"So, uhm, you really… You saved the world from an evil goddess?" Dr. Samson asked, slowly recovering from his shock now that Khonshu had thankfully left them alone. Or maybe not – maybe he was just invisible. But Samson tried not to think about that.
"We did", Steven made proudly. "Well, Marc did most of the work, Jake and I were just… helping him to get there."
"And Arthur Harrow? What happened to him?" Samson asked curious. This wasn't even about helping Steven anymore - he was genuinely invested in his story by now. Though Steven was still insisting that this was all just 'context' for why he was actually here.
Steven smiled a bit at his question. "Have you ever seen 'Lord of the Rings'?"
XxX
Chapter 15 - Mount Doom
Marc grabbed his head with a small groan. Layla stopped from where she was walking in front of him, traveling up the mountain. She looked back to him and something in Marc's stance must've given away the switch.
"Jake's gone?" she asked, her tone careful.
Marc nodded. "Yeah. He's… taking a break."
Layla studied him for a moment but didn't press. She turned back to the path, and they continued their climb, moving with practiced precision.
"What happened?" Marc asked quietly.
"You don't know?" Layla asked without looking back at him.
"No, I… I can usually see what's happening when Steven's in control. Even if I'm just a fly on the wall. But with Jake? Nothing. It's just… blank", Marc admitted bitterly. "I couldn't see anything until five minutes ago."
From inside the mindscape, in the passenger seat, Jake scowled a little bit. Steven and Jake had been able to see each other fine most of the time. Steven hadn't even blacked out during the plane fight.
"Did you see me?" he whispered to Steven.
Steven nodded slowly. "Yeah, I was here ever since I switched to you. Marc wasn't though. He must've used another exit point from the mindscape. When he did appear, it was as if the windshield fogged over."
"Figures", Jake snorted. "Marc and his stupid guilt complex. You're a bloody gift-shopist and even you're fine with my work but he's getting all angsty."
Steven lifted his shoulders a bit. "It's not so horrible from here, it's a like watching a movie… You've got some cool moves, you know? Although it's not nice to see you getting shot at."
"You know I can hear you, right?!" Marc growled.
Steven ducked his head like an unruly school boy and Jake chuckled.
Turning back to his wife, he asked again between gritted teeth: "What happened?
Layla shrugged. "Harrow's men ambushed us. Nothing bad happened. Just a gunfight. You could've handled it on your own, probably. But Steven was really panicking. I guess he's more familiar with Jake and called him for help."
Jake chuckled at that, his grin widening. "Panicking? Come on, Steven, you didn't even try?"
Steven huffed, his expression defensive. "I didn't panic! I just—well, maybe a little." He crossed his arms. "And it's not like I did it on purpose. I didn't even realize I was calling for you. I was just… desperate."
"You hear that, Marc?" Jake said, still grinning. "Steven knows who the real hero is."
Marc didn't respond. His posture stiffened, his steps slowing slightly as Layla continued ahead of him. His silence stretched for an uncomfortable beat, the air between them heavy.
Layla noticed. She paused, turning back to face him. "Marc?" she asked, her tone cautious. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Marc muttered, his jaw tight. He started walking again, brushing past her.
"Don't do that," Layla said, catching his arm gently. "You can talk to me. You know that, right?"
Marc stopped, his head dipping for a moment before he straightened and looked at her. "I know, it's just… These two, they are..."
Layla frowned, searching his face. "Marc, I told you before—I'm not bothered by Jake or Steven. I meant that. I don't care that they're here."
"That's not it," Marc snapped, harsher than he intended. He clenched his fists, exhaling sharply to steady himself. "I… I have been trying to protect Steven from these parts of my life. I wanted to keep him away from all this. And now he's like – he's like a bait happily jumping right onto the hook! It's like he's not bothered by any of this at all and – and Jake's been killing who knows how many people behind my back, with my hands, and yet he's suddenly Steven's best friend!?"
Steven stared ahead, stunned. "Is he... jealous?!"
"Well he's got no fucking right to be!" Jake growled once he'd recovered from a similar shock. "He's been neglecting both of us for decades!"
"But... Isn't it good that they're friends, that they helped each other, held you up while you were... not there?" Layla asked confused.
Marc ground his teeth, not looking at Layla. "Of course it's good. I just... feel like I'm loosing control. Like I'm getting... pushed aside."
"I can't believe this pendejo", Jake cursed. "Pot, kettle?!"
"Shut up, Jake!" Marc growled. "I won't be insulted by a pervert oogling my wife!"
"I'm pretty sure she was oogling me too! What, you wanna forbid her from staring at our body next?!" Jake shouted back. "You won't get any action like that, I promise you!"
"Jake", Steven made, red faced. "Stop it."
Layla rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Marc, would you prefer your alters to be gay or wanting to start relationships with other women? Do you want to wake up one day, finding out Steven married a cute next door neighbor? Is that why you sent me those papers? You want to keep them away from me? Or did you want to force some imagined perfect life on Steven that it turns out might not even actually be what he prefers?"
Marc gaped at her and Jake started to chuckle.
"Maestra de Kung Fu strikes again. Look how she's got him on the mat!"
Steven groaned embarrassed and started to crawl into the backseat.
"I... That's not true", Marc defended himself. "Steven was always normal, Steven likes normal-"
"That's not the impression I got", Layla said. "He's a part of you, Marc. If I tried to imagine you in a normal job, working in some office..." She stopped, thought about it, then laughed. "Nope, can't do it. My head would sooner explode. Maybe Steven could pull it off, but enjoy it? Come on. Have you even met him?"
"His biggest dream is to travel the world, being a tour guide for museums and city tours and crap like that", Marc protested.
Layla nodded. "Yeah but that isn't the most ordinary job either, is it? It's actually quite adventurous for a normal person. I think you're underestimating him. And you do the same with Jake - he's more than just a fighter. Neither of them are likely to go away. It's in your best interest to see them as what they are, namely more specialized versions of yourself. There's no reason for you to be left out if you work together with them, the way they have been working with each other."
"I so get why you married that woman", Jake made, nodding along happily and wishing he had some popcorn. Maybe there was hope for that steamy foursome Jake had been fantasying about after all.
"I am trying to work with them", Marc claimed frustrated. "They're not making it easy."
"Keep trying", she told him with a smile. "You've been back what, 24h? If even that much, after weeks of absence. Give it time. It's a new situation for all of you. I'm sure you'll all find common ground to bond over if you only look a bit."
Jake could point out one very obvious common ground right now. But for once, he held back.
Marc sighed. "Maybe you're right... I just never thought it would come to this. I didn't even know Jake until yesterday and now it looks like I don't even know Steven. I... I have no idea what's going on in my own head. I used to but... I don't, anymore."
"Is that really all that surprising though?" Layla asked. "Think about it. Considering I never met them until now, it's safe to say they didn't come out often in the last few years. First Moon Knight, then us... You're not the same person you were five years ago. I've read that some alters remain the same, always, not even aging, but others develop alongside each other, wherever they're out or not. Yours are obviously developing with you. You changed. Therefore, they changed too. So naturally it will take you some time to get to know them again."
"Naturally", Marc made bitterly. "Nothing about this, about me... is natural."
Jake rolled his eyes. "Marc, stop it, or I'll throw Steven through the windshield."
"It is natural for you", Layla said. "However you came to be three, this is your normal now and it's okay. Those two care about you and about each other and that's what's most important. You could have twenty alters. You could have kid alters or female alters or alters that genuinely want to hurt you. But you don't. You only have two, they're grown and they're healthy and they care about and support you. It's not the end of the world. Yes, it's difficult. I will never know how difficult, I can hardly even imagine. I know 'it could be worse' isn't helping much. I just... I just want to let you know that it's not something that bothers me and I... I still love you. I'll help you where I can, if you let me. But I'm also stubborn enough to help Jake and Steven, if they ask for it and you don't. Because I care about you and I want all of you to be happy. "
Jake gave a little sigh, staring at Layla through the window with an almost dreamy gaze. "Hermano, if you dare to divorce that woman, I'll lock you up in the basement and keep her all to myself."
Marc might be going a little red. He still wouldn't meet Layla's gaze.
"You... You really feel that way... After all the shit I pulled?" he asked quietly.
Layla sighed and bridged the gap between them. She kissed Marc, not as passionately as she'd kissed Jake and not the shy brush of lips she'd shared with Steven. It was the kiss of a couple that had done this a thousand times, to the point where entire messages could be exchanged mouth to mouth, messages that held much more details than just love or lust.
This kiss started with a 'Shut up you're asking stupid questions again', then turned more tender and soft. 'Of course I still love you, you big dummy.' Then Marc deepened the kiss, leaning into her, pulling her towards him with one hand in her neck. His own way of replying back with a dept of emotion that held a hundred love confessions the way only Steven's French poets could put into words. Layla pulled back, opening her eyes back up and gave him one last peck, as if to ask: 'All good now?'
And Marc gave a little smile, looking down and then just for a moment, looking into her beautiful eyes. He drew her in for one last lingering kiss, the kind that said 'I'm terrified of loosing you but I am a bit reassured now that won't happen.'
Jake was practically glued to the windshield, so close he could feel Layla's lips on his own, feather light where he knew them to be firm and soft, but still. He could feel an echo of the love she had for his alter and even that, even just that echo made him melt inside.
"Come on, honey. Let's destroy that stupid scarab and save the world, huh?" Layla made, gently cupping Marc's cheek before she drew away from him.
Jake sighed and sat back down. He guessed he could leave the final victory to Marc.
XxX
Marc and Layla kept moving cautiously up the final rocky incline to the peak of Mount Etna. The jagged edges of the volcano framed the molten glow of lava that bubbled ominously below. Jake could feel the heat even from this distance, or at least his mind made it feel that way.
Steven shifted nervously in the backseat, leaning forward to try and get a better view yet unwilling to climb up next to Jake. "What's happening now?" he asked.
Jake didn't turn around. "Layla just handed Marc the scarab. Looks like she wants him to finish this."
Steven frowned, his voice tight with worry. "She's not going with him?"
"She's staying back. Smart move since she's run out of ammunition." Jake's gaze darkened as he watched Marc step forward, closer to Harrow and the three remaining cultists. "Marc better not screw this up."
Through the windshield, the fight erupted suddenly. One of the cultists raised a rifle, and Marc summoned his Moon Knight armor in a flash of silvery-white light, his golden crescent blades gleaming as he deflected the gunfire with precision. He darted forward, taking out one of the cultists with a brutal throw of his blade, which knocked the rifle from their hands before striking them hard in the head. They crumpled to the ground.
Harrow stepped forward, raising the cane, the violet energy crackling menacingly. "Marc Spector," Harrow called out, his voice amplified by the eerie, supernatural energy of his power. "You've spent your life as one of humanity's most prolific killers. How many lives have you destroyed under Khonshu's so-called guidance?"
Jake's jaw clenched, but he said nothing, watching as Marc ignored Harrow's taunts and pressed on. He threw another crescent blade, this time slicing through a cultist's weapon. The man scrambled to draw a sidearm, but Marc was faster, closing the distance and incapacitating him with a powerful strike.
The remaining cultist fired at Marc, forcing him to take cover behind a jagged boulder.
Harrow's mocking laughter echoed across the peak. "You're deluding yourself, Marc. You think this will atone for the lives you've taken? You think you can prevent Ammit's rise and redeem yourself?"
Marc emerged from cover, his movements swift and precise. Another blade left his hand, this time embedding itself in the shooter's shoulder. The man cried out, dropping his weapon as he staggered backward.
"Marc's good," Jake murmured, almost begrudgingly.
Steven leaned closer, his face pale. "But Harrow's still standing, isn't he?"
Jake nodded grimly. Harrow stood at the edge of the crater, the cane glowing ominously in his hand. Marc sprinted toward him, the scarab still in his grip. Harrow swung the cane, releasing a blast of violet energy that exploded into the ground near Marc's feet. The shockwave sent him sprawling, dangerously close to the edge of the crater.
"Careful, hermano," Jake muttered, gripping the sides of his seat as though he could will Marc to safety.
Marc scrambled to his feet, barely dodging another blast from Harrow's cane. The two clashed at the crater's edge, the lava bubbling below them like a malevolent force waiting to claim its next victim. Marc swung his crescent blades, forcing Harrow to block with the cane. The golden and violet energies clashed in a shower of sparks, lighting up the scene with supernatural fury.
Harrow's voice was a venomous hiss. "You think you're a hero, Marc? You're nothing but a murderer. You should've been judged and cast into oblivion long ago."
Marc gritted his teeth, pushing back against Harrow with all his strength. "Maybe I deserve judgment. But not from you. Not from Ammit."
Their struggle teetered on the brink of the crater, the heat from the lava scorching the air around them. Harrow's strength began to waver, and for a moment, it seemed Marc would overpower him. But then a shout cut through the chaos.
"Marc!"
Marc froze, his gaze snapping toward the source of the voice. Layla was struggling against the grip of the last cultist, who held her tightly with a knife pressed to her throat.
"Drop the scarab!" the cultist demanded, his voice trembling but resolute. "Drop it, or she dies!"
Jake felt his blood boil as he watched Marc hesitate, the scarab still in his hand, inches away from the bubbling lava. "Don't you dare," Jake growled under his breath.
Steven's voice was a whisper, full of dread. "Oh, no… Layla…"
Marc's hesitation proved costly. As he stood frozen, torn between saving Layla and fulfilling Khonshu's mission, Harrow seized the opportunity. The violet energy of his cane flared menacingly, and with a bellow, Harrow unleashed a blast directly at Marc's chest.
The impact hit Marc like a freight train, sending him hurtling backward. He landed hard on the rocky ground, rolling to a stop near the base of the crater. His Moon Knight armor absorbed much of the blow, but the searing heat of the energy left a dark burn mark across his chest.
"Marc!" Layla's voice broke through his dazed state.
Before her captor could react, Layla stomped hard on his foot and drove her head back into his nose with a brutal headbutt. The man cried out, clutching his face as blood poured between his fingers. Layla broke free and bolted toward Marc.
Marc groaned, struggling to sit up as the burn mark on his chest began to fade, the armor already working to heal his injuries. Layla dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering near his shoulders.
"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly.
Before he could answer, a sharp wind whipped through the mountaintop, carrying with it the voice of Khonshu. The god's skeletal form loomed above them, his beak-like head tilted in disdain.
"Spector! There is no time for weakness. Finish this!" Khonshu bellowed.
Marc pushed himself to his feet, clutching at his side. But as his eyes darted around the ground, panic set in—the scarab was gone.
A dark laugh drew his gaze back toward Harrow, who stood several feet away, clutching the scarab triumphantly in his hand. "You've failed, Marc," Harrow declared, his voice rich with mockery. "Ammit will rise."
"No!" Marc shouted, summoning his crescent blades as he lunged toward Harrow.
The fight reignited with deadly ferocity. Harrow swung the cane, unleashing another beam of violet energy that Marc narrowly avoided by rolling to the side, though half his cape got obliterated. Then the blast struck the ground, causing a fiery explosion that sent shards of rock flying.
Marc was on his feet in an instant, charging at Harrow with unrelenting speed. Harrow snarled, lifting the cane to fire again. Marc saw the glow building at the tip and threw himself to the side mid-run. The beam shot past him, missing by inches, but struck the ground behind him with a deafening crack.
The earth groaned ominously, chunks of rock shifting underfoot as the mountain itself seemed to recoil from the blast. Marc shouted over the chaos, "Layla! Run!"
Layla, standing near the unstable edge, hesitated for only a heartbeat before sprinting toward safer ground. The trembling ground beneath her feet began to crack and shift, but she kept moving, glancing back at Marc with wide, terrified eyes.
Meanwhile, Harrow raised the cane again, his face a mask of fanatical rage. "You cannot stop her return!" he roared, aiming another blast directly at Marc.
Before he could fire, Marc surged forward, tackling Harrow around the waist. The energy blast went wide, exploding harmlessly against a distant boulder as the two men crashed to the ground. Marc grappled with Harrow, forcing him down onto his back at the very edge of the glowing crater.
With a furious growl, Marc pinned Harrow beneath him, driving his fists into the man's face. Harrow grunted in pain but twisted beneath Marc's weight, struggling to keep hold of the cane. Marc grabbed one of his crescent blades and, with a savage thrust, drove it into Harrow's arm. Harrow screamed, his grip on the cane faltering.
The scarab slipped from Harrow's grasp, clattering to the ground.
Marc snatched it up triumphantly, holding it aloft as if it were already over. "You lose, Harrow," he spat, his voice cold with finality.
But Harrow wasn't finished. With a desperate surge of strength, he drove his knee into Marc's stomach, sending him reeling backward. Marc staggered, the scarab still clutched in his hand.
Harrow scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in a mix of pain and madness. He swung the cane wildly, unleashing another blast. Marc barely had time to dodge, the energy scorching past his shoulder and striking the ground just behind him.
The explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the peak. The ground beneath Marc's feet trembled violently, cracks spidering out from the impact site. Before he could react, the fragile edge gave way underneath him.
Marc felt the earth vanish under his boots, the sickening sensation of weightlessness taking hold. Time seemed to slow as he saw the scarab tumble from his hand, spinning in the air as he fell, just as Harrow did a few feet next to him. His arms flailed, desperate for purchase, but there was nothing—only the red glow of the bubbling lava below. He tried to flare his cape, the burned edges of which were slowly, too slowly reforming from the damage Harrow's cane energy blasts had done to it.
Inside the mindscape, Jake jolted forward in his seat, his hands slamming against the dashboard as though he could stop the fall. "¡No! Marc, hang on!" he roared, but it was futile. Through the windshield, he saw Marc's perspective—the world spinning, the fiery pit rushing up to meet him.
In the backseat, Steven clutched the headrest in front of him, his knuckles white. "What's happening? He's falling—he's falling, Jake! We're falling!" His voice was high with panic, cracking on the last word.
Outside, the heat rose in waves, distorting the air as the lava boiled below. Marc had managed to grab onto a ledge, holding on with one hand but the stone was already breaking. Below Harrow gave one final scream before he was swallowed by the fire. The groaning rock around them was deafening, swallowing all sound except for one:
"NO!" Khonshu's voice boomed like thunder, his skeletal form materializing above the crater. His avian skull gleamed in the red glow, his staff in hand as he hovered over the edge. The god's elongated frame reached out toward Marc, even though he could do nothing, incorporeal as he was, to help them. "Marc! Hold on!"
Jake froze, his heart pounding as he watched Khonshu's anguish. The god who had always been cold, calculating and cruel was now a figure of raw desperation, his voice breaking in ways Jake didn't think possible.
Steven's breath hitched. "Khonshu…" he whispered, his panic momentarily overtaken by the sight of the god's fear.
But Khonshu's cries were ultimately lost to the roar of the volcano. The heat intensified, the edge of their burned cape had caught fire, flames crawling up to their back and Marc's fingers around the crumbling ledge slipped. Jake felt it even in the mindscape, beads of sweat forming on his brow as though the flames were reaching into their shared consciousness. He gripped the edge of his seat, his teeth grinding as he stared through the windshield.
"Marc!" Layla's scream cut through the chaos, sharp and anguished as she stood frozen at the edge of the crater, her eyes locked on his struggling form. Her hands were outstretched, trembling as though she could pull him back by sheer will alone but she was far, far too far away.
"Layla", he whispered, his eyes wide and terrified as he stared up at her.
The tiny ledge broke away under Marc's fingers. He twisted in freefall, his face turned toward the molten abyss. He could only just make out the tiny golden shape of the scarab slowly sinking into the lava, taking much more time to melt than an ordinary gold piece had any right to. The light of the lava reflected in his wide, horrified eyes.
The windshield blurred with the overwhelming glow of the lava. Khonshu's form flickered above the crater, his outstretched hand the last image visible before the searing heat consumed everything.
Inside the car, the light was blinding, forcing Jake and Steven to shield their eyes. The heat swelled, suffocating, and then—darkness.
