[Steven and Marc have been waiting for a certain someone to return home after work. Now, the sun has set, and the apartment remains empty.]
[Word Count: 1596]
[🌙This chapter contains swearing and implied violence.🌙]
***
I held tightly onto Marc as he hurriedly assisted me, rushing me up the stairs, his suit blazing profoundly behind him. "Marc!" I silently cried, feeling my legs losing the last of their strength. Unable to hold onto his hand, I slipped from his grasp and fell onto the stairs, my hands slapping the laminate floor, causing an echo to reverberate through the museum's stairwell.
Marc immediately turned around and gasped, retracting his mask in worry. "Shit! I'm sorry, baby." He muttered, traversing the steps to my groaning position. His hand carefully tried to assist me without hurting me, but I still cried out in unbearable pain as his hand ran over my side, obviously agitating a broken rib.
I pushed his hands away and cradled my side, crying in agony. This was the result of being tortured for seven hours in the basement of the museum at the hands of men who would do anything to achieve their goal of forcing me into submission.
"Love? Hey...hey." Steven fronted, now accessorized by his finely tailored white suit. "It's going to be okay. I'm right here." He sat on the step beside me, his gloved hand softly caressing my cheek that was damp with pained tears. "Whenever you're ready, grab my hands." He directed, opening both of his hands towards me.
I breathed deeply, but gasped at the sharp pains that accompanied them. I leaned my pounding head against the side of the stairwell. "I'm-I'm so sorry." I hiccuped, watching Steven's expression change in confusion. "I-I was getting ready to leave to come home and..." I closed my eyes in remembrance. "And they snuck up on me."
Steven immediately palmed my unaffected cheek. "My love, please don't think that this is your fault. You were attacked. You are the victim here." He explained, watching as I opened my eyes and my lip trembled.
"I should've been more careful, like Marc said, and I thought I could protect myself and-and I couldn't. Not even when I punched the one guy. He..." I sobbed into my hand that I covered my face with. "He hit me so hard...I don't remember what happened after that." I admitted, now feeling Steven's hand cover my own.
"You are not to blame, my dove. You tried, and that's all that matters. And for those blokes upstairs, Marc and I are going to do everything to them that they did you, alright? They aren't getting away with this." He gravely declared, inching closer and cradling my head into his chest.
I sniffed and managed to calm my ragged breaths. "Please...please take me home. Take me back home." I begged, reaching out to grab the center of Marc's crescent darts that were situated on the chest of his broad chest.
"We are, baby. We are." Marc retorted, his own voice cracking as he watched me plead in anguish and overcome by pain that was inflicted by another. "I don't think I can carry you, (Y/N). With your injuries, I don't know how painful that's going to be for you." He whispered, trying to console my trembled body.
I gripped his shoulder tightly and he responded my holding my elbow for support. "Please, carry me, Marc." I begged breathlessly, not having the strength to walk anymore. Never would I ask for such dramatic assistance, but I trusted Steven and Marc with my life.
He complied, scooping his arms around me, being extremely wary of the injuries he knew about. "Okay, hold on to me, baby." He commanded, helping lift my arms over his head to where I could interlock my fingers. "Deep breath." His eyes searched my face and tears pricked his eyes. "I'm so sorry." He offered, knowing that the next few moments were going to be pure hell for me.
I nodded, which gave him the signal to finally lift me, which had me silently scream into his shoulder. Although he was being tender and more than careful, I could feel his hands on my broken and bruised skin, aggravating the injuries to where I was trembling in shock.
Marc swiftly climbed the stairs, and at hearing the cries into his shoulder, almost faltered and stopped completely. He knew that if he stopped, it would only cause my more discomfort, so he hurriedly traversed the rest of the stairwell.
We finally reached the door, and Marc opened it, not caring that the metallic door would definitely draw unwanted attention to ourselves. "Almost there, sweet girl, hold on." He whispered engaging his mask to be replaced, now running towards the front of the museum.
"Hey!" A voice shouted, obviously catching onto the fact that Marc was hurdling towards the entrance, and I was in tow. Footsteps began to follow after us and I held onto Marc even tighter, trying to ignore the unrelenting agony that the action caused.
He hurriedly jumped over the gift shop counter and nestled me into the corner, detaching me from his neck. "Here, Steven says that you'll be safe here." He whispered, listening for the second pair of footsteps he was expecting.
Steven suddenly fronted and his arms searched the shelves until he found what he was after. "Aha!" He retracted his hand and revealed a pack of jellybeans. "Love," He stated, forcing open the package, "I'm sure you're starving, and I've got dinner for you at home, but eat some of these, yeah? You'll get some energy back." He carefully placed them onto my lap. "Don't leave from behind here, you understand?"
I nodded in agreement and watched as he jumped back over the countertop rapidly, apparently disappearing.
[Third Person Perspective]
Marc fronted, now seeing the only other two people in the museum. It didn't make sense to him that only two were there, and how they had managed to subdue the entire building. But that didn't matter. His only priority was getting (Y/N) home safely.
"Who the hell are you?!" One of the men shouted, now only 10 feet from Marc's defensive position next to the counter of the gift shop. The other man caught up, aiming his weapon at Marc who wasn't phased in the slightest.
Marc removed two crescent discs from his chest. "That woman you kidnapped and tortured? That's our wife." He lowly growled, "And you put your fucking hands on her."
The men looked at each other in fear and confusion, not understanding what the "our" portion particularly meant in that context. Before they realized what was happening, Marc had charged the closest one, running the pointed end of the crescent across his abdomen, before harshly ramming his hand against a rib hard enough to shatter it.
The man shouted in agony while Marc kicked the side of the man's leg, forcing him to the ground in immediate pain.
Steven fronted, sensing at attack from behind and using the metallic rods in his hands, slammed one into the face of the other attacker, similar as the man had done to (Y/N).
Marc and Steven continued to replicate her injuries, also aware that they didn't know the extent of the damage done to her.
So they continued to injure them as they pleased.
Marc. Steven.
Marc immediately halted and turned towards Khonshu, still gripped the collar of the man that he was just obliterating with his fist. He was breathing heavily and his suit was stained with blood that wasn't his.
Take her home. Leave these men to me.
Khonshu commanded, slamming the crescent staff onto the ground. He watched as Marc eyed the men who were writhing and crying at his feet. With shaking breaths, he released the collar, letting the man's body thud to the floor, and nodded at Khonshu, knowing that he had a hidden soft spot for (Y/N) and would definitely enjoy the time spent with the wicked men at his feet.
[First Person Perspective]
My head rested on the backside of the lower portion of the gift shop counter. Horrendous sounds echoed through the museum and screams and grunts followed recurring hits with what I could only assume to be weapons of some sort.
Marc slid over the top of the counter and landed at my feet, immediately reaching for me. "Alright baby, let's go, come on." He tried to comfort, leaning closer and retracting his mask.
"D-did you get them?" I asked, my hands trembling as I reached for his larger ones. Never had I asked him to kill a spider or insect in our apartment, because I knew that I could handle those creatures.
But I also thought I could handle an even more pervasive species: humans.
He nodded and glanced over the top of the counter. "Yeah, Steven and I got 'em, sweetheart. Khonshu's gonna finish what we started, come on." I eagerly reached for his neck and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, despite the agonizing pain.
"Please take me home, Marc." I begged, feeling him stand and cradle me again. He began to hurriedly sprint from the museum, now rapidly running towards the corridor. My head rested on his shoulder, feeling jostled and even more exhausted as he began to exit the building.
My head slightly raised in confusion as I looked back into the corridor behind us.
I don't remember there being new displays on the ceiling.