Chapter Text
Harrow wouldn’t give up the scarab easily, Jake knew that. The guy was too obsessed with unleashing Ammit to let it slip through his fingers. Of course he would go to the extremes to get it back.
But tracking Steven down was off fucking limits.
It took every fiber in his being to not front when Steven spotted Harrow on the bus. Jake couldn't bludgeon a man to death out in public. At least, not right now. If it were nighttime, Jake would've killed him on the spot; there would be little to no witnesses, and the dark would've obscured his features.
That must be why Harrow chose to show up now rather than later.
Cheeky bastard.
For that reason alone, Jake was tempted to strike him down out of sheer pettiness, but he held himself back. He couldn't do it the middle of the day, not with Steven's fucking name tag out on display.
So, for the first time in Jake's life, he waited.
He let the bus pull away with Harrow on board. He let Steven run into work in a frenzy. He let Steven's co-workers brush off his cries for help, despite how badly he wanted to scream in Donna's face. Couldn't she listen to Steven for once in her pathetic life?
He allowed Steven to walk into a display room, but quickly regretted it. Steven, as paranoid as he was, somehow managed to miss the growing number of stares. But Jake didn't need to see their wrists to know who they were.
It wasn't long before Harrow's voice drifted into their ears.
"I assumed Steven Grant was an alias. Imagine my surprise to find you here."
The body tensed alongside Steven's growing fear, and Jake cursed in their mind. He was never supposed to interact with freaks like this — Marc was determined to keep him safe from this side of humanity, and Jake helped carry out that vision. It was a team effort, even if Marc didn't know it.
Marc's missions tended to be in the darkest crevices of London, or better yet, several countries away after Jake convinced Khonshu. When a target got away, Jake took them out. He couldn't risk someone remembering their face. When Marc had slip ups at their apartment, Jake would be there to cover his tracks. Keeping the act up took a lot of hard work, but they did it. They kept Steven alive and well, along with ensuring he was unaware of the lives they lived, and the lives they took.
But apparently, all it took was one elderly man to fuck it all up.
Jake inched towards the front. Of course, Arthur Harrow was the one to do it. That impatient son of a bitch could have waited until Marc was out with Khonshu, or when Jake was on cab duty.
But no, he went after Steven, the most vulnerable of them all. The one who wasn't involved in any of this.
And because of that decision, they couldn't protect Steven anymore. Not in the way they did before. Not in the way that should've went unchanged.
"Excuse me, Ronnie." Steven said, waving down a co-worker. His breath came out in short gasps. He gestured towards Harrow with a shaky hand. "This man has been following me."
His voice was frantic; his tone was enough for Jake to inch closer, but Ronnie was unmoved. He rolled up his sleeve, a ghost of a smile on his face: "Praise Ammit."
Jake laid just beneath the surface.
Steven stumbled back, his legs barely holding him upright as the body trembled. "Ronnie, you're part of this?"
Steven's voice was barely audible, reminiscent of a scared child. That's when Jake lost it.
He tried to be patient — he really did. Fronting now wasn't the wisest idea, but he didn't care. Steven had seen enough. He was done being an observer, only intervening when Steven was in immediate danger. As far as he was concerned, he was in danger the moment Harrow stepped one foot onto the property.
Before Steven could react, Jake pushed him to the back of their mind. That was enough for today. He would handle it from here.
“You have some nerve following him here,” Jake said as he turned to face Harrow, his change in accent as clear as day. Harrow stopped in his tracks. “The fuck do you want, Harbinger.”
Harrow eyed him cautiously, and Jake was delighted by that. "You're not Steven Grant."
"Sorry to disappoint," Jake apologized with a grin.
"Your accent doesn't match Marc — who are you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Before Jake could speak any further, Ronnie made his way over to him. Harrow raised an arm to stop him, but he moved around it.
He reached Jake in two strides. He was so close to him, Jake could feel his breath on his face, a clear act of intimidation. Too bad Steven wasn't in control. Otherwise, it might've meant something. “His name is Harrow,” Ronnie snarled as if Jake was the traitor here. “Arthur Harrow.”
Jake's eyes darted between him and that joke of a leader behind him. He knew Ronnie was morally bankrupt — the majority of Steven’s co-workers were nothing but assholes — but Jake was still surprised. Call him optimistic, but he thought draining the life out of people would be a huge turn off. Today was full of surprises, he supposed.
Jake tilted his head back and made no effort to hide his growing smile. “But I’m pretty close, right?” Jake said. He looked past Ronnie’s shoulder and grinned at Harrow. “Harbinger of death. That’s what you'll become when you unleash Ammit, right? Causing the death of innocents?”
Harrow’s eyes widened. He then raised his hands like he was calming a wild animal. If Jake wasn’t so enraged, he would’ve been insulted. “There must be some misunderstanding here,” he said. ”Ammit only goes after evildoers. No innocent life will be harmed when she’s unleashed.”
Jake let out a low, humorless laugh. What an oversimplification. What about the friends and families that would be affected? How about the chaos it would bring? It would be like the blip all over again. That didn't even take into account just how evil some people's actions truly were. Even if Jake wasn't informed about Ammit prior to meeting Harrow, he would've seen right through the bullshit. "You really think that crocodile of yours is some savior, huh?"
Jake attempted to move around Ronnie, but he matched his movements. In response, Jake shoved him violently to the side. The rest of Harrow's members moved from the sidelines, ready to jump into action. Jake welcomed the opportunity — he hadn't warmed up yet, today — but Harrow commanded them to stand down. And just like that, they did. What obedient little servants.
"Unlike Khonshu, she doesn't wait for sinners to commit their crime before punishing them." Harrow countered as Jake approached him. "She's a liberator, ridding the worst of humanity by the root, and her indolent fellow Gods punished her for it. They betrayed her."
It sounded too good to be true, and it was. He was sure of it. Jake knew enough about God's to doubt their words. Khonshu, the God he was supposed to represent, kept extending the list of missions he had to complete before replacing Marc as his new avatar. If he couldn't trust him, why the hell would he put his faith in another?
Harrow brought his wrist into the fluorescent light. "This is a gift from Ammit herself: past, present, and future. She knows what we've done, and what we will do."
Jake cocked his head to the side and pointed at Harrow's arm. "A little invasive, don't ya think?"
“It’s a small price to pay for salvation." Harrow said. "Would you wait to weed a garden till after the roses are dead?”
"I believe in innocence until proven guilty," Jake shrugged.
Harrow smiled, a little too enthusiastic for his taste. "And that's exactly what we're doing," he pointed out. “The scales show us what we need to know.”
“Do you have evidence from the crime scene? A witness testimony?” Jake argued. “Does that little tattoo provide context for their actions?"
Something passed over Harrow's eyes — hesitation, maybe — and Jake savored it. Nothing was sweeter than seeing someone doubt themselves.
"Had Ammit been free, she would have prevented —"
"You can spare me the spiel," Jake cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "Khonshu told me everything I need to know."
"What has he shared with you?"
"Enough."
Even though he had his grips about Khonshu, he knew he wouldn't sugarcoat his targets. You couldn't mask evil.
Harrow nodded, his eyes a story in itself. "I thought the same thing once."
He gingerly reached for Jake's wrist, but it was yanked away. "The hell are you doing?" Jake hissed.
"Khonshu blinds you. Only Ammit can show you the truth." Harrow emphasized. He said it softly, as if it would be enough to coax him. But in Jake's eyes, he just came off as desperate. It was sad, really.
"Oh, can you now?"
Harrow nodded. He held out an open palm, waiting for Jake to place his wrist upon it. "Khonshu holds you back, but Ammit can set you free, if you let her."
Set you free. If Ammit was capable of freeing Marc from his contract, he might've considered it. But that's not what Harrow said, now was it?
Jake allowed his hand to hover towards Harrow's, giving him a false sense of accomplishment. In a split second, Jake grabbed his wrist and twisted it. A crack omitted from the fracture.
Harrow's members circled around Jake. Jake got into a fighter stance, fists raised. The more the merrier.
A woman went for his arm, and Jake twisted her own. Just as backup was on it's way, Harrow shouted: "Let him go!"
"But Harrow, he's caused you harm!" a man argued.
"Let him go!" Harrow repeated. He attempted to sound stern this time, but his voice wavered. Good.
Jake released the woman. He looked over the rest of Harrow's members, waiting to see if anyone fell out of line. Unsurprisingly, they obeyed Harrow's orders.
Jake backed off. As he made his way to the exit, he looked over his shoulder. Ammit's followers were crowded around Harrow, assisting him in anyway they could. Jesus, they were acting like he shot him or some shit. He just broke his wrist.
"Nice meeting ya," Jake called out, giving Harrow a little wave. The fear in Harrow's eyes would be something he would never forget.
It wasn't until he was making his way to inventory did he realize Harrow never asked him for the scarab. Not even once.
He grinned at that.
—
Jake remained in control for the entirety of Steven's shift. Even though the old man had left the museum with a tremble in his step, Jake knew he would be back eventually. Fear could only post pone ambition for so long. He wouldn't hand the body back until he knew they were safe.
So he worked inventory. He followed Donna's orders with a strained smile. He waved the patrons out the door and closed up for the night. And now, he waited.
It was almost half an hour into closing before the intercom boomed to life.
“Steven Grant of the gift shop,” Harrow announced. “Give me the scarab, and you won't be torn apart.”
He said it with such confidence, Jake snorted. He must've assumed Steven would've fronted by now. And what if he was? Did Harrow truly, honestly believe he could get the information out of him scot-free? That by going after the weakest link he would prevail? If Harrow had done so much as lay a finger on Steven, Jake would've cut his hand clean off instead.
Jake looked at the nearest security camera and shook his head. He grinned from ear to ear. “Go fuck yourself.”
Though Harrow couldn’t hear him, the message got through. It wasn't long before a creature from hell itself came barreling through.
Oh, this would be fun.
The demonic dog — whatever the hell it was — lunged in front of him. Jake grabbed each end of its jaw and pried it open. It whined, swatting its claws at him, but Jake held it firmly it place. He extended it further and further until he heard a snap. As it yelped in pain, staggering aimlessly, Jake put it out of its misery with a blow to the head.
“Whoever you are, you’re putting Steven Grant in harm's way! Return the scarab to me and you’ll leave unscathed.”
The voice was less confident this time around. Jake smiled at that. He must've finally gotten the memo.
Steven would be fine though. Jake didn’t need the word of some old man to guarantee that. A second creature charged towards him, and he booked it down the hall.
He would’ve loved to toss that thing around the artifact room, but he didn’t want Steven to face any serious charges.
As he ran further down the hall, he became strikingly aware that the rooms were most likely locked. There wasn’t even an exit at the end.
Except for one. The janitors haven’t clocked off yet.
“Nope, notta,” Jake listed aloud as he moved past the doors. The creature stumbled after him, but he remained in the lead. Then, he saw the marked door. “Bingo.”
He threw it open and stepped into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him.
His eyes darted back and forth as he took in the place.
Okay, this wasn’t the ideal battle ground, but he could work with it. There were plenty of sinks to use as barricades, and he could shatter a mirror if necessary. A sharp piece of glass would be a nice weapon.
The creature clawed at the door with a screech . It was coming in, but Jake still had time —
“Steven,” a voice cut through his thoughts. The intrusion was so sudden, Jake jumped. He looked over his shoulder to find Marc staring back at him.
Marc was talking to him, looking at him for the first time in his life.
Jake told himself years ago he would never be acknowledged by the system, and convinced himself it was for the best. He was a protector alter; as long as he kept Marc and Steven safe, that's all that mattered. Or so he thought. He couldn't ignore the warmth in his chest.
He was so caught up in the feeling that he almost forgot one thing: Marc thought he was Steven.
After masquerading as him for hours now, of course he would think that. Jake's newfound joy was cut short. What the hell was he thinking?
"Steven, I can save us, but I can't have you fightin' me this time." Marc said. " You need to give me control. You understand?"
Before Jake could hand the body over, the creature broke through.
That hellish thing propelled towards him, and soon found itself choking for air. Jake held its neck tightly in his hands as he swung the body into one of the sinks. The porcelain shattered, and the broken faucet sent water spouting. The creature lost traction on the now slippery surface. It whined, knocking over additional sinks and shattering mirrors as it tried to escape Jake's clutches. What was once the predator was now the prey.
It scrambled across the room, using whatever fallen object was nearest to it as a barricade. But it was futile. There were only so many places one can go before getting cornered.
Jake beat until it no longer moved. He then grabbed a piece of glass from the floor, slitting its throat until it no longer breathed.
Jake stepped back to admire his work. He listened closely to hear if anymore were on there way, but all he picked up on was the water spraying into the room.
He winced. So much for avoiding serious charges.
"Not bad, huh?" Jake joked to himself out of habit, then clicked his tongue. He didn't attempt to mask is accent. But at this point? It didn't really matter. It was clear who he was, and who he wasn't.
"You're not Steven."
He looked back at the mirror to find Marc shaking. Jake hated the implications of that.
"You didn’t summon the suit.”
“Didn’t need it.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the guy that just saved our ass.” Jake wiped at his forehead, pausing when blood met his palm. Okay, maybe he needed the suit a little. He put his hands underneath a broken faucet. “But you can call me Jake. Rolls off the tongue easier, I bet.”
Marc shifted his weight. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Protecting us, or fighting off Harrow?"
A beat passed by as Marc took in the weight of those words. Finally, he emphasized: "How long?"
Jake sucked in a breath. He's been doing this since day one, but Marc didn't need to know that. He didn't need the specifics. He pulled his hands back, shaking them to air dry. "A while now."
Marc went deathly quiet, and Jake was afraid he would disappear. He thought he would be fine with Khonshu being the only connection he had to Marc and Steven, but now he wasn't sure he could return to a life like that.
“I'm sorry.”
Jake furrowed his brows. “What for?” And he meant it. There was no reason to apology.
“I'm supposed to do this on my own."
No. No, that's not true. Even when Marc thought he was alone, he wasn't. They were a team. They've always been, even before Khonshu.
"It’s my burden to take.” Marc continued. “And I didn’t. I didn’t know —“
“—That you had another alter?”
Marc’s voice dropped, no louder than a whisper. His eyes went wide. “You know about Steven?”
Jake softly smiled. “Of course I do.”
Marc looked to the side. He tried to hide his reaction, but he didn't have to. Jake already knew his mannerisms. After a moment, Marc looked back at him, remnants of tears rimmed around his eyes. "Thank you for looking out for him."
I’ve been looking out for you as well, Jake wanted to add, but knew Marc wouldn’t believe it nor accept it. That’s okay, he knew how guilt ridden he could get. He could tell him later because now he could tell him later.
"No need to thank me," Jake said as he surveyed the room. "It's all in a day's work."
They were all safe. For now, anyways. But his work wasn't done yet.
Jake began to make his way to the exit.
“Is Harrow still here?” Marc said, reading his mind.
"Probably not, but it doesn't hurt to check." Jake shrugged as he made his way to the exit. "Don't worry though, we'll find him."
"You don't have — I can find him, " Marc stammered. "You don't have to do it alone."
He's right, he didn't have to do it alone. And neither did Marc.
Jake quirked a brow. "You're not going to fall asleep anytime soon, are you?"
"I...No."
Jake smiled at the mirror as he opened the door. "Then I'm not alone."
Just as Jake stepped into the hall, he took one last glimpse into the room. There was a hint of a smile on Marc's face.
Ironically, Harrow, the man that was determined to tear them apart, was what brought them together. Jake chuckled as he walked down the hall.