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.
VIII
Star crashed into a rack of hand weights, the lighter dumbbells flying away while most stayed put to inflict painful contusions on her body. As she rolled over, gasping in pain, she screwed her eyes tight, repeating, in her mind, 'I will not cry ... I will not cry ... I will not cry ...'
Opening her eyes and looking up at her advancing sister, Star burst into tears.
The sister stopped a few paces away, calmly regarding her sibling, her face betraying none of the emotions she might be feeling.
Finally, Star sniffled, cuffed away her tears, then held out her hand. Her sister moved quickly to help her up, then half-carried her to a bench.
"Meteora, why the fuck didn't you offer to help me up?"
Star's sister sat on the bench beside her, lazily dropping an arm across her shoulders in a half-hug. "Because you needed to ask. If I had simply offered, it would be accusing you of weakness ... and you know what mama and papa think about that."
"Dad doesn't ... well not that much, anyway."
"He loves you Star, so he overlooks a lot."
"Don't you love me?"
"I do, but one day you'll be queen, I have to show you the proper respect." Meteora sounded bitter, which went completely over Star's head.
"Well, dad loves you, too," Star responded.
"He's never shown it."
"Bullshit!" Star yelled.
Rather than respond to the outburst, Meteora changed the conversation.
"Okay, look, you're tough. You rarely cried when you were a little girl, even when hurt far more than this. You're sixteen now, yet you were absolutely bawling. What's going on?"
Star took a deep breath to shout a protest, then noisily let the breath out. "It's what dad made me do ..." she answered, meekly.
"Ah. That. What lesson did you learn from it?"
"That I'm a royal screw-up."
Meteora cuffed Star across the back of her head, producing a resounding smack.
"Ow!" Star protested.
"Try again," Meteora responded. "This time remember you're the cornapple of papa's eye."
Star sighed, calming her thoughts. Finally, she said, "He did it to teach me to have better regard for the lives of our men, to take the counsel of others, and to not be so dangerously arrogant. To teach me humility."
"You got it, sweetie."
"But that doesn't disprove I'm a screw-up, just that, that's not why dad was punishing me."
This time, Meteora did not respond right away. After a minute of awkward silence, she said, "It's not my place to say whether you're a screw-up, at least not seriously. You will be queen one day, regardless. And you do have to learn how to handle the armies, even lead them personally."
"But why? We haven't had a serious need for whole armies in over a thousand years. Not since Eclipsa the Eradicator obliterated the last of the Monster city-states and their armies."
"Tradition."
"Tradition," Star spat, in a tone dripping with scorn. "Tradition is that the first-born girl becomes queen, yet that didn't matter."
"That's not the entire tradition, Star, and you know it. It's the first-born girl connected to the magic that becomes queen, and it's been that way ever since the royal magic wand was lost. I'm not the first to be passed over."
"Well, it's still not right. Maybe when I'm made queen, I'll fix it by making you queen instead."
The girls fell into another period of awkward silence. Finally, Meteora said, "We still have time left in our workout period; in the spirit of Eclipsa fighting the Monsters hand-to-hand, wanna mêlée?"
Star's response was an excited grin. She might not want to lead armies, but she loved fighting.
The two moved to the middle of the cavernous room, meant for indoor workouts and battle training. Taking ready-stances, the two sized each other up, each waiting for the other to attack.
Finally, Star's patience broke and she sprung forward, attacking her sister. Meteora grinned, having anticipated Star's lack of patience. Star did surprise her a little, choosing an attempt at a roundhouse punch as opposed to one of her usual, more subtle, opening attacks, but Meteora deftly stepped out of the way.
Not expecting Meteora's speed at dodging her attack, Star was unprepared to check her follow-through, causing her to flail off-balance. Meteora grabbed her, flinging her into another rack of equipment.
Despite the pain, Star leapt up, again attacking. Star threw punches and kicks, one after another, which Meteora barely blocked as she retreated. Nearing a wall, Star exposed herself to attack, Meteora quickly taking advantage of the mistake. Meteora connected with a punch to Star's left cheekbone, then grabbed her, slamming her face-first into the wall. Meteora then pummeled Star's back hard, although taking care not to damage kidneys. She stepped back as Star slumped to the ground.
Star rose after a few seconds, then, with a growl, launched herself at her sister. Meteora felt a slight pang of disappointment in her sister; with that reaction, Star's loss became inevitable.
Meteora deftly sidestepped Star's attack, crashing her elbow onto the back of Star's skull, knocking her to the floor. Star quickly jumped up, choosing to rise in Meteora's direction, attempting to surprise her. Meteora was ready, and again knocked Star to the floor, this time with another punch to her left cheekbone.
Star rose more cautiously this time, Meteora stepping back into a defensive stance. Star again attacked with punches and kicks, which Meteora again deftly blocked. Surprising Star, Meteora allowed one blow to land that would cause minimal damage, in order to discombobulate Star's balance while up close. Meteora punched Star a third time in her left cheekbone, the eye above which was already half closed from swelling, punched her in the gut, then, as Star doubled over, kneed her in the forehead. Meteora grabbed her, then threw her into yet another rack of equipment.
Star screamed in pain and rage. As she stood, her hands began to glow. Meteora quickly retreated, running to a rack filled with Bo staffs, grabbing one.
As she turned, Meteora heard Star yell, "Narwhal blast!" Meteora deftly sidestepped the first small whale, then used the staff to knock the others aside. The narwhals were quickly followed by spiders, minotaurs, werewolves, flaming insects, and other fantastical creature-like spells. Meteora deflected them all, knocking them aside as she leaped, ran, ducked, and sidestepped the rapidly flung spells, moving across the room with the Bo staff constantly in motion.
Meteora shook her head in disappointment. Star's penchants for aggressiveness and childishness were costing her again. Magic, as energy, could be used in a beam that was nearly impossible to dodge or deflect. Solid constructs took concentration, effort, and time to convert the energy to matter; it was still incredibly fast, but slow enough that a person without magic, but sufficiently trained and skilled, could battle against it. Meteora, trained by Moon the Archwitch and River the Barbarian, more than fit that bill.
As Meteora moved across the room, she also obliquely advanced on Star's position. When she was finally within staff-length, she cracked the end of the staff against Star's chest, snapping the staff like a wet towel.
Star screeched like a banshee.
Her eyes filled with blood lust, Star screamed, "Dammit! I barely have any tits and you smash one?" Bellowing an angry battle cry, her hands brightly glowing, Star launched herself at Meteora, ending the fight.
Meteora stood over the unconscious body of her sister. She dropped the staff to the floor, then examined the small wound on Star's head where she had made contact, breaking off a third of the pole. It was minor, nothing that her mother's magic, or even Star's nascent magic skills, couldn't easily fix.
Satisfied Star was not dead, Meteora walked over to a rack of towels, picking one off, then using it to absorb the sweat on her body. She regarded Star, her mind filled not with concern for her sister over the numerous wounds and contusions inflicted this day, but with their conversation.
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Marco awoke, the morning sun shining brightly onto the bed, a vague memory of dreaming about watching a girl-fight fading as he shook off the last vestiges of sleep. As he attempted to move, he was hit with a wave of pain. He seemed to be stiff and sore all over. He swung his feet out of bed, only then realizing he was still in the same clothes he wore the night before. He grabbed the headboard to steady himself, wincing from the pain in his hand. Bringing both his hands up, he realized his knuckles and the backs of his fingers and hands were bruised. He did not feel rested, as if he'd had little actual sleep.
As he walked slowly to the bathroom, Marco tried to figure out what was going on. The last thing he remembered was leaving Jackie's house in the wee hours of the morning, after watching the final two episodes of The Mandalorian with her. He showered, dressed, then made his way to the kitchen.
Sitting at the table with a cup of cold brew, Marco devoured a bowl of "Captain Blanche's Frosted Seeds." He chuckled at the name change without any associated change to the formula. Actual consumers of the product didn't care; the name change came to placate "health activists" interested only in symbolism, or, as Marco called them, "idiots." Once finished, Marco made another cold brew then moved to the investigation bullpen. As the computer booted, he called Jackie.
Marco was greeted with a slurred, "Wha-ha-low?" Jackie sounded very sleepy.
"This is your wake-up service," Marco responded, using his best "English butler" voice, "calling with madam's requested reminder."
"Wha? Marco?" There was a brief pause. "What's the hell's wrong with you, calling so damn early?"
Marco glanced at a clock; it was a few minutes after ten. "This is early by you?"
"No normal person gets up before noon!"
"Ah, yes, the cry of the indolent and jobless." Before Jackie could retort, Marco interjected, "You hinted you might have found something?"
"Oh, right. I'm tempted not to tell you, for interrupting my sleep. Alright, I'll be there in thirty."
Almost two hours later, Jackie was sliding into the main chair at the desk, Marco moving to the side. She was holding a huge mug of steaming coffee, which was odd considering the heat of the day, something she was clearly conscious of, given how skimpily she was dressed. It was the most exposed skin he'd ever seen from her in public, not counting the nude beach. He wondered about that, as he worked to stay focused on the investigation and his attention ... and eyes ... off her almost bare chest.
"So, what is it you want to show me?" Marco inwardly cringed, the words coming out before he thought about them.
Jackie, for her part, didn't pick up on the possible other meaning of the inquiry. Jackie worked the mouse, navigating the file system until she found the file she was looking for, then opening the document file. It was an article Marco's father had written for an archaeology magazine, about a temple at one of their dig sites. She scrolled to an image in the file, expanding it to fill the screen.
"What do you see?" Jackie asked.
It was a photo of a carving on the temple wall, in a shape he'd seen many times before. "It's a Celtic cross," Marco stated.
Jackie took a breath to reply, but Marco cut her off with, "Wait..."
Jackie grinned.
"That's not a Celtic cross," Marco breathed. "And obviously so."
The carving was very similar to a Celtic cross with an elongated stem, but with two notable differences. The upper arm was extremely short, and the two side arms were not straight, but bent up at an angle. The nimbus ring was instead a solid disc, not a unique feature but uncommon. Marco glanced at the caption, which read, "Stylized Celtic cross."
Marco looked at Jackie. "Was dad right, or are we right that it's not?"
" We are ... I think. The Celtic cross as we know it first appeared around the eighth century. When archaeologists found this symbol, they decided it was added later to the sites where it was found. But it looks to me like that's not true ... it appears to be one of those cases where findings were published by very early archaeologists who weren't very studious, making conclusions without more supporting evidence. Nobody's revisited the interpretation in all the time since, just referencing those early works."
"Okay, sounds good so far."
"What if that early interpretation is wrong, and they weren't carved later? That's significant because the symbol appears alongside even the earliest primum runes; in fact, it was thought to be a primum rune for a while; it's even found all over the world, like the runes. I think the science is pretty clear that the Celtic cross is a combination of Christian and 'pagan' symbolism and not, to paraphrase your dad, a stylization of whatever this is."
"Very interesting. What does that have to do with our investigation?"
"That I might have made a new discovery is not enough? It's science, beyotch!"
"Jackie, while I appreciate ..." Marco's reply was cut short by the crazy grin on Jackie's face.
Marco rolled his eyes. "Okay, you got me ... how is it relevant?"
Jackie's grin faltered. "I don't know if it is relevant, actually. But I was looking for something that stood out, and the symbol appears here and there in your mom's hand-drawn figures and hand-written notes, sorta like a doodle. I also thought at first it was a stylized Celtic cross like your dad did, but I wondered why your mom would be doodling something that wasn't in any way related to what she was working on at the time she drew it. So I went digging ... no pun intended ... and discovered just how old it is if it isn't a later addition to the carvings at the sites. Maybe it's nothing ... maybe it's something, like a hidden clue. I haven't so far found anything in this material," Jackie waved her hand at the computer, "but maybe there's something on the drives."
Marco nodded his head. "Good sleuthing." Before he could squelch the impulse, he kissed Jackie on the cheek, causing her to blush; embarrassed that he'd done it without consent, he decided to man up and pretend he hadn't done it. "We'll have to keep it in mind when we crack the drives." Marco added, mumbling, " If we crack the drives."
Jackie leaned back and stretched. "Say, did you hear the news?"
Marco replied, "No, haven't turned on the radio or surfed today."
"I heard it on the radio driving over. Seems a couple was attacked by five thugs in a back alley, last night. Don't know what the two were doing in a back alley, although I can guess."
"Yeah; drugs, sex, or Pokémon cards."
"Sounds about right. In any case, the thugs were out for mayhem so weren't placated by money; they were looking to cut somebody up. Apparently, the couple was saved by a good samaritan. Beat the bad guys nearly to death using his bare hands."
"Glad to hear it ... but ... why does that stand out enough to get a news story?"
"The couple says their savior was in some sort of costume. Covered, head to foot, in some sort of red material, wearing a big, red, hoodie over it, with the hood up. The red hoodie made me think you were out and about being a hero." Jackie gave a short laugh, indicating she was joking.
Marco didn't laugh, remembering the possible witness to his attack mentioning seeing somebody in a red hoodie. Almost unconsciously, Marco moved his hands, the bruises he discovered in the morning not yet completely faded, out of Jackie's line of sight.
Jackie, for her part, noticed the gesture, but chose to do nothing more than give Marco a sidelong glance. In her mind, she squirreled away what she saw, alongside the new symbol.
Hours later, the time spent alternately examining files and guessing passwords, both slumped in their chairs and yawned, almost simultaneously.
"I'm bushed," Jackie said, "and not in a good way."
"Me, too," Marco replied. He yawned again. "Wanna go get something to eat?"
"Mmmmm ... unless you want to make me some of your Super Awesome Nachos ..." Jackie began, hopefully.
Marco shook his head. "Too tired even for that."
Disappointment evident in her voice, Jackie continued, "... then I'd rather just pick something up at McArnold's as I head home, then flop into bed for a nap after eating. Pick it up again tomorrow?"
"'Estoy muy ocupado mit bullshit,' as dad would say in Gerspanglish. Got errands to run and some house maintenance to do." Marco thought for a few moments. "How about we get back together on Sunday, and make it a fun day instead of picking this stuff up again? It's the fourth."
"Sounds like a date."
"It's not a date, Jackie. It's just two friends sharing food and fun on a holiday; one man, one woman ..."
Jackie interrupted, "Yeah, like I said, a date."
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Jackie and Marco walked back toward Marco's car after attending the Echo Creek Independence Day parade; Jackie had switched back to her typical t-shirt and shorts, and had added an additional streak of colors to her hair, red and blue, with no color in-between to stand in for white. They chatted and laughed amiably as they walked, eventually approaching a skate park. They stopped to watch kids and very young adults performing their skating tricks.
"Do you miss it?" Marco asked.
"Sometimes. It was a big part of my life. Every now and then I think about a comeback, especially recently since they added it to the Olympics."
"Surely you're too old." Marco clenched, the phrase escaping his lips before his brain engaged. Predictably, Jackie's face flushed and "Angry Jackie" appeared.
"I'll show you ... and don't call me Shirley!" Jackie stomped to the halfpipe, waving down one of the young adults. "Hey," she called, "may I borrow your kit?"
The girl looked Jackie up and down. "Are you kidding?"
"Serious as a heart attack."
"You look old enough to have a heart attack, but what the hell. Might be fun to watch."
Jackie chose not to clap back at a person kindly lending her equipment to a complete stranger. As Jackie put on the pads, the other skaters gathered around. One commented, "Hey, grandma, you better not ... you'll break a hip or something."
The retired professional skateboarder flashed Marco a predatory grin as she finished adjusting the helmet. She walked over to the lip of the 'pipe, set down the borrowed skateboard with the front wheels over the edge, then stepped on. She rushed down the side and started pumping, skating up and down to gain speed, then, when she thought she had enough momentum, barreled up a side to perform her first trick. Jackie mistimed it completely, hooking the 'board's rear wheels on the lip. She flew up and out of the 'pipe, landing on the concrete butt-first with a thud and loud "oof," then tumbled a couple times before coming to rest in a heap. Marco and the skaters rushed to check on her.
"Owie owie owie owie owie," Jackie complained, face down. Marco turned her over. "I think I broke a fucking hip!"
Everybody recoiled slightly. Jackie moved so that her weight was on only one cheek, then moved to the other. "No, I think I just bruised my butt."
Jackie remained on the ground as she removed the pads and helmet, handing them back to their owner. One of the other young adults remarked, "Next time you listen to us; eh, vieja?"
"¡Chinga tu madre!" Jackie replied, flipping the double bird.
"You should be so lucky," the skater shot back, as the group walked off, laughing.
Marco helped Jackie to her feet, who groaned audibly as she grabbed her shapely ass with both hands. "I think I need a skinny dip in my hot tub. Join me?"
"Um, I don't think..."
"Hey, I helped you shower when you were hurt."
Marco blushed, which produced a blush on Jackie's cheeks. "This is a little different, but okay, I'll join you, but with bathing suits or at least underwear."
"Okay," Jackie said, faking a pout.
Marco felt a profound sense of disappointment not his own wash over him.
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Later, after the hot tub, Jackie was still in too much pain to do much, so the two lounged at Jackie's house watching TV. Marco sat on the floor, as Jackie lay chest-down on the couch, twin ice packs resting on her butt cheeks.
Just as the two became hungry, a neighbor, knowing Jackie now lived alone, dropped by to invite her to the holiday barbecue several families in the neighborhood were holding. With a happy grin the neighbor immediately invited Marco too, and when arriving back at the shindig with Marco and Jackie in tow announced Marco as Jackie's boyfriend. The two immediately exclaimed in unison, "We're not a couple!"
Marco had a great time, and based on his observations, so did Jackie, although she stood the entire time. It did not escape his notice that when Jackie was talking to the women at the party, the ladies would often look in his direction and smile. He did think they believed them when the two had said they were not a couple ... given the way everybody, even the young women who would normally flirt with Marco, were not-so-subtly trying to encourage their couplehood.
As twilight fell, the party broke up as the attendees headed off to wherever they planned to watch fireworks. Thinking Jackie couldn't tolerate a long wait sitting in a car because of traffic, they decided to walk to a nearby park.
Picking their spot, Marco spread out a blanket, then sat. Jackie, who had brought a fluffy pillow to sit on, gingerly sat close to him.
After a few minutes, Jackie began to squirm. "Even with the pillow," she complained, "the ground is still too hard." She cocked her head, looking at Marco. "Your lap looks like it will be much softer ... may I, kind sir?"
Marco doubted it would be softer, and it struck him as way too intimate, but he didn't think Jackie would accept either excuse so didn't refuse. Marco arranged his legs semi-crossed, onto which Jackie set the pillow. She sat, leaning back into Marco. She took his arms and put them around herself. "Yes," she remarked, "this is perfect."
Despite his misgivings about the situation, Marco nonetheless smiled, feeling a feeling he wasn't certain about. As colorful explosions of gunpowder began to fill the sky, he decided he was feeling satisfaction.
As always, stay amazing!