11673/Sun King Ascendant: Foggy Nights

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Sun King Ascendant: Foggy Nights
Date of Scene: 20 June 2022
Location: Remote Temple of Khonshu, Egypt
Synopsis: Jonathan Sims attempts to fend of a psychic assault by his old mentor Elias Bouchard. He discovers the truth of the man he once called his teacher, and loses not only the struggle but control of his body as well. Ma'at, taking his place, agrees to name the Sun King as the true Avatar of Ra.
Cast of Characters: Marc Spector, Jonathan Sims




Marc Spector has posed:
    When Jon wakes it's clear he's no longer in the warehouse in Brooklyn. The air is cool and the lights flicker as if from torches; because they are. A great many torches gleam and bounce their light off the gold in the temple. Jon's never been to the temple of Khonshu where Marc died, but he's heard a great deal about it from the man.

    The towering statue of the god of the moon is more elaborate and topped with a masked bird's head. The long beak is almost ravenlike, but the other features are more prominent for a bird of prey. The robe and staff with the hooked crescent is similar enough to the one at the Midnight Mission to be the parent of the one there.

    A number of other features in the temple are reminiscent to the Mission as well. The heiroglyphs along the wall are the same as the the runner along the middle of the wall in Queens. The pillars are also familiar in make and placement. The open air of the temple, letting the moon shine down on the proceedings within is different, but the rains of New York are probably a concession to that.

    Jon is lying inside a different circle this time. His suit is still on but the kopesh and telescopic staff are gone from his person. The stone under him is cool and swept clean. His magic is all but cut off entirely. The astral is a tangible thing here in this sacred place but it trickles like so many grains of sand through Jon's fingers if he tries to grasp it.

    Elias and the Sun King are in conversation outside the circle and they turn as he stirs. "Oh, wonderful. You had us worried, Jon. Glad to see you're still able to rise" Elias says smugly. He is wearing a different three piece suit than the one he appeared in when he was in Brooklyn. It could have been one day or several or the same as far as Jon can tell. The Sun King is still in his dark robes, the chain he was so fond of using slung over a shoulder as he watches the two former colleage's converse.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon takes long, deep breaths to still panic as he comes up out of his stupor. For a few moments he just lies there on the cool stone, taking a brief inventory while he tries not to let Elias' voice get to him. He can't even reach his magic well enough to summon up his right arm, but he notes that he's not as hungry or thirsty as he'd be after more than a few hours. So, deep breaths. There's still time for the others to find him. He just has to keep hold of himself and gather information in the meantime.

    He pushes himself up off the floor--a harder thing than it appears to be, done with only one arm--and brushes off his suit a bit.

    "Elias," he says, and can't manage to keep the vitriol out of his tone. "Still getting other people to do your dirty work, I see. What lies have you been telling him, hmm? That he's saving the world from the dark threat of..." He looks down at his hand like he's checking his notes. "...retired psychiatrists?"

    Yes, Jon just acted out a meme. It's his way of mocking Elias, who surely has no idea what it means.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Elias looks hurt by Jon's words. "I've not told him a single thing that isn't true, Jon" he says, and Jon doesn't need to mantle of Ma'at to tell it's a lie before he's done. "I've told him that you, as the avatar of Ma'at, are the only one who can truly crown him King of the Sun. I also told him I seek power, and that Khonshu is a formidable power in his own but that the current avatar is out of touch with the true pupose and squanders the power offered by the god."

    All the words are true but they lack context or connective tissue. "But you know what I am truly after Jon..." he says his eyes focusing on Jon as he approaches the circle. "I want to talk. We could work together again you and I. Like old times. I admit that some things have gotten in the way of that relationship, but I am willing to set all that behind us. Think of all the good we could do: Sun, Truth, and I, together we could change the world." The unspoken 'for my benefit and power' is ringing in its absence.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stares at Elias. "Like /old times/? You mean when you indoctrinated me into a cult, forced me to conceive a child with my best friend, killed all my friends and stole the baby so you could sacrifice her, while planning all the while to steal my body? /Those/ old times?" He shakes his head. "I've finally come to understand why you were so dismissive of any magi besides yourself and the Eye of Ra--you're a known quantity in magical circles. I've heard all about your /body hopping/."

    He glowers at Elias and tries to fold his arms across his chest, but that's a hard thing to do with just one. So he drops the posture and just looks to the Sun King. "What has he told you, truly? Did he spin a story about how /horrid/ the world is, how it needs saving from itself? Did he feed you the line about Sekhmet scouring the unworthy from the Earth, or does he at least change of the details of his scam?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    Elias smiles a bit. "The price of immortality is high and one form of it is as sacrificial as the next. I decided to choose one that did not require an imbalance of life. What I do is an exchange. But yes... those old times, Jon. While there were unfortunate results, what we managed to accomplish was incredible. I'm sure you've seen just how powerful your child is already at 13." He turns to the Sun King as Jon addresses the man and gestures, ceding the flor to the robed man.

    The Sun King seems only a little confused by the accusation levied at Elias but he shakes himself out of it and looks to Jon. "He told me that the world needs balance and that the true god Ra was the way to achieve that." He scowls fiercely. "I am inclined to agree given how easily I was discarded and forgotten. If the world is willing to discard a king so easily then it is time for a reworking of their understanding."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts. "An 'exchange,' sure." He eyes the man. "What's your real name, anyway? Is the original Elias Bouchard in there somewhere, or did the poor sod die when you stole his body?" His expression looks almost mournful for a moment and then he shakes his head.

    "He's using you," he snaps at the Sun King. "Whether or not he's right, he's /using/ you, like he's used everyone else in his life. We could have a real conversation about the place of kings in a world run by democracies, but instead you're working with this jackass."

    Elias draws his expression back again, and the man knows Jon well enough to know much of the sarcasm and snapping is a cover for fear. Not as much as it once was, though--there was a time, long ago, when Jon's sense of self was brittle and malleable, when he would have been defensive but desperate for someone's reassurance and approval. Now, he seems... more sure. More confident. There's a ste to his shoulders and jaw like he's digging in for a fight, and those dark eyes hold far more calculation than they ever had even just the last time they faced off a few months ago. Not so much a cornered animal that might react well to some food and attention, but a warrior trying to see his way out of a trap.

    Everyone grows up sometime, right?

    "What do you want, Elias? You can't have brought me here to /talk/ me into working for you again." A beat. "Or do you /really/ think I'll just... fold that easily?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    Elias turns to take the floor again. "Jon. I don't think your in a position to say what you will or won't do... we're going to get your cooperation one way or another." He looks to the Sun King. "Leave us. I will come get you when he is more... cooperative." He turns to smile a Jon again.

    The Sun King seems to object. "I think I would like to see what sort of methods you employ Bouchard..." he says. "Besides, the quicker you're done with your convincing the quicker I can take my place as the rightful ruler."

    Elias turns sharply his face contorting in rage. "You will have your -place- as Ra when I say so..." Power radiates from him and it's fierce enough that the Sun King takes a step back in caution. "Now go. Or I will see that you spend the rest of your life in a cell that will make Ravenscroft look like a Five Star Hotel."

    The Sun King seems like he wants to stay but eventially relents and departs. Elias tugs at his coat to straighten it and turns again to regard Jon. "So difficult to find competent help these days. Everyone has their own opinions and morals..." he shakes his head and steps forward. "Now, where were we, Jon? Oh yes. I want your cooperation. I am offering you a chance to have some level of autonomy in it... but if you must refuse... then I will simply get it through more direct means."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon watches the Sun King go and shakes his head. "He should not have given into you like that. More proof this is a fool's endeavor you wage."

    Then he turns to Elias. "You really don't get it, do you?" For a moment he looks like he almost pities the man. "You killed Tim and Alya. You killed /Martin/. All so you could get your hands on a child you'd /forced/ me and Alya to conceive, a child you then proceeded to neglect and abuse. Maybe, /maybe/ if you'd been a decent father to Agnes, I might have been willing to listen. But what you did to her..."

    He shakes his head. "She hates you, do you know that? She /fears/ you. That child, s-she... she takes the /slightest/ scrap of affection and attention and gobbles it up like it were a feast. She says you never hurt her physically, that you kept her fed and clothed and safe, and I believe all of that. But a child needs /so/ much more than that to live, and thrive. She needs love, and care, and I'm not certain you're capable of either."

    His hand clenches into a fist at his side. "So I don't care what you say. I bent to you once before, I made the mistake of handing Agnes over to a woman who just... proceeded to hand her back over to you." Guilt flickers across his features. "I won't make that mistake again. Do what you like, but I will /never/ willingly work with you again. I'll see you dead first."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Elias sighs and shakes his head. "A pity. I was looking forward to working with you willingly. But if I must take complete control in order to achieve my goals..." The torches in the temple flicker and dim down the fires weaknening under intense magical strain that Elias brings to bear. "Then so be it."

    The force that presses down on Jon's mind is strong. It is clear that Elias has not been slacking in his magical endeavors, even with the dissolution of the Eye of Ra cult.

    A voice shimmers across Jon's mind; Elias' voice but also mutliple voices at once. The voice of every victim he's taken in his quest for immortality. "You've grown stronger..." he says at the boundries of Jon's mind. "This may be harder than I anticpated... but that's good. It's been so long since I've truly faced a challenge to my control."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    What Elias runs into as he tries to invade Jon's mind is a complex, layered defense, far more intricate than anything Elias had ever taught him. The first level is rather simple, as it goes, but a technique learned from Red Robin: a constantly replaying loop of 'Call Me Maybe' blared at high volume. Not merely the song, though, oh no. This is the /music video/, a story of misplaced affections for a sexy neighbor boy, complete with fumbling attempts to wash a car and impromptu garage-band performance.

    Look, Jon /really/ likes Carly Rae Jepsen. He'd have the video memorized /without/ perfect recall.

    He smirks at Elias. "What, did you think I spent all these years twiddling my thumbs? I've discovered everything you taught me was true, so I presume that I could never defend against you before because you left some kind of back door into the structure. I tore it down and rebuilt it with the help of an archangel and some vigilantes I know. Enjoying the show?"

    And then Jon does something Elias surely does not expect: he lashes out with his own mind, striking at the one point he figures might be weak: Elias' eyes. If he can wrap a mental veil around those eyes it might cut him off from whatever in the eyes is the source of his power. Even without Ma'at bolstering him, his mental fortitude is /much/ stronger than it once was.

Marc Spector has posed:
    There is a moment of panic as Jon goes stright for the source of Elias' strength. The man recovers quickly though and a blazing wall of fire flares up, catching the mental attack on his vision and dispersing it. He continues to press his offensive. The music video blares before him and he starts sending bolts of psychic electricity out against the screens and speakers, destroying one after another in a chain of mental electric dispersal.

    "Clever attempt, but not clever enough, Jon" he says, his own mental assault a separate thing to the elctic destruction of the shield. He's attempting to worm his way into the Archivist's mind to get to the next barrier... he is certain there are still vestiges of that back door. There have to be. The man wasn't strong enough to truly get rid of every contingency Jonah Magnus had put into his mind.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The next layer is all-too-familiar to Elias: a mirror ball, reflecting the mental attacks back at the attacker. Unlike the mirrors Elias taught him to use, however, these are warped and twisted as if in a funhouse. Not quite so easy to hit with a simple shattering attack.

    "At least I know what your weakness is, now," Jon says in reply, body tensed. "How do you do it, Elias? Do you cut out their eyes by hand? Cut out your own? Or do you just transfer them with magic so it doesn't hurt so much?" A man who body-hops cannot enjoy the thought of death; those moments must be horrific to the man.

    He lashes out mentally as he says this, again and again, a barrage of attempts to go at the eyes that Elias /might/ not notice the whallop Jon's trying to aim at the back of his head, metaphorically. One good blow and this might be over.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Elias hammers on mirrors. Smashing ones he thought before him only to find they lead back out of Jon's mind. He dodges and throws up wall after wall at the attempts to his eyes. "You cannot keep this up forever, Jon. It is only a matter of time before I manage to break through and you know it... why not stop this tediousness, lay down, and let me in."

    He smashes another warped pane and finds a long corridor of more behind, mirrors in mirrors in mirrors into infinity. He stops and looks around at the reflections of himself twisted and says, "If you must know the eyes are a window to the soul... literally. I extract the essence from one window and take its place. It's a rather simple process and not efficient as others but it has suited my purposes for nearly 200 years."

    He turns on the spot and mentally wraps the psychic attack aimed at his back with weaves of his own power before hurtling it back at Jon, following the course it takes to try and find the path to it's sender's core and the prize he seeks within: Jon's will.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The last of the mirror maze shatters, and Jon reels back, physically, crying out and pressing a hand to his forehead. "Fuck," he mutters. "So much for that."

    The next layer is a mirage, but a very well-constructed one. A desert, the sun beating down, heat waves rising from the ground. The core of Jon's mind is visible in the far distance, but however much Elias tries to travel through the desert, whichever way he turns, he can't get any closer. It's an ancient construct that many Archivists have used, taught to him by Uriel.

    "200 years?" Jon says aloud. "That's how long you've been doing this? /Why/? Are you just that afraid of dying?" Their tone turns almost sympathetic. "Dying isn't so bad, you know. Even if Ammit ate your heart, your soul will go back into the cycle and you'll be reborn."

Marc Spector has posed:
    "But it will not be me" Elias replies acidly. "My work is too important to allow the flow of time to take me. Not until I put into motion what I have strived for so long to achieve." He stalks forward through the desert confident in his ability. "A exceptional facsimile, Jon. Most rudimentary minds would find it impossible to get past this layer."

    His power swells and he waves a hand wiping away the entirety of the mirage in an instant. "Unfortunately you will find my mind far from rudimentary. It's a good defense, Jon, as long as your opponent is not a former Archivist themself." He passes through into the deeper recesses of Jon's mind.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon gasps as the penultimate defense is just... waved away. He stares at Elias, eyes wide, as a memory suddenly floods into him through the tiny connection he still has to the Archive: staring at those gray eyes out of a mirror, from a completely different face.

    "Jonah Magnus," he gasps. "You're Jonah Magnus. The Archivist that moved us to England." A shudder, and he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head, trying to will the memory away. "And you... what, you've been trying to get the Archive /back/ all this time? Is that why you killed Gran?"

    The final defense is a globe of water, in which Jon floats, curled up into the fetal position. The water itself is like the water of the lake of Duat where Jon's body regenerated, protective and healing all at once. Any attempt to attack it is reflected or absorbed, depending on the angle of the attack, but the water is /very/ good at just scattering incoming energy.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Elias Bouchard steps forward passing into the final space of Jon's mindscape mentally and passing into the circle that Jon is in physically. In Jon's mind the facade of Elias Bouchard is stripped away and reveals an older gentleman in a Victorian suit. A closely trimmed beard frames his jaw and steely grey hair is cut short along his head. One this is the same though, the eyes. The eyes of Elias Bouchard are the exact same eyes as Jonah Magnus.

    "I commend you, Jon" Jonah Magnus says as he approaches the sphere of water. "Most wouldn't figure that part out until it was too late." He smiles and lashes out with his mental attack again. The sphere holds as the attack strikes it and slides off with impunity. "Hmm... intersting..." he says as he reaches out mentally to touch the surface of the water. He jerks back before his hand makes contact, as if realizing how much of an error such an act would be.

    "If the situation cannot be approached directly, the all one needs is some new perspective" he muses and smiles at Jon. "Jonathan, you realize how much work I have put into you? How many seeds I've planted in your mind? I consider you my greatest work of all time. But there is one thing you never truly understood." His next words come laced with power as if activating a code phrase. "'You are nothing without someone's hand to guide you.'" The smile that splits his face is full of smug superiority.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon struggles, physically and mentally both; he actually swings a punch at Elias, though he misses entirely. He throws every bit of mental energy he has not maintaining the last construct at Jonah as he steps into the circle, using all the energy freed up from maintaining defenses that have been broken through.

    It's not enough.

    It's not enough, because fifteen years ago when Jon was inducted into the Eye of Ra cult, Jonah embedded a code phrase into his mind that's driven much of his thinking ever since. It plays on one of his greatest fears, and greatest longings: the pain of the orphan, neglected by a caretaker; of a child who wanted guidance from a church that rejected him; of a lonely adolescent desperate for friends who turned to addiction to fill the emptiness. A fear of control, and loss of control, a fear of being manipulated and a desperate desire to be told what to do in a world where he's often felt flailing and lost.

    On the mental construct in Jon's mind, puppet strings appear, attached to wrists and ankles and throat like a marionette. They grow and come out of the globe of water, ready to be picked up by a skilled puppeteer.

    Jon's eyes widen. "No... please, don't..." He swallows. "Eli--Jonah, /please/." He's crying. "Please don't do this. Whatever you're trying to accomplish with me, /please/, j-just... stop."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jonah takes up the marionette strings with a gentle hand. "I didn't want to have to do this, Jon. I truly had hoped you would come around on your own... but if I cannot have your cooperation freely, then I will take it from you however I can." He pulls on the strings and draws Jon forward, mentally, watching as the physical representation complies with a smile on the face of the much younger man he inhabits.

    "Now... let us see if I can use your voice with as much simplicity as your body..." he says. "Speak, Jonathan. Tell me what it is you plan to do once the Sun King returns." He shoves the intent down upon Jon. The wish to name the Sun King, Subject 81, Viktor Johanssen as the true avatar of Amon-Ra.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stumbles forward, step by faltering step. He resists at every turn, sobbing, forcing his jaw closed. There's a strangled sort of sound as he tries to keep from talking.

    "I... will..." He bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood, to stop the words.

    <<No,>> he thinks, and it's easy for Jonah to hear his thoughts now. <</No/. I don't /care/ if that's the truth. I won't do it just because /you/ told me to.>>

    They shudder, jerking at the invisible strings. For a moment, despair surges over them. What's the point of fighting? What Jonah's put in their mind is so deeply embedded that any attempt to remove it might well damage them irreparably. Maybe better to just go along, and hope people will track them down, and stop whatever Jonah's horrible plan is. Because there must be a horrible plan, right?

    But they promised Cael they wouldn't give up.

    There has to be /some/ way out of this. Pulling against the strings does no good, and the one around their throat tightens as they fight it, refusing to speak. They know that if it's a mere battle of wills, Jonah's already worn them down, and the strings give him all the power.

    Wait.

    The /strings/.

    Jon flicks a glance upward, and takes a shuddering breath. Oh, this is going to /hurt/.

    Then he pulls every drop of power through the tiny connection to the Astral that he can, like he's desperately sucking through a blocked straw. It's hard enough to pop blood vessels in his eyes, but he doesn't stop. It's a /tiny/ amount of power he's able to grab, but it's enough to manifest a pair of scissors within his mental space. Scissors that he uses to cut through the strings holding him up.

    At which point he collapses to the ground, precisely like... well... like a puppet with its strings cut.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jonah frowns down at Jon's collapsed heap. His face twists into an expression of rage. "You fool..." he says with disgust. "You use up one final burst of power and -this- is what you do to yourself?" He spits at the ground. "Fine... if you are so keen on being worthless... then so be it."

    He reaches out and gathers the remnants of Jon's psyche. "It's not -your- voice I need anyway..." he says as motes of light, Jon's psyche coalesces into a pusling white light. "Goodbye, Jon." He says extending a hand and wrapping the white ball of light in a field of dark, evil energy.

    Seeming satisfied with his work, Jonah moves out of the circle and waves a hand, erasing the marks on the smooth stone; releasing whatever was keeping Ma'at from the body and allowing the goddess to once more inhabit Jon's form.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's psyche is wrapped up into a nightmare and shunted away, so he can't get in the way of any further plans. This is not likely to be a pleasant experience, but what of all of this has been so far?

    After a few moments, teal light glows in Jon's eyes and the form blinks slowly. "Oh, Jonathan," the goddess' voice murmurs. "What have you done?"

    After a moment, she stands, peering at Jonah. "Well, you have me summoned and bound. What do you--" A long, slow blink. "I know you. The lost child. You refused to accept that you would one day die and the Archive would pass to another. You begged my husband to make you his avatar."

    A sigh. "What do you wish of me, then, Jonah Magnus? I have an avatar, and I will not intercede with you on Thoth's behalf."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jonah laughs at Ma'at. "Goddess, my ambitions have risen much higher than either you or your husband can compare." He shakes his head. "All I need from you is to do your duty to another of the lost ones. If you have seen all that has come before, then you know who the Sun King truly is" he states. "As the true heir to the throne of Egypt, he is due his title, and while Jon may have disagreed, surely you can see the truth of it. Ra's power already resides within him."

    "All he needs," he says gesturing to the goddess inhabitting Jon's body, "is for the Voice of the Pharaoh to speak his existence into being. That is truly all I ask of you. Bestow your namesake upon he who is already chosen."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Ma'at sighs. "I am not well-pleased with my avatar. Even before today..." She shakes her head, sharply. "That is no matter. You need not convince me of the truth of the matter, Jonah Magnus. Had Jonathan simply done as they were told, none of this would have had to happen."

    Her eyes narrow as she regards the man. "Whatever you plan, be aware--I will serve the king, as is my duty. And that will include pointing out the slightest treachery."

    Her chin rises a bit. "Go, then, and bring forth the lost child of Nectanebo so I may give him his due."