Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“GO BACK TO SLEEP, WORM!”

“Gah! What the bloody, ah, Christ, that hurts, yup, okay.” Steven shot up on his feet.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Surrender the body to Marc.”

Instead of being in his flat, asleep next to Layla in his bed, he was in one of the places he wished he’d never have to go back to.

“Marc? Wait, Khonshu? Hold on, what’s- oh. Oh bloody that’s not right, why are we in the alps again? Nah, this isn’t right, yeah, not right at all.”

“Oh great, the idiots in charge.”

“Oh shut it you dusty old pigeon, what the hell are we doing back here? Marc? What’s going on Marc?”

Steven just barely dodged the bullet aimed directly for his head. More bullets landed around him.

“Ah right, forgot about this part here.”

Steve ran a little less pathetically from the gunfire this time around, dodging bullet after bullet before he lost his pursuers in the village.

Steven took out a few nearby guards and hid their passed out bodies in a dumpster. If he’s really back in the past, maybe he can play this a little bit smarter this time around, yeah? He checked his pocket and saw that he had the Scarab, which all but confirmed that he was, in fact, back in the past.

“Alright, you bloody child murderers, I ain’t gonna let you have it this time.”

He moved further down into the village, sneaking around and dispatching guards. No sign of Harrow yet, but he couldn’t be too far now could he? He opened the door leading to the bell tower overlooking the main plaza for a better view.

Meanwhile, Khonshu was in a heated argument with Marc, and decided that now he’d try to talk to Steven. Great.

“How did you do that, worm?”

Steven responded back in a hushed tone,“Do what? Marc’s job? Well, I mean, it is my job to protect him innit? ‘When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear!’ And all that jazz.” He knocked out another guard on his way up the bell tower.

Khonshu was, for once, silent.

“I’m not sure what exactly happened before I woke up last time, but I do know that any second now, Harrow is gonna show up, and then we can take him out early, before he ever gets the chance to get to Ammit’s Tomb, sound good Bird-brains, Marc?”

“You know things you shouldn’t, Steven Grant. I can’t feel your mind, only Marc’s. What is it you mean by ‘this time around’?”

“Ah, well, to be honest I’m still tryna wrap me head around it, but I’m pretty sure that-“

The bell tower rang, and the townspeople began to gather around.

“Alright, any second now… come on you Ned Flanders rip off…”

He spotted Arthur Harrow walking towards the center, who began his little speech. Steven waited and listened, waited for his time to strike.

“Praise Ammit, who would like to go first?”

Showtime. He jumped down from the clock tower and landed a few feet behind Harrow.

“I would! Do me first!”

Harrow turned around and saw a strange man in a dirty tan jacket and jeans staring back at him, a big toothy smile on his face and his hand up, as if he were asking a teacher to use the latrine.

Harrow turned to face the intruder. “You must be the Mercenary who stole the Scarab.” He deduced.

“Oh, ah, geez where are my manners heh, uhhh,” Steven put his one hand up and half waved to the crowd. “I’m Steven, Steven Grant. I work at a gift shop, and I heard about your little, uh, cult meeting here, and I decided I wanted to see it for myself, and I actually found this cool little beetle thing and thought I should probably return it to you, or whoever owns it.”

“What is he doing?! You will give him NOTHING!” Khonshu ordered, but Steven ignored him. Khonshu in the future hated Steven because he was the one alter he had no control over, no power over. Marc had the fear of Layla becoming his next avatar, and Jake was so fucked that he didn’t care about doing anything other than what Khonshu told him to do.

But Steven? Steven was a free spirit. Khonshu had nothing to hold over him, as he didn’t really have anything, giving him naturally greater resistance to Khonshu’s manipulations. Khonshu’s attempts to push Marc through failed miserably.

“Ah, I see.” Harrow approached Steven slowly, analyzing everything about him. Even now that hawk like gaze made him squirm a little. “Well then, if you would please return the Scarab to me, Steven Grant.” Harrow ordered, his open hand reaching out.

“Ahhh… well you see upon closer inspection I’ve realized that it’s a very pretty little beetle, and I’m gonna keep it for myself, so yeah I mean it is a nice little thing and I know you need it to like, resurrect Ammit, but I don’t think that’s like a very good idea, so no, I’m not gonna return it, I think.”

Harrow leveled him with a glare. “I would strongly advise you…” His cane glowed with the same bright purple it glowed with the first time. The crowd began to slowly back away, and the guards raised their weapons. “…To reconsider.”

“Hmm…. Yeah, uhm, that’s still gonna be a no-“

Harrows cane struck the ground, which erupted in a bright purple, sending Steven flying into a shopfront window. The crowd had dispersed.

“Steven, you can’t handle this! Give me the body, I can save us!” Marc’s reflection in one of the broken glass shards pleaded with him.

Steven didn’t even meet Marc’s gaze, simply said, “Nah, I think I got this this time around.” Steven, against Marc’s wishes, stood up and faced the cult leader and his goons.

“Steven Grant of the gift shop, return the Scarab, and I will let you live. This is your last chance, make your decision a wise one.”

Steven then gave Harrow the smuggest, shittiest little grin he’d ever given anyone, ever.

“Oh, it’ll be a wise one alright, mate.”

Steven summoned the suit for the first time since waking up seemingly in the past. And boy, did it feel good to have this much power flowing through him again.

Khonshu let out a quiet yet audible squeak, or would it be a squawk, because he’s, like, a bird or whatever?

The goons open fired on the now white-clad Steven, who was very quickly riddled with bullet holes. He fell to the ground as the healing factor kicked in full force. He waited for the guards to have to reload, and then he struck.

His two trusty Knightsticks, as he took to calling them, appeared in his hands, and he rushed the guard nearest to him, who was given no time to react before a solid white stick crashed into his face, breaking his nose, and sending him crashing to the floor, knocked out. The guy next to him met a similar fate, struck twice in the stomach and throat, then smashing his head into a nearby motorbike.

As Harrow made to escape, the rest of his goons had either reloaded or switched to a melee weapon. Steven assessed their arsenal.

“Three with Maadi rifles, one with a cheap revolver, three with knives, and one with a sword. Should be a quickie then.”

Steven rushed the revolver guy first. He got two shots off, one hitting Steven in the bicep and the other a miss. He closed the gap, gripping his shooting arm and twisted it, then sent a kick to his chest, which in turn sent him flying and allowing him access to the man’s gun.

He fired two shots at the riflemen, striking one in the leg and striking the magazine of another’s weapon, causing the ammunition inside to detonate, rendering the weapon useless and injuring the users hands, taking him out of the fight.

Steven ditched the very poorly made pistol and turned his attention towards the sword guy, who lunged at him. The sword-barer had some idea of what he was doing, but his swings were sloppy and his foot placement needed some work.

Steven parried the next attack mid-swing, then smacked the bottom of the man’s forearm with his Knightstick, before jabbing it into his sternum and smashing him across the head with the other.

The third rifleman began firing at Steven, striking him twice in the back. The three knife men had now reached him, and he made use of them as human shields. The rifleman, not wanting to hit any of his fellow goons, ceased firing.

Steven took several stabs and slashes during his clash with the three stooges, but ultimately came out on top. He could tell that they obviously had no idea what they were doing with a knife. Sloppy movements, telegraphed slashes and stabs, battle cries, the whole nine yards. It was a pretty sad display really. Hell, Pointing out stuff like that was usually Jake’s thing, not his.

Steven took a few more bullets for his lack of concentration. The third rifleman had unloaded an entire magazine into Steven, who barely flinched. Steven simply launched his Knightstick at the man’s head at full speed like one would a javelin, which made an audible clunk sound as the it struck his noggin. He summoned the stick back to him, and sheathed it behind his back.

The goon with the bullet in his leg attempted to shoot Steven again, but couldn’t properly shoulder the rifle causing him to miss every shot as Steven slowly got closer and closer. He kicked the gun from the man’s hand, then delivered a second kick to his face, finishing him off.

“Welp, that’s all of that then. Now to get Harrow.” Steven made a bee-line in the direction Harrow had fled, but after a few more minutes of sprinting across rooftops and scanning the streets below, realized that Harrow was probably long gone by now.

The sun was beginning to set, and the Moon’s glow began to light the world. Steven sat on top of the clock tower in the center of the village once more, taking in the night sky’s beauty.

The stars were never visible in London, light pollution and all that, so it was a rare sight for him. Even after initially defeating Harrow and finally having a little peace, Steven rarely saw the night sky in all its glory. Memories of shifting the stars with Khonshu popped in his head, and it was then that Marc decided to make himself known in the faint reflection of the brass bell.

“Steven, what the hell was that?!”

“Oh! There you are, was beginning to wonder if you’d show up and explain why the hell we’re, what, back in the past again?”

“What do you mean back in the past, how do you… just… explain, Steven, explain to me what the hell is going on here and what- what the hell are you wearing?”

“Well, first of all, what I’m wearing is called style, you should give it a try sometime. Second, I know about Harrow because I’m from the future, apparently.”

“Okay, yeah, sure time travel. Okay. If you’re supposedly from the future, why don’t I remember anything from then, Hmm?”

“Oh god, you really were insufferable around this time weren’t you? I’d rather talk to Jake than talk to you, because at least Jake could tell me a joke or two.”

“Who the hell is Jake? Never mind, why don’t you prove it. If you’re from the future and supposedly know everything about me, what’s my favorite food then, or tell me something on someone from the future would know.”

Steven sighed, “ he’s really gonna make me do this, isn’t he?”

“You were kicked out the army after you went awol in a fugue state. You went work for hire for your old army boss, raided a dig site in Egypt, got shot when you tried to save the hostages, then made a deal with Khonshu and became Moon Knight.”

“That doesn’t prove anything other than that you know a lot more than you let on.”

“One of the hostages was Dr. El-Faouly, the father of your soon-to-be ex wife, Layla El-Faouly, which, by the way, I am not going to let you push her away again and we are not divorcing her either.”

“Ok, you could’ve fronted when I was with her once, that doesn’t prove anything, and that is not your decision to make!”

“Marc… stop making this difficult, and just listen to me, please.”

“Nope, I don’t believe you, you’re full of shit, give me the body back.”

“I guess I have no other options then.”

“It wasn’t your fault Marc.”

“What… what are you talking about.”

“Randall. Your mum was wrong, Marc. It wasn’t your fault. You were only a child, you couldn’t have known-“

“Stop, okay, stop talking Steven- just stop!”

“So you believe me now, or are we gonna have to go back through your memories in the Duat again?” Marc was decidedly silent, then spoke again in disbelief.

“…Time travel? Duat? What the fuck.”

“It is not impossible.” Khonshu interrupted them.

“Oh great birdies back.”

The Moon God huffed. “Show some respect, Grant.”

“What do you know about time travel?” Marc questioned the ancient being.

“Not much, only that it is no longer possible, as only Anubis could allow passage between time and space.”

“Anubis? Oh great, so you think he sent me back in time?”

“I do not think so. It has been many eons since Anubis has been to this realm. I cannot see why he would have any reason to return. We can dwell on… this whole situation after we stop Harrow. Do you still have the Scarab, Steven Grant?”

Steven reached into his pant pocket, pulling out the scarab.

“Yep, right here mate. Then again, we don’t really need it, do we? I mean, I know where Alexander The Great’s tomb is, and that’s where Ammit’s ushabti is. It’s in his throat, actually, but yeah, I can take us there.”

“Alright, great, let’s go get this over with.” Marc interrupted.

“Ah, wait just one second. We can’t do this just the two of us and Khonshu. We’re gonna need Layla’s help.”

“Nope, uh-uh, I refuse to put her in danger. Steven, just give me the body back and let me sort all this Harrow stuff out, then we can-“

“Nope, we are going back to my flat, and we are calling Layla, and you’re going to explain everything, and then you’re going to apologize for divorcing her, got it? Wonderful, now let’s get out of here.” Landing on a rooftop, he summoned Marc’s cape, and launched himself back home, ignoring Marc’s complaints the whole way back.

Chapter Text

Steven burst into his flat and made straight for the table, clearing it off and pushing it towards the wall where he knew Marc’s stash was.

“Steven! Stop, right now, goddamnit, I swear to god, you’re gonna get her killed!”

“Hah, nah, don’t think so mate. Hell the way I remember it, it was you that got us killed, now wasn’t it? So bug off, I’ve got a phone call to make.”

“Don’t you dare call her, please, don’t call her Steven.” Marc pleaded with Steven. “I can’t let her be put into danger because of my mistake again.” Steven promptly ignored his pleas. The cell phone rang.

“You’re alive!” Layla’s beautiful voice rang through the speaker, like music to his ears. “I’ve been trying to call you for months! Where have you been?! You couldn’t have at least given me some indication that you were alive?!” She sounded right pissed.

“Well, hold on, Layla, I’m not Marc Spector, I’m Steven Grant.”

“How did you get this phone? Where the hell is Marc?!”

“Alright, this is gonna sound right crazy, but uh… I am Marc Spector, AND I’m Steven Grant. We’re… the same body, but like, a different mind, or whatever.”

“Wh- what are you talking about? You think this is some kind of fucking joke, Hmm? Where the hell is Marc Spector.”

“Layla, I’m sorry, but you can’t talk to him now, because if I let him have the body, he’s gonna try and go on a suicide mission to kill Harrow, so listen, right? I need you to trace this call and make your way here. It might take you a day or two, but just get here, and quickly. I have the Scarab, and I know where Ammit’s tomb is.” He paused for a second to collect himself. “But I, we, need your help, to stop him.”

Layla was silent for a long moment, before the call ended, with no reply. Great. Just bloody great.

“Steven.” Marc called out to him calmly through Gus’s tank- wait, Gus! Gus is alive- wait, Marc was saying something, wasn’t he?

“Now, hold on, run that back for me yeah? I wasn’t paying attention.” GUS WAS ALIVE! He sprinkled some food for his one-fin wonder.

Marc let out a groan of frustration. “Alright, we’re back here now, there’s no danger, tell me what in the hell is going on here, the full story. Everything.”

“Oh boy, this is gonna be long one, mate.” It was indeed a long one. He told Marc about his apparent reappearance in the past, what had happened the first time around, getting to Ammit’s tomb, getting killed by Harrow and the afterlife, leaving out the part where he- where he- y’know.

He told Marc about how they came back and stopped Ammit, about Layla becoming Taweret’s avatar, and what they did afterwards, re-marrying Layla and living together in their flat. Meeting Jake Lockely, and finding out about Khonshu’s betrayal, which Marc seemed unsurprised by.

“Wait, hold on, you mean there’s another alter other than you in here somewhere?”

“Yep, old Jakey’s a right nutcase. Kills people in his little limo and drives off with the bodies, dumps ‘em somewhere and drives off.”

“Is he… is he here? Right now?”

“He’s probably listening to us right now, but around this time he couldn’t come through because of the wall. He was the one who defeated Harrow the first time around, too. Made a right mess of him, and the whole little area, too. He gets stronger the fuller the moon is, so during a full moon we pretty much got no choice but to let him out. Otherwise he just screams and nags in Spanish all day.”

Steven continued with his recounting of the past- future- whatever, and answering any questions Marc had. He took a glance at the time, and saw that it was almost 2 in the morning. If he wanted another shot at Harrow, then the museum was his best shot, he reckoned.

“Alright, that’s enough questions for now, I need to get some sleep if I’m gonna catch Harrow tomorrow.”

“Wait, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I told him I worked at the museum gift shop, so he should show up to intimidate me and whatnot. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan Marc. You can trust me on that one.”

“…Alright. What’s the plan, Steven?”

Chapter Text

Morning came quicker than Marc thought it would, and that meant that Layla would most likely be here soon. He was not looking forward to this. Steven seemed in high spirits, as usual.

Marc still couldn’t wrap his head around the time travel stuff. Sure, the Avengers time travelled to reverse the blip, but Moon Knight wasn’t an Avenger, and Steven, while smart, was no Tony Stark.

“Right, she’s bound to be ‘ere any minute now. Khonshu, let me know when she gets here, alright?” They had woken up at four in the morning, the body having gotten only two hours of sleep, and it showed. Marc wasn’t even fronting and he felt exhausted.

“I am not your secretary, Grant!” The old bird huffed, insulted.

“Cheers mate.” Marc couldn’t tell if he liked the new, cheeky Steven over the old Steven, but seeing him shut Khonshu up?

Maybe new Steven wasn’t so bad. Marc appeared in Gus’s tank, armed with another question for his mysterious time traveling alter ego.

“So, when Layla gets here, we go to the museum, then we wait for Harrow to show up and then we take him out, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Should be easy, wouldn’t be surprised if it goes exactly like last time.”

“What happened last time?”

“Well for one, I didn’t beat up all his goons in the Alps, Jake fronted and killed them all. I was never supposed to front during that mission, but I did, and you couldn’t take back control until a little while later.”

“Oh, wonderful. This Jake seems like a real lovely guy.”

A third voice growled out in response.

“Cuida tu lengua americana, antes de que te la corte!”

Steven turned to face the bathroom and saw none other than Jake Lockely in its mirror, looking as constipated as ever.

“Wanna try that in English, mate? I don’t really speak any Spanish.” The reflection sneered at him. Steven simply grinned in response. Marc looked on in surprise. It dawned on Steven that this was their first meeting.

“Well, it certainly went better than last time.”

“Enough arguing, Marc’s betrothed is approaching shortly.” Khonshu the hall monitor informed them.

“Are you gonna tell her about the time travel stuff?”

“Yeah, but not right now. Hell just learning about me was enough to make her shut down last time, don’t wanna overwhelm her or anything like that.”

A few seconds later, there were three soft knocks on the door of the flat. Steven unlocked the door, only to have it fly open and smack him in the face. Layla collided into him, pinning him to the floor and pressing the barrel of her pistol to his head.

“Ah, quite the bloody entrance- ah,” Recognition flashed in Layla’s eyes. She holstered her gun and leaned down to kiss Steven, then abruptly slapped him across the face, all while still on top of him.

“You idiot! Why the- what even- what the hell is going on, Marc?! I swear to god if you don’t tell me the truth..!” The threat went unspoken, but Steven knew she was serious.

“Well, Layla, as much as I enjoy you being on top of me, these floors are quite uncomfortable.” Layla went red in the face, then quickly got off of him.

“What. Is going on.” She demanded.

“Ah, well, you’re gonna wanna sit down, because it’s quite the story.” Steven stood up, dusted off his jeans, then sat down in his chair.

Layla scoffed. “What’s with the stupid accent?”

“Well, first of all, rude, and second, I am not Marc Spector. My name is Steven Grant, and we, me and Marc, have dissociative identity disorder. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically a defense mechanism against trauma where the brain creates different personalities as a method of coping.”

“What, what the hell are you talking about? Wh- why? I-I don’t… why wouldn’t y- why wouldn’t Marc tell me?”

“Well, same reason he wanted a divorce, I guess. He didn’t wanna put you in any danger, and well, he was scared that you, like, would be creeped out by it or something. I was basically made to be a stress ball, so it makes sense that I never met you before.”

Layla was stunned. She turned around and closed the front door, then sat down across from Steven. “Can… can I talk to Marc, Steven?”

“I’ll see if he’s up for it.”

Steven stood up and walked over to Gus’s tank, and began talking to it. Layla was half convinced that this wasn’t real, that it was some weird fever dream. But then, he turned back and faced her, and she could tell just by looking that it was Marc.

“Layla I-“ He didn’t even get a chance to speak.

“You fucking asshole! You- you fucking took the scarab, and- and for what? So you could have it all to yourself?! The thing we’ve fought our whole lives for?!” She was crying. Steven watched from the fish tank. He saw Jake in the bathroom mirror, and the two made eye contact. Jake said nothing, and after a few seconds, shook his head and disappeared. Layla was still going in on Marc.

“Better to let ‘em sort it out now, rather than later.” He sat and watched as they bickered back and forth, Layla demanding answers and Marc apologizing. Then the topic of the divorce papers came up.

“So, are you gonna sign these papers or what?”

Marc was about to start, but Steven then chose to intervene.

“Marc, don’t sign those papers.” Steven warned him. “You’re not protecting her from danger, you’re pushing her away.”

Marc leveled his gaze with Steven. “That’s not your decision to make.”

“What?”

“I’m talking to Steven honey.” He clarified, “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Steven. It’s for the best that she doesn’t-“

“Doesn’t what? Get involved? Who are you to make that decision for her? If she wants to get involved, she will get involved. You know you can’t stop her Marc.”

Marc was silent as he stared at the floor, thinking over what Steven had said. He was right, in that he was being a hypocrite.

“Alright. Fine. But I don’t like it.”

“Well you will here pretty soon. Now, we still have time. Give me the body so I can explain the plan to Layla.”

Marc nodded, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Steven popped out.

“Steven?” Layla questioned. “It’s Steven, right?”

“Yep.” He said, popping the ‘p’. “Now, in about an hour…”

Chapter Text

“Stevie! You’re late again!”

“Yeah, real sorry about that Donna.”

“This is the fourth time this week you’ve shuffled in ‘ere all late and looking like shit.” She shoved the box of cheap Anubis figurines into his arms. “So guess what? You’re on inventory again tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll get it done.” He shuffled past her without another word, scanning the area for Harrow and his followers. He spotted a few, like the security guard and the shorter woman, pointing them out to Marc and Layla. Jake, meanwhile, was surveying the area, not that they asked him to, he just did, moving from reflection to reflection.

“Alright, Harrow could be anywhere,” He placed the box behind his counter, and got back into his ‘customer service’ routine. Layla pretended to browse the nearby exhibits. He was fidgeting with a stress ball- ironic, I know,- when a familiar voice approached his counter.

“Hey, just checking in to make sure we’re still on for dinner tonight?” Dylan, the tour guide, who he’d completely forgotten about. Thankfully, Jake swooped in and saved him the embarrassment.

“Ah, so sorry espléndida, I’ve had some, ahem, other commitments come up.” The suave driver filled in.

Dylan was understanding, and simply left him to his devices. Jake faded back into the reflections and pushed Steven through to the front.

Then Donna appeared again. “Wow Stevie, can’t believe you’d turn down a gal like her. Real catch you must be.” She wandered off to who knows where, leaving Steven to his devices.

“Cheers, Lockely. Think that’s the first time you’ve ever been not a prick.” He taunted the chauffeur, who did not respond to his ribbing.

Layla then approached the counter. “He’s here. Over by the pillars.” She informed him as she pretended to be interested in a packet of sand.

“Right lads, you heard her. Let’s go plant this old bastard.” Steven stood up and made his way towards where Layla had said Harrow would be, approaching the pillar depicting Ammit and trying to look like he was going somewhere. Espionage wasn’t his thing, but he’s trying his best.

And right on cue…

“So you really do work here.” Harrow appeared from behind another pillar, and Steven turned to face him. “I had assumed that Steven Grant was an alias.”

“Honesty is the best policy, innit?” He tried to make himself sound more scared than he really was. “I-I don’t have your beetle thingy, I swear.” God, he was really playing it up.

“Oh, you can drop the act, Steven. I saw you summon the suit. Very stylish, I might add.”

“Heh, at least someone appreciates it. Old bird bones hates it.”

“Oh, I imagine he does. Y’know, I was his avatar once. ‘The Fist of Vengeance!’,” Harrow let out a chuckle at the title.

“Yeah, ‘tis a bit goofy, I agree. It was always more Marc’s thing than mine.”

Harrow stepped closer, which was pretty stupid, honestly. “It must be maddening, the voice inside your head.”

Steven cocked his eyebrow at him.

“Which one?”

Harrow took a step back, and gave him a small smile. “Heh, typical Khonshu. Taking advantage of and manipulating poor broken souls like you. Tell me, Steven Grant, how many voices do you hear inside that head of yours?”

“Well, I’d love to introduce you, but I don’t think you’re gonna live long enough to meet ‘em.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Steven squared his shoulders, ready to draw the suit at a moments notice, like one of those old western movies, except instead of a desert or a town, they were in a museum.

The goons that Layla and Jake had spotted had begun to form around. They weren’t as well armed as before, but there were definitely more.

“I count thirteen, plus Harrow. Watch out for Jackals.” Marc informed him.

“Now, it’s showti-“

“Stevie! I thought I told you to stop tryin to be a tour guide!” Donna’s reprimanding of him was a blessing in disguise, as Harrow turned away from him.

“You doughnut.”

The Suit materialized, covering him in the finest Egyptian silk and fabrics. He threw a sucker punch at the distracted Harrow, which sent him flying down on his back. He drew his Knightsticks and went after him, but his goons closed the gap, surrounding him, drawing knives and guns.

“Arsenal check; out of thirteen, only three have handguns. Six had knives, and the rest were unarmed.”

The first shots started flying, and the civilians started running. Steven dodged as many bullets as he could, but still got hit a few times. Two guys with knives came at him from the front, and one unarmed from the left side. He drew one Knightstick from behind, and went to work.

He changed direction and went for the guy to his left, who through a haymaker, which was easily dodged. Steven twisted his arm out of the socket, and kicked him in the shin, sending him on one knee, then smashing his face in with his Knightstick. The two knifers had reached him, who he traded blows with. One was a one-hitter quitter who crumpled after a mean headbutt, and the other got a couple whacks to the face before he too was knocked out.

He then turned his attention towards the gunmen. “Take out the ranged units first, then deal with the infantry.” He strategized.

He disarmed the first shooter and sent an elbow into his nose, then a knee to his crotch, sending him crumpling to the floor. He shot both the men non-fatally, taking them out of commission, but not before they could get a few shots in themselves, hitting him in the chest and left arm. He brushed his suit jacket, and readjusted it before returning to the fight.

The rest of the goons all charged him at once. He pistol whipped the first one, but got grappled by the second. He sent a few elbows into his back, but the bulky man didn’t budge as Steven got pinned against the pillar depicting Taweret. He felt himself get stabbed several times, definitely by several different people. He was right cornered, and some help would really be nice!

It was then that Layla made her presence known by open firing on several of the goons crowding Steven, taking out three of them. Steven judo flipped the big fella, then stomped his face in. He drew out his second Knightstick, then dodged two coordinated knife attacks, and smacked the shit out of both with his Knightsticks.

Layla got into a scuffle of her own when the gunman who got nut-shot earlier got up and rushed her. She swept his leg out from under him, then slammed him head on an adjacent pillar.

It was no wonder Marc fell in love with her.

Meanwhile, Steven was making short work of the remaining goons, taking out the last one standing with an uppercut to the jaw, then a swift one-two combo, followed by a body slam and another few strikes to the face.

Steven looked to where Harrow last was to see his cane fully purple. Steven rushed him while Layla made for one of the other guns. Before Steven could reach him, he was blasted back by purple energy when Harrow slammed him cane to the ground. The floor began to open up, and from it, three Jackals emerged.

“You fight well, Steven Grant. As expected of the Moon Knight-“

“Uh, actually, I go by Mr. Knight, not Moon Knight. Marc is Moon Knight. I’m just, uh, just me. Psycho Colonel Sanders, heh.”

“-But how well will you fare against Ammit’s Jackals?” The three mangy cunts charged him, and he did what anyone would do in this situation.

He ran away, and jumped through a massive window and onto a busy street, luring the Jackals away from the museum full of people.

Layla fired several shots at Harrow, but missed. It was then that Police swarmed the building, and Layla had no choice but to leave as well. She ran through the employee only areas, and exited through a back door, where her motorbike was waiting for her. She began the drive to the meet up spot, hoping that Steven would be okay.

Meanwhile, Steven was not doing okay. He was getting tossed around like a boiled egg on Easter Sunday by three smelly demon dogs. His train of thought was interrupted when he was thrown from the roof that he was fighting the beasts on, and landed in an alleyway.

“Ahhh… that, really hurts- ah, Christ!”

“You did really good back there Steven, but you look pretty winded. Wanna tap me in?” Marc’s reflection in a nearby trash can lid offered.

“Uh… yeah, I think I’m all done for today.”

The suit shifted from Steven’s dapper dress to the Ceremonial Armor. Marc was back in control, and god he felt good. He gripped two Moon Daggers in his hands, and looked up to see the Jackals making their descent into the alleyway. Marc took of in the opposite direction, hoping to find a more open, uncrowded area. Khonshu, for once, decided to be helpful.

“There is an empty parking lot the next block over. You can take them out there.” The pigeon informed him.

“Got it.” Marc reached the alley a few minutes later, and went to work, doing what he does best.

The first Jackal launched itself at him. Marc dodged out of the way, but came around and stabbed the beast through the spine with one Dagger, and brought it down to the ground, where he stabbed the second through its brain.

The other two circled Marc, wary of him. Both charged at the same time. He threw a Moon Dagger at both, killing the one in his left instantly, and injuring the one on the right. The surviving Jackal attempted to flee, but was dragged by Marc back into the center of the plaza, where he beat the monster to death with his bare hands.

“Just another day in the office.” He joked.

“Wow, very original one-liner, Americano.” Jake laughed at Marc’s expense.

“I didn’t know you spoke English, compadre.” Marc bit back.

Steven, sensing and argument coming, broke the two up, reminding them to focus on the plan.

“Alright, focus boys, we need to meet up with Layla and go from there. Marc, where’s the scarab?”

Marc reached down to feel his very empty pocket. “Oh, shit.”

“What? What’s- no.” Steven was in disbelief. How could Marc lose the Scarab TWICE?!

“Oh, BLOODY FUCKING HELL!”

Chapter Text

Layla had reached their meetup spot and sat in wait for Marc- Steven- whoever. The funny part about it all, is that things like Egyptian deities and crazy cult leaders that can summon beasts from the underworld didn’t seem to faze her.

But Marc- Steven- whoever he was- were? Was two, maybe even more, different people. She had heard about DID before, but never once suspected that Marc could have it.

Well, looking back now, there were a few times after he was discharged where he wasn’t… quite right. He would often stare off into space, or start talking to himself. Sometimes he even spoke in a strange accent. At the time she had attributed it to his recent experience of becoming the avatar of the Egyptian moon god.

Now she knew the truth- that he was talking to a little British man in his head. Layla didn’t know how she felt about Steven. He was nice enough, but he still… unnerved her. Like he’s lost, or he’s not supposed to be here.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Marc showed up, still wearing the suit. He walked over to her and let the mask and cowl covering his face dematerialize.

He did not look happy.

“What happened?”

“We- I, lost the Scarab.”

“Wh- what do you mean you lost it? How did you lose it?”

“It must’ve slipped out when Steven and I switched. His suit has pockets, mine doesn’t.”

“Well, where were you when you switched? Maybe it’s still there!” She sounded desperate.

“I searched that alleyway for thirty minutes, Layla. It’s gone.”

Layla was silent, then turned and began walking towards her motorbike, before abruptly lashing out, kicking its tire.

“Fuck!” She cried out. “This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. We can’t lose. We can’t-“ Her thought process we interrupted by a very-British accent. She turned to see the Ceremonial Armor replaced by Steven’s Mr. Knight suit.

“Well, now that I think about it, we don’t really need the scarab, because, well, I know where Ammit’s tomb is, heh.”

Layla stared at the white clad man, “You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, led off with that?!”

“Yeah, that’s my fault, didn’t think of that, but, crisis’ adverted!… kinda. If Harrow has the scarab, then he and his group are on their way to Egypt right now. However, we have speed on our side, plus Harrow doesn’t actually know where the tomb is, how to navigate it, or where Ammit’s ushabti even is!” Steven stopped to breathe, “But guess what? I know all of those things!” He said with a proud smile.

Layla wrapped her arms around him and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug. After a few more seconds of hugging- and Steven informing her of his inability to breathe, she finally let go. Then a thought came to her.

“Wait- how do you know… all of that?” Her suspicions from earlier coming back in full force. He seemed to freeze at that.

“U-uhm… uhhh.” He stammered out a response. “Well, I guess you could say I’ve uh… been there? Before? Kind of?”

His response did nothing to ease her suspicions about him. Just who- or what, was Steven Grant? What were his true intentions?

Layla would find out, one way or another.