Control | Moon Knight

8.0

The phones are placed on the charge, and in the meantime, the landline is used to contact the group of archaeologists about their late arrival. It all gets sorted out, and Cleo will be back to work in no time.

Cleo stands before the mirror, her reflection distorted by the dimly lit room. Her eyes, heavy with unshed tears, gaze back at her with a mix of despair and defiance. She knows she should face her fears head-on, confront the demons that haunt her, but tonight she seeks relief in a different way. The weight of her troubled thoughts bears down on her, suffocating her from within. She craves an escape, even if only temporary, from the relentless grip of her own mind. In a desperate attempt to silence the voices that echo in her head, she decides to drown her sorrows in the numbing embrace of alcohol.

Tinged with desperation, Cleo selects a black dress that hugs her figure, a mask to conceal her vulnerability. She leaves Marc or Steven or whomever will wake up in control, and allows them both to catch some much-needed sleep in the hotel room. As she steps out into the Cairo night, the sound of her heels against the pavement echoes through the empty streets. The city is alive with shadows and secrets, an enigmatic playground where she hopes to lose herself.

The club pulses with life as Cleo steps inside, the music pounding in her chest, matching the erratic beat of her heart. The air is thick with a heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and anticipation. She navigates through the crowd, her movements fluid and purposeful, seeking refuge in the chaos that surrounds her. Bodies writhe on the dancefloor, lost souls seeking release from their own torments. Cleo joins them, moving with an abandon that borders on reckless. She dances as if possessed, her body swaying and contorting with each beat. The strobe lights cast eerie shadows across her face, distorting her features into something otherworldly.

But eyes watch her from the darkest corners of the club. A God stands amidst the pulsating crowd. His presence is felt rather than seen, a chilling breeze that raises hairs on the back of her neck. He observes her with a detached curiosity, his eyes piercing through the smoke and haze.

As Cleo loses herself in the music, her mind clouded by the intoxicating concoction of alcohol and desperation, a sense of unease begins to gnaw at her. The once vibrant atmosphere now feels stifling, the energy in the room turning sinister. Shadows dance on the walls, twisting and contorting in unsettling patterns.

Marc stirs from his sleep, an instinctive awareness pulling him towards a sense of impending danger. The darkness of their hotel room feels heavier, oppressive. He rubs his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, as he realizes Cleo is no longer beside him. Panic grips his heart as he frantically searches the room, calling out her name into the emptiness.

" Marc, Marc! Wh-Where is she?"

" I don't know."

Steven is frantically pacing within the realm of the mirror as Marc throws on a jacket and a pair of shoes before disappearing into the night sky.

Outside the club, in the alleyways shrouded in darkness, Marc's voice mingles with the sound of distant sirens. It reverberates through the labyrinthine streets, a desperate plea that seems to dissipate into thin air. He moves with an urgency fueled by fear, the echoes of Cleo's name bouncing off the walls and fading into obscurity.

Meanwhile, Cleo's dance grows increasingly frenetic. Her movements become disjointed, almost mechanical, as if a force beyond her control compels her. The gazes of those around her shift from admiration to trepidation, a collective unease permeating the air. Whispers of a curse, an ancient magic, circulate amongst the patrons, their voices blending with the dissonant music.

The God watches with an inscrutable expression, the flickering lights casting an otherworldly glow upon his face. His presence is palpable, a manifestation of the unseen forces that toy with human lives. Cleo's reckless abandon has unknowingly drawn the God closer. He steps out from the shadows, his form blending seamlessly with the darkness that surrounds him. The air grows colder, sending a shiver down Cleo's spine as she senses a presence looming behind her.