The Moon and The Sun (MoonKnightxReader)

So Shall It be

[🌙 There is graphic violence depicted in this chapter.🌙]

When my eyes opened, I immediately began to vomit, bracing the side of the brick building to steady me.

It was mere seconds that was in the void, yet my body ached and my vision swam with dizzying waves. I breathed roughly, as if I had ran several miles.

It appeared that I did.

This environment was unknown to me. Large brick buildings confined me in an alleyway, scarcely lit by street lamps, casting an orange glow on the damp stones beneath my feet.

I peered out into the connecting alleyway, finding it empty. There were, however, small tables and miniature gardens situated on both sides of the much wider alleyway. Trees lined the street, as if they were purposefully placed there, their leaves softly tousling in the breeze that swept through their limbs.

The sound of bleating goats caught my attention, and I found a few lone ones walking through the middle of the street. It was like a small town here, wherever this was.

"Steven!" I harshly whispered, retreating from my shadowing hiding place. On faith alone, I stepped out onto the cobblestone path. "Steven!" I softly called again, hoping he would answer.

How did I get here?

Oh, right.

I had lost what seemed like hours now that the sky was dark, the moon looking down on me as if it were my only companion here in the deserted street. An eerie fog rested above me towards the street lamps, obscuring their bright shine to a muffled fluorescence.

Lights from the windows of the buildings shown with a yellow hue, out of some buildings bleed an otherworldly green glow.

I tread lightly, fearing that someone would be alerted to my presence. Sensing that I was being followed, I whipped my head around to find the street behind me to be empty as well.

He had to be here. The only reason I gave into the inward commands was for one purpose alone: to find Steven.

I felt pulled to further my journey down the quiet street, aside from the bleating goats.

Thin sheets of plastic, draped from the rooftops of the buildings bellowed in the breeze, as if they were the capes of phantoms, being opened fully in the wind.

A considerable-sized building caught my attention, the entrance covered by yards of fabric. They were thin enough that the illumination from within was easily cast out from the fabric and into the street.

My steps hurried until I was just outside of the fabric entrance, waiting to hear any inclination from the inside to tell me where Steven was.

"Where is the scarab?" A familiar voice questioned. I heard that tone, that enunciation before.

"I don't have it..." Another voice, much meeker, answered. Steven? I fought the urge to rip past the fabric barrier an into what I could only assume was a perilous situation.

"Where is the scarab?" The first voice repeated, significantly louder and more irritated.

"No..." The smaller voice responded. He sounded terrified.  What had they done to him here, in this strange town, under the guise of night?

A hand clamped down on the back of my neck, roughly pulling me to my feet. I was quickly brought up to stand, facing a burly man with a snarl. His blond hair and green eyes, although fair, did nothing to lighten the scowl on the face.

"Let. Me. Go!" I struggling against him, reaching behind to scratch his hand that was bruising my skin.

He raised his opposite forearm to my vision, where a tattoo had been planted above his wrist. The black ink portrayed a crocodile figure holding a balanced set of scales.