Keep Your Friends Close...
Marc barely had time to dump his bags in his hotel room before shit hit the fan.
The whole reason for coming all the way to Cairo was to find Harrow, to stop him before he found the tomb of Ammit and unleashed her fury upon the world. The plane ride had been spent with the three of them making a plan, three voices rattling around one skull – Steven weighing in with his knowledge of Egypt, Marc with his hard-won expertise as a mercenary, and Khonshu with his constant contempt for Arthur Harrow and the gods who’d banished him. Obviously, the latter wasn’t as helpful to the cause as Khonshu so clearly thought. If he weren’t an insanely powerful god, Marc would probably have snapped that stupid beak off his head and shoved it where the sun don’t shine by now.
But Steven was co-operating, and that was important. The plane ride had given them time to get more comfortable with each other, and for Marc to tell Steven a little about his history. Not too much, just enough to satisfy his curiosity – Steven was nothing if not inquisitive, which Marc supposed was why he knew practically everything there was to know about Egyptology. Maybe he would tell him more, Marc thought to himself, eventually. Maybe he would tell him, when the time was right.
But now was not that time.
Marc had been walking through the streets of Cairo for all of twenty seconds when he saw him, standing in an alley, dressed as always in red, crocodile-headed cane in hand.
“Well,” Steven’s voice rang through his head, ever the optimist. “That was easy.”
“Too easy,” Marc muttered in response, frozen in time as he stared down the alley. Harrow was watching him, completely still. He made no move to run. He’s got the scarab, Marc thought, perplexed. Why isn’t he running?
Well, if Harrow was going to make this simple, why try to fight it? It was about time something worked out for him, anyway. Without another thought, Marc approached.
Harrow smiled slightly as he reached him, still not moving an inch. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Marc. Or is it Steven, this time?”
Marc bared his teeth. “You know what I’m here for. You’re not getting to that tomb.”
“I’m curious,” Harrow drawled, sauntering forward. “Does it ever get crowded, having so many voices inside one head?” Marc stilled as he noticed figures gathering around them, blocking his exit from the alley, forming a line behind Harrow himself. This was weird. Maybe they were just going to kill him, but Harrow of all people should know that was near impossible while he had Khonshu. Harrow’s tone was gentle, as though talking to a spooked horse. “I’m curious, do you think he chose you because he knew it would be so easy to get into a mind that was already broken?”
“I’m not broken,” Marc snapped, and Harrow merely raised a brow. “And I know what you’re doing. Quit stalling.”
“He’ll never let you go, Marc, trust me,” Harrow replied, spreading a hand in what was undoubtedly false concern. “There will always be something else Khonshu wants. Your indenture will never end with him.”
“And that makes you the good guy, huh?” Marc sneered, approaching. Harrow’s people tensed, snakes waiting to strike. Marc laughed derisively, jutting a finger at the man in front of him. “That makes everything you’re trying to do suddenly okay? That’s bullshit, and you know it, Harrow.”
Harrow merely sighed, both hands coming to rest on his cane. “I had hoped you’d see reason, Marc. Perhaps Steven would’ve seen things differently.”
“Nope,” Steven’s voice chirped inside his head. “I still think murdering millions of people is bad, you absolute twat.”
Good to know they were on the same page. Mostly.
“Give me the scarab,” Harrow enunciated slowly. “There is no need for violence.”
What?
Marc stepped back as if he’d been pushed, feeling like he’d just been slapped across the face. His eyes widened so far he thought they might pop out, and it took all of his self-control to contain his shock. Harrow stepped forward again, closing the distance between them. “Give me the scarab, Marc. I will not ask again.”
Oh, this is bad.
Time to improvise.
“You’ll never get that scarab, Harrow.” Marc growled, raising his arms. “I’ll never let that happen.”
Harrow nodded, mouth pressed into a hard line. He stepped back, his followers crowding before him, placing themselves between them. “So be it.”
The sound of metal against metal ricocheted off the walls of the alley, a dozen weapons being pulled in unison. Marc threw his head back, the power of Khonshu coursing through his veins, his limbs imbued with power and strength as the suit of armour materialised around him, covering his body. His eyes glowed with fury, the wrath of the god of the moon filling his bones with purpose. The disciples of Ammit advanced, and the Moon Knight met their force with his own.
It was over quickly.
* * *
Marc had been on edge before. But now he felt just about ready to blow.
“Steven,” Marc uttered as he stormed through the hotel room door, shutting it carefully behind him. “Did you tell anyone about this?”
He was met with Steven’s image in the cracked mirror, wringing his hands anxiously. Khonshu appeared at the end of the room, expectant. Steven didn’t answer.
Harrow does not have the scarab. Khonshu glowered, the tension in the room building tangibly. Would either of you like to explain how you lost it to a completely unknown third party?
Marc’s words were sharp as a razor’s edge. “Who did you tell, Steven?”
“What makes you think I told anyone?” Steven retorted, his frustration rising. “You both kept me in the dark about all of this for who knows how bloody long!”
“Well Harrow doesn’t have it,” Marc hissed, forcing his anger to a simmer. He couldn’t get angry with Steven, especially now. “Why would he come for us if he had the scarab?”
So someone else has stolen it, Khonshu interjected. But who else has stake in this game?
“I haven’t told anyone,” Marc reasoned, forcing his frustration to bottle itself inside his chest. “Which leaves only you, Steven. You must’ve let it slip to someone”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Steven repeated, growing desperate. “I’ve basically gone M.I.A from my job since I accidentally destroyed the museum bathroom, remember? I haven’t even seen anyone except – ” He cut off, causing both Marc and Khonshu to pause. Steven brought his hands to his mouth, meeting Marc’s stare in the reflection of the mirror. “Oh, god, no.”
“What? What is it?” Marc pressed. “Who did you tell?”
Khonshu slammed his staff on the ground. Spit it out, worm!
“Well the thing is,” Steven confessed. “I sort of…told my date.”
* * *
They called her.
Marc had unblocked Zara’s number, which was something Steven didn’t even know he’d done – he planned on giving him hell for it later – and they’d called her, and Zara had actually picked up the phone.
“Steven?” Her voice came clear down the line, and Marc instantly got to work. Steven couldn’t speak aloud, not while Marc had control, and he was too busy tracking her phone to bother trying to imitate Steven’s voice. She spoke again. “Steven, are you there?”
He so desperately wanted to talk to her – she’d been the only one who’d really listened to him, who didn’t think he was completely bonkers. She’d been the only one who’d believed him. And now, Marc was convinced this woman that he didn’t even know was the one who’d stolen the scarab from his storage locker. How he could have such conviction about someone he’d never even met was completely beyond Steven. He’d even tried to tell Marc as much, but he wouldn’t have it – not until he knew for sure.
Marc hung up on her abruptly. “Got it.”
“And?” Steven asked quickly, feeling the anxiety rise within him like a tide.
Marc sat back on the bed, seeming almost relieved. “She’s in Cairo.”
“What – how could you know?” Steven blurted in complete disbelief. “You were only on the phone for like, ten seconds.”
“Yeah, Stark tech is good like that. Very efficient.”
“No. No. This must be wrong.” Steven felt himself collapsing inward, the despair of betrayal gnawing at his insides. “This can’t be right. It can’t be.”
“I’m sorry Steven, really. But we have to stop her.”
“But – we don’t even know she wants to raise Ammit!” Steven protested. “She could be trying to help – keep the scarab safe from Harrow, or…or something.”
“We can’t take that chance,” Marc reasoned, trying to console him at the same time. “Not with the world at stake.”
And so they left, Khonshu in tow, to ambush the one person Steven had finally felt connected to. He hadn’t known her very long, but the thought of Zara betraying him felt like someone had carved his chest hollow. He had no idea what she could want with the scarab, if she wasn’t with Harrow. He had no idea if Marc was right about her being the enemy. He had no idea what to make of…well, any of it.
All he could do was hope that Marc was wrong.