Thanks to @thefallens0n for letting me write the intro to this great character.
Egypt. The Past.
Blood and bones.
Those were the only things filling Marc Spector's vision as he lay entombed beneath an Egyptian temple in the middle of nowhere that had been abandoned centuries ago by its creators.
The bones belonged to the poor souls who'd been sacrificed to the temple's deity, a being that Marc hadn't even known existed until he'd started raiding local villages alongside his partner. The blood he saw began to drip into his boot, leaving behind a short, red trail that culminated at the body of its owner, Raoul Bushman.
"Sorry, Bushman." Marc sighed, stepping over his friend's corpse towards the main portion of the temple. He hung his rifle over his shoulder and stared at the golden items hanging right in front of him. "My share of the profits gets bigger with you out of the way."
Never before had the mercenary seen such a large horde of wealthy items just waiting to be plundered, while the ground was covered in the remains of hundreds, there was plenty of life to be found in the beautiful treasures lying inches away. There were cups, jewels and more lining the walls. In the center of the room, there was a type of coffin, its owner having not seemed to have had many friends, judging from the lack of effort that had gone into the design, and around it there were several crescent shaped artifacts. They were small and light, like darts, impressive for the time... but Marc didn't care. Instead he started shoving items into his bag, practically drooling at the thought of all the money he was going to make.
It was all going well... at least until he pulled open the coffin. Chalk dust flowed out, making Marc cough violently as it seemed to drift into his mouth and descend down into his lungs. He stood gagging for a long while, weak until he finally regained the strength to look up. That was when he saw the skeleton lying within. It was clearly fragile with age, close to collapsing, and it was covered in something resembling a white cloak, with a hood hanging low over the wearer's skull.
For some reason, Marc felt the need to don the maggot infested cloak. He dropped his bag of treasure and after a few seconds he stood tall in the ancient Egyptian clothing article.
"Not my style..." He muttered before turning around to see everything around him had completely disappeared.
________________________________________
New York City, Years Later...
"I was a marine." Marc explained, dressed in a white tuxedo, alone in blackness with what appeared to be a mask covering his face. "A killer who fought for his country. Then I became a Mercenary. A murderer who fought for his fortune."
Jake Lockley stepped out from the dark, scruffy and wearing loose fitting, cheap clothing that wouldn't have been suitable for a homeless man.
"I'm a cab driver." He said, voice low like a man that had seen and done terrible things. "I also help the men who run the protection rackets."
Another man appeared in the dark, Steven Grant was holding a bottle of champagne in one hand, and was clutching a beautiful blonde in the other.
"I run New York City." Steve sighed, bored and more interested in his companion. "By 'New York City' I mean 'crime'." He shrugged slightly. "It's a living."
"Boss? Are you talking to me?" A distant voice asked, almost unnoticeable.
A small, white shape flickered into view in the black, as all men turned towards it, the costumed murderer known as Moon Knight appeared, red eyes glaring out from beneath the hood like it was being worn by something that was beyond human.
"I protect the people of the night." He explained.
"Is the boss all right?" Another distant voice asked. This time it gained Marc Spector's attention, he clicked his fingers sharply and pointed them forward, towards nothing.
"Shut up!" He snapped. "I'll deal with you in a minute!"
Quickly all the figures returned their attention to the matter at hand, they were all stood in a perfect circle, and in the center of the shape, a woman had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Well, Mister Grant." She said as all the other men simply faded out of existence, leaving Steven alone in the vast mind space. "I have your results."
"Great." He said, agitated while looking quickly at his watch, supermodel still clinging on desperately. "Lay 'em on me."
"Turns out you're not insane." The young woman said, cold and emotionless. "You don't have D.I.D."
Mister Grant felt something rush over him, like someone had cracked an egg over the top of his skull and let the yolk rush down his face.
"What?"
"Those voices you hear? Something else entirely. Either it's supernatural in origin, or..." The girl forced a cruel smile through her black lips. "You're just a freak." The world began to shake, Steven's girlfriend turned to dust, and the only emotion filling his heart seemed to be pure, uncontrollable rage.
"Shut up." He muttered, knuckles twitching under his gloves.
"Those murders you committed?" The woman continued, merciless. "It turns out... you're just an evil ba$tard."
"SHUT UP!"
The blackness disappeared, and when Steven Grant woke up he found himself sat down in his penthouse, a couple of his gang's lieutenants standing right in front of him.
"He's awake!" One of them yelled, surprised. Steven couldn't remember the man's name, all he could recall were the man's rat like features.
"Are you alright, Mister Grant?"
Steven considered what he'd just been through, some kind of psychic therapy? Whatever it was it had unnerved him, left him doubting his own sanity and reason. If he, the most rational of men could be tricked by such a conjuring then anyone could.
"What? What do you want?!"
Rat face stepped forward, nervous and unsure about his employer's intentions.
"Incident down at the docks." He explained quickly, sweating. "Cops got one of our guys, Benny Button. And he's not being paid enough to stay quiet."
With a renewed amount of enthusiasm, Grant got to his feet and moved to one of the large windows that overlooked his night covered his city.
"Doesn't Detective Castle usually handle this for us?" He asked.
"He's busy with that Crossbones fella. Along with most of our other cops."
A small smile filled Steven's face as he realized he was getting an excuse to go into action. He adjusted the cuff links on his wrists and turned back to his men.
"Yes. Very good." He said. "I'll get Mister Knight to handle it."
_________________________________________________
The sterile smell of the hospital filled Mister Knight's nostrils as he moved quickly through the building's hallways, long, crescent cape flowing behind him as he opened the door to his target's room.
Benny Button, a hired thug who knew a little too much for his own good. People tended to say that knowledge was power, and while that was true, sometimes it was just a hazard.
"Hello, Benjamin." Moon Knight said calmly, letting the door slam shut behind him. The culprit squirmed in his bed like a termite about to be crushed beneath someone's foot.
"Oh god!" He gasped, sweating, eyes wide with fear at the seemingly demonic creature stood right in front of him. "Wasn't there security at the door?!"
Moon Knight said nothing for a moment, and instead stared into Benjamin's eyes, cold and unrelenting.
"Not anymore."
"Oh god, oh god, oh god!!!"
Carefully, Mister Knight moved a surgery table out of the way, stepping closer to his victim until he was literally towering over him.
"You were going to ruin Mister Grant's operation, Benjamin. I want to know where a piece of dirt like you found the courage to even consider such a thing."
"There... there was this girl!" He stammered, chest pounding heavily like it was about to burst. "She killed Tony! Cut him up! I've gotta talk! Or else she'll-"
Before he could finish, Moon Knight gripped his hired thug by the neck and tore him free of all the machines keeping him pinned, handcuffs included.
"I'm worse."The stench of urine filled the air, and Moon Knight realized his fear tactics were doing their job.
"Look at this guy." Marc Spector said, leaning against one of the walls, looking amused at Moon Knight's work. "Acting like he's just seen the devil."
"He's not talking." Steven Grant pointed out, still dressed in his white tuxedo, crescent moon mask pulled down completely over his face. "Make an example out of him." He suggested.
Moon Knight grinned. "He doesn't fear us... not enough. I need to make him afraid."
Jake Lockley appeared between the predator and his prey, unimpressed by the scenario.
"You need to make all of them afraid of you." He decided. "Something that'll really sh!t them up. I can probably handle that."
__________________________________
It was on a busy New York street where Lockley found himself holding a terrified man by the throat. Thousands of cars whizzed by, lights illuminating everything around them.
"Holy crap! You're that Moon guy!" A teenager yelled as Jake held Benny out towards the road. The kid started filming everything on his phone, probably planning to upload it to Youtube or something similar. "This is awesome!"
"What... what are you doing?" Benny asked, bruised and exhausted. He didn't get a chance to hear the reply, as a second later he was tossed out into the middle of the road, where a series of fast moving cars struck him, splattering his parts all across the street.
Jake watched the blood fly and felt proud of his handiwork.
"Making you afraid." He told them, white costume covered in blood. The Moon Knight turned towards the teenager, gripped his wrist and tore the phone out of his grasp. That was when he looked directly into the camera and said his final message. "To everyone in the New York Area. This is a fraction of what will happen to you if you ever mess with my organization." He dropped the device to the ground as the sound of several police cars filled his ears.
"All of you... stay very afraid." He told them.
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