Chapter Text
Marc vaults over the edge of the banister, his cape billowing out behind as he drops to the ground with a thud. Any notion of being stealthy has gone out the window as all eyes turn to him racing through the aisles of the church towards the scene.
“We warned you not to tell him!” the burly man roars, his voice echoing in the large chamber. In a split second, the man raises his hand and lands a brutal backhand across your face, sending you crashing to the floor with a sickening thud. Marc’s heart stops as he skids to a halt. A moment of silence passes as you lay there limply, before finally groaning. A brief wave of relief washes over him before it's replaced by fury. Without hesitation, he reaches to his chest and grabs a half-crescent blade, throwing it straight at the captor who dared lay a hand on you. The blade sinks deep into the man’s chest, blood staining his shirt, and he collapses to the ground, lifeless.
Marc’s eyes dart to the next nearest assailant. With lightning speed he pivots on his heel and lands a powerful roundhouse kick to the woman’s torso, sending her flying backwards. She collides with a nearby pillar, her head thudding against the stone with a deep crack before she falls down like a rag-doll, unconscious.
He glances in your direction, watching you slowly crawl in between the pews of the church. Thank god you’re still awake. He grabs another blade then launches himself towards the other male who had ‘escorted’ you into the church. The man isn’t quick enough to react, Marc slices through his throat before he even reaches for a weapon. Marc looks around, sweeping the area, and spots the remaining cultists fleeing deeper into the church. His face hardens with determination before he looks back. You’re cowering behind one of the large pillars, staring straight at him with wide fearful eyes. Torn between taking you to safety or hunting the fleeing cultists, he hesitates.
“After them!” Khonshu booms, and his decision is made for him.
Marc groans in frustration. “Get out of here,” he orders you before sprinting towards the back of the church.
He dashes through an old stone archway, hurtling down a darkened corridor until he finds a solitary wooden door at the end. Only one way they could have gone. He wastes no time trying the handle and kicks open the door, causing the wood to splinter as he marches inside.
sh*t.
Six men line the perimeter of the room, their guns all co*cking in unison as they aim at Marc. And standing right in the middle, is Jonathan. Marc’s blood boils. He could wipe that smug smirk off his face a thousand times and it still wouldn’t be enough.
“Enjoying playing with what’s mine?” Jonathan says with an air of superiority. Marc didn’t realise he's so… posh. That only infuriates him more. “Tell me, does she still like being choked?” he asks, earning a couple of snorts from the men around the room. “She always was a bit pathetic… She does still like being topped, right? Or is that special treatment only for my pleasure,” he says with a smirk. Marc’s fists tremble with white hot rage, how can this scumbag stand there and talk about you like that? “She’ll never truly be yours, you know,” he continues, stalking closer towards Marc, “not while she’ll still submit to me,” he sneers, and winks at him.
Marc snaps. He lunges for Jonathan, his fist inches away from the man’s throat, but to his surprise he deftly sidesteps the attack, spinning to move behind two of the others. Marc has no time to think how the hell he did that, as all six of the cultists fire at him.
Bullets and blades fly across the room, the sound of gunfire deafening in the small antechamber. Marc’s fists land blow after blow, his suit and enhanced healing providing protection from the bullets raining down on him. He knocks the men down one by one, catching glimpses of Jonathan smirking from the corner of the room. Each time he spots the asshole, he’s a step closer towards the exit. Marc hurries to finish off taking out the men in the room, he cannot let him get to you.
Once the final body slumps to the ground in a bloody mess, he finally turns his full attention to Jonathan, only to see an empty space and hear echoing footsteps down the corridor. He sprints after him, praying that you’ve at least tried to leave the church, but Jonathan is fast, too fast. He enters the main atrium of the building, his heart sinking when he sees you still there, hovering by the exit, staring at your ex boyfriend in terror.
Jonathan is sauntering straight towards you, already halfway down the aisle. Marc flings a blade, but again he avoids it, ducking out of the way without even looking.
How is he doing that, Steven’s worried voice asks from the reflection of a stained glass window. Marc shakes his head slightly, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, and walks level with Jonathan along the side of the church. He launches another blade, only for it to be deflected a third time, as if he’s just swatting a fly away.
“Long time, no see, darling,” Jon calls over to you pleasantly. Marc sees you shrink further into yourself for a second, before standing taller. His eyes widen. Oh no, don’t you dare... Don’t you dare think about facing up to him...
“Run!” Marc shouts as he quickens his pace, trying to get ahead of Jonathan, but you don’t move. Why aren’t you moving?! “Run!” he repeats, exasperated now. He can’t concentrate on fighting Jonathan AND keeping you safe.
Jonathan is only feet away from you when Marc sprints, tackling the man to the ground. Their bodies slam against the stone floor, but it doesn’t seem to phase the sociopath at all. He’s just… smirking. Marc leans back and raises his fist, but Jon is quicker. Marc feels the agonizing punch to the face before he even sees it. He stumbles back to the floor, his vision swirling. The world is on its side as he looks over, watching Jon walking back towards you still just standing there, defiantly, in the face of a danger far worse than he anticipated. Marc feels his consciousness slipping. He tries to get to his hands and knees as his stomach churns. He suppresses the urge to vomit, pushing up from the floor to kneel. His head spins from standing upright, like he's going to faint. Then everything goes dark.
The next thing he hears are your screams. His vision slowly focuses on the blurry, red covered figure in front of him, being held in place by what looks like his left hand. In his right, he spots a broken off wrought iron candlestick, the jagged edges less than an inch away from Jon’s throat. Jon's has been landed a few heavy blows, blood trailing down from his face and nostrils. The man is unconscious. Marc looks up. You’re on your knees, tears streaming down your face, looking at him like he’s some kind of… monster. His fists loosen, dropping the candlestick and Jon to the floor simultaneously. You scramble back away from him, looking even more terrified.
“No no no, it’s me! It’s Marc!” he says, and lets the mask drop from his face.
“Don’t kill him, please don’t kill him,” you beg. Marc frowns, he can’t understand why. They’ve got him, he’s right here.
“But we could end this right now…”
“Please,” you plead, fresh tears streaming down your face as you shake your head frantically. “Please don’t kill him.”
Marc clenches his jaw, of all the times for you to fight him on something…
“Finish him,” Khonshu instructs quietly, leaning against a pillar a few feet behind you. Now the big bird turns up again.
Marc's gaze flits back down to you, why the hell are you defending this horrible man? He closes his eyes, sighing, before opening them to take a step forward. You rush in front of Jon. Marc sighs again. in resignation. As if you could possibly stop him...
“No,” you snarl at him.
“Y/N,” he says gently, taking another step forward. “This needs to happen.”
“Stop placating the girl and just do it!” Khonshu shouts.
“Don’t fight me on this," Marc says, trying to keep his tone even.
“I’m not letting you hurt him anymore!” you snap. Marc can't understand this. He hears tyres screech outside, knowing time is running out, but the both of you keep your eyes locked on each other.
“I have to do this,” he says firmly, his hand slowly moving towards one of his crescent shaped blades. Your gaze flits down to his hand, and everything happens in an instant. Marc reaches out to grab you, intending to push you out of the way, but his grip catches on thin air. Your body is pulled to the ground, and before he knows what’s happening, Jon is on top of you, his palms wrapped around your throat. He grabs the psycho by the hair, yanking him backwards off of you, just as the doors to the church burst open.
“f*ck!” Marc bellows as five armed police enter the scene. Their torches shine towards the three of them as he puts the mask back on at the same time as letting go of Jonathan’s hair, taking a step back.
“Please officers this man- he- he’s trying to hurt me!” Jonathan snivels, crawling backwards towards the pews of the church as he points at Marc. He almost scoffs, he doesn’t believe this… He can’t leave you here, but he can’t fight the damned British police off like this. He growls in frustration, grabs hold of your arm and yanks you into his embrace, lifting you up to carry you bridal style.
“What are you doing!” you screech as he hears guns co*ck."Freeze!" an officer shouts as Marc starts sprinting towards the nearest window of the church.
“I'm getting us the f*ck out of here!” he says, as a single bullet fires at you.
