Title: The Chameleon
Product description:
Is Disney's Moon Knight your favorite TV show? Do you think Steven Grant is adorable and Marc Spector is in desperate need of a baby sitter? Would you like to take that controller and help to steer Khonshu's Fist of Vengeance as he flies over the roofs of London?
Well now you can!
With the latest VR technology, you can fully immerse yourself in Marc's life in our brand new game: Moon Knight: Fist of Vengeance!
Take on the role of one of Marc Spector's alternate personalities and help our beloved moon boys to stay alive!
Bonus points if you can make them find happiness.
Oh wait, you turned on hard mode. Forget about that then.
Warning:Child abuse. Attempted suicide.
XxX
Chapter 1: The child
"Marc, what is going on with you? This is the fifth time you forgot to do your homework and now you even forgot about your football training. Where's your head at?"
You stared at Dad, blinking a few times rapidly. For just a moment, you were confused.
Where were you? The knowledge of an address came to you unbidden but that wasn't particularly helpful.
Who were you? A name... Marc Spector echoed in your mind. But that didn't feel right. You knew who Marc was, he was that poor kid that his parents blamed for his brothers death, that kid that always got beaten up and that had created a new identity just to cope with it all. But that wasn't you. You knew of him but you weren't him. Marc was just someone you watched, just like you sometimes watched Steven.
Then why were you suddenly up front, staring at Dad, instead of looking at him from behind, behind...
Dad was still expecting an answer. You felt like an actor who forgot his script. He thought you were Marc. What would Marc say in this situation? The kid had been forgetting things more and more. That won't do. You had to help him out. It broke your heart every time you saw him have a panic attack. Mom was a monster of course but Dad was starting to loose patience too and that couldn't happen.
"I'm sorry Dad. I'll be more careful, I promise. I'll... I'll write it down or something. I can manage!" you said, imitating Marc's voice the best you could.
"I'm not mad at you. I know it's been a lot. But you don't want to disappoint your Mom, do you?" Dad asked.
"...no. No, I don't", you answered quietly.
"And you've got to stop it with the accent. I don't understand why you'd do that. You don't listen when we call you, you keep rambling nonsense, half the time I get the feeling you have no idea where you even are. You almost sound like a different person. Why do you do that?"
Oh no. Dad wasn't just mad at Marc, he was mad at Steven, you realized. That was even worse. Steven was the one that deserved all of this the least. Not that Marc did deserve any of this either but Steven surely couldn't take it if both his parents hated him.
So you ducked your head and wrung your hands just like Steven often did and you said in a perfect imitation of Steven's accent: "You mean this, then? Oh, that's just a little game I came up with, y'know. Thought it might be a way to make a few mates at school, if you get me. Been practisin' it at home here and there—sorry if it's been botherin' you… "
Dad sighed heavily. "Just... Don't go around forgetting so much, okay?"
You straightened your posture and adopted Marc's serious expression again. "Okay. I'll be better, Dad. I promise."
Dad turned around and left and you wished you could just do the same, to go back to just watching. After all this wasn't your life, you were just a watcher. What if you messed something up and Marc got into even more trouble because of you?
But then from one moment to the next, the world moved away from you. The corners of your vision grew dark, everything but one little window. You sighed in relief and leaned back as you watched Marc make his way back to his room. He stopped just before opening it, looking back the way he came.
"Thanks, Steven", he muttered.
Of course Steven couldn't hear him. Steven was asleep. Steven didn't know how often Mom and Dad were mad at the boys, so how could he possibly talk his way out of it? It was you who had helped out Marc. But Marc didn't need to know that.
"You're welcome", you whispered quietly and for some reason, you knew instinctively that Marc couldn't hear you. That was fine. You were content to watch him from a distance.
XxX
You watched in silent agony as Marc broke down, sobbing. It was one of those days, one of the really bad ones. He couldn't even give the body back to Steven because now the body was all bruised and beaten and he didn't want Steven to feel that.
You didn't usually front like this, you never fronted for long, just a few seconds here and there to save a conversation. But Marc needed someone now, anyone and you were the only one left.
A gentle push was all it took and then you were up front and Marc was out cold. You touched the belt-shaped injury on your back and your hand came back bloody but you felt no pain. Of course you wouldn't. You were just possessing the body temporarily, it wasn't your body.
You looked to the door, listening. Only when you were convinced the hallway was abandoned you sneaked out and into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit. After you had treated the wounds the best you could, you headed back to the room. You didn't feel comfortable like this. You were not supposed to be here. This wasn't your life. This wasn't your body. You itched to give it back to either of its true owners but they were both out. Adrenalin was still pumping through your veins. You didn't feel the pain but you did feel that, making it impossible to sleep right now. So instead you booted up the PC and you started just mindlessly browsing.This internet is really something, you thought as you got more and more immersed in the digital world. Sitting here, browsing, no voices to listen too, no foreign emotions seeping into your heart, it was the most peaceful you've felt in a long time. Maybe you could change the weird black place you spend most of your time in into something more like this? It was worth looking into.
XxX
This was boring. So boring.
You sighed at the still picture of the screen. Marc had been sitting on the railing of that bridge for hours, just staring down. If he didn't hurry home soon, he'd miss dinner and that would only make matters worse. You would've already headed to sleep if not for the fact that you could feel an echo of Marc's convoluted emotions. They were all over the place, dark and depressing and-
You lurched from your seat and grabbed the railing of the bridge, cursing under your breath. Fucking Marc. You couldn't leave him alone for one damn minute!
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" you shouted at your shoes. Marc couldn't hear you, you knew, you'd switched too suddenly and had probably knocked him out for at least a few days. Served him right, the bastard.
"Think about Steven next time, asshole", you muttered and made your way back to the address.
XxX
"Look, Mum, look! We were makin' Mother's Day gifts at school, and here's yours!" Steven said, smiling brightly, holding up a pretty well crafted wreath of dried flowers, moss and twigs.
"No, Steven", you moaned, watching Mom's lips curl up in disgust.
"Why thank you, darling", Mom said to the oblivious child, taking the wreath. Steven did not hear the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. He did not feel Mom flinch when he surged forward to hug her.
Your first instinct was to push Marc forward. He would surely get away from her! But Marc had been dreading Mother's day for weeks, anxiety spiking at wildly fluctuating levels. You weren't sure he could take this.
Finally Steven let go of Mom. He smiled at her brightly once more.
"I can make dinner today if you like! I looked up a recipe for dressing. I can make salad!"
"That's nice", Mom bit out. You noticed her glancing over Steven's shoulder. Probably at Dad, who was sitting in the living room. Mom would never be so nice to Steven if he weren't listening.
Steven kept blabbing on about his school day and you could just watch and groan as he dug his grave deeper and deeper, following Mom around, being a pain in her neck. So eager to please. So desperate for praise and love. Silly, silly boy. But you didn't have the heart to interrupt him. Marc would he terrified to be in right now and Steven looked so happy.
It was in the evening, after Steven had brushed his teeth and showered and did all his homework like a good little boy, that she came.
Her breath stank of alcohol and she was carrying a riding crop. Mom had never ridden a horse in her life. She'd gotten that crop just for Marc.
The moment Steven spotted her silhouette in the corridor, you pushed him aside. Steven deserved a nice childhood. A happy childhood. Marc did too but for Marc, it was too late. There was only so much you could do for him. You could heal his wounds and you could pretend to be fine in his name. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes, you could take the beating in his stead. In the beginning it was harder. Marc would fight you even though you just wanted to help. But as time passed, his will became weaker, his mind more exhausted and it was easier for you to slip in.
"Marc? Maaaarc?" Mom whispered in a sing-song voice.
You perked up and you slipped out of your bed and ran to the door all eager-like.
"Mum? Are you gonna put me to bed?" you asked in Steven's slightly higher voice.
"Oh, I am going to put you to bed, you little worm", she snarled. Then she appeared in the doorway, caressing her riding crop lovingly, the way she had never caressed Marc or Steven.
Your face fell and you took a small step back. "Mum?" you asked fearfully. "I… I've been a good boy. I just… I just wanted to make you happy! I'm sorry if I did somethin' wrong!"
Mom smiled at you. And you patted yourself on the back. It had been the right choice to pretend to be Steven. Mom enjoyed breaking Steven. She enjoyed crushing his dreams and hopes. If you had pretended to be Marc, if you had just curled up and taken it all, she wouldn't have had as much fun. This way, the beating wouldn't be as bad. The bruises would take less time to heal and maybe, when they finally did, Marc would be well enough to take over again. If you cried really hard, maybe she would even stop early and you could let out Steven again, if the bruises wouldn't be noticeable in the morning.
"You're sorry!?" Mom said and lunged for you, grabbing you by the hair. "You're sorry if you did something wrong!? You know exactly what you did wrong, worm!"
You were very glad that you could not feel any pain as you cried and begged for her to stop. She roughly pulled your pajama shirt over your head to bare your back and your heart sank. Yeah, there was no way you could switch with Steven any time soon. You would have to front for days to heal from this. Damn it, you hated fronting.
XxX
You watched as Marc packed up all of his things, folding every piece of clothing carefully. They were moving. A new start, Dad had said. A new beginning. You scoffed. You doubted it would change anything. Chicago, New York, where was the difference? Unless Dad finally got off his ass and left Mom, nothing would change.
XxX
"Marc? Where do these bruises come from?" the teacher asked, leaning forward with that terrible, concerned look.
Marc opened his mouth but nothing came out. His panic was rising.
You watched him on the screen and groaned, practically feeling the situation spiral out of control. Mrs Salton would go to the parents and Mom would make up some excuse and then Marc would get an even worse beating. He probably wouldn't be able to stand it and then you would have to step in again.
You loved Marc, you really did, watching him was like watching a little brother. You didn't mind stepping in for him when he got beaten, not when you knew that you could not feel the pain when he definitely could. You just wish he would be more careful and give Mom less excuses to manhandle him. He was growing up now, he was almost twelve, he should know better. Of course you were still... older than him, you were...
"Marc?" Mrs Salton asked again.
You had to stop Marc from screwing this one up.
So you pushed your way up front and adopted the sheepish laugh of Steven (it always worked better on teachers) and said:
"Ah, that? That was during football practice. I was born with a weak heart, I was, and so I've gotta take these blood thinners for it, yeah? Makes me bruise somethin' terrible – just bumpin' against anything leaves a mark. Oh, that one there?" You purposefully show a very obviously hand-shaped bruise on your arm. "That'd be Billy Kellson's handiwork, actually. Fouled me proper last Monday, he did. Coach Barton's given 'im the boot from trainin' for a whole week, serves 'im right."
Mrs Salton relaxed and looked at you pityingly. "Well have you thought about trying out a different sport? Maybe something less physically demanding?"
You huff a bit. "Now you sound just like my Mom. But I like football! And the bruises? Hardly hurt at all, they just look worse than they are. Doctor said it's all fine so long as I'm breathin' alright – and I always am! Matter of fact, doin' sport's right important, keeps me body in good nick, it does."
"Well alright then, Marc. Just let me know if you ever change your mind."
"Will do, Mrs Salton."
You stand up and say your goodbye and you retreat the moment the door shuts behind you.
Marc turns around, confused for a moment, then ducks his head, pulls his hood over his head, buries his hands in his pockets and scurries down the corridor.
Another bullet dodged.
XxX
They were moving. Again.
To fricking Britain this time!
You had no idea what Dad was thinking. A new start, again!? When would he ever understand that the state wasn't the bloody problem!
Marc seemed to be of the same opinion. He sat on his bags for almost an hour while his parents finalized everything else, thinking.
Then he suddenly stood up.
"Dad, I just want to stop by Danny's one last time", he called out.
"Alright but hurry up, we have to catch the plane!" Dad called back.
You raised an eyebrow as Marc ran outside, one light bag slung over his shoulder. You knew he'd just given an excuse. His parents thought Danny was his best friend in school but that was a lie. Marc had no friends. Danny was just a study partner, someone he was paired with for school work because nobody picked him either. They certainly weren't close enough that Marc would bother to say goodbye.
And you were right. Marc did not make his way the few houses down to Danny's. He took a different turn. Then got onto a bus.
Wait a moment.
The bus drove on and on and as time passed, you were sure he'd miss the plane. Oh, his parents would be so furious! You were tempted to step in and take over but… You couldn't.
Marc was trying to run away.
And yeah, maybe that wasn't very brave but…
His parents were about to leave the country. For good. They didn't much care for him and months of planning had gone into preparing the move. Maybe… Maybe they'd actually let him go. Maybe they'd actually forget they had a son and maybe… maybe Marc could be free.
You watched him, heart beating wildly with every mile he put between him and that family.
He got to the main station. He boarded a train. Didn't even check where to. And then…
A ticket inspector asked them for their ticket. And Marc panicked. You sat up straight, preparing to intervene – but you didn't need to.
Steven was in. To say he was confused to suddenly find himself in a train was the understatement of the century. But this could work in Marc's favor. Steven of course introduced himself with his name: Steven Grant. Which would make it a lot harder for security or the police or whoever to find his actual family. With some luck, they'd put him in an orphanage or a foster home, or…
XxX
They did not put him in an orphanage.
Marc's parents had not flown to Britain without him and they'd put out a missing person alarm and Steven was returned to them. Of course the moment they called his name, Mom pretending to be the overjoyed mother who'd been afraid for her son, Marc was in again and he was terrified.
You groaned and glared at the TV screen. You felt for Marc, you really did and you wanted to help but…
You didn't remember standing up. You were just suddenly there, in Mom's embrace. Felt her shaking in what you knew were definitely not tears. You closed your eyes and hid your pained grimace in the folds of her dress. But then you took a deep breath and you raised your head and you smiled at Mom.
Using Steven's laugh because that's what the watching policemen knew, you said:
"I'm ever so sorry, Mum! I thought you were right behind me—I really did! Just hopped on the wrong bus, I did; thought it was headin' to the airport! Then I nodded off, and next thing I knew, I was at the station, and I thought you'd already flown off. So I tried to catch a train to the next airport, but I reckon I got on the wrong one, and— "
"Oh it's fine, it's all fine, the important things that you're back now", Mom 'reassured' you and pulled you close again. "You had me so worried, Marc."
"Isn't his name Steven?" the policeman asked.
"What? No of course it isn't", Mom made confused.
You glanced at her sheepishly. "Er, sorry 'bout that, Mum… I, uh, might've given 'em a fake name. They caught me ridin' without a ticket, see, and I didn't want to get in a proper mess. Thought I could sort it out meself and catch up to you… "
"Oh you silly boy. Don't ever scare me like that!" She turned to the police and thanked them again profusely and then she shuffled you away with her.
Then she leaned down, her lips touching your ear.
"Wait till we get home", she whispered maliciously and you shuddered.
Mom was the single most scary character in the entire TV series. Even if it was all not real and even if you couldn't actually feel the pain she dished out, she was still one hell of a creepy figure.
XxX
The noise of dishware against wood made you perk up and you turned to see a plate with a sandwich getting pushed through the cat flap, as well as a plastic bottle with water. You didn't feel hunger any more than you felt pain but you dutifully grabbed the food and ate it. You wanted Marc to return to a half-way healthy body when you gave it back at the end of his 'grounding period'. Once you were done with the food, you pushed the empty dish back through the flap and settled back down, with your back against the wall, legs barely able to stretch out in the small space. Good thing this show allowed you to skip time even while you were fronting. You would've died of boredom otherwise. Five weeks was along time. You couldn't wait for the new school year to start.
Well, at least you didn't get a beating. You had fully expected one after the stunt Marc pulled, running away like that. But maybe the attention brought on by coming to school with so many bruises had finally made Mom believe that she couldn't keep abusing her son like this without people noticing. It might've even been a reason for them to leave the USA in the first place, for all you knew. In any case, she had gotten creative with her punishment this time. You didn't complain. As boring as it was to sit in the closet all this time, it was preferable to leaving Marc with the pain.
XxX
It was one of those rare evening when Mom was out, on a weekend trip with some of her colleges. Marc was alone with his father, watching TV and you smiled softly as you watched the two at peace. Unfortunately, Marc's father had chosen a father bloody action movie, which was not to Marc's liking. But he would never complain of course, just shifted uncomfortably on his side of the couch.
When Marc squeezed his eyes shut for a particularly gory bit, the screen lit up with the familiar white script at the bottom: CHANGE IT?
You grinned and clicked yes and then you were sitting in Marc's place.
"Okay, that was hilarious!" you exclaimed, letting out a short laugh. "I mean, on the loo? Really?"
"I know, right?" Dad made and grinned back at you. "And I was totally right, the lawyer got eaten first."
You rolled your eyes. "Like that was ever in question. He was the most annoying character!"
"Almost makes you cheer for the T-Rex", Dad mused.
"It's just an animal. Can't blame it for following its instincts", you returned. Unlike certain other monsters.
Dad put an arm around you and pulled you to his side, smiling softly at you. You're eyes widened just a bit – Dad rarely showed his affection and you scrambled back into the darkness, pushing Marc forward.
Marc blinked, taking in his Dad's happy face and relaxed just a little bit. He huddled closer, face half hidden, not paying any attention to the movie. Which was too bad, it actually was rather good and you wanted to see how it ended. Oh well. So long as Marc was happy.
XxX
You sat in your favorite chair in front of your favorite desk, watching your favorite TV, munching on salty chips, a glass of high sugar banana juice at the ready. You'd tried soft drinks before, the classical choice, but Marc consumed so much of the stuff you got sick of the taste on your tongue whenever you were forced to front.
The current season was all about high school drama. You loved it.
You chuckled as you watched Steven stumble through his confession to his very first crush. He was so damn sweet, that boy. You could tell immediately she would reject him, of course but Steven hadn't caught on to that yet.
Watching through Steven's eyes, you tensed as you saw two familiar faces approach in a nearby reflection. Thompson and Burke were two of the worst bullies in school. They usually stayed away from Marc but they'd been eyeing Steven lately whenever he was out for weeks at a time. This did not bode well.
Growing concerned, you turned your attention back to the conversation, urging the girl to get it over with already.
"So I just thought, y'know, I mean it doesn't have to be a coffee, I don't even like coffee, that's just something people say innit-"
The girl rolled her eyes and you wanted to strangle her for looking at Steven like that.
The bullies were coming closer.
Impulsively, you pushed yourself off your comfy chair and surged forward.
"So what do you say, you me, on a date?" you asked Angelica cheerfully, making sure to keep to Steven's voice pitch.
No sooner did the words leave your mouth that you leaned back again, falling into your chair.
"Yeah, you're sweet and all but... no thanks", Angelica said.
Steven blinked, momentarily confused. You bit your nails, anxiously, still watching the approaching bullies in the reflection. Steven hadn't noticed the switch, had he? Marc never noticed when you did it for just a few seconds. You would've taken over for longer but Steven had to hear the rejection or he would wonder about memory loss again.
"Oh... alright..." Steven made. He only sounded disappointed but you knew his heart was crushed. Poor boy.
Angelica walked away and Steven turned around and you surged forward again because now the bullies where heading straight towards him.
"Well if that isn't Markie-harkie. We heard your stammering, oh it was so cute!" they mocked him. But Steven could no longer hear them.
You straightened your spine and glared at them so fiercely as if you were going to set them on fire.
"Got a problem, Burke?!" you snarled, using Marc's best glower. "Do you need a lesson in manners?!" You clenched your hands to fists at your side. You really, really didn't want to wake up Marc for this. God knew he needed his rest after the shit last night when he came home with the D in math.
Burke grinned but held up his hands in surrender. "Just worried for you, mate", he returned mockingly.
"Mind your own damn business!" you snarled and whirled around, heading for your next class.
"Crazy freak", you heard Thompson mutter. You pretended not to hear him. Marc might've turned around and thrown a punch but you weren't confident enough to hold your own against two boys that were easily a head taller than Marc and you. Dammit, you hoped Marc would be better soon.
XxX
"Yeah, uh-oh, you're not doing that, mate", you muttered and started typing when Marc opened the door to the roof and headed towards the edge. "Don't even think about it."
You pressed the blue button and pushed Steven forward.
At once the whirlwind of guilt and pain abated, replaced with the refreshing confusion of good ol' Steven Grant. You really needed to do something about those emotions seeping through. They were drenching your whole keyboard, making it harder for you to keep a good overview. Maybe you could outsource them somehow, integrate them into your system? Something to work on.
XxX
It was shortly after the High School graduation. Dad had promised to come but of course, he didn't. Mom probably made up some bogus reason to keep him away again. Not that it mattered. There was no reason that would justify that you were the only one silently cheering on Marc as he took the first steps into a life that would hopefully, hopefully set him free at last.
But it seemed Steven's at times unreasonable optimism had colored your own view. You had not expected to just be kicked to the street like that. Now Marc's emotions were spiraling down again.
You knew what was coming next.
"Getting creative now, are we?" you said as you watched Marc tie the rope to the curtain rod. "Not on my watch, buddy."
You rose from your chair and pushed Marc down, taking the rope off. You glared at it for a moment but then had an idea. You tied the rope into knots until it resembled one of those balloon animals. It made for a pretty cute dog, you decided, if one had a bit of fantasy. You sunk back into your chair again.
Marc blinked, then looked at the rope dog. He started crying and laughing at the same time, clutching it to him.
Satisfied, you rotated your chair towards the wall, where you used a pen to add another line to the two already there.
"Don't make me draw a diagonal or I will have to wake up Steven", you muttered.
XxX
You should really name this show, you thought as you watched Marc racing through the desert, chased by bad guys. Something like 'Spector boys!' or 'Marc: Late Night.' Although lately, it was less of a drama show and more of an action movie.
You cheered loudly when Marc managed to dive behind a dune and use the cover to shot down one of the enemy soldiers. You knew he couldn't hear you but that didn't matter to you.
Suddenly a shot rang and then another. You froze, staring in fear as Marc clutched his side. No, no, no! This was bad, really bad!
Your eyes flickered to the left, to Marc's panic-meter. You've set it up a few months go when dealing with Marc's painful emotions seeping into you had started to effect your work. Now you were more detached from him then ever, feeling neither his pain nor his emotions, but you could still visualize his panic.
Well soon you won't ever feel anything from him ever again if Marc died out there. He never should've gotten into the military. Stupid, so stupid! If Marc died out there, that would be the end of everything. The end of the show. But the show must go on!
You wanted to help, you wanted nothing more but you didn't know how. You were good at pretending to be Marc in a conversation if the need arose, if Marc just needed someone to cover for him because he was so exhausted. But you didn't front nearly often enough or long enough to have learned how to fight. Whenever neither of the boys could take over and you were given time with their body, you just holed yourself up somewhere, preferably with a computer and just waited until they'drecharged. You were no help to Marc in a situation like this.
Suddenly a sharp alarm started ringing through your little play room as Marc's panic-meter hit 100 and he slumped over, bleeding out in the sand. You jumped to your feet, panicking too, not because you felt Marc's panic but because if Marc lost consciousness, then you had to go up. There's no way you could force Steven to see that much blood.
Could you do it? Were you willing to take this final pain from him, to... to experience his death for him? Yes, you decided, yes you were. Marc might be a grown-up now, if barely, but you still remembered the little kid, a couple of years younger than you that he used to be. The kid that was yours to watch over.
But even as you made your decision, Marc suddenly started moving again. One of the enemy soldiers had come close to poke him with his rifle, checking if he was dead. Marc's hand suddenly stuck out, grabbing his wrist and you watched, agape, as Marc got a second wind. He beat the crap out of enemy 1 and then used the body to shield himself from the fire of enemy 2 and 3. Then he grabbed a gun and littered both of them with holes. And all the while, Marc's panic meter remained at zero.
Marc even managed to pull the bullets out of his own flesh without wincing and then stopped the bleeding by ripping the clothes off one of the corpses into makeshift bandages. Only then did he fall to the ground, exhaustion finally catching up and the screen went dark.
XxX
When you came to again, you were still in your chair and watched as Marc stumbled to his feet.
"That was close."
"EEP!" you made, slipping into Steven's voice automatically as you jumped, clutching your heart. You turned around and Marc was standing behind you. Except something about him was different. The cosplay was good, really good, but the stance was all wrong. Too relaxed.
"You scared me, mate! Who are you and watcha doing here?"
The young man looked stumped for a moment, as if he didn't quite know the answer to that himself.
"...Jake", he decided at last. "I think. Where is this?"
"This is my room, no visitors allowed!" you protest. "You're not supposed to be here, mate."
Shit, this was bad, really bad. You were glad Jake saved Marc but it was obvious that he was another...another and Marc couldn't get any more of those! There was already so little left of him.
"Then where am I supposed to be?" Jake asked.
That was a good question. This had never happened before. If Jake just vanished, would Marc loose a part of himself permanently? Maybe then it wouldn't be so bad if he stayed. Especially if Marc insisted on staying in the military.
But you absolutely could not have Jake here, in your room. What if he told the boys about you? This was your room, your secret. The boys weren't even supposed to know about you.
First of all you had to do damage control. You liked to cosplay as Marc yourself even when you were off and it had been a while since you'd changed your appearance. You couldn't really remember what you were looking like before. No matter, for now you should look like the boys so you could just pretend to be Steven for now, going with the voice you chose.
You shrugged. "I don't know. Where did Marc go when you were out there?"
Jake eyed you suspiciously. "You're not Marc?"
"...no", you said carefully. "I'm Steven. Don't you know me?"
Jake nodded slowly. "I know... the gist of it. But you can't be Steven. Steven doesn't know about Marc."
Fuck.
You straighten your posture from Steven's slump. "Right. Sorry about that, I had to test you. I'm Marc." He nodded towards the screen. "Thanks for saving my ass out there."
Jake scowled at you. "Why would you test me?"
You replied confidently: "To see how many of my memories you got. Steven knew almost nothing when he came to be. I need to know how much more of my fucking life I have to cut out to make room for yet another one."
Jake scoffed. "Don't worry about that. I have zero intention of living your life."
You raised a brow. "You don't?"
"Hostia! Absolutely not. Your life is shit."
You chuckled, understanding the sentiment completely. "Tell me about it. So what, you just came out to save my ass and that's it?"
Jake shrugged. "I don't want to die with you, so...sí."
Ignoring you, Jake stepped forward and inspected your screen. On it, Marc was climbing to his feet again. He started looting the bodies.
"That's not Steven", Jake made.
"That's me, right now", you claimed.
Jake turned towards you, his eyes burning into yours. "No, it's not."
You swallowed thickly and crossed your arms in front of you. "Of course it is. Who else would it be?"
"You tell me", Jake said. When you were silent for too long, he continued: "You're another alter, aren't you? One that even Marc didn't know about."
"I'm not-" you tried automatically.
"Keep your pants on, I don't give a shit." Jake turned away from you, already bored. "Whatever you do, you're here to protect him, aren't you?" He nodded towards the screen.
Quietly, swallowing a giant lump in your throat, you nodded and said: "I protect both of them."
"Then we're good." With that, Jake turned around and left. He walked off into the darkness not illuminated by your monitor. But you knew you'd see him again, and not just on screen.