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.

VI

Three hours in the air from LAX to the Rapid City Regional Airport in South Dakota, then another hour for the pair to get their rental car and drive to the River View Lodge near Hereford. Another hour to prep the paramotors and load the equipment that had been left for them, a half hour of flight training for Jackie, then another half hour flying time westerly to the butte where it all happened.

It was possible to drive to the butte with the right kind of vehicle, but visiting the site required special permission, the one thing Marco had not been able to procure on such short notice. He figured it was less likely the two would be stopped flying than driving; he doubted SAM batteries at the nearby air force base would be used against them ... at least he hoped not. Hiking had been discounted as it was difficult terrain and, more importantly, with the perpetrators still unknown, he was concerned that trying to flee on foot would work out about as well as it had when the camp was attacked.

For obvious reasons, Marco and Jackie made camp well away from the murder scene, about a fifteen minute hike from the plateau and the massive, collapsed, butte that dominated the area. Marco decided to shut it down for the day once the camp was all set up. It was late in the day, and the long shadows enveloping the site signaled night was soon to follow. They were also quite fatigued from the day of travel and physical activity neither were presently used to. It seemed prudent to wait and start fresh in the morning.

Sitting closely together, comfortable on blankets with their backs against packs for support, the two watched the fire over which their meal was cooking. Marco had made his version of field rations, Watchagot Stew, as in, "What's for supper?" "Whatchagot?"

"Well," Jackie remarked, breaking the silence, "so much for being the 'safe kid,' eh?"

"It's not that bad," Marco responded. "At least the food is fresh; we won't be risking food poisoning."

"No, nitwit, the paramotors. Or more precisely, mine. How much training are you really supposed to have before you fly one of those things on your own? That was an incredibly, incredibly, dangerous thing for me to do, and you didn't even bat an eye."

"Oh, well, yeah, but ... um ... I ... uh ..."

Jackie giggled. "Don't sweat it. What a rush!"

"Still..."

"So how did you manage to swing all this? Spreading around a few more simoleons?"

Marco was grateful Jackie didn't think to ask about his flight qualifications, answering, "Yes and no. Obviously I had to pay for all this, but getting it all together and waiting for us at the lodge was Mac's doing. He knows a couple guys at the air force base."

"I'd like to meet him, some day."

"I'm sure he'd like to meet you, he's in the market. I understand he cried only a little when the price for their help was taking one of the guy's sister on a date."

"I'm sure he'll be the perfect gentleman."

"He better be. She's an MMA fighter."

"Dude!"

"Thing is, he's worried about sex on the first date. He's saving himself for marriage, but if she insists, he might not be allowed to say 'no.'"

"Ah, rape humor; always funny."

"Isn't it though?"

The pair quietly watched the fire for a few minutes, just enjoying the ambiance. Finally, Marco decided to broach a certain subject.

"So," Marco broached, "you're a bit ... different, these days."

"Is different okay?"

"Very much so. But I was wondering when and why the chill surfer chick persona went away. Was it because you're no longer a pro 'boarder? Or maybe it's the other way 'round, and that's why you retired?"

"No, when to retire is just one of those decisions you have to make when you participate in a sport. I was good ... I mean, really good. That's how I was able to snag that sponsorship and be a regional spokesperson. But I didn't want to just be good, I wanted to be the best, and it wasn't happening no matter how hard I worked. Then one day I was heading home from practice and wasn't paying enough attention so went full speed down a long flight of stairs. All the doctors and nurses told me I was damn lucky to be alive. I think you can relate."

"Not at all."

"That was the beginning of the end of the 'boarding. But no longer being a 'surfer chick?'" Jackie thought for a few long moments before answering. "I can't really give a concrete reason other than I grew up. After I was no longer pro 'boarding I kinda felt lost. The sci-fi and fantasy stuff helped, but I still fell in with a party crowd during undergrad, and spent a lot of time at the beach and at Greek parties. My classwork suffered, obviously."

Jackie paused, stretched, then continued, "Finally, one day, out of the blue, I wondered what in the hell I was doing, where my life was going. I guess you can wake up naked on a futon, surrounded by a bunch of strangers, just so many times before you realize you need to change."

"A bunch of strangers?"

"The point is, it wasn't just one thing, it was a process that led me to finding the epiphitree."

"The Simpsons Movie. Nice. Not relevant ... well, I guess it is relevant."

Jackie returned to watching the fire. Marco sensed that was all he was going to get, at least for now. Changing the subject, Marco quietly said, "Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of the massacre of the expedition, of my parents' murders."

"Oh, Marco. I didn't realize. I should have remembered. I'm so, so, sorry."

"No, it's okay. We forgot because we've been working so hard to solve their murders." So quietly Jackie almost missed it, Marco whispered, "So there's nothing to be sorry about for missing it, or for surviving..."

Jackie squeezed Marco's hand. The pair returned to silently watching the flames.

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

Jackie slowly emerged from her slumber. It appeared to be deep night, and there was definitely a chill in the air, but she was comfortable, due in part to the raging campfire; she thought Marco must have awoken before her and fed it. As her eyes adjusted, she realized Marco was still up, standing away from camp, his back to her. He was gazing toward the rubble of the fallen butte, a shadowy silhouette partly illuminated by the moon. Marco was eerily lit by the fire, his shadow cast far into the distance, dancing in the flickering flamelight.

Jackie quietly rose, then began to walk to join Marco; she stopped after only a few paces. After pausing for a couple seconds, she returned to her belongings, fishing out her phone. She had the strangest feeling something was going on, maybe something that would give her answers, so she thumbed up the camera and switched on video recording.

As she came close to Marco, seeing him better away from the blinding light of the fire, she realized he was standing strangely. With one hand on his hip and his butt slightly askew, his stance looked almost feminine.

He must have heard Jackie approaching, as Marco said, softly, "That is where I died."

Jackie stopped, still several feet away. Equally softly, she said, "Almost. You were lucky."

"No, I was not. I died, a year ago," Marco pointed at the butte, "right there."

Chills reverberated up and down Jackie's spine, and not from the cold. The cadence of Marco's speech was different, and she detected an accent she could not identify. She replied, "You were attacked in camp, and they found you not far from it."

"Nobody has found me!" Marco shouted. He shook his head, then resumed, again softly, "I see that place, and I know I died there. I know I died at the hands of foul usurpers, stealing my throne and kingdom, a kingdom my family had ruled for thousands of years."

Jackie jumped as Marco unexpectedly slammed a fist into a palm. "But I can't remember anything else about what happened! I'm not even sure how much I'm remembering about my home, or my life that was; it's all jumbled, fragmentary ... dreamlike. Most of what I remember clearly is from the past year ... and they're not my memories."

Marco paused for a long few moments, then continued, "I can't remember who killed me, or why in this particular spot; why I was here and not home. I don't remember how I was murdered ... but I do remember a golden light afterwards, calling me, and as I went toward it, it glowed red." Marco looked up to the sky at the moon. "Much like the color of tonight's blood moon."

More talk of a blood moon, Jackie thought, as a chill travelled her spine for the second time. She looked into the sky. She caught her breath at the beauty of it, with nothing but the moon to diminish the starlight; it was not the first time she had seen such a sight thanks to her travels, but it was still a rare one, so could still leave her in awe. She moved her gaze to the moon, then raised her phone to make sure she captured it in the video she was making. It was a waning gibbous moon, its more than half-visible surface bright white ... with no hint of crimson.

"Marco," Jackie began.

Marco turned his head just far enough so that he could see Jackie, behind him and off to the side, out of the corner of an eye. Over his shoulder, he responded, "Yes ... Marco. Just Marco, all alone, nobody else."

"Marco," Jackie again began.

"Go back to sleep, I'll join you in a bit. I just want to be alone for a while."

Marco's voice had become husky with emotion and heavily accented. A cold chill traversed Jackie's spine for a third time at the sound of it.

Jackie returned to her blankets, the creepy exchange leaving her unsettled and wondering what in the hell had just happened.

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

At the crack of dawn, after a camp breakfast and putting out the fire, the pair shouldered their packs and trekked to where the Spectors' expedition had set up their camp and field laboratory the year before.

Jackie waited, silently and patiently, as Marco went to work. He examined the ground for telltale signs of encampment and other human activity, for the blood of the victims of the massacre, for the shell casings of the bullets that shot him, and found ... nothing.

The site was as clean as where Marco had been attacked at the university.

Marco walked toward where his fragmentary memory told him he had been found. He looked for the telltale signs of his crawling, and bleeding, on the sandy ground, and found ... nothing.

Returning to where Jackie was sitting, watching, Marco dropped down beside her.

"This is a problem," Marco mused.

"I don't need to be a military detective," Jackie responded, "or even an archaeologist, to know we should have found something, even if it was just disturbed ground. This place has been wiped clean, returned to its original state."

"I don't know how you do that. It's like magic."

"Maybe the aliens who built the pyramids did it," Jackie quipped.

Not rising to the bait, Marco replied, "Maybe we need an archaeologist's touch. Whoever did it might have just covered things over, and clues are still here, buried."

Hours later, Marco and Jackie stood in the middle of a small, rectangular grid. Although neither were rank amateurs at archaeology, both having worked digs in varying capacities, it wasn't quite as tight as a pro's, but adequate. They had dug down several feet in a couple places, carefully examining the dirt, sand, rock, and vegetation that had grown in the year since, and found ... nothing.

"Craptacular," Marco mumbled. At a normal volume, Marco said, "I think we're skunked."

"I can't disagree," Jackie replied.

"Let's go look at the butte. Dad said they had found a hidden ... pylon, I think they called it, that they thought must be the entrance to a temple within the butte. Maybe there's something left," Marco said, as a sour look crossed his face, looking at the rubble, "but I doubt it."

A few minutes later, the pair were standing at the edge of the rubble field. "I think it was here," Marco said, as he pointed at the butte. Jackie felt a chill, remembering his pointing the night before.

Marco climbed onto the rocks and boulders as Jackie did the same, about twenty feet away. As the minutes ticked by, Marco became more pessimistic and disillusioned. He jumped when Jackie called, "Marco, over here."

It took a few minutes climbing over boulders and rubble for Marco to reach Jackie. When there, Jackie pointed, saying, "Here, here, and here." In each spot was a single primum rune. "My guess is the pylon, and the entrance to whatever it was gating, is buried here."

Marco groaned, looking at the huge boulders. "The only thing that will shift those is explosives and heavy mining equipment. Unless you know a magic spell."

Jackie closed her eyes, and with outstretched arms, cried, "Ascendio boulderino!"

Nothing happened.

"I guess I have magic only in the bedroom," Jackie quipped.

Marco chose not to respond to Jackie's flirting. Instead, he said, "I think we're skunked again." Marco stared at the rock for a minute. "Damn. Whatever was here had to be really important for the bastards to take the time to blow it up. We won't know why until we find mom's and dad's work on it. Damn, damn, damn." Marco paused, then, his anger spent, added, "I don't think we're going to find anything. Let's go clean up our dig, then head back to camp."

Later, back in camp, Marco flopped down onto some blankets. He covered his face with his hat, saying, "Time to wallow in my disappointment ... or take a nap, whichever."

Jackie sat cross-legged on her own blankets, pulling her laptop out of her pack. "Maybe I'll take a few winks in a bit, but I want to do a little research first."

Marco responded with something Jackie didn't catch, his voice muffled by the hat. Starting her search, she marveled at the quality of the internet connection, provided by military satellites and the giant, hidden, secret antennas around the air force base. She pulled up a website with a lunar calendar, typing in the date of the year prior.

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

As Marco slowly awoke, he heard a sobbing voice, echoing in his consciousness like dialog over a movie scene as it faded out, "No, not you; it can't be you..."

It was early evening, and Marco was a bit hungry, having skipped lunch. Once he was fully awake, Marco's thoughts of dinner wavered when he realized Jackie was leaning against her pack, watching him.

'You're in troubllleee...'

Shaddup. You're not real.

'How do you know you're real?'

"Marco," Jackie began, "I want you to watch something." She handed Marco her phone, with the video of the previous night ready to play. Marco tapped the start button.

Marco watched the video in silence. When it was over, the voice in his head said, 'I don't remember that.'

Out loud, to Jackie, Marco said, "I don't remember that, either. I must have been sleep walking and talking ... acting out a dream I must have been having."

Either? Jackie thought, but decided not to go there, yet. "You said you were seeing a blood moon. You saw in the video there was no blood moon last night, right?"

Marco reluctantly nodded. "I guess I was just remembering last year's again."

Jackie shook her head. "I looked it up. There was a waxing crescent moon that night, but no blood moon."

'Didn't you calculate there should have been a blood moon that night?'

I did. I must have done it wrong.

'Maybe it's metaphorical. We've both seen blood moons when there was no blood moon to be seen.'

Your point?

'Perhaps what the tablet said was true, there was a Blood Moon that night, visible only to us, and our souls have been bound together. It would explain a lot.'

"That's ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous, it's science," Jackie remarked. "We've known how to calculate lunar phases for centuries, and you know it."

"It's nothing, Jackie, just ..."

"ENOUGH!" Jackie exploded. "After seeing that video, you really think I'm buying your deflections any longer? Goddammit, Marco, talk to me!"

Marco stepped the video back to a random spot, then watched for a few seconds. He stopped the video, then sighed. "Ever since I was attacked at the university I've been hearing voices." Marco paused, thinking. "No, strike that, I've been hearing a voice."

"I presume it's not yours, your inner monologue."

"I ... suppose it could be. But it's never sounded like a woman before. And since I moved back home I've been seeing a woman all over the place."

"What woman?"

Marco thought Jackie actually sounded jealous. Wow, things are going fast, he thought.

'My, don't you have a high opinion of yourself. She's just being compassionate, like with a hurt puppy.'

No, she's not!

'I love puppies, by the way. Rainbows, too.'

"Oh, shut up!"

"I'm just trying to help."

"Not you, Jackie. Her."

"Who her?"

"I don't know. She's our age, has really long blonde hair, and ... has these weird heart tattoos on her cheeks."

'They're not tattoos, they're...'

The voice faded away. Marco shook his head. "She was speaking to me again, and her voice stopped mid-sentence."

"How frequently does this happen?"

"Sporadically. It seems to happen most often after I wake up, or my mind is ... not wandering, exactly, but casting about, such as when I'm searching for something. But it can happen randomly, too."

Jackie paused. She decided she had made her bed and now had to sleep in it ... with Marco. Wow, things are going fast, she thought. She then gave her head a little shake ... geeze, what am I doing, we need to get to know each other again, first.

"I'm an historian, not a psychiatrist," Jackie finally responded, "but this all sure does make you sound crazy."

Marco shrugged.

"You experienced a lot of trauma this past year. You've sustained multiple serious blows to the head, and experienced a lot of blood loss. Maybe there's been brain damage."

Marco remembered Colonel Smith was skeptical that brain damage explained his memory loss, but skepticism was not certainty; maybe she was wrong. Too, maybe the university doctors who said he had merely sustained a concussion were wrong.

"Doctors say no, so maybe it is some sort of crazy. I know a place; maybe I'll get checked out." Marco chuckled. "Janna was the one obsessed with shrunken heads, but I'm going to end up with one."

Jackie laughed.

"It's getting late. We should pack up and get out of here before sunset; I don't relish the idea of trying to land the paramotors after dark."

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

From a safe distance away, a woman in camouflage fatigues lowered her binoculars. She chewed on her lip for a few seconds, then reached into her pocket. She pulled out what looked like a compact, flipping it open to reveal a mirror on one half and buttons on the other. She pressed a sequence of three buttons, then put the compact to her ear.

"Yeah, it's 22 ... no, the other 22. ... What do you mean I'm supposed to say it backwards to be in code? 22 is 22 forward and backward. ... Well, you're the dumbass that assigned it to me! Now shut it and put her on." 22 waited a few long moments, then began speaking again. "It looks like they're leaving without having found anything. However, it does appear that they're getting help. I don't think they could have gathered that much equipment that quickly, alone, and even your bugs can't crack whatever encrypted communication channels they're using for their phones and computers. ... Yep, I agree we should widen who we're watching, then. ... Be prepared to 'disappear' them, too? Are you sure? ... Harrow will be okay with that?"

22 had to pull the compact from her ear as a very loud, very angry, female voice erupted from the earpiece.

"Alright, alright, don't get your taco in a twist. ... Racist or sexist? Whichever one pisses you off the most." She snapped the compact closed without waiting for a reply. "Fucking bitch must be one hell of a lay."

On this Memorial Day, for those fictional men and women lost under Marco's command, and for the real men and women whose ultimate sacrifices make it possible for a nutter like me to write bad fan fiction based on cartoons and comic books.

As always, stay amazing!