All original characters, dialog and situations used from Star vs The Forces of Evil and Moon Knight are © The Walt Disney Company.
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All original characters, dialog and situations used from fanfics are © by their respective authors.
II
After completing a few chores and having lunch, Marco showered and dressed for the trip to his parents' university lab. As he prepared to leave, a picture on the wall caught his eye. He walked over, then gently lifted the frame off its hook, smiling fondly.
Among the photos of interns and exchange students through the years, was a photo of Brittney Wong's Quinceañera. Why it had been that, rather than her normal birthday bash, Marco didn't know, as she wasn't hispanic. His first thought was that it was to somehow draw even more attention to herself through faking acculturation. However, his family and friends, of diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds, adopted so much of the local hispanic culture that he was willing to give her some benefit of the doubt. The bigger mystery was why he and his friends were invited, for the first time ever; probably to lord her status over them, he supposed.
The photo was taken alongside the bus her party was thrown on. Brittney was affecting her usual childish frown, which was copied by her surrounding cadre of sycophants. Next to Brittney's clique stood Alycia Nefcy, uTewb reactor, wearing one of her ubiquitous cosplay outfits; Marco couldn't remember the name of the character she was dressed as that night, or what name she was going by at the time ... somethingFan13, he thought. Then came Alonzo and his hetero-lifemate Ferguson hanging all over each other, proof that you could behave gay without actually being gay. Then came the trio rounding out the group: Marco sandwiched in an embrace from Jackie on one side and Janna on the other. Seeing Jackie widened his smile, but when his eyes alighted on Janna he felt a deep sense of recognition and, unexpectedly, anger. He noticed, reflected in the glass of the frame, the upper half of the blonde woman's face, scowling in what Marco could describe only as rage. Reflexively he looked behind him, again seeing nothing, and when he looked back the ghost image was gone ... but the anger weirdly remained.
Marco carefully placed the frame back on its hook, then headed for the door. He reached for its knob, but stopped with his hand inches away. He stood there, transfixed, for a couple long moments; then, reversing an earlier decision, reached for his phone. Hoping the number he had was still valid, he texted, Lunch at Britta's?
To Marco's surprise, the response was almost immediate, Dude! Of course! One o'clock, tomorrow?
Looking forward to it, Marco replied. Smiling, he put away his phone as he left the house.
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Marco stood at the bottom of a grand, marble, staircase. It led up to the main entrance of the main archaeology building on the campus of School University, his parents' "home" university. He was not looking forward to this visit, for many reasons. After a few moments of contemplation, he climbed the stairs and entered the building.
The interior was a strange jumble of reproduction ancient architectures mixed with "modern" glass and steel, a style popular in the seventies. The private staircase to the second-floor offices, where staff worked when not in the lab or field, was at the back of the building. As Marco walked across the first floor in that direction, he stopped from time to time to admire the architecture and look at photos. Many of the photos, hung on walls and displayed next to artifacts in glass cases, included his parents. The sense of melancholy and familiarity he felt when looking at the photos was expected. What wasn't expected was also feeling that way when looking at artifacts and the copies of ancient architecture, replacing his usual sense of wonder.
When his reflection was visible in glass or polished steel, Marco kept getting glimpses of somebody close behind him. When he looked, there was nobody there. He soon realized that the glimpses were again of the young woman he had been seeing since the prior day. He shivered despite himself; it was becoming unsettling. The worst occurrence was when looking at photos of a site in South America, thought to be a shrine to the local moon god; the face seemed to be looking directly over his shoulder, startling him, causing him to jump, to the consternation of several students admiring the artifacts in the adjacent display case.
Marco eventually found himself in front of an ornate door on the second floor; the placard beside it announced the room as the office of the head of the Department of Archaeology and Anthropology. Doctor Donna Kraft was a good archaeologist with a great, some said brilliant, aptitude for running the business side of a university department, including seeking and managing the funding for archaeological digs. A longtime friend of his parents, she had an unmistakable english accent, biting british wit ... and, for some reason, an undisguised dislike of Marco. Steeling himself, he knocked, receiving a curt, "Enter." Standing as Marco opened the door was a bookish-, professorial-, looking woman on the young side of middle age. The smile that appeared on her face when she realized it was Marco was clearly forced.
"Marco Spector, as I live and breathe," Donna said, so slight an edge to her voice that Marco thought only he'd detect it. "When I heard you'd retired from the Navy I figured you'd darken my doorstep eventually. I didn't think it'd be this soon, and without calling ahead, but nonetheless, welcome. I'll have a lackey ... excuse me, a graduate assistant ... escort you to your parents' lab."
Marco thought Donna sounded insincere as hell, a thought given further credence by the fact she thought he needed an escort. He also wondered how she knew about his retirement, given how recent it and his arrival back in Echo Creek were.
"Thank you," Marco replied, using all his years of military discipline to keep his irritation out of his voice. "But before I visit mom and dad's lab, may I have a bit of your time to discuss what they were researching when they were murdered?"
Donna scowled, and hesitated, clearly trying to find an excuse to avoid the engagement. Marco had known she would, which was why he had arrived unannounced, so she wouldn't have the forewarning to make herself unavailable. Finally relenting, she bade Marco to sit as she sat back down behind her desk.
After sitting, Marco noticed a framed photo on Donna's desk of herself posing with his parents at a dig site. Most people would see it as a reminder of dear friends; Marco saw it as a demonstration of her egocentric self-importance, as it faced the guest, not Donna. He could see his scowl reflected by the glass.
"You're aware of your mother's writings on the primum runes, yes?" Donna asked.
Marco nodded.
"Your parents had made that a part of their research for many years, but only a part. Calling it a hobby would not be quite correct, but it was certainly not the focus of their research. Then, around five or so years ago, a benefactor with an interest in the runes contacted the university. He offered to partially fund more research into them, and the sites where they've been found."
"I think one of my dad's emails might have mentioned that."
"Did he or Angelica mention stabbing us in the back by taking funding for independent research?"
Marco grit his teeth and shook his head no. "I was under the impression they had started funding their digs themselves."
"A couple years ago, after they found the Kaskuh Tablet, the benefactor began entirely funding your parents' digs, and directly, not through us. Specifically, studies and excavations of moon-god temples across the world." Donna paused a few moments, her brow creasing slightly. "Okay, maybe 'stabbing us in the back' is too harsh; they did insist that we get first crack at any artifacts, and to publish any research papers."
"I did know they were in the field much more than they used to be, but I didn't know why."
Donna gave Marco a look of disdain. "Unfortunately, with us cut out of direct involvement, I don't know what they were looking for; everything prior to study and publication was covered by a non-disclosure agreement. But I'm certain they were looking for something specific; I believe the site where they were murdered was the culmination of their research. I don't know if it was the site itself they were looking for, or something at the site."
Marco glanced at the photo, noticing the mystery woman's scowling face had replaced his as the reflection in the glass. He fought the urge to look behind him.
"Who was the benefactor?"
"A man named Arthur Harrow."
"Who? Never heard of him. Certainly, mom and dad never mentioned him."
"I don't recall your parents speaking of meeting him. I know I never met him, I dealt only with his representatives. Rich, obviously ... or had backers with money."
"You never looked into him?" Marco asked, an edge to his voice.
Donna raised her voice, slightly. "Why would I do that? If we aren't being asked to do anything unethical or illegal, what does it matter who the money comes from?"
Marco noted Donna's raised voice, so raised his own. "Maybe if you paid any attention to what goes on in the real world, you wouldn't ask that. Hell, you don't even have to do that, there's plenty of horrible stuff in the past rooted in greed and avarice."
Donna's face flushed with anger. "Listen, your parents understood and I certainly don't owe the likes of you an explanation. So, if you don't stop natterin' your rubbish at me, I swear I'll shove you in a sarcophagus!"
In an even tone, Marco said, "Understanding and effectively being a whore are not the same thing."
Donna took a deep breath, clearly intending to shout a response, but Marco interrupted her. "You've never liked me." Marco thought he heard a woman's voice say, 'Gee, I wonder why.' "What, exactly, is your problem with me?"
"You're bloody useless."
"Why, because I'm not grubbing for money from a dusty old lab?" Marco allowed himself an inward cringe as he realized that could describe his parents as well.
"No, you're useless for not doing what your parents were raising you to do, instead joining the military. And then, when you could have made good use of your military training..." Donna shook her head. "You're so bloody useless you let your parents be killed!"
Marco was so shocked that his frayed temper didn't even flash into anger, stammering a, "Wha ... what?"
Donna stared at Marco for several seconds as the red tint of vexation drained from her face, to be replaced by a pallor of embarrassment. "I ... I ... um ... I apologize sincerely and unreservedly. I'm sure you miss Angelica and Rafael far more than I do, and there's probably no way you could have prevented it, even if you hadn't almost lost your own life." She reached into a drawer and produced a set of keys. She set them on the desk in front of Marco, saying, "You know where their lab is; it's just as they left it. Take as many days as you need." She turned to her computer, clearly a dismissal.
Marco picked up the keys and left the office.
Walking back through the building toward the exit, Marco thought about what had just happened. Even though he knew he should be concentrating on the case, his mind could not help but focus on what Donna had implied about him being a disappointment. He even allowed himself to wonder if he was useless by not stopping his parents' murders, but decided to accept Donna's contrition as proof it wasn't a serious accusation. Still, he was sufficiently disturbed and distracted, and the time late enough in the day, that he decided to put off visiting the lab until the next day.
As he exited the building, Marco was so lost in thought that he uncharacteristically failed to notice the young man standing just inside the entrance, openly watching Marco intently ... staring daggers, some might say ... while talking quietly on his phone.
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Marco spent the next morning looking for, and finding, an artifact in his father's personal collection, then puttered around the house doing chores. He deliberately avoided thinking about the prior day's conversations and the case; his experience conducting investigations working for Naval Intelligence told him a brief break, then returning to the subject with a refreshed mind, was often beneficial.
A few minutes after one o'clock, Marco was sitting down at a table outside Britta's Tacos with Jackie. They had briefly hugged, and exchanged the usual greetings of old friends seeing each other for the first time in years, before ordering. It did not escape Marco's notice that he felt particularly enthusiastic about the meeting, and noted that Jackie appeared to share his excitement.
Jackie looked much as Marco remembered. She was tall, tanned, toned, lithe and busty. She still sported her ubiquitous aqua-green streak in her platinum blonde hair, but had ditched most of her piercings; she was down to a seashell stud in each lobule, and the two small rings high up on the helix of her right ear. The freckles of her youth had mostly faded, down to just a few. She was quite the beautiful young woman, in Marco's eyes.
Marco had thought long and hard the prior evening and this morning about how, and even whether, he should broach a specific, presumably sensitive, subject. Not usually one to hesitate, he nonetheless paused, still uncertain whether he should bring it up at all, let alone as the very first topic of conversation. Jackie noticed the long pause and intent stare, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Marco decided to be somewhat circumspect.
"So," Marco broached, indicating Jackie's lunch of three pain-pepper tacos, "I see the rumor I heard is true, that you're exclusively into munching tacos these days."
Jackie gave a small snort at Marco's complete failure to be discrete, a corner of her mouth twitching upwards. "No," she answered, "not exclusively, it's just that, in the circles I run in, that's usually the only thing available on the menu."
Jackie cocked her head, then indicated Marco's lunch platter of two tacos and a burrito. "What about you? Tacos and burritos?"
"No. Plenty of opportunities in the circles I've run in, but I just never got interested." Marco took a bite of his burrito. "Only for lunch at Britta's."
"Is there a menu item you're exclusively ordering?"
"No. Not really time for it in the Navy, moving from restaurant to restaurant. You?"
"No, not for a while."
His curiosity satisfied, Marco moved on. "So, what have you been doing for the past ... decade," he asked.
"Not a lot, actually. I competed in professional skateboarding for a couple years, but decided it wasn't for me. I traveled a bit for competitions and for fun, and a bit more for school. I even ended up cuffed while in France, thought Chloe was The One for a while, but neither of us wanted to move from our homes so it didn't work out in the long run."
Jackie paused, sighing wistfully, then continued, "I've done some research while working on my degrees, and contributed to a few papers, but it's all been pretty mundane. I've always loved reading about history, and research can be interesting, especially when finding facts not previously known ... well, other than to the people who lived them ... but it can be pretty tedious, too. Not like being in the Navy, I'm sure."
Marco chuckled. "Actually, the military isn't like in the movies. Sure, when people are shooting at you it's pretty dang exciting, but there's a shocking amount of maintenance and paperwork needed to keep a navy afloat. Naval Intelligence was a lot more interesting. I'm surprised you didn't know."
Jackie shrugged. "I did a little research into how the Peninsular War was conducted from a logistics point of view, so yeah, I guess I can see it. But my main interest is in ancient history, especially the unexplained oddities. I'm especially fond of those that make it look like aliens built the pyramids and other wonders, not just in Egypt, but all over the world."
"You should have worked with my parents. I don't think they ever went so far as to think there was an alien presence on Earth, but they certainly noted a lot of those oddities."
"Did you know your parents invited me on the dig that ... um ... ended badly?"
"You don't have to dance around it, Jackie, you can be direct. No, I didn't know."
"Yeah, and I regretted having to turn them down. Even though my passion is historiography, archaeology has been a fun hobby. But I was a little leery of the NDA I'd've had to sign, and I was close to wrapping up my dissertation so needed to focus on that research, plus I was taking care of my father, so it was a reluctant 'no.'"
"Mom and dad would certainly have been thrilled to have you along, both professionally and personally. So would've I ... but it's just as well you weren't there, or you would've been murdered, too."
Jackie took a bite of taco, then, once she stopped pounding the table, said, while wiping tears from her eyes, "Back at you, what has your story been the last ten years?"
"There's not much to tell. Moved up the ranks, commanded a ship or two, then switched to Intelligence when I was eligible." Marco thought for a few seconds. "I do have one funny story ... would you believe I tried to join the Stanford football team the spring after I turned nineteen?"
"No!"
"Yes."
Jackie looked him up and down. Marco chuckled. "I'm pretty buff now but not enough to play football, and I was hardly buff back then. I had met Coach Harbaugh and found him really captivating, so I decided to give it a shot. I had been working out so had a little strength and tone, and I reasoned that my brains would make up for what I lacked ... including my lack of any experience whatsoever playing football."
Jackie laughed out loud. She blushed, contritely saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. Coach Harbaugh asked, 'Tell me the truth ... do you really think you can play football for me?' Of course I said 'yes.' He then said, 'Marco, is that really the truth? You've really got to tell the truth when you get on the football field. Do you have talent? Have you put in the effort? Are you stronger, are you faster, or are you not? It happens out on the football field, almost like a truth serum.' And you know what? I realized I wasn't telling the truth to him or myself. That set me to looking for what my truth was, which led me down the path to joining the Navy."
Marco paused, looking up at the table umbrella contemplatively. "That was the year Stanford had its greatest season under Harbaugh and was the start of our multiple great seasons. It would've been nice to have been a part of that, but I've never regretted my decision; all my years in the Navy were great years, warts and all."
"Someday you'll have to tell me exactly what you found along that path to joining the Navy. For today, any juicy secrets you can tell me from your time in Naval Intelligence?"
Marco gave her a hooded look. "No ... although ... since it's been declassified after the leak, I suppose I can mention I worked with NCIS on the Wuhan lab incident."
"Oh really? Was that as bad as it sounded?"
"Hard to say. But the world is probably better off thanks to us finding out what was happening there, and the resulting pressure putting a stop to the research. Who knows what would've happened if that stuff escaped. At the very least we probably averted a worldwide pandemic."
"Wow, you saved the world, just like Janna said you would." Marco gave Jackie a sour look. "The only thing 'worldly' I've done was working on Joe Biden's campaign last year."
"Hmph. I was an enthusiastic 'Thunderbolt' supporter, and of course voted for him. But ... before I got out, I was seeing orders from his Department of Defense that I was really scratching my head over. It's been only a few months, maybe President Ross just needs time to settle in. We'll see." Marco fixed his gaze on Jackie. "Despite my support, I avoided politicking, it didn't seem appropriate in the military. I think I'd like to continue that for as long as I can. But I'll tell you what ... if somebody makes you a queen, we can talk politics to your heart's content."
Jackie grinned. "Deal."
"Speaking of Janna, have you heard from her?" Marco asked.
"No. I don't know if you realized it, but she didn't talk to me much after that Love Sentence concert the three of us went to, then stopped altogether after you left. I never learned why."
"Has anybody else heard from her?"
"Not that I'm aware of. It's like she left the planet."
Marco shrugged. "You know what Janna was like."
"Well, she was voted 'Most Likely to Become a Serial Killer Who Keeps Her Mother's Severed Head in Her Freezer,' by me and the rest of our senior class."
Marco snorted. "Of course she was. In any case, she probably crossed the wrong person and is in a shallow grave or cement-filled barrel somewhere."
"You're probably right, but I hope not." Jackie paused, then shifted the subject. "So ... now that you've retired from the Navy, what do you plan on doing with yourself?"
"Haven't really thought about the long term. Short term, try to solve my parents' murders. Right now, I'm looking at their research, seeing if there might be any clues there."
Jackie looked at him sidelong. "You know, I passed my dissertation defense, and graduated last week."
Marco horked horchata up his nose. After he finished his coughing fit, he attempted to apologize for not knowing.
"Dude! It's okay, you've had much more important things on your mind. My point is, since I'm now free, maybe I can help you? Having along an actual doctor of history, and archaeology buff, might be helpful as you try to decipher your parents' research."
"What about your job?"
Jackie shrugged, responding, "Don't have one; haven't found one that appeals to me, yet."
Something Jackie said earlier finally registered with Marco. "Um ... you said you had to take care of your dad. So he's okay now?"
"He's dead."
Marco again horked horchata up his nose. "Oh Jackie, I'm so, so, sorry. I should have known."
Jackie grinned. "It's okay; again, you had other things to deal with, including your own parents' deaths ... and we haven't spoken in years, other than me calling you with my condolences. So why would you have known?"
"Still, I'm sorry, that I didn't know, and didn't offer my condolences for your loss. And for not congratulating you on your degree, Doctor Thomas."
Jackie looked down, covering her mouth and laughing.
"What?" Marco asked in confusion.
"Nothing. You're just the best."
Marco locked eyes with Jackie when she looked back up at him. For just a moment, Marco thought he felt that old spark he once felt when thinking of her. He thought she'd understood earlier they were chatting about their relationship statuses, but wasn't sure ... the retired Intelligence officer decided to make certain.
"Um, Jackie, I want to make sure that when we were talking about our lunch choices, we were really talking about ..."
"Cock sucking and clit licking, yes, I got it."
"Shockingly crude, there, Jackie. That's something I would've expected out of Janna." Marco chuckled, then added, "Or my mom; drove dad nuts when she'd say it while giving a guest lecture."
Jackie grinned. "You know what, every now and then you have to let it all hang out. Speaking of it all hanging out, wanna go to a nude beach? I know we never 'did it' and we've literally just started rekindling our friendship ..." Jackie paused, looking inquiringly at Marco, who nodded his confirmation, "but we've been adults for long enough now that I think we can handle ..."
Marco felt a weird surge of interest in his brain that strangely seemed to originate from someone else's libido. Shaking off the bizarre sensation, he interrupted, "Sure, I'm not quite so shy as I used to be. Having to often take group showers kind of burns away that particular modesty..."
As always, stay amazing!
Blood Moon Shite II
I am thrilled to be able to continue this tradition I've celebrated every year since I started publishing my stories. This was your Xmas Eve gift; you'll receive another gift on Xmas Day.
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Karlos1234ify: This has my attention.
Mine, too.
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NightAroma: Oh ho ho, this looks interesting.
I thought so, too.
Hopefully whoever rules the Blood Moon (or at least the bond) is nicer than in the original show. Because let's be honest: he may be good for a couple laughs, but Marvel's Khonshu was a Grade-A JERK.
ALL moon gods are jerks. It's in the job description. "1. Control the night sky. 2. Protect travelers of the night. 3. Bring vengeance upon those who would do them harm. 4. Be a jerk."
But aside from that, I'm curious to see where this goes, especially with the whole 'sister' development...
So ... she has a sister. If Star will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will. Oh wait ... wrong franchise.
