Chapter Text
Marc stirred from his slumber, the sunlight streaming into his room, his eyes fluttering open. The realisation was sudden, jolting him awake, sobering him.
There was a vast emptiness that consumed, smothered and Marc suddenly found he wasn’t able to breathe through the thick fog that seemed to hang in the air.
The mercenary was alone and he didn’t even know how that was possible, but he was alone.
Jake and Steven were nowhere in the mindscape, the carefully crafted home felt so wrong, so unlike the warm comforting abode he remembered.
It was so empty without them.
He hated it.
He despised it.
He was isolated, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a child. No comforting presences, no teasing or laughter coursing through the mindscape, just a silence that haunted his very soul, a silence that left him reeling.
Marc finally found the motivation to rise from the bed, his body quivering as he got ready, trying to focus his mind on the meaningless tasks and not on the sea of loneliness that threatened to drown him.
“Khonshu.” Marc called softly, his voice echoing through the unfamiliar home. The home seemed so different without his alters, too cold and large.
The moon god materialised suddenly, towering over the human, regarding the American with an obvious irritation for being disrupted.
“Where are they?”
Marc demanded immediately, before Khonshu could even greet his avatar.
The mercenary stood tall, his arms crossed across his chest, eyes narrowed, a simmering fury flickering dangerously within them, at the absence of his brothers. The sight of which even unnerved the god.
“I am not sure what you mean, Marc Spector.” His raspy voice aggravated the mercenary, whose patience was steadily declining.
“Jake and Steven.” The American said, his voice deathly flat as an overwhelming urge seized him to destroy something, anything, everything.
Marc was nobody without them.
“I do not know.”
“You don’t know?” Marc scoffed, taking a menacing step forwards. “That’s bullshit, you can’t sense them?”
“I cannot.” The god shook his head, remaining calm despite the obvious chaos raging through the American.
Marc himself was scary, Marc when his family was in danger was downright terrifying and at those times Khonshu did his best not to be caught in the crossfire.
“Well you’re going to help me find them.”
“This is not my fight.” Khonshu regretted the words as soon as they were said, the dark snarl chilling his core.
“You listen to me, I will destroy this agreement and find a way to destroy you permanently if you do not help me.”
Khonshu nodded, the threat was very real and he could not risk it, Marc would do it, he wasn’t one for empty threats and by the sheer anger blazing through him, it would not take much for him to snap.
“I will help you.”
“I’ll get you two back.
Marc murmured softly in a rehearsed habit, more than anything, unable to quell the anxious twisting in his stomach.
“I’ll get you both back and if I have to destroy the world before I do, then so be it.”
He would find them and get his family back.
.
.
.
Jake couldn’t help but let out a groan of pain as he awoke from his drug induced slumber, the agony thrumming through his body disorientating him.
The reality of what was occurring hit him, he was not in control of the body but his own.
How the fuck was that even possible?
After all, he obviously was not in the mindscape.
The duct tape irritated his wrists, scarlet lines were the result of his struggles to escape the binds. A muffled yell of pain was unable to be swallowed as the drug coursing throughout his body resulted in a fiery eruption of pain with every movement.
His mind floated back to the last thing he remembered…
The New Yorker was relaxing in the mindscape, unable to sleep, so instead he lay on the couch, Steven’s thick Egyptian textbook cradled within his arms as he wondered what was so interesting about strange words he didn’t understand and drawings seeming made by children.
Steven was sound asleep, whilst Marc had control of the body.
The TV was blasted on, the muffling of an action movie streaming through the quiet place they had carefully created.
It was unexpected, but the sensation rushed through him.
A frigid feeling overcame the protector, to which he immediately recognised.
Jake’s protective instincts erupted as he shot from his lazy position upwards, with all the intention of racing to the front to protect the body from whatever.
Instead, a pinprick pierced his neck and as the liquid flowed through him, he turned punching the man, the grunt of pain satisfied the protector.
But the world spun around him and he fell, with a thud. His teeth gritted as the need for sleep tempted him.
He had to warn them, had to protect them…
Jake’s vision blurred, snippets of the intruder's conversation floated to him and there was nothing.
The New Yorker inhaled sharply, his head seemingly under water as he desperately shoved the blossoming pain aside, unable to properly focus as he pondered on what happened.
How it happened.
It shouldn’t have even been possible.
A muted whimper arose from somewhere near him and Jake could feel his heart skip a beat, hoping, praying.
Please don’t be…
The looming concrete walls provided no comfort as he cursed his bad luck, unable to see who was in the cell next to him, despite knowing deep down who it was.
“Kid?” His voice was hoarse and brittle as he tried to keep his call a soft murmur, in the hopes that they wouldn’t hear him.
“Jake?” Steven’s voice was slurred, thick with sleep and confusion as he regarded his current surroundings.
Jake could feel the intense fury tumbling through him, the rage radiating off of him in waves.
Take him alone, sure whatever.
But take his family?
Mess with Steven and Marc?
You’re promised a one way trip to the Duat and you’ll leave the world begging to die, an agony that most people were unable to comprehend.
“Kid, you alright?”
The silence enveloped the two and the protector was dreading the answer, his every instinct screeching at him to protect the kid.
“Jake, are we dead?” The Brit managed to say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as it hit him that the New Yorker was talking to him.
“No kid. We’re not.”
“Then, how is this possible?” He asked groggily, puzzled at how they got here, the last thing he remembered was falling asleep within the mindscape.
“Kid, I need you to focus. You alright? You hurt anywhere?” The cab driver queried, the concern and need to protect, throttling him and the overload of emotions forced a wince out of him as the severity of his headache intensified.
“Yeah, ‘m alright.”
Jake let out a sigh of relief, thankful that they didn’t drug, or hurt the kid.
“Ok, try to stay quiet. I’m gonna come to you.”
“Where’s Marc?” The Brit asked, an edge of panic as he realised that the American wasn’t with them.
Jake gritted his teeth, shaking his head to attempt to clear the hanging fog over his mind; which only resulted in a shooting of pain, his vision blackened entirely for a brief minute.
“I’ll get us out of here and we’ll go find him.” His thoughts were akin to lead and it was a miracle he managed to think a coherent thought, let alone form a sentence aloud.
He failed to mention to Steven the snippets of the conversations he heard when he was first drugged, before he was forced into unconsciousness.
The reason why was simple, he didn’t need to freak the kid out. At the moment, Steven needed to be as calm as possible and telling him that they were bait for Marc, who was walking into a trap would send the Brit into a spiraling panic.
And he sure as hell not going to mention the plan he overheard from the fuckers, because he was never ever going to let that plan succeed.
No fucking way was that ever going to happen, not on Jake Lockley’s life.
He wasn’t going to let them destroy his family.
The pounding in his head intensified and Jake shoved the agonising pain down, instead creating a simple plan so that he could focus properly.
Step one: Get out of this shithole.
Step two: Get Steven free.
Step three: Kill these fuckers.
Step four: Find Marc.
Jake clenched his eyes shut, yearning for the suit to come to him, a beat passed and nothing happened. The attempt was futile and he cursed under his breath, guess he was on his own with no help from Khonshu.
The tape held secure despite him tugging strongly on it, once again. An agony hurtled through his arms and the cab driver consciously had to stop himself from yelling aloud from the pain flowing through him.
Breaths heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead, his hair covering his face as he struggled to fight off his agony that threatened to submerge him.
The only stroke of luck he had, was that since he was in control of his body, he had his pocket knife.
It was almost a novice move and if the situation was lighter, he would have laughed at their carelessness.
Jake grinned, manoeuvring himself so that he grabbed at his belt and wrenched it free, to which the hidden knife clattered behind him.
The next part would send him into a world of hurt, so he braced himself. Tipping forwards and backward on the chair, the wood protested, groaning as he shoved his whole weight backwards and toppled onto the floor, the noise echoing through the air.
The New Yorker swallowed the scream, and gradually fumbled for the knife, hands groping widely, his gaze trained on the barred entrance.
Jake didn’t have long until they would come and the choruses of startled yells and footsteps thudding down the hall were his only warning as he continued, faster.
Finally, grasping the knife, the protector sawed through the bounds with ease, ripping the excess tape as he dismissed the escalating anguish aside.
The pain was so different from what he had ever experienced, sure he had been hurt before, had almost died which had hurt like a bitch.
But this?
The pain was inside him, the drug thrumming through his veins, every movement sending him into a trembling agony. The New Yorker couldn’t brace himself from the pain because it was non existent, it was everywhere, crushing him.
The men rushed, squawking in surprise at the sight of Jake standing, hand clenched on the knife, a dark gleam in his eyes and a sadistic grin morphing as he regarded his opponents.
The door unlocked and he scoffed as they circled him, as if they were in control, as if they had the power.
5 to 1
Easy.
He lunged swiftly, before they could react, his knife implanted in the first man’s hand, blood spurting out as he swiftly yanked it out.
The man’s screech of agony didn’t faze the protector, instead he chuckled, enjoying the fear reflected in his eyes.
A baseball bat was swung at him and Jake easily dodged it, plunging his knife into the man’s neck, who was cradling his hand as if he had lost a child.
One down four to go.
Jake ducked as the machete missed him by an inch, while his attention was focused on the merciless machete, he missed the baseball bat as it hit his side and he had to do everything in his power not to collapse onto the ground as he hunched over, trying to stifle his agony, trying to breathe through his broken ribs.
No.
Marc and Steven needed him at the moment.
He dived just in time, as the knife came down once again every muscle in his body protesting, his ribs screaming as they shifted slightly.
Bouncing up, he growled animalistically as he brought his knife down into another man’s back again and again and again. The begs and pleads for help fell on death ears and the man’s bat clattered to the ground.
The cab driver’s crooked grin was crazed as he shifted his weight and continued his dance.
Two down, three to go.
Bending down, He picked up the discarded bat and with all his strength, the protector hit the man over the head, the blood stained bright on the bat as his eyes rolled up immediately and he slunk to the floor.
Three down, two to go.
The last two were beyond terrified, the machete was clenched in a vice-like grip and held in front of him, as if he was trying to ward Jake off.
The other was trembling, hands fumbling at his holster, trying to get his gun which was seemingly impossible due to his panicked state.
The cab driver flung the knife at the man, it found its mark with ease and before he collapsed Jake ripped the holster off him, the gun casually within his grip.
Four down, one to go.
He had a gun and although this would have been the easiest way to kill the last man, it would have been a cacophony of noise and attracted more people as well as the fact that it was too quick.
Too painless.
He approached the man, gun raised and immediately the fear shone through, as he raised his arms in surrender.
Jake dropped his weapons with carelessness, the thud
reverberating through the confined spaces and his calloused hands squeezed his throat.
The man’s eyes rolled up as he thrashed, kicking desperately as he fought to breathe.
The protector didn’t relent, feeling the man’s life drain away as the strangled sounds of wheezing escaped the man’s throat.
“You don’t mess with my family.” Jake growled, his eyes glinting in a vicious loathing as the surging of rage resulted in the thudding of a body.
Finally, the task was done and only then did Jake stagger, bracing himself against the wall as the twisting pain enwrapped him, every breath becoming a struggle as his ribs protested.
His face twisted in a grimace as coughs racked through his form, his trembling hand covering his mouth, while he forced himself to stay calm.
The stark blood was streaked on his palm.
Shit.
The bat must have done internal damage.
Not now he scolded himself, bending slowly to grab the gun. Later I can collapse when I’m alone. When the kids are safe. But now, I have to keep going.
Tucking the gun under his belt, he forced the knife free from the body and steeling himself, Jake pushed the opened door, turning the corner to meet the wide eyes of the kid.
Steven’s eyes were saucers, the Brit was tied up but mini tremors consumed his body.
Jake swallowed the lump in his throat, hesitant at the kid’s obvious reaction. His heart plummeting at the thought, was the kid scared of him?
Did Steven really think that he was going to hurt him?
Jake ignored the sudden hatred that arose out of him, hated the blood staining his clothes and focused his attention on the lock. The protector jiggled the knife, prying open the lock with a small click.
Forcing himself to move, he manoeuvred around the kid, cutting through the tape, freeing the Brit from the confines of the prison, as Steven rose from the chair, regarding Jake with an expression that the other was unable to place.
“Are you alright?”
Whatever Jake was expecting the kid to say, it wasn’t that and it caught him off guard, his expression morphing into confusion as he fumbled for his words that didn’t come.
Arguing, criticism, judgement and even silence were expected.
But not concern.
Steven was concerned. The kid was concerned about him, despite hearing with clarity what Jake had done.
“What?” It was the only thing that he could manage to say, the rest of his words dying in his mouth.
“You’re limping, you alright?”
Shaking himself out of his thoughts he nodded, brushing off the worry emitting from the Brit.
“I’m fine kid, we gotta get outta here.”
“Here.” Jake handed the knife to Steven, who grasped it awkwardly, glancing at the protector in alarm.
“I know, kid. You don’t need to use it, it's just for in case.”
Steven nodded, heart beating frantically at the thought of escaping, to which Jake embraced him, the kid squeezing him, relaxing into the soothing and familiar hug.
Ensuring that the kid was calmer, they continued. The gun clenched tightly in his hands and making sure that Steven was behind him, they scanned the hallways, creeping forwards.
“Alright kid. I have a plan, but you have to listen to me.” Jake’s expression was serious, turning to the Brit with a hushed whisper.
Steven nodded, glancing expectedly at him to share his plan, to which Jake took a breath, knowing that the kid would protest the plan.
“I’m going to distract them and you escape…”
“F that. Not happening.” Steven interrupted, irritated at the notion that Jake would even consider that plan.
“Kid, you need to listen to me. Marc is walking into a trap, you need to get a hold of him and make sure he is ok.”
The shock and frantic panic was evident on Steven’s face, but he shook his head, his voice wavering.
“We can do that together.”
Jake was growing more and more frustrated and his growing agony was not helping.
“Steven, Marc needs you!”
The silence was uncomfortable as the Brit shook his head firmly.
“I’m not leaving you behind. Marc needs you too.”
Jake sighed, sagging. Bringing his trembling hand to his feverish head, he scrubbed at his face, wearily.
“Kid, I’ll be fine, you know me. Honestly, we don’t have enough time for both of us to escape and Spector is gonna get hurt, you’re the only one that can stop it.”
It was a low blow and they both knew it, but Steven hesitated not wanting to even consider leaving his brother behind.
Obviously Jake could handle himself and he didn’t want Marc to get hurt, but…
His brother was hurt and he didn’t want to leave him alone…
“I’ll meet up with you afterwards.” Jake added, trying to convince the kid, to which Steven sighed, worry shining in his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“Will you be alright?”
“I’ll be fine kid. Promise.”
Steven nodded again, relenting but glancing at his brother with apprehension and doubt.
Jake took it, thankful.
It meant that the fuckers would have to deal with Jake’s wrath, whilst Steven was safe, meaning there was no slither, no chance that their plan would destroy his family.
He gripped the gun as if it was his lifeline, checking the amount of bullets, despite knowing already how many he had.
6 bullets.
He hoped it was enough.
He glanced at the terrified gaze of his brother, Steven’s eyes watering at the helplessness he was overcome by and Jake felt his protective instincts constricting him.
“Steven, I’ll hold them off, but you need to find somewhere public and get a hold of a phone. Whatever happens, Marc cannot come here.”
Steven could only nod, his voice failing him as tears traced down his cheeks, Jake forced himself to concentrate, which was proving to be more and more difficult at the sight of his brother.
The protector squeezed the kid’s shoulder and mentally prepared himself, forcing his coughs down in the hopes not to frighten the kid anymore and taking a deep breath he muttered out a soft warning.
“Stay behind me kid.”
And he immediately raised his gun and shot two guards, point blank. In the momentary confusion, he managed to hit two more and as a result, the guards swarmed closer, guns trained on him.
It was at that time that Jake barked an order for Steven to run, to leave him behind and sprint to safety.
A momentary split second delay was the result, Steven’s face clouded with indecisiveness, unwilling to leave his brother in the swirling chaos of whistling bullets and overpowered men with knives, which all charged at Jake.
“Steven!” Jake barked, barely dodging a bullet flying too close to his ear, heart beating frantically with panic. The call broke the Brit from his thoughts and the guilt swarmed him, a hushed apology, he raced down the hallways.
Unable to see through his blurring tears, he continued, escaping.
The men moved to follow Steven and Jake snarled, low and hateful, springing from his position he tackled the first guy, shoving the gun into his head and pulling the trigger.
“I’m your enemy right now, you fuckers.”
Jake continued, ducking behind any and all structures as he picked off each man, one by one.
Bolting and ducking to avoid the whistles of bullets and the flurry of knives. It was only when the click of the gun answered him, that he cursed to himself. Throwing the bullet less gun down, he barely had enough time to dive away from the shot, his teeth grinding together as the bullet grazed his cheek. The red liquid dripped down his face.
“Where’s your leader?” Jake taunted as he slammed his fist into another guard, rendering him unconscious almost immediately, his eyes rolling up into his head.
A deathly silence descended upon the guards, which immediately set Jake on edge. The guards had straightened up, their guns still trained on the New Yorker, but they no longer continued firing, waiting for extra orders as the man walked towards Jake.
“Well, well. Jake Lockley. I’d say I was surprised to see you escaped, but that’d be lying.” Jake couldn’t recognize the dark haired male, whose eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure.
Realisation dawned upon the protector.
This man was the leader.
“I’m going to fuck you up.” The malice swirled from his tone, hatred and pure venom at what this man had done to his family.
He was going to pay.
A giddy chuckle burst through from the man, the smirk widening.
“Really? And the drug running through your veins is going to let you?”
Jake could feel his vision suddenly lurch, the thumping of the drug sent licks of agony to his veins and he had to do everything in his power as to not double over in pain, instead his face twisted in a deep grimace, staggering as the world spun on its axis.
“You’re too late.” The New Yorker couldn’t comprehend his sentence properly, his brain was clouded.
“Steven’s gone and your plan is destroyed.”
The unknown leader scoffed, shaking his head at the naivety of the cab driver.
“Do you really think we wouldn’t take you into consideration? Take your skills and ease of escape into consideration for our plan?”
Jake’s expression fell, an icy terror froze him in his place at what the man was suggesting.
The man grinned at the panic emitting off the protector, the sheer intoxicating power he held over Marc, over Jake was addicting.
“Jake Lockley, do you really think your pathetic mercenary would knowingly leave you here alone?”
The dread gripped at his heart, the sheer terror rushing through him as he trembled violently, because he knew the answer.
The man walked forwards, kneeling in front of Jake he continued.
“This was all planned.” He whispered, chilling Jake to the bone. “And in the end, your family will crumble to ruins and Moon Knight will no longer be.”
Jake lunged forwards, with all the intentions to hurt the man. But his body protested, ignoring his insistence to kill and despite his yearning to stay awake. Despite the knowledge that their plan was working, as intended.
The protector’s cocoa brown eyes, flooded with pain and terror, slumped shut and he couldn’t fight it off, as the burning pain devoured him.
Despite the knowledge that one of them would die…