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Chapter Text

New York City! Center of the universe!

Layla and Team Moon Knight are here for a whole week. On the cheap, too, because they're crashing at Bucky Barnes' flat. He's not in town, but he said they were welcome to house-sit -- as long as they keep it clean, bring in the mail, and fight off any attempted break-ins.

(Bucky also claimed the thing keeping him busy was "running for Congress." Marc assumed that was a joke, until he saw it in the actual news. This has to be some kind of cover story, right??)

Monday!

Steven and Layla have a lovely date at the Brooklyn Museum.

Steven figured the highlight would be the ancient Egyptian collection...until he slowly realizes that, by now, he knows more about this stuff than the actual curators. He spots an inauthentic replica all on his own! And recognizes two more when Layla points them out.

So they spend most of their visit casing a traveling exhibit of Mesoamerican artifacts. Then, after hours, Steven stands guard while Layla sneaks back in to steal one of their ceremonial urns.

Not usually her jurisdiction -- but it turns out this relic belongs to a "frenemy" of Princess Shuri, and she asked Layla to pick it up. As a professional favor from one Avatar to another.

Tuesday!

Marc finds an underground boxing ring. Wins three matches in a row! Only to have the fourth contender pummel him so badly, he has to be carried out of the ring.

He summons the suit in a grungy bathroom to patch up the worst of it. Which prompts Khonshu to show up and get snippy about him "not recognizing a very obvious Asgardian."

Marc disappears the hood and cowl to give him an incredulous look. "You couldn't have tipped me off about that before I got any teeth knocked out?"

Grudgingly, the old god admits, "I thought you could take him."

Wednesday!

Jake goes looking for the Defenders, and ends up getting roped into a bodyguard job. There's a witness who needs to get out of town before "someone who, for legal reasons, we cannot say is Wilson Fisk" has her murdered. 

Daredevil doesn't stay afterward -- it seems mild-mannered lawyer Matt Murdock has a court appearance -- but the rest of them hit up Jake's new favorite diner to celebrate their murder-free night.

Danny Rand insists it's all on his tab. Jessica Jones quips that "Rand can't think of any more efficient way to invest in the community than taking all his hungriest friends to dinner."

Jake takes this as a challenge to eat the most empanadas of anyone in the group. It doesn't work -- Luke Cage has some kind of super-soldier metabolism, and besides, he's starting with twice the Knights' body mass -- but it sure is fun trying.

Thursday!

The guys surprise their tween-girl headmate with a visit to the Paley Center, showcasing the artifacts and archives of television history.

Ruby didn't copy her whole personality from Wanda Maximoff -- any more than Steven copied all of his from Tomb Buster -- but it turns out they're similar enough that Ruby gets starstruck over the original costumes from Happy Days and I Love Lucy. The team sits through a special big-screen presentation of a Honeymooners episode, and a bunch of fun behind-the-scenes "how we made this sitcom" clips in the media viewing rooms.

It's exciting enough that the kid actually fronts for a while that evening, to regale Layla with the best details over takeout. Marc, Steven, and Jake are all blushingly gratified at how much Layla genuinely seems interested.

...then Ruby and Jake both tap out, because it's Marc's birthday. (The others vary on how far they identify with the body's physical birthday, but Marc unambiguously does.) And Steven and Layla have some very specific plans for how to give him...a happy one.

Friday!

Layla goes for a jog (or maybe a flight), so the Knights can have their telehealth appointment with Dr. Sterman in private. At the usual time for her in London, which means over breakfast (authentic NYC bagels and lox) in Brooklyn.

Freshly-therapized, they set out in the crisp early-spring afternoon to visit the New York Sanctum, hoping to catch Doctor Strange.

No such luck -- he's out of town too. And, unfortunately...as they have to admit to the middle-management sorcerer on duty, who's deeply confused about how this random guy in plainclothes even found the place...they didn't make an appointment.

They settle for leaving a callback number.

Saturday!

They do, in fact, get a break-in at Bucky's apartment.

Luckily, the trespasser reveals herself as Yelena Belova before their scuffle can get any mess on the furniture.

"Simple equipment retrieval," she informs them, wholly unfazed by the crescent dart a few inches from her jugular. "I have Barnes' permission."

Seems credible enough to the Knights, who let Yelena up...but Layla reaches for her phone. "So if we call Bucky right now, he'll confirm that?"

Yelena gives her a sullen look, and amends, "I will have Barnes' permission. Once I get around to asking."

In the end, they let her take what she came for. (A tiny locked metal case. Stored ominously in the freezer. Hidden inside an empty tub of ice cream, flavor "Raspberry Thorbet.") But not without snapping a photo and texting it to Bucky first.

☽

On Sunday, they take a preventive dose of anti-anxiety meds and go back to the diner.

Wanda's already there, in a corner booth. "The Minimoffs are back at the Barton farm," she assures them. "Clint says, once I have a place of our own sorted out, they're probably old enough to be left alone without destroying anything? But it's taking a while to close the deal. And I promised I wouldn't use mind-control for real-estate purposes."

The Knights have follow-up questions. Wanda happily tells them more about the apartment-hunting process: how she picked which continent to settle on, how much she's excited to find an interesting fixer-upper.

"Sounds like what Layla said when she met Marc," deadpans Jake.

Marc blushes. Steven laughs.

Then the real reason for their visit walks through the main doors.

"Privacy illusion. He can't see us yet," Wanda reminds them, as Elias Spector looks cautiously around the tables before making his way to the counter. "Whenever you're ready."

"We're hardly going to get any readier," points out Steven. He stands them up, before shifting control of the body to Marc. "Come on. Let's go say hi to your dad."

☽

It's not perfect. Far from it. If anything, it feels like the longest and most exhausting conversation Marc's been through in his entire life.

But it's not a complete disaster, either!

They asked Elias to read up on DID before they talked, and he mentions things he learned in the reading. They fill in some details of their Moon Knighting career -- not as shocking as it could be, he's suspected the basics for like a year by now -- and he takes it more-or-less in stride. They push back when he says something inappropriate or upsetting, and the man is clearly trying to respect their boundaries, even the ones he doesn't understand.

They agree he'll be allowed to visit them again.

(At some point. No hurry. Exact date and location TBD.)

Layla drives them back to the flat. They promise they'll give her a full debrief as soon as they feel up to it...then promptly fall asleep for four hours.

Mission success.

☽

It's technically early Monday morning by the time they get a response from Bucky. They're all in bed, trying to sleep in anticipation of their flight tomorrow, when Steven's soothing podcast is interrupted by the buzz of his phone.

He fumbles with the lock screen, grins, and shows Layla the group chat with the series of thumbs-up emojis. "Looks like we're in the clear."

"Oh, good," murmurs Layla, snuggling into him.

Steven sets the phone down on the guest-room nightstand, and sinks back into his pillow. "I fuckin' love this city. Can we move here?"

Pause.

"Uh...sorry, we're blendy," admits Steven/Jake. "That wasn't a team discussion, that was just...one guy's impulse."

Steven doesn't want to move. He likes London. All their travels to Europe and North Africa are easier from London. Their first amazing, competent, non-evil therapist is in London. And they only even moved into their current place...what, a year ago? Two? It can't be three years, surely...?

Jake, though. Jake loves NYC. All the best fights are here. A bunch of their coolest friends, including one of his favorite hot lawyers, live here. A US home base would make their travels in the Americas easier -- and even when they're not being sent around the world, there's always something happening here.

Ruby is...cautiously interested. A lot of great TV is set and/or filmed in this city. Almost as importantly: her personal superhero idol, Ms. Marvel, lives right across the river.

Marc is weighing the options, calculating the risks. He doesn't have a lot of prized possessions, he can rebuild anywhere. They can't afford rent in both cities, and they shouldn't try to ship all Steven's books and junk across the Atlantic...but they can put a lot in storage. Living in their birth country, which Layla also has a claim to by marriage, would involve a lot less paperwork. (Although he's Hispanic and she's Middle Eastern, so a good chunk of the US will assume they're not real citizens anyway...)

Would Dr. Sterman be willing to do a lot more telehealth appointments? Starting over with a new doctor...that's a measure Marc can't imagine being good with. And Jake has to admit he's not so hot on the idea either. It took so long for the whole system to trust this one...

Also: living in the US would make it convenient to visit with Dad more often.

Which, wow, best argument Jake's ever heard for not doing it.

"I could see us living here," muses Layla. "If it wasn't just an impulse for you. I do like this city, but...picking up our whole lives, moving all the way to a different continent...I'm not doing that unless it's really worth it."

"It might not be worth it," admits Marc/Jake. "It's not just an impulse, but...it's complicated."

"Well, there's no rush to figure it out," says Layla. "Even if we signed a rental agreement tomorrow...I don't think we'd be state residents for long enough to be eligible to vote Bucky."

Chapter Text

"Excellent news!" bellows Thor, his booming voice carrying across the world's most famous giant circle of rocks. "New Asgardian animal control is sending a transport! We merely need to keep the beasts entertained until then."

"Great!" yelps Jake, as a rambunctious jackal puppy sinks its teeth into his cape and yanks him delightedly around the henge. "We can handle that!"

Steven swaps forward, so the cape disappears. His momentum keeps right on going, so he skids through the grass and slams head-first into a stone pillar.

"They are still dangerous, unnatural monsters, my Knights," lectures Khonshu, crouching on top of the pillar to loom over them. "It would be better to destroy them."

"They are fuzzy wuzzy puppies, and we will do no such thing," says Steven dizzily. He draws one of his truncheons, and gives it an unsteady hurl through one of the arches. "Fetch!"

The first jackal takes off after it!

A second tries to jump on Steven instead. Luckily Thor gets to him in time, hauls the creature off of him -- apparently they're perfectly visible to gods, even the non-Egyptian gods -- and distracts this one by hurling Mjolnir.

"A question, Embracer, while I have you here," says Thor, as they sit against the tallest stone slab and play fetch with all three fuzzy wuzzy unnatural monsters. "The message you left, about a marriage...who exactly is getting married?"

"We are!" Steven gestures at his own body with both hands, and disappears his mask so Thor can see his proud grin. (Normally Stonehenge would be full of tourists, but the mini monster invasion has it cleared-out.) "Me, Marc, Jake -- Layla's not here, but Layla too -- so you see why we're looking for someone who can handle...weird supernatural situations."

"I certainly do!" exclaims Thor. "Then you absolutely must go with my recommendation for the wedding planner. Finest in all the Nine Realms."

Steven's face falls. "Ah...yes."

They actually got the same rec from Darcy Lewis. ("She's still bummed she never got called up to do Thor and Jane's wedding, planning a ceremony for two-to-four Avatars might be a sweet consolation prize.") But when they called...

"We gave her a look. It fell through."

One of the puppies practically throws itself in Thor's lap, trying to drop Mjolnir in his face. He throws the hammer again -- it's clearly a better prize than either of Steven's nightsticks, it does all this fun swerving and circling while you chase it -- and wipes the unnatural slobber from his beard. "Does she require a referral? I would be honored to provide."

"It's not that," admits Steven. "It's just -- afraid she turned out to be a bit out of our price range."

The god frowns. "What does she require? Gold? Jewels? Acts of service?"

"Mostly a whole lot of Earth money...and then also...a lock of hair, from some queen of an extradimensional realm?" Steven sighs. "The beings from Khonshu's dimension are already on bad terms with enough other civilizations. We're really not keen on picking a fight with a new one."

Thor plies him for details anyway. And when Steven comes out with the lady's name...if anything, the god looks relieved. "Why, that should be no hardship! Last I knew, Aelsa Featherwine, Queen of the Light Elves, had hair nearly down to her feet. She can hardly complain about missing a lock."

☽

The next afternoon, Thor shows up at their apartment door, with a neatly-folded gift box and a truly staggering set of burn injuries.

"I may have miscalculated Queen Aelsa's attachment to her hair," he says cheerfully.

Marc stares at the box, afraid to open it. "You didn't..."

"Not to worry! I did not bring Khonshu's name into it," says Thor, completely misunderstanding their concern. "I simply entreated her for mercy as a survivor of the Asgardian genocide. It turns out, news travels quite slowly in Alfheim -- this was the queen's first time hearing there was an Asgardian genocide. Once that was cleared up, she was merciful indeed."

He presses the box into their astonished hands.

"The injuries are temporary. The beard should grow back fully within a few Earth years! And in the meantime -- you may consider this my wedding present."

Chapter Text

Marc and Layla are both already running on fumes by the time the impossibly-large fingers appear on the horizon. Unfortunately, there's no other land anywhere closer to touch down, so they just have to suck it up and keep pushing until they finally crash-land on a giant stone thumb.

"Never again," pants Layla, stowing her shiny golden wings so she can safely flop on her back. "Next time...any flight this long...Jean-Paul takes us in the jet."

Marc, face-down, summons enough energy to scooch closer to Layla and toss his cape over her. If any hostile come by, the off-white fabric will give them a little camouflage against the off-white giant. "Frenchie had a thing today."

"Right, right," sighs Layla. "With the hot physical therapist."

After a few seconds, Marc realizes he should be offended. "Hey."

"Not hotter than you, habibi." Layla makes a move to hold his hand under the cape, though she runs out of energy before she gets there. "You don't...have to be jealous...of the hot gay man...who's already dating your friend."

They lie there in weary silence for a while.

In fact, other than the dull roar of the waves far below, everything is pretty silent.

"Khonshu," says Marc at last. "The battle. Where is it?"

Two weathered mummy-boots step into his field of view. "Well," says Khonshu. "About that."

Layla lets out a groan. "Did we miss it?!"

"Did you seriously," pants Marc, "send us all this way, when we weren't even gonna...?"

"Under normal circumstances, there would still be ongoing hostilities, and you would have arrived in time to be necessary," huffs Khonshu. "I underestimated Sam Wilson's talent at de-escalation."

Chapter Text

"You don't need any kind of formal training in meditation. Just sit with your legs crossed and breathe nice and slow," directs Strange. He mirrors the pose for the Knights, sitting across from their body on a matching fancy woven rug.

There are a bunch of carpets and tapestries in this room in general, between the elaborate wooden carvings and fancy golden lamps. Team Moon Knight hasn't gotten a full tour of Kamar-Taj, so they don't know if this is standard decor for the whole place, or if they're just in "the storage room for the rugs."

"And can you drop the suit?" adds Strange, eyeing Marc's armor. "Makes it hard to tell which things I'm picking up are your vibes, and which are Ancient Egyptian God vibes."

Marc gives him a skeptical look. "Is 'vibes' supposed to be an official mystical term, here?"

"No, the official term is..." He says a string of syllables that might be Sanskrit. "There, see? That blank stare is why I said 'vibes'. Look, I promise, nobody else is going to come in and bother us. Unless America Chavez has a misfire with her portals -- but it's three AM local time, all the sorcerer trainees are asleep."

"...Yeah. Okay."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Marc lets Khonshu's ceremonial armor unwind and fade away. He's glad Jake was the one who packed for this trip -- they didn't put on the fake mustache, but they're wearing a nice black suit.

"Go ahead," he says.

Strange leans forward and bops him on the chest.

Marc's astral projection falls backward out of the body. Wearing the translucent grey version of a threadbare jacket and wrinkled jeans.

"I guess you're not the one with the fashion sense," quips Strange. "Next guy, are you ready?"

The second bop pushes out Steven, in a collared shirt with a goldfish print, curls falling messily around his face. The third brings Jake, in a copy of his sharp suit-and-tie, jaw artfully scruffy. A fourth brings out Ruby: the only one who looks drastically different, a young girl in a white dress, shoulder-length red hair tied back with a white bow.

Their physical body sags in place, eyes glazed. A soft glow of magic holds it up.

The Cloak of Levitation rises from its resting position on Strange's shoulders, swirls over, and uses a corner of its tall collar to pat them cautiously on the cheek.

Strange gives their chest an equally-cautious tap.

No new astral projection joins the lineup.

"So...that's it," says the projection of Steven, as neutrally as he can manage. "Failsafe Mode really did fuse."

They're all careful not to look at Marc. (For various reasons, they're all pretty sure the "empty suit" headmate integrated with Marc, specifically. But that's a really personal detail, not something they need Strange to know.)

"I was going to call the process..." Strange fills in another possibly-Sanskrit magic word. "Either way, yeah. Looks like that's happened."

"And there's nobody else in there?" asks Marc. He's a little scared of the answer, but for once, he's not too scared to even think about the question. "Definitely not any new, secret, previously-unknown Sixth Knight who's going to jump out and join the party?"

"As far as I can tell? No," says the sorcerer. "Not sure your psyche is empty right now...but I don't think there's any whole Other Person in there, just bits stuck around the sides. I might be able to scrape off one of the bits and pull it out for a closer look..."

(The Knights all get mental images of Strange knocking a swath of astral furniture out of headspace. Possibly along with some of the walls.)

"...but my professional medical advice is, let's not."

Translucent nods of agreement all around.

Steven takes point on asking a couple more questions. Not about their psychiatric condition, but about the Mystic Arts. They'll probably never get a safer opportunity to ask things like "in your professional opinion, how easy would we be to possess right now?"

Then Marc steps forward and crouches in front of the Cloak (still hovering next to their body, looking pretty forlorn. At least, as much as a piece of fabric can).

"Can you see me?" he asks. (It bounces in the affirmative.) "Good. Sorry about...this. We miss it too."

It scoots over to pat Marc's cheek. (Or, you know, the air where his astral cheek appears.)

Marc gives the crimson fabric an insubstantial pseudo-pat in return. "Listen, we wanted to ask. Is there any kind of...traditional memorial service...for things like you?"

The Cloak bobs yes again.

"Wait, seriously?" asks Strange. (Another bounce for yes.) "Where? Since when? What kind?" (A whole bunch of bobbing and waving.) "Yeah, that means nothing to me. Look, if I hit the books later, could you point me to something that would explain it?"

A final, determined yes.

"Great. Been out of med school for decades, and I'm still getting homework," says Strange to the Knights. "I will look that up, and get back to you."

Then it's time to get re-embodied.

In reverse order. Ruby first. Then Jake, as quickly as possible, so there's someone who can hold the front without serious body dysphoria.

Strange pauses for a moment before pushing Steven back in. "Okay, look, obviously the girl's different," he says. "But as for the other three...you get that you really do look like twins or triplets, right?"

"We were born multiple years apart, we don't have the same parents, we're not even all from the same country," says Steven cheerfully. "We're just a couple of unrelated blokes who happen to look very similar. That's not a problem, that is an entire PornHub category, and if you don't believe us you can ask our fiancee-slash-wife for recommendations."

"Don't need to," says Strange.

All three sets of eyebrows in front of him -- two astral, one physical -- jump at once.

"That's -- I mean -- you know what? No." The sorcerer straightens his back and squares his shoulders. "I will not panic and try to clarify that. I stand by my statement. In fact, I'm doubling down." He waves Marc closer to the body. "Get over here, I need to get both of you inside him at the same time."

Chapter Text

One of the bat-demon-things knocks Wade fully off the side of the mountain, sending him into a hilarious series of Looney-Tunes thuds down a steep brown mostly-rock slope. If they did this in a movie, they wouldn't need to use CGI, they could just chuck a life-size rubber Deadpool off a cliff and film it bouncing.

Wade breaks his neck a couple thumps in, so he doesn't know for sure how far down he got before Moon Knight scoops him up. Just that he comes around to find himself carried in a heavily-bandaged set of muscular arms.

"Heeeey," croons Wade, still thinking about that life-size rubber Deadpool. "Merch idea!"

The bandages flip into black body armor. Annoyed them enough to switch already, huh, that has to be a record. "I'm not askin'. I don't wanna know."

He drops Wade in a heap next to the battle, up on a flat-ish ridge dotted with scrubby plants, and starts whipping out the crescent darts. Logan and Laura are getting seriously harried by the rest of the bat-squad, and Layla has already joined them, sword-wings and all.

(It's twilight out here, so Laura swapped her cool heart-shaped sunglasses for a pair of heart-shaped dark-vision goggles. The lenses have to adjust when the moon on the horizon helpfully doubles in brightness.)

"Just here for a -- casual mission?" pants Layla, yanking a critically-impaled demon off Laura's claws. "Or is there -- something serious happening?"

"Casual," grunts Logan, drop-kicking another injured demon past Wade (who's busy getting his arms back in their sockets the right way round) and over the cliff. "Training mission for the kid. Laura, this is Scarlet Scarab, and the guy in black is Moon Knight. Scarab, Moony, meet X-23, code name Laura."

"Hi," says Laura. "To be clear, I'm twenty."

A bat-demon tries to dive-bomb them from overhead. Logan and Laura have identical reactions -- same reflexes, same fighting style, same extra-pointy nails.

Also, make sure your mental image of them includes adorable matching TVA jackets. It's very Take Your Daughter To Murder-y Work Day.

Neither of the newcomers asks about the parallels. Layla just takes a flying leap to drive a sword through the demon (while Jake crescent-darts another as it tries to sneak-attack her from behind). "Okay, listen -- you remember the proposal? We don't have wedding invitations yet -- we don't even have save-the-date notices -- but who knows when we'll see you again! So this is your 'be prepared for a save-the-date notice' notice."

"Cool." Laura scans around the mountaintop, doesn't see any lingering demons, and starts wiping the ichor off her claws. "I've never been to a wedding! For a while we thought Elektra might have one? But Matt was real uptight about not doing it until they found a priest, and then he got murdered anyway."

"Just when you thought the Sad Void Backstory couldn't get any sadder!" Wade drags himself to his feet. He's healed enough to do that now, more or less. "Uh. Is Peanut Junior invited, though?"

"We were thinkin' you and Logan," says Jake, "but we got room for plus-ones. Figured you'd probably wanna bring your wife. Logan can bring, uh... la protegida?"

He pauses, maybe for an internal vocabulary lesson. Layla gets there first, though: "Your protégé?"

Logan sighs. "Clone, okay? She's a clone."

It startles Jake into another switch. This time, with Steven. 

While the Knights struggle to switch back -- they must not be ready to explain the different voices to a new person, even if that person is Mini-Logan -- Layla smoothly carries the conversation. "Is this a special mutant thing, or...?"

"Nah, it's the normal thing you're thinkin'," says Logan gruffly. "We know your personal stuff, so there you go, now you know mine."

Good thing Laura is watching the Logan-Layla exchange now, because there's a moment when Inner Child gets startled into fronting. (And they might need to explain that, so Laura wouldn't think they were poking fun at trans people when they manifested a skirt.)

"They don't know all your personal stuff!" chirps Wade, covering until Jake switches back in. "If we want to be totally fair, we should tell them about the threesomes."

"Hey!" yells Laura, clapping her hands theatrically over her ears. "Keep it clean! There's a kid present, remember?"

Chapter Text

It's one of those flashpoint moments that's going to go down in history. The kind where everyone will remember Where They Were When They Heard The News.

For the Moon Knights, they're outside a brightly-painted Canadian toy store, trying to give Jeanne-Marie Beaubier permission to go in: "If anyone looks at you funny, just get cross with them and say you're shopping for a birthday gift for your niece."

The younger (but still adult) woman makes a face. With her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun so you can see the slight point to her ears, she looks like Aelsa Featherwyne's disapproving schoolmarm. "Mon frère is..."

Steven tenses, worried he's stepped in some kind of drama. It's only been six-ish months since the long-lost Beaubier twins rediscovered each other, and "having a healthy sibling relationship" is a process they're still figuring out.

"...not ze marrying kind."

What, is that all?

"Well, my brother's not exactly out reproducing either," says Steven briskly. "Doesn't mean you can't have a spiritual niece. ...oh! Sorry, I have to take this."

He reaches into a coat pocket for his phone, which just did the "text from somebody important" buzz.

It's from Barnes.

Sent to a whole group of numbers, including the Knights', Layla's, Wanda's, and a bunch he doesn't recognize: Anyone near DC please respond ASAP

And then a link to a CNN breaking-news feed.

"What?" asks Jeanne-Marie, as the Knights lean heavily on the nearest lamppost to keep from falling over. "What is it? Can I 'elp?"

Lost for words, they hand her the phone.

Credible reports are saying that President Ross turned into a Hulk (?!) in the middle of the Rose Garden (!!) and is now on a rampage, with only Sam Wilson on-site to fight back (!?!?!). Wilson is real good at what he does, and he's got custom-engineered Wakandan body armor that can absorb a superhuman amount of impact, but against a Hulk...!

"Do you want us to go?"

They look up with a start. She still has Jeanne-Marie's hairdo and Jeanne-Marie's buttoned-up outfit, but that's Aurora in front now.

"We fly now, remember?" says Aurora. "And we have super-speed. We've been racing with Jean-Paul sometimes, you would not believe the speeds we can hit. We can use GPS to find DC, and once we're there, I'm sure the giant red fellow won't be hard to spot -- shall we go?"

Their reaction is a tangled mess -- someone is thinking yes, please, go help Sam while we can't, while someone else counters with hell no, you stay as far away from an angry Hulk as humanly possible --

"How far?" they pant. No sense throwing her into a repeat of their Celestial Island fiasco. "Look it up. If you can make it..."

A dizzying silence while she types something into Maps...

"Oh," says Aurora, softly disappointed. "Even by plane, it's an hour and a half. I -- I can't out-fly a plane."

"Wouldn't ask you to, pajarita," says Jake miserably. An hour from now, either Sam will have already figured out how to de-escalate this, or...he won't. "Can you -- get us up to a roof or -- or somethin'? Don't really wanna -- freak out in public."

"Better idea..."

In the blink of an eye, Aurora zips them into a gym.

Marc/Jake absolutely haven't paid for any gym memberships in Canada, and they're pretty sure she didn't slow down enough to grab them a guest pass -- but who cares. This room has a whole row of punching bags swinging from the industrial ceiling. And when he takes a step toward them, he realizes he's already standing in a full-size padded boxing ring.

Across from them, Aurora drops their coats in a messy pile, rolls up Jeanne-Marie's sleeves, and puts up her dukes. "Let it out."

So they go for it.

It's exactly what the Knights need right now. Aurora's tough enough that they can go all-out without feeling like monsters. Uses enough super-speed that they burn through all their energy just trying to keep up, without making her enhancement obvious to an outside viewer.

And when they start to get viewers -- who knew, a lot of people find "two attractive, athletic people expertly sparring with each other" more intriguing than their regular workouts -- she's savvy enough to work the crowd. A little wave when she catches someone's eye, a flirty wink when she dodges a punch.

Nothing to worry about here, folks! Just a couple friends, having an affectionate friendly spar. Pay no attention to the guy who looks like he's this-close to freaking out. He just doesn't know how to make a normal face.

When the Knights are finally too worn-out to peel themselves off the mat and keep going...five men and two women try to get Aurora's number.

(Another two men crouch next to the ring and try to get Marc/Jake's. He's not too flattened to give them each a glower and hiss, "Taken.")

And by the time they remember what they were distracting themselves from...Aurora reads off CNN that the US President has been brought under control. Without murdering Captain America along the way.

"I 'ad no fear," insists Jeanne-Marie, while the Knights pull her into a tight hug of helpless relief. "Ze President 'as anozzer ex-Widow for a security advisor, did you know? And she was 'elping M'sieur Wilson. We destroyed ze Red Room, we triumphed over ze Red Dust -- we would not 'esitate to manage a Red 'Ulk."

Chapter Text

When Wanda opens the door of the building, Darcy and her casserole immediately get investigated by the weirdest-looking dog she's ever seen.

"The actual living space is upstairs," says Wanda, leading her past a mostly-gutted shop interior. Lots of exposed beams, sawdust, and plastic sheeting. "Don't mind the mess. I'm experimenting with renovating the slow way."

"Sounds fun."

Wanda takes the casserole. Not with her hands. It just glows red, rises out of Darcy's grip and floats alongside them. The weird dog immediately trots under it, nose held hopefully in the air.

"Don't mind the jackal, either," adds Wanda as they head up the stairs. "We're fostering."

"So, uh...that's definitely not a normal jackal," says Darcy. Looks like it walked right off the wall of a tomb. "Is it a full-on Egyptian-hieroglyph jackal?"

"Ah...sort of." Wanda opens the apartment door, and sends the dish hovering off to the kitchen. "She used to be more of an invisible-eldritch-monster jackal. But it's hard to find a safe Forever Home for one of those. When I tried to give her a redesign, this is how she came out."

They head into the living area -- which might or might not have been decorated with a magic assist? It's not one of the specific sets from the Hex, or from 2 Hex 2 Furious. Darcy would recognize those. But it sure does perfectly evoke a sitcom set from the 1990s.

All the other guests are already here, enjoying a fun variety of drinks and appetizers. Sam and Bucky on one couch, Layla and the shared body of Team Moon Knight on another.

Darcy can't ID which of the Knights is driving yet, so she doesn't use a name, just points at the whole group. "You." Then waves at the Anubis-looking canine. "That was your doing, wasn't it."

"Oi! All we did was hand some puppies over to supernatural animal control." Okay, that's Steven. "We didn't make any particular person show up at the shelter and go 'yes, that extradimensional horror is the pet for me'."

The jackal, like she knows she's being talked about, trots over to his side and puts her paws up on the cushion. Steven, for all his bluster, immediately starts skritching between her fuzzy ears.

"Foster pet," repeats Wanda. "I thought we might keep one, if the boys bonded? But it turns out, in the real world, they're not as excited about having a dog anymore."

She nods down a hall toward the Minimoffs' room (rooms?). Muffled behind a door, Darcy can hear the distinct sound of Runescape.

"Makes sense," puts in Sam, raising his glass. "You already got them all the media released since the 1990s. Plus the chance to connect with other kids their own age...that their mom didn't make, I mean. All that and a dog would be overkill."

"Oh! Speaking of overkill!" Darcy exclaims, as she settles into an armchair. There's a big platter of snacks on a low table; she swipes a handful of cheese cubes and grapes. "Cap! How are you doing? Are you okay? Do you still need any medical attention, is Wanda on a kick for only doing non-magic healing, because I will talk her back into busting out the magic healing."

To everyone's relief, Sam is fully recovered! With a few more questions, he ends up explaining the whole backstory of how he ended up fighting a Hulk.

It's more involved than Darcy had realized. (Look, she kinda figured "the US President loses his cool and starts beating on Black [Captain] America" made sense on its own, without needing any extra backstory.)

There's a tangent when Layla and probably-Marc-now are startled to hear about the metal that's been refined from The Giant Stone Hand In The Ocean. Apparently they've heard of "adamantium" before. The multiverse-hopping Wade Wilson has weapons that use it, and Wade has a buddy who...has bones made of it?

"Neither of them is from this universe -- but we didn't realize it hadn't been discovered in this universe," adds Marc. "Just figured it was something that we, personally, hadn't heard of."

Layla, the resident antiquities expert, points out that there were already materials called adamant. "Any universe with those could independently come up with the word adamantium for a new thing, right? They don't have to be the same new thing."

"Next time the bone guy visits, invite him to spar with me," offers Bucky. He fake-flexes his vibranium bicep. "We can see how his cool-rare-metal arms stack up against mine."

"...and speaking of visitors from the multiverse," adds Sam.

Everyone turns to him.

"The man who orchestrated Ross's downfall. The one with the gamma-enhanced brain activity," says Sam. "He gave me this cryptic warning..."

He spells it all out for them, in as much precise detail as he remembers. Even putting all their heads together, Darcy, Wanda, Bucky, Layla, and Marc-and-company can't help him figure out if Brain Guy was being sincere, or if the 'warning' was just one last manipulation tactic.

"He said it like the whole idea of 'fielding conflicts from another universe' would be a dramatic reveal. So maybe he didn't realize we've already dealt with a bunch of those over the past few years," reflects Sam.

The alternate Wanda who cut a swath of destruction through a whole string of universes, only stopped when she hit this one. At least two incursions revolving around groups of Spider-Men. (Wanda and the Knights know deets, but they've promised not to share.) A worrying amount of chaos and drama revolving around Wade.

"But it's also possible that we could have an even bigger one on the horizon. So, everyone, just...stay on your toes, okay?"

The jackal wanders over to him, flops across his feet, and rolls expectantly on her back.

"Except you!" coos Sam, rubbing her belly. "What a good girl. Yes. You don't have to be on your toes at all."

"You know...with the ground floor of this place...I was thinking I'd turn it into some kind of store," puts in Wanda. "Maybe an antiquities dealer, so I could use it as cover for getting dangerous magic artifacts off the market. But maybe, instead, I should open a bar? Use it to keep an ear on the gossip."

"Could open a bookstore with a coffee shop inside," says Darcy. "That way, you get all the hot goss, can use themed book displays to steer the patrons onto specific topics, and you can still have cool old artifacts sitting around on the shelves. Just as part of the aesthetic."

"That -- is not a bad idea," says Wanda slowly. "Darcy, if you ever want to quit science and get hired as a business manager? Let me know."

Chapter Text

It starts with a text, from a friendly neighborhood number:

saw you lurking on a roof the other night, you guys still in nyc?

got an alien thing down in the LES

could probably use a moon guy

☽

"No idea what these are, sorry!" calls Marc, crescent-darting the chitinous hide of a scuttling, guitar-sized alien before it can enter the Roll With It skating rink. "I've been off-planet a couple times but I'm not any kind of expert!"

"Fair enough!" says Spider-Man, webbing another in place before it can knock over a hot dog cart. "Who among us hasn't been off-planet once or twice at this point?"

Devil Dinosaur, the hefty red T-rex, raises his head from the task of stomping aliens and looks from Moon Knight and Scarlet Scarab, to Spider-Man, to Moon Girl (currently jetting overhead in her homemade flight suit). He lets out a forlorn "Uruu?" and points a claw at himself.

"We'll get you a trip at some point, D!" Moon Girl assures him. "Uh, can somebody hold one of those up for me? A pre-stomped one?"

Layla spears a creature on one of her wing-swords, and moves to hold it up. Spider-Man is faster: he snags one on the end of a line of webbing, and hangs it from a lamppost. Which is probably a nicer sight anyway.

Moon Girl hovers in front of the swinging alien, and speaks into a device that probably used to be an ordinary smartphone. "Okay, yeah, eight legs. Shells are this mottled blue and green. Faces have...kind of a nozzle thing going on?"

She listens intently to a voice on the other end.

Then looks up with a grin. "Good news! They're not endangered!"

"Oh, well, if they're not endangered," deadpans Steven. (Inside their head only. They've admitted to Spider-Man that all three Moon Knights share a body, but the kid heroes of the Lower East Side aren't caught up.) "Would've been much more careful if they were endangered."

"Bad news," continues Moon Girl, "they're like rabbits."

Layla looks in disbelief at the two halves of an alien she just sliced apart. Green goo oozes from its organs (?) to sizzle on the pavement. "How are these like rabbits?"

"They breed real fast, and they will destroy the ecology of Australia if you don't get rid of them!" She whips out a heavily-customized hairdryer, and fries the one in front of her. "Except in this analogy, all of Earth is Australia!"

"Oof." Layla goes for another alien...only to have Marc get to it first. There's only a few left in motion. "Well, at least it looks like we're getting close?"

Moon Girl blows the steam off the muzzle of her souped-up hairdryer, listens to her contact for a moment, then says, "Uh...so there's a little more bad news...sounds like they might have laid eggs. Any of you know where to find soliciumfrankolithicmixyalebidiumrixydixydoxydexydroxide?"

Marc and Layla look hopelessly at each other. Then at Devil, who shrugs: "Rrugh."

"I do!" says Spidey, landing sideways on the rooftop Roll With It logo. "Uh. Why?"

The kid hovers in front of him, and holds up her not-a-phone. "My totally normal human Earth friend says we can use it to synthesize a compound that disrupts any new nests from hatching."

"Well, they have some in the Museum of Extraterrestrial History," says Spider-Man. "It's used in some of the devices in the Kree exhibit. But I don't think the curators will let us just...take it." He sighs. "Especially if any of them are Daily Bugle listeners."

Moon Girl winces. "Oof. Online haters. I know how that goes."

Layla jumps up to the rooftop, Marc right behind her, and stows her sword-wings with a grin. "Well, then, I have good news," she says. "Because what I'm hearing is...you need someone who can help you break into a museum."

Chapter Text

"All right, man, we're here," says Scott, when Luis opens the door of the X-Con offices to let him and Hope in. "What happened that you had to tell us in person?"

"And, please," cuts in Hope -- "the short version!"

Luis opens his mouth...

☽

Okay so it started when me and Kurt were at the bank? For purposes of reviewing the bank security system, which we set up for them some years ago? And we were not even inside any of the system yet, we were just in the lobby, next to some guys who were there for regular day-to-day small-business-loan reasons.

I promise I was not trying to eavesdrop, you know I would never, but the one guy was all "Why you gotta know the exact provenance of this money, it was acquired all around the world so I don't got a whole lotta consistent paperwork, but I swear it's legit, and if you give me a loan I'll be good for it, bro!"

He was French, although for your listening pleasure I will not try to imitate the French accent, and it sounded like he was starting a restaurant. Probably a French restaurant? Or is that racist? Maybe that's racist.

So the security chief finally comes out to see us, while I was all distracted thinking the French guy is somehow going to be a problem, like maybe he got the money through drug dealing or the mafia or whatever. Do they have the mafia in France? Probably, right?

And then, wham -- the actual problem comes through the front door, in the form of a bunch of dudes with guns and ski masks!

So the dudes in masks are all "Yo, everybody down on the ground!"

And me and Kurt are thinking this is a test, right? Like they want to give us a demo of the security system in action? But the security chief is all "naw, bros, this was not any kind of a plan, they are straight-up robbing us for real."

Well, everyone is doing their best with getting on the ground and all. But there's this old lady who has bad knees, so she can't go so fast, and this other guy has a couple of kids who start crying, and the robbers are not being as patient with all this as they probably could be, right? And I'm thinking, hey, somebody has got to do something.

So I stand back up, and I go, "Listen, hermanos, I don't think you wanna mess with me, you know? My best friend, he's like, an Avenger."

(And Kurt goes "oh, he is best friend now?" and I gotta be all "you know I love you, bro, but Scott is my best superhero friend.")

So of course they're all "Yeah? Which one?"

And I go "you are in so much trouble, 'cause he's frickin' Ant-Man!"

And, man, they put no respect on your name.

I tell them all about how you defeated a quantum ghost assassin, and how you went up against Iron Man over the Sokovia Accords, and then you were at the Battle of Earth and personally threw the Hulk at Thanos! And do they really want to mess with that?

They're just laughing and waving those guns and telling me to get back down, or else.

So I'm all "And I didn't even tell you about his girlfriend! She's the Wasp, and she has all the same powers plus she's way meaner, and did I mention she flies? They had a whole fight in the Quantum Realm, and they took out a super badass dude called Kang the Conqueror who is like, Thanos-level awful! And they didn't even need the other Avengers for backup! You sure you wanna mess with that?"

And that's when, one of the folks who's already on the ground?

He gets up off the ground.

He was with the French guy. But he's not the French guy, he's another guy. I mean, you could be a brown guy and also be a French guy? But judging by the accent in which he is about to speak, this one is a Latino guy.

Also, he's dressed real ordinary. Maybe a little too ordinary, you know what I'm saying? Like he's trying on purpose not to get noticed? I'm thinking SWORD agent, I'm thinking undercover cop, I'm thinking one of those green alien dudes -- but when they're shapeshifted, so they're not green -- I mean, he would not be so forgettable if he was green right then! Obviously.

Well, our bros point a bunch of guns at not-green guy. And not-green guy puts his hands up, so they can see he ain't holdin' no weapons or nothing.

And he's all, "Really, dudes, you come in here with guns? In this here day and age? We got guys with super-science, we got guys with magic healing, we got guys running around who are literal wizards, and you think you're gonna do a whole-ass robbery with just firearms?"

So one of the mask guys -- think he mighta been the top mask guy -- is all "Bro, you are not gonna be so cocky when we fire your arms."

And the boring guy takes a couple steps -- not getting closer to them, he's actually kinda circling around, to a place where if they do start shooting, there's not so many people behind him who could get shot? It was real subtle-like, I don't even know if the mask guys noticed? But I noticed.

And he goes, "Or hey, what if, we just end this right now, so nobody has to get hurt and stuff?"

And the head mask guy goes, "What is this, a bit? You gonna tell us to turn ourselves in, maybe the cops will go easy on us? Real funny guy?"

Boring guy is all, "Man, no nací ayer, I'm not gonna tell anyone to talk to cops. I'm saying, you put the guns down and sneak outta here, and we all pretend like this never even happened, no harm no foul, you get me?"

Head mask guy is all, "Okay but why would we put down the guns, when right now we have the guns, and you don't have guns?"

Boring guy is all, "Can't say I didn't warn you."

Now, I swear to you he does not actually move -- but one of the not-in-charge mask guys must be pretty jumpy, like maybe this is his first robbery? They're not supposed to start firing the guns, and none of the others fire any guns, but that guy fires his gun. Clips our guy in the shoulder -- nothing that's gonna kill him, but he kinda staggers from the impact, and I'm thinking he's gonna have a hell of a time using that arm after this --

And then my eyes just about fall outta my head, because our guy starts transforming! I'm talking full-on, magical girl, floaty ribbons and glowy eyes and sparkles, transformation sequence here!

Turns out this guy's a Moon Knight!

A couple years ago, basically nobody had heard of the Moon Knights, but I think now we kinda all know about the Moon Knights, you know? This is even the one who puts the magic suit in super swanky jet-and-silver armor mode. The coolest one!

Well, this time the mask guys open fire without waiting at all.

And now Moon Knight just takes it. I mean, he runs right at them, bullets are going right into him, BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM, and it doesn't even slow him down, man!

And he yells, "I warned you about the magic healing, hermanos!"

Slams into the closest guy, knee goes right into his gut, boom, he's down! Moon Knight has the first gun! Doesn't fire it at anyone, just pulls this shiny moon blade off his gauntlet and goes slice slice slice! and then he drops this little pile of gun pieces on the floor!

So by now the rest of our robber wannabes are starting to run outta bullets anyway, and the first one whose gun starts going click click click drops the whole thing and makes a break for the door. But now we can all hear there's sirens outside, so you know he's not gonna get super far, and then Moon Knight whips out a couple more moon blades and aims those suckers right at the hamstrings, and now he's really not gonna get far.

And while he's mopping up the rest of the trouble, Moon Knight happens to sidle past us, which is when I take the opportunity to go, "Hey man, you totally saved our bacon there, and probably also our contract, thank you thank you thank you! If you ever have a place that needs a security system, it is on the house!"

(Kurt thinks he's gotta add "Even if is not a house!" and I gotta tell him, no dummy, it's an expression.)

So under his breath Moon Knight says to us, "Yeah, listen, hermano, if you did the security around here, can you get me off the records? Because, like, I'm tryna keep up a whole secret-identity thing, and my best lady friend is gonna be real mad if I blow it by showing up on a bunch of cameras, which I can tell from your air of quality and professionalism must have a fine-ass data backup arrangement."

So I'm like, bro? Consider it done.

☽

When Luis has been quiet for more than three seconds in a row, Hope decides he's probably done. "And...you want us to help get the Moon Knight off the cameras?"

Luis blinks. "What? No no no, I did that in like five minutes! I wanted you two to come over because he personally asked to see you in person."

A movement behind him makes the visitors both startle -- and sure enough, there's a new guy standing up at the other end of the office. Somehow he managed to melt into the shadows, in spite of the full-length cape so dazzling it has to be magic: no normal white fabric could stay that clean.

He tips back his hood (though the mask stays on), looks them in the eye...

...and says, in Luis's exact cadence, "Hi, yeah, you have got to tell me what even is your deal with fighting a Kang, because that guy is not even supposed to be in this universe, yo."

Hope's and Scott's jaws hit the floor.

Moon Knight lets them suffer for a moment before adding, "Relax, I'm fucking with you."

"OH thank all the gods in this frickin' multiverse," exclaims Scott, while Hope breathes a sigh of relief so deep it nearly doubles her over.

"But seriously," says Moon Knight, while Luis looks between them in polite confusion. "This is a big deal. And I'm not just saying that as a pun on your whole...shrinking thing. Tell me what happened with Kang."

Chapter Text

The Quantum Realm questions go beyond "things Hope can answer off the top of her head" pretty quickly.

(Scott can't answer any of them off the top of his head. He remembers the "what" about their quantum adventure, but still isn't so hot on the "how" or "why".)

They end up flying back to the Pym residence -- literally, Dark Mode Moon Knight flies, with Ant-Man and the Wasp riding in his magic hood -- to get some computers on this. Also, to loop in Hank and Janet.

They're standing around a work bench in Hank's lab, deep in a conversation about the implications of quantum time travel, when the door opens and Cassie comes bounding in.

"Hi Dad, hi everyone," she says, going to a cabinet without giving their superhero visitor a second look. "We're gonna borrow the toolbot for a bit."

"We?" echoes Scott, looking at the doorway behind her. Two other teens are standing there: a tall white boy with fluffy hair holding an expensive-looking laptop, and a short tan-skinned girl carrying a backpack. Both are looking around the lab in wonder. "Cassie, why don't you introduce your friends?"

Cassie's voice echoes, as she answers with half her upper body in the cabinet. "That's Kamala and Bruno."

Kamala's attention turns to the group around the work station...and she freezes in place, eyes wide.

"Don't be scared, dear," says Janet. In a soft soothing voice, which makes Scott think she's seriously underestimating the short girl's age. "That's just Moon Knight. He's an Avenger."

"He's not exactly an Avenger," mutters Scott. Not to discredit the Moon Knights, but...him and Hope, and arguably even Janet and Hank, are more officially Avengers than those guys!

"Yeah, no, I know," squeaks Kamala. "I just, uh. Didn't expect him. What are you doing on the West Coast?"

"Needed a consult on a quantum thing," says Moon Knight stiffly. For the first time, Scott notices that he's just as tense as Kamala is. "What are you doin' on the West Coast?"

"Visiting my friend!" says Kamala. "Bruno! Bruno's my friend."

The tall teen waves. Nobody has asked about him yet, so he just volunteers, "I'm here for school."

"We're working on a project together," adds Cassie, emerging from her search with something metallic and complicated. "We'll be in my room."

"Leave the door open," says Scott automatically. Then, as they disappear into the hall, he remembers to call after them, "And nothing that'll get you in trouble with the police!"

Three sets of teenage footsteps bound out of earshot.

The silence hangs long enough to get awkward before Moon Knight says, "The police, huh."

"She takes after her father," deadpans Hope.

"...In that she uses her dubiously-legal skills for the side of good," fills in Scott in a hurry. "So, those other kids -- who are they, really? Some of those costumed teenagers with irresponsible parents who keep popping up in New York? Are we hosting Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man?"

"No comment," says Moon Knight.

Great. Those are definitely Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man.

"As far as I know, though -- they're good, reliable kids. If your daughter's startin' her own super-team, she could do worse."

"Nnnnnope!" exclaims Scott. To Hank, Janet, and Hope, he adds, "I forgive you for setting her up with an emergency super-suit behind my back, okay, but promise me you'll stand by me on this one -- Cassie is not allowed to join any superhero teams until she's at least twenty-one!"

Chapter Text

"What's that in the background?" asks Layla on the other end of the video call. "Are you...on a hayride?"

Steven holds up the phone and pans it around, so Layla can see the whole scene. "Wagon!"

It's late afternoon in California, which they just left. And, because they took a shortcut through the Mirror Dimension across the International Date Line, it's already bright and early tomorrow in this part of China. Idyllic rural hills spread out around them; the rustic wooden wagon trundles through the grass; a thick bamboo forest is coming up ahead.

Shang-Chi and Katy, in the bed of the wagon with Steven, wave as the camera view passes over them. 

"Used to be a car, would you believe it?" adds Steven. "But it seems the people of Ta Lo started to get miffed about motor vehicles coming in and tearing up their lovely scenery. So now Wanda turns it into a setting-appropriate vehicle to visit."

Wanda, in the front seat, does her own little wave. Without taking her eyes off the lack-of-road, of course, since she's using magic to steer. And run the wheels. And...whatever else a normal car does with engineering. Shock absorption, maybe?

(Yes, Steven can feel Jake being exasperated that he doesn't know car stuff. But, come on, that's what he's got a Jake for!)

"Wait, what?" asks Layla, on the other end of the call. "Are you going to Ta Lo? The mystical ancient otherworldly realm where dragons roam the skies? That Ta Lo?"

"Yeah! That's why we're calling," says Steven brightly. "To let you know our trip is taking a detour, and if we don't answer our texts for a bit, it's not because we're dead or kidnapped! Just off in a dimension without cell service."

They're lucky Layla is doing a thing on the East Coast today. If she was back in London, she'd probably be asleep by now. As-is, she answered the call while eating takeout for dinner.

"...Is there room in that wagon for one more?"

Steven blinks, surprised. Should they have invited Layla? "Uh...not sure, hold on."

Distance isn't an issue. Hotel rooms have full-length mirrors; Wanda can open a new Mirror Dimension path to the one they used to get here. (It's also riding in the back of the wagon.) Can't take a mirror to Ta Lo directly -- you've got to use a magic gate, in a protected magic forest -- but they keep the vehicle parked within a short ride of the forest.

Cradling the phone against his chest, Steven catches Shang-Chi's eye. "Would it be all right if we brought Layla?"

Shang-Chi winces. "Probably not. Can you put her on speaker?"

At the outer edge of the thick bamboo, Wanda lets the wagon roll to a stop, then turns in her seat and levitates the phone out of Steven's hand. Steven and Shang-Chi both scoot around to sit against the front edge of the wagon bed, so Wanda can make the phone hover with a nice wide shot of all three.

"Hey again, Layla," says Shang-Chi. "Listen, if it was just up to me...I'd invite you. I know you'd be cool and respectful and everything. But I'm pushing my luck just bringing one new visitor in." He throws an awkward look at Steven. "I mean, three visitors. Four visitors? But kind of one visitor."

"One new body," offers Steven. "One new pair of feet."

"Yeah. That."

Katy leans companionably against Shang-Chi's shoulder to get herself in-frame. "Shang's aunt gave him the worst lecture. Pretty sure he would've rather fought another dragon."

"They only tolerate me because I'm doing so well with a therapist there," puts in Wanda. "And, well. Supporting my mental health is important for the fate of the multiverse. Unfortunately."

"And they put up with me 'cause I killed their ancient evil," adds Katy. "I'm like an honorary villager now."

Between her and Steven, Shang-Chi goes tense. So maybe there's something else going on? But Steven doesn't ask, and Katy doesn't notice, while Layla moves on to the obvious question: "All of that makes sense, yeah. So why are you bringing Steven?"

Right -- this all came together so fast, Layla isn't caught up on the Moon Knights' discovery from yesterday. Ant-Man and the Wasp remember facing off against a Variant of the multiversal conqueror Kang. Even though, after a different Kang Variant hijacked and overwrote their entire timeline, Layla and the Knights repaired it in a way that was supposed to block all future Kangs from getting in.

"The Pyms' theory is, our protection might have only worked on 'normal' reality, not adjacent dimensions," explains Steven. "I know Wade seemed awfully confident that we wouldn't meet any more Kangs in our personal future...but we felt the people of Ta Lo deserved a warning. Just in case."

"Wade's logic sounds kinda dodgy, anyway," adds Katy.

Steven sighs. "I know his fictional metaphors can be a bit confusing, but--"

"If the idea is that the Quantum Realm fight was 'filmed before the actor got arrested', what happens if they recast the role? Or what if we're in the cosmic equivalent of a tie-in novel?"

(It suddenly hits Steven that, oh right, Katy and Shang-Chi spent some time monitoring the Regent's Park Hex. Along with Wade. By now, they might have got as much exposure to his weirdness as the Moon Knights have.)

Now Wanda looks worried too. (She hasn't met Wade much, she just naturally thinks in sitcom.) "Or a reboot, where all the actors are different. Or an overseas remake."

"Or fanfiction," adds Katy ominously.

"Basically, there's too many ways this could blow up," finishes Shang-Chi. "So we're checking in on Ta Lo. It's important enough that I'm bringing in one single new body, so someone can explain, from firsthand experience, how much Kangs are a universe-level threat. And if Aunt Nan yells at me about that, I'll deal."

On the phone screen, Layla stirs her takeout noodles with a hotel fork. "That all makes sense, yeah. Of course you have to go. Love you, chéri. Text me when you get back."

In Steven's head, Marc gives him a firm shove.

"...Could you take Layla in our place?" asks Steven.

Katy, Shang-Chi, and Wanda exchange looks. Layla holds her breath.

"She's the one other person from this universe who has firsthand experience with the Kang timeline," adds Steven. He is acutely aware that he's sabotaging his chances of riding a dragon, yes! But if he's being completely honest -- "Her memory's usually more reliable than ours, too. If you're only going to bring one of us...maybe it ought to be her."

(The very best person would be Dr. Yehya Badr, the temporary Other Fist of Khonshu, who personally handled the timeline-protecting magic. But Badr didn't return afterward like the rest of them, he ascended to another plane of existence. Might technically be dead? Definitely unavailable.)

"No reason it couldn't be," says Shang-Chi slowly. "If you're not in the middle of anything? And if, Wanda, you can get her here? And send Mr. Knight somewhere else, so he's not just left sitting alone in the middle of nowhere." Pause. "Not alone alone, but. You know."

☽

It only takes a bit of organizing to switch things up.

Layla packs her food into the mini-fridge, and throws a few things in her travel bag. Katy takes point with the phone, so she can share tips about what to pack. Wanda levitates the big mirror so it's propped upright against the wagon, and Steven gives directions to the place he was originally supposed to spend the day: visiting Duchamp, at his cute new little flat in San Francisco.

It's not like using portals. The glass still just reflects the scene around them. But when Steven steps cautiously forward, it ripples like water and lets him through. 

...then ripples again as he leaps backward, arm flung in front of his face, yelping "NOPE nope sorry never mind so sorry close it please!"

Shang-Chi is at his side in an instant, already in a battle stance. "Threat status?"

Steven buries his face in his hands with a mortified groan. Dying of embarrassment. Acute risk of teasing for the foreseeable future...

"It's closed," reports Wanda. "Did I -- did I get the place wrong?"

Katy slouches on her elbows over the edge of the wagon, and, as usual, nails the truth: "Interrupted something, huh."

"Uh-huh," moans Steven, cheeks burning. "Forgot our friend had started dating."

Chapter Text

"Hey, since you work for a fertility goddess -- do you think she could bless the pandas into banging before they go extinct?"

Layla jumps. Then relaxes, when she sees who's standing next to her, his English standing out at the Shenzhen Safari Park. "Hi, Wade."

"Hi, Layla," says Wade brightly. He's not in the Deadpool costume, just in casual clothes for a hot summer day, complete with a baseball cap that has a cheap fake ponytail hanging down the back. "I don't mean these pandas, obviously. I mean the big ones with the chronic shyness problem."

"I don't know if they fall under Taweret's jurisdiction." Layla turns back to the red panda exhibit. On the far side of the glass, one of the furry little critters scampers up a tree. It's adorable. "Are you here for a mission? Or just relaxing?"

"I just had the sudden overwhelming need to see an elephant," says Wade. "Didn't bring Vanessa or X-23 or anyone, though, so this probably won't pass the Bechdel test, sorry. How about you?"

It's the kind of speech that, a few years ago, would've made Layla groan and look for an excuse to leave. Now, she just takes a minute to parse out the meaningful bits, then says, "Mission was yesterday. I'm rewarding myself with fun animals. Do you want to walk over to the elephant enclosure together?"

Wade does!

As they're walking between a set of tree-lined open-air enclosures, Layla interrupts Wade's chatter (an ongoing effort to list "all the X-Men named after animals") to say, "I've been meaning to tell you something."

"Uh-huh?"

Layla takes a breath. "Your whole...prophecy thing. I used to not believe in it? And I was pretty rude and impatient with you about it -- especially during the Hex situation -- even when you said things that turned out to be completely true. And even helpful. So. Sorry about that."

"Aww! You're so sweet, thank you," coos Wade. "Gotta say, though, my incredible psychic gifts don't mean I'm always right. I have straight-up gotten people horribly killed because I expected them to have powers from a different continuity, or I misinterpreted where some foreshadowing was going, or I panicked and made stuff up. So it's totally fine not to believe me about everything, and I promise to only play the ableism card sometimes."

Again, Layla gives herself a moment to process that. She has a much easier time tracking Wade's use of movie-and-comic-book tropes these days, now that she spends a lot more time talking with Wanda. "I'll keep it in mind."

They finally arrive at the elephant enclosure. Layla can see three of them from this end, all dealing with the heat by lounging in a long shallow pool.

"So," she adds, "if I asked you to predict something specific, you might come up with the wrong answer?"

"Yeah, maybe." Wade leans on the fence, gazing happily at the elephants. "Especially if that part of the script hasn't been drafted yet."

"Well, we've been talking to a wedding planner about...special accommodations."

It had started with the kind Layla expected, like food allergies and dietary restrictions. Then it moved on to the kind of concerns they hired an Asgardian for.

"One of the things she wanted to know was: do we have any sworn archnemeses who might decide to attack the ceremony? We didn't think so, but it seems like the kind of thing you'd have insight on."

"Ooh. Yeah. Good call," says Wade. "That part is not drafted yet, but oof, 'bad guy attacks the heroes during their wedding' is a huge trope. And no wonder, right? Everything about it is stressful already, it's just on-theme for a full-on supervillain fight to break out! And if the good guys lose, the irony makes it extra tragic, that this horrible thing happened on what was supposed to be the happiest day of your--"

"I'm not sure this is helping!" yelps Layla.

"I'm going somewhere with this! I swear."

Layla sighs. She did just resolve to trust Wade more. Of course now the universe is testing her. "Okay. Go ahead."

"So the other side of that coin is, it's extra satisfying if...okay, picture this. I mean, not just you, Layla, the readers should all picture this. Ready?"

Does Wade actually hear reactions from the metaphorical "readers"? Layla isn't sure. She nods on her own behalf, at least.

"Okay. There's a villain with a grudge against Moon Knight. And maybe the Scarlet Scarab, but let's face it, Moon Knight has the biggest rogues' gallery."

True...

"This rogue has spent years tracking Moon Knight down...maybe he's got a crew, and they have magic powers or cursed weapons or something, so it's not totally unreasonable that they could beat a couple Avatars..."

Worryingly plausible...

"...and this is it. The big moment. He bursts into the room! There's Marc and the gang, standing at an altar!

But! They're not alone. The villain realizes there's a whole crowd surrounding our heroes.

One by one, the guests start to turn around...

One by one, they start powering up. Turning green, raising hammers, glowing funky colors, all that good stuff.

Fix your mind...on the slowly-dawning horror on this poor guy's face...as it sinks in that he just picked a fight with, like, fifty Avengers at once."

A smile spreads across Layla's face as she lingers on that mental image. It's always satisfying to remember just how many friends have their back.

"There!" says Wade triumphantly. "Now, if any of that happens, it won't be a big exciting surprise! It'll just be an anticlimactic rehash of a scenario they already thought about. Total hack move, which is completely beneath the skill of an amazing writer whose plot twists are immaculate and whose breath is always daisy-fresh."

Great. This is starting to sound less like prophetic ability, and more like impromptu song of praise to one weirdo's dubiously-real personal deity. "You really think that'll work?"

"No idea," says Wade without a moment's hesitation. "But it sounds pretty good, huh?"

"...I'll take it."

"I mean, there's probably going to be some kind of twist interruption," adds Wade blithely. "Just to keep the dramatic interest up, you know? But it doesn't have to be a villain! It could be the exciting surprise reveal of somebody nice!"

Layla sighs. "After all this? It better be."

Inside her head, meanwhile, she gives the power of Taweret a tug. Not enough to summon her armor, just enough to make a connection. Hey, Taweret? If I go see the panda exhibit, could you bless them into being a little more fertile?

A divine giggle echoes in the back of her head. Oh, gosh, never tried that before! But there's a first time for everything, right? Head on over, why don't we -- and I'll give it my best go.

Chapter Text

"Barkeep!" calls Jen, going green for just long enough to flag the lady down. "Two Hulk Smashes, please! One for me, one for my friend."

"You get royalties on those?" asks Jake. "Or does your cousin? Seems like you oughta."

"We talked about it," admits Jen. "Decided that, on balance, we want more people associating Bruce's deal with 'a fun night out with their friends', and don't want to hold that back."

"Ooh. Smart."

They raise their matching oversize glasses of neon-green cocktails. "To fun nights out with friends?" suggests Jen.

"Salud," agrees Jake, clinking them together. "Still gonna be that, right? Friends."

"Don't see why not," says Jen. "Unless your partners are putting in new rules about that too...?"

Jake gives her a wry smirk. "Anyone who tried to stop me from havin' friends, I wouldn't marry 'em in the first place."

They down matching gulps in companionable silence.

"I, uh. I don't actually know if we're gonna change the hookup rules," adds Jake quietly. "Steven might not care. Never picked up any kind of jealousy from him -- over anyone. He confessed one time that if Layla was into someone else too, he wouldn't mind."

"Oh, really...?" Jen throws a sidelong glance at the readers. "Anyone out there with a Layla rarepair, get ready! Your ship might be sailing."

"Really. But Marc would sure as hell mind. When he falls for someone...he's all in. Not sure he coulda handled Layla gettin' with Steven if Steven wasn't, y'know, already in Marc's body. And if those two weren't always one step away from pullin' him into a threesome."

"Ahh." To you, Jen whispers, "Sorry, no new ships after all." And back to Jake: "So...these days he's all in on you, huh."

It's hard to be sure, between the tan skin and the low light, but she's pretty sure Jake blushes. "Might be."

"That's sweet, you know? I'm really happy for you," says Jen. "And if it means me and Matt are back to just having twosomes...I'm sure we'll survive."

That gets a roguish grin from Jake. "Yeah, you will. So, uh, guess I gotta ask Murdock this separately, but -- would it be weird to send you a wedding invite? Or would it be mean if we left you out?"

Whoo boy. Jen turns back to you. "If you watched my show, you might remember that I have some rough luck with weddings," she explains. "And if you didn't watch it...okay, I was about to blame you for us not getting a Season 2, but that might have been inevitable from the reviews. Should've spent less time on revenge porn, more on shirtless Hugh Jackman."

And, to Jake again:

"I guess that depends on a couple things. First: Are you already all set for bridesmaids? Or, you know, the bridal party, groom-dal parties in general?"

"Not sure we're having any," admits Jake. "Gonna ask our one best personal friend to do something -- hold the rings, maybe? But between him, all four of us, one inner child, and maybe five different parental figures...that's two alive bio-parents, two patron deities, an' one sitcom mom...I dunno if there's gonna be space for anyone else."

"Totally fair," says Jen. "Okay, next: Do you care if I come as She-Hulk or not?"

"Uh. Up to you? We're mostly invitin' other superhero types, so I don't think it'll get much attention if you wanna. But whatever makes you comfortable."

"Cool. Finally: are there any of my personal nemeses on the guest list?"

Jake blinks. "Well, we're sure not inviting those sexist pendejos from the internet. You got any others?"

Jen frowns. "I guess I was mostly thinking of Titania. And we're really more in frenemies territory by now."

"We weren't gonna invite Titania either way," Jake assures her. "We barely know the lady."

A pause.

"Although, uh...the way our life is going...by the time we set a date, we mighta had a team-up with her and gotten to be besties. So it's a good thing you brought it up."

Chapter Text

Steven is fronting as they creep down the spiral of wide stone steps, because of course he has to nerd out over the beautiful ancient historic castle. And fret over how much damage a battle with a demon could do to a crumbling under-preserved historic castle.

The noises from outside -- a range of English country critters, the occasional lorry rumbling down the road nearby -- fade into silence as they descend...

...and they all freeze at a new sound from below. A distinct scrape of stone against stone.

Marc switches to the front. "Khonshu?" he whispers, drawing a crescent dart as he takes the next step. "Is our demon buddy already waking up?"

"Told you we shoulda brought allies," scolds Jake in the back of his head.

Marc bristles. "We don't need to ask for help with every two-bit eldritch thug that turns up in our own back yard--"

"That is not the demon," says Khonshu, coming into view as they round a curve. (He's perched on a fixture that probably used to hold a torch. Now it barely holds his non-existent weight.) "I cannot be sure whether they are its friends, or ours."

Marc takes a few more steps...sees a dank underground crypt spread out below them...and two human-looking figures are already standing by the tomb they were heading for. One, clearly with super-strength, is singlehandedly moving the stone slab off the top. (Dark skin, shaved head, black leather clothes...sunglasses? Seriously? Is he blind, or does he have super-sight?)

Another figure stands by with a flashlight. (Light skin, neat beard, drab clothes, enough bags over his shoulders that he's probably carrying the rest of their gear too.)

"Hey!" yells Marc. Flashlight Guy jumps as his voice echoes around the chamber, then aims the beam at him with shaky hands. "You here to kill that thing? Or are you friends?"

Strong Guy isn't startled at all. He rests the slab on the ground without even cracking it, steps forward to make himself a human shield for both the tomb and Flashlight Guy, and casually reaches over his shoulder to draw a sword.

Calm and barely-interested, like he's asking if there's supposed to be rain this afternoon, he says, "If we said we were here to kill it?"

It is a cool sword. Long blade, slightly curved, great balance. So well-polished they can see it gleam even in the faint light -- but not because it's never been used, if the man's expert stance is anything to go by.

That said...it's not a magic sword. No blessings, no possession, absolutely nothing that would empower it to kill this kind of demon.

Flatly unimpressed, Marc says, "I'd say you're in over your heads."

Under his breath, Blade Guy says, "I'll hold him off. Just finish it."

Then he lunges.

He is so goddamn fast. Marc barely blocks -- and the silver blade bites all the way through Khonshu's ceremonial gauntlet, going so deep he feels it scrape the bones in his forearm.

The fight only gets worse from there. Blade Guy shrugs off everything Marc throws at him. Jumps high enough that Marc can't fly anywhere in the low-ceilinged crypt to get out of his reach. Keeps getting in cuts and slices, almost as fast as the suit can heal them--

In the middle of being kicked past Khonshu, Marc hisses, "¿Qué diablos es, paloma?"

"Daywalker," intones Khonshu -- which does not help, what does that even mean--

Marc's attention slips for one second -- and the next thing he knows, he's flat on the stone floor with a boot on his chestplate, and the cool sword going right through his neck.

The pain is transcendent.

Then it vanishes, as some important connection in his spine gets cut--

Then the armor heals him, and it's back--

(If he rolls aside to get the sword out, will the armor grow back a new head from his body, or--?)

(Somebody holding him in a psychic wrestling pin, not letting him move. "Absolutely the fuck not, loquito, play dead until Puntiagudo backs off--")

"Looks like he's still healing," says Blade Guy, at a louder volume. "You need to stab harder."

(How much harder can he stab, at this point--?)

"The head is all the way off!" Oh, that's Flashlight Guy. Still by the tomb, voice cracking with panic. Actually has a British accent, in contrast to his American-sounding friend. "I don't know what else you want me to--"

"Blade!" yells a new voice. Higher in pitch, but not afraid at all, just mad. "Get off of him!"

Blade Guy -- wait, is that just what he's called? -- stares flatly in the new person's direction. (Probably. The sunglasses make it hard to tell.) At last, with a horrible sucking wet noise, he pulls his sword free. "I hope you have a play here, Sprite."

The pain surges back as the Knights' neck heals again. Then, finally, it starts to ebb for good reasons.

A skinny girlish figure, in pale greenish clothes, stomps over. "The play is, we don't mess with Khonshu's humans, he doesn't mess with ours! Have a little tact, will you?"

Oh -- she's that Sprite. Used to be an immortal, from a group that aren't technically gods, but might as well be. Got transmuted into a human at some point. Apparently just in time, because the rest of her companions went MIA not long afterward.

"Khonshu," repeats Blade. (Wait, is he from Sprite's lost people, did she get one back?...except, no, Khonshu called that group the Forevers. A daywalker must be a different thing.) "You mean he's not guarding the demon down here."

Flashlight Guy comes tentatively up behind Sprite. Still holding the flashlight in one hand...and in the other, dragging a sword of his own.

Medieval broadsword. Jet black. Putting out the most rancid magical vibes they've ever felt off an inanimate object. Steven isn't even fronting, and he feels queasy.

"Oh, come on, Blade, he's covered in hieroglyphics," says Flashlight-And-Cursed-Sword Guy. Apparently none of his fears are enough to stop him from being indignant about historical iconography. "Even if you don't recognize the Moon Knights, can't you at least figure out from the Egyptian symbols that he's not working for a demon steeped in Anglo-Saxon folklore?"

All at once, the Knights recognize Professor Dane Whitman. Steven has literally watched some of his lectures. They met him in person once, in a museum, where he talked down a fight between Marc/Jake and...well, Sprite. (They got themselves mistaken for a hostile there, too. Awkward.)

Blade is unrepentant. "It's hardly relevant what he's wearing. We told him who we were here to kill. He got hostile."

"Did not," croaks Marc. Still on the ground. He doesn't want to make anyone jumpy enough to do more stabbing. "I got skeptical. Didn't think you had the gear for it. Didn't know either of you had a cursed sword."

Whitman gasps. Then looks flustered, and makes the world's most awkward effort to hide the sword behind his back.

"He's got a cursed sword, he's a vampire, you're a mummy," says Sprite blithely. "You're all Halloween-store rejects, you have no room to criticize each other for being too creepy."

"Half vampire," corrects Blade.

"Right. Totally different," says Sprite. "Go double-check that Dane's basement demon is dead, okay?"

"Please," adds Whitman.

Blade re-sheathes his sword and goes, while Sprite stands over Marc, touches her hands together in a ceremonial gesture, and says...something in a language none of them recognize.

Khonshu steps up on the other side of them. "She can no longer perceive me in her altered state. Inform her that her apology is accepted."

"Who'd she apologize to?" mutters Marc. "Us, or just you?"

"We are, of course, making our deepest apologies to you as well as your boss," says Whitman. "Aren't we, Sprite?" He raises his own voice to add, pointedly, "Aren't we, Blade?"

Reluctant agreements all around. 

Whitman offers Marc a hand. "Are you okay? If you're hurt at all...uh, I don't exactly have any healing, but I'm sure Sprite knows people..."

Khonshu puffs up with indignation. "Inform Dane Whitman that my healing armor is more than adequate to address the Daywalker's--"

"We're good." Marc is getting encouragement from Steven to accept the help up, but Jake is still suspicious about one thing: "What did she mean, your basement demon?"

☽

"You still don't want us looking into the Forevers, right?"

"That is correct, Steven Grant."

"I don't suppose you're ready to tell us why?"

"Important god reasons."

"Of course. Silly of me to even ask. Does that extend to Garrett Castle, and/or the cursed sword that apparently gets inherited along with it?"

"Those are both the construction of humans. Not even two thousand years old. The amount of trouble you can get yourself into by researching them is...limited. ...Probably."

☽

So of course Steven tries to stay up unreasonably late trying to research this stuff. The others finally shove the latest and heftiest book away, close his laptop, and drag him back into headspace.

"The lore seems pretty sure the Ebony Blade is doomed to corrupt the wielder," narrates Steven, pinned by Jake on their imaginary bed while Marc is out brushing their physical teeth. "Dane has to know about that already, yeah? He's a proper researcher. Got a teaching job and published papers and everything."

Mac rinses and spits. "You figured it out in like half an hour," he says out loud. "And you don't even have a personal motivation. He's gotta know."

"And besides, there's a friendly immortal looking out for him..."

"Not sure I'd call either of 'em friendly," mutters Jake.

"Well. Friendly to him," amends Steven. "They wouldn't be exploiting him, surely...? He's not going to suffer extra from this curse because of us not warning him."

Their shared body falls into their physical bed, and Marc lets himself shift into the headspace one, cuddling up next to Steven. Jake reaches over to let his fingers brush tenderly against Marc's neck.

"None of them were surprised when I mentioned the curse," points out Marc, tilting his head back. "Sprite was already at least a few thousand years old when whoever-it-was forged the thing. And Blade made sure to handle all the fighting that didn't need...demon magic, or whatever...behind it. I think they've got his back."

"It's not actually demon magic," says Steven -- and then he's off down a whole new tangent. Explaining how the Ebony Blade was created by a human sorcerer, some sources even claim it was Merlin, but that's probably from multiple legends getting conflated over the past thousand years. It's been lost, and presumed destroyed, for at least a century. Won't Layla be excited to hear it's been found again...?

Against all odds, Marc falls asleep like that. Steven keeps chattering in his ear, Jake's hand is resting gently on his throat, and somehow he can't imagine anything more comfortable than this.

Chapter Text

"Looks like we're not a moment too soon," thinks Steven to the others, as Moon Knight soars to the highest point of the little town. It's all hills upon hills, rows of charming colorful houses clustered along steeply-angled streets, until you get to this mansion...and there's a whole throng of locals facing off against the half-dozen sorcerers trying to quarantine the building.

"Y que lo digas," mutters Jake. (As usually happens in Spanish-speaking countries, he's been firmly in front since they landed at Matecaña International.)

It's deep into the night, and the big house doesn't have any lights on except a candle in a window, but there's a surprising amount of brilliance coming off the new magic fence around it. Jake lands on one of the Spanish-tiled rooftops on the lower side of the road, and searches for familiar faces behind the gold.

A familiar face sees them first. Part of the shield gets shorter, and when they look, there's Wong beckoning them through.

Jake takes a flying leap (getting just enough lift to make sure their cape does a cool flare), lands in a three-point stance beside the Sorcerer Supreme, and gives him a polite nod as they stand. "Hola, El Supremo. ¿Qué pasa?"

"Oh, thank all the Fates, you speak Spanish," says an exhausted Wong. "All our fluent sorcerers are handling a crisis in Peru. Will you please help us convince these people that the House of Shadows cannot be allowed to remain in their town?"

"That's the House of Shadows?" echoes Jake, shifting his brain awkwardly back into English. "The one that's not actually a house, it's a shapeshifting psychic monster doin' a house impression? The one Strange keeps banishing from this dimension? It's a fancy country villa with a rainbow paint job an' flowers all over?"

"Yes!"

"Keeps coming back, huh," thinks Marc bitterly. "Maybe it's just too stupid to realize nobody wants it around."

"Sounds like these people do want it, though," counters Steven. "Maybe it could just...stay here, this time?"

Out loud, Wong is still talking. "Strange will arrive shortly. Probably. We simply need to keep all innocent bystanders at a safe distance until then."

"Sure. I'll talk to 'em." Jake gestures at the shield like he's opening a sliding door. "Can you just..."

Once he's on the same side as the locals, he starts asking questions. What's with the full-blown midnight protest? Has the House turned over a new leaf, and started making friends with humans, instead of luring them inside its walls and slurping out their minds like a juice box?

...No. No, it hasn't.

But the town, already a scenic tourist attraction, has been booked solid ever since it appeared.

And they've decided the rush of extra income is worth a few brain-slurped foreigners (the count is already up to three) who never come back out! Still all-around safer than hosting a drug cartel. Or a call center full of cryptocurrency scammers. Or a rich American expat with clinical paranoia.

"Los turistas?" echoes Jake, looking back up at the House. What's the appeal? Sure, it's a pretty building, but...

He sways in place under the force of an urgent infodump. From...Ruby?

"Hey, Wong!" calls Jake through the shield. "What if we don't wait for Strange? What if we just...sic Disney's lawyers on this thing?"

The Sorcerer Supreme looks baffled. "For what purpose...?"

"You don't watch those movies? Never put 'em in your marathons with Madisynn?" Jake gestures to the House. "This thing's doin' an unauthorized cosplay of the house from Encanto."

Three stories. Walls in yellow, pink, and lavender. Flowering bushes piled all over the tiered rooftops. Friendly green door. Candle in the window. Yeah, that's a dead ringer for Casa Madrigal.

One of the shield-maintaining sorcerers, a dark-skinned woman with short fluffy hair, gapes at them. "Khonshu's Fist of Vengeance is a Disney guy?" Then, awkwardly looking for help from the next initiate over: "Khonshu's Fists are a Disney guy?...are Disney guys?..."

Oh. The reveal of "all three Moon Knights live in the same head" is just...common knowledge with the sorcerers now.

The Knights share a flash of angry suspicion -- did Wong tell everyone? Did Strange break his word? -- but no, that's not fair. They've been in so many multi-sorcerer fights by now, doing a range of floridly-plural things, and they weren't exactly briefing every single witness with their cover stories afterward. Co-workers gossip. Of course people were going to put it together.

With the most brisk calm he's ever faked, Jake announces, "Khonshu's Fists of Vengeance sometimes have to babysit an eight-year-old."

(He doesn't add "the sometimes-eight-year-old also lives in our head." That part, at least, is still need-to-know.)

☽

They do some negotiating. Jake helps the locals convey that they could settle for a permanent Casa Madrigal illusion, as long as the photo op is still good. Then helps the sorcerers convey that even the full might of Kamar-Taj doesn't want to tangle with Disney's lawyers either.

About half an hour into this, Strange portals onto the scenic hillside. Wielding the silver amulet that glows pink with the Spells of the Omnipotent Oshtur. Ready to go in.

"Actually," says Jake, when Strange asks if Moon Knight is coming this time. "Is it cool with everyone if we go in alone first?"

"Uhhh." Strange exchanges an unsure look with Wong. "To do...what?"

"Warn it that you folks are standing out here with the Necklace of the Amazing Whatshisface. Give it a chance to leave peacefully on its own."

"It would be completely irresponsible of us to allow that," says Wong firmly.

Another sorcerer, androgynous with a shaved head, murmurs a question to him in Sanskrit.

"The multiplicity of souls is no defense against such a foe!" scolds Wong. "It will simply give this creature more to eat!"

Strange keeps his attention on the Knights: "...Unless you guys have a plan for that."

Jake nods. "We do."

"Any chance you want to fill me and Wong in?"

No, not really. If the sorcerers knew the full plan, they'd probably call it crazy. Probably be right, too. "Mysterious moon things."

Wong sighs. "You may have half an hour. Then Strange is coming in to rescue you. If that is still possible."

Strange rolls his shoulders; the Cloak of Levitation hops off of them. "And if you're making the rest of us wait here...it's dangerous to go alone. Take this."

Chapter Text

The house-shaped demon from another dimension has shaken up its interior-design aesthetic once again.

The first time the Knights had to search this labyrinth to rescue someone trapped inside, the rooms were styled with generic suburban perfection. Like the slick professional photos you'd use to sell a home that's never been lived in.

The second time, it went full haunted-house. Dim lighting and rotting fixtures, decorated with bones and burned-out candles. (Until it just turned into a cave. The less said about that part, the better.)

Tonight, it's doing...some kind of Disney mashup.

Ruby doesn't front, but Jake turns a considered eye across the entrance hall (?) on her behalf. "Kind of like the Beauty and the Beast castle," she decides. "Or maybe the house in Cinderella? Not exactly like it, but the aesthetic."

Wide halls with high ceilings. Antique-looking furniture. Rugs with elaborate patterns, over tiled floors with different elaborate patterns.

Steven takes a private moment to be glad it's not trying to imitate the aesthetic of his favorite animated series. He's not sure he could take it if these walls started sprouting faces and singing to them.

"Something's off." Marc's voice comes out of their mouth, and then it's fully Marc walking down the stone hall. "But what? Everything looks normal -- for cartoon European royalty, anyway. There's not even any skulls lying around! How come it feels wrong?"

The Cloak of Levitation hops off their shoulders, swoops over to a set of plush armchairs with mahogany end tables, and gestures impatiently with the points of its collar.

Huh. One of the chairs has an arm on backwards. They should both curve outward from the seat, and instead, they both curve to the left. Like a bad copy-and-paste job.

The Cloak rises, flying far over their heads, where pillars on either side of the walls reach up to connect in big vaulted stone arches across the ceiling. Except where the Cloak directs their attention to an arch that comes down...and there's no pillar supporting the end. It just hangs in the air.

There's a painting on the wall where the golden frame melts right into a golden wall sconce. (The paint itself is also a melty blur, but maybe that's just Art.) There's a grandfather clock where the clock face is warped out-of-shape, and marked with random lines instead of numerals. There's--

"Okay, capita, ¡entendido!" This time it's Jake's voice coming out of Marc's mouth. "The parts are put together wrong and a bunch of it looks melted! Get back down here, before it manifests a backwards door between us and shuts it!"

The Cloak swishes back to them, and settles heavily over top of the crescent cape.

With a little extra focus, Marc de-manifests the cape, and pats the scarlet fabric with one hand.

Looking at the ceiling, he calls, "Hey! Are you trying to do Disney meets Escher, here? Or Salvador Dali? Either way...seems like a lot of effort just to play with your food!"

No response. At least, not any kind they can recognize.

They start walking down the pillared hall. It feels eerily like the labyrinth of the Duat, heavy wooden doors and arched stone passageways branching off on either side.

"Strange and his people keep banishing you back to the Dark Dimension," says Marc. "They're right outside. They'll do it again!"

They pass hanging tapestries with unreasonable numbers of folds.

"If Strange gets really fed up, he might call his girlfriend. You ever heard of Princess Clea? She'll blast you clear into whatever comes after the Dark Dimension."

Empty marble fireplaces with no vent or chimney.

"Even the dumbest predator would've gone hunting somewhere else by now."

Balcony railings with no balconies, just crammed right up against the walls.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

Still no obvious response...

As a group, they come to a decision, and de-manifest their mask.

"Whoa, hey, give us a second!" yelps Marc, as the Cloak jumps up and tries to drape itself over their head like a misshapen hoodie. "We're doing this so we can listen!"

It waits a long moment...then plops back onto their shoulders. Until that moment, none of them had realized how huffy a non-verbal piece of cloth could make itself.

In an effort to keep their weird companion in the loop, Steven leans forward, just enough for his voice to come out of their mouth next. "Well, I don't feel anything trying to lick our brain. So maybe the House of Shadows is listening too?"

Jake next: "Or maybe it just hasn't noticed us yet."

"Do you want something?" calls Ruby. "Maybe we can help! But you've gotta tell us what you want!"

At that exact moment, a door creaks open.

(Sure enough, it has the handle on the wrong side.)

After a bit of embarrassingly-blank staring, Marc says, "We're counting that as a response, right?"

The Cloak hugs their shoulders, and they put both hands on it as they walk through. Just in case.

☽

The next room is more like something out of a modern suburb (or at least, Ruby thinks, a sitcom).

Not the sterile furniture-shopping version, either. It has an empty mug on the coffee table, a few mismatched books piled on a shelf, a throw blanket tossed over the arm of the couch...even a pair of discarded gym shoes on the carpet.

Now that they know what to look for, the flaws are obvious. The "coffee table" has five legs. The "books" have gibberish on the spines. (Or maybe a foreign language? -- Marc is keenly aware that this is how he feels whenever Steven looks at hieroglyphics -- but no, Steven is 80% sure, that's a partly-melted imitation of our alphabet.) The "laces" are just a squiggly white line, running across both "shoes" like a drizzle of icing.

The Cloak tugs urgently at them. "We know, we see it," mutters Marc, obediently turning, before it decides to pick them up and move them...

He freezes.

There's a person. Sitting in an armchair, holding one of the fake books. Not a real-world person like them, or even a melty approximation of a person -- it's basically a featureless dark silhouette -- but it's the silhouette of someone engrossed in reading.

Marc starts toward them. If this is one of the people the House ate -- if there's anything left of them...!

The floor lurches out from under his feet -- the room spins -- the Cloak catches him a split-second before he cracks his head on a floor that used to be a wall --

He stumbles upright again, and they're in a bedroom, with a whole new aesthetic. Warm yellow walls with friendly blue support beams, cozy pink-and-orange furniture, bright multi-color stone floors.

"Now this looks like Casita," mutters Jake, a second before Ruby yelps, "That's Mirabel!"

There's another human shadow sleeping in the bed. It has real-world proportions, not the tiny waist and giant head of a cartoon...but it has the curly hair, the right kind of dress...

"The people who went missing were Disney tourists," remembers Steven. "What do we want to bet some of them were cosplayers?"

Marc starts toward this one too.

When the room flips on him again, he's expecting it. He skids, trips, but rights himself without needing the Cloak's help, and now --

"And now it's a bloody man-cave," sighs Steven.

It has all the usual problems. Leather couch with cushions that don't match. Band posters on the walls with incoherent captions. A liquor cabinet full of misshapen bottles, half of which blur into each other.

Another shadow, holding a beer-esque bottle and wearing what might be a baseball cap, is lounging on the couch and watching a huge flat-screen TV. Seems to be displaying some kind of sports match...though it's so vague and impressionist, even Marc and Jake can't tell what sport the field is supposed to be laid out for.

"Three rooms with people," says Marc out loud. "You gonna show us a fourth one? Or are these the three missing tourists?"

A pointed silence.

"You guys said it wasn't a house," complains Ruby, indignant enough that Marc finds himself folding their shared arms. "How come? It looks like it's trying to be a house."

...A long groan. "A house of shadows, even."

They take a few steps. Not towards the silhouetted figure this time, but towards the nearest wall. At a glance, it looks like exposed brick...but when they rest a hand on it, the texture is wrong, even through their gloves...and it's unnaturally warm, with the faintest steady vibration. Like the hide of some massive animal, alive and breathing.

"Hey, casita sombría," they say. "Did us humans give you that name, and now you're tryin' your best to live up to it...? Or is that what you are, and we've all been too dumb to ask if you just...wanted to be lived in?"

One of the framed band posters drops off the wall and clatters to the floor.

They go pick it up. Definitely not one of the images that was there a minute ago. They would've noticed an oversized painting of a shrug emoji.

"You don't know," they translate. (Probably rude to point out human hands should have one thumb each, right? It's trying to communicate, not asking for an art critique.) "Well. We're not always sure how we got to be the way we are, either. Do you like the house gig, however you came by it? Or would you rather try to learn something new?"

A soft paff of something much lighter falling off a shelf. They have to lean over the couch to see: a big red foam hand, holding up one finger, with "We're #1" more-or-less written across the front.

"First one. Okay. Then how does this sound for a deal...We're sort of in the market for a second home. Part-time. If you can safely host us without eating us. And you let the tourists go."

There goes the brain-licking feeling. A light, wet poke with an unknowable eldritch tongue.

They grip the Cloak tightly in both gloved fists, and fight the urge to re-manifest their mask. It's being much gentler than last time. If it's trying to show that it can avoid eating them, they have to let it finish the demo...

The floor twists...they topple into a new room...

☽

...oh, wow.

"This one's for us," they explain to the Cloak. "It's showing how it could make a comfortable home for us."

The overall shape is the cramped and pointy attic apartment where Steven first felt at home. But the old-fashioned blue-and-white kitchenette is from the first apartment Marc got with Layla, the first place he felt at home. The twin bed, with its carved headboard and colorful quilt, is the one they used to sleep in when visiting Abuela and Abuelo Spector -- the one where even little Jake felt safe. And there are a bunch of Ruby's posters, including a handmade fan shrine to Ms. Marvel, framed on the walls.

It's the most real-looking room so far. Nothing obviously melted, even. (...They won't look too closely at the text on the posters.)

"And windows! Is this the first time we've seen you make windows?" There are four in total, all with glittering late-night cityscapes behind the glass. "They're lovely. Full disclosure, we can tell they're fake -- but you've manifested on three different continents so far, yeah? You should be able to make it here for real."

All the views are of NYC. Any individual one of them could pass for a photo, although Jake knows the city well enough to tell you couldn't see all four from the same building. And it would be hard for anyone to miss that each window has its own separate moon.

The Cloak slips off their shoulders once more, and has a little flight around to each window. Then it starts tugging at the bottom of the last wooden frame, trying to get it open.

"Still not real, capita," the Knights warn. "Probably just leads to another room."

The Cloak flaps most of its fabric, impatiently beckoning them over.

And, well. That is the only scene with the correct real-world phase of the moon.

When the Knights join it, a set of blinds appear out of nowhere to snap shut, then flip open again. Now it's a view of the unfairly-scenic Salento hillside.

"Oh, huh. This one might be real."

The shield is still up, sorcerers on the inside, locals gathered behind it. Wong keeps pacing around talking to people. Strange is standing still, mouth a flat line and hands clasped around the amulet, watching something on the first level. Presumably the door.

Movement off to the side catches their eye. Khonshu is crouched on one of the House's lower rooftops, close enough to their wall that they can't fully see him from inside. Seems like he's watching the door too.

A sudden commotion ripples through the sorcerers -- Strange, Wong, and several others run forward -- and three stumbling figures come into view from below. All human. One is wearing what Ruby rates as a really good Mirabel dress. Another is carrying a giant foam finger. 

The Knights stroke the windowsill like they're petting a friendly cat. "Good job, casita."

☽

The Moon Knights just can't quit finding new ways to leave Stephen Strange baffled and confused, can they? "Are you seriously telling us the extradimensional people-eating demon just...agreed to spit everyone back out? Because you asked nicely?"

"Full disclosure, there were some threats too," says Dark Mode. "Involving your jewelry. And your girlfriend. If the House tried to play hardball, we were all set to threaten it with our fake mom. Good news is, it didn't come to that."

He looks up at the no-longer-copyright-infringing remains of the building. Or, wait, at something else in the same direction:

"Didn't have to threaten it with you either, jefe, don't worry."

Wong, with the keen task-focus and eye for detail that makes him such a good Sorcerer Supreme, is undistracted by the Khonshu routine. "Is there also bad news?"

Dark Mode shrugs. "Me, I call it more good news. We made it a deal. It promises not to eat anyone else! And it's moving to a real convenient location for Strange to make sure it keeps that up."