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

Chapter 11

"Anton, stop," you begged but you were pushed you to the floor, dust flying up into your face.

"Get on your knees," Mogart said again, and Marc, looking at you with a seething anger at the man who put you in the dirt, nodded.

"You don't understand," you said to Mogart as he turned back to you. "We're trying to save many lives." But Mogart disagreed, and you gulped as his hand reached out for you.

"Hey, pal. Take a look inside the sarcophagus," Marc said quickly. "There's something really, really big."

That was it. The distraction you needed. But Mogart never got so far as to look inside, and you saw the worry settle back on Marc's face as one of his bodyguards whispered to him in Arabic.

"Well, that's interesting. It appears we have a concerned third party here. Get up."

They marched you and Marc outside, and the two of you were clearly shocked as Harrow walked forwards, holding out the scarab, which made Mogart all the more intrigued.

"Whatever they've told you, I'm sure I can offer you something much more tangible." He let the golden trinket float from his hands. "Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?"

"Anton," you said. "Anton, don't listen to this man. He's trying to stop us from reaching Ammit's tomb. He's gonna kill millions, trust me!"

"Please, there's no need to descend into violent accusations," Harrow said, yet again trying to establish himself as the voice of reason. "y/n, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds from your childhood reopening. But something stands in your way. And Marc, you don't open up to y/n because you know that if you do, she'll see you exactly as you see yourself, as unworthy of love. Don't allow these fears to cause such animosity."

"You piece of shit," Marc said quietly, shaking his head.

"Anton. The lore surrounding these relics, I offer proof that it's real." Harrow raised his staff, walking towards the sarcophagus. "Anton... Would you like to see for yourself?"

"Yes. I do."

You could see the lights around the party flickering and noticed Marc distracted. Khonshu was on the roof; you couldn't hear what he was saying, but Marc could. Then a bang brought you back to reality and you flinched as Harrow, chanting in Coptic, blew up the sarcophagus with the cane he carried. Mogart's eyes were alight with greed.

"That's just a taste of the godly power I offer," Harrow said, and leaving Mogart wanting more, he walked off into the shadows. You watched him go, wanting to give chase.

"Hey, he's gone!" one of the guards suddenly shouted, and you span round to realise that Marc had vanished.

"Where is he?" Mogart shouted. That's when you saw the shadow of a crescent moon, and knew that Marc was above you. As the others noticed him, Mogart was dragged away and they began to fire. You ducked to the ground, avoiding a bullet that went whizzing by your ear, and watched as Marc jumped on one of the men, throwing a knife at the other which had him on the ground in a second.

You had to help. Grabbing the incapacitated -- dead -- mans gun, you fired at the two guards coming towards you on instinct, and they both dropped. You'd never killed anyone before. You'd never even fired a weapon. It made you feel horrible. Then you heard the sound of open fire, and ducked as the guards started firing on you.

"y/n," Marc cried, raising his hands with his cape in each grip, and forming a human shield as you ducked into his chest. 

"Buy me some time?" you asked.

He nodded. "I can do that."

Marc ran into the oncoming fire without fear, using his cape to whip up the sand and cover you as you rushed back to the sarcophagus. You grabbed the pieces of cloth that Marc had been fiddling with and tucked them into your back pocket, before turning to leave.

Bek was in the way, a knife in his hand, and you knew that unless you killed him, he would kill you. As you backed away, you grabbed a fistful of glass that had shattered during Harrow's demonstration. He started forwards and you threw the shards in his eyes, catching him off guard as he wailed and staggered away. It gave you time to grab a slab of wood, and you tried to hit him with it, but he blocked the blow with his hands and caught you round the face. It was your turn to fall back, and you ducked as he stabbed at you, pushing his hand against the metal frame. He dropped the knife at the impact, but his hands instead curled around your collar and he threw you into the wall. You felt a crunch and dropped to the floor. You didn't want to get up, but you had to. Curling your hand around a large shard of glass on the floor, Bek picked you up to finish you off. But you raised your hand and stabbed him through the heart with a scream.

The look his gave you was one you never wanted to see again, and you shuddered, trying to get the fear in his eyes out of your head as you let him fall to the floor. Letting your hand hang loosely as it bled, still embedded with shards of glass, you limped out to Marc, grabbing a gun as you did so.

It was no longer Marc.

"Oh! Sorry. You all right?" Steven asked as he released his grip on one of the guards throats. "That's it. All right, time out!" he yelled, gesturing with his hands to stop the fighting. "That's it, time out! Guys, let's all calm down, yeah? We're all worked up. Let's all just, like, chill the F out and talk for a second..."

It was just like Steven to try and broker peace, but it wasn't working, and you screamed as a jousting stick went through his back. He grunted, bending over. "Take the body." Another through his stomach. "Take the body, take the body, Marc."

And then Marc was back in time for several more jousting sticks to plunge through his body, pinning him to the floor. You vaulted over the fence and into the arena to help, shooting down the next guard that came at him on a horse with an accuracy that caught you by surprise. But then you felt a blunt object hit the back of your head and you dropped, the world spinning at a million miles an hour as you hit the sand. 

"y/n," Marc screamed, a terror in his voice that you'd never heard. The mask had receded from his face and he was panting like a dog; trembling; saliva dripping from his lips as he tried to break free. He didn't know if he could save you.

Mogart galloped by, your blood on the end of his pole annoying him as he dropped it and snatched a new, clean one. You tried to stand but couldn't, letting your head drop back into the dirt. As Mogart lined up to joust, the spearhead pointed at you, Marc's mask reappeared, and within seconds, he had all of Mogart's men on the ground, dead or soon to be.

He stared down Mogart. Realised what was going to happen. The two of them were equidistant from you. It was down to who was faster.

As Mogart spurred his horse onwards, Marc shot towards you at a sprint, and for a moment you worried that he wouldn't reach you in time. But you felt his hands around you, pulling you out the way as Mogart stabbed the ground where you'd lay. Yanking a knife from the holder in his chest, Marc threw it into Mogart's back as he road off into the fog, and all you heard was a thud as he fell from his horse. 

He was gone.

"y/n," Marc said softly, crawling off of you. "Oh baby. Are you ok?"

You nodded, but that was a lie. He touched the back of your head gently, and when blood stained his white clothed fingers, he shook his head. "You're not." He lifted you into his arms and you didn't have much energy to resist as you pressed your hand to his chest. It stung and you pulled away, leaving a blood red hand print that made Marc grit his teeth to refrain from an outburst. 

You found yourself suddenly quite jealous of the healing powers Khonshu bestowed upon him, and how, despite being made into a human pin prick, he was out of breath but otherwise ok.

"Marc, we have to go..."

"No," he said, hugging you to his chest as he walked the two of you away from the deserted party. "We're doing nothing until you're alright."