All original characters, dialog and situations used from Star vs The Forces of Evil and Moon Knight are © The Walt Disney Company.
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
All original characters, dialog and situations used from fanfics are © by their respective authors.
IX
Following on rooftops, Star stalked her quarry. It was deep night, around 3 a.m.; the night was dark, the moon rising above the horizon no more than a white crescent, its phase and altitude giving scant illumination.
Star had gained control several hours prior, as Marco's mind drifted into sleep, freeing his grip on their shared body. It was a strange situation, and not just because she was a mewman woman sharing a terran man's body. Her memories were a mess, not just of her old life, but of her new one as well. She knew from talking to Marco, and Marco speaking with Jackie, that they had done things that they could remember only scraps of, if they remembered them at all. She wondered if they would remember this night.
Star came to a gap between the building she was on and the next in line, the two divided by a narrow street. She paused at the edge of the roof, waiting for the man and teenage girl he was leading to be sufficiently past the road into an alley; she did not want to be caught in their peripheral visions as she leapt the divide. Once she was satisfied they would not see her, she backed up several feet, then ran forward, connecting herself to the magic as she pushed off the top of the parapet. She rose high in the air, tracing a parabolic arc that carried her onto the roof of the next building. She rolled as soon as her feet touched the surface, dissipating the energy horizontally, both to lessen the noise of the landing and to reduce the chance of crashing through the roof and into the building below.
As she allowed herself a moment's respite, Star reveled in the body's coverings, what she thought of as her suit of armor, one of the few things she remembered clearly from each adventure. For protection and anonymity, she had conjured the soft shell, taking the form of the wrappings in which her people swaddled their dead before laying them to rest in their pyramidal tombs. Unlike those wrappings of preservative-soaked linens, to preserve the body underneath these were "soaked" with magic, making them impervious to nearly everything, including all but the most powerful of this dimension's ballistic weapons.
Star looked at her hands, examining the deep red, almost black, color of their wrappings. She had considered full black when contemplating her color choice, but her belief that the Blood Moon of myth was responsible for her current situation greatly influenced her decision. Another influence on both the color and design had been Marco's penchant for red hoodies. Initially the suit included an actual red hoodie, but after seeing herself reflected in a window she changed to a cape and hood like those in the superhero comics that made their way onto Mewni. It made for a much cooler look, she thought. The change was made despite a scene from some movie flitting about in her fractured consciousness, of a small woman exclaiming, "No capes!" She was certain Marco would nonetheless approve of her choices ... once she stopped hiding them from him.
Star chuckled to herself. She still referred to their common body as "hers" when in control and thinking in first person, even though the dangly bits between the body's legs made it quite clear it was actually "his." She felt herself warm up, despite the magical wrappings regulating the body's temperature to prevent overheating while wearing them; she looked forward to seeing those nicely shaped and well-proportioned bits in the mirror whenever she could.
Thinking about nether regions brought Star's mind back to why she was there.
The night had started like the others that had ended in mayhem, with Star simply walking out of Marco's house and into the streets. She wasn't certain why; she knew she wouldn't learn much in the pitch dark of night, but she couldn't fight the compulsion to find ... something. She did not know why she had been on Earth, in that spot, when she died, or what led up to it, but felt there was a memory just tantalizingly out of reach. She, or whomever killed her, or both, might have been searching for some artifact, and so, she searched still.
Star wandered around for several hours until she found herself in a business district comprised of close-built, mostly one- to three-story buildings. She spied a set of stairs that zig-zagged up the side of a rare four-story building to its roof; she quickly climbed them, hoping to get a better view of the area. Once on the roof she walked to the other side, overlooking a main thoroughfare, but before she could scout, her attention was drawn to a commotion.
A man was roughly pulling a very young woman, possibly even an early teen, from where she had been hiding in an entryway shadowed from the streetlights. Star could not understand what was said between them, but she understood sobbing when she heard it, and there was no mistaking the cuff that knocked the girl to the ground. The man then harshly yanked the girl to her feet, held her by the wrist, then dragged her into the alleyway where Star had found the stairs.
Star was seething with anger, but something caused her to pull up before she leapt from the roof with intent to do great harm. She wasn't certain why; she thought she might have heard a news story about missing young women, during a lucid moment while Marco was awake. She had a vague notion it might have been about sex-slaves; why that should catch her attention, and anger her so, she did not know.
Despite all the movies she watched, Star struggled to identify the geographical origins of the various terran phenotypes. On Mewni, there was insufficient environmental diversity, nor was there enough geographic isolation, to produce drastically different phenotypes during mewman evolution. Most mewmans looked like the caucasians of the northern areas of Earth; what phenotypic diversity did exist was due to crossbreeding with terrans.
The man's characteristics were similar to Marco's and half the terrans Star saw in the Echo Creek and Los Angeles area. The girl looked similar to the birthday girl in that one photo on Marco's wall. The photo also contained a third phenotype, in the form of the one girl that enraged Star on sight, although she still could not dredge up why it should make her so angry.
Star had no idea whether any of those various characteristics mattered at all to the situation she was observing. She simply took note of them to help her reacquire her targets, should she lose direct sight of the two terrans. She then concentrated, conjured her armor, and followed.
It didn't take long for the pair to reach their destination, although, despite the shortness of the journey, Star was winded due to parkouring from rooftop to rooftop; the brief rest admiring her armor hadn't helped much. The man dragged the girl through a door on the building opposite the one on whose roof Star now stood. The building was of the same construction as the others, but Star noted all the windows were fully covered from the inside. Light escaped from the rare gap between coverings and frames. Behind the building were multiple shipping containers, camouflaged so that they could not be recognized from the ground in the unlikely event someone should look in their direction.
It was seeing the shipping containers that made it all click. Star had heard a news story, about a ring trafficking women and teens for the sex-slave trade. The Echo Creek police had raided a building containing a secret waystation and brothel, with shipping containers outside where the victims were imprisoned, a brutal existence made more brutal by the southern-California environment. The compound was thought to be one of several in the Los Angeles area, although the police did not know whether any more were in Echo Creek. Clearly, there was at least one more.
Star's emotional state switched from seething to rage. She wished she had full access to her magicks ... all she could do was summon the armor and enhance the body's natural characteristics, like strength. She wished she could magick up invulnerability; although the wrappings could not be mechanically pierced in most cases, the energy of stab, punch or projectile was not completely dissipated, thus could injure the body with blunt force trauma. Luckily, magic did quicken the healing afterwards.
Star idly stroked the crescent moon she had stylistically placed on her chest, as she considered how she would attack. After seeing Marco idly play with some star-shaped throwing weapons, Star figured out how to conjure their analog from the metal symbol. She could even use them as cutting weapons, like knives, not just as projectiles. Star thought it ironic that a being named Star, with a mother named Moon she had trouble remembering, eschewed a star-shaped weapon for a moon-shaped one.
But all those abilities and weapons weren't enough. Star had no ability to portal. She could not fly, which wasn't something she did on Mewni but she thought a superhero should; at least her jumping ability was enhanced. She could not conjure any of her powerful magical weapons, including the straight-up laser-like beams of magic used when she just wanted to blow something up. She thought that a terran ballistic weapon might be a useful substitute, but for reasons she didn't understand, given their ubiquitous presence in movies, they were problematic in this area.
With so few choices, Star quickly decided that her method of attack would be the same as in her vague memories, fists and feet applied with extreme prejudice. If a weapon was needed she would use whatever was around that she could pick up and throw or use as a club; she would use her shuriken only if absolutely necessary.
Star looked over the parapet, inspecting the side of the building she was on. There were no stairs here, but there were enough windows with sills that she believed she could climb down using them as handholds. She jumped over the short barrier, quietly and carefully as she could, dropping to the closest window. She then descended, swinging from window to window.
As Star dropped to the ground, a man exited the target building. She crouched slightly, in a fighting stance. It took several seconds for the man's vision to adjust to the darkness. Seeing the crouching figure, he called, "Oye hombre, ¿qué se supone que eres, un superhéroe?" Receiving no reply, he switched to English, asking, "Hey man, what are you supposed to be, a superhero?"
Moons over the cheeks of Star's facemask began to glow. She summoned the deepest voice she could from Marco's body, responding, "I am the protector of innocents in the night. I am the fist of vengeance that smites those who do them harm. I ... am death!"
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Marco yawned as he filled a coffee pot to brew up some coffee. He looked out the window; it was going to be another typical, scorchingly hot, August day in southern California. The kitchen television was tuned to a news program, although Marco wasn't paying much attention to it.
The pot having filled, Marco moved toward the Señor Café machine. Once again, he had awoken just as tired as if he had not slept at all, and his arms and legs ached as if he had just endured a particularly grueling day of physical training in officer candidate school. Marco gingerly poured the water into the top of the coffee machine, then placed the pot on the warmer, his sore and lightly bruised knuckles tweaked by the motions.
What the hell is going on? Marco asked himself, flexing his fingers after starting the brew cycle.
'Fuck if I know.'
Hello imaginary friend in my crazy-brain, haven't heard much from you in the past month.
'Maybe you've just been boring. You haven't done much toward solving our case.'
Our parents' lives have ended, but mine and Jackie's go on. That means fulfilling those adult obligations we all have.
'They're easier to ignore than you think; I should know.'
Deciding to not go there, Marco thought, When breakfast is over, I should invite Jackie over, go over what we've read over the past month, and maybe go over some more plans.
'Lots of "overs" there, doofus.'
As Marco reached into the pantry for his box of "Captain Blanche's Frosted Seeds," a news item on the television caught his ear. He grabbed the milk from the fridge, then sat at the kitchen table, pouring himself a bowl, dousing it with milk, then digging in.
While Marco ate, he watched the news report. It was another story about a sex-trafficking den, this one found early that morning after the police received an anonymous tip.
That seems familiar, Marco mused.
'To me, too.'
An image of shipping containers flashed in Marco's brain, like a sudden memory. They were eerily similar to what was being shown on the television.
That was weird. Marco had the sensation of a metaphorical door closing in his mind, like a memory was being hidden or excised. That was even weirder.
'Don't worry about it.'
The reporter on the television related, "When police arrived, they found five men unconscious and tied up. They were taken to School University Hospital to be treated for injuries, several life-threatening. Speaking on the condition of anonymity, an official with the Echo Creek Police Department stated it appeared to be the work of a vigilante."
The closed portion of Marco's brain suddenly reopened, flashing a scene of a scarlet-clad fist smashing a man's nose, then administering three punches to the man's ribcage in quick succession, each accompanied by the sound of cracking bone.
"The vigilante was described by a witness as a man, between five-and-a-half to six feet tall, wrapped in a red material from head to foot, with a hood and cape over it, like a crimson mummy wearing a large red hoodie."
Marco spewed a mouthful of cereal across the kitchen, as his spoon clattered to the floor.
Star? Star? There was no response. Marco glanced at the clock; although the lengths of time where she talked to him after waking had been growing, they still weren't very long. That time had passed.
Marco looked at his hands, examining the bruising on his knuckles that had already almost completely faded away. He had another flash, this one of looking at his hands, examining the deep red, almost black, color of their wrappings, on what appeared to be a roof, at night.
From the television, he heard, "This is yet another report of a red-clad vigilante, bringing the number of sightings to well over a dozen. Chat groups on the internet dedicated to the mysterious figure are referring to him as The Scarlet Scarab."
Marco shook his head to clear his mind, as he thought, Nah, not a chance. Things have been a little weird, maybe even a little wild ... but not that much. Marco pondered for a few seconds, his mind returning to his beating on the grounds of School University. It can't be me, I'm one of the people he's saved. But despite the dismissal, in the back of his mind his thoughts were still disquieted.
Moving on, Marco cleaned up the mess of his spit-take, finished making his coffee drink, then texted Jackie.
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Late in the afternoon, Marco and Jackie lay on the floor of the bullpen, stiff and hungry; Marco was fighting like hell to keep from falling asleep.
"There's a lot here," Marco stated, "but I just can't see how it all ties together. There's clearly something in the runes and the strange symbol being found all over the world, and they must relate to the murders, but how?"
"I dunno," Jackie replied, "but they must. Maybe." She sighed. "We have to be patient. We still have years of research to go through. We have to think there's some tidbit we just haven't encountered yet."
"The field notes are unremarkable. A lot of the writings have been published, and what hasn't been published are also unremarkable. They don't seem to be hiding any secrets." Marco thumped his closed hand onto the floor, causing Jackie to jump. "Sorry. I'd bet my left two lug nuts everything we need is on the encrypted drives, and we're no closer to decrypting them."
"Maybe we should visit some of those sites ourselves. Unless we can break the encryption, it might be our only way to find any hidden information."
"Yeah, maybe. There're probably a few sites that aren't currently under investigation, but the reason they aren't is probably because they've already given up everything they can. We could contact a few of mom's and dad's colleagues or ex-grad-students to get permission to visit sites being worked, but it'd be better if we could contact someone we personally know." A slight catch in his voice, Marco continued, "Everyone that fit that criterion for me died with my parents, except for Doctor Donna, and I really don't want to talk to her unless I have to."
Jackie wracked her brain for a couple seconds. "I knew a girl in college who was an archaeology student, a French girl who introduced me to Chloe. In fact, I think Angie met her parents during Angie's French Summer, and that's why she came to L.A.; what a small damn world. I've lost touch with her since I returned from my own French Summer, but I bet she'd still be willing to help. Isabelle Kristel, was her name."
"Hm," Marco responded, as he stroked his chin. "I met a man in the French army when a case took me to Europe a few years ago. I'd swear he said he was engaged to an Isabelle Kristel. Wonder if it's the same woman?"
"Like I said, small damn world."
"Small damn world, indeed."
Jackie rolled onto her side, facing Marco. "Let's call it a day. Want to do something fun tomorrow?"
"I'd love to, but I have an appointment with Doctor North. It's a long drive so it burns the entire day. I'd like to move to telehealth sessions with her, but she insists we continue with the hypnosis until I actually remember what is talked about while under." Marco chuckled. "She said if that doesn't happen soon, she'll be convinced I need an exorcism, not psychotherapy."
Marco swore he heard a faint raspberry being blown.
"Yeah, come to think of it," Jackie said, "I need to make an appointment to see my therapist."
"I didn't know you're seeing a therapist."
"Sorry, I wasn't really hiding that from you, but I didn't think we'd rekindled our friendship enough yet to volunteer it. I guess, without realizing it, we've now passed that point."
"You may guess whatever you like."
Jackie slugged Marco good naturedly on the shoulder.
"I have to admit I'm a little surprised," Marco said, lightly.
"Dude! You think you're the only one with stuff to deal with? Granted, my parents' deaths weren't murders, I wasn't nearly murdered myself, and I don't have a voice in my head that isn't mine, but I do have some things to work out, including 'hearing' the same voice you're hearing."
"What?"
"Have you forgotten the times that I've watched you talking to your other personality? That I actually talked to that personality in South Dakota? I don't think you understand just how creepy and disturbing that is, and how much it can bother a person; hell, it's even given me a few nightmares. I've ... needed a little help dealing with it, and to seek advice on how to help you."
"You don't have to do that, Jackie."
"I know, but I promised I would, and I plan on keeping that promise ... not just out of a sense of obligation, but because I want to."
Jackie kissed Marco on the temple, rose, then headed out the door.
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
"Dead, your majesty."
Lack of comprehension. Silence.
"Your majesty!"
Lack of comprehension. Silence.
"Wake up, you stupid cunt!"
Queen Star jumped, as though jolted by french-kissing a light socket again. Though whispered, the voice hit her hard, the anger and malevolence palpable. Two years into her reign, she was already regarded with suspicion and disdain; many accused her of regicide, ironic given it was her focus on finding her parents' murderers that drew a significant amount of her attention away from her kingdom and people. So, Star expected an attitude from her subjects, but not such obscene insubordination right to her, and from her sister at that.
Star glanced sidelong at Meteora. To anyone else Meteora's face showed a neutral cast, but she knew her sister better than that. Since her cornonation, Meteora had pulled back, become distant, and was angry at her more often than not; she had no idea why.
"I'm sorry, minister," Star said, contritely, "please continue."
Star's Minister of Justice gave a slight sniff ... arrogant prick, Star thought ... then repeated, "The girl is dead, your majesty. Before she died, she indicated there were some ... unpleasant goings-on at a place of business in the village. We have been able to find no more corroboration than rumors, and I come to you for a special warrant to investigate the premises. The district judge is ... reluctant."
Sounds like he's on the payroll, Star thought, but out loud inquired, "Why don't you just walk up and ask the owner if you could come in?"
The minister blinked, then said, "And if he refuses? He is then warned of our interest."
To everyone's surprise, Star leapt up. Meteora stood as well, as Star's ministers bowed briefly. Star addressed the soldier standing his post close to the throne, stating, "Captain, we're going to visit this place; call up as many of the Queen's Guard as you see fit as a protection detail. Ministers, bring yourselves and whomever else you need, but I don't want a huge crowd. No more than twenty, including the Guards, myself, and Princess Meteora."
The going was a bit slow, as Star forced everybody to walk from the castle into Castle Village rather than ride, but the group finally approached the business in question. It was in a building of the same type of construction as the others around it. Typically, businesses liked to stand out, but this one was nondescript and unadvertised, with no marquees or even placards. The windows were closed and covered, which could only make the rooms inside suspiciously hot and dark.
While the royal party was still a short distance from the building but in plain sight of the front door, a man opened it and exited. Catching sight of the company of soldiers and government officials, the man did a double take.
Recovering and noticing Star dozens of feet in front of the rest, except for two flanking Guards, in a scoffing tone the man called, "Hey, bitch, what are you supposed to be, the queen?" As he slowly recognized several more people in the entourage, and that the weapons carried by the soldiers were real, it dawned on him that he was facing the actual queen.
The man bowed deeply, then said, "My apologies, your majesty, for not recognizing you sooner. Please forgive me and my aging eyesight."
Star did not fail to notice that, as he spoke, the man closed the door. She also noted he was dressed plainly, attempting to not stand out, but she could see his wealth in the lack of wear on the clothes, the unblemished exposed skin, his kempt hair, and his overall cleanliness. She immediately pegged him as the businessman they wished to talk to. Star had stopped when the man spoke, and as the rest of her escort caught up, without taking her eyes off the man, Star flatly said, "Minister of Justice?"
"Yes, milady. Sir, we have received word that you run a house of ill repute, in direct contravention of Her Majesty's Code of Laws. Worse, this house is alleged to use mewmans of a young age, against their will, in defiance of The Law and common mewman decency."
The businessman puffed out his chest and raised his chin, putting on airs of affront. He growled, "I reject such scurrilous accusations. I am simply a hardworking businessman, plying a trade that appeals to customers of all ages."
A scream drew everyone's attention to the establishment. There was a loud thump, then the door was flung open, and a girl, no more than thirteen, ran naked from the premises, pursued by a woman with her expensive-looking frock hiked up. The girl saw the queen and her escort, then ran toward them with all her might. The woman, seeing not only the queen's party but her well-armed Guards, quickly pushed down her dress and ran across the front of the building into an alleyway, beating as hasty a retreat as possible in the opposite direction.
The Queen's Guard stepped in front of Star, crossing their pikes, blocking the girl's path to the queen. Star didn't like it, but understood. Rather than embarrass the Guards by rebuking them or by calling the girl to her, she instead caught the girl's eyes then pointed at her sister. The girl ran to Meteora, falling to her knees and grabbing Meteora's legs for protection. A man, one of the locals who had gathered to watch, rushed over to cover the girl as much as possible with his tunic, then stepped back at a Guard's directive.
The businessman shrugged. "Harsh discipline of a daughter by her mother, nothing more."
Star caught the eye of a Guard, then grabbed her own wrist. As the Guard restrained the businessman as ordered, Star walked past them, another Guard following, then entered the building. For several minutes, boys and girls from around ten to around seventeen years old, in various states of undress, several covered by nothing more than a blanket, left the building and ran away. If there had been any adults in the building, security guards or otherwise, they had fled by means other than the front door.
Finally, Star's bodyguard stepped out of the establishment, then Star stood in the entranceway. She pointed at the businessman, slapped the heels of her hands together, next pointed at her mouth, then pointed over her shoulder. One Guard put restraints on the struggling man's wrists, while another gagged him. They then bodily dragged him to the den of iniquity; he was terrified, comprehending that the most powerful magical queen in the history of Mewni was so enraged she could not speak. Star stood aside as the Guards threw him across the threshold, then took up positions flanking the doorway, one inside and one out. The door slammed shut.
Several minutes later, Star and her bodyguard exited the building, closing the door behind them. She turned, walking stiffly back toward the castle. Her Guards and retinue fell in behind her. Not a word was spoken.
Meteora stayed behind, ushering the girl she was protecting to the man who had proffered his tunic. He cooed to the girl as he led her toward a residence, one with several well fed, and obviously well cared for, children patiently watching what had unfolded.
Once the girl was inside, Meteora paused, turning to look curiously at the business and its shut door, as if debating whether to see if Star had meted out appropriate justice. Coming to her decision she turned, then she, and the Guard who had stayed with her, walked briskly toward the royal party now well down the street.
After several days, Meteora visited the man and girl to check on their welfare, learning what had happened soon after the incident. A small throng of people, who had known what was going on there but felt helpless to stop it, gathered in front of the business. Several had witnessed the confrontation, then told the others, and they were curious about what had gone on inside. Finally, a woman plucked up the courage to go in. From outside, through the open door, the rest watched as she looked around, then down, then snapped her gaze up to the ceiling ... then shrieked.
The woman ran from the building, her shoes leaving bloody footprints behind.
And she screamed ... and screamed ... and screamed ...
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Marco blinked as he came out of his hypnotic state. He looked at Doctor North, noting her eyes were swimming in tears.
"What do you remember?" Trudy asked.
Marco paused, then responded, "Nothing."
Trudy repeated the story Star had told through Marco; it was a fractured tale, which Trudy believed contained gaps, as if parts of an actual occurrence had been left out. She then made a few additional notes, finally saying, in a musing tone, "This narrative was different ... it was told from the viewpoint of having experienced it, like the others, except for what happened inside the brothel; that was told as if being an observer standing outside. Why do you suppose that might be?"
Marco shrugged, "Not a clue."
"The woman was described as looking inside the building and then running away screaming, suggesting something horrific. The society you've described during our sessions is medieval, violent ... yet she was shocked to the point of fleeing in panic. But you can provide no description of what you did, or rather Charlie did." Trudy paused to think, then continued, "You still don't have clear memories of what happened to your parents and their field crew, it's probably not a coincidence."
Doctor North checked her notes. "Then there's this new, unnamed, character, the one with the faint clovers on her checks, like Charlie's hearts. What is her significance, I wonder?"
Later, Marco sat in his car, unmoving, staring out the windshield. After a few minutes he refocused his eyes onto the reflections the glass held, his own and, seemingly from the back seat, Star's. Speaking to the reflection as if Star was actually there, he asked, "Star, can you talk to me?"
'Yes,' the vision answered.
"Why would I imagine something like that?"
'Who says you imagined it?'
"Come on," Marco replied, a bit testily, "of course it's imagined, just like you." Star did not reply. After a few long moments, he added, "Even so ... this time, I remember everything I saw while hypmotized."
'So do I.' A slight pause. 'Why did you lie to the sorceress?'
"I don't know. Why didn't you ... we ... remember ... I mean, imagine ... what happened inside that house of horrors?"
'I don't know.'
"And who's the woman with the clover tattoos? She seems familiar, like I've seen her in dreams."
A long pause from Star, and again Marco felt the sensation of something in his mind going missing. Star finally responded, 'I don't know.' Another slight pause. 'What does it all mean?'
Marco himself paused, looked the apparition in the eyes, then replied, "I don't know."
As always, stay amazing!
So the tradition of a release at Xmas continues. Sorry for the less than jolly subject matter, but that's how the sugar cookie crumbles sometimes.
Gotta admit ... while proofing this, every time I read Blood Moon Knight's threat to the trafficker, I could not keep myself from thinking, "I am the protector of innocents in the night. I am the fist of vengeance that smites those who do them harm. I ... am Darkwing Duck!"