"The what, now?" Marc asked with a raised eyebrow, and with a tone that merely translated to a suspected 'great, now this.'
"The double soul." Steven joined in recognition. "It's given in the Book of the Dead. Shu, the god of dry air and the force of preservation, a-and Tefnut, the goddess of corrosive air, brought about the concept of time were both supposed to possess but one soul between them, but the two halves of it were identified with the soul of Osiris and the soul of Ra, which together formed the great double soul which dwelt in Tattu. Some even call them the Adam and Eve of Egyptian mythology."
"We are siblings?" Nina cringed a great deal, if she had cringed any harder, she would've retched.
"Not necessarily...you don't have to be," Tawaret commented. "But if you do have the double soul then there might be a problem. And without balanced Scales, the Duat will eventually claim your souls."
Marc, who too had his arms around his chest looked suggestively at Steven and Nina, with raised eyebrows and widened eyes, wanting them to consider his plans.
"Do you have any other suggestions?" Steven asked to put Marc's nerves on ease, while Nina just gave the mercenary stink eyes, and a nodding head as a warning if he even thinks of the stupid plan.
"This boat contains all of a life's memories." Tawaret said, and the three instantly looked at the door, "Now I don't know what you two guys have been hiding, but my advice, get in there and show each other the truth. And due to the possible double-soul complexity, you have to show it to her too."
This made Marc snap his head at Nina. His head screamed only one thought, 'not in a million years'
"Balance your Scales before we arrive at the Field of Reeds, or your souls will be destroyed."
"Yeah, all right." Steven walked inside the door with a slightly hunched posture and fumbling hands.
"So how are we supposed to do this?" Marc said in his usual Chicago accent and confident posture.
"Not sure." Nina watched as Steven answered before his voice became a lot more worried, "You think Layla's all right?"
"Yeah, for now." Marc answered genuinely carefully watching the obvious hurt tainting Nina's features after hearing Layla's name, "And knowing her, she'll go on a suicide mission to stop Harrow herself." His throat vibrated with a menacing and sarcastic soft chuckle, as with a set jaw he snarled at the woman next to him, having turned and having set his eyes front, "Who you'd be joining too if you had just left when I asked you to."
Chuckling darkly herself, the woman retorted, "You're acting as if you weren't the one who thought he'd handle all of Harrow's armed men."
"I did what was right." Marc seethed before coming face to face with the woman. "What you did was stupidity. You cut down two men with an axe when the maniac had a gun in his hand."
"You—" Before Nina could even finish, Steven put his hands between them and moved them apart from each other as he tried to dispute, "Fighting isn't going to help us, yeah? We need to hurry, so we can help Layla."
"Know what Layla would be all right with ?" Marc started,
"If you say anything about killing a hippo, I swear to god Marc, I'll throw you in the Duat myself." Nina groused before she started walking the hallway.
"I'm just saying there is one hippo and three of us, and this ship can't be that hard to steer. So..." Marc continued with his plan nonetheless, "And we don't have to actually..."
"Have to what? Kill the Goddess Taweret?" Steven commented distracted, as he looked inside every door, trying to figure out which one to start with, whereas Nina did the same, although as she heard Marc talk, the more she wanted to throw him in the sand.
"No, just, you know, find me a rope a-a-and..." Marc stuttered trying to find ways to not make it look so murder-y and dark.
"Could you not think of committing homicide for just one god-damn second?!" Nina commented.
Marc just glared at her meekly for that, biting down the urge to say 'no', before his alter joined, "Yeah. Or we can do what she says and help each other uncover whatever it is that we're hiding."
He stopped abruptly when through the small window in the door he watched that day back at the Museum, where Marc kept pounding and punching the Egyptian corpsy jackal right into the white tiles of the destructed washroom, but what made him curious was that Nina was nowhere to be found.
Nina on the other hand was busy staring at the view of the door she had stopped herself in front of. The view of memory was that of an alleyway, although it wasn't the one she and Steven had the misfortune of visiting a few days back, no this was someplace else. Old and green dumpsters which were placed against the two brick walls seemed to be illuminated to an extent by the night's moonlight and that of a distant and single street light which was located at the edge of the alleyway. The pavement was sort of slick, from the downpour which had stopped showering, and it shone gleamingly from the full moon above. But before Nina could even do as much as touch the knob, there echoed the desperate calls of a young boy screaming 'Help!'
Steven immediately looked back at her and then at Marc, "Did you both hear that?"
Nina nodded to him, but Marc just stood still in his place. His skin had paled a great deal, it seemed as if he had seen a ghost. He pulled his hands into a fist, trying to get rid of the beads of sweat which were tainting his palms whole. But he moved into a sprint, grumbling an incoherent 'hey' when both Nina and Steven started running in the voice's direction. With all his might and fright, he urgently pushed both the door open with his palm, causing a rather loud sound to boom through the darker room, which only caused Steven to flinch and gasp a little, whereas Nina stood there horror-stricken.
They had entered a cafeteria, and on each table, four chairs had dead-decayed corpses of people sitting, and on each table, there were four white ushabtis, which Nina reckoned were either their ashes or souls. Steven who had held her hand in his as soon as they had entered the room, tightened the hold and pulled her a little nearer to himself, partially due to the noise Marc had created but mostly due to the sight before them. Sarcastically he turned towards an even paler Marc, as he sniped, "Just a creepy caff filled with dead bodies. That's all it is. No prizes guessing whose room this is."
Marc's words and being had visibly constricted, his body cautiously still. His throat had gone dry, and he just couldn't get himself to bring the words out of his vocal cavity to the tip of his tongue.
Nina watched him concernedly and frightfully of what was happening to him and of what was happening in this room. Frost seemed to have developed through her veins and into her dying blood, as it chilled throughout, freezing it with taints of newly formed dread and terror as she watched Marc speak firmly and lowly "I-it's not mine."
The chillness of this dread paralyzed her throughout, as her raspy tone groveled "What?"
"Then whose is it?" Steven, whose tone had gone low too, continued.
The same look of underlying pleading morphed into Marc's face, as he cleared his throat from the gravelly taint his insides had gotten all of a sudden. He tried not to look at them both, especially her, as he ran a hand through his hair tremoring and nervously as he groveled, hoping that Steven would be the one to retort "Does it matter?"
"Yes." Nina could only bring herself to strain out one syllable. She had long detached herself from Steven and had soon marched solemnly towards Marc. The nearer she got to him, the more easily she could read the detailed sorrows of his tired face. It ached her heart seeing the pain that was embedded in his eyes, and the way the muscles in his arms ticked unable to do some action. And the nearer she had gotten, Marc couldn't help but notice the same thing, the same pain, it was like in some way she knew whose room this was, but he just didn't know how he'd say it to her. He longed to hold her in his arms and explain everything to her from scratch, but now was not the time, now it was too late. It was only a matter of time before the ship rumbled again to the sides, and Steven exclaimed, "Look."
He pointed his finger towards the scales which were present on a table in the middle of the room, "The Scales are slowing down. It's working."
"Okay, all right." Marc seemed a bit relieved, although Nina remained silent as she joined them both, and the former rambled, "So then, now what? What do we do? Do you go next?"
"Um, who's that?" Steven pointed his finger in front. With furrowed eyebrows, Nina looked at where he was pointing at. It was a young boy. He had the same huge and hollowed eye structure as the alters before her, and he was wearing a red and white striped shirt with grey shorts and a half-sleeved jacket. There pattered a few more footsteps and with him then stood another boy who seemed to come out of the darkened area of the cafeteria and stood, his eyes trained on Nina. The boy was a little taller than the other one, and his casual outfit looked drenched throughout. The woman couldn't help but notice that he highly resembled an older version of the boy who was goofily dancing with her in memory not so long ago.
From the corner of her eyes, Nina noticed how tense Marc's being had gotten upon the sight of them. She felt warmth trickle through her hand, when Marc anxiously interlocked his fingers with hers, and only then could she see how bad his tremors were. But the way he held onto her was so much different than how Steven did. Steven's hold was rather comforting, and loving and it made her feel protected in some way. Although they shared the same hands, Marc's hold was much more tentative and scared. He held onto her in the fear that if he let go then she'd fade away. He held onto her like she was his form of life-line and strength which would help him battle through all his tribulations and face them strongly.
His hold was more like that of a lost and scared child holding onto either its guardian or a savior.
Warmth now trickled through her bicep and triceps, and apprehensive jitters filled her when his other hand slithered to the top of her hand and pulled her desperately closer to himself, his eyes still glued front.
"Marc, why is there a child in a room filled with corpses?" Steven finally asked with horror.
The Spector's breath started to speed up, his strength being broken piece by piece as he started to grovel urgently, "Steven, Steven. D-don't, don't—look, don't go near him."
Marc's breathing only sped tenfold when Nina gently removed herself from his grasp. The man started to shake his head fearfully, trying to hold onto her somehow, "No, Nina, no please—"
Nina gave him a reassuring look which merely translated to 'I'll be back'. "Nina, Steven" the man got more desperate when they ignored his pleas.
"Hello" Nina kindly waved at the older boy, "Hey, little man." Steven politely called out. Conflicted, Marc looked at both Nina and Steven, not knowing whom to stop.
"What's your name, there?" Steven tried to talk to the younger child, but he soon bolted towards the door, causing the former gift shopist to chase him, "Oh, hold on there. Wait a moment, a moment."
Marc's anxiety went into over-drive, as he started yelling a series of 'wait' before he too chased the man, leaving Nina and the younger and the taller boy who had his eyes trained on hers.
Conflicted, about whether she should go after the boys or stay behind with the kid, the woman looked at the door and the drenched child and chose the latter.
Smiling, she shrugged, "You're going to run now, too aren't you?"
As if he was waiting for her to just say that, the young guy's shoes thudded against the marble floor as he ran through the door, and Nina followed suit.
They were in another hallway now, and the more she got to the edge of it, the more she could hear Marc's desperate yells for Steven to open the door, as his fist kept banging against the door. Sooner or later, she reached the edge of the hallway and the kid went into the first door that there was. The commotion soon distracted Marc. He soon stopped his calls and harsh banging, when he caught sight of Nina who was standing near the door.
They froze like that for a few seconds, and soon Nina's eyes flickered to the door's knob by her. In a flash both she and Marc took hurried and took long strides toward the door. But before the woman could even turn the knob, her back bashed hard against the door, as Marc pinned her to it, with one hand on her wrist and the other on her waist, which soon transferred to the side of her face, as he cupped it her hands.
"Don't go, please, please don't go in there." He started to nod his head sideways desperately.
"I need to know what happened Marc," Nina told him firmly, but as soon as she tried to shove him, he pulled her in and pressed her against his chest. One hand had pushed her head towards himself whereas the other coiled around her waist, constricting her slightly but with high desperation. He kept repeating trails of whimpering 'don't go' and 'don't go in there', against the top of her head, kissing it once in a while. Nina tried to move, but the more she moved, the more his grasp tightened alongside his pleads. She lifted her head a little bit, this gave him a chance to press his forehead against hers, before he started peppering desperate kisses to whichever part of her face he could find, all the while repeating 'please'. Nina slowly yet sternly wrapped one of her palms around the knob.
She waited for the right moment, once she had fooled him by relaxing her body, making him believe that she wasn't going anywhere; Picking the right moment when he relaxed too, she pushed him away with her other palm and immediately opened and closed the door on his face.
But unlike how he was with Steven, his fists didn't pound on the door. With panting breaths and blinking eyes, the auburn-haired woman caught the translucent reflection of his downcast head against the door. The man had given up. Closing her eyes, Nina sighed, before she momentarily placed her head against the glass on the other side and against his very own. The lights of this memory room and that of the hallway contrast a great deal. With closed eyes, she murmured a reassuring "I'll be back I promise."
Soon she diverted her attention to the memory to which she wasn't quite sure whom it belonged it. It only hit her now that she was now standing in the alleyway she had seen, not so while ago.
The air was chilly, the moon and stars were bright as tiny droplets of remnant water from the fire escapes on either side of the walls kept tumbling, and some even pooled in small puddles due to the dips on the glistening ground. There pattered the same running footsteps and the curly-haired young boy was hurrying his way through the alleyway, the drenched bag on his back wiggling a great deal by his motions.
He was wearing dark-blue jeans and his white shoes had hues of sticky brown, from having stepped on a muddy puddle or two. His black raincoat had somewhat saved his shirt but his hair and face were a dripping mess. He continued walking through puddles, utterly in rush. In his hurry, he didn't seem to have noticed two older teenage boys standing against the bricked-walled exteriors. Before Nina could even warn or rescue him somehow, the taller figures made them known, having moved from the hiding spot and crowded the boy.
The curly-haired boy stopped altogether, fear evident in his wobbly legs, as he screeched his shoes taking a step back or so.
"Well if it isn't young Spector" a fourteen-year-old boy with pale-complexioned skin, and rectangular-rimmed glasses smirked evilly down at the boy.
"W-what do you want Billy?" Marc tried to sound confident, as he started to bunch his fingers tightly around the straps of his bag, all the while keeping his head down.
"Bobby here says..." he gently nudged his head towards the side and towards his darker-complexioned friend who had a buzzcut and sported a black eye and bust-lips, "that you tried beating him up in the locker room."
The boy looked up and took in the state of Robert. He mumbled an "I didn't try" to himself, although it seemed like he wasn't silent enough.
"What was that squirt?" Billy asked with a slightly raised voice, as he threateningly glared at the younger boy.
The boy just shrunk a little from fear and out of instinct. He hadn't meant to hurt Robert, he had told him multiple times to stop bothering him and to let him go. But he didn't know what had gotten into him when the older boy mentioned Roro.
"It won't happen again, I'm sorry." Marc apologized, with his head still down-casted.
"You're sure as hell it won't." Bobby chuckled darkly as he started cracking his knuckles, before turning to his friend, "Right, Billy."
"Oh yes, Bobby." He chuckled back before the pair started to walk menacingly towards the young Spector, who continued taking fearful steps backward. The boy kept gulping, apologizing, and asking them to let go of him, that it won't happen again but it was of no use. Nina flinched a bit, helpless in her spot when the boy tripped over on a piece of garbage and fell hard on his butt. He kept crawling away backward. He put both his hands in front of his face and screwed his eyes shut when he watched Bobby come forward to throw a punch.
As if it was a dire twist of fate, the punch never came.
There was a loud ZOOP! Sound and Robert moaned and yelped in great pain when something sharp landed straight on his head. Billy too yelped when another stone dropped on his head.
"What the—" the glasses-bearing boy trailed off as he looked upwards and on top of one of the fire-escape protruding the first floor, which was the place he had felt the rock falling on him. But the moment he looked upwards, another flew right into his spectacle with such a speed that it cracked one of the glasses and sent the shards right into his eyes, making him a screeching mess. Soon Robert got many rocks hit on his head.
The hitting got too much, which only caused the teenage boys to run for their life. Billy murmured, "I'll get you Spector" before bolting towards the other side of the alley.
Marc was still on the ground and his eyes were still screwed shut. With closed eyes, he furrowed his eyebrows a great deal when he heard shoes skidding away and Billy's departing. He slowly started to open his eyes. But when he did he came face to face with the sight of the full moon in the sky, which soon got replaced by a silhouette of a female figure with short hair. The moon's glow around her head resembled that of a halo around an angel's head.
In a way, she was an angel to him, an angel who saved his life. And an angel who seemed as old as him, an angel who was wearing a psych ward nightgown,
And an angel who had the word 'Morton' printed on the top of her chest.