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damn-stark · 2 years

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Chapter 2 Isn’t it strange?

Chapter 2 of Moon Star

A/N- Thanks for all the love and support on the first chapter :)

Warning- Violence, blood and weapons, angst, fluff?

Pairing- Marc Spector x daughter!reader

Episode- 1x03 & (the beginning of) 1x04

————

*6 YEARS AGO. CHICAGO*

“Okay, I’ve thought of it,” you interject happily. “I want to go live with you. I want to take a gap year after high school.”

The breeze was chilly, the night was clear, letting the stars, and the moon in its full phase shine brightly from the dark sky. Yellow lights basked the park's paved path, and the smell of sweet cinnamon swirled in your nose as you held a cinnamon pretzel in hand.

“But—”

“I know,” you cut your father off and meet his gaze as he glances over at you with uncertainty. “I know what you’re dedicated to dad, but I don’t care. I mean It’s kinda cool,” you giggle. “You’re like a…hero.”

Marc scoffs and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t call it that,” he murmurs and averts his gaze.

You shrug softly. “You have a cloak,” you quip. “Hero.”

“That God that came to earth, Loki, also had a cloak, he wanted to rule us,” your dad argues. “He was evil.”

You shake your head. “No, pa, that was more of a cape,” you argue.

He tilts his head and squints his eyes as he sucks in air through his teeth. “Was it?”

You nod and blurt. “Yes! You have a cloak okay?” You jump and drop cinnamon sugar all over your hand. “It’s a cloak, I said so. Just like I say you’re a hero! Because Khonshu is into justice, punishing the ones who did wrong already. Hero.”

Your dad sighs and nods as he can’t help but smile. “Fine, but I think you’re the only one who’s gonna think that.”

You shrug and grin. “I am okay with that. Makes me special.”

Your dad looks up at you and smiles wider.

“So?” You press. “Can I go live with you?”

His smile begins to fade away, his eyes fall, and he swallows thickly whilst he comes to a stop towards the end of the path that’s near the parking lot. You mirror his actions and wait in silence.

“First,” he adds. “I need to tell you something. Something about me.”

You tilt your head just slightly and squint your eyes as you grow curious in your wait.

Your dad looks up at you to meet your gaze all seriously and upset. “I have—”

Before he can finish his sentence though he cuts himself off as he throws his arms around you and shoves you to the ground the moment a car comes flying through the park, ending up crashing in a tree close to where you were both just standing.

“What the hell?” You gasp in shock as your dad helps you off the ground.

“Stay here,” your dad instructs as he turns to walk towards the car crashed into the tree with smoke coming out of its completely obliterated hood.

Regardless of what he just said you slowly follow him towards the car, noticing the broken window and a conscious passenger, but no driver.

There wasn’t a driver inside.

“Help me!” The passenger yells when they notice your dad approaching. “Please! My husband he just, oh god! Oh my god!”

Your dad throws his hand out and begins to run towards the passenger. “I’m coming! I’m going to help!” He exclaims.

However, once your dad reaches the door, you stop in your tracks as the passenger inside suddenly begins to turn to dust.

“What the—” your dad mutters.

The passenger reaches out for help from your dad, he tries to speak but then all of him just disappears.

“Pa, what’s going on?!” You yell in between pants.

He doesn’t turn, he begins to talk to himself—or really the God you can’t see, so you wait in horror over what just happened to those people.

However, as you wait, all of sudden you catch your pretzel fall to the floor without you feeling it. As you begin to look down to try and find the reason why it suddenly dropped, you see your hand beginning to disappear, to turn to dust.

It doesn’t hurt, but seeing yourself vanishing begins to freak you out more than you already were. You could hardly breathe now, hardly hear anything with how fast your heart was beating. But you did know who to call for, the man that brought you comfort and safety.

“Dad?” You call in a quivering voice.

He looks over and immediately his eyes widen and he doesn’t fret to break into a sprint towards you as you continue to turn to dust.

“Pa,” you cry as you’re unable to hold back your fear and the tears that ensued. “I’m scared. Please, please.”

He grabs your shoulder with one hand, whilst with the other one he grabs your cheek as he shakes his head in denial. “No, no, just, I’m going to help—Khonshu!” He bellows. “Baby,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Nothing stops what was happening though, you’re vanishing; your arm is gone, your legs are disappearing, making you fall. Luckily your dad catches you and crouches down with you.

“No,” he sneers. “No. Y/N, just….”

You hold his gaze and see tears in his eyes, and that’s when you feel a sudden wave of comfort; being in his arms, holding his warm brown eyes. You were no longer scared. You smile even if it’s wobbly

“I love you,” you whisper and grab his cheek. “I'm glad you’re my—“

“No, stop it,” he cuts you off with tears rolling down his cheeks.

You try to wipe them off, but your hand begins to disappear now too.

“Don’t say it,” he whispers and tries to cradle your face. “Baby…”

And you were gone, all he held onto was dust, all he felt was the sugar grains on his cheeks that had been stuck to your hand.

You were gone.

He couldn’t—he didn’t want to believe it, he didn’t want to accept that he couldn’t save you. He didn’t want to believe you were gone. Even if the truth was clear, even if he couldn’t change it, he didn’t want to….

But he had to. That made him break.

He broke into a grief and pain stricken sob as he held onto the dust still on his hands.

Anger then overwhelmed him too, so much so that he began to smack his hands against the cement until they were red and raw, until there was nothing but scrapes on his hands.

And then in the midst of it all he was gone too, he escaped his pain and let another come through.

——

*NOW. CAIRO EGYPT*

“Okay….he’s…now he’s less than a quarter of a mile to the east. We’re close,” you say and look from your phone in hopes you’d see a glimpse of him, of his hair, his face, or his eyes. But no, there were too many people crowded in the streets of Cairo to see him right away.

“Come on, stay close,” Layla intructs as you both swerve past bodies of people to follow the tracker you had on Marc.

You scoff. “How do you think he’ll react?” You ask her.

“Anger,” she responds right away.

You laugh and nod.

“Look, he’s—”

Her words albeit get lost in the breeze as the sight of a clothes stand nearby steals your attention—more specially a particular jacket on display.

When you rush over there you instantly fall in love and can’t help but swindle the man into giving it to you for cheaper. Sure you disobeyed Layla for something insignificant, but on the bright side even if you had broken away from Layla’s side it wasn’t hard to find her again, using the tracker led you right to her and Marc.

“Layla,” you make yourself known with excitement.

Said woman looks past Marc’s shoulder, and Marc slowly turns to face you and instantly groans and shakes his head at the sight of you.

“Great, you brought her too,” he mutters without the accent.

As much as his words stung, you ignore him and smile at Layla as you put your hands out. “Look at my jacket. I just got it. Like, just now.”

Layla nods. “I see that. After I told you to stay close.”

You flick your wrist down to brush off her concern. “Look. The sleeves huh,” you point out as you rub the black sleeves. “The many pockets to hide stuff,” you point to the pockets on your sleeves and on the dark green torso part of the jacket. “And watch this,” you pause and put on the hood before connecting the mask that went over your nose and mouth. “For the sand! I got it for super cheap too.”

“What are you doing here, y/n?” Marc asks and crushes your excitement.

You pull down the mask and scoff. “I’m here with Layla,” you spat. “Marc? Or Steven?” You point as you fold your arms over your chest. “Who am I talking to? Or are you pretending to be someone new?”

Marc sighs deeply and turns his head to face Layla. “Layla, explain to me why you brought my daughter with you?”

Of course he’s ignoring you now.

“Your daughter,” Layla clarifies in your defense. “Is 19 now, Marc, she can do whatever it is she wants.”

“But if you’re so concerned,” you interject and walk over to face him. “I’m here for Layla. To help her. So save whatever fatherly concern you suddenly feel. Also,” you sigh. “I’m going to need my tracker back. It’s still a work in progress.”

Marc eyebrows furrow and he slightly narrows his gaze in confusion. “Tracker? What tracker?

You roll your eyes in annoyance and reach behind his ear to pull the tiny tracker you had managed to tuck when helping “Steven” try and calm down.

“This tracker,” you say and show off the tiny tracker that looked almost like an earring bud. “Undetectable against airport technology and new metal detectors.” You put it away in your bag and smile with pride. “I’m working on the kinks. But hey, it tracked you all the way over here without you feeling it, so it works nicely even if it’s made out of scrap materials.”

Marc’s scowl falls and his lips begin to lift to a smile, but you don’t get to fully see it since you look away and Layla interrupts.

“Come with us, we’ll help you find what you need.”

You don’t add anything else, nor do you let him tell you anything in any regard, you stay close to Layla and make it known you don’t wish to talk to him. Not like there was a lot to add from either of you besides, Mogart, Layla’s contact that knows about what Marc is looking for, Senfu’s sarcophagus.

It's a ways away from where you were, in some property past some river. And the entire way to the river was painfully quiet, there was some conversation, mostly between Layla and you but since Marc was close, you didn’t feel like talking much. It’s just that he…he angers you, he makes you furious over old reasons, and over the fact that he hasn’t tried to explain himself about this Steven character. It’s like he expects you to know already, to piece it together on your own instead of simply explaining it, instead of telling you.

Is it so hard? It was so easy before, talking to one another. There were ups and downs of course, but you liked to think that you had a good relationship, you understood him and his job. But now after coming back, he’s like a completely different person. When you look at him, you see your dad, you recognize his face, but everything about him is new, he’s a stranger full of anger.

Unbeknownst to you though, he was trying. He would think of things to say in his own way, things that feel right, things he knew you wanted to hear, a genuine apology and a good ass explanation. But as he looks at you, as he watches as you listen to music while you try to nod to sleep with the rocking of the boat, he couldn’t work up the courage even if he had it all planned.

It’s just…if Khonshu got to you because of him, because he got close to you again, he wouldn’t forgive himself. It seems it’s too late to avoid getting you in harm's way, but he wouldn’t permit Khonshu to make you his next avatar. No matter how much the distance hurt him, not even if Layla was trying to encourage him with pointed looks to say anything to you.

Yet that only hurts you a hundred times more, the avoidance. Even if you have music playing in your earphones to pass the time, you don’t have it loud enough to block out the conversation between Layla and Marc. You hear him, the kind things he says to her. “I am sorry for whatever that’s worth.”

You stiffen and your breath trembles, you try not to but you can’t help but look over at your father, in pain, in betrayal. You watch him, you see his sincerity and it hurts.

That’s what you wanted to hear, all of it. It’s that simple. You wouldn’t hold a grudge for him missing your graduation, or for not calling you when your grandmother died because you knew about their strained relationship, you wouldn’t hold a grudge about anything. But he didn’t even look at you. It’s like you weren’t there to him.

“So, this Mogart guy. He’s really gonna have this sarcophagus?” He asks Layla.

“Yes,” Layla assures him. “I asked around. Mogart’s collection is prime gossip for those of us who deal in antiquities.”

Their conversation comes to a halt and they drift to personal stuff as the music from the other passengers gets louder and someone begins ululating.

You try not to listen in, but you can’t help yourself, or the jealousy that begins to ignite within.

“You could’ve told me. You know. What’s its been like for you. About Steven.” Layla says, making you glance over at Marc, and notcing him avert his gaze for a moment before focusing back on her and interjecting.

“For what it’s worth I had it under control until very recently.”

You glance back at your phone and listen to Layla question him. “What happened?”

“I-it doesn’t matter,” he tries to dismiss her, but she leans forward and grabs his hands. “We could’ve handled it together.”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

You clench your jaw and let out a deep breath. You hide well.

“That’s not really what I do, is it?” He continues. “Never really been able to just talk about everything.”

“Anything real?” She questions and he nods in agreement.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have.” Layla says.

Marc nods and ends up pushing her hands away. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe. A little too late for that now, though.” He pulls away from her, and you watch him look away and just go cold. And honestly their distance makes you happy.

It sounds vain, selfish perhaps, but it’s an honest truth.

“Okay, let’s get our story straight. Y/N.”

You pretend to not hear right away so it doesn’t seem like you were listening in.

He proceeds to lean over and nudges your knee, and you finally pretend to give him your attention. “What?” You lower the earphones from your ears and look between him and Layla.

“We’re discussing our cover,” he lets you know.

You sigh and nod along in comprehension. “Okay.” You blink and begin to smile. “Can I pick my own cover?” You meet Layla's gaze and wiggle your eyebrows.

Layla purses her lips together and shakes her head. “Sorry, kid, I already have a cover for you,” she lets you down.

You groan deeply and sink in your seat.

“Your name is y/n Estrada.” She lets you know, and you groan again.

“I keep my own name, how boring,” you grumble.

She shrugs nonchalantly and looks at Marc. “You’re Rufino Estrada. We just got married and we just got back from our very first family trip to the Maldives.”

Marc nods along and you throw her a thumbs up since you have no other choice.

“And,” Marc says and looks over at you. “Listen to me, Wolfie, you stick by me the entire time, got it?”

You meet his gaze with nonchalance and scoff. “I can protect myself,” you rebuttal. “I don’t need you to protect me. I made sure of that.”

Marc gets ready to argue back, but you scoff and tear your eyes away and make it known that the conversation was over between him and you.

“You got all your weapons?” Layla directs at you.

You look over at her and pat your pockets before shaking your bracelet with a smile. “Got it. Small pockets,” you show off. “Useful.”

“Okay,” Marc interjects. “We’re almost there get your bags.”

You duck down and pull your backpack from under your seat, feeling your phone vibrate in the meanwhile.

It’s probably just your grandfather Elias, you think at first. As you pick up the phone to check, you grow wary as you see that it’s not actually your grandfather, but an Unknown ID.

Weird.

You unlock the phone and pull down the notification bar to read the message.

Unknown

Does texting first earn me a name?

Oh—oh my god. Oh.

You turn off the phone and drop it back on your lap to stare off at the water ahead of you. You try not to get excited but it’s late, you read it, you know it’s Spider-Man, you can’t stop the butterflies from fluttering or your heart from racing because that’s close to what you said to him.

It’s him!

“Oh my god!” You exclaim as you’re unable to contain your excitement, causing Layla and Marc to instantly look over at you in confusion. “Ah!” You giggle and jump up to your feet.

“Okay,” you breathe out and face Layla. “Remember the job we did in New York the other day?”

Layla slightly narrows her gaze and nods.

“Well,” you continue and briefly cover your mouth before clenching your fist and dropping your hand. “I might’ve given Spider-Man my number and he totally just texted me!”

“Spider-Man?” Marc mumbles.

“Spider-Man?” Layla retorts in disbelief.

You nod. “Yes! Spider-Man!”

“Are you going to text him back?” She asks. “Text him. Go for it,” she encourages you.

Yet someone isn’t as thrilled.

“You don’t even know him,” Marc complains. “What if he’s some old man? A real weirdo.”

You scoff. “And what if he’s like…” you pause and realize that you’re talking to your father so you just sigh and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. And,” you point at Layla. “I will, but not yet, I don’t want to sound desperate. If he’s interested he won’t care if I let him wait.” You smile happily and sit back down even if the boat is about to dock.

And just as the boat comes to a stop and you let everyone else get down first, your phone begins to ring.

“Oh, fuck,” you blurt and turn your phone away. “It’s ringing—” you swallow thickly and feel your heart pound faster. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Don’t answer,” Marc grumbles.

Without a second thought you hand your phone to Layla. “Tell me who it is,” you mutter rapidly.

Layla chuckles at you and grabs your phone to check the caller ID. “Not who you think,” She reveals and hands you back the phone.

You grab it and once you read that it’s your grandfather you let out a frustrated sigh. Nevertheless you answer as you stand back once everyone on the boat is off.

“Hello,” you greet more calmly and watch Marc get off first.

“Y/N, honey,” your grandfather responds with happiness. “Just checking up on you.”

You smile and hand Marc your backpack so he can hide it under the dock before you climb out of the boat, whilst you respond. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t call, I’ve been busy. But we’ve got our hotel now, and we’re out…exploring,” you lie so he wouldn’t worry.

“That’s good,” he says. “I’ll keep it brief then so you can get back. Wear sunscreen, keep your head covered so you don’t overheat, drink lots of water…”

You giggle and peer over your shoulder to make sure Layla was off the boat now—which she is.

“And take lots of pictures,” he finishes.

You nod even if he can’t see it and begin to walk away from the dock, knowing Layla and Marc were right behind you. “Okay,” you say. “I will. I hope you’re doing okay.”

“I am, don’t worry about me.” He assures you.

You sigh and smile softly but feel bad you had left him all alone. “I’ll call tomorrow, or I’ll text you, okay?“

“Okay. I love you.” He says.

You grin at the phone. “I love you too, have a good day”

“I will, don’t be scared to call whatever time, my phone is always on.” He continues to assure you.

You nod. “Okay,” you assure him. “I love you. Bye.”

“Bye,” he responds and hangs up, letting you put your phone away, and getting an immediate reaction.

“Who was that?” Marc asks.

You side eye him since he’s walking at your side and scoff. “My grandpa Elias,” you reveal bitterly. “Unlike you he actually tries to check up on me everyday.” You roll your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

Marc drops his head and nods as he licks his lips and sighs deeply out of his nose. “Okay, I get it you’re upset—”

“No,” you cut him off and don’t bother to look at him. “Don’t give me some shitty ass apology now. Let’s focus on the job.”

Marc goes quiet and nods stiffly, and you slow down your pace to end up walking behind him and Layla as you begin to approach the ring where there’s security guarding, and men playing El-Mermah inside.

“Bek,” Layla greets a tall man in a fancy dark suit.

“Layla,” the man greets and takes a look at Marc, and then at you behind them.

“It’s been a while,” she says as they shake hands.

“Good to see you,” he says.

“Yeah.”

He pulls away and begins to turn. “Right this way,” he says and leads the way to the ring, making Layla and Marc hold hands to make the cover believable.

Albeit you know it’s not just for cover.

“He’s looking forward to seeing you,” Bek adds. “After Madripoor I’m sure you two will have a lot to talk about. Excuse me for one moment,” he excuses himself as he brings you to stop in front of the ring. “Mr. Mogart will be with you shortly.”

Once the man is gone you approach the ring, and prop your arms on the fence to lean forward and watch with interest as a shirtless man rides around in his white horse.

“So what?” Marc interjects. “This joker just puts on El-Marmah games in his backyard, for fun?”

He can if he wants to, you think to yourself as you watch him with a sly smirk.

“No, he gets private lessons by the best in his backyard,” Layla corrects Marc, whilst you see as the man brings his beautiful white horse to a stop to hop off and get his fancy red robe put on him.

There’s just something about hot older men that have a way to just turn you on. Mr. Mogart definitely is one of those men.

“Cool,” Marc comments. “I like the robe.”

“Layla,” Mr. Mogart addresses her with a charming smile. “Come in.”

Layla leads the way, and Marc and you follow after her.

“Such a delight to see you,” he continues.

“You too,” Layla says.

“How have you been?” He asks as he takes her hand so elegantly.

“Good,” Layla responds as Mogart presses a kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you for having us over on such short notice.” She pulls her hand away and the man does not drop his smile.

“Oh, please,” he assures her. “I hope you realize you need no excuse to drop by.”

Layla then proceeds to turn to Marc and pats his shoulder to introduce him, causing Mogart to look over at him as she did. “This is my husband, Rufino.”

“Nice to meet you,” Marc responds and offers Mogart his hand.

“Pleasure. Oh right,” the man mutters and wipes his hands on his robe to shake Marc’s hand.

“And that’s my step-daughter,” Layla points to you as you stand beside Marc. “Y/N.”

The man steps away from Marc and offers you a much kinder and much more charming smile than the one he offered Marc.

“Hello, it’s nice meeting you,” you greet with a smile of your own.

And as you stretch out your hand Mogart takes it and leans down to press a kiss on your knuckles. “Delight,” he says, causing you to smile wider and hold his gaze.

Meanwhile, Marc beside you was slowly furrowing his eyebrows and trying not to pierce daggers into the man with his glare.

“I hope you understand this is more than a collection to me,” Mogart tells Layla as he lets you go and turns to walk you away from the ring. “Preserving history is a responsibility I take very seriously.”

Layla sighs. “A self-appointed responsibility that you alone were able to enjoy, no?” She asks.

And once you walk out of the ring with Mogart, the men that were inside continue with their game.

“Well,” Mogart answers. “I prefer to see it as a philanthropic effort at preservation. Now if I may ask, why such interest in Senfu in particular?” He asks as he brings you to stop in front of a small glass pyramid that has what Marc is looking for inside.

“Oh, actually our purchases are—”

“I’m sorry,” Mogart cuts Layla off before she can finish her explanation. “I’d like to hear from your husband, if you don’t mind.”

He’s playing with her.

Marc hums, and Mogart hums in agreement as he folds his arms over his chest and waits.

“I think that…” Marc begins to say. “But I think I just would love to take a look.”

Mogart keeps quiet for a moment before commenting, “funny man.”

You keep your gaze on him for a moment to try and figure him out, to try and read what he’s playing at, but you get interrupted by Layla grabbing your arm to pull you inside the pyramid.

“Please, just let Steven out before you blow this,” Layla tells Marc as you walk to Senfu.

“Not a chance,” Marc retorts. “All right, what do you see?”

You begin to walk around as you study the sarcophagus, noticing text carved on the wood.

“Well,” Layla answers before you can. “The burial practices are in line with the Studenwachen texts.”

“The what?” Marc questions.

“It’s legit,” you answer as you come to stop to look inside, noticing something over the corpse.

“But all I see is literature to guide the dead,” Layla adds. “There’s no location indicated.”

You sigh and point to the dark material within. “Don’t think it’d be that easy. Must be uh, coded or something, right, with this?”

“Okay, uh,” Marc cuts in. “Will you guys give me a minute? I gotta talk to Steven…just keep him occupied.”

So it is real. Is it? This Steven character.

Nevertheless, after some hesitance you end up trusting him and walk off with Layla to rejoin the men watching from the outside.

“He just needs a couple minutes in there alone,” Layla tries to explain. The guard tries to walk in, but she grabs his arm and pulls him back. “Please, yeah. He is…he’s praying,” she excuses his actions.

When you look over you see him talking to himself with his back turned, so you understand why it’d look weird, why the guard continues watching him without as much as listening to what Layla has to say. Nor does Mogart actually pay any attention to her or you whatsoever anymore.

Furthermore, before you the guard doesn’t wait and departs from the group.

“Wait,” you try to stop him, but he doesn’t stop, he walks in the pyramid.

When you go in after him he immediately pulls out his gun. “What are you doing?” He demands to know from Marc.

You try to pull apart your bracelets but as Marc hears, he instantly turns and manages to steal the gun and point it at the guard instead, causing more guards to point guns at both Layla and you in retaliation, and forcing you to stop from grabbing your own weapons.

“Marc!” Layla exclaims, “don’t.”

Said man looks over and his eyes widen as he sees what unfolded.

“Shit,” he hisses and hands the guard his gun back, letting one guard point at both Layla and you so he the other could walk over to Marc, before finally letting Mogart walk in after Marc.

“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” Mogart spats. “Get on your knees.”

“Anton, stop!” Layla tries to talk him down.

But Mogart ignores her. “Get on your knees,” he repeats himself. And to your surprise Marc does as he’s told—“Layla,” Mogart says and looks back at her. “I was so ready to make peace with you.”

The guard behind you nudges both Layla and you inside with his gun high, causing you to peer back and glare at him.

“You don’t understand,” Layla rebuttals. “We’re trying to save many lives.”

There’s four guards in here with guns, Mogart is too pretty to be holding anything, so it’s just the four guns. You have weapons, Layla also has her own daggers, and Marc has the suit so it can be manageable, you can take ‘em together if you try.

“Hey, pal,” Marc interjects. “Take a look inside the sarcophagus.” Marc points his head to said object. “There’s somethin’ really, really big.”

Mogart slowly gets closer, but his guard then walks to him and whispers something in his ear that makes him turn to look at the three of you.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Mogart says a bit smugly. “It appears we have a concerned third party here.” He begins to walk out now. “Get up.” He orders Marc

Said man does as he’s told, and as you all get walked out, there walking towards you is the same older gentleman from before, Arthur Harrow Marc said his name was.

“Whatever they’ve told you,” he adds. “I’m sure I can offer you something much more tangible.”

Sure just like how he offered that poor old man food and shelter only to kill him. So much for justice. He’s nothing but an evil old man.

Regardless, Harrow shows off the scarab in his hand. “Why settle for a clue when you have the treasure,” he continues to try and convince Mogart.

“Anton,” Layla tries to talk to him. “Anton, don’t listen to this man. He’s trying to stop us from reaching—”

“Please, stop,” Mogart cuts her off as he turns swiftly to point at her.

“He’s gonna kill millions, trust her!” You exclaim out of annoyance that he was being so ignorant.

Mogart glances at you and then glares at Layla. “Do you seriously want me to trust you, Layla?”

“Please,” Harrow interrupts, making you groan—“there’s no need to descend into violent accusations. Each one of you has so much more in common than you know. Layla, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds from your fathers murder from reopening. But something stands in your way. Your husband doesn’t tell you the truth.”

You look between Layla and Marc in confusion and worry, hoping that what this man was talking about was out of his ass to just turn them against each other.

“And Marc,” Harrow continues to say and creates more tension. “You don’t tell her because you know if you do, she’ll see you exactly as you see yourself, as unworthy of love.”

“You piece of shit—”

“You distance yourself from your daughter,” Harrow cuts him off, making your breath catch and your eyes narrow. “In hopes that will keep her safe from that within, when reality that’s not what will destroy her, but yourself.” His eyes slide to you and he tilts his head. “And you, you use violence to silence the pain your father caused, but there's also a small part of you that enjoys it. That control. Just like him.”

The balls on this man.

You scoff and narrow your glare on him. “You fucking piece of shit,” you grumble, but he just ingores you and turns to Mogart.

“Anton,” he says and lifts his cane that begins to glow purple once again. Just like last time. “The lore surrounding these relics, I offer proof that it’s real.” He begins to walk ahead and continues to speak. “This sarcophagus does not belong to anyone.”

Suddenly as the man stops speaking the lights around begin to flicker, and the breeze begins to pick up.

“Anton,” Harrow speaks, “would you like to see for yourself?”

“Yes. I do.”

Mogart’s response let’s Harrow begin to chant, it makes the wind blow harder, the lights flicker with more urgency it seems, and that purple hue begins to grow brighter and surrounds the sarcophagus before destroying it.

“That's just a taste of the godly power I offer.” Harrow says as he continues to walk away.

Nevertheless, it’s while you were busy focusing on what was happening around you that you don’t notice Marc disappear until people from within the ring point it out.

However, you don’t lose him for long because as you look up at what stands on top of a glass pyramid, you see Marc in his suit.

He’s there, looking down at everyone, and you can’t help but smile.

Nevertheless, since everyone else sees him, Mogart is taken away, the guards around you lift their guns to shoot. But Marc quickly throws one dagger and takes out the guard by Layla, leaving the one still pointing his gun at you.

It seems that Marc is going to jump down and attack him that way, but the man instead hooks his arm around your throat and presses his gun at your head. “I will shoot her!” He bellows and begins to step back.

Marc lands on the ground and pulls out two more crescent moon daggers, whilst Layla begins to approach with a gun she grabs from the ground.

“Back off!” The guard yells at Layla and points his gun at her too, making Layla stop in her tracks.

“Please,” you feign a shaky voice and slowly begin to raise your hands in the air. “Please let me go.”

“Tell him to—”

Before he can finish his demands you flip the blade hidden in your ring and stab his jaw, making him groan and step back as he grabs his bleeding wound. You then spin around and kick him in the gut before pulling out the dagger from your bracelet and slicing his throat.

When the man falls you pick his gun off the ground, and then turn to see Marc’s glowing white eyes slightly widened.

“G-Cool,” he stammers.

You shoot him a smirk before you catch a line of guards approaching from the ring. When Layla notices she grabs your hand and pulls you towards Marc as he pulls his cloak around the both of you as the bullets fire…without as much as making a hole.

“Buy me some time,” Layla tells Marc.

Said man, without hesitation assures her, “I can do that.”

He then pulls away and twirls around to throw daggers at most of them out of his cape, before throwing his crescent daggers at the stragglers, leaving you in awe.

Layla then tries to take you with her, but you pull your hand away from her grip and shake your head. “No,” you protest. “Go, I'll stay here with him.”

Layla tries to argue but you turn away before she can and follow after Marc.

“What are you doing?!” He shouts when he notices you.

You lift your earphones and put them in your ears. “Helping,” you retort. You then turn your music on before jumping over the fence and throwing out a small explosive at the group of approaching guards, whilst Marc takes down more by himself.

Of course before you vanished into nothing but a pile of dust, Marc told you about his alter ego Moon Knight, who was brought thanks to Khonshu. But you never got to witness his capabilities. Marc always tried to tell you but stories aren’t the same as actually witnessing it for yourself. And now that you see him you can’t help but feel that same awe you felt when he’d tell you.

It’s not something you wouldn’t tell him though. Not anymore. Nor will you let him catch the awe on your face, so before he can see any sort of reaction, you use your gun and shoot at two approaching men, before Marc covers you and throws daggers at the other two that began to shoot.

More come from behind so you break away from Marc and pick up a spear from the ground to hurl it one before throwing a paralyzing gadget at the other three. One man tries to sneak up behind you, but you catch a glimpse of him and throw your elbow back on his nose before twirling around and slamming your bracelet on his neck to electrocute him, before using your ring to cut his throat.

As he falls to the ground you turn and see that Marc is getting overwhelmed, even more guards come out from who knows where and all continue to try to surround him, and you. Mostly him, so you look around for something else to use to help him, and actually see a horse someone abandoned still tied at a pole by the fence.

Alas, on your run to the horse one guy tries to rush you, while another tries to shoot you. But the one with the gun out gets a crescent dagger thrown to his chest, letting you use the gun to shoot at the one running at you.

After that you make it to the horse without an obstacle, but the horse gets spooked, and when it sees you approach it exclaims and jumps up on its back legs.

“It’s okay,” you try to assure the horse and throw your hands out. “Shh, it’s okay, I just…want to help,” you continue and slowly step towards the rope.

The horse gets back on all fours but fidgets. Yet it doesn’t try to kick you when you untie it, it stays put and lets you approach it—“that’s a good horse,” you whisper and brush your hand on its side before climbing on. “Now, let’s go take out those bad men.”

A smirk plays on your lips, and as you get the horse to run forward, as you feel the breeze on your face, you begin to grin and keep your eyes on Marc, and those guards who wants to kill you both. As you approach the spear you hurled at one guard, you throw your hand out and grab it, but as you try to pull it out of his body as the horse runs ahead, you almost get your arm ripped out of your freaking socket.

“Oh by the—fuck,” you grumble and roll your shoulder back. “Mother fuck—”

Nevertheless, you brush your pain aside and make the horse run faster. As you approach Marc, you lift your arm and smirk mischievously before you throw it at the man he had behind him.

Marc tries to look over as he notices but another guard tries to take him from the front and distracts him. So you nonetheless have your back turned to him as the horse continues forward. When you turn, you see Marc in a different outfit, in the plain white suit.

“All right, time out!” He shouts in the british accent—Steven. “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…” Before he can finish, his spear gets thrown at his back. Another man on a horse comes racing past you and stabs another spear in him.

When you get close to him again he suddenly changes again and he’s in his previous outfit with the cloak on.

You would’ve asked why the sudden change, but there’s no time now, so you make the horse run faster and head towards the man on the other horse. He sees you approaching him and raises his spear as he makes own horse sprint towards you.

One of the other men nearby rushes you and ends up pulling you off the horse. When you hit the ground you land on the man. He tries to push you off, but you slam your bracelet on his neck and electrocute him first before punching him and knocking him out.

Now albeit, when you stand to your feet, the man on the horse comes running at you. He lifts his spear, but you raise your gun and shoot him first, leaving no one in front of you so you turn.

However, when you do turn, you see Marc with spears all over his body, and see Layla get cut by Mogart.

“Layla!” Marc shouts before you could.

You try to run to her, but Mogart grabs a spear and turns on his horse to face Layla now. Meanwhile, Marc was on the floor with the spears still on him.

There was a choice to make, help Marc so he can help Layla, or help her and risk Mogart getting her first.

No matter what jealousy brewed by the attention Marc was just giving her and the apology he gave her first, you love her too much to lose her, so you make your choice and run to Marc. There were only three men, so you raise your gun and shoot, but find the gun without bullets, so you just throw it out and grab your dagger to hurl at one man’s back.

The second one on Marc’s side looks over and grabs his gun to shoot at you; and he actually does shoot a bullet, but you slide down on your feet and use your last dagger and hurl at him.

He deflects it and continues to shoot, but Marc then uses the man’s own spear and pushes him back before turning to get the other.

And while Marc is distracted on the third man, the second one tries to cut him, but you pull your dagger out of the other man’s body and throw it at his hand this time, causing him to drop the spear. You then pick his gun off the ground and shoot him just as Marc turns to deal with him.

Marc then looks over at you and you meet his glowing gaze, and in between pants point to Mogart with your head. “Go.” You mouth.

Without a second to waste Marc turns and breaks into a sprint towards Layla. Mogart does the same. But just before Mogart reaches Layla, Marc grabs her in time and flips her over, forcing Mogart to continue running ahead, this time towards you.

His eyes then proceed to fall on you, but you don’t move and just hold his gaze with a scowl since you see Marc throw his dagger at him.

Mogart furrows his eyebrows in confusion at your reaction, but in that moment before he can even try and hurt you, the dagger stabs him in the back and he goes on ahead and leaves you.

When he’s out of sight and no longer a threat, you pick up your daggers and clip it back on your wrist before heading towards Layla and Marc.

“Y/N, are you okay?!” Marc asks as he turns to meet you halfway once he’s secured Layla.

“Yeah,” you assure him without the attitude. When he reaches you and you both stop, he grabs your shoulders and makes his mask disappear so his face is visible now.

“Are you okay?” He asks again and scans you for any injuries.

You look at his hands before you meet his gaze and nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I told you,” you pant. “I can protect myself.”

Marc cups your cheek with one hand, making you stiffen and avert your gaze to look over at Layla now. Once she meets your gaze you quickly pull away from Marc and run to her.

“Layla,” you exclaim, and quickly grab her arms once you reach her. “Are you okay?”

Said woman nods and grabs your wrists to redirect your question. “Are you okay?”

You offer her a half smile and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. I'm glad. I’m proud.”

You smile wider and let her go to turn and face Marc as he approaches the both of you.

“Do you have it?” He directs at Layla.

“Yeah,” she assures him. “We need a car.”

He nods. “Yeah, come on.”

——

*LATER*

You: You’ll get a name when you give me yours so for now I’ll just tell you my name is wolf.

You press send without regret and wait now, hope Spider-Man might answer back—given you were going to answer earlier but well the fight happened.

“Ay,” you hear Marc comment from the front of a…borrowed car. “I really liked that jacket.” He throws his jacket back over the pile of backpacks set beside you, and turns his neck to steal one glance at you before turning back again.

“What was Harrow talking about?” Layla asks Marc, and you lower your music as your interest is piqued.

“What do you mean?” Marc asks as he takes off his shirt.

“He said I had a right to know,” Layla adds.

“I have no idea,” he assures her as he throws his shirt back before you catch him, from the corner of your eyes, pointing at his bag. “Y/N, pass me the white hoodie in my bag.”

You put your phone down and pretend to be uninterested as you reach over and unzip his backpack.

“I never told anyone why I really moved,” Layla says, whilst you pull out what he asked for as he answers her.

“I don’t know, he’s just trying to mess with you….”

Your phone vibrates with an incoming message so you quickly push the hoodie to Marc to pick up your phone, noticing it was Spidey, and going unaware that Marc lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer before turning away.

“…you know he’s trying to get in your mind. No, don’t let him do that. You know he’s got this idea that can see the true nature of people or some baloney like that. If that were true, I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?” Marc finishes saying while you unlock your phone to read the message.

Unknown

Alright, fair. That’s fair. By the way, wolf is a cool name, or alias or whatever.

You scoff softly in amusement and continue to listen to the conversation happening from the front of the car.

“So, it’s not true?” Layla asks Marc. “What he said about you and…”

“No, it’s not true, of course not,” Marc cuts her off to assure her. “No, he’s just trying to divide us. Don’t let him get in your head.”

So what Harrow said about Marc and you, what is it? Is it true? Or is it a lie?

If it was a lie though, why would he say that Marc is trying to protect you from the bastard god that has him imprisoned?

Maybe he’s just trying to get your hopes up to then get them crushed when Marc reveals the actual truth that he doesn’t care.

Maybe that’s it. Which would prove your grandmother right.

“Every time I learn something new about you,” Layla adds. “I think, “that’s it. There can’t possibly be any secrets left between us.” And then something else pops up, and it’s like I’ve not known you at all.”

“Yeah,” Marc doesn’t fret to agree. “You haven’t. You don’t.”

As conflicted as you currently felt, you know for sure that what he said now to Layla was rude. She doesn’t deserve that even if it might be true.

Which is why you get discouraged to bring up your own questions on the same Harrow regard. Marc would just turn you down, lie. There’s no point. So you leave it alone and get back to answering the message.

You

Thanks :) Now tell me Spider-Man and be honest are you an old weird man? Cause yes I might be into older men but I need to know who I’m talking to. Weird? Perv? Too young?

You leave the message app and turn up your music, you look up again and now see both Layla and Marc as far as apart as they can be. Layla's eyes are watery, and Marc wears an…upset frown on his face as he stares out the window.

Now you feel shame for feeling happy that they had gotten into an argument earlier.

Yet deep down not really. Part of you…that deep flawed part of you doesn’t want them to reconcile, to be happy, not until he can talk to you first, not until he apologizes to you first. No matter how much you do love Layla.

Is that bad? Does it make you a bad friend? A bad step daughter? An even worse daughter?

Maybe. But you can’t deny what you feel.

Regardless, your phone vibrates and a message from Spidey pops up.

Unknown

No to your first two questions. At least I don’t think I’m weird. But I’ll tell you my age when you do. Cat burglar.

You scoff and don’t wait now, you’re too intrigued.

You

I TOLD YOU! I DO NOT STEAL! everything I take is already stolen and sold on the black market. I just steal from the actual stealers and return the items to their rightful owners.

And! no. You’re a man, I know men. I’ll take my caution. Tell me your age first.

As you wait now, you glance up to try and look out the window, to try and watch the stars, and the moon follow the car, but you end up catching Marc’s stare through his side-view mirror.

“Tell me you’re not actually texting that spider guy,” he says when you catch his stare. He then turns around on his seat to look at you.

You scoff and blink in disbelief before you narrow your glare on him. “Why should it matter?” You snap.

“Why—because y/n he can be a creep, you don’t know him!” He argues.

You pull out one earphone and quickly defend yourself. “If he was a creep would he go on saving people. And think about it, when you meet someone, you initially don’t know—”

“No,” he cuts you off. “Don’t give me that crap. I don’t want you texting him.”

You feign a laugh and shake your head. “I am nineteen now, I can text who I want. And please don’t you give me that dad crap because you will not like where I’ll take it. Unless you want to talk about shit?” You wait and hold his gaze for him to say something, anything. But he just presses his lips togehter and sighs.

You wait longer, for a moment longer in hopes he’d add anything, but he continues to keep quiet and turns back around.

“Exactly,” you grumble, and ignore your eyes beginning to sting and just put your earphone back on to blast music in your ears to block him out.

When you look down at your phone you see Spider-Man had texted you back.

Unknown

I’m 19. Now you. I need to know who I’m talking to.

You let out all your frustration through a deep breath and answer him.

You

I’m also 19. Yet I’m not so convinced about you.

A couple minutes pass and a message is sent back.

Unknown

Well, girl who gave me her number without knowing me I don’t know what to say

You’re gonna have to trust to me

You slowly smile at your phone and counter his comment

You

Will I regret it? Be honest.

This time when you wait, he takes longer to respond. You try not to let it get to you. You try not to get anxious and check your screen in hopes you just didn’t feel your phone vibrate, or maybe while you were checking the message somehow hid from you.

You try to watch the stars that you pass, the glowing moon that follows the car—

Perhaps it’s the time difference. Maybe he’s working, in school. Or…maybe he fell asleep.

Maybe you came on too strong? Or—

You break from your train of thought as you feel your phone vibrate. When you check you see that it was him.

He did respond.

Unknown

I don’t know

You hum at his response but find it intriguing so you answer.

You

Okay, Spidey, I’ll risk it.

You smirk and look up, noticing now that everything around you was darker as the city lights began to get further and further the deeper you drove into the desert. Now all that basked the car and your surroundings was the car's headlights, and the stars and moon’s hue that was nothing compared to London, Chicago or New York’s stars and moon shine.

Out here, even if it was in the middle of nowhere the stars shone a lot brighter, more beautiful. The Milky Way was actually visible from the desert.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you mumble as you shut the car door and look up at the night sky.

“Until you get lost,” Marc mutters while he pulls out something from his backpack before shutting his door and joining Layla at the hood of the car to begin piecing together some sort of astrological map.

However, it doesn’t turn out to be so easy, seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to an hour.

“Try that,” Marc tells Layla as he hands her a piece.

Layla tapes it to the other piece and then adds, “maybe, actually.”

“This one?” Marc suggests as he hands her another larger piece.

Layla takes it and presses it down. “Uh…no. Anything else?”

“I’m not getting any whole constellations,” Marc says. “It’s just little pieces and fragments.” He then proceeds to slam his hands on the hood out of frustration. He sighs and walks by you. “This is gonna take forever,” he adds.

You sigh and look up at the sky before you look down at Marc. “Maybe Steven can come out?” You suggest and begin to swing your feet from where you sit on the hood of the car.

Marc sighs and picks up head to look over at you.

“From what I’ve gathered he has a good understanding of all of this,” you continue. “I think it’s worth giving him a shot so we don’t waste more time.”

Marc stays quiet and hesitates, making Layla interject. “Marc, we can’t wait. It’s okay, just let go. We don’t have time.”

Marc suddenly groans and storms over to rip the side view mirror off the car and take it with him as he suddenly walks over to grab all the pieces off the hood without any sort of explanation.

“What are you doing?” Layla questions.

Marc continues not to answer and walks away from the car. He doesn’t walk far but in the spot he stops at he dumps out all of his stuff before looking through the side mirror he ripped out.

“What’s going on?” You question as both Layla and you continue to watch him.

Layla sighs and shrugs, whilst you see Marc get down on his knees and stick the pieces together. Which meant…he was Steven now?

You slide off the hood and begin to slowly follow Layla towards…Steven.

“…I don’t need that,” you hear him whisper as you approach him.

Layla gets down on her knees beside him and calls him out, “Steven?”

Said man turns and looks at her. His gaze lingers for a brief second before he interjects, “Egyptians invented modern navigation.” He pulls out more tape and bends down. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert. So they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. It’s bloody genius, isn’t it?”

It’s weird now, now that you’re grasping that your dad has alters, that Steven is an alter born out of a dissociative identity disorder. It’s just that’s the only thing that explains this accent, this change, and the fact that he knew nothing about you.

It’s something you’ve seen on tv, you’ve read in textbooks, but you never imagined you’d actually meet someone that has multiple personalities. So it’s weird because his face is your dad, a man you’ve known for nineteen years, but this accent, this completely different personality is a different person.

It’s weird to get used to. And it’s especially hard not to be mad at him because Steven does carry the same face as Marc.

How does Layla do it? How can she differentiate them so quickly?

“Et voila,” Steven says and shows off the map pieces he turned to a star.

“Whoa,” Layla gasps and takes it from him.

“It’s French,” Steven mumbles as he can’t take his eyes off her.

Layla laughs. “I know.” Her gaze lingers on him before she looks back to show you the star-shaped map.

You get closer and squint your eyes, and find yourself actually smiling in awe as you can actually see the constellation.

“So,” you add. “What do we do with it?”

“Well,” Steve says and takes the star back. “I’m not sure, but if…” he moves it and then puts it against the light. “Hand on a minute. You see that? You see those little pinpricks there? That’s a constellation.”

“We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right?” Layla asks and pulls up her tablet. “Let me just scan it.”

You scoff. “I don’t think it’s gonna work,” you point out and prop your hand on your hip. “You see if you think about it, uh—”

“It’s not working,” Layla mumbles and puts down the tablet.

“Yes, no it won’t,” you explain to her. “The stars drift over time, not so much, but what was in the sky then won’t be the same now. But it could mean the difference between us searching miles and miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking.”

Layla smiles, and Steven grins as he nods in agreement. “Yes!” He exclaims. “Yes, so basically, Senfu marked that tomb, like, two thousand years ago. So unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date, we’re beggard.”

You sigh, “yeah.” You look away from the map and look back at Steven, noticing that he seemed to be a thousand miles away himself now.

“Steven?” You call out softly and follow his line of gaze, seeing nothing.

Said man looks back at you and Layla and points ahead. He begins to walk off and Layla and you follow. Albeit you follow with more caution than she does.

Once you reach a sandy hill, Steven calls out. “Khonshu?”

Your eyebrows furrow at the sound of the name and you continue to watch Steven until suddenly the air begins to pick up and sand rolls back.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

Yet you get no answer, instead Steven puts his arms out, looks up at the sky and gets his suit on.

You glance down at Layla and she glances up at Steven. When you look at him again he has hands up and suddenly purple begins to color the night sky before the stars begin to spin around, as if it’s some earth globe.

“What,” you gasp in awe and feel shivers down your spine. The sky turns brighter and spins faster until suddenly it stops and the constellation from the map shows up on the sky.

“That’s it,” you mumble and watch Layla lift the tablet to record it.

“This is surprisingly painful,” Steven comments.

“It’s working,” Layla mentions and begins to walk around him to get the entire constellation overhead.

“I can feel my energy leaving me,” Steven groans, and you see his mask disappear from his face, whilst the stars in the sky begin to shake—“oh, god, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

You look back at Layla and see that it’s almost complete. “Just hold on, a while longer,” you assure him.

Seconds later the computerized voice speaks the coordinates.

“I got it,” Layla exclaims. “29 degrees north, 25 east.”

Steven falls on his hands and knees and groans in pain, causing you to rush over to him to help him up, whilst his outfit completely disappears and the sky turns back to normal.

However, Steven falls again and you fall to your knees with him, noticing now that he went unconscious.

“Da—Steven?” You call, and Layla rushes over to help you flip him over. “Steven,” you try again and pick up his head. “Hey. Steven? Dad? Come on. Come on.” Your voice begins to quiver and your eyes begin to sting. “Come on.”

“Steven?” Layla calls out too and brushes back his hair. “Marc? Where are you?”

He continues to lay unconscious and his pulse feels weak.

“Hey,” you call out quieter. “Come on. Wake up. Please.” Your heart begins to race, and your stomach begins to churn as your mind races with the worst. “Wake the hell up!”

“Let’s take him to the car,” Layla says and walks to grab his legs, whilst you grab him from his arms to begin slowly carrying him down the sandy hill to reach the car.

Albeit, you don’t end up making it far at all because different car headlights show up whilst an engine is heard nearby.

“Shit,” you hiss and get down to begin carrying your fathers body that way.

Yet guns begin to get fired, so you have to let go so he can roll down and get down faster. His body then ends up tripping Layla and she rolls down with him.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaim as you slide down the sandy hill.

The car begins to drive down so you break into a sprint and almost trip on your way down. Luckily you don’t roll down and end up stumbling close to Layla.

“Explosive,” she whispers. “They have explosives in the back of the car.”

You look over and see them beginning to turn.

“Go,” you urge her. “I’ll stay back with him.”

Without a second thought Layla begins to sprint over. The moment she makes it to the car the other car turns and begins to head towards her, making you clench your jaw and dig your nails in your palms.

You see Layla opening the trunk, but you also hear people speaking in Arabic as they drive closer. Once they begin to drive towards the trunk you hold your breath and let your body slide down a little bit.

Nevertheless, they don’t get off or spot her, they continue to turn and point their lights in your direction, so you gasp softly and lay on the ground to close your eyes and pretend to be dead.

They don’t seem to get out of the car but they also don’t fucking leave. Albeit you do hear one scream before they smack their car and finally turn away. As you look up you see them facing Layla holding a red match before they begin to shoot and drive towards her.

You want to yell out to get their attention, but Layla then gets down and hides the light, making them stop shooting and drive closer. And the moment they’re closer, Layla crawls to the other side and lights another match to throw it in their trunk and set off their explosives. Finally making them stop.

“What’s—”

At the sound of Steven’s voice you gasp and jump back. “<What the hell is your fucking problem?>” You swear off in Spanish as you clutch onto your chest and push yourself to your feet.

“Did I scare you?” Steven asks as he follows you towards Layla. “I'm so sorry!”

You wave him off and let out a deep breath as you head back towards your seat in the back, missing the way Steven stares at Layla in awe until she comments on it. “What?”

Is it weird to be confused about their relationship? It feels like Steven is being weird with Layla since she is married, but at the same time she is married to him…his body, his face, so is it weird to be rooting for their reconcile and at the same time their downfall?

Ah. It’s too confusing.

Music should help.

Yet…

“What are you listening to?” Steven asks as he crawls into the back with you.

“Uh,” you hum as you watch him struggle to swing his legs over. “Just, uhm,” you mumble and lean back so you don’t get hit by his body. “Yep, just….”

He falls on the bags and groans softly before turning around and pushing the things aside to sit down.

“Okay,” you laugh softly. “Yep.”

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly.

You glance at him and then back at your phone and nod slowly. “Hi,” you say back.

“So, what you listening to?” He presses.

You sigh and turn your phone on to show him the song that popped up first when you hit play.

“Ah, This Feeling by Alabama shakes, cool. That’s cool.”

“One of my favorites,” you mumble.

“You know,” he scoffs lightheartedly. “I really like this song called, Lobo-hombre en Paris by, uh, La Unión.”

You lick your lips and look up at him. “Really?” You probe. “That’s crazy, that's one of my favorites…”

You heard it from Marc actually.

“Oh, really?!” Steven exclaims. “That’s so cool! Cool.” He nods.

You hum and sigh softly, whilst Steven rummages through his jacket pocket until he pulls out something small.

“I think,” he interjects, “this belongs to you. Maybe.” He opens his fist, and there on his palm is a small carved wooden wolf. It was once yours, it was a gift from Marc.

“Uh...” you swallow thickly, and pull your headphones off. “Yeah. Well it was mine.”

He hums and holds it between his fingers to study the gray and brown wooden wolf. “I’ve always carried it with me, I never remember how I got it, but one thing I did know is that it helped me feel…safe. Calm. So I made sure never to lose it.”

Your eyes and throat begin to sting, and suddenly you feel at a loss for words

“I think it’s yours though,” he continues to add. “I mean because Layla calls you wolf, like the animal, so I assume—”

“Again, it was mine,” you interject. “I gave it back to Marc a long time ago. When he was leaving to one of his many trips around the world,” you begin to say and take the wooden wolf from Steven. “I told him it would keep him safe and that it would be like taking me with him wherever he went. Because I remembered that when he gave it to me he said that he picked it out because it reminded him of me. I was around five, so you can imagine how happy that made me.” You sniffle and hand it back to Steven. “Now, you keep it.”

Steven shakes his head and tries to give it back, but you close his hand around the wooden wolf and offer him a soft smile.

“Keep it,” you assure him. “It will continue to keep you calm. And so you can remember me.” You grin.

“But,” he tries to interject. “It’s from your dad. Which oddly enough your dad is…me? My body?”

You giggle. “Yeah, it’s confusing, but just keep it, please. I want you to keep it. It’ll keep you safe.”

Steven holds your gaze for a second before he sighs and nods with a faint smile on his face. “Thanks,” he whispers.

The sight of his face makes you want to punch him less, but he still is your dad so your anger isn’t actually gone completely.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “For the way I acted with you before. You’re obviously not Marc, so my anger is not directed towards you. I’m sorry for being an ass.”

Steven scoffs softly and shakes his head. “No, don't worry about it. I get it. Marc is an arse.”

You nod softly in agreement.

“Can I ask, what did he do? What happened?”

Your eyes flicker down and a shaky sigh escapes past your lips. “Don’t…don’t worry about it,” you deflect his question. “It wasn’t you.” You offer him one last smile before you put your earphones back on and continue to listen to music as you continue towards the tomb.

Unbeknownst to you, while you apologized to Steven, as you warmed up to him, Marc from within was growing jealous that it wasn’t him who you were talking to; that talking to you couldn’t be as easy as Steven was making it out to be.

A/N- Now is y/n’s fascination with older men because of her daddy issues or because it might be leading to something else? 🤔

Tagged: @broadwaytraaaaash

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damn-stark · 2 years

Text

Chapter 1 Wolf

Chapter 1 of Moon Star

A/N- I finally finished the first chapter! I really hope you guys like it!!!

Warning- Violence, talks of blood and weapon, angst, surprise guest, swearing.

Pairing- Marc Spector x daughter!reader

Episode- 1x02

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Y/N Spector!”

A crowd of students cheer, a small handful hollar from excitement while the crowd booms with clapter. It’s not everyday one graduates from High School after all. It’s a one time special event.

Which is why such an event should be celebrated, it’s meant to be a joyful filled moment; it is for some. It should be remembered. Especially by a father with only one child who he said he loved with every bit of his heart.

Shouldn’t he be here?

As your eyes searched every row of happy relatives, once, twice and three times while you walked down the runway, he wasn’t there. Layla, his wife is there with a smile on her face, your grandfather is there beside her clapping and grinning a happy toothy grin, but he isn’t.

When you take the diploma and begin heading down you double check, hope that you may have missed him in the sea of people. Sometimes he did like to lurk in the shadows. But….when you step down, reality sets, illusions fall. After all the promises, all the tender words, all the caring, it all amounts to nothing at this moment.

“Your father is ungrateful. He’s a bad man who does bad things. Wolfie, he doesn’t care, but I do. I love you.”

——

*SOME TIME LATER. NEW YORK*

A proud smirk tugs on your lips as you see the artifact in your hand gleam gold under the colorful lights flashing overhead.

Another successful grab.

“Item secured,” you talk through the mic hidden in your ear. “I’m on my way, start the car.” You shove the artifact in your bag and quicken your stride as you see the back door approaching.

You approach it and push the door open, but as the door gets thrown back you come face to face with four men dressed in fancy suits.

Fuck.

Just don’t panic. Smile and act normal.

“Pardon,” you mumble and try to walk past them, but one of them steps in your way and grabs your arm to yank you towards him. “Excuse—get your hands off me,” you sneer and knee his crotch before you use your bracelet to zap his neck.

The man lets you go right away and groans and grunts out in pain, letting you turn to return inside even as the three men chase after you.

“I’m…compromised,” you say in your mic between pants whilst you turn the hall and push past people. “Turn at 22nd ave.”

“Shit watch it!” Someone yells out.

You throw your hand out to apologize and don’t bother to look back as you turn a sharp right to head towards the elevators.

“Shit, y/n, what the hell happened?” Layla responds. “How many?”

You peer back and hear the commotion of hurried footsteps so you slam on the elevator button with desperation.

“Four. But I took one down, so three. I’ll lose them.” You assure her and keep slamming your fist on the button, but to no avail. “Fuck. Damn it. Damn it!”

What kind of fancy building doesn’t have working elevators!

You snap your head from side to side until you see emergency stairs at the end of the other hall. So you quickly proceed to break into a sprint, having to swerve to the side so as to miss hitting some passersby.

When you reach the stairs though, the three men catch up to you. One tries to pull you back, but you throw your elbow back and hit his nose, before pulling out a dagger hidden in your bracelet to stab another man's arm before throwing the door open and rushing up the stairs.

The three men keep following you nevertheless.

“Come here if you know what’s good for you, you little rat!” One of them yells from below the stairs.

You glance down and see the three down one flight of stairs. Damn.

“Y/N where are you now?” Layla comes in through the mic again. “If you don’t respond in thirty seconds I am going up there I don’t care what you want.”

You try to quicken your pace up the damn stairs and talk back between heavier pants. “Running up the stairs, thanking you for dragging me on morning jogs. I’ll be going radio silent until I reach the car. Bye.”

“No! Y/N! Wolf! Wolfie! Don’t you dare—!”

You lift your hand to your ear and turn off the mic in your ear even after Layla’s protest, ending up grinning as you reach the top of the stairs and see the exit.

Finally!

You shove the door open and in that instant see two more fucking men!

Yet you don’t let that bring you down, instead you slowly begin to grin at them. “Gentlemen,” you greet. “I was just coming out for a smoke in the silence.”

One of the men on the right scoffs and pierces his green eyes on you. “Hand it over gently and we won’t have to hurt you, girl,” he spats.

You blink repeatedly and touch your chest. “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I came out here to smoke.” You step to the side and the men follow your step. “Now if you don’t mind please leave me alone.”

The second man to the left rolls his eyes in annoyance, and the three men who were chasing you finally catch up, all breathing very heavily.

“Her bag,” one of them groans. “It’s in her bag.”

You sigh and slowly lose your smile. The first man reaches over, but you grab his wrist in time and manage to just slightly turn him whilst you kick the second guy in the chest to knock the air out of him. You then lunge forward and proceed to use a small blade in your ring to swing it from the first man’s cheekbone to his eye, making him scream and stumble back.

The men behind you try to reach you, but you turn and slam the door shut on one man’s hand.

“Okay,” you whisper in panic and rummage through your bag until you pull out a small gadget that you stick on the knob that surrounds the metal in electricity so they wouldn’t touch it. “Perfect.” You smirk and turn to head towards the fire escape.

But of course just as you reach it the man who you knocked out at first is climbing up them. You turn to try and your luck back inside, but the men find a way through your gadget and begin to come at you with their guns now.

“Great,” you breathe out and stand in the middle. “Look,” you address all of them. “I promise I’m not worth all this trouble, I have nothing.”

“Why are you running then?” The man climbing out of the fire escape asks.

You peer over at him and acted frightened. “Because you’re after me. All of you, four scary man after me, a woman.” You feign a frown and force tears to your eyes. “I’m just scared.”

One of the men that comes from inside the building slowly begins to lower his gun. And you think it’s because somehow your shitty acting got to him, but when you hear a thud behind you, you look back and see…Spider-Man turning away from the man he just trapped on the floor with his web.

Spider-Man. Fucking Spider-man, it’s—he’s actually not so tall, he has more muscle than the pictures do justice—no, focus. Get out of here.

“Please—” however, before you can finish asking for help his arms suddenly wrap around you, and he rapidly swings you around to save you from the bullets.

“Oh my god,” you pant and grab onto his arms.

No matter how many dangerous situations you’ve been in, being shot at isn’t something you’ve gotten used to yet.

“Just hold on,” Spider-Man says in a very young voice, yet not so young to make you believe he’s a teen, he’s maybe a young adult. “Stay here, you’ll be okay,” he continues and slowly pulls away from you.

You meet his big white eyes and nod before you watch him turn and use his webs to pull one gun away from one man. He then uses that gun and swings it to hit the second man.

“Don’t you have something better than to pick on a girl half your size?”He says and you quietly take this time to turn around and head towards the fire escape.

As soon as you reach it you check back, and when you notice Spider-Man still fighting the men you quickly climb down.

“Layla,” you say after you turn on your mic.

“Y/N! Oh thank goodness! Where are you?!” Layla immediately responds.

To reach the ground quicker you instead you the ladders to slide down to the ground. “I’m on my way,” you let her know with a small smile.

Your feet touch the ground and just as you’re pulling away to finally leave the damned street, suddenly something sticky keeps your hand against the railing. When you look back you see a web.

“I can’t let you do that,” you hear Spider-Man say from behind you.

You let out a small sigh and look over your shoulder with a feigned hurt look. “Look, I’m not with them I promise. I just want to go home.”

Spider-Man begins to walk over to you, and you follow every step he takes. “That’s why they were chasing you with guns?” He retorts with a bit of snark in his tone.

You keep taking your innocence nevertheless. “Yeah, they wanted to hurt me. I managed to run away, but they kept chasing me.”

Spider-Man makes it in front of you and his white bug eyes narrow. “So if I check your bag now there would be nothing in there.”

You shrug. “Unless you’re, like, into pads and stuff like that then no.”

Spider-Man scoffs in amusement and takes a step toward you, and you tilt your head.

“Can I say,” you continue whilst you slowly smile. “I’m a big fan. I’ve been one since your early days when you’d wear….sweats.”

He huffs. “Look,” he says as he drops his head. “I’m going to make it simple since you look like a…nice girl.” He faces you again. “Give me what you stole and I will let you go. Simple.”

You narrow your glare and check him out, catching the gadget where his webs come out of, and meeting his eyes again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you continue to act dumb and watch him get very close. “Let me go, my mom is waiting for me, she'll begin to worry.” Layla wasn’t your real mother but he didn’t need to know that.

“Okay,” he sighs and tilts his head just sligtly. “Show me that you don’t have what you stole and I’ll walk you to your mom.”

“Promise?” You ask sweetly and bat your eyelashes.

Spider-Man blinks and you see his Adam’s apple lift and slide back down. He then nods and pretends to reach for your bag, but you turn rapidly and use the blade in your ring and manage to cut the web to free your hand. Spider-man tries to retaliate by trapping you again, but as he throws out his hand to shoot his web, you throw your blade from your bracelet and just barely manage to hit his web gadget and disable it with electricity.

“What the…” Spider-Man gasps in disbelief and looks at you and his gadget with bewilderment.

You quickly rush him and try to kick his chest, but he manages to grab your foot. “Not so fast.”

You hold his gaze and smirk at him before you yank your foot back, and counterattack by kicking him back before you lunge forward and use a smoke gadget you had to paralyze him.

“Wow,” you say all giddy as you pick up your crescent snapped blade. “I took you down. That’s…” you sigh and turn to beam at him. “I, hm. Wow.”

Spider-Man coughs and his eyes widen. “No, yeah props to you, but you completely proved me right just now.”

You shrug sweetly. “Maybe I did,” you retort and begin to walk away. “Does that earn a name?”

Spider-Man tilts his head and shakes it. “No,” he says. “Beats the purpose of a secret identity.”

“Hm, worth the question,” you sigh and smirk at him. “One, the paralyzation will wear off in about ten minutes. Two, I don’t steal. They’ve already been stolen.” You scoff softly and pull out a piece of paper to jot down your number, as you walk to him you offer him a sweet smile before placing the paper on his hand he had stuck.

“Okay, thanks,” he whispers in disbelief. “That’s, uh, b-bold. What if I’m an old man?”

You shrug. “It’s okay, I’ll take the risk.” You wave at him and walk away from the alleyway. “Bye-bye now Spidey. Text me, maybe we can run into each other again someday.” You turn the corner and hear a distant response.

“Bye…I…bye.”

You grin slightly as you pull off the wig from your head and throw it aside, before you pull off your jacket and throw it in some trashcan as you stride down the street towards Layla.

Luckily you don’t get chased down by Spider-Man so you make it to the car safely. And once Layla sees you her eyes brighten and relief finally washes over her.

“Y/N, what the hell where have you been?” She asks as you open the car door.

You climb in and close the door before pulling the artifact out of your bag and showing it off to her with a very proud smile. “Got it, there were some snags along the way, like, Spider-Man, but I managed to take him down. Now drive before he finds us.”

Layla shifts to drive and blinks in disbelief before looking at you. “Excuse you did what?”

You meet her gaze and nod. “Yeah, no, I took down Spider-Man! With my paralyzation gas.” You show off.

Layla faces the street and hums. “That worked,” she mumbles in disbelief.

You nod and put the artifact back in your bag.

“Okay,” Layla sighs. “My turn.”

You blink and slightly narrow your gaze in confusion.

Layla glances at you before she hands you her phone. “Check the recently called list,” she says.

You carefully grab the phone and smile nervously before dropping your gaze to unlock the phone and checking what she said. The moment you see the recently called section your eyes widen, and a small gasp comes out of your lips.

“What,” you mumble. “This can’t be. He’s gone totally MIA. Are you sure?”

Layla nods. “No, yeah, I’m sure, it was him. His voice. He quickly hung up though. Can you maybe trace the call?”

You return your gaze to the phone and read the name again, Marc Spector.

Your dad. He called Layla his wife. After so long he finally called.

——

*LONDON*

“If I knew he was home we could’ve never left.” You mutter as you put your sunglasses on and hop on your scooter.

Layla puts on her helmet and adds, “we needed to go, I mean wasn’t it worth it? There’s only so much you can see of your campus online.”

You shrug. “I suppose but…” you start the engine. “You should’ve seen the virtual tour. It’s a lot better than they were six years ago. Besides,” you sigh. “Is it really smart to leave with my dad MIA?”

Layla looks over at you and shakes her head. “I told you when the time comes and if we still haven’t found your dad, he’s not yours to worry about.” She narrows her gaze and her serious demeanor doesn’t falter. “Do you understand y/n?”

No matter how much of a deadbeat he’s been, especially ever since you came back, he’s still your father, you’re still worried.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “I understand.”

Layla nods and looks ahead again. “Okay, let’s go.” She pushes back her kickstand and leads the way.

Fortunately there isn’t much traffic so you’re able to keep up without having to be cut off, or having to lose sight of her because people can’t respect those on motorcycles.

And futhermore, unlike New York, the sights you drive by are more enjoyable and more beautiful…

Then again maybe that’s just because you’re a bit bitter about leaving. Even if Layla and your grandfather say “it’s good for you wolf, you’re going to gain a lot of new experiences.”.

It’s whatever. The far more enjoyable experiences are made by Layla’s side going on adventures. The great experiences are—

Suddenly out of nowhere Layla comes to a sudden halt and you’re forced to turn to the side to break so you wouldn’t crash into her. However, as your use your feet to come to a skidding stop you see your…your dad on the ground.

“Marc?” Layla asks in disbelief. “Where have you been?”

Said man pulls his arm away from his face and looks over at her. “Ar-ar—Layla?” He asks.

You pull your sunglasses off and lean forward. “Dad?”

Immediately your dad snaps his eyes towards you and furrows his eyebrows even deeper. “I—you—who are you?”

You share a confused look with Layla and then narrow your gaze back on him. “What are you on about?” You question him almost offendedly.

Your dad slowly begins to push himself to his feet and shakes his head as he looks behind him. “Something is after me. It was just behind me.”

You glance at the building but just see casual passerbyers minding their own business. No one comes running out, nor is there any screams.

“What are you talking about, Marc?” Layla asks.

He scoffs. “Just please help me get out of here. Please take me home.”

Layla shares one last puzzled look with you before she addresses your dad. “Get on. Let’s go y/n.”

You put your sunglasses back on and follow after her through the streets of London. It seems that she and your dad are having a conversation but due to your helmet and the air that keeps hitting you as you drive, you can’t hear shit. And she keeps looking away from her mirrors so you can’t read her lips either. All you have is expressions and she keeps the same angry and annoyed one since you found him.

He however is different. He looks scared and confused. Something strange to see on a man you thought was incredibly fearless. It’s like he’s in a state of anxiety by the looks of his tensed shoulders and widened eyes. He almost seems like a different person. More so when you speak to him once you finally make it to some apartment complex not far from home.

“Where the hell have you been, dad? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Your dad looks back at you and swallows thickly before he shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he stammers as he walks you two to the elevator shaft. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You clench your jaw and feel your eyes flicker away from him, whilst Layla shoots him a glare.

“Marc, what are you doing?” She scolds him.

Said man walks you inside and presses the button to his floor once you’re all inside. “Let’s just wait. Just wait,�� he interjects nervously and stands at the far end of the elevator that's as far from both Layla and you.

He stands stiff, he just keeps stealing looks as if he’s actually confused. And you keep trying to avoid looking at him now so as to not get even more mad than you already were. It makes things awkward in the elevator and makes the ride quite uncomfortable and longer than it actually was.

Once the elevator comes to a halt it actually feels like you can breathe again. Yet your anger doesn’t subside. It only heightens as he walks you into an actual apartment that seems to have been occupied for quite some time, basing off all the damn clutter spread everywhere.

“Damn,” you mutter. “This place is a piece of junk.”

“Excuse me?” Your dad asks.

You scoff as you put your sunglasses away and look around at all the bookshelves, papers hung up against the wall, and finally land your eyes on a big fish tank that contains one single goldfish.

“Huh,” you interject beside Layla. “Cute.” You step back and continue to wander around, managing to catch your father muttering something.

“I just want my life back.”

You scoff in annoyance and just let Layla answer. “Yeah. I’m getting that.”

“No, no.” He interjects right away. “Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself. Sort of.”

You come to a stop in front of a sand barrier that’s around the bed, and slowly look up and see chains and cuffs….

Disgusting.

“Wow,” you breathe out and squint your eyes to make sure those were actually cuffs. “Kinky are we?”

Footsteps approach, and as you glance back you see Layla and your father approaching—“uh, this is your flat, Marc?” She asks.

“Um, I’m Steven,” he corrects her, making you briefly narrow your eyes before you turn and catch Layla finally seeing the same thing you did.

“Are you living here with someone else?” She demands to know.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he quickly assures her. “No, um, this is my mum’s flat.”

You look over at your dad and part your lips out of shock. “Grandma has a flat in London?”

He meets your gaze and stays quiet as he looks away more confused now. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums after a while.

Huh, she never mentioned.

You hum in response and move away.

“But,” he adds. “My mum never mentioned you. At all.”

You scoff. “What are you talking about?” You snap in annoyance. “You left me with them. Or what?” You begin to walk over to him and shoot him a pointed glare. “Did you take advantage of the five years I disappeared to actually erase me from your life?”

He stays quiet and begins fiddling with his fingers.

You wait for a response, for something but he just shakes his head.

“Right,” you scoff and shake your head. “I get it, dad,” you sneer and turn away to walk off and snoop somewhere else

“Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?” Layla thankfully interjects the silence.

They bond over the poem, whilst you find French and Hieroglyphic books on his overpiled desk.

“So, you’re learning French and hieroglyphics?” You ask as you pick up a book off the desk.

Layla walks over and overlooks the things you were looking at too.

“Yeah, well…that’s not that impressive, really. It’s not like hieroglyphs are a whole language,” your dad says as he walks over too. “It’s more like a…”

“Like an alphabet?” You finish saying for him as you put the book down. “Yeah. Layla told me.”

He glances at Layla behind you and then back at you to continue. “Yeah, and…well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it.”

Yep learning that.

“Sure,” you scoff, and he doesn’t stop talking.

“For example, like this one here, right?” He points to an example.

You look over and recognize it thanks to Layla’s teachings. “Funeral rites,” you mention dryly.

“Well, someone knows their unilaterals. You.” He points, and you pass a weird look. “That’s amazing.” He says nervously.

You narrow your gaze and feel your lips flicker to weird frown, whilst Layla begins to chuckle.

“Sorry,” he immediately interjects as he looks over at Layla. “I don’t mean that in a creepy way to your daughter.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Layla says and meets his gaze. “I’m not buying this, Marc. Use whatever accent you want. Yeah. Come on, Wolf.” She begins to walk off, and you don’t hesitate to follow her without even as much considering your father—“let’s just get this over with. You sent these papers but you never signed them.” She grabs her bag and pulls out the divorce papers.

“Did I?” Your dad stammers. “Uh…”

Layla hands him the papers and he begins to search for something in his jacket.

“This is what you wanted,” she says as he ends up pulling out glasses you’ve never seen him wear before.

“Let’s have a look here,” he mumbles.

“After everything, you told me that we needed to move on,” Layla continues. “But I'm not forgetting y/n. We can be whatever you want Marc, I don't care, but I'm still going to be in her life.”

You smile faintly and watch as your father reads the papers he had sent her. “All right. Divo…Divorce?”

You further narrow your gaze and keep watching him.

“Yeah,” Layla nods. “Are we doing this or not?”

“I would never divorce you.” He retorts and just adds more confusion.

“What are you doing?” Layla snaps.

“Look, you both seem absolutely lovely,” your dad says and looks between the both of you. “Even with the snappy attitude…”

You smirk faintly at his comment and move back to the door to fold your arms over your chest.

“…This Marc, on the other hand, is a right twit, yeah?” He continues to say. “I don’t know how to explain what’s been happening. I don’t expect you to believe me. I honestly don’t really believe it myself, all I can do is try to…try to show you what I found.” He moves to the gym back on a small table. “I found this bag in the storage locker. And inside of it is all sorts…” he unzips the bag and begins to look through it. “…of things.”

You step closer and raise your head to look over his shoulder.

“Most interestingly…” he suddenly pauses and looks up and gets his eyes lost on nothing ahead of him.

“Most interestingly is what?” Layla queries.

You tilt your head and squint.

“Nothing,” he then deadpans.

“Nothing?” Layla retorts.

Once again your father faces her and repeats himself. “Nothing nevermind.”

Layla walks to him to press further. “What’s in there?”

You drop your arms and step forward.

“Nothing…wait—” he trails off as you shove him aside and rummage through the bag. Layla walks to your side and watches until you pull out a golden scarab.

“Is this?” You mumble and slowly face Layla. “Is this it?”

Layla’s eyes widen and she reaches over to grab it from your hand before glaring at your dad. “The scarab pointing to Ammit’s ushabti? What we fought side by side for.”

“No,” he mumbles.

“This whole one-man show is just what?” Layla argues. “So that you can keep it for yourself?”

You look at him up and down in disappointment and some confusion, but keep quiet since you’ve only recently been told about their adventures, you’ve only recently been involved thanks to Layla.

“No, no. I swear…” he tries to say but gets cut off by Layla.

“Wow. After all that we’ve been through—no, no just stop! I’m supposed to believe anything you say with this shoved in wh-what, a gym bag?”

You look back down at said bag and continue to rummage through in hopes you’d find something valuable. But it’s not there. You do end up finding something else though, an invitation and a pass to your graduation ceremony.

The envelope seal is open, but the papers inside are still straight and clean. As if it was untouched. As if he never debated going.

And this is where he shoved it, in this damn bag.

“Take it,” your father says to Layla. “Take it, you can have it. Take it, take it. I don’t want it. I don’t want it. I swear. Have it.”

Layla shakes her head and stays quiet.

“I am not Marc Spector,” he keeps insisting. “I’m Steven Grant…”

That’s not what his actual passport says. Or his birth certificate, or your years of actually knowing him.

“I work in a gift shop. Well, I used to work in a gift shop,” he says almost as if wants to cry. “And I think I’m in real danger, and I think maybe that you might be the only person that can help me….Please.”

You look up and keep staring at your father.

“You really don’t remember why we’ve been looking for this?” Layla asks, and your father shakes his head. “Our adventures. Or our life together?”

He shakes his head and mutters, “oh, God, I wish I could.”

He’s really committed to this Steven persona isn’t he?

Nevertheless, a knock raps on the door and a woman’s voice echoes from behind the door. “Steven Grant, can we have a word?”

Your fathers eyes widen out of panic. “See?” He points to the door. “Oh, God, they’ve come for me.”

You step towards the door and look over at him. “Why?” You ask.

“I vandalized a toilet.” He shares, and you snort quietly.

The knocking proceeds to continue and your father finally answers. “Yeah, just a minute!” He then begins slowly sneaking towards the door as the woman continues.

“Steven Grant?”

“Yeah?”

She hasn’t announced who she’s here in part of. No title, nothing.

“Wa—” you end up cutting yourself off as you feel Layla's hand on your arm to begin pulling you back.

“DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy here.”

You look around the room and point to the window.

“Yeah, yeah, one second.”

Layla sneaks over there and tries to avoid dropping any books piled on the floor as she pulls open the window as quietly as she can.

When it is opened, she waves you to climb out to the roof first before she follows once you carefully step to the side. As you’re on the roof, you look down and see it’s quite a fall so you grip onto the ledge of the roof and slowly climb higher up so Layla can grab onto the ledge too.

The moment you hear footeapes approach from the inside she pushes you back, and proceeds to press her back against the wall until you hear those same footsteps recede.

“You’re in possession of a stolen item,” you hear a man’s voice from the inside. It’s distant and barely audible thanks to the damn outside noise.

“I can barely hear,” you complain.

Layla huffs and puts her hand out so you can wait there as she carefully steps closer to the window to listen for the both of you. You try to step forward but your foot slips and you claw your nails in the wall so you wouldn't fall and drag Layla down with you.

“What are they—”

You’re shused again but this time she only stays quiet for a few minutes before she looks back at you slightly panicked. “They’re taking him.”

You gasp softly. “What?”

Layla presses her ear close to the window and waves you over as she begins to slowly walk back to the window. You follow in tow and jump back inside, but accidently knock down a pile of your fathers many books.

“Oh, shit,” you sneer.

Layla walks to the door and assures you over her shoulder, “it’s okay they’re not here anymore. But we’ll lose them if we don’t follow.”

You nod and make it out of the house to return to your scooters.

“Do you believe him?” You ask Layla as you’re in the elevator.

Layla pulls out the scarab and sighs as she shrugs. “I don’t know what to believe. Part of me does because he actually sounds so convincing, but as I look at this I contradict that belief. You?” She asks as she glances at you.

You let out a deep breath and shrug. “I don’t know, really. I find his behavior weird but….he’s left me before, so it’s hard to believe him and not think of this as some sort of trick to push me away again. On the other hand I’m trying not to let my anger blind me, I’m trying not to let my grandma's voice get to me, I want to believe him, so I don’t know,” you scoff and drop your head.

Layla places her hand on your shoulder and gently squeezes it as the elevator doors open. “You have every right to be angry. We’ll try and figure him out after we help him.”

You nod and don’t add anything, you just walk out and catch a man and a woman walking your father out of the building. They get in some black four door car. You follow but make sure to keep your distance so they wouldn't see.

And while you drove you couldn’t help but think about Layla, how you used to be angry because you were afraid she’d steal your father away. You used to be jealous of her. You’d actively wish for their downfall, you were cruel, but….after coming back she was there and he wasn’t.

Every bit of life changed, it was overwhelming and he was never there, but she was, she was always there even if she had no actual reason to. So now you can’t imagine life without her. She’s like the mother you never got to have. So part of the reason why you’re actually in search of the deadbeat is because of her, because she gives you hope and tries to sway you to look at Marc differently, not in the way your grandmother tried to make you see him. It’s because of her that you’re now following his kidnappers to some far lively residential area.

“It’s very…” you comment as you look around at all the people, at the goat passing by. “Lively.”

Layla looks back and nods stiffly. “I’ll say.”

“Should we…” you look away from the goat and keep looking ahead. “Just go inside or something?”

“There,” Layla points. You follow her finger and see the man and the woman that had taken your father. “That’s them.” Confirming that they weren’t actually any kind of authority.

You scoff. “But…he’s not with them.” You look away and catch some people walking into some old brick building at the end of the pathway.

“What even is this place?” Layla mutters.

You shrug. “Who knows,” you sigh. “But look, there. People are going in there.”

“Let’s have a look.” She says and quickens her pace.

As you follow her inside you see more people inside, they’re all doing their own thing; watching things, eating, talking. It’s like a community, this whole place. It’s…cute. Yet you don’t see your father, nor do you take the obvious straight path further inside the rundown building, you follow Layla around the hall and listen to the distant voices that become less muffled the closer you get to the other side.

“…I kinda draw a line there, at child murder…”

Your eyes brighten at the sound of his voice. His new accent.

However, the voices turn quieter, muffled, and then louder again.

“I need to know, where is the scarab?”

Oh shit. That’s a new voice.

“Where is the scarab?” The manly voice asks again to who you most likely assume is your father.

Layla catches the sound of the demands and begins to quicken her pace. You follow and notice people in the hall the closer you get.

“Where is the scarab?”

“No.”

“Where is the scarab?” The mysterious man asks again.

As the archway comes to view, Layla rounds the corner and announces herself quickly. “I have it.”

When you round the corner, you see those same peaceful people gathered around your father, and see an older man with hair a bit above his shoulder and a cane in his hand in front of him.

“You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding,” the man directs at Layla.

You clench your fists to be ready for anything, and meet your fathers gaze, noticing that he actually seems relieved to see you this time.

“Let me have that, I’ll keep it safe.” The man continues. And as you walk closer to your father people begin to crowd around you too.

“Summon the suit,” Layla instructs your father. And for the first time since you found out about this, time stealing god, you actually agree with Layla.

“S-sorry, what?” He queries.

Layla and you both look at him and she repeats herself. “Summon the suit.”

People begin to get closer and inch closer to Layla as you keep your eyes on the people.

“Summon the soup?” He asks in confusion. “What are you saying?”

Oh wow.

“The suit,” you sneer as you look back. “Your suit. Summon it!”

He meets your gaze with more confusion and shakes his head. “The suit?”

Layla presses the scarab against him and adds, “and keep this safe.” She turns and the man finally gives up.

“So be it,” he says, causing Layla to break into a run.

You quickly follow, and your father does but grabs onto her as if he’s scared.

Men try to stop her from taking your father but she shoves them away and leads the way up the stairs. She makes it to the runway, but you come to a quick halt as a man cuts off your fathers path. And rather than fighting him off, your dad grabs your arm and pulls you away.

“What are you doing?” You snap and let him pull you up some stairs.

He doesn’t answer though because you then reach the top of the stairs and see Layla fighting off some man before she throws him off the stairs. Your father looks down at the man as he crashes down a wooden surface, and follows your line of gaze over to the old man chanting something as he has his cane pressed against the ground, causing it to crack.

Layla proceeds to run over to grab your father to pull him with her.

“That was awesome,” he compliments her. You follow her up more stairs and run down messy halls until you all finally reach some kind of storage room.

“Here. Bold the door,” Layla instructs your dad, whilst you gasp as you see all the sarcophagus in the room.

“This is all a whole lot of bad luck,” you mumble as you proceed to look for a way out.

“Oh my god,” your dad gasps. “I’m going to die in an evil magicians man cave,” he panics, making Layla approach him, and for you to watch him with a puzzled look.

“No, no. Hey. Listen to me. Listen to me,” Layla tries to calm him down as she grabs his hands. “Your name is Marc. There’s a suit. I’ve seen you wear it. You bring it out.”

“No.” He shakes his head.

You scoff and roll your eyes before you step towards him to try and snap him out of this weird persona. “Dad, where are you? We need you to fight.”

He keeps shaking his head and sounds more distressed. “No, no. I can’t. Stop, please the three of you. Please, stop!”

You blink in disbelief, but fight off your confusion and slight fear of this new reaction of his and pull his arms towards you so he can look at you. “Listen to me. Your name is Marc Spector.”

He looks away but you grab his face and pull him back.

“Your name is Marc. You’re my dad, you’re Layla’s husband. You have a weird suit that I hate, but you need to bring it out! Dad!”

He keeps looking away, and more sweat gleams his face. Layla then joins in to try and get him to snap out of it too. “Where the hell are you? You need to fight!”

“Dad—”

“Stop, stop. leave me alone, the three of you! No.”

You kneel down and continue as you grab his arms.

“Hey, look at me you—”

“No,” he snaps at you. “No! Do you not understand I am not Marc! I’m not your dad! You’re wrong, you’re mistaken, I’m not your dad. You’re not my daughter!”

You go rigid and feel your breath catch as you blink in disbelief. He pushes your hands off him and drops his head again.

He’s been absent, you’ve been angry, but you still held onto hope. You foolishly still cherished your past memories even with all the stuff your grandmother would say, you never let her poison you. Even with all your anger you still did love him. More than anyone. But hearing him say those words now, hearing him yell them out begins to darken all that good stuff you still carried.

It’s like you could hear your heart cracking inside. Everything’s so quiet, so bleak.

“Y/N, listen to me he didn't mean it,” Layla tries to excuse him again. She always did that.

“I,” you breathe out and meet her gaze. “I don’t care,” you deadpan even if tears cloud your eyes, even if you feel like sobbing and screaming, even if you want to curl up in a ball.

You stand up and step away from the pair to look for a way out.

“You can do this, I promise!” Layla tries to comfort him now. Marc. Steven whoever the hell he goes by. “Steven…”

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Of course he can’t. No surprise.

You scoff and turn away to run over and check the windows.

“I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“It’s alright,” Layla continues to comfort him. “It’s all right. Okay. We’ll just find another way.”

Layla then joins you and tries to search with you. However he doesn’t follow, he stays and continues to panic, this time he spews out nonsense as the doors get barged open.

“Jackal. Jackal. Jackal!”

You look over but see nothing. “What jackal?” You ask and then look over at him as he steps back and keeps pointing at nothing.

“Jackal. Jackal…” he then trails off as he suddenly gets shoved out the window.

Without thinking you gasp and rush over to the broken window. “No,” you yell.

But once you look over you see him land perfectly, like, in a weird hero pose.

“Is he okay?” Layla asks.

You nod and sigh in relief. “Yep. He just…landed.” You remember your anger and betrayal and look away to continue finding a way out for yourself, not for him.

Thankfully, Layla finds a fire escape and you climb down on the side of the building. Now albeit, Layla wants to find Marc, so you stick with her.

And luckily as you were going to walk out of the alleyway, Marc comes crashing through another wall. This time he’s dressed differently though. You’ve seen his suit before, it’s quite cool if you should admit, but this one doesn’t have a cape, there’s no gold crescent moon on his chest, no hood. He’s just in a suit. A plain white suit.

Regardless, he quickly finds his footing and proceeds to tear a bumper off a car.

“You look different,” Layla stammers seconds before Marc gets pushed to the floor and then gets pulled back. You would’ve questioned it, the invisible jackal, but there's really no need. It all must be a part of how he has his powers. It’s inconvenient though, not being able to see whatever is attacking and shoving Marc to cars.

“Stay away from me!” Marc yells as Layla tries to approach him.

“Away from what?!” She exclaims before she gets shoved back to the ground.

“Layla!” You exclaim and run over to her.

Marc keeps getting attacked, he begins to get pulled off the ground and seems to be getting choked, not letting Layla accept your offer to help her off the ground because she quickly insists on grabbing a bottle by your feet to throw it at whatever has Marc held up against the car.

When the bottle crashes, the liquid within creates a silhouette of a jaw opening as the monster roars.

Layla proceeds to try and attack it, but it suddenly grabs her too and shoves her and Marc back.

“Fuck,” you murmur and pull your braclet apart to get ahold of your daggers. The monster seems to see your action as he lets the pair go because he growls your way; you feel it’s breath on your face, but don’t see it. So you don’t let it intimidate you. Instead you sprint towards it, but miss hitting anything, instead it continues to push Marc back again.

“Fuck you,” you grimace in annoyance before you pull your arm up and throw your hand down, managing to finally stab some flesh. However, the monster quickly retaliates and hits you back so hard you hit the ground.

You try to quickly push yourself to your feet, but suddenly something cold wraps around your ankles before it drags you back, making you scream.

“Y/N!” Layla yells and tries to fight it off, but it just shoves her back since she can’t see what his position is exactly.

“Get off!” You yell and twist around to begin kicking it. The monster then proceeds to pick you off the ground though and dangles you off the ground with ease. You try to continue kicking it, you try to reach for something in your pockets, but Marc then rushes over with something and hits it before Layla comes over too and stabs it with a dagger you dropped.

Just as it drops you though, it hits Marc and tries to hit Layla but she slides her feet back and dodges.

“Are you okay?” You mutter to Layla in between pants.

She nods and meets your gaze. “You?”

You nod and take back your daggers. “Yep, just trying to figure this invisible thing out.”

“I think I can. Get away from them, you,” Marc shouts, causing you to look over to see him prancing around and taunting it. “Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote. You’re in the wrongs ends, mate. You’re in my yard now.” He pulls his suit jacket off and throws it on the ground. “Yeah, come on. Come on. That’s right. Come on.”

You stand up to your feet and slightly narrow your gaze as you watch Marc slowly going back into the busy street.

“Ooh, lookie here. Lookie here. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V. Oh, my God. Here you come, come on!” He shouts before he swings arm.

“Did he hit it?” You mumble and pat your pockets to try and find your gadgets.

Layla shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“Wagwan!” Marc exclaims. “I did it! You got planted!” He laughs as he points ahead of him. “Layla! Girls! Did you see that?”

You narrow your gaze and pull out a paralyzing agent. You don’t intend to answer, just smile awkwardly, but then Marc gets thrown back towards the street, causing traffic to stop, and people to finally gawk.

“I just need to see it,” you mumble and slowly begin to sneak forward towards the spot Marc got hit. “And I can hit.” Since this place is a residential area you don’t bother to get out any explosives as small as they are.

Then again if it gets in the right position you can throw it in his mouth, or Marc can since he sees it.

That’s a smart idea.

“Okay, Layla, let’s go towards it,” you say even if you don’t bother to stop and let her contradict.

She wasn’t of course, but you still gave her no time to argue before you quickened your pace to run to the street.

And just as you’re going to go near Marc as he keeps getting slammed against the bus, you stop as a car comes rushing forward. Marc steps back albeit and it’s possible that he pushes the monster in front of the car to get it run over. You can't really tell since he gets thrown back, but the car didn't seem like it hit him so he couldn’t have made such a big dent.

Regardless you still can’t help but be worried as he doesn’t move. “Hey,” you call out. “Are you—” you cut yourself as you see him beginning to push himself up, he then looks behind him and when you follow his line of gaze, you just see people getting pushed back. That’s it.

The corner of your lips tug to a slight before you break into a sprint towards it.

“Y/N, no, stop!” You hear Layla yell, but you ignore her.

Once you reach the spot people are getting pushed at by nothing, you activate the paralyzing agent and slam it against a big spot that’s between the people. And luckily the monster roars out, you can once again feel its breath and hear it in front of you, but it doesn’t move…

It doesn’t hit you, you don’t feel dry and cold skin slap across your face, or feel it grab your feet. It works again.

It works!

Before the paralyzing agent can wear off, you pull out your dagger and stab its flesh. It roars again so you pull out the small explosive and try to throw it towards where you feel its breath, and feel its spit come out as it roars. But before you can even activate the gadget something cold suddenly wraps around your throat. It lifts you off the ground and moves forwards to slam your back against a brick wall.

You groan and feel sharp pain radiate from your back and the back of your head. It continues to squeeze your throat, blocking out the air that came through, making you begin to gasp and hit at its arms, causing your eyesight to blur and the sounds around you to sound muffled with how fast your heart was racing.

Layla calls out for you, you can hear the muffled sound of your name, but you don’t see her or feel this thing let you go. You try to reach for something to hit it with in the meanwhile, but it slams you against the wall again.

Just as it seems like it might take you out, suddenly it roars before its grip slips off your throat and makes you hit the floor, letting you finally breathe in air again with every deep gasp.

“Hey, hey,” you hear clearer now and recognize that deep voice. “You’re okay. You’re good.”

You rub your throat and look up to see Marc in the old suit now.

“Wolf,” he says without an accent and makes you stare at him in confusion. “You’re okay. You did good.” He grabs your arm to try and help you up, but even if you can breathe again because of him, even if he calls you those names that have a way to reassure you, at the sound of his actual normal voice you grow angry again and rip your arm out of his grip to help yourself up.

Before he can say anything in the respect, the monster roars again.

“Get it out of here!” Layla instructs, and without a second of hesitation Marc runs away and you assume the monster does too, letting Layla and you return to your scooters.

Yet before you can even make it far on your scooters, both Layla and you stop as you see the same older gentleman from before talking to a man.

“I’m sorry, but that belongs to me.”

You can’t see what it is he wants from the man, but you assume it’s the scarab since he’s wasting his time trying to convince the man to hand it over.

“I can offer you food, clothing, but I am unable to offer you this. Thank you.” The older gentleman then grabs the man’s hand as he continues to speak. “I wish you could live to see the world we make.” Then the man's body gets pulled up for a few seconds before he just drops…

The older gentleman lifts the scarab you now see in his hand and looks at it for a few seconds, before he looks over and catches Layla and you staring.

And it’s at that moment that his eyes land on you that Layla drives off, and you follow her home since Marc handled the monster and Layla assumes he wouldn't go home since he knew that’s where you’d find him.

——

*LATER*

“…and if that man has the scarab that means he’s going to go to Ammit’s tomb,” Layla shares as she begins to pack a bag. “Khonshu doesn’t want that, he wants the scarab for himself too, so it means Marc is going there too. Which means we’re going there.”

You hum and stay quiet, you don’t agree or add anything on the matter, you stay sitting at the edge of her bed and just fiddle with your fingers.

Right away Layla notices your silence, she sees the way you’re sitting with your head down, and your back hunched and knows something is wrong.

“You should be packing,” she interjects.

You shake your head. “No,” you mumble. “I’m not going to Egypt with you. I’m going back home, back to Chicago. My grandpa is alone now, I’ll stay with him until I need to go to New York.” You sigh and lift your hand to pull off the gold crescent moon necklace that Marc had gifted you years ago.

“What, but I thought we were doing this together,” Layla argues, and you hear footsteps approaching. “I understand it might be dangerous, but you wanted to do this, don't let him stop you.”

You swallow thickly and sigh. “You heard him,” you mumble. “You heard what he said, I’m not going to go after someone who doesn’t care about me. If he doesn’t want to be a father anymore he doesn’t have to. I’m nineteen now, he has no legal obligation.” You stand up and try to storm off but Layla grabs your arm and turns you to face her.

“I don’t think it was him who said that,” she tries to argue in his defense. “I think that was someone else. Someone your dad didn’t talk to us about.”

You hold her gaze for a second all seriously before you chuckle and shake your head. “You expect me to believe that? He’s obviously lying, he’s making all that shit about being Steven Grant who doesn’t remember his past life, who has a completely new one to run from his old life. To run from me, from you.” You huff out of frustration and pull your arm away from her hand.

“So I’m done, I’m done trying to look for him, and trying to reconnect. He left me for a reason, Layla,” you mutter in a quivering voice. “I’ll respect it.” You turn to head to your room, but she stops you as you reach the door.

“For me then? Come to Egypt for me.” She continues to approach you, and you drop your head and groan. “I need your help. Your gadgets and your brains.”

She’s talking you up. Great.

“Egypt…” you pause and let out a deep breath. “Is a big place, how will you find him?”

Layla comes to a stop behind you, and you practically hear her smirk. “Maybe you have a way to find him?”

You do.

“I do,” you reveal with a slow cocky smirk tugging on your lips.

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