Content warnings: uncensored cussing, canon triggers in this portion of the episode; canon triggers from Fire and Water (vvv) including death/murder (by proxy), mentions of death by dinosaur and the threat of being shot; mentions of blood/bloodshed; Sarah wanting to murder (Let Sarah Kill Harrow 2025); someone is stabbed with a spoon but not like a knife stab; mentions of vomiting but no actual vomiting occurs; mentions of the events of the prologue
Media: Moon Knight Season 1 Episode 2 "Summon The Suit"; Primeval canon tie-in novel Fire and Water by Simon Guerrier; Primeval S3E1
Word count: 7,081
Steven was not, however, too upset and distressed to openly try to get out of his handcuffs. Sarah sat by the other door stiffly, back ramrod-straight to avoid the gun pressing into her spine uncomfortably. She wasn't worried about appearing innocent of crimes- the only façade she needed to wear at the moment was one of passive obedience. Then, when the moment came, Sarah would grab her gun and get herself and Steven away from these shmucks, Ammit worshippers or no.
"Wow, lookie lookie." The woman said, casually taunting as she stared at the screen of the open computer on her lap. "Guess what we've got here, Billy?"
"Go on, tell me." Billy encouraged.
"We've only got ourselves a full-blown international fugitive."
"It's not… it's a mistake." Steven insisted. "It's not me."
They weren't listening to him. "Marc Spector was part of a team of mercenaries that hit a dig site in Egypt. Here's what they did to the archaeologists." Sarah could just make out the woman turning the laptop and Billy glancing down at it. Looking back at Steven, she continued, "Zip-tied and shot in the back of the head execution-style."
"That's dark, man."
"No no no, I didn't do that. That's not me." Steven insisted.
"Of course you didn't… Steven." The woman spoke, and Sarah couldn't tell if she was being mocking or sincere.
Finally, they pulled up next to an unmarked building, off the main roads. "I thought we were going to the police station." Steven spoke up.
Billy adjusted the rearview mirror to make better eye contact with Steven and Sarah. "Now why would you think that?"
"I don't think they're coppers, Steven." Sarah said lowly, though she wasn't trying to keep them from hearing her. "They barged right into your flat without a warrant or your permission, and I know that's illegal. They were looking for something- or someone-, but when they couldn't find that, they nabbed us on anything they could. They couldn't even prove you'd stolen anything, and they didn't do any checking to see if maybe you do have a twin brother called 'Marc Spector' who was adopted at birth and left his passport in your flat. They had no reason to think I had helped you commit any crimes. They just cuffed us and shoved us in the car without reading us our rights."
"Somebody's got a brain." The woman remarked. "Sit tight, yeah?" She and Billy both got out of the car, and a moment later, a sports ball bounced off Steven's door window, causing them both to jump. Steven recovered his wits and started knocking- if you could call it that- on the window with his head, trying to communicate with the kid responsible as Sarah increased her lockpicking efforts.
"Hello! Hello! Excuse me! Could you help me? Help, please, we've been kidnapped-" he cut himself off abruptly as the girl looked over her shoulder with a deadpan expression on her face. "She's one too." He breathed.
"One what?" Sarah grunted, fingers cramping.
"A servant of Ammit. She's got that tattoo on her wrist."
Sarah shook her head, disgusted. "They're tattooing kids now? Yeah, definitely a cult, and definitely not good." By some stroke of luck, one side of the cuffs popped open. "Aha!" She brought her hands around the front, wincing as she did so, and quickly got to work picking at the other side of the cuff.
Steven let out a startled noise and panted, and a moment or two later, he spoke. "I saw- saw what you did to those people." He said, causing Sarah to frown. "I'm- I am never giving you control again."
"Marc again?" Sarah guessed, scowling as the second lock proved stubborn.
"Yeah. Ever. Do you hear me?"
A sudden beep from the dashboard startled Sarah, but not as much as Harrow's voice coming out of a walkie-talkie she hadn't noticed before. "I hear you loud and clear, Steven Grant of the gift shop."
Sarah jerked in surprise, abandoning her efforts to get the cuff off her other wrist. A moment later, Steven's door opened and he fell out onto the ground, hands still cuffed behind his back. Sarah glared at Harrow, the creep standing over him, as she subtly shimmied back further toward her own door, one hand reaching for the handle as the other remained unoccupied, just in case she needed to draw the gun.
"I'm sorry for the wait." Said Harrow, crouching down beside Steven. "We just needed a chance to better understand your situation. Do you have the keys?" Their female abductor, who Sarah could just barely see, handed them down to him. "Let's get you out of those cuffs. I see you've already managed to pick the lock on your own, Dr. Page, but I'd like to take the other one off if you'll let me."
Sarah scoffed, watching him release Steven from his bonds. He had tried to murder both of them the night before- by proxy, yes, but he was still the culprit. (she had killed by proxy before, in Tom Samuels' prehistoric oil mining facility, when she'd trapped two of his soldiers with what she later learned was a Postosuchus, leaving them to be devoured in that room. She'd stared down Samuels himself less than an hour later; "I just killed two men," she'd said, warning him and his goons to stand down lest she kill them directly.) He'd tried to kill them, and now he was seeking permission to take handcuffs off her and acting all gentle and kind and casual?
Sarah opened her door and came around the boot of the car as Harrow seemed to boast about her and Steven's kidnappers. On his feet again, he helped Steven stand. "Well, no wonder your scales don't balance- it must be very difficult having all those voices inside one head. Steven Grant… Marc Spector… Khonshu." He adjusted Steven's jacket and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't think that's any of your business." Sarah snapped. He turned to face her, and she thrust her still-cuffed hand out for him to take the band off. "And stop touching him."
He complied. "How are you doing tonight, Sarah?"
She seethed at his casual use of her first name without her permission. "Well, I'd like to be anywhere but here right now." She spat bitingly. "But something tells me I'm not gonna get that."
"You're a smart woman, Sarah, and that's why I think you'll be interested in what I have to offer." He turned back to Steven. "I'm curious- do you think that Khonshu chose you as his Avatar because your mind would be so easy to break or because it was broken already?"
Sarah gaped, both aghast and furious, but Steven defended himself before she could do it for him. "No. I'm not broken. Just need some help, maybe."
"That's right. That's why I'm here- to help." Harrow said in a way that was probably meant to be soothing.
"He didn't ask for your help, and if you really wanted to help him, you wouldn't have tried to murder him last night." Sarah hissed, stepping close to Steven's side. "Or did you forget the bit where you threatened both our lives over the intercom and then set a magic jackal on us?"
Abruptly, a look of terror flooded Steven's features, and Harrow ignored Sarah's remarks to interrogate Steven. "Okay, what is it? Do you see him? You see him right now?" Sarah looked past Harrow, but she could still see nothing out of the ordinary. "That's a privilege I no longer have." Wait, what? "What's he saying, huh? Is he telling you to kill me?"
"Yeah." Steven admitted nervously.
Sarah didn't like anyone who scared or upset Steven, but Khonshu had just raised himself in her esteem by wanting Harrow dead. "How specifically?"
Harrow gave her an unimpressed look. Steven did a double take. "Er- he said to, uh, break his windpipe."
Sarah canted her head. "Not how I'd do it. I'd make it bloody."
"Well, just remember, you don't have to do everything he asks." Harrow told Steven, shooting an irritated look at Sarah. "So before you get exited and put on the cape, I'd love to take this opportunity to show you around. Both of you." Sarah decided that while she wasn't Khonshu's biggest fan- she wasn't really sure what to make of him, or Marc, or his and Marc's Avatar thingy, or their relationship/connection to Steven- Harrow's divide-and-conquer strategy would probably yield a rottener fruit than Khonshu's direction. After all, she and the moon god seemed to agree that Ammit's devoted cultist (and apparent judge, jury, and executioner in her name) needed to go.
Steven jumped and shouted, trying to backpedal away from his current location as a gust of wind suddenly stirred through the alley, a rubbish bin noisily skittering across the cobblestone. "It's alright, it's alright. That's all he can do without your help." Harrow told Steven. Sarah hated the modicum of relief she felt that Khonshu couldn't have much physical interaction with them- after all, she didn't know if he would go after innocents or even her to bully Steven into obeying him or turning bodily control over to Marc The Mercenary. Who she still needed to have a chat with. "Come." Guiding Steven away from Khonshu, he continued, "See, this neighborhood used to have the highest crime rate in all the city."
"Until you swooped in and murdered everyone who had committed a crime, or might one day?" Sarah snarked, elbowing him away from Steven to walk between them and hook her arm through her friend's.
"There was so much suffering, so much pain- good evening, good evening everyone-" he paused his story to greet a handful of apparent cultists, "-it was truly heartbreaking. Now, people don't lock their doors at night. They feel safe. Oh, Chase, are those the tomatoes?" He inquired of a man standing beside a huge amount of wooden crates filled with plants. The man carried one over and Harrow happily gave it a quick look. "Ah, you have a green thumb. Beautiful." The man thanked him and continued on his way. "But you don't wanna tell anyone, no." Harrow continued. "People don't wanna hear good news. They'd rather cling to their fear, cling to their pain."
A goat, bleating as it passed, cut off what Sarah was about to say. "Goat." Steven pointed it out awkwardly, reminding Sarah of the time they had walked together through a park and he had pointed out every single animal he saw.
"What? Yes." Harrow laughed. The same polo ball that had hit Steven's window earlier rolled over to his feet, and he placed one on it to stop its movement before kicking it back over to the same girl, speaking to her in a language Sarah didn't speak. It sounded Eastern Asian, from what she could tell- Mandarin, maybe, or Cantonese. She'd been to Japan once and had heard enough Korean in films and programs on the telly to know it was neither of those.
The girl responded in what Sarah presumed to be the same language, and Harrow replied again with the tone of a joking and friendly taunt or threat. "You all speak Chinese?" Steven asked.
"Uh, Mandarin." Harrow specified. So that was it. "We all aspire to learn three languages- so we teach each other, we share our knowledge." Harrow redirected them out of the alley into a large space surrounded by tall buildings made of either brick or stone.
"Wow." Steven breathed, taking it all in. Several activities were going on at once; in one area, several people were sitting in an array of living room chairs and wearing headphones as they watched dolphins on a screen; in another, more people were tending to racks of plants.
"You hungry?" Harrow asked. "The food's free. You're a vegan, right?"
"Yeah." Confirmed Steven, and Sarah shook her head to herself. Harrow had clearly done his research- very thorough, specific, invasive research.
She wondered if he knew where Steven's mum lived.
She wondered if he knew the truth about her. If he knew where she was really from, what she used to do.
"Yeah, so am I." Harrow said. That seemed awfully convenient and coincidental to Sarah. "You might want to try the lentil soup. I made it this morning."
"After you failed to kill us in the museum?" Sarah reminded. "How do we know you didn't poison it so you wouldn't screw up again?"
"I'm happy to eat a bowl of it in front of you right now, Sarah, if that will allay your concerns." He offered calmly. "I assure you, I have no ill will toward either of you."
She snorted. "Sure seemed like you did last night."
"It's not even my recipe- it's Victor's." He pointed to a young man sitting on a small platform high up on one of the buildings. "Gracias, Victor." He called up, and the lad waved in reply. "He's from the Yucatan. He's… nah, he's very funny." They reached the end of a food buffet line, and Harrow handed a wooden tray to each of them before taking one for himself. Sarah accepted it reluctantly, consoling herself with images of hitting Harrow over the head with it. "Here. I know being on the right side of things is important to you. Khonshu always tries to ensnare those with a strong moral conscience."
Steven jolted, exclaiming in fright as something a few meters behind them was violently disturbed, causing a noise that drew everyone's attention. "You don't have to listen to him." Harrow reminded Steven.
"Convenient of you to say, considering that Khonshu's probably warning Steven that you can't be trusted."
"He probably is." Agreed the cultist as he was given food by someone on the other side of the buffet line. "He often throws temper tantrums like a two-year-old. None of the gods respect him." He continued as Steven and Sarah were each also given a bowl. He led them to a table, where he and Steven sat down. "Perhaps that's why he's banished."
Reluctantly, Sarah joined them, sitting beside Steven. Her gaze went to where his seemed to be pointed, but again she found herself unable to see what he did. "What's he saying now?" Harrow whispered conspiratorially. "'I am real justice'?" He imitated mockingly, reaching for a pepper grinder.
Laughter from the dolphin-watchers drew Steven's attention again briefly before he looked back at Harrow with a skittish look on his face. "Can you hear him?"
What he said next was unexpected: "Not anymore. I was his former Avatar. Before you, I was the fist of vengeance." He took a bite of his soup and made a sound of appreciation. Sarah's stomach growled- she hadn't eaten since breakfast-, but she still didn't trust the food. She collected some broth into her spoon and raised it to her fist, sniffing it cautiously.
"I'm not the fist of anything." Steven replied. "That's the- that's the little American man living inside me."
"And that's, uh, that's Marc?" Harrow guessed.
Steven nodded, taking a bite of his soup. "Soup's… yeah, it's very good. It's ace. Yeah, it's lovely. You should eat, Sarah."
"Khonshu punishes those who have already walked an evil path." Harrow said.
"Like all legal systems in the world, unless there's one that works differently that I've not heard of." Sarah interjected.
"His retribution comes too late. By the time his fist of vengeance arrives, people have already suffered." Harrow insisted.
"I don't know if you know this, Harrow, but Marc- Khonshu's 'fist of vengeance', as you call him- saved my life." Sarah decided to reveal. He looked up at her with an expression of interest, though whether it was genuine or not she wasn't sure. "He came just in time and saved my life. Best case, I'd've bled to death in an alley if he hadn't showed up."
"But you had already suffered." Reasoned Harrow.
Sarah shook her head. "Not from a human. It was a… a wild animal, I guess you could say. It's a long story. But Khonshu and his Avatar protect the vulnerable who travel at night, and that was me. Without Khonshu and Marc and how they work, I wouldn't be sitting here today." She finally conceded and took a bite of the soup, which was delicious to her starving body. She wanted very badly to point out that maybe he'd prefer that, considering how plain her distrust was, and how strong her desire and intention for Steven to also distrust him was.
"Ammit tears evil up from the root, casting her judgement before any evil's done. That's why we must resurrect her." Harrow informed Steven.
"Right. But… well, isn't that a bit dodgy?" Steven asked reasonably. "Y'know, trusting the judgement of a weird crocodile lady?" Sarah snorted aloud at his description before she could stop herself.
"You don't need to doubt her judgement." Harrow replied. "Ammit will light the path to good by eradicating the choice of evil… which brings us to the scarab."
All around them, several cultists got to their feet, seats scraping noisily backward on the ground. Sarah went on alert, and even Steven seemed to realize that that wasn't a good thing. "That scarab functions as a kind of compass, leading us to Ammit's tomb." Harrow continued, unbothered. "She's out there- waiting, longing to be freed…"
"Hi." Steven waved awkwardly to the cultists as they closed in. Sarah swallowed, curling her hand tighter around the handle of her spoon while the other hand's fingers clamped around the rim of the bowl. It wasn't much, but she could fling the steaming-hot contents at one person and stab another in the face with the spoon if need be, hopefully buying them a moment or two headstart.
"…while the cruel masses deserve to face her judgement." In the last minute or two alone, Harrow had transformed from the kind, sympathetic gentleman to the obsessively reverent cultist who had so callously set a mystical beast on two innocent people to get the scarab. "And in the wake of their screams- evil eradicated. Steven, Sarah- to exist at that moment? Heaven on Earth."
"More like the eye of the storm." Sarah muttered.
"So, the scarab." Harrow's demeanor shifted again, reverting slightly to how he had been previously. But Steven now seemed to understand a bit better that Harrow's beliefs were off and that he wouldn't hesitate to use force to get what he wanted.
"Oh, I don't have it." Steven rushed to say, probably thinking that telling him that would protect him and Sarah.
"No?" Harrow didn't seem too convinced by that answer.
"Honestly, I don't have it." Steven reiterated.
"Well, maybe you know someone who does, hmm? Maybe Marc?"
"Actually, we lost it right before your fake coppers banged down his door." Snarked Sarah. "Maybe we could've found it again if we hadn't been kidnapped."
Steven's gaze abruptly diverted to something on Sarah's right, and she turned her head to see a shiny metal bowl with bread inside. Ah- Marc talking again.
"No, I don't." Steven lied, and Sarah tried to not let her relief show. She didn't trust Layla, not really, but she'd sooner entrust her with the keeping of the scarab than hand it over to Arthur Harrow.
"May I speak with Marc?" Harrow requested.
"Steven doesn't know how to switch back and forth." Sarah told him half-truthfully.
Once again, she was ignored by Harrow. "Marc, what has Khonshu promised you? That this is your last mission, then you'll be free? Trust me when I tell you Khonshu is a liar. There's always one last thing."
Steven looked to the bread bowl again, and Sarah returned her own gaze to her bowl of lentil soup. She didn't like anyone who upset Steven, but Khonshu wanted Harrow dead and didn't want Ammit released into the world, so currently he was more likeable than Harrow. However, she did feel an inkling of pity toward the man- not just for how misguided and deluded he clearly was, but for how he had been exploited and misused by the moon god. There was no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth about that, and she'd sooner play nice with Helen Cutter than allow Steven to be abused in such a way.
"Sorry- if Ammit judges people pre-evil, like, before the fact, then… isn't she judging an innocent person?" Steven suddenly changed subjects again. "I mean, a thought can't be evil, can it? I- I think about killing my boss all the time, but I wouldn't actually do it."
Sarah remembered a conversation she'd had with Connor on that mad day so long ago. "I'm sorry. She was your friend?" He'd asked when she had mentioned Marion, the image of her bloody and lifeless body still freshly stamped in her memory.
"Oh, no. Not at all. But, you know, given a choice I wouldn't want her dead." Sarah had replied. She'd felt like strangling the curator more than once, but like she'd said- she never actually wished ill on the woman, and had felt grief for Marion's death. She regretted that their last words had been an argument, that she'd called her a witch, and she had attended her funeral.
"Steven-" Harrow tried to interrupt, but for once, Steven wasn't polite, and cut him off.
"What about a child? Would she kill a child for something they might do in thirty years?"
Sarah was suddenly sick, and any lingering hunger vanished.
"I'm glad you mentioned that." Harrow said. Please, please be about to say that there are exceptions and children are safe. "Sometimes, the cure is a little taste of the disease. The difference between medicine and poison sometimes is only dosage. Consider a diseased limb; amputation, horrific and grotesque, is necessary for the larger health."
"So it's a 'yes', then." Sarah broke in, unable to tear her gaze away from the spot on the table it had landed on. Her entire body was paralyzed with horror and rage alike, save her roiling stomach that threatened to empty its contents through her speaking mouth. "Yes, Ammit would kill a child if she believed them to be a future evildoer."
"And the child is not a diseased limb." Steven agreed, also horrified. "Sorry, is that-" he turned in his seat, casting glances among the other cultists to see their reactions. "-is that what- you're all into that, like, killing children and that?" Seeing their blank faces, he returned his gaze to Harrow. "Maybe that's just me, but that's- I kinda draw a line there, at child murder."
"And me." Sarah agreed venomously, finally raising her gaze to Harrow's disturbingly judgmental and disappointed but otherwise calm face.
He looked over at his cane, which leaned against the table. "Do you know what this is?" He asked Steven.
"Yep… it's a cane, yeah."
"This is-" he picked it up and stood, "-Ammit's gift to her first Avatar." Sarah could now see that the head of it was a pair of silver crocodilian heads facing outward from each other, and the purple jewels(?) in the eyes and below the heads that glowed with an unearthly power.
"Alright." Steven answered.
"It contains in it a tiny sliver of her power." He continued. That was unsettling, which Steven seemed to agree with, rising from his seat as the cultists slowly moved backward. Sarah as well stood, spoon still clenched tightly in one hand as she placed the other on Steven's shoulder. "I don't wanna use it. I don't."
"Then don't." Steven returned. "I can't help you."
"Yes, you can." Harrow insisted, setting the cane down again and moving toward them even as they backed away. "I need to know- where is the scarab?"
"If we ever considered giving you the scarab before, we're sure as hell not doing it now. We will not be part of this." Sarah snarled.
"Where is the scarab?" Harrow demanded again, still with a deadly calm but utterly threatening voice. "Where is the scarab?"
"No." Steven refused, and a strong breeze- not quite a wind yet- began to stir Harrow's face and hair.
"Where is the scarab?"
Just as Sarah began hoping that that breeze was the power of Khonshu trying to intervene to help them, a voice rang out: "I have it."
Layla.
The attention immediately went to her, finding the golden scarab held high in the air over her head. She had all the power, all the attention, and in her mind Sarah desperately begged her to use it wisely.
Layla lowered her arm, stepping deeper into the common area. "You couldn't possibly understand the value of what you're holding." Harrow presumed, extending a hand to receive it.
"Layla, I don't want to fight you, but if you give that to him I will." Sarah threatened. She meant it, too; there was no one in this commune she wouldn't kill- except the children, never the children- to get Steven out of there. If that meant she had to kill Layla and take the scarab, then so be it. But she was really, really hoping that it wouldn't come to that.
"Let me have that; I'll keep it safe." Harrow pressed.
Layla came to a stop next to Steven. "Summon the suit." She told him.
"S-Sorry, what?" Steven queried, completely confused.
Layla looked back to him urgently. "Summon the suit!"
"'Summon the soup'? What are you saying?"
"The suit! Summon it."
"Oh, I think she means that fancy outfit Marc kinda sprouted in the loos when the jackal was about to get us." Sarah blurted, finally understanding. Layla shot her an odd look, but nodded.
"And keep this safe." Layla added, shoving the scarab into his chest and unknowingly placing herself under Sarah's tenuous protection.
"So be it." Harrow declared gravely.
"Let's go, let's go." Urged Layla, hustling both of them away from Harrow. Cultists attacked, but Layla easily fended a handful of them off and Sarah made use of her spoon, stabbing it into another's throat. It didn't puncture or pierce like a knife would, but her victim immediately stopped short, choking and gagging as he reached for his throat.
Layla led them up a flight of stairs, and Steven hurriedly tucked the scarab into his coat pocket. Sarah glanced over the railing to the others down below, and witnessed something both incredible and terrifying: Harrow, planting the ground end of the cane onto the ground, that same strange purple glow erupting out from the point of contact like a rippling spiderweb, forming lines like cracks.
"Steven!" Layla's shout redirected Sarah's attention, and the Egyptologist stopped short to avoid smacking into Steven's back as he stopped, a cultist appearing between him and Layla. He turned to run in the opposite direction and Sarah grabbed his hand, spotting another nearby set of stairs and hauling him toward it. At the top, they found Layla combating another cultist, who she quickly threw through the wooden railing. Sarah watched him land on a structure within the common space, but her eyes were then drawn to the ever-growing purple light. Harrow knelt in the middle of it, holding the shaft of the cane as he chanted in Coptic, though she didn't understand what exactly he was saying.
Layla was on the move again, grabbing at both Steven and Sarah. "That was awesome." The former blurted, referring to Layla's fighting moves.
They found themselves in the massive loft of one of the buildings. "Here, bolt the door." Layla ordered as they shut the double wooden doors. Steven hurried to comply.
"Oh my God. I'm gonna die in an evil magician's man cave." Steven lamented.
"We are not dying tonight, here or otherwise." Sarah hissed.
Layla rushed back over to them as someone- or something- began trying to force through the doors. Taking hold of Steven's arms, she said, "Hey, listen to me. Listen to me. Your name is Marc. There's a suit. I've seen you use it. You need to bring it out." Steven immediately began refuting this, both he and Sarah knowing damn well that he didn't understand how to do what she was asking. "Where are you? We need you to fight!" Layla demanded of her husband, who was not in charge of the body at present.
"No, no, no, I can't! Stop, stop, stop please, both of you! Please stop!" Steven suddenly cried out, eyes fixed on a mirror lying on a table.
He tried to move away from Layla, but she wouldn't let him. "Listen to me. Your name is Marc. Bring it out!"
Feeling utterly useless and helpless, Sarah frustratedly strode across the loft, searching both for alternative escape routes and weapons to use. The only thing she could find was the rather obvious glass window, the city shining invitingly through it. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass, peering down. They were several stories up, and unless they had rope or some bloody good padding would not be able to make it down alive. Behind her, Steven was still begging to be left alone and Layla was still urging him to become Marc.
The doors flew open, and Sarah whirled around to see… nothing.
But Steven saw. "Jackal! Jackal! Jackal!" He shouted, pointing frantically.
"What jackal?" Layla whispered, mostly to herself as she tried to understand.
"Harrow summoned some freaky invisible jackal thing to kill us!" Sarah explained hurriedly. "He did the same thing last night in the museum, although we didn't see how he did it at the time, and Steven could see it but I couldn't, and neither could the security cameras."
"Well, how'd you stop it?!" Layla demanded.
"We didn't." Gulped Sarah. "Steven somehow became Marc and he killed it."
A mere moment later, Steven went flying through the window, plummeting along with the glass shards (and possibly the invisible jackal) down toward the alley below. Layla and Sarah both rushed toward the hole, intending to see if Steven had survived, but the latter was abruptly hit by a force in her chest and thrown backward- mercifully, not out the window. Layla shouted, and something large, heavy, and expensive soared through the air, shattering on impact a few meters away from Sarah. Then the American was at Sarah's side as the Egyptologist struggled to make her aching and winded body sit up. Layla pulled her to her feet and all but dragged her toward a fire escape, urging her to descend the caged ladder first.
The alley they found themselves in was empty of life, but also thankfully empty of corpses. A moment later, a brick wall shattered and someone careened through it. Sarah immediately recognized Steven's voice as he grunted and groaned, rolling across the cobblestone ground. Otherwise, she wouldn't have realized it was him yet, not how he was dressed. He was clad in a greyish-white suit, yes, but a formal suit, not a suit of armor. He also had a matching headpiece like a ski mask, and it was a comical difference from Marc's dramatic garb. But the color was right, and his eyes were glowing white.
He reached up and grabbed ahold of a chrome car fender, and Sarah watched mutely as the metal easily crushed under his weight- and then Steven casually detached it from the car, holding it like a video game character's absurdly large staff or double-bladed sword.
"You look d-different." Layla stammered, as taken aback by everything as Sarah was.
Steven didn't get a chance to respond, as he was promptly hit from behind, presumably by the jackal. It jerked him backward and semi-lifted him into the air, then propelled him toward the bonnet of another car. Had Sarah not known and been deeply worried for him, she would've found it hilarious since to a bystander it simply looked like a bloke in white faffing around.
Layla rushed to his side, but he threw out an arm to ward her off. "Stay away from me!"
"Stay away from wha-" Layla was cut off as the jackal apparently hit her, sending her toppling to the ground. Sarah rushed to her side, eyes not leaving Steven as he was pulled back before being bounced off the car again, hitting the ground beside it but quickly returning to his feet nonetheless. Suspended by the throat, his back was against the side of the car, and his feet left the ground as he tried to remove the jackal (its mouth? its paw?) from him.
Layla looked around on the ground, and suddenly grabbed a glass bottle from the dirt. She hurled it in Steven's direction and it broke against seemingly empty air, yet both women could now see droplets of liquid shining in the amber light- droplets clinging to a vague and incomplete but three-dimensional shape. Horrified, Layla was paralyzed for a moment, but lunged for Steven- only to be seized by the throat as well and tossed aside, much like Steven.
Wishing for a squad of ARC soldiers led by a shotgun-wielding Becker at her side, Sarah summoned her courage and ran forward, ducking to avoid the jackal's predictable move for her throat. She felt something pass through the air above her and stabbed again with her spoon (which she had somehow not dropped this entire time), its curved end meeting something solid but unseen. Her knees met the ground, and her free hand landed on a large shard of glass from the bottle.
Something hard smacked into Sarah again, and she found herself on her back on the ground. Steven was thrust up against the car once more, a window shattering and the vehicle actually skidding to the side from the force. Layla got to her feet angrily, taking up the neck and partial body of the bottle and charging the jackal again, attacking it. But a moment later the bottle was smashed into the wall of a nearby building, and a wet paw (Sarah thought it was a paw, anyway) smacked her away. The American tried crawling away, but was dragged back like something from a horror film. It flipped her onto her back and began pulling her upward by the leg even as she struggled and kicked at it.
Steven and Sarah both got to their feet, but the latter acted first, using the moisture clinging to the beast to suss out some of its body shape. She jumped and landed on its back, legs clamping around it to keep her on as she brought the shard of glass down, uncaring of how the jagged edges cut into her palm. She yanked it out and did it again, hearing a horrible snarl-screech in result.
Steven attacked with something metal, but a few seconds later it was turned against him and he hit the ground once more. Fortunately, Layla was released, but the jackal's next action was to shake itself, sending both Sarah and the telltale droplets flying off.
"I think I can." Steven's breathless voice had Sarah looking toward him. He was on his stomach, glowing eyes staring into his reflection on the car fender. He suddenly shot to his feet and called out to the jackal. "Get away from them, you. Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote." He pointed at it mockingly as he literally bounced around on his feet like a boxer preparing to swing. "You're in the wrong ends, mate; you're in my yard now!" He removed the jacket of his suit, stripping it off and casting it to the ground. Fortunately, the suit seemed complex, as there were still layers of it underneath. "Yeah, come on, come on. That's right, come on. Oh lookie here, lookie here." He goaded. The bonnet of a sapphire blue Mini Cooper abruptly crumpled in, apparently under the jackal's weight. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is 'Steven' with a V." Steven sang.
His next words were incomprehensible to Sarah as he finally swung out one arm in a punch, only to gasp a moment later. Throwing his arms wide happily, he cheered. "Wagwam! I did it! You got planted!" He laughed, mocking the jackal.
"I'm assuming that's a good sign." Sarah muttered to Layla.
"Layla, Sarah! Did you see that?!"
Neither had a chance to respond before Steven went flying again, backward through the air like a ragdoll. He landed in the street, rolling across lanes and halting a lane away from a stopped double-decker bus. He got back up, swinging his fists wildly as the jackal apparently prowled closer. He had gathered a small crowd of confused and entertained onlookers as it slammed him thrice up against the side of the bus.
"Look out!" Sarah screamed, seeing the oncoming car that he hadn't noticed yet. His head snapped toward the vehicle a mere second before it collided with him, coming to a stop and throwing him backward again. Sarah winced.
She and Layla watched with anxiety and bated breath as he struggled to his feet, slower and jerkier than before. He planted a gloved hand on a bus window as he used the vehicle for leverage to help him up, his free hand peeling off his mask. He looked briefly over his shoulder for a moment before turning back to the window, and Sarah realized he must be speaking to Marc again. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could see what happened next.
He threw his head back, body tensing as he turned around slowly. The bandage-like pieces materialized and swathed around him, covering and replacing the dress suit. The cloak was the last feature to form, the peaked bottom of its hood hanging between his glowing white eyes.
Steven had given control to Marc.
Layla took off running the moment she recognized the forming suit as Marc's, and a stunned Sarah was but a few steps behind her. They came to a stop near the curb, their attention momentarily diverted by a bystander being knocked to the ground by an unseen force. Mercifully, he wasn't immediately torn to pieces, so it seemed like he'd simply gotten in the jackal's way.
Marc didn't appear to spare either woman a glance, let alone a signal to get away or be reassured, as he took two shining golden crescent blades from his chest. Instead, his burning gaze was fixed on something to the women's right.
The jackal.
Layla glanced in its direction, but quickly returned her gaze to Marc. "Get it out of here!"
It seemed he had been waiting for her to speak. Maybe she and Khonshu both commanded him in some form or other. Maybe he knew that that meant she was okay and didn't need his assistance and he was free to deal with the creature. Maybe it was a third thing that Sarah couldn't think of in the moment.
No matter what, Marc immediately acted, turning around and running into traffic. He leapt onto a car and sprang off it, catching the side of a building on the other side of the road and scaling it. Once he was on the roof they lost sight of him, and Sarah found herself looking to Layla for direction. "What now?"
Layla met her eyes, silent for a moment. "Come with me. We'll find him."
She sprinted off, and Sarah followed her to an alley parallel and adjacent to the one Steven had landed in. Layla's motorbike was parked there, and she wasted no time in climbing onto it, one hand offering Sarah a second helmet as she donned her own. Finally abandoning the spoon, Sarah took it without question, quickly clicking the buckle into place under her chin and straddling the rear seat. She didn't dare put her hands on Layla's shoulders or arms for fear of restricting her movement, so she wrapped her arms around her middle and allowed herself to be front-to-back with the other woman.
Harrow's voice drew their gazes through the narrow passage between alleys. "I'm sorry, but that belongs to me." He said to a random bloke. "I can offer you food, clothing, but I am unable to offer you this. Thank you." He took something from the man's hand- likely the scarab, having probably been lost when the jackal threw Steven out the window. They couldn't hear what he said next, but they both saw the man's knees give out and the poor bloke drop to the ground.
"He didn't use the cane." Sarah muttered through clenched teeth. "He didn't judge to see if he was a bad person; he just outright murdered him."
Harrow's head suddenly turned in their direction, and Sarah's whole body tensed with anxiety and dread. But Layla responded differently, bringing her feet up and spurring the motorcycle's engine to life. They sped off into the night, and Sarah shut her eyes. She told herself it was to protect her eyes from bugs, pollution, and the harsh night air, but she couldn't hold back the silent tears that ran down her cheeks.
In the last forty-eight hours, her life had been massively upended. She should be used to it by now, after the discovery of anomalies and then the transition to living in this universe.
But in the last forty-eight hours, she discovered that her sweet, shy colleague and friend had lost control of his own body and woken up in the Alps only to be attacked by mercenaries and a misguided and sociopathic cultist who had tracked him to London and intimidated him at his own workplace, been attacked and nearly killed alongside him, learned that he was unknowingly sharing a body with the same man who had saved her life six months ago and that that man had gained superpowers through service to a (very real) Egyptian god, met the Avatar's wife, got kidnapped by fake police and brought to a cultist commune, learned that Ammit's worshippers and Ammit herself were okay with child murder, fought off but nearly got killed by another jackal, watched her best friend give himself over (maybe indefinitely) to his other half, and saw Harrow murder a man for no reason while acquiring a tool he needed to free the demon goddess and wipe out likely hundreds of millions of technically innocent people and eradicate free will.
She'd earned some tears, even if she was a tiny bit ashamed of them.
If it was at all racist or incorrect of me to call the Mandarin Harrow and the girl with the ball are speaking just 'Eastern Asian' and having Sarah be uncertain of which one it was, I'm sorry. Sarah's character was never mentioned to know any other languages but English and Latin (and her understanding of hieroglyphics, but those aren't spoken), and to the best of my knowledge Mandarin Chinese isn't one of those languages that is unmistakable even to those who don't speak it. However, since Cantonese and Mandarin are both spoken in China (I think), I figured Sarah guessing it to be one of the two would be good enough. Also, I'm aware that there was huge backlash at how poorly translated and pronounced the lines were, which is part of why I didn't make a big deal out of it and couldn't find the exact words to include.