All original characters, dialog and situations used from Star vs The Forces of Evil and Moon Knight are © The Walt Disney Company.

OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

All original characters, dialog and situations used from fanfics are © by their respective authors.


IV

Marco hid within the branches of a tree, trembling with anticipation, as below a large horse lowered its head to drink from a slow-moving stream. The tree was large and clearly ancient, as the branches were thick and strong despite hanging over the stream. Without intending to do so, Marco silently shuffled farther out on the branch he was standing on, reaching ahead to grasp a smaller branch to steady himself. His arm looked very different from what he was used to seeing; the skin tone was much paler, almost alabaster, and the arm's build very gracile. Without any conscious thought, Marco moved into a crouch on the edge of the branch, then dropped onto the horse's back.

It seemed unreal; Marco could see and hear and feel everything, but he nonetheless felt detached, with no control over anything he was doing. It was as if he was trapped within someone else's body. He felt confused, to say the least.

With a start, Marco realized the animal was not a horse but a unicorn; a large horn protruded from the middle of its forehead, tapering to a wicked point. The animal reared and the shared body grabbed the unicorn's mane, while gripping the beast's thickly muscled back as best it could with its thighs. The unicorn threw its head back, attempting to impale its unwanted rider, but the body had successfully dropped in the perfect spot to be out of reach of the deadly weapon.

Realizing its efforts were useless, the unicorn burst into a hard gallop. The body settled behind the animal's strong shoulders, using its arms and legs to point the beast in the direction the body wanted to go. The route started with a trail that ran from the stream back into the woods, eventually intersecting another trail, wide and well packed. The animal was then guided down the new trail, what Marco surmised was a road.

Soon, the unicorn burst from the forest, passing a sign marked "Forest of Certain Death" as they entered a small hamlet clustered about the road. The body looked behind, giving Marco his first good look at the woodland. It looked decidedly menacing; the trees were otherwordly, with spine-covered vines hanging from gnarled branches covered in reddish leaves, their bark oozing red sap like treacly blood. The sounds he could hear over the hooves of the ersatz mount, emanating from the forest, were chillingly otherworldly, the glowing, red, eyes of the shriekers and growlers blinking in the shadows. The body looked up, seeing a blueish sky with clouds stained orange, and multiple moons; it was decidedly otherworldly.

Finally, it all made sense; the confusion Marco had been feeling about his situation and surroundings became clarity. He concluded he was on another world ... or, in other words, dreaming. But it was like no dream he'd ever had before; it was too clear and too linear. It was as if he was watching a memory play out for him, but he was viewing it from inside the body of whoever's memory it was, experiencing and feeling what they had but without knowing their thoughts.

The dreambody brought its gaze down to ground level as it left the hamlet behind, showing Marco that the road stretched toward a large settlement. Dominating the village was a castle built into a lone mountain. Consisting of many levels, its towers, except for those on a surrounding battlement wall, were all topped with onion-domes. At the foot of the mountain stood many small buildings and open areas, likely stables, workshops, barracks, training and sports fields, and the like. Outside the battlement wall was a large town, and both mountain and town were surrounded by a small river, looking all the other-world like a moat.

Now in the open space betwixt the hamlet and village, the dreambody looked around, taking advantage of the unobstructed view to take in the rest of the sights. The terrain was generally hilly with large mountains in the distance, but scattered throughout were plains and valleys with farm fields, more small hamlets, and other signs of habitation. Most sported one or more pyramids of varying sizes.

The unicorn and its rider reached the river, then crossed a large, stone, bridge into the town. Their speed did not slacken as they raced down the stone-paved main thoroughfare, people screaming and scrambling out of the way lest they be trampled. Marco thought it was way too fast, but not only did their speed not decrease, it seemed as if the dreambody was encouraging even more speed out of its mount. The road was fairly straight and the buildings short, allowing Marco to see that that the road would take them right to the gates of the battlement wall.

The duo entered through the open gates. The road led over a bridge that doubled as an aqueduct, then across a wide bailey up to a huge, marble, staircase. Off to the side, in what looked to Marco like a medieval parking lot, were many fancy carriages parked on the grass of the bailey. The unicorn thundered up to the foot of the stairs, then, to Marco's surprise, climbed them at as fast a pace as it could manage given the precarious footing.

Again to Marco's surprise, rather than stopping at the ornate doors at the top of the stairs, the unicorn reared up, slamming its hooves into the doors which burst open with a thunderous crack. Entering, the crowd inside scattered to either side as the unicorn and its rider galloped down a wide, red, carpet, inlaid with yellow diamonds, toward a raised platform at the end. The chamber was adorned with flags, colorful drapes, and bunting, all festooned with various butterfly motifs.

On the dais were two people: a tall woman, made taller by long, silvery, hair piled atop her head, flanked by a dwarf in a matching blue suit of militaristic cut, sporting a thick, blonde, beard hanging just past his chest. Both wore bejeweled crowns, and grasped staffs with headpieces of large, blue, crescent-moon-shaped crystals circumscribing smaller, yellow, star-shaped gems. Marco's attention was soon drawn to the woman's face, adorned with pink, diamond-shaped, tattoos on each cheek.

The unicorn thundered up the platform's stairs, and as it neared the top, the dreambody launched itself into the air from the animal's back. Simultaneously, the animal leapt over the platform and the ducking woman, crashing through the giant stained-glass window at the back, to what Marco presumed was its death as it fell from the mountain.

Landing on the dais in front of the woman, the dreambody looked up to see the woman glaring at it in venomous anger. A quick glance at the man revealed a face glowing with amusement and pride.

The woman began speaking, in a tone of regality and formality, but Marco could not make out the words. Practically vibrating with giddy anticipation, the dreambody almost couldn't contain itself, opening and closing its fists as if they ached to grasp something. Finally, the woman set a crown on its head, then handed it a staff of its own, the staff's headpiece a large, yellow, star-shaped crystal, with a small, blue, crescent-moon-shaped gem inset slightly off center; Marco felt a surge of happiness race through the dreambody, as if it was receiving a coveted prize. It turned back toward the chamber; as the crowd bowed, it walked down the stairs, the feeling of joy replaced by feeling like a putz, then strode across the carpet toward the doors.

Marco felt the dreambody start experiencing a clear sense of disappointment. As it walked, it desperately looked through the crowd on each side, as if seeking a beloved face. Before reaching the exit, motion caught its eye on one of the balconies, the rest of which were empty.

The dreambody stopped, turning toward the half of the crowd on one side of the carpet, gazing intently at the balcony. Feeling a rush of recognition and joy from the dreambody, Marco saw a girl sporting a thin smile as she looked down on the chamber. Marco wondered why there seemed to be cool acceptance on the girl's face and a stiff demeanor, when the dreambody clearly expected the girl to be experiencing the same joy.

The dreambody resumed its march, then stopped before the damaged main doors, turning back to face the throng. It waved the staff above its head from left to right, creating a rainbow ... which promptly caught on fire. The crowd clapped in delight, not realizing the fire was unintended, or so Marco presumed from the intense embarrassment he detected. The dreambody turned to its left; as attendants beat out the flames, it strode to a regular-sized door set into the side wall of the chamber, under a grand arch, stepping through it into a large room. Behind the dreambody filed a subset of the people that had filled the main hall. Marco's best guess was that the smaller gathering was a reception, for people to personally congratulate the dreambody on its accomplishment or award, whichever it was. He was no more able to understand what the guests were saying than he had been able to understand what the crowned woman on the platform said. The only thing he was certain of was the feelings from the dreambody of boredom, disgust and, strangely, inescapable confinement, as if whatever was happening was some sort of trap.

At the end of the room opposite the door was a table laden with refreshments, and as the crowd gravitated in that direction, the dreambody snuck back out the door. There it found the girl from the balcony, who turned out not to be a girl at all but a tall young woman, somewhere around twenty. Strangely, she was wearing a dress that, while fancy by Echo Creek standards, was downright plain compared to those worn by everybody else Marco had seen in the castle. The styling of her light-purple, or perhaps lavender, hair was also comparatively simple, short around the sides and back, and longer on top in tight, ringlet, curls. Strangest of all, this woman, too, seemed to have tattoos; but, unlike on the faces of the crowned woman, several people in the throng of wellwishers, and the woman Marco had been seeing in his visions, they were not bold and obvious. These tattoos were pale and dim, the green clovers invisible when more than a few feet away.

The woman continued to exhibit the same stiff demeanor and strained smile Marco had noticed earlier. She bowed, then said, in almost a monotone, "Joyous Crown Princess's Day ... or would you prefer 'happy birthday?'"

The dreambody replied, its voice that of a girl, "Why weren't you up there with mom and dad, or at least in front of all those nitwits who came to see the dancing monkey? I thought you'd be happy for me."

"Don't pout, it's unseemly, and don't call yourself a monkey, you're just insulting monkeys." For the first time, Marco observed a warm smile, although it disappeared quickly. "I just ... didn't want gossip to detract from your day. Most of those people remember what happened on my fourteenth birthday; or, more correctly, what didn't happen."

"I don't care about any of that; it doesn't matter which of us is Crown Princess, we're still sisters! The only reason I'm happy at all, is this," the girl tapped her staff on the stone floor, "means I'm now allowed to perform magic in public. Everything else sucks; you know darn well I don't want to be queen."

The woman placed her hand on the dreamgirl's shoulder and said, "I know." Marco was surprised at just how coldly those two words were delivered, but also by the feeling that, as far as he could tell, the dreamgirl was oblivious to it.

Suddenly, from behind, a hand grasped the dreamgirl's other shoulder and spun her around. As he steadied himself, Marco realized the dreamgirl's body was gone and he was inhabiting his own, dressed casually, right down to a red hoodie. When Marco looked up after gaining his footing, he was surprised to see a woman his age facing him, as the grip on his shoulder was firm and very strong, perhaps the strongest he'd ever felt. He was surprised again when he realized it was the woman from his visions.

Marco was a good five-foot-ten; the woman's blue eyes, shimmering with azure fire, were only a few inches below his, making her around five-foot-six. She wore a simple blue dress, and her voluminous, calf-length, blonde hair was held out of her eyes by a simple, red, crown that doubled as a hairband; weirdly, the crown sported two devil horns. She rose up on the balls of her feet, bringing her eyes closer to Marco's level and her face close to his; he thought he caught a whiff of strawberries. In a tone he could describe only as menacing, she said, 'You're signing her death warrant.'

"Wha..?" Marco asked, groggily, his eyes blinking rapidly as the woman and her world disappeared, to be replaced by the Diaz living room.

'She's going to die, and it will be all ... YOUR ... fault.'

Marco was on the couch with Jackie, her arm still around him and her head on his shoulder, where the pair had fallen asleep. "Did you say something?" he asked her.

"Mmmmm?" Jackie murmured, apparently still asleep.

Marco carefully extricated himself from Jackie's embrace, then gently laid her down, placing her head on a couch cushion as he swung her legs onto the couch.

'I know you don't want another person to die, so what the hell are you doing?'

"She can help," Marco replied.

'Help what? Increase the body count?'

"Not if she's careful."

The voice clearly took on the tone of a scoff. 'Wow. She is not trained for this.'

"What are you talking about? She's a doctor of history, she's better trained than I am."

'Are you so delusional that you think looking at dusty old books is all that will be necessary?'

"What do you mean?"

'They've tried to kill us, twice. There's no scenario where we don't have to fight, and you're pulling her into it. She is not a warrior.'

"You don't have to be a warrior if you never get into a fight; I'll keep her away from it."

'Pegasus feathers! She's right; you are stupid!'

"Who are you calling stupid?"

Jackie lay on the couch, now awake and wide-eyed, watching Marco walk back and forth, gesticulating, while speaking to no-one. She couldn't chalk it up to talking to himself; he was speaking as though he was having a heated discussion with another person in the room. She briefly wondered if she was making a huge mistake and perhaps she was in more danger than she thought, not just from Marco's attackers, but from Marco himself. Mentally flogging herself for the latter thought, she sat up.

"You call me stupid and then you say that?" Marco yelled, apparently in response to a remark only he could hear.

"Marco," Jackie interrupted, "who are you talking to?"

Marco stopped, turning to Jackie, a look of confusion on his face. "What?" He blinked hard, then looked around, as if searching for something ... or someone. When he looked back, he appeared to Jackie like a person waking from a trance. "Talking to? Nobody."

"That wasn't the normal 'talking to oneself,' that was an actual argument."

"You've never had an argument with yourself?"

"Sure ... but not one like that, and certainly not out loud."

"Wait, that was out loud?"

"Why else would I be asking? Maybe you are stupid."

The look of hurt that crossed Marco's face tugged at Jackie's heartstrings. "I'm joking," she soothed. She smiled, saying, as she patted the couch next to her, "Let's talk." Then, in a voice one uses with a scared toddler, said, "Come on, Marco, talk to Jackie."

The look on Marco's face quickly changed from hurt to offense. Jackie chuckled. "Okay, I won't do that again. Come here and sit your stupid ass down."

"Much better. I think." Marco sat.

"Dude, really, what's going on?"

"Was I really talking ... arguing ... out loud?"

Jackie was trying to be kind, but she had her limits. She rolled her eyes, then replied, "No, I made that shit up to get you onto the couch with me. Dish!"

In his youth, Marco sometimes would be obstinate and blindered, such as when he pursued Jackie despite not really knowing her well as a person. As an adult, that obstinacy could be a benefit during an investigation, or in a tense situation when exercising command, but could also be to his detriment. Despite evidence to the contrary, he still did not truly believe he was hearing a voice not his own, made worse by the fact he was having memory black- and brown-outs ... including not remembering the details of the argument he had been told he was just having. He also had only a vague notion that he had again been dreaming of pyramids and onion-domes under an otherworldly sky, but could recall no further details. So he responded, not with a lie, but not wholly with the truth either, "There's nothing to dish."

Jackie scowled. She was torn. She was well aware of Marco's proclivities, so while she did not believe he was lying to her, she thought it possible he was nonetheless not being truthful with her ... because he was not being truthful with himself. While she thought importuning about his physical health was appropriate, as any friend would wish to help with an infirmity, she didn't think they had rekindled their friendship enough yet to delve into his psychological health. She chuckled inwardly, thinking, Despite already seeing each other naked. Twice. "Okay," she told Marco, looking him straight in the eyes, "but if that changes and you wanna talk, I'm here for you."

That really warmed the cockles of Marco's heart. "Thanks." Marco grinned. "Who knew historians could be psychologists?"

Jackie laughed. "It's not so strange as it may seem; historians do often try to figure out what was going on in the minds of historical figures. I seem to recall you had an interest in psychology, and I bet that came in handy as a leader and as an investigator."

"Well, I'm not an historical figure so your psychology skills might not be useful with me, but maybe you can use your historiography skills and actually be useful." Jackie made a sour face. "I found something in mom and dad's lab that I bet you'll be able to help a lot with."

Jackie's sour look quickly changed to one of open curiosity.

Marco stood, taking Jackie's hand, then led her to the stairs. He released her hand and began climbing. Behind him, as she followed, Jackie said, "My, this is kind of forward of you, isn't it, Mister Diaz?"

With a lilt to his voice, Marco replied, "Quiet, bitch."

At the top of the stairs Jackie grabbed Marco's shoulder and spun him toward her; Marco had a sudden and intense feeling of déjà vu. Looking into his eyes, Jackie said, in a serious tone, "Look, Marco, I know you were being funny, but ..."

Marco's face turned slightly red as he interrupted, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that to a lady."

"... you didn't let me finish ... but that kind of language makes me hot, so be judicious with its use unless you're wanting me ride you like a righteous wave. And really, I don't think we need to apologize to each other about that kind of stuff, we're old friends, and adults ... allegedly."

Marco broke into a wide grin, with Jackie donning a matching one. Marco again took her hand, saying, "C'mon. We are off to a bedroom, just not the one you were apparently hoping for..."

OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

"Well, fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Fuck!"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Marco responded.

Jackie sat in front of the computer in Marco's investigation "bullpen," as he now called it. Marco sat next to her on the floor, looking up at the monitor that had been angled so he could see it.

Leaving Jackie in the bullpen, Marco had retrieved the box of drives from its hiding place elsewhere in the house. Returning, he realized he could not read the SSDs without an external SSD interface, such as a USB hot-swap reader. So, he turned his attention to the thumb drives.

One after another, the pair plugged the drives into a USB hub, only to find they were encrypted. Marco took the keyboard to try some password possibilities that he was not yet ready to share with Jackie, then, after none of them worked, passed the keyboard back to her. They spent the next hour guessing passwords with no success.

Marco stood and cracked his back. He removed the thumb drives from the hub, replacing them in the box. To Jackie, he said, "Okay, we're getting nowhere fast. Let me give some deeper thought into possible passwords, and how we might crack the encryption if we can't guess any that work."

Jackie nodded, then turned toward Marco, swiveling in the chair. "We did learn one thing, though, didn't we?"

Marco thought for a few moments, then nodded. Grinning, he said, "You're correct. Let's see if you actually got it."

Jackie grinned back. "You're right to be suspicious about all this being related to your parents' work ... certainly they were suspicious about something that was going on, otherwise why encrypt the drives?"

Marco nodded. "Very good ... I bet whenever you leave here to travel to another place, you raise the average IQ in both places."

"The Red Green Show. Nice. Not relevant, but nice."

"But ... what about the NDA? Or, what about keeping their research private until they could publish? Or both?"

Jackie shook her head. "If it was only the encryption, sure, that'd be reasonable, but they hid the drives too, and in a way that only you were likely to find them."

"Very good, Doctor Thomas."

Jackie actually blushed. So cute, Marco thought, seemingly in unison with another voice in his head.

Marco continued, "So, anyway ... there was already a bunch of stuff on that computer, and I copied to it all the other stuff I could find that wasn't already there. Most of it's published, but there are additional field notes, drafts, and other stuff that didn't make it into publications. It seems to me, though, that there's stuff missing ... there's big gaps in the dates, and there's nothing about several expeditions I know they went on. That stuff might have been on the computer that was taken from mom and dad's lab, but I'm really hoping it's on these drives." Marco patted the box. "Maybe not all of it, but at least the stuff they wanted preserved, just in case ... something happened." Marco paused, then added, "I said way too many 'stuff's."

"Yeah, I agree," Jackie responded, soberly. "About hoping the data's on the drives, not just the 'stuff's."

"For now, start going through what's there. Even with st... information missing, there's a lot. Maybe organize it as you go through it. I have backups, so don't worry about accidentally messing anything up. In the meantime, I'm going to go secure this, then get another chair from the kitchen."

"Sounds like a plan." Even before all the words had left her mouth, Jackie was already working the mouse and keyboard.

OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

In the kitchen, Marco sat at the table. When he had hidden the drives-box, he had retrieved a mobile phone from the same secured spot. It was a "black phone," technology the U.S. Government denied having, so secure that the odds of it ever being cracked, even by the most sophisticated of government-sponsored hackers, were slim. The phones couldn't be tracked, either. Because of those two facts the phones sometimes disappeared ... usually when the person carrying it also disappeared ... as part of the secrecy was no paper trail. Marco's situation was similar, it falling through the cracks due to his time away from duty, although he suspected his commanding officer didn't actually forget he had the phone, but let him keep it to aid in his investigation. Marco entered the passwords and biometrics to unlock the phone, then placed a call to a buddy in his old Intelligence unit.

When the person answered, Marco said, "Hello, Mac? It's Marco. ... No ... no ... yes ... well, I'm sure you can spare a few moments. ... Yes, you can. I found those rare Magic: The Gathering cards in mom's collection you wanted. Do I ever fail you? ... That doesn't count. Listen, I got a little favor to ask of you ... WILL YOU STOP CRYING, I haven't even asked you yet! What the hell's the matter with you? I need you to find me everything you can on an Arthur Harrow; if you find more than one, I'm looking into the guy that was funding my parents' work. Send it to the usual place. Thanks, Mac. ... Yes, that's right, no more favors ... until I need another one. Bye."

Marco hung up, stood, picked up the chair, then headed back to the bullpen. Once there, he carried the chair over to the computer desk, set it beside Jackie, then sat. He thought he likely needed to get another computer so both could work simultaneously; he decided to buy a laptop along with the SSD reader. For now, he'd just look over Jackie's shoulder, leaving her alone to look over all the research and notes, planning to speak only if Jackie asked him a question, or if he saw something he thought might be really important.

"Þis is wundorlic cwæð," Jackie said after a short time, indicating a document on the screen.

"Ic eom wundorlice gecwacced, hwat is se secggende?" Marco asked.

"Hit spricð of sawlum sambindan on ecnesse under leoma þære Blōd Mōna."

"Is þær ænig mā?"

"Ne, seo secgung is ungesæd."

"Ic hæbbe geræd serupa secgung."

"There's a lot of moon imagery in your parents' research. Blōd Mōna in this sentence appears to be a name or title, rather than a general reference to a blood moon. By the way, Marco, very nicely done. I'm surprised you know Old English when you don't even speak Spanish."

"Hm? It's not Old English, it's Low Mewmian."

Jackie snapped her head to the side to look at Marco. "Why would you call it Low Mewmian?"

"I didn't. You said it's Old English ... and I said I don't speak Old English."

"You did call it Low Mewmian. I noticed that term when looking at an image of a stone found a couple hundred years ago in Scotland. It's inscribed on the stone using Celtic runes ... in fact, this saying," Jackie turned back to the screen, "about the Blood Moon was also written in Celtic runes."

Jackie tapped her chin as she paused, in thought. She continued, "Despite having the picture, 'Low Mewmian' isn't mentioned in any of your mother's writings I've looked at so far. And you were speaking Old English, by the way."

"No, I wasn't. I was speaking good ole 'murican."

"Gif þu leasing secgst, ic wille þine coddas of þinum nosþyrlum ateon!"

"Hunh? I have no idea what you just said."

Jackie furrowed her brow, a look of concern on her face as she looked sidelong at Marco. "Anyway," she continued, "the stuff I've seen so far looks promising." She paused in thought, then, realizing what Marco had said, exclaimed, "What do you mean you've read a similar saying?"


As always, stay amazing!