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

Chapter 11

"So, this Mogart guy. He's really gonna have this sarcophagus?" Marc asked, and you nodded.

"100%. Mogart's collection is prime gossip for those who deal in antiquities. And luckily, we have our very own gossip girl."

"Layla," Marc said quietly. You nodded.

The name El-Faouly; more specifically, Layla's surname, was a dangerous one to have in a place like Cairo. Granted she'd helped taint it in the first place, but to avoid danger she'd stayed in the UK and sent you and Marc all the information you would need to find an alternative path to Ammit's tomb. At least, that's what she told Marc. When you could have sworn you spotted her in Cairo, she made you promise not to tell him, and that she would always be close by to help if and when you needed it.

The two of you kept quiet for the majority of the boat ride you were on to Mogart's exclusive party. At one point you yawned and Marc switched from sitting opposite you to next to you, angling himself so that you could use his shoulder as a pillow.

"You okay baby?" he mumbled, arms wrapping around you. You tapped his arms responsively, letting out an appreciative hum when he softly kissed your neck, pressing his lips slowly up to your jaw, and then settling his head atop yours to watch Cairo go by.

Your mind wandered. You wondered what Donna was doing right now without her two best employees. Probably not something nearly as exciting.

Eventually you got to the shore, where acres of private land encapsulated a giant mansion. A party was in full swing with hundreds of attendants.

"This guy's got a lot of friends," Marc commented, offering you a hand to get off the rocky boat.

"Yeah, and a lot with guns," you worried. Marc pulled your arm through his, patting it gently, and led you quickly up the dock into the darkness of the trees. You looked behind you. A second boat with a group of men trawling just off shore. "Harrow's men keeping tabs?"

"I don't know. It could be," he said. "Let's go." The two of you strolled confidently into the party.

"Remember, your name is Rufino Estrada," you whispered to him. 

"Right."

"We just got back from our honeymoon in the Maldives."

"That's an interesting little detail to give to them."

"I'd tell them you worked at a gift shop, but they'd never believe me, would they?" you chuckled. "That a problem?"

"No." Marc looked at you with a smirk. "I'd take you somewhere much better than the Maldives." You didn't know how to respond to his half serious jest, so settled for shoving his shoulder with a laugh as the two of you walked towards a sandy jousting arena. Before you could get close, a security guard put out his hand, and whilst Marc acted with hostility, you plastered a warm smile across your face.

"I'm y/n," you introduced, holding out your hand for him to shake, and show you held no weapons. "Representative of Layla El-Faouly."

The guard nodded, the frown lines on his face fading as he took your hand.

"I'm Bek," he introduced. "Mr Mogart's looking forward to seeing you. He will be with you shortly." 

Bek walked off an Marc eyed him unhappily. He hadn't been pleased with you putting yourself in the firing line for this mission, but Yatzil had given you the hint, Layla had given you the location, and you wanted to prove to Marc that you knew what you were doing. That you were worth being here.

"So what?" Marc asked, crossing his arms as Mogart's horse cantered up to the opposite side of the fence, the powerful Frenchman sitting atop. "This joker just puts on El-Mermah games in his backyard, for fun?"