I'm gonna go down first," Layla said, and Steven started nodding.
"Okay. Yeah. Great."
"Before I belay."
"Thank you," he said, needlessly. Steven held his hands up to his chest, something he did when he was excited about something. Jake recognized that look. He liked that look. "What's 'belay'?" He asked.
Layla chuckled. "I still can't tell when you're joking or not."
Steven didn't say anything, he just watched as she gracefully made her way down to the tomb.
Marc didn't say anything either, but he had enough anger built up that somehow, he was able to take control of their arm and punch Steven in the face. Well, more likely, it was Marc that Marc punched in the face, but the switch happened so fast that poor Steven had to take the brunt of the pain. "Oh, shit!" He exclaimed.
Just like that, Jake watched as Marc sank back into the headspace, into their Innerworld, and Jake restrained himself from giving Steven some encouragement. He was sure that Steven was proud enough to not care what Marc thought, but Jake wanted Steven to know that someone else was proud of him, too. He considered for a moment. Ah, ¿que demonios?
"Hey kid, I'm proud of you," Jake told him, startling Steven so badly that he screamed and fell right into the tomb.
Well, not Jake's intention, but at least he knew Steven could hear him.
"Are you okay?" Layla asked.
"I'm aces, yeah," Steven grunted.
"Here you go," Layla said kindly, helping him up.
Steven cleared his throat. "I wish you hadn't seen that," he admitted.
Whoops. Sorry, kid.
"Yeah."
"Thank you," he said with a smile, then looked behind Layla. "Oh wow, look at you."
Layla blushed a bit and looked up at Steven, then glanced behind her, realizing what Steven was actually looking at. "Oh, yeah," she said, clearly a little embarrassed. "They're.. gorgeous, aren't they? They've just like... been standing guard for centuries."
"Right?" Steven said, getting excited. "Look, I can't even..." he trailed off, clearly too excited for words. Jake loved seeing Steven like this. It was rare that anyone in the system found any joy, especially Steven, who indulged himself in books and documentaries due to the mundane nature of the life he led back in London. Watching Steven's dream come true standing inside of an Egyptian tomb was something that Jake hoped he'd never forget. "Like, if they just... sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I'd be thrilled. I'd shit myself, but I'd be thrilled."
Jake suddenly felt that tickle of worry that he felt earlier. It was a familiar feeling, as he got it often when Marc had been in the military, but it had been a long time since then. Now, without Khonshu's protection, he was not willing to ignore the feeling. Jake's instincts were almost always right, and he could feel that something was about to go wrong. Very wrong.
But, with Steven fronting and Marc back in the Innerworld, the best Jake could do was wait. He could take the body when danger presented itself or...
He could pose as Marc again. Help Steven through whatever shit was about to go down.
Jake decided he'd wait til the moment arrived to make his decision.
For now, he just watched as Steven flashed his light on everything that intrigued him. Jake didn't want to interrupt him, anyway. Steven deserved something nice for himself, and Jake liked just watching him.
"It's a maze," Layla said.
"It's a-maze-ing," Steven joked, still clearly in awe over the whole thing.
"No, like there are six paths."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Steven replied, clearly not really listening. "Right. Six points." Jake could feel the gears turning in Steven's head (well, Jake's head, too, really). He was catching onto something.
"What are you thinking about?" Jake asked Steven, putting forth his best impression of Marc.
Steven then began drawing something on the small platform on the ground in front of them. Jake somewhat recognized the symbol he drew, but he had no idea what its significance was, or what it had to do with the maze they found themselves in. "This whole structure," he began, "is a symbol."
"That's the Eye of Horus," Layla clarified.
"Yeah. Look at that!" Steven told her, gesturing to the room around them and the six different possible paths they could take.
"What?"
"Right?" Layla chuckled a bit.
"Great. Good. What does it mean, Steven?"
"It's the royal symbol, protection in the afterlife," he answered. Jake felt the same joy he had felt when he first talked to Steven face-to-face. Even if Steven thought he was speaking to someone else, the acknowledgement felt nice, and Steven certainly wasn't saying this for Layla's sake. Jake was confident she knew everything that Steven was saying. He was speaking directly to Jake.
"I mean, like, the resources needed to build this thing..." Layla said, trailing off, probably in just as much awe as Steven was. She paused, then thought for a moment. "Her final avatar was a pharaoh."
"Whoa! A bloody pharaoh!" Steven squealed.
"So... what? You think it's a map?"
"Yeah, well..." Steven paused for a moment to collect his bearings. Jake could feel how overwhelmed Steven felt, and he was glad that it was overwhelming joy, not sadness or pain. "Right. So, the Eye of Horus is also the eye of mind, yeah?" Layla immediately caught onto what he was saying and she smiled. "Representing the six senses, six points." He gestured to the different paths around them. "So you got the eyebrow which denotes thoughts. Pupil, sight, obviously. This point here is uh, hearing. Smell. Touch. And this long line ending in a spiral is the tongue."
Layla looked at the map, and Jake could practically see the gears turning in her head. "The avatar would be Ammit's voice."
Of course. The two of them together were a perfect pair of nerds. It was a shame they hadn't met sooner, really.
"That's right," Steven nodded.
They both looked towards the same path, and Layla followed right behind Steven. The corridor was very skinny, which Jake was not a particular fan of (if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was small spaces), and he was once again glad it was Steven fronting and not him. The corridor let into a large room, with an odd table in the center. Something about the room felt off, and the smell alone made Jake uneasy. He was used to the smell of dead bodies, but this was rank. With the smells from being underground and inside something that was literally thousands of years old mixing with the scent of fresh blood, Jake wanted to vomit. How Steven was able to stand in the room without losing yesterday's dinner on the floor really beat Jake. He didn't have a weak stomach, but boy, this would have been too much even for him.
"Oh wow," Steven said, finally taking in all of the room. Perhaps he was too distracted by the fact they were in an undiscovered Egyptian tomb to be disgusted by the smell. Maybe Steven wasn't accustomed to the smell of dead bodies. Maybe Steven just wasn't as sensitive to it as Jake was. Now there was an odd thought.
"Oh, Heka priests," Layla said simply. "Judging by their masks and ceremonial stance. They would have been entombed in here to protect the pharaoh."
"The heck's a Heka?" Steven asked, taking Jake by surprised. Steven Grant didn't know something about Ancient Egyptian culture? And here Jake was, thinking Steven had practically given himself a PhD in the subject at this point.
"Sorcerers of their time," Layla explained. "They've been down here for centuries. These must be some of the unlucky souls who crossed their path." She pointed her flashlight at the weird mummified mannequins standing in front of them. Jake, of all people, hoped they weren't actual people. But he doubted the opposite was true.
"Quite an impressive sendoff."
Steven turned his attention towards the table in the middle of the room, then gagged. "Oh my God. Oh God. Is that fresh blood? Isn't that little chunks of meaty bits?"
"Keep your eyes open, Steven. Harrow's men could show up at any time," Jake warned.
Layla investigated the table herself. "Oh yeah." She crouched down and looked at whatever was beneath the table. "Oh," she said in a disgusted tone.
Steven appeared to be paralyzed in fear. Jake was glad when Layla spoke for him. "Let's keep moving," she suggested.
"Yeah," Steven whispered, and Jake could feel the fear beginning to grip the poor man. So much for a dream come true.
Then, Steven noticed the trail of blood on the floor in the direction they were heading. "Um, just a minute. Just a minute. Um. I'm just like.. I'm just saying what I see, and I see lots of bones and blood going that way, and... so I'm just thinking like..." he turns his head behind him, trying to find some sort of other exit. "What if... there's maybe another..." He trailed off, using his flashlight to try and light up the shelf above their heads. "There's like another..." Finally, he seems to find something, and he points to it. "I think there's an opening up there. You see that?"
"Yeah!"
"Should we check it out?"
"Yeah, let's check it out." For once, Layla sounded scared, too.
"Alright."
"Alright. You go."
"Me?"
Layla nodded. "You."
Steven's fear was still growing, but he agreed. "Yeah. Alright. Yeah."
He found a place where he was able to pull himself up, and after a bit of a struggle, he managed to wiggle his way up to the upper level. "Alright, yeah. I did it. I'm up." He gave a little thumbs up to Layla.
"You good?" She asked.
"Yeah."
He stood up and began looking at his new surroundings. "So, according to the ancient texts, Ammit should be bound to an ushabti."
"What the hell is that?"
"Those statue thingies," Steven answered, almost before Jake finished the question, as if he knew that he was going to be asked about it.
"How's it looking?" Layla asked from below.
Steven was once again in awe. "It's looking amazing," he answered, missing the point of her question completely. "I mean, this... it looks like a freshly filled canopic jar, and snake skin, and self-regeneration-"
"Steven? Steven?"
That seemed to knock Steven out of his trance. "Yeah?"
"The exit?"
"Yeah," Steven replied, a bit bummed out.
Hold on, self-regeneration? Was that a thing in Egyptian mythology? Jake didn't know jack shit about Egypt other than what he had learned from Steven, which wasn't much, clearly. Jake really didn't have anything like that he could talk about for hours, although, he did spend a little bit of time in a mechanics shop, and attempted to take in every word that the mechanic was telling him. So, he supposed, maybe he could talk for awhile about that. He did love cars, but he doubted his passion (if you could even call it that) was as great as Steven's was. Still, that self-regeneration shit sounded like bad news. And he would know. He worked for Khonshu for ten years.
Steven focused his efforts on finding the way out, but that didn't stop him from commenting on the artifacts surrounding him. "It's mental," he whispered.
He finally found the exit, and he called down to Layla. "Yep, yep. Yeah, we can go this way."
The sound of gunfire drew both of their attention, and Jake thought he could feel their heart skip a beat. "Harrow," Layla concluded.
"What are they shooting at?" Steven asked, and Jake had been wondering the same thing himself.
"I don't know."
"Alright, Stevie, time's up, time to give me the body." Jake was so worried he didn't even bother to drop his New York accent in favor of Marc's Chicago accent. He doubted Steven would notice. The man was too afraid at the moment.
Their would-be argument was cut short by the sound of clicking coming from the skinny corridor they had taken into the room. "Hide. Hide!" Steven told Layla in a whisper-yell.
Jake did not like what was happening. He had no idea what was making the noise, but it was a grotesque sound. It was as if someone was both clicking their tongue and dry heaving simultaneously. It didn't sound human. When the thing came limping into the room, its skin was completely black, and it dressed in some odd costume as if it were a kid on Halloween. Only, this thing was adult-sized, walking on all fours as it dragged a man twice its size and placed it on the table in the center of the room, right where Layla was hiding.
"Steven. Give me control."
No way, Steven answered back in their mind. Layla's life is at stake here. Do you really want to put her life at risk while you... I don't even know what you would do here. Khonshu is gone, Marc. You said it yourself. 'No more healing.'
Jake went quiet in response. He knew that in a way, Steven was right. Jake's methods would certainly put Layla's life in danger, but that wasn't his primary concern. It would, however, be Marc's, and Jake was currently pretending to be Marc. There was no way he could justify taking control without revealing who he was or what his intentions would be. Plus, he had no idea what this thing was capable of. They were currently out of the way of danger. They just had to hope that Layla could take care of herself.
They heard what sounded like a stab, then a grunt from the man that had been placed on the table. Steven moved a bit so he could see what was happening, and his face squinted in disgust as he watched whatever the hell that thing was slice the man open and begin to remove his organs.
That was fucking digusting.
It did explain why the room smelled so rank, though.
Steven had to hold his mouth to keep from gagging and revealing their position.
The steady drip of blood was the only sound in the room, until they heard a very light clank of jars, and Steven glared at Layla as she trembled, slowly putting the jar back upright.
Oh, fuck. She was going to get herself killed.
The thing clicked and started moving in her direction.
"Steven, this would be a great time to switch out."
Please, I'm begging you, shut the hell up.
Trying to talk to Steven was a bad idea, as it distracted him, and he leaned forward, causing the wood to creak. Steven gasped and leaned back, covering his mouth from shock. It was too late, though. The thing heard.
It grunted, and jumped onto the table, trying to get closer to them. Steven was terrified to the point that even Marc, deep in the Innerworld, could feel his fear, and Jake felt as he approached the front. Jake was sure he contributed to that as well, as he was equally petrified of this thing.
Steven's eyes were wide and he slowly tried to back away from the edge of the platform. It was right under them, now, and it snarled, scaring Steven, who stood up and began backing away. His breaths were shallow and quick.
It jumped again, and Jake could see the thing's black, long fingers peek out from inbetween the wooden planks. It creeped closer towards the edge of the platform until its entire arm was over, just waiting for an opportunity to climb up and-
CRASH!
Steven screamed at the sound of the jar breaking, and he looked down to Layla. "Run!" He shouted. "I'll find you!"
They watched as Layla sprinted out of the exit they had originally planned to take and Steven pushed the table he had been looking at over the edge, crushing the thing under its weight. "I squished it," Steven mumbled, terror still in his voice. "I squished it."
"Steven, run!" Marc told him, and the kid obliged, dashing out of the exit he had found earlier.
He ran for a bit, and Jake could feel all of their terror slowly sink away. Whatever the hell that thing was, it wasn't chasing after them. Jake was proud of the kid for overcoming his fear. Normally, Steven would run away from it, both physically and mentally, but Steven had stayed to be there for Layla. Jake considered it character growth for the kid. He wondered if that had more to do with Jake and Marc or Layla.
Steven stopped in the corridor to catch his breath. They couldn't hear Layla from where they were, and Jake hoped that had more to do with the fact that the damn tomb was so large. He hated to admit it, but Jake had come to actually like Layla. She could be una polla, sure, but he supposed that was bound to happen when you married a man like Marc Spector. Not that Jake had anything against Marc, but he knew his hermano was as prickly as Jake was.
"Hey, Steven," Marc called out to him. "You did good back there. I'm proud of you."
Steven either ignored him or was too busy catching his breath to reply. He pushed forward, though, and immediately his demeanor shifted again. "Oh my days," he awed. He stepped on a few rocks that sat on top of a small pool of water surrounding a large platform where the sarcophagus sat, but Steven was barely watching his footwork. "First one in. Tomb fit for a pharaoh. Thutmose II, Nefertiti, oh it's got to be one of the big'uns."
"So," Marc called out again, placing himself in the reflection of the water below them and this time gaining Steven's attention. "You kissed her."
Was this really the best time for that? Steven was enjoying himself. Let him have that, Marc.
Steven looked down at him and scoffed. "What are you gonna do? Try to drown us now?" He joked dryly.
"Yeah, I should." Steven went back to not paying attention. "But you also... told her the truth about why I've been pushing her away. And that was... unexpected."
Steven clearly had no interest in continuing that conversation. "Yeah," he replied, before returning to ogling at the tomb he found himself in.
"Oh, wow, look at that. Look at all these relics!" Jake could feel Marc chuckle beside him in the headspace, and he supposed that Marc wasn't too upset about Steven's lips on his wife's face.
He looked around a bit more, then stopped. "Macedonian? No, what?" He stepped closer to the sarcophagus. "No way, that's not right. That can't be right. That's Macedonian!" He was thinking out loud again. Maybe it was for Jake and Marc's benefit. "But the only pharaoh... but, but I mean he insisted on calling himself Egyptian!" Steven was clearly way more excited about it than Jake or Marc were, but they let him ramble at them anyway. "But..." Steven stood up, mouth agape, absolutely beaming over his realization. "I think we're looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great."
They let Steven stand there for a moment as he took it all in.
"Well, go ahead. Open it."
"Open it?"
"Don't forget why we're here, Steven."
Steven sighed. "Yeah alright." He walked to the right side of the sarcophagus and exhaled. He went to start pushing the lid off, then stopped. "Everything inside me is like, screaming not to open this thing."
Well, not everything.
"You want Harrow to get to Ammit first?"
Steven paused, then sighed. "Alright, alright, alright."
He took a big breath, then began to push the lid. It was bigger than Jake realized, upon further glance, and he did have to admit that it was pretty cool looking. A little too dramatic for his taste, but most things were, really.
Steven grunted from the effort, but he didn't stop until Alexander the Great's mummy was completely exposed for the first time in centuries. "Oh, man," Steven whispered, still geeking out.
"Where's the ushabti?" Marc asked, placing himself in the reflection of some sort of golden tablet that was inside the sarcophagus with the mummy.
"Oh, well, I mean, if you're gonna hide it for all eternity, you'd probably put it in a place where... the average looter wouldn't think to look," Steven replied, as if he dealt with this kind of shit every day.
"So, what do you think?"
"Um..." He stopped to think. "Alexander was the voice of Ammit," he said, and simultaneously, the three of them realized what needed to be done. "Alright. I'm gonna try something. I'll do something here." He grabbed the wrap that was protecting the face of the mummy and began to rip it off. "Sorry. Oh God. So sorry. Sorry, Mr. Great."
Steven squinted his face in disgust as the fabric ripped. Yeah, Jake was sure that was fun.
"Alright, open up," Steven said as he pulled open the jaw of the mummy. Oh sorry, Mr. Great." He closed his eyes for a moment as if trying to build up the will to reach down the throat of a corpse. Not the worst things those hands had touched, but definitely not the cleanest. They'd definitely need a long shower after this trip.
"So sorry. I couldn't be more sorry."
He began reaching down Alexander's throat. "Ugh. Ew." The poor man couldn't even look at his hand, and Jake could understand. He probably wouldn't be too happy about that task, either.
"Yeah, that's it. Get in there," Marc encouraged, and Jake hated how much it came off as an innuendo. "Reach in there, buddy."
Steven nearly gagged and Jake couldn't tell if that was from Marc's encouragement or from whatever the hell their hand was touching.
He squelched and squirmed, but eventually, he managed to pull out the little statue thingie. He stared at it for a moment, ducking when he heard footsteps, but immediately popping back up when he saw it was Layla coming into the room. Jake couldn't help the relief he felt at the sight of her.
Steven grinned. "Layla! Look! We won!" He laughed. "And the ushabti goes to: us." Jake was happy for Steven, but he couldn't help but notice the anger in Layla's face. He had no idea what had happened with her, but she was clearly pissed at something, and he doubted Steven was helping things, even if he was just showing his excitement. "I mean, I had to go digging down old Alexander the Great's gullet, but I found it!"
He laughed again, then finally started to notice that something was wrong. "You alright, love?"
"Can he hear me?"
Uh oh. Something was very, very wrong.
"Alexander? I don't think so. God, I hope not," Steven chuckled.
"What happened to my father?" Layla asked, slowly approaching them. Steven's smile fell. "I'm talking to you."
"What?" Steven asked.
"I'm talking to Marc!" She exclaimed, pushing them a little. Steven couldn't take it anymore, and he basically did the equivalent of pushing Marc into oncoming traffic. Jake couldn't blame him, though. This was Marc's baggage. Steven had nothing to do with it.
In fact, neither did Jake. He had no idea what she was talking about.
"Come on, let's go, let's go, let's go," Marc said, immediately trying to run away from his problems. As usual. Clearly he had learned nothing from Steven.
"No."
"Layla, we need to go right now," Marc begged, and Jake agreed, but she clearly wasn't going to let this go.
"Marc. No. No!"
"Stop. Stop!"
"What happened to my father?"
"Listen to me. We need to leave right now. I will explain everything, I swear, but we have to go."
Layla shook her head. "Did you kill Abdullah El Faouly?" She asked.
Oh God. Had Marc? Had Jake? He couldn't remember.
"Of course not," Marc said, desperately. "Of course I didn't."
Layla didn't speak for a moment, her eyes not meeting Marc's until she spoke again. "But you were there. You were there."
Marc took a deep breath. "I-"
"Yeah, you were there."
Marc spoke his next softly and carefully. "I was there. Yeah, I was there."
Layla was on the verge of tears, now. "Yeah. And... how...how did he die?"
"My partner got greedy and he... he executed everyone at the dig site."
Wait. His partner. Bushman?
The dig site. Marlene. Jake was there, too.
"I tried to save your father, but I couldn't save him and I..."
Jake tried to save Marlene, but he couldn't save her and he...
"No," Layla said. "But you brought a killer right to him." She pushed Marc a bit and the venom in her words stung even Jake. "Right?"
Marc nodded. "Yeah."
"Yeah."
"He shot me, too, I was supposed to die that night."
That was... so Marc and Jake had both lost something that night.
"But I didn't die that night and... I should've."
"Marc-" Steven tried but Marc blocked him out.
"I tried to tell you since the moment we met."
Layla began to laugh.
"I just... didn't know-"
"Oh my god," Layla said, her hands over her face.
"I'm sorry," Marc whispered, but Layla wasn't having it.
"That's the reason that we met. You just had a guilty conscience."
There was silence for a moment. Then, the sound of a gun clicking and footsteps in the corridor Steven had come through. "They're here," Marc said.
That was a lot to take in. They had to break out of that state of guilt and shame and sorrow and immediately switch over to fight mode. This mission had become much more complicated than Jake expected it to. He did not feel confident about their chances, and he considered himself an optimist.
"There must be another way out," Layla said, wiping away a stray tear. Marc threw his backpack on the ground and picked up an axe-like weapon from Alexander's sarcophagus.
"Okay. Go find it, I'll hold them off."
Marc stood in front of the sarcophagus, putting himself in a fighting stance. He looked awkward, but Jake supposed it was to be expected after the conversation that had just occurred. Even he might have looked unprepared and awkward after that.
"Come on!" Marc called out, just as a man came shuffling in. No, two men. No-
Dear god. They were so fucked.
A dozen or so men were now in the tomb, pointing guns right at them. This was the definition of don't bring a sword to a gun fight.
Marc slowly lowered his axe, coming to the same realization that Jake had.
"Just you?" Harrow asked.
Well, no. Not quite.
"The rest is silence."
Still no. Move along, cabrón.
"I remember the first morning I woke up, knowing that Khonshu was gone. The quiet was liberating."
Did this man not remember humiliating them for their disorder just yesterday?
"You're a free man! And of course, with that freedom comes choice. And right now, you have a very important decision to make."
Harrow was glaring at them. Thinking he had won. That it was over. Jake knew better, of course.
Steven was petrified. Marc was determined. Jake was prepared.
Marc glanced over at the men to Harrow's right, then to his left. "Okay," he said quietly, and the man on the right slowly walked over to them.
Then, what Jake suspected was out of pure spite, Marc yelled, and stabbed the man in the arm as he grabbed and pulled his gun away. This was not like Marc. He was not thinking. He was reacting purely on impulse. It worked for Jake, but Marc had years of military training. He should be using it and instead, he was wildly slashing people until-
Bang.
Intense pain flashed. Jake felt himself front, then back to Steven, then back to Marc. They stumbled backwards, slowly. Harrow had... he shot them. In the chest.
It was fine! They could just heal. They could summon the suit and-
Khonshu. Was gone.
Pain. All Jake could feel was pain.
Bang.
Again, the pain flashed. Jake couldn't tell who was fronting anymore. He could barely see. All he could feel was the pain in his chest from the two bullet holes. He felt the cool touch of water below them. They had fallen into the pool that surrounded the tomb. They were going to die there.
"I can't save anyone who won't save themselves," Harrow's voice echoed.
Jake was trying with every bit of energy he had left to keep them alive, but he could feel himself sinking. Sinking.
Until everything went black.