Steven sits uncomfortably in the backseat of a car as two people who claim to be officers of the law take him in. He thinks its a bit much for just messing up the restrooms, and he's correct. He struggles with the cuffs on his wrists, keeping his arms behind his back.

And yet again, his nerves are on fire. They can't seem to get a break. It's just one thing after the next.

" We've only got ourselves a full-blown, international fugitive. Marc Spector was part of a team of mercenaries that hit a dig site in Egypt. Here's what they did to the archaeologists. Zip-tied and shot in the back of the head, execution style."

He hears the officer as she speaks, he even catches a glimpse of the screen she reads the words from, but he can't believe it. He doesn't believe it. There's no way he couldn't done those things.

And he's right.

There's no way he could've done those things.

It's Marc. The American that lives inside his head. The man he shares a body with. Marc did those awful things... not him.

Steven has to keep telling himself that it wasn't him. That he didn't do it. That it's not his fault. He does it in order to preserve whatever sliver of sanity he has left.

The car comes to park and then engine turns off. Steven lifts his head and expects to see the city, but is only met with an empty street. His eyes dart to the driver's seat to see a familiar tattoo on the officer's forearm. The same one that the man from the Alps had. The two officers exit the car, leaving Steven all alone in handcuffs. His lips tremble, his mind in fragments trying to put itself together. He's startled by a soccer ball knocking against the glass window. He calls out to the girl who picks it up, hoping she can help him, but upon seeing her tattoo, he nearly loses it. He nearly loses all hope. He feels his eyes begin to roll back into his head, like his body is under attack from the inside. He feels Marc trying to claim the body, but he just shuts him out. His eyes land on the window across from him, showing Marc glaring in the reflection.

" You don't need to fight me, Steven. Surrender control."

But Steven can't let that happen.

" No. No... I saw what you did to those people..."

" It's not what you think," Marc says, now appearing in the rear view mirror.

" I'm... I'm never giving you control again. Ever. Do you hear me?"

" I hear you loud and clear, Steven Grant of the gift shop."

The radio clicks as the door opens, the door Steven happens to be leaning against, causing him to fall out of the car and land on the hard road at the feet of the man with the tattoo. The man with the cane bends down to Steven, as if showing he's not a threat.

" I'm sorry for the wait. We just needed a chance to better understand your situation," Arthur says, then turns to one of his followers, " Do you have the keys?", he's handed the keys and turns back to Steven, " Let's get you out of those cuffs," he uncuffs Steven and helps him get up on his feet, " Thank you both. Aren't they terrific?"

" Yeah, they're lovely," Steven responds, almost sarcastically.

" Well, no wonder your scales don't balance. It must be very difficult having all those voices inside one head," Arthur says as he straightens out his clothes, " Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Khonshu. I'm curious, do you think that Khonshu chose you as his Avatar because your mind would be so easy to break or because it was broken already?"

Steven almost takes offense from that. Yes, he has a questionable mental state, but broken is a word Steven would never use to describe himself.

" No," Steven says, speaking ever so softly, " I'm not broken. Just... need some help, maybe."

" That's right. That's why I'm here, to help," Arthur states, and upon seeing Steven's fearful gaze and breathless gasps, he puts a hand on his shoulder, " Do you see him? You see him right now? That's a privilege I no longer have"

Steven's eyes stare at the God's towering figure, seeing his cloak floating as a heavy gust of wind blows by, as if the God is trying to intimidate the poor Britt.

" KILL HIM."

" What's he saying, huh? Arthur asks, " Is he telling you to kill me?"

" BREAK HIS WINDPIPE."

Steven frantically nods, confirming the man's inquiries as the God appears over his shoulder.

" Well, just remember," Arthur says as he leans closer, " you don't have to do everything he asks. So, before you get excited and put on the cape, I'd love to take the opportunity to show you around."

The winds grow stronger and meaner, knocking over a trashcan in its wake and eliciting a cry from Steven's lungs.

Steven, in his newly found fragile state, follows the man with a cane like a lost puppy. He hangs on his every word, hoping that this man can help him. Help him be-rid of the God and the American.

Arthur shows Steven around the neighborhood and how peaceful life can be. He wants Steven to see everything he has to offer. He brings Steven inside to feed him, and that's exactly when the two women pull up on the bike. Cleo takes off the helmet she was forced to wear and lays it down on the seat as she steps off.

" Stay here," Cleo orders.

" I'm coming with you," Layla says as she snaps off her own helmet.

" I wasn't asking," Cleo says over her shoulder, already walking away from the bike.

Layla rolls her eyes but listens and stays back, but of course, not for long.

Cleo marches straight into the building, acting as if she's exactly where she belongs. One person decides to question her presence, standing in front of her and preventing her from moving on, the one person she was truly hoping to avoid.

" Well, well, well. What do we have here... Cleopatra," Baahir smirks as he crosses his arms.

Cleo stands her ground, already annoyed with the one sentence he has spoken.

" I'm here to see Harrow," She states.

" Oh really?" He questions, " What for?"

" The dig," Cleo scoffs, " Or there not enough blood flowing to your head since you've clearly forgotten that you're the one who recruited me."

Baahir smiles at her attitude as his eyes quickly travel up and down.

" So feisty," He mutters, then meets her eyes, " As the queen wishes."

Baahir turns around and walks through the building, paving the way for Cleo to follow. They pass a group watching a film on a projector and a table filled with lentil soup that fills the nostrils of anyone who walks by. He guides her to a table where two familiar faces are sat.

" We have another guest," Baahir announces, placing his hand on Cleo's lower back as she walks up to the table.

She takes a deep breath in order to gain her composure as Steven turns around in his chair, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Her eyes flicker down to meet his, giving him a gentle nod, as if saying it's okay.

" Welcome," Arthur says with a smile, then motions to the chair beside him, " Please, sit."

Cleo walks around to the other side of the table, sitting across from Steven and unfortunately sandwiched in between Arthur and Baahir.

" I don't believe we've met," Baahir says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, " Baahir."

" St-Steven," He stutters, eyes moving to Cleo in shock.

This is Baahir. The one he's heard so much about. The one who clearly is oblivious to boundaries, for he takes his right hand and rests it upon Cleo's thigh. She tenses up from the contact, but takes a deep breath and turns her head to the blonde man.

" I take it you two are," Arthur starts, his eyes darting between Cleo and Steven, " familiar?"

" Yes, we--"

" We're neighbors," Steven states, too nervous to hide the truth.

Cleo gives him a smile with her closed mouth, wishing he would have stayed quiet about that part, but she's pretty sure that they already know that.

" Now, Steven... are you aware that Cleo will be joining me?" Arthur asks as he sips his soup.

His words seemed to have angered both the God and the American, because soon enough the lights overhead begin to flicker.

" TRAITOR!"

The voice makes Steven jump, and seeing as Cleo hears it faintly, she's able to remain still.

" Might," She corrects, " I might be joining you."

" Well... I know you have a good head on your shoulders," Arthur starts, " I know you have a clear sense of right and wrong... and I know that the teachings of Ammit speak to you," he leans back in his chair, " How she casts her judgment before any evil's done. That's why we must resurrect her."

Steven and Cleo share yet another look, both weary of his words.

" Right..." Steven trails, " But... isn't that a bit dodgy? Like, trusting the judgment of a weird crocodile lady?"

Baahir's grip on Cleo's thigh tightens from Steven's words, and Cleo swallows as she forces herself to stay still.

" You don't need to doubt her judgment," Arthur says, giving his full attention to Steven, " Ammit will light the path to good by eradicating the choice of evil. Isn't that right, Cleo?"

The heads at the table all turn to her, now putting her on the spot.

" Perhaps," She says, lying through her gentle grin.

" Oh, come on. Don't be modest, now," Baahir says, removing his hand from her thigh to move her long black hair out of her face and over her shoulder.

Cleo's chest tightens from his action, turning her head to glare into his mischievous eyes.

" Yaqtae. Hu-hi. Khariju (Cut. It. Out)" She whispers in her native tongue, only earning a smirk from Baahir.

" Which brings us to the scarab," Arthur says, trying to reel in the conversation, his followers standing up at the same time to show there's no escape, " That scarab functions as a kind of compass, leading us to Ammit's tomb. She's out there, waiting, longing to be freed," Steven waves to one of the followers, " While the cruel masses deserve to face her judgement. And in the wake of their screams, evil will be eradicated. Steven... to exist at that moment? Heaven on earth. So... the scarab."

" Oh, um, I don't have it," Steven quips quickly.

" No?"

" Honestly, I don't have it."

" Well, maybe you know someone who does?" Arthur asks as his head turns to Cleo.

Baahir turns to her as well, she feels his eyes digging into her skull, but in no way will she back down now.

" I'm sorry... but I truly have no idea what you're talking about, " She states, " I've never seen the scarab you speak of."

Arthur tilts his head, displeased with her response.

" Is that so?" He asks, " No... mutual friend of yours that may possess it?" he goes to sip his tea, " Maybe, Marc?"

" Don't you do it," Marc says from the reflection of the metal bowl on the table, " Do not give her up. Just give me the body."

Steven clears his throat, keeping his eyes down on the table as he prepares to lie.

" No, I don't."

" May I speak with Marc?" Arthur asks.

" Uh..." Steven trails.

" Marc," Arthur says, no longer speaking to the Britt," what has Khonshu promised you? That this is your last mission? Then you'll be free? Trust me when I tell you Khonshu is a liar. There's always one last thing."

Steven glances at the bowl and notices that Marc is being oddly quiet at the moment, not that he's complaining, but there's one thing on his mind that he can't quite let go of.

" Sorry," Steven starts, " If Ammit judges people pre-evil, like, before the fact, then, isn't she judging an innocent person? I mean, a thought can't be evil, can it? I think about killing my boss all the time, but I wouldn't actually do it..." Arthur tries to but in, " What about a child? Would she kill a child for something they might to in 30 years?"

Steven certainly isn't making any tension go away. He's making a bad situation worse by just asking questions. He's unhappy with Arthur's response, and begins to get visibly upset. Cleo's eyes scan the room, seeing multiple people get up from their seats, all eyes on Steven. She sees people beginning to get closer and closer to the table, almost like they're expecting Steven to attack.

" Do you know what this is?" Arthur asks as he motions to his cane resting against the table," This is,"he stands up and picks up the cane, " Ammit's gift to her first Avatar," the cane begins to glow, imbued with purple magic," It contains in it a tiny sliver of her power," Steven stands up out of his chair as Cleo stays seated, restrained by Baahir's hand on her thigh, " I don't wanna use it. I don't."

" Then don't" Steven quips as he slowly walks backwards, " I can't help you."

" Yes, you can," Arthur says as he backs Steven to the middle of the room, " I need to know, where is the scarab?"

In Cleo's mind, everything will be fine. The scarab is with Layla, and Layla isn't here... or at least she wouldn't be if she had listened.

" I have it!"

Layla proclaims as she holds the scarab up into the air, walking into the building with all eyes now on her. Cleo sighs and goes to stand up, but Baahir's hand keeps her still yet again.

Arthur asks for Layla to hand him the scarab, but obviously, she doesn't listen. Her eyes scan the room for Cleo as she walks closer to Steven, finding her at the table, trapped by the man with a sickening grin.

" THERE IS NO DEAL IN THIS, MARC.  FIX IT."

Layla approaches Steven, but in her mind he is still Marc, so when she whispers to him, he has no idea what she's referring to.

" Summon the soup?"

Layla faces him, her brows furrowing in frustration as she forces the scarab into his hand. All eyes turn to Arthur as the wind blows through his hair, he holds the cane in his hands, ready to use its magic as Layla grabs Steven and runs. Cleo sees Layla almost effortlessly fighting off the attackers, but she knows that Steven is not one to fight. And so, Cleo grabs Baahir's wrists that rests on her thigh and twists it to the point where it almost breaks. He cries out in pain and retracts his hand, and she uses this time to kick out her chair from under her and hop over the table to join Steven and Layla. As she gets to the top of the stairs, she sees Steven dodging punches, trying his best not to get hit, and Layla grabs the attacker from behind and throws him off the stairs. A man runs up behind Cleo, wrapping his arms around her chest, blocking her from using her arms.

" Get off! Get off her!" Steven shouts as he flails his arms about, trying to hit the attacker.

Cleo throws her head back, her skull easily breaking the man's nose, then frees her arms of his grasp and shows her elbows behind her, causing the man to fall down the stairs, buying them some time as Arthur stakes his cane into the ground.

" That was awesome," Steven beams.

" Let's go!" Layla yells.

She leads the two of them up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to find an exit. But, alas, an Egyptian jackal seeps through a purple portal as they find an empty room and bolt the door behind them. They have a singular moment to catch their breathes, but Steven's mind doesn't let him rest. As they all realize there's no way out, panic sets in.

" Oh my God," Steven gasps, " I'm going to die in an evil magician's man cave."

As his panic attack surfaces, Cleo puts herself in front of him. Her hands grasp either side of his face, forcing him to look at her.

" You're not gonna die," She says calmingly, " It's gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

The large wooden door begins to creak as something from the other side tries to get in, distracted Steven to the point where Layla decides to step in.

" Your name is Marc," She starts, " There's a suit. I've seen you use it. You bring it out," he stutters, unable to form a sentence, " Where are you? We need you to fight."

" Let me in, Steven!"

" No, no, no! I can't. I can't. Stop, please, both of you," Steven pleads.

" Let me in, there's no more time."

" Listen to me, your name is Marc."

" Please, stop."

" Bring it out!"

" Let me in!"

" Where the hell are you? You need to fight!"

" Let me in, Steven!"

Too many voices all at once. It's too much for him to handle, and Steven snaps. He pulls away from Layla, putting his hands over his ears as he drops down to his knees on the floor.

" Please stop. Stop, stop. Leave me alone, both of you!" Steven cries, his pain radiating off his body, his panic so evident it can practically be smelled.

Layla goes in to bug him again, but Cleo grabs her forearm and shoves her so her back presses against the pilar and knocks the wind out of her.

" 'Iikhris! (Shut the hell up!)" Cleo shouts in Layla's face as her hands grip her biceps tightly," iinah yata'alamu! (He's in pain!)"

With a huff, Cleo lets go of Layla and instantly drops on her knees in front of Steven, and the moment she does his arms reach out and wrap around her, pressing his body tightly against hers as he tries to make the pain go away. Cleo wraps her arms around his back, pressing her lips against the top of his head ever so gently, whispering and reassuring that it's gonna be okay.

Their moment is short lived, for soon enough the door bursts open. Steven springs to his feet, eyes widening in shock as he's met with the same beast from the museum. As Steven and Cleo stare at the door, Layla stares at both of them, for she doesn't see anything. To her, the doors opened by themselves.

The jackal stalks Steven, backing him towards the window. Cleo reaches into her back pocket where her amulet lays, and as she touches it, she feels the air lift her chest, the colors in her surroundings almost becoming more vivid as the void in her body seems to be filled, but it distracts her. The jackal lunge for him and Steven jumps, causing him to fall out of the window in a freefall down to the ground.

" SUMMON THE SUIT!"

" Suit!"

Steven hits a large metal pipe and it sends him twirling down to the floor, but when he lands an all white 3 piece suit seems to break his fall. His head pops up, amazed at what he's accomplished, but soon loses his balance and tips over. He gets up on his feet, hands roaming over his new wardrobe, shocked that he's still alive.

" Oy, Steven," Marc says, appearing in the window, " What the hell are we wearing?"

" I dunno. She said I needed a suit."

" Yeah, the ceremonial armor from Khonshu's temple, not psycho Colonel Sanders."

" Well, I dunno how any of this shit works, man. I-- Well... we do look sharp, though."

" Alright, where is the scarab?"

As Steven searches his pockets, a screech from above rolls through the sky. The jackal lands face first on the pavement beside him, and moments later Cleo lands on her two feet, completely effortless. Marc and Steven stare in shock, their glowing wide eyes widening from her actions.

" Love, that was amazing!" Steven exclaims, " Quick question... how did you do that?"

" I can explain everything," She says as she walks towards him, " But we need to g--"

Her sentence is cut short by the jackal lunging for both of them, knocking them through a wooden gate to be met with Layla who simply took the fire escape down to the ground. Cleo groans as her body aches and begins to form bruises, unfortunately not possessing the healing powers that Khonshu provides. Steven reaches up, grabbing the bumper of a car to help him up, but accidentally bends the metal and snaps it right off.  He looks down at it and his hands in amazement, finding his new ability to be incredibly cool. Cleo tilts her head, trying to shake off the possible concussion she faces, but ends up getting her legs snatched by the beast and dragged along the cobblestone street. She screams, fingers trying to grab at anything, but it's no use.

The jackal ends up getting smacked in the face with a metal car bumper, and there Steven stands, looking proud as ever.

" So cool," He whispers to himself.

The jackal comes back, toying with them both, and even still as they fight it, Layla sees nothing. She sees them fighting air, but she knows better. She knows that there must be something, she just doesn't see it. She grabs a glass bottle in her hands and runs up to Steven who's being pinned against a car. She manages to break the bottle over the beast's head, the droplets of liquid outlining its features, making it just the slightest bit visible to her. Layla swallows a gasp, using the shards from the bottle to stab the invisible beast, but it simply removes the glass and smacks her down onto the ground. The jackal turns to Cleo, gripping her by her neck. It cuts off her air supply and lifts her up off the ground. She gasps, attempting to get any oxygen into her lungs, but it's no use. Her eyes begin to paint over with a golden glow as sand seeps out from her fingertips and begins to surround the beast. It swirls all over its body, causing it to free Cleo from its grasp as it attacks its eyes. Cleo gasps for air on the ground, but her freedom is short lived, for the beast grows angry and tosses her to the side as if she were garbage.

" Get away from her, you!" Steven shouts, drawing the attention of the beast to him, " Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote. You're in the wrong ends, mate. You're in my yard now!" he removes his jacket and tosses it to the side, rolling up his sleeves as he bounces from side to side, " Yeah, come on, that's right. Ooh, lookie here, lookie here," his taunting makes the beast growl as it watches his every move, " Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V!"

He lands a punch on the unearthly beast, then turns around in victory to face Cleo.

" Love, did you see that?"

The jackal pounces, bringing Steven out into the street and slams him back and forth against a double decker bus, but the locals just think he's a drunk. A fancy one, at that.

Layla rushes to Cleo's side, helping her to stand up, seeing a bright red bruise forming around her neck.

" How did you--"

" Not the time," Cleo croaks, struggling to speak.

She clears her throat as she looks down at the ground, but once she lifts her head she sees someone over Layla's shoulder, standing exactly where Steven was not a moment ago. No more is the 3 piece suit, but now a mummy bandaged ceremonial armor, accompanied with crescent moon blades attached to the chest, and Cleo recognizes this to be only one person.

Marc.

The mysterious American.

Marc gives Cleo one, very short lived glance, before he runs and scales a building to get the jackal out of people's way, but she's not having it. If he expects to do this all on his own, he's dead wrong. Cleo follows Marc with her eyes, seeing the general direction he's heading in and races to follow him, leaving Layla alone and confused.

Cleo's able to keep up fairly easily, even surprising herself with her stamina and speed, but it's far from Avengers-level.

Marc impales the jackal on the sharp tip of a statue, far away from where he started. His chest lifts, his arms stretch out to his side and his head tilts up as the ceremonial armor fades off of his body to reveal Steven's clothes hidden underneath.

Poor Steven. Now he's the one trapped on the inside. He looks around from his position in the mirror, scared, fearful. He's in pain, he's panicking, all while Marc is just happy to have his body back. But, as he searches the pockets of the clothes that aren't his, he realizes one fatal thing.

He doesn't have the scarab.

He shouts at the top of his lungs, letting his frustration out in whatever way he can, and shows Steven a side of himself that he's never seen. And as he catches his breath, Steven decides to speak up.

" So, this is what it's like? Being on the inside?"

" Yeah," Marc responds as he turns his head to face the man in the mirror.

" It's horrible."

" It's alright. You're alright," Marc sighs, turning his head away for just a second.

" I feel like I can scarcely move."

" It's alright, just breath through it," Marc comments.

" How long have you been doing this?"

" I don't know. It's... a long time."

Marc has never wanted to confront his demons, he just learned to live with them, and being here, having to talk to Steven is putting him in a place he truly doesn't want to be in.

" I don't want it," Steven pleads, " Can I have my body back?"

" I can't do that right now," Marc grunts as he stands up.

" You can't do this," Steven breathes, " keeping me here. You have no right. My whole life... can't keep a goldfish alive, I lost my job, can't go on a bloody date and the one time... the one time! The one time I find someone... it gets mucked up. It's been you. It's always been you, eating away at parts of my life like a parasite."

And Marc does his best to eat the words the best he can.

" Look, when I am done, when I have repaid my debt, I swear to you, you will never see me or hear from me again. I promise you. We wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Khonshu. And my... servitude is the price I pay."

" What kind of servitude?"

" The kind that leaves me covered in blood."

" Yeah, well that blood is on my hands. You ruin people's lives. Everything you touch, you ruin. You hurt people, you abandoned Layla... and there's no way in hell you're gonna abandon Cleo. You can't. I won't let you."

" I am protecting Cleo," Marc argues as he points a finger at the mirror, " You don't know what you're talking about."

" You stood her up!"

" I had a mission."

" It was a date! My first bloody date!"

" I'm doing what I have to do to protect her."

" You're a liar. I don't believe you. I don't trust you."

" I'm never gonna let him near her."

" You hurt people."

" Just shut up!"

" I won't let you hurt her again! I will never give you a moment of peace, I promise."

" Shut up!" Marc shouts the tolling bells acting as a rhythm as his foot smashes into the glass, " Shut up!" again, " Shut up!" again, " Shut up!" and again.

As Marc finally stops, looking at the broken glass to only see his own reflection, Cleo watches from afar, eyes wide, but mouth silent. And while she couldn't hear Steven's responses, she heard Marc.

A strong wind blows by as the God makes his presence known, and for the most part, Cleo pays no mind to their conversation. The God is still unclear in her vision and ears, so instead, her eyes stay locked on the broken glass, the last seen location of her Steven, until she hears the God crystal clear.

" LET ME REMIND YOU, SHOULD WE PART, YOU MAY NOT LIKE MY NEXT CANDIDATE, NEAR AND DEAR AS SHE IS TO YOUR HEART."

" You said Cleo was nothing to you," Marc says with furrowed brows, only drawing in her attention even more.

" THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW SHE HAD A GIFT."

The God chuckles, and it sends a bone chilling shiver down her spine.

" Where are we going?"

" WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK?"

The God disappears within the night sky, and as he does, Cleo finds the strength to walk up to the man who wears the same clothes as Steven, even has the same face as Steven, but most certainly is not him. Marc stands with his back turned to her, but he can feel her behind him as she tries to come up with the right words.

" Where's Steven?" She asks, for it truly is at the forefront of her mind.

" Safe," Marc says over his shoulder.

Silence resumes as Cleo thinks of what to say next.

" What do we do now?"

" Let me stop you right there," Marc says as he turns around to face her, " There is no we."

" If you think I'm going to let you and Steven handle this alone, you're sorely mistaken," Cleo says, standing tall as if to show she's not backing down.

Marc's jaw tightens as he inhales deeply.

" Go home, Cleo," He says, " It's too dangerous."

Cleo takes two steps, inching her body closer to his as her eyes stare up at him.

" Says... who?" She questions, " Harrow's going to Cairo... and I can only assume that's where you're headed."

Marc blinks at the mention of the city, and that's all the confirmation she needs.

" I don't need your help," He states.

" You don't?" Cleo asks, " Do you speak Arabic?"

Silence.

" Do you have a place to stay in Cairo?"

Silence.

" Have you got transportation all figured out and arranged?"

Silence.

" And last time I checked..." She trails as she inches even closer, " I'm not the wanted fugitive," his eyes continue to bore down into hers, refusing to admit that she may be right, " You need my help... and whether you want me to or not... I'm helping."

With all Marc has learned about Cleo, just from seeing through Steven's eyes, he knows one thing is certain. Cleo is not going to take no for an answer. And so, he swallows his pride as he takes a deep breath, preparing to say a word that does not come easily nor naturally for him.

" Fine."

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[ 5k words later... ]
[ why i have such a huge lady boner for oscar isaac i'll never know ]