"So, this Mogart guy. He's really gonna have this sarcophagus?" Marc asked, and you nodded.
"100%. Mogart's collection is prime gossip for those who deal in antiquities. And luckily, we have our very own gossip girl."
"Layla," Marc said quietly. You nodded.
The name El-Faouly; more specifically, Layla's surname, was a dangerous one to have in a place like Cairo. Granted she'd helped taint it in the first place, but to avoid danger she'd stayed in the UK and sent you and Marc all the information you would need to find an alternative path to Ammit's tomb. At least, that's what she told Marc. When you could have sworn you spotted her in Cairo, she made you promise not to tell him, and that she would always be close by to help if and when you needed it.
The two of you kept quiet for the majority of the boat ride you were on to Mogart's exclusive party. At one point you yawned and Marc switched from sitting opposite you to next to you, angling himself so that you could use his shoulder as a pillow.
"You okay baby?" he mumbled, arms wrapping around you. You tapped his arms responsively, letting out an appreciative hum when he softly kissed your neck, pressing his lips slowly up to your jaw, and then settling his head atop yours to watch Cairo go by.
Your mind wandered. You wondered what Donna was doing right now without her two best employees. Probably not something nearly as exciting.
Eventually you got to the shore, where acres of private land encapsulated a giant mansion. A party was in full swing with hundreds of attendants.
"This guy's got a lot of friends," Marc commented, offering you a hand to get off the rocky boat.
"Yeah, and a lot with guns," you worried. Marc pulled your arm through his, patting it gently, and led you quickly up the dock into the darkness of the trees. You looked behind you. A second boat with a group of men trawling just off shore. "Harrow's men keeping tabs?"
"I don't know. It could be," he said. "Let's go." The two of you strolled confidently into the party.
"Remember, your name is Rufino Estrada," you whispered to him.
"Right."
"We just got back from our honeymoon in the Maldives."
"That's an interesting little detail to give to them."
"I'd tell them you worked at a gift shop, but they'd never believe me, would they?" you chuckled. "That a problem?"
"No." Marc looked at you with a smirk. "I'd take you somewhere much better than the Maldives." You didn't know how to respond to his half serious jest, so settled for shoving his shoulder with a laugh as the two of you walked towards a sandy jousting arena. Before you could get close, a security guard put out his hand, and whilst Marc acted with hostility, you plastered a warm smile across your face.
"I'm y/n," you introduced, holding out your hand for him to shake, and show you held no weapons. "Representative of Layla El-Faouly."
The guard nodded, the frown lines on his face fading as he took your hand.
"I'm Bek," he introduced. "Mr Mogart's looking forward to seeing you. He will be with you shortly."
Bek walked off an Marc eyed him unhappily. He hadn't been pleased with you putting yourself in the firing line for this mission, but Yatzil had given you the hint, Layla had given you the location, and you wanted to prove to Marc that you knew what you were doing. That you were worth being here.
"So what?" Marc asked, crossing his arms as Mogart's horse cantered up to the opposite side of the fence, the powerful Frenchman sitting atop. "This joker just puts on El-Mermah games in his backyard, for fun?"
"Y/n, come in," Mogart offered as he slid off his horse and wrapped a robe around his otherwise scarcely clothed body. You and Marc walked through the arena to meet him. "Such a delight to meet you."
"You, too," you said, trying not to pull away as he kissed the back of your hand. "Thank you for having us over on such short notice."
"Oh, please. I hope you realize you need no excuse to drop by. Any friend of Layla's is a friend of mine."
You nodded, and stood slightly to the side to introduce Marc. "This is my husband, Rufino."
"Nice to meet you," Marc said unconvincingly.
"Pleasure," Mogart said, although his face said otherwise as he encouraged the two of you to walk beside him. "I hope you understand this is more than a collection to me. Preserving history is a responsibility I take very seriously."
"A self-appointed responsibility that you alone were able to enjoy, no?" Marc accused as the three of you walked towards a glass pyramid that housed his artefacts.
"Well, I prefer to see it as a philanthropic effort at preservation," Mogart responded coldly, and you sighed. Marc was on the offensive, and there was no stopping that. "Now, if I may ask, why such interest in Senfu in particular?"
"Oh, actually, our purchases are--"
"--I'm sorry. I'd like to hear from your husband, if you don't mind."
Marc wasn't as well prepared as you'd hoped. "Oh. I think that... I think I just would love to take a look."
"Feel free," Mogart said suspiciously, waving his hands towards his collection.
You grabbed Marc's hand before he could walk inside. "I don't doubt you, but please, just let Steven out before you blow this."
Marc pulled his hand away. "Not a chance." It was your turn to scowl at him. Steven was so much more knowledgeable than you or him would ever be, but Marc was even more stubborn.
"All right, what do you see?" he asked.
"Well," you said, running your fingers lightly across the sarcophagus. "The burial practices are in line with the Studenwachen texts."
"The what?"
"It's legit," you simplified. "But all I'm seeing is literature to guide the dead. There's no location indicated."
"Because the information has to be unlocked," Steven said suddenly. He'd been quiet a long while and you'd begun to worry. You smiled at his reflection. "It's coded."
"Okay, um... Will you give me a minute?" Marc asked you. "I gotta talk to Steven... Just keep him occupied."
You sighed and wandered out of the pyramid shaped museum. Mogart raised his eyebrows at you.
"He just needs a couple minutes in there alone..." you trailed off as you looked back to see him talking furiously to Steven. "Yeah. He is... He's praying."
You wandered to the other side of Mogart, so his attention would be drawn to you as the two of you watched the party continue, but you didn't bet on his security guard coming back.
"What are you doing?" Bek asked Marc as he saw him fiddling with something in the sarcophagus.
"Marc! Don't!" You cried, knowing what he would do. He spun around, yanking the gun out of Bek's hand, and immediately, one of Mogart's men had a gun pressed to your temple as Marc trained his on Bek. You gulped. It was a position you'd never been in.
"Shit," Marc said, angry that the two of you had been caught out, but seeing your panic, and he passed back the gun to Bek.
"Do you really think I'm an idiot?" Mogart scoffed, walking slowly towards him. "Get on your knees."
"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."