Content warnings: canon warnings and triggers for the media used and referenced; uncensored cussing (including the word 'bitch' used derogatorily)
Media: Moon Knight Season 1 Episode 3 "The Friendly Type"; Primeval tie-in novel Fire and Water by Simon Guerrier
Word Count: 4,992
Night fell as they cruised down the Nile, the multicolored lights of the glorious nighttime cityscape on either side as their own felucca's lights flooded Sarah's vision with purple, the violet and amethystine filtering over all other colors.
Marc and Layla sat apart- from the partyers on the boat and each other. Feeling a little uncomfortable at the way the two more or less glared at each other from opposite sides of the boat, Sarah decided to remain neutral and sit down between them, relatively speaking.
"So what exactly are we gonna do here? What's the plan?"
"Oh. It's not pleasant being left in the dark, is it?" Layla mocked saccharinely.
Marc looked away for a moment, smothering the look of irritation that had brought to his features. "Okay. I get that you're not happy about me leaving so quickly and coming to Cairo. I understand."
"Wait, is that your apology?" Marc went to continue, but Layla wasn't done being sarcastic. "That's good. That's really good."
"Just so we can get through tonight, maybe let's just give our shit a rest for a moment and just try to strategize before we get to…." He gestured vaguely in the direction they were heading, but trailed off as he realized he didn't know the name of the person they were going to see.
"Mogart's."
"…Mogart."
"Just so you know, I'm not here to help you." Layla snapped. "I'm here for me and for everyone else who would die if Harrow succeeds, and for Sarah, because she'd have come running after you and Steven with or without me and I actually kind of like her and don't want her to die because she gives a damn."
"I am so not getting involved in this." Sarah said, pushing to her feet. "I'm getting a drink for me and privacy for you." With that, she strolled away, in search of something alcoholic. She was rather relieved that Layla had come to like her, even a little, as it meant she was probably safe from being harmed or betrayed by her. Also, she believed Layla to be a decent person with a moral character, so she appreciated the tentative friendship.
The music changed, and at least one of the partyers started ululating to the song. Sarah got up and took her time weaving through the partying people and getting her drink, hoping to give the estranged couple the space and time they needed to resolve their argument enough to get on with the three's (four's?) shared goal. When she looked back at them, she was both surprised and relieved to see them leaning forward in their seats, their hands all together. Neither of them looked angry or annoyed anymore. She smiled softly. She didn't know either of them too well, but she believed them to be good people who truly did care about each other, and she disliked the idea of people like Harrow and Khonshu coming between a married couple. She did wonder, though, how Steven would factor into their relationship.
They leaned back again, hands separating, and Layla tied her hair back. Deciding that the tender moment was over, Sarah returned to them, carrying her drink. "Are you two done fighting?"
"It's a truce at the very least." Marc replied.
They came to a stop at a dock, and Marc climbed out first. Layla all but threw her bag into his chest before stepping out herself, turning to offer Sarah a hand, but Sarah was already getting out.
"This guy's got a lot of friends." Marc noted.
"Yeah, and a lot with guns." Layla warned.
"Great." Sarah sighed. "More people potentially trying to kill me. I should be used to this by now."
Marc stashed the bag away in the dock, but something on the water caught his eye. "What is it?" Layla asked as he stood. "Harrow's men keeping tabs?"
Sarah saw it now- a small rubber dinghy a dozen or so meters away, moving slowly with a couple men inside. "I don't know. It could be." Marc admitted.
"Well, if it is them, hopefully they won't come after us here. They'd probably not want to get themselves killed, or risk damaging something that might help them find and serve Ammit in a firefight." Sarah said, trying to be optimistic and convince herself as she spoke.
Neither of her companions appeared relieved by her statements, but neither spoke against her. "Let's go." Layla said instead, and lead their way into the crowd. Shoulders squared, Sarah walked on Layla's side opposite Marc. "Remember, your name is Rufino Estrada."
"Right. We just got back from our honeymoon in the Maldives. That's an interesting little detail to give to them."
"I'd tell them you worked in a gift shop, but they'd never believe me, would they?" She returned.
"And I'm Tia Karim, your second cousin and occasional partner in crime looking to get my hands a little dirtier." Sarah reiterated her cover to Layla. "Sure they'll buy it?"
"You're an Egyptologist; your interest is genuine and you're knowledgeable. That'll help." Layla replied as they reached their destination. A fenced-in arena of sorts held a handful of men well and truly jousting on horseback, minus the medieval armor. In the background were two relatively small glass and metal pyramids, both illuminated from within.
"Bek." Layla greeted as a black man in a suit came up to them.
"Layla." He returned, sounding somewhere between friendly and courteous.
"It's been a while." The Egyptian woman commented, clapping her hand into Bek's and shaking it.
"It's good to see you. Right this way."
"Thank you." Layla took Marc's hand, then unexpectedly hooked her elbow through Sarah's. "Stay close, try not to look nervous." She whispered.
"He's looking forward to seeing you." Bek said, seemingly having not heard Layla's words. "After Madripoor I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about. Excuse me for one moment. Mr. Mogart will be with you shortly."
"So, what- this joker just puts on El-Mermah games in his backyard for fun?" Marc questioned cynically, observing the joust.
"No, he gets private lessons by the best in his backyard." Layla corrected.
"Cool." Marc returned, clearly not finding it 'cool'. "I like the robe." He seemed to mock as a white man- Mogart, probably- got off his horse and had what looked like a velvet robe put onto him by Bek.
"Layla. Come in." The man said, confirming Sarah's suspicions. "Such a delight to see you."
"You too." Her greeting seemed less genuine than it was to Bek, something Sarah took note of. She extended her hand, which Mogart kissed. Sarah fought down a cringe.
"How have you been?"
"Good. Thank you for having us over on such short notice."
"Oh, please. I hope you realize you need no excuse to drop by." Something about the way he said it seemed suggestive to Sarah. She hoped Marc wouldn't ruin their mission by thrashing him until it was over.
Layla laid a hand on Marc's shoulder. "This is my husband, Rufino."
After a minute, Marc extended his hand. "Nice to meet you." Lied Marc.
"Pleasure." Mogart replied, eventually deigning to shake his hand. His eyes cut to Sarah. "And who is this lovely creature?"
"My cousin, Tia." Layla answered, her voice holding a sharp edge that it hadn't possessed during Marc's introduction.
Bracing herself as subtly as possible, Sarah extended her hand, and very carefully did not show a trace of the disgust she felt when Mogart kissed her hand. The moment he let go of her hand, Sarah hooked her arm through Layla's.
Together, the four of them headed toward one of the glass and metal pyramids. "I hope you understand this is more than a collection to me." Mogart said. "Preserving history is a responsibility I take very seriously."
"A self-appointed responsibility that you alone were able to enjoy, no?" Layla casually called him out on his rubbish.
"Well, I prefer to see it as a… philanthropic effort at preservation. Now, if I may ask, why such interest in Senfu in particular?"
Layla nudged Sarah ever-so-subtly, prodding her to speak. Putting on her tour guide voice with just a hint of boastfulness she often heard in Lester's voice- what she wouldn't do to have her old boss appear and smoothly bully Mogart into giving it to them-, she said, "I have a rather impressive collection of ancient Egyptian artefacts and historical items myself. Medjays like Senfu often go overlooked by collectors, archaeologists, so-called 'experts'…" she let resentment and disdain bleed into her tone. "As you surely already know, in many historical texts, Senfu was tasked by several members of the Ennead: Shu, Nut, Atum-Ra, and Hathor most prominently. Such a prominent figure would have been given important duties and was obviously rewarded with special treatment after death." She gave him a smile, saccharine and brilliant. "It isn't you I doubt, Mr. Mogart, but who sold it to you. I'm something of a cryptozoologist, and hieroglyphs are my specialty."
He canted his head with a shrug. "I understand. What about you?" He glanced at the couple.
"Oh, actually our purchases-" Layla began.
Mogart cut her off. "I'm sorry- I'd like to hear from your husband, if you don't mind."
On the spot, Marc struggled. "I think that… well, I think that I just would love to take a look."
"Funny man." Mogart said, watching him suspiciously. "Feel free." He indicated the pyramid containing Senfu's remains. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, masking it with a (hopefully) charming smile. The three of them entered the structure.
"Please, just let Steven out before you blow this." Layla requested of her husband.
"Not a chance." He refused. "Whatever we need from myths and lore, Sarah can do. Alright, what do you see?"
"I'm not a sodding encyclopedia, or all-knowing." Sarah snapped. Nevertheless, she began inspecting the sarcophagus.
"Well, the burial practices are in line with the Studenwachen texts." Layla reported.
"The what?"
"Studenwachen- that's one of the most critically-acclaimed Egyptian source texts in the Egyptology world." Sarah replied.
"It's legit." Layla agreed. "But all I'm seeing is literature to guide the dead."
"And no references to any special locations or tasks performed by the deceased." Sarah agreed with a disappointed sigh.
"Okay, um…" Marc spoke up in a whisper, sighing. "Will you two give me a minute? I just have to- I gotta talk to Steven." Sarah's heart jumped at the name of her friend. "Just keep him occupied."
"I'm not going anywhere." Sarah refuted. "Especially if you're calling in Steven."
"I'll delay Mogart, you two- three, whatever- work this out." Layla agreed, stepping out of the peaked structure before Marc could argue.
Sarah fixed Marc with a firm stare. "Don't even try to push me out of this."
Marc sighed, but returned his gaze to Senfu's corpse. "Alright Steven, you wanna talk to me, talk to me. What now?" After a moment, his head raised, and he glared at the reflective panes of glass. "Damn it, there's not time for this." He gritted out. "If there's something that you know, you gotta tell me."
"Please, Steven." Sarah took a chance by speaking.
"You want a bloodbath? Huh? Fine, have it your way." Marc snapped at Steven.
Sarah spoke again. "If you can hear me, please listen to me and help us. Look, I'd love to chat with you again without going through him, but this right here in front of us is bigger than anything else at the moment. Neither of us want Ammit to rise, and if you help, we might be able to prevent that."
Marc's gaze traveled to the cartonnage. "Okay, what do I do?" A moment later, he pointed to a part of it. "This one?" Then, he picked it up carefully, only to fold the sides of that piece underneath it. "Like this?" He set it back down. "Wait a second…." He picked up another piece and began folding it, but didn't get very far.
Bek had entered the pyramid without either of them noticing, and seized Marc by the arm, pulling him away. "Hey, what are you doing?" He demanded.
"Do we fight?" Sarah burst out in a panicked question.
Marc responded by combating the security guard, his moves to quick for Sarah to track and process, and a moment later he was pointing Bek's own gun at him. "If necessary." He replied.
"Marc!" Layla's voice at the doorway drew their attention, and to Sarah's horror she found the other woman standing with her hands up in surrender, two armed men pointing pistols at her. "Don't."
"Shit!" Marc swore in a low hiss. Reluctantly, he handed the gun back to Bek, who promptly snatched it out of his hands and leveled it at Marc.
Mogart stepped inside the pyramid. "Do you really think I'm an idiot?" He sneered at Marc, stepping up aggressively close to him and ignoring Sarah entirely. "Get on your knees."
"Anton, stop!" Layla begged.
"Get on your knees!" Repeated Anton, more angrily this time. "You too, bitch." He spat at Sarah.
The Egyptologist didn't even bristle at the insult, swallowing thickly as she raised her hands and lowered herself into a kneel, one leg at a time. Heart pounding in her chest, she watched anxiously, eyes darting from person to person.
Satisfied that they were both kneeling, Mogart turned back to Layla. "Layla. I was so ready to make peace with you." He sneered.
"You don't understand. We're trying to save many lives." Layla implored.
"There is a whole literal cult out there that wants to find something Senfu buried and unleash it on the world." Sarah supplied, voice shaking but clear. "If we can get to it first, we can prevent millions of deaths, if not more."
"Hey, pal." Marc spoke up, bringing Mogart's attention from the women to himself. He gestured to Senfu's body with his head. "Take a look inside the sarcophagus. There's something really, really big."
Hesitantly, Mogart went over to it, and Bek stepped up beside him to rattle some French into his ear. Sarah didn't understand any of it.
He turned away from the sarcophagus, examining their facial expressions as he declared the news: "Well, that's interesting. It appears we have a concerned third party here."
"Harrow." Sarah breathed in dread. "Mogart, please, if that's who we think it is, he's the one that wants to unleash the weapon. He's willing to slaughter innocents if they don't align perfectly with twisted ideals."
But he ignored her, stepping out of the pyramid with an order to rise.
"Whatever they've told you, I'm sure I can offer you something much more tangible." None other than Arthur Harrow told Mogart, striding in in his usual matching grape-purple outfit with Ammit's cane staff thingy in his hand. On either side he was flanked by a black-clad lackey.
"Like mass destruction and the murder of children?" Sarah called out accusingly.
He ignored her, holding out his free hand. The scarab rose from his palm, hovering there. "Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?" He coaxed.
"But it's not treasure you're after." Sarah insisted.
"Anton, Anton, don't listen to his man." Layla broke in. "He's trying to stop us from reaching-"
"Please, stop." Mogart cut in.
Sarah took a page from her enemies' book and ignored him, directing her words toward Harrow. "You're trying to unleash Ammit, and you said yourself that she will bring a slaughter with her. You said that she would even kill children. Please, Mr. Mogart, I'm begging you, don't help him."
"He's gonna kill millions, trust me!" Layla agreed.
"Are you seriously talking about trust?" Sneered Anton back.
"Please." Harrow interrupted. "There's no need to descend into violent accusations." He began walking toward them. "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 father's murder from reopening."
Sarah's eyes widened. Murder? At Lagaro's workshop Sarah had learned that the man was dead, but neither woman had given any indication that foul play had been involved.
"But something stands in your way- your husband doesn't tell you the truth." Harrow continued.
Sarah was suddenly sick at the implication. When his minions- 'Fitzgerald and Kennedy'- had kidnapped her and Steven, the woman had revealed that Marc was a mercenary who had participated in a hit on a group of archaeologists, all of whom had been quite obviously murdered. And Layla's father was an archaeologist… and dead. Whether Marc had been responsible for the man's death, that was certainly what Harrow intended for Layla to believe.
"And Marc, you don't tell her because you know that if you do, she'll see you exactly as you see yourself- as unworthy of love."
"You piece of shit." Marc muttered venomously.
"Yeah, shut the bloody hell up." Sarah rolled her eyes. "I don't think a supporter of pedicide has a right to pass judgement on whether or not someone is worthy of love- or interfere in someone's marriage."
Harrow's blue-eyed gaze moved to the Egyptologist. "And you, Sarah, you're lost, aren't you? I did some research on you. You have a birth certificate, a driver's license, a flat… but your first legitimate documentation is only six months old. You turned up at a hospital in the middle of the night with serious injuries, found unconscious outside. You still haven't paid all your bills. You're running from something, and I have no idea how many time you must've changed your identity to escape it."
Sarah frowned. She would've expected a man who was Avatar to one primordial god and indirectly served another to be a little more open-minded about her origins.
"You know nothing about me." She declared. "And you know nothing about right and wrong, about the greater good, about justice."
"Anton-" Harrow turned to him and held up the cane, which was glowing purple again. Sarah gulped, certain that he was about to unleash another jackal on them. "-the lore surrounding these relics… I offer proof that it's real." He moved away from Anton, eyes locking onto Senfu's sarcophagus. "This sarcophagus… it doesn't belong to anyone."
The lights flickered, and Sarah's mocha eyes went to Marc, whose own gaze was trained on something high in the distance. It was likely Khonshu again, and right now Sarah wished in a moment of desperation and despair that she were his Avatar, so that she could transform into a powerful figure and stop Harrow before things went to the dogs.
"Anton, would you like to see for yourself?" Offered Harrow.
The collector nodded. "Yes, I do."
The wind picked up, stirring dramatically around them- whether a sign of Khonshu's power or Ammit's, Sarah didn't know- as Harrow raised the cane. The violet energy grew as Harrow began to chant in Coptic- the same one he had used to summon the jackal in the commune, from what Sarah could tell- and the lights began flickering madly again. Harrow's chants grew louder, more emphatic, but instead of Marc seeing a jackal, they all saw a purple mist form around Senfu's sarcophagus, swirling around it.
"No!" Sarah shouted, but she was powerless to do anything but watch in horror as their lead was destroyed. The powerful cloud vanished, and Harrow turned away triumphantly.
"That's just a taste of the godly power I offer." He boasted enticingly to Mogart.
"'Offer'?" Sarah seethed, anger sprouting from both her dismay at the loss of the sarcophagus before their research was finished and every one of Harrow's past actions that she was aware of. "Like you offered food and clothing to that poor sod in London before you murdered him instead? You didn't even use the cane to see if he was a bad person or not; you just outright murdered him when his only crime was having innocently picked up your precious scarab!"
But he ignored her, departing calmly with only a final glance over his shoulder- though Sarah got the impression it was meant for Marc or Layla more than her. Sarah scowled after him anyway.
"Hey, he's gone!" An unfamiliar male voice called.
Sarah turned to discover that 'he' was Marc.
"Where is he?" Mogart demanded.
In unintentional sync, Sarah and Layla's gazes lifted and moved to the same place at the same time: the peaked top of the pyramid that housed the paltry ashen remains of Senfu's sarcophagus. Marc stood there, clad once again in the lunar armor, his eyes glowing visibly even to them with the same silvery-white light of the first quarter moon glowing through the thin clouds behind him. He made for an imposing figure- perhaps intimidating to Mogart and his band of idiotic thugs, but a symbol of hope and security to Sarah and Layla more than Superman and Captain America ever were.
Bek was the first to act, hauling Mogart to the side. Marc hurled a crescent blade down, killing the man guarding Layla and Sarah. He hit the ground and Layla wasted no time bending down to snatch the man's weapon up for herself.
Another guard fired at Marc with his pistol, but it seemed ineffectual as Marc leapt down, his cloak flying outward to spread into a- lo and behold- crescent moon shape. He made his landing by planting both feet into the shooter's chest, bringing him straight to the ground.
The crowd of civilian onlookers screamed and clamored as they fled, but the jousters prepared for battle as their horses whinnied. Layla was shooting down guards, and Sarah looked around frantically for a firearm of her own. The first time she had ever taken a human life- a day and event she had long tried to push to the back of her mind- she had tried to console herself with the technicality that she only trapped them with a creature that then did the actually killing for her, though her traitorous brain reminded her that that was called 'murder by proxy'. She had never used her stolen gun to shoot and kill anyone, but now it looked like she was going to have to.
She ended up snatching the pistol from the man who had shot at Marc, but had no chance to use it before a half-dozen or more men advanced on them, all shooting at the three. Sarah whirled and her eyes caught on Layla- the former running to the latter as he grabbed the sides of his cloak. His head turned to Sarah and he beckoned her over with it, and she wasted no time dashing over to them. Half a second later, Marc whipped the garment around all three of them. Bullets struck it without penetrating, implying it was much more than just grey cloth.
"Buy me some time." Layla told Marc, looking up at him from the shelter of his cloak.
"I can do that." He asserted. His head turned slightly toward Sarah, since merely turning his eyes would be a useless gesture. "Watch her back."
Sarah nodded gravely. "I will." She assured. She tightened her sweaty-palmed grip on the plastic handle of the gun.
Marc whipped his cloak from around them, using the momentum to spin through the air at a diagonal and fling all the bullets caught by his cape at the shooters, killing most or all of them.
That was all Sarah had time to see before she had to focus entirely on Layla, who was making a mad dash for what was left of Senfu's sarcophagus. Sarah paused in the pyramid's doorway, gun clasped in both hands as she turned her back to Layla. "Is there anything left?" She queried, risking a glance over her shoulder.
Layla hurriedly rifled through the paltry remains. "I think so. Hope it'll be enough."
Sarah let out a tiny sigh of relief, but as she turned her head back to face outside again, something hard struck her temple and she found herself sprawled on the sandy ground, the impact of her landing loosening her grip on the gun enough for the weapon to leave her hold. Dazed, she watched Bek step over her immobilized form, staring Layla down.
Layla didn't hesitate to fight the man she'd been friendly toward, flinging a handful of shards of glass from the sarcophagus at his face before kicking him in the groin and snatching up something Sarah didn't have the presence of mind to identify to hit him with. He knocked it from her grasp and the two engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
Sarah willed herself to utilize the adrenaline coursing through her veins to overcome the pain and dizziness from Bek's blow. With a whimpering grunt, she rolled onto her stomach, planting her hands to push herself up. One hand left the ground, reaching for the gun and she shoved herself toward it, chest meeting the earth again as her sandy palm landed on the grip.
Suddenly, Layla landed facedown on the ground beside her, having been thrown around by Bek. The Egyptian woman raised herself partially off the ground, reaching up to grab her necklace and literally break it apart. Sarah, pushing herself up again and dragging the gun to point in front of her (albeit still resting on the ground), turned her swimming head to look at her. They exchanged nods, a hundred unspoken words passing between them- not in a romantic way, but in an assurance that they were both alright enough and were going to handle the situation together.
Layla was on her feet first as Bek more or less charged with a knife. She slashed at him with both pieces of her necklace- one deflecting his own blade toward his stomach and away from her, the other slicing at his face. She took a running leap at Bek, backing him against the sarcophagus as she embedded the ends of her necklace halves into his chest with a yell.
She didn't stick around to watch her maybe-friend's passing; she whirled around and rushed back toward the entrance, stopping to extend an arm to Sarah. The British woman clasped her hand just below Layla's elbow, the Egyptian mimicking her hold and pulling her to her feet. "You alright?" Layla asked as they ran outside.
"Might have a concussion, but I can fight. For now."
"Good enough." Layla declared, swiping a handgun off the ground since she'd apparently lost hers.
Sarah was horrified to see Marc in the jousting arena- more specifically, that Marc was pinned down on his knees by several lances and spears literally piercing through him, the Avatar held in place by several men.
Layla planted a hand on the fence and swung herself over it with ease as she ran for her husband; Sarah took a few seconds longer, placing both hands on it (although one was mostly occupied with the gun) and halfway sitting on it as she brought her legs over. She blamed the head injury.
Nonetheless, both women were now in the arena- literally and metaphorically- and Layla raised her gun and shot down a rider heading for Marc with another spear in his hand. Neither woman noticed Anton similarly riding toward them until it was too late. He struck Layla from behind with his own weapon, taking them both down by domino-effect.
"Layla!" Marc's voice, somewhere between terrified and furious, rang out in the night air. When it hurt less, Sarah would reflect on how concerned he was for his wife despite at least three javelins going entirely through his body and anchoring him to the ground.
Sarah, having landed on her back instead of eating the ground again, brought the gun clasped in both hands to point at Anton as he rode up to a cylindrical object from which even more spears protruded. Adjusting her aim just enough to hopefully avoid hitting the horse, she kept the muzzle of her weapon trained on him as Layla slowly moved off her.
Sarah rolled onto her stomach, sparing a glance toward Marc just before the mask and hood reformed over his face and head, eyes bright once more as he burst into action, breaking and ejecting the spears and defeating the men in just a few seconds. When Sarah looked back toward Anton, she realized what had given him the strength to do so- the collector was now positioned directly across from Marc, Sarah and Layla in his path. If he charged Marc like it looked like he planned to, the women would be trampled.
Moving faster than Sarah though possible, she drew her legs up under herself and kicked off, plowing her body a few feet forward in the sand and out of harm's way. Marc sprinted forward as Anton charged and grabbed Layla, rolling with her out of danger's path. But even as Marc drew a semicircular blade from his chest to end the man, Sarah- who didn't see him doing that- raised her gun once more and finally squeezed off a shot. The bullet caught Anton a few inches below his neck, and his grunt of pain was punctuated by his dead body thumping to the ground a half-second before his horse vanished into the fog.
Panting with exertion, Sarah rolled onto her back and lifted her head to check on Layla and Marc. The latter was on one knee, helping Layla to her feet almost identically to how the woman had gotten Sarah up just minutes earlier. "You okay?" He asked.
"Yeah." Layla panted out. "Sarah?"
"I'm alright." Sarah fudged, knowing that she was asking about life-threatening injuries more than anything. "But I really need a paracetamol."
"We have medical supplies in the bag." Layla assured, staggering toward her with Marc right beside her. He reached down and Sarah took his hand, allowing him to pull her up.
"Do you have it?" Marc asked Layla.
"Yeah. We need a car."
"Yeah, come on."