The Imagination Latibule: Moon Knight - The Rise of the Moon

Chapter 21

Steven and Marc ran at Harrow, moving with an otherworldly grace, a silent guardian of the night here to save everyone. Lost in a blur of Steven and Marc, Moon Knight and Mr Knight as you'd dubbed him, one took over from the other as their skillsets required, and if it weren't for the changing suit you would've sworn they were one and the same. Steven slid over the roof of a car, kicking one of Ammit's followers round the face with his boot as he landed. He looked at you with a grin and you smiled back. But you cried out, pointing behind him as someone took a swing with a bat, sending him to the floor. You winced. That had to hurt. 

"All right, you know what? I think you can take this one, Marc," Steven wheezed, and suddenly Marc was fronting again, flying up into the air, and --

"--Oi!" There was a yell and you swung round to see a gang of men on the approach, wielding car pipes and tyre irons and the like. You shook your head at Ammit's hypocrisy. There she was, killing people who would perhaps do something wrong 50 years from now, whilst she allowed her followers to kill anyone who stood in her way without punishment. 

You could feel Taweret in the back of your head, guiding you as you ran towards them. You had some strange muscle memory, a recollection of how to fight that you assumed was hers, and attacked the men with millennia old instinct, dodging punches and returning with a dangerous precision that had them all on the floor within a minute. 

You turned back to Marc, the cape of his suit billowing as he stared down Harrow. Both of them had taken a beating, and Harrow was holding himself up with his cane as he spoke. "Had Ammit been allowed to rule, young Randall's life would've been saved," he said, his words causing Marc to falter. "Your family would've been happy." 

"Don't listen to him Marc," you heard Steven say as he shook his head weakly. You looked at the reflection, and Steven had paled, the colour draining from his face as he stared at Marc. You figured they had to have some deeper link that you couldn't hear, and the look on his face was one of pleading and fear and worry.

"Marc?" you whispered. "Who's Randall?" He looked at you with tears in his eyes and stuttered some inaudible sentence that boldened Harrow. 

"Ammit need only remove one weed from the garden," he said, and then suddenly, he whipped the cane outward and a blast of energy radiated from it, sending both you and Marc flying backwards. 

You hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop amongst the rubble at the base of a building, the armour protecting you from open wounds but not the impact itself. Your head was spinning as you looked up; the Gods were still fighting, leaving Cairo devastated in their wake as Ammit battered Khonshu to the ground. As you pushed yourself to your knees, you saw Marc on the floor, pinned down by Harrow who had the cane to his neck. It was glowing a deep and deadly purple, building up to a burst of energy that would have Marc and Steven dead for good. 

"Steven," you mumbled, stumbling forward. "Marc." But as you took a step, Taweret took over for only a second, yanking you to the side as a knife went flying past your head. Then another caught the armour of your wings, pinning you to the brick wall behind you, and you yelled out in terror as the man who had thrown the knife, aimed a machine gun at you. You covered your body with your free arm, the armour giving you some semblance of cover as he fired.

"Marc!" you screamed instinctively as the bullets bounced off of you, catching his eye as he struggled on the ground. The sight of you in danger did something feral to him, and he let out a anguished yell as Harrow's cane reached full power. 

You watched in absolute horror as what you thought, but then realised couldn't be Steven, took over his body. The suits morphed as though neither Marc nor Steven were in control as they grabbed Harrow by the collar, throwing him to the ground and relentlessly pummelling him until his face was a bloodied, near unrecognisable mess.