Chapter Text
Marc’s life had become… repetitive. He didn’t have a steady job, so he spent his days investigating whatever new organization was popping up. Once night fell, he’d patrol until dawn, sleep a couple of hours, and do it all over again. Maybe Steven or Jake would take the lead every now and then, but those were exceptions. Most of the time he was in control, because sitting still had never been an option
Now he was patrolling Manhattan. He wasn’t particularly motivated, but he couldn’t just leave the city hanging just because he was in a bad mood. He had chosen to keep an eye on a neighborhood where several people had gone missing over the last few weeks. Nothing he hadn't seen before, though those were precisely the cases you wanted to wrap up fast, before the body count kept rising
"HELP!" The scream shattered the night’s silence. It was a kid. Sounded young
Marc reacted without thinking twice. He pushed off between buildings, tracking the voice until he landed in front of a restaurant that had been closed down for a long time. The windows were caked in dust, the signs were barely hanging on, and the peeling paint made it obvious nobody had cared about this place in years. Yet, the scream was gone, and silence stretched across the street again like nothing had ever happened
He jumped to the roof in a single motion. Up there was a skylight leading straight to the kitchen. He leaned over just enough to peek inside, but the lights stayed off and he couldn’t spot any movement. Just darkness and the dim reflection of the moon on a few metallic surfaces
"Please!" The voice came back, way clearer this time, and it was definitely coming from inside
Something felt off. Marc looked up at the moon for a second. Waning gibbous, pretty close to a full moon
«Should be fine»
He dropped down into the alley connected to the restaurant's service entrance. He checked the doorknob out of pure habit, not really expecting it to be unlocked
It wasn’t. The door gave way after a couple of well-placed kicks. The loud crash echoed through the building as he stepped inside without slowing down his pace. He crossed the staff room, where a few rusty lockers were still open and several chairs were tossed on the floor. Everything looked completely empty, like the place had been abandoned overnight
"Help!" the voice yelled again. It was close. Sounded kind of muffled, maybe locked behind a door
Marc frowned slightly. Despite the racket he’d made busting through the entrance, the kid kept screaming the exact same way as before
His tone hadn’t changed
He hadn’t reacted
He didn’t sound like he was calling out to the guy who just broke in
«Didn’t he hear the door... or is he just ignoring it?»
Questions started piling up as he moved into the kitchen. The same skylight he’d seen from the roof was right above his head now. Moonlight filtered through the dirty glass, casting long, heavy shadows over the steel tables and making every corner look like it was hiding something
Then he heard a thud. It came from the door that likely led to the food storage room. He walked up slowly, every sense on high alert, until he rested a hand on the knob
And then he heard it. Movement
He spun around fast enough to slam his fist right into the face of the guy trying to sneak up behind him. The impact sent the man stumbling back a few steps, but Marc barely had time to watch him hit the floor before the real problem showed up
The sound of scrambling footsteps echoed throughout the restaurant as people started pouring out from every corner—dozens of them, emerging from the dark like they’d been waiting for this exact moment. Marc clicked his tongue immediately, recognizing the setup without needing any more proof. It was an ambush
He kicked the nearest guy right in the chest and immediately felt someone tackle his back. He backed up until he slammed against a wall, and the second the guy's grip loosened for even a split second, Marc grabbed him by his clothes and threw him over his shoulder. He barely managed to catch his balance before three more lunged at him from different angles
The most annoying part was that none of them were trying to hit him. They just wanted to pin him down
Hold him
Restrain him
And as much as he hated to admit it, they were starting to pull it off. They weren't particularly strong on their own, but they worked surprisingly well as a group and clearly knew their real advantage was numbers
Four men ended up pinning both his arms while another clung to his back, forcing him down onto his knees bit by bit
Damn it... Shit
He just needed them to get tired. The moment one of them slipped up their grip for even a second, he was gonna drop 'em all
"Holy shit, we barely got him, do it now!" one of the guys yelled, struggling to keep him locked down. Right away, someone yanked the hood of his suit and forced his head up, making him stare at the same door where the screams had been coming from earlier
The door creaked open slowly
A young guy stepped out from the dark and walked up right in front of him. He reached a hand out toward Moon Knight's face with a creepy amount of calm while Marc used every bit of strength he had left to push forward, dragging the guys holding his arms right along with him
"What are you waiting for?! Do it or he’s gonna break loose!" another guy screamed in total desperation
And then it happened. A blinding flash blew up right in front of his eyes
Everything got swallowed by a light so intense it was impossible to make out a damn thing. Just a few seconds later, the glare vanished as fast as it had come
And everything went black
"..."
Did he... pass out? What the hell? Did they use magic or something?
He could hear the constant dripping of water somewhere far off. Footsteps too, muffled by that distinct echo you only get in a cave or some underground rock-carved structure. Bit by bit, those sounds started getting clearer until he finally opened his eyes to a completely unfamiliar ceiling. Looked like natural stone, or some shit like that. He tried to sit up on instinct, but his whole body screamed at him to stop moving
"What the...?" he muttered, totally ignoring his body's protests. He managed to push himself up just enough to look at his chest, freezing for a second. He was shirtless, with all kinds of markings drawn across his skin. Before he could take a better look, he fell flat on his back again with a dull thud. He could barely move without feeling like every single muscle was tearing apart, like he’d been taking a beating for days on end
With a whole lot of effort, he managed to drag himself backward until his back hit the wall, staying seated. He winced, noticing the nasty trail of blood he’d left behind, and checked his body again more carefully. It wasn’t just those markings; there were cuts, bruises, and gashes spread across almost his entire torso and arms. Some wounds were still fresh, others looked a bit older. Guess that was why everything hurt so damn bad
What threw him off the most, though, was looking at his stomach. He was way too thin—the kind where if you took a deep enough breath, your ribs would show under the skin without even trying. «What the hell...?» Too many questions were stacking up in his head. The most important ones were pretty simple: where was he, and how long had he been out?
He took a better look at the room. It was pitch black. The only light came from a tiny window near the ceiling, guarded by thick iron bars, letting in just a sliver of night light. The second source was the door on the other side of the room, which wasn't very big either. Even from where he was sitting, he could tell it was solid iron. Busting that down would be tough under normal conditions; in his current state, he didn't even wanna think about trying. Plus, it had a little slit at eye level, barely big enough for someone to peek inside
Yeah... the whole place looked like your typical old-school dungeon cliché. The stone walls, the damp smell, and the constant dripping of water made the atmosphere feel even more suffocating. Marc tensed up as he heard footsteps in the distance. Shortly after came the heavy screech of a door swinging open
"He passed away" he heard a man's voice say
"Then he was unworthy. Dispose of him" a woman ordered with an unsettling amount of calm. The footsteps kept coming closer as another door creaked open with a metallic whine, this time much nearer
"Shit... damn it..." Marc muttered, trying to pull himself up even a little bit. He pressed a hand against the wall and forced his legs to respond, but his body just wouldn't cooperate. A sharp pain shot up his back, ripping a groan through his teeth before he slammed right back down. He breathed heavily as sweat started dripping down his forehead. They were checking the cells. He still didn't know what they were after, but if they were talking about dead bodies to throw away, he could hardly expect anything good
"They’re the third batch and not a single one has made it... what a damn disappointment" he heard as the voices reached right outside
"At this rate, we shall run out of volunteers" another man replied
They were in the cell right next door
Marc planted both feet on the ground and dragged his back up the wall again until he managed to stand up slowly. It hurt like hell. His skin felt like it was on fire with every tiny movement and his muscles felt like they were tearing just from breathing, but he wasn't about to meet whoever was on the other side of that door lying on the floor
"What does it matter? Most of these boys are runaways. So long as one proves worthy, that is enough... This one has perished as well" the same voice announced with complete indifference
«Alright... I must be next»
"Come on, Marc... you got this, damn it" he muttered, slapping his own cheek to stay awake. It was so weak he regretted it right away. He was already getting dizzy from the injuries and blood loss. He’d heard at least two men and one woman. Could be more
He hoped not
He listened as they started working the lock. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to swallow down the pain surging through his body. «You can do this... hold on a little longer» He clenched his jaw tight. He wasn't gonna collapse right now
The door finally creaked open with a long, sharp screech. The hallway light flooded the room all at once, forcing him to squint against the glare. After being in pitch black for who knows how long, that simple shift in light was practically blinding
"It cannot be..." one of the men muttered from the doorway. A loud gasp echoed just a second later. "He survived!"
«Come on... get closer. I’m gonna break your nose for what you did to me» he thought, breathing heavily. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light, letting him make out the figures standing at the door. They were all wearing masks covering half their faces, shaped like bird skulls or some crap like that. Great... just what I needed, a bunch of freaks
He heard more footsteps approaching down the hall. Yeah… there were more. Damn it
One of the men who’d opened the door stepped forward slowly until he was just a few feet away
"You survived. You were found worthy... Ah, my apologies, you must be disoriented. If you would allow me..." he said with a smile Marc could barely make out under that mask. The man kept stepping closer with obvious confidence, thinking the prisoner could barely keep his feet
When he got close enough, Marc threw a straight punch right to his face. The hit barely managed to make him stumble back a couple of steps
Marc almost gasped from the pain of striking him. His arm burned instantly and his legs nearly gave out, forcing him to lean on the wall to keep from dropping to his knees
The rest of them took a step forward, ready to tackle him, but stopped when they heard more footsteps coming down the hall. They all parted almost at once, clearing a path for someone else
A woman walked in slowly
She wore a white robe trimmed with gold accents and had a much more intricate mask than the others—a full bird skull covering her entire face. She walked with complete composure, like everything was under control and Marc’s little attack was nothing more than a minor annoyance. She stopped at the doorway and glanced briefly at the guy he’d just hit
"Are you harmed?" she asked in a calm, almost sweet voice. It made Marc sick how fake she sounded
"N-No, High Priestess. I was merely caught off guard" the man answered as he pulled himself together, clearly embarrassed
"Peace. It is only natural to be startled... Worry not, child. We are not your enemy" she said, now looking straight at Marc as she stepped into the room with slow, steady steps
«Yeah... I’m gonna hit you too»
"Where am I?" he asked, not bothering to hide the distrust. If they really weren't his enemies, the least they could do was start by answering a question
The woman stayed quiet for several seconds. Marc couldn't see her face behind that mask, but he got the feeling she was studying him closely
"Before I provide answers, I must be assured you will not attempt anything so foolish as to flee" she finally said, clasping her hands in front of her. At the same time, two men stepped into the cell and took up positions on either side of her, blocking the exit even more
"Why don't you find out?" Marc snapped back with a dry laugh. He could still feel cold sweat running down his forehead and could barely stay upright, but he still had enough energy left to be a pain in the ass
"Ah, my lord... we seek only what is best for you" she answered with almost maternal warmth as she closed in slowly. She reached a hand out toward his face, looking like she meant to caress his cheek
Marc didn't move. He let her get close. He waited, and when she seemed convinced he wasn't gonna put up a fight anymore, he snapped his head forward and delivered a hard headbutt
The woman stumbled back several steps, almost falling before one of the men caught her. Taking advantage of the moment, Marc lunged for the door, trying to break through the group. With a massive effort, he managed to knock one of them down, though he was pretty sure he’d barely hurt the guy. The attempt didn't last long. Two men managed to slam him right back down onto the floor
The impact ripped a loud groan out of him. They weren't being particularly gentle, and his body still felt like his skin was raw and burning alive
"You are confused... It is not your fault. We shall restore you" the woman said as she approached again. This time she knelt down slowly right in front of him, staring straight into his face through that creepy white mask
"We shall restore you..." she repeated in a much lower voice. Her hand began gently pushing back the strands of hair falling over Marc's forehead, like she was comforting a sick child. "You will be whole" she whispered, continuing that slow, almost affectionate gesture
Marc bit his tongue hard. No matter how much he tried, he could barely move a muscle to break free from their grip. He let out a noise that was half pain and half bottled-up rage, frustrated by the sheer helplessness of not being able to do a single damn thing. The woman didn't even seem bothered. She let out a soft, almost maternal laugh, and finally pulled her hand back before standing up again
"Raise him up. We shall show him the greatness he is meant for" she ordered with absolute calm
The men loosened their grip for a split second to get a better hold on him. He didn't waste the chance
He reacted instantly, diving for the leg of the closest guy and grabbing it with all the strength he had left. The man lost his footing and crashed hard onto the floor. From the impact, a dagger hidden in his clothes went flying, sliding several feet across the stone floor
«They’re carrying daggers... huh»
He didn't get to do anything else. A heavy kick caught him right in the side of the head. His sight spun, and a ringing noise started echoing in his ears. He was already weak as hell, but now he could barely tell where the floor ended and the ceiling began
"Damn it, he won't stay still" one of the guys complained while another grabbed his arms again. Between the two of them, they yanked him up practically by force, letting his legs drag along the floor as they moved through the stone corridors
The further they got from the cell, the more voices he could hear. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. They were talking among themselves, praying, or just muttering enough to create a constant hum of noise
"Silence" the woman announced, her voice echoing clearly over all the rest. "It brings me great joy to proclaim that our young brother Ryan has proven himself worthy"
The voices erupted right away. Some were celebrating, others crying with joy. He could even make out a few shouts of relief from the crowd
"Yet do not weep for him. His mind and soul have been accepted by our lord. And now, it is our sacred duty to fulfill his divine will"
«A cult... fantastic»
"Priestess, where would you have us place him?" one of the men asked. Marc barely managed to lift his head. From where he was, he noticed they were carrying him behind some kind of raised stage. The woman was standing up there, delivering her speech to the crowd
"Take him to the west wing. It is hardly ideal, but it shall serve as a temporary precaution" she answered in a low voice before turning back to the rest "We stand but a single step from the threshold alongside our lord. We shall reclaim his glory and exact his vengeance to reshape this world"
The applause, prayers, and crying filled the massive hall once again
As they kept dragging him, Marc managed to look up a bit more. The room was way bigger than he’d imagined. Dozens of people were kneeling in front of the stage with their hands folded, some praying, some crying, and others just staring at the priestess like she was a divine messenger
But that wasn't what caught his attention
At the back of the hall stood two massive stone statues. They were shaped like Khonshu
Marc felt something turn in his stomach. It had to be him... It's always gotta be him. The rage gave him one last burst of energy. He thrashing again, and this time he actually managed to break free from one of the guys. He barely got a step in before taking another heavy blow, this time to the back of the neck
His vision clouded over again. His head dropped forward. Now all he could see was the floor slowly passing beneath his eyes as they kept dragging him through the corridors
Finally, they dumped him. He crashed hard onto the stone floor, and just a few seconds later, he heard the door shut behind him with a heavy metallic bang. Great... another cell
"Khonshu..." he called out, trying to push himself up once more. With a huge amount of effort, he barely managed to lift his torso to check out the new room
Nobody answered. Marc frowned; that was weird. Khonshu always answered
"Stop fucking around and answer" he spat through a groan, turning all the way around so he was sitting up to get a better look at the place
This room had a little more light. A sad lightbulb hung from the ceiling, barely lighting up the stone walls. The door was pretty much identical to the last one, solid iron with the same slit to look in from the outside. There was an old bed pushed against a wall, a bathroom that had clearly seen better days, and in a corner, a poor excuse for a sink built right into the wall
All of that took a backseat. Khonshu still wasn't answering. "Fucking bird..." he muttered under his breath
Though deep down, he was hoping the guy was just ignoring him. He didn't wanna get too stressed out; the last thing he needed was to switch in a place like this
He checked his body again. With a whole lot of effort, he managed to reach a hand behind his back and touch the wounds. When he looked at his palm again, it was completely covered in blood. He had expected it, but seeing it was still pretty nasty
Those markings kept pulling his attention. Had to be some kind of seals, runes, or something like that. He could recognize a couple of hieroglyphics among all the marks, but he had no idea what they meant or what they were for
He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm down. Between the pain, the rage, and the confusion, he’d barely had time to think since waking up, until he finally noticed it: he was starving, bad—that painful, constant kind of hunger—and thirst wasn't far behind
With considerable effort, he pushed himself up to his feet and limped over to the sink. More than a sink, it looked like a block of concrete stuck to the wall. He turned the faucet, and a small trickle of water slowly began to flow
He stood there watching it for a few seconds. Didn't look cloudy, didn't smell bad either. But he had no clue how long he'd gone without water, so he wasn't really in a position to be picky
He cupped as much water as he could in his hands and started drinking. Man... he really needed that. Maybe that was why he was so damn weak
He scooped up some more water and splashed it onto his face this time. A sharp burn shot right across his forehead. He looked down at the water dripping from his hair
It was a pale shade of red
He let out a heavy sigh before running a hand through his wet hair. The second he brushed past a certain spot, he felt a sting of pain so intense he had to swallow down a curse
He pulled his hand back. More blood… How hard did they hit him...?
He had nothing to patch himself up with, and that supposed bed was little more than a mattress thrown on the floor. He didn't even know why he kept calling it a bed. There wasn't much else to do. He sat down on the mattress and started thinking
He needed a plan to get out of there. Maybe being so uncooperative wasn't helping much. If he kept attacking everyone the second they walked through the door, they’d just leave him locked up until who knows when
One of those cultists had a dagger on him. It was likely the rest did too. Snagging one would be a huge help
Plus, the place seemed to be an underground facility. He hadn't been able to see much during the transfer, but he could've sworn he saw some greenery peeking through the tiny window in the first cell. If that window was almost flush with the ceiling, it meant they were below ground level
And he kept hearing that constant dripping. There was moisture, and if there was moisture, there was probably a body of water nearby, which could be an emergency escape route if he couldn't score a vehicle
For now, he'd play along, mostly for two very simple reasons
First, to scope out the area. If he really was in the west wing and they had walked straight ahead during the transfer before turning left, then the cells were probably toward the south of the complex. If he could identify windows, hallways, or any exits, he’d have a much more useful mental map when it came time to break out
Second... He needed to figure out where the hell he was. And above all, what the hell he... and Khonshu had to do with any of this
Marc passed the time as best he could, counting the seconds in his head so he wouldn't lose his mind and to keep a rough idea of how long he’d been locked up. He didn't have a window to tell if it was day or night, and through the little slit in the door, he could only see a stone hallway with more doors identical to his. Every so often a cultist would pass by, but they never stopped. By his math, one, then three, and finally five hours had passed. At that point, passing out felt like only a matter of time
Pain had stopped being the main issue. Now his whole body was numb from blood loss. He could barely feel his fingers, which were constantly tingling, while the ringing in his ear stayed right there, relentless, like a reminder of every single hit he’d taken. He didn't wanna pass out. If someone walked in while he was unconscious, he’d be totally defenseless, and worse, he’d lose the little track of time he’d worked so hard to keep. He stayed seated with his back pressed against the wall, eyes glued to the door, but he could feel his head starting to drop on its own
Shit... He felt it coming. Hard as he tried to stay awake, he ended up passing out anyway
It wasn't a deep sleep, more like a half-conscious haze. He could hear distant voices, footsteps, and the sound of a door opening every now and then, but it all blurred together like he was underwater. He could barely catch a word before sinking back into the dark
When he finally snapped back to reality, he wasn't sitting up anymore. He had fallen onto the floor
"High Priestess! You ought not enter yourself" he caught a man saying. The voice still sounded distant and warped
"We brought him here. It is our duty to care for and guide him" the woman replied with her usual serenity. Even her voice sounded muffled, like Marc was listening to her from the bottom of a lake
With a massive effort, he managed to barely open his eyes. The woman was standing by the door talking to someone. She was carrying a tray in her hands, though from where he lay, he couldn't tell what was on it. He tried to move, even just to lift an arm, but his body simply refused to cooperate. It was like every single muscle was demanding he rest once and for all
«Can't sleep... not yet»
He blinked slowly. When his vision came back into focus, the woman was already kneeling in front of him. She had set the tray on the floor. On top was just a single slice of bread, a wet cloth, and a roll of bandages
Not nearly enough to heal him. Not even close
"I am sorry you must remain like this, my lord... But we must only ensure you understand and do not wield your gift against us" she explained calmly as she pressed the cloth to the back of his head
Marc winced slightly at the contact
So that was it. They didn't intend to heal him. Just make sure he didn't die. And at the same time, keep him way too weak to be any kind of threat
"Who...?" he managed to choke out. The word came out way softer than he wanted, barely a raspy whisper
"We are followers of Khonshu. We summoned you to restore the glory he once possessed" she answered with obvious pride, carefully beginning to wrap the bandage around the wound on his head
Khonshu's glory? Yeah… If that fucking bird was listening to all this, he’d probably be thrilled. Most likely, they wanted to use him for some ritual since he was Khonshu's avatar... or something equally stupid
"There. You see? I have no desire to harm you" she said as she finished adjusting the bandage. As if the gesture was totally natural, she pushed a few strands of hair off his forehead again with a gentleness that made Marc's stomach turn. He would've loved to slap her hand away, but he could barely wiggle his fingers
"I shall return to see you later" she whispered, picking up the tray and leaving only the piece of bread on the floor. Before stepping out, she spared him one last look, then shut the door with the same metallic screech as always
The silence returned almost instantly. Marc tried to stay awake
He couldn't. Just a few minutes later, he lost consciousness again
When he woke up next, his body still felt like absolute garbage, though at least he could move a bit better. The numbness was slowly wearing off, replaced once again by pain. He pushed himself up with effort until he was sitting, taking in the room. Everything was exactly the same: the same lightbulb, the same door, the same miserable mattress, and the same sink. The only difference was the piece of bread sitting on the floor, right where the woman had left it
Maybe they’d leave the tray by mistake when bringing food and he could use it as a makeshift weapon. Though he dismissed the idea right away. If he hid it, sooner or later they’d notice it was missing
He reached a hand up to his head, feeling the bandage wrapped around his skull. She had only treated that single wound. The rest of the cuts were exactly the same as before
It confirmed what he already suspected. They wanted to keep him alive. Not healthy
He picked up the piece of bread and inspected it for a few seconds. Didn't smell weird, nothing off at first glance. Still, he broke it in half to check the inside. Looked totally normal. Suspect as he was, he ended up eating it anyway
Didn't do much. Far from curbing his hunger, it seemed to wake up his appetite even more. That hollow feeling in his stomach was still there, maybe even worse than before
Marc let out a long sigh and rested his head back against the wall
Yeah... This is gonna be a long stay
˚࿔ ⋆⭒˚.⋆˚࿔ ⋆⭒˚.⋆˚࿔ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
So far, he’d managed to learn a few things
The first was pretty simple: they fed him very little. Always the same sad slice of bread, and based on the tracking he’d been doing since day one, only once every twenty-four hours. Barely enough to keep him conscious. Every single day he woke up with less strength than the last, and any sudden movement made his body feel heavy as lead
The second was even more frustrating. The only thing they were willing to tell him was how grand, merciful, and wonderful Khonshu was. That he was the chosen one. That he had a higher purpose. That soon he would understand his true destiny. Bla, bla, bla. He’d tried changing the subject dozens of times, fishing for info about the place, the city, or just asking how long he’d been in there, but everyone seemed trained to dodge any talk that could be useful to him
The third was the woman. She was the only one who spoke to him directly. She’d show up once a day, bring him food, change his head bandage, and repeat the same soothing speech as always. Yet, she kept ignoring the rest of his injuries. Didn't matter how many cuts kept bleeding or how many bruises popped up, she never touched them. Keeping him alive, not healthy
And the fourth... The most important one. They didn't want him to die
Every so often a cultist would pause in front of the door, peek through the slit for a few seconds to make sure he was still breathing, and then carry on with their rounds. They never walked in just because, but if they suspected something had happened to him, they’d definitely open the cell to check
That was his shot. He didn't know exactly how long he’d been locked up, but he’d already gotten five meals. If his math was right, he had to be five or six days deep into this place
And honestly... He was sick of it. He felt like all the effort he’d put into acting cooperative was gonna go straight to hell if he had to listen to one more speech about Khonshu's "greatness"
That was another thing that wouldn't stop racing through his head: Khonshu. He’d tried calling out to him again and again, but he never answered. What worried him most was something else—he couldn't summon the suit either. He’d tried countless times, no luck. Nothing. Not a single bandage. Not a shadow. Not an answer
He had no idea if his link to Khonshu was severed, if those symbols carved onto his skin were blocking the connection, or if the Egyptian god had simply decided to dump him. There was no logical explanation
Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to lose his mind dwelling on that. He had way more urgent priorities. Like getting the hell out of there
His plan was pretty simple
He’d wait for them to bring his food. At this point, they trusted him enough to leave the tray inside the cell without taking too many precautions. Then he’d wait for one of the cultists on rounds to show up to check if he was still alive
Then he’d play dead. To make it convincing, he’d probably have to hurt himself a little more. Not exactly pleasant, but he could handle it
He’d make the guard think he’d committed suicide. When the guy walked in to check what happened, he’d jump him, take his keys and his dagger. The rest... would be pure, raw improvisation
They’d never actually taken him out of the cell, so he only had a vague idea of how the complex was laid out. He’d just have to figure it out as he went
Sure... That was the plan
The whole structure suddenly starting to shake was definitely not part of it
They hadn't even brought his food for the day when a loud crash shook the entire place. The walls vibrated slightly and tiny bits of dust started falling from the stone ceiling
A second later came the screaming—dozens of voices overlapping while half-baked orders, frantic footsteps running in every direction, and a growing panic spread through the whole facility
Marc stood up as fast as he could and looked through the door slit. The hallway was still empty, but at the end of it, the chaos was impossible to ignore. Something was going down, and whatever it was, he could use it to his advantage. He waited a couple of minutes, resisting the urge to start pounding on the door. Finally, a cultist came running down the hall
He pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the cell so fast he barely looked up to make sure Marc was still in there
"We must depart! Come, I shall lead you to our escape route" he said, grabbing Marc by the wrist and yanking him along
Marc didn't resist. If this guy was planning to take him straight to an exit, following him was way better than getting lost wandering random hallways. He’d find the right moment to take him down
Most likely they’d try to shove him into some getaway vehicle or move him to another facility. And he had zero intention of following these lunatics anywhere
They rushed through several rooms. Marc took advantage of every corner and every doorway to memorize the layout. Finally, they went up a set of stairs that led into some kind of chapel. It had massive stained-glass windows
And for the first time since he woke up, he could see the full night sky. It was now or never. He’d been watching the cultist's back ever since they stepped out of the cell
He’d already spotted where the guy was hiding his dagger
The man slowed down slightly as he fumbled for the keys to open the main chapel doors. That was all Marc needed. He shoved him with all the strength he had left
The cultist's head hit the wall hard with a dull thud. Before he could react, Marc reached into his clothes and snatched the dagger
Then he grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up. The blade pressed flat against his throat
"You get one chance... Where are we? And what's the closest city?" Marc asked, pressing the dagger just a bit firmer. A tiny drop of blood started sliding down the man's skin
"C-Calm yourself, my lord... we are not your enemy and..." Marc slowly sank the tip of the blade in. The man let out a painful yell "W-We are a few miles outside Gotham!" he answered in total desperation
"Gotham... Where the hell is that?" Marc muttered without loosening his grip
He’d never heard that name before. Was he out of the country? Was it some middle-of-nowhere town? Was the guy lying to him? He didn't get to ask a second question before more footsteps started rushing over fast, and he cursed under his breath
He grabbed the cultist's head again and slammed it against the wall with everything he had. At any other time, he probably would've cracked his skull open. Now he only managed to daze him and split his forehead open
No time for anything else. He ran over to one of the stained-glass windows, grabbed one of the wooden pews in the chapel, and hurled it with all his strength. The glass shattered into a hundred pieces
"What is happening?... He is escaping!" The voices were getting closer by the second
Marc didn't wait. He jumped through the window as best he could. A shard of glass sliced his leg open on the way out. He gritted his teeth and kept running without stopping. He could hear water somewhere close, so he immediately switched directions
It was his best shot: losing them in a river would be way easier than trying to get away on foot, though he didn't have high hopes of pulling it off by running; he was still exhausted, still banged up, and with his leg sliced open he wouldn't get very far. They were just a few yards behind him when he finally reached the edge and stopped dead in his tracks: it was a cliff, and not a small one
The drop ended in a dark river raging several yards below. Marc let out a dry laugh
«Why does it always have to be a damn cliff?»
"Woah... my lord, calm yourself. You need not do this. Why do we not return? The priestess shall be sick with worry if you depart" one of the cultists said as they all stopped at a safe distance, watching Marc flick his eyes back and forth between them and the drop
Marc looked back down. He calculated the height, the speed of the water, and the distance
He wasn't in peak shape. He didn't even know where the river would drag him. But he couldn't go back either. He’d already tried to break out once, and they’d definitely beef up security after this
And he still had no clue how much time he had left before they decided to use him for whatever real purpose they’d kidnapped him for
"M-My lord... do not... do not do what..."
Marc looked right at him, didn't let him finish, stepped back just an inch, built up momentum, and jumped