The Imagination Latibule: Moon Knight - The Rise of the Moon

Chapter 4

What about the deep voice?" you asked, pulling his top back down for him. "Someone you recognise?"

"No clue," he said. "But he kept saying to surrender my body to Marc." You gulped, and suddenly, like being hit by a train, the memory of the night Steven left came back to you. You stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, and Steven was by your side in an instant.

"y/n, what's wrong love," he asked, and suddenly you were filled with relief that he was talking in his normal cockney accent.

"I met... him. You... The night you left."

"What?" Steven asked, helping you sit.

"I was turning off the alarm so you could sleep longer and you woke up, only you said you weren't you."

"What d'you mean love? Cause this is a bit scary now innit, and I don't know what to do."

"You were talking in an American accent, saying you weren't Steven. That you were Marc Spector. And there was this deep, booming voice... It called me worm."

"Worm," Steven repeated, eyes wide. "That's what I heard... y/n, both of us can't be going crazy, right?"

"No?" you said unsurely, dumbfounded as to what was going on. Steven looked away, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed a scrape across the floor. His fingers reached out; rubbed it, and as you followed his gaze, you produced an equally confused look.

"What's this," he mumbled, and then he traced the mark to a table, and pushed said table across the mark, to where the scratch stopped.

"What are you hiding Steven?" you asked him and he shook his head cluelessly. You helped him move the fish food and books, suddenly wondering how much you really knew about Steven. He tested the table by wobbling it – it held sturdy – and climbed up.

"The wood," you pointed. "The plank is loose." Steven knocked on it and it folded inwards, revealing a hole in the wall.

"What is this about?" he said, putting on his glasses and reaching in. He pulled out a key to a safe storage and a phone, and you helped him down carefully as he stared at it. You gently took the phone from his hand as he trembled, and turned it on. You scrolled through the contacts and missed calls, and then you turned back to him.

"Who is Layla?" you asked him, and as you did, she started to ring. You nearly dropped the phone, the loud chime startling you. "Answer it," you said, passing the phone to Steven.

"What, me?"

"Yes, you," you said, ushering him to answer. He put his fingers to his lips and you quieted. He pressed answer.

"...Yeah?"

"Oh, my God, you're alive," the woman, supposedly Layla, exclaimed and you frowned.

"Yeah, all right."

"That's it? I've been texting and calling you for months. You couldn't give me any sign that you were ok? I thought something had happened to you. Where are you, where've you been?"

"Uh" Steven stalled as he thought of what to say.

"Hello?" Layla said and you spoke up.

"Sorry, we just found this phone in his flat and we're just trying to figure out who's it is."

"What? Who are you? What is happening right now?"

"Sorry, who do you think I am?" Steven asked.

"What do you mean, 'who?' What's wrong with you Marc?" You and Steven stared at each other.

"She called you..."

"What did you just call me?" Steven stuttered. "Who is this? Why did you call me Marc? Hello?" The line disconnected.

"No, no, no, come on," you cried, frantically trying to redial the number. Layla didn't answer and you watched as Steven started to pace the room.

"Who said that?" he said suddenly and you looked at him.

"Who said what?"

"You didn't hear that?" he asked, and when you shook your head, he backed away fearfully. You turned around, making triple sure that no one was in the apartment with you, and when you saw Steven's reflection in the mirror, he looked angry.

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble," he said in an American accent, and you turned to him with a queasy feeling rising from the pit of your stomach, but he was still him.

"Oh, no, no, no, mate. Someone's having a laugh," he said in his normal accent.

"Steven." You approached him carefully but suddenly he dropped to the floor.

"Oh God, oh God!" he cried and you crouched down as he grabbed the table leg, clinging onto it like the world was shaking around him. "Bloody hell, what the..."

You thought you heard a whisper, "Steven, stop looking," and decided that what would be best for both of you is if you got out of the apartment. There was no way you were both going mad; not on your watch.