sharp as a blade

Peter was still sitting at his desk, flipping through his papers with half-hearted attention while keeping an eye on the man sleeping in the treatment bed. The steady, even breathing was a good sign.

He took a bite of his chocolate bar, then glanced at the clock. 3 AM. He exhaled slowly and ran a tired hand over his face.

'The Mummy.' That’s what he decided to call him for now until he got his real name. "Mark" was the name for the personality in his head… so he settled on the Mummy.

Besides, he didn’t have the energy to look up his superhero alias right now—not even enough curiosity. Even though he knew he could figure out his identity if he wanted to, he was too tired and way too lazy to put in the effort this late at night.

He cast another glance at the sleeping man The white mask was still in place, but as Peter had expected, the peace didn’t last long.

Moon Knight's body started shifting uneasily. His fingers clenched around the sheets, muscles tensing as if he were being chased by a nightmare in his inner world. He mumbled incomprehensible words, which soon turned into something closer to a pained whimper.

Peter set his glass of water aside and approached cautiously, though he didn’t reach out. He remembered well what had happened when he tried touching him before.

"Hey, Mummy," Peter called in a calm voice, but he got no response.

The muttering continued. Then suddenly, Moon Knight jolted awake, gasping harshly as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His body trembled for a moment before his glowing eyes locked onto Peter.

Several long seconds of silence passed.

Then, in a rough and exhausted voice, Moon Knight asked, "Where am I?"

Peter didn’t move, simply raised his chocolate bar and took another bite, speaking nonchalantly.

"You’re in my clinic. You bled out in an alley, passed out, so I had to save your life. No need to thank me."

Moon Knight didn’t move. He looked around, scanning the room, before turning his gaze back to Peter.

"Why?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why did you save me?"

Peter let out a short chuckle, not particularly surprised by the question. He had heard it thousands of times. Then he pointed at himself with his thumb and said, "Because I’m a doctor. That’s what I do."

Moon Knight fell silent, then looked down at the bandages covering his shoulder and side. He ran his fingers over them slowly, as if confirming they were real. Then, very slowly, he nodded.

"Thanks," he said, his voice barely audible.

Peter didn’t comment, just continued eating his chocolate at a slow pace before speaking through his chewing.

"So, are you going to tell me who you are now? Or should I keep calling you Mummy?"

There was no answer for a few seconds. Then, in a quiet voice, the man said, "Mark."

Peter smirked slightly. "Mark, huh? Alright, Mark, don’t take this personally, but you were a real pain in the ass tonight."

Mark didn’t respond, just lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

For a moment, his eyes seemed empty, as if he were somewhere else, trapped in an internal world where the battle was still ongoing.

Peter noticed. But he didn’t ask.

Instead, he took a sip of water and muttered, "Try to rest, Mark. I’d rather not have to stitch you up again."

Mark didn’t reply, but he closed his eyes slowly.

Peter sighed, then returned to his desk, sitting back in his chair as he glanced at Mark, who was still lying on the bed. He picked up his water bottle and took a sip before speaking in a neutral tone.

"Alright, Mark. Now that I’ve finished saving your life and patching you up like a broken doll, it’s time to talk about the boring part… payment."

Mark didn’t seem surprised, but he raised an eyebrow under his mask.

"Payment?"

"Yes, payment," Peter said, gesturing to himself. "This is a private clinic, Mark. And I just provided you with top-tier medical care. Do you think I work for free? That’s not how this place operates, my friend."

Jake’s rough, irritated voice echoed in Mark’s head,

Ha! I knew it! That bastard didn’t treat us for free! I knew it!

Mark didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at Peter with those blank white eyes for a moment before speaking slowly, coldly.

"I don’t have any money right now."

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "That’s what I expected."

He remained silent for a moment, then pretended to think deeply, as if searching for a solution to this problem.

In truth, he didn’t care much about the money. The man had nearly died in an alley, and Peter wasn’t the type to leave someone bleeding just because they couldn’t pay. But since Mark had tried to choke him hours ago, Peter felt he at least deserved some kind of compensation.

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind.

"I’ve got it."

Mark didn’t like that. "Got what?"

Peter laced his fingers together, resting his elbows on the desk, his tone calm yet carrying genuine curiosity.

"If you can’t pay, you should at least compensate me in another way. I have a question, just out of curiosity. Since you’re… how do I put this… a mix of a superpowered individual and someone with a few psychological issues, have you ever noticed if illnesses merge with superpowers?"

Mark didn’t move.

He just stared at him.

The silence that followed was heavy, but Peter wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, he was enjoying it.

"Is this your way of asking for compensation?" Mark finally said in a dry tone.

"Yes. And for your information, this is way cheaper than a medical bill."

Mark exhaled slowly, then closed his eyes for a moment, as if contemplating how ridiculous this situation was. Then, in a quiet, cold voice, he said

"That’s the strangest question I’ve ever heard from a doctor in my life."

Peter smirked slightly. "Take your time thinking about it, Mark. But I want an answer."

Mark stared at Peter in silence, as if trying to gauge his seriousness.

He hadn’t expected an offer like this, especially after what had happened just hours ago.

Mark lay back quietly, staring at the ceiling as he pondered the bizarre request.

Do illnesses merge with superpowers?

What a question.

He had heard many strange questions in his life, but he never expected this to be one of them. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the voices inside his head.

Jake said, "Mark, don't answer him."

"Why not?"

"Because it's none of his business. He's a doctor, not a scientist in supernatural powers."

Steven, also curious, said, "But, actually, his question is interesting."

Jake sighed tiredly. "Steven, please, don't start."

Mark ignored their internal argument and refocused on Peter, who was looking at him calmly, as if he wasn’t worried about the possibility of being killed in the next minute.

Well, clearly, this guy had no sense of                      self-preservation.

Mark took a deep breath before finally saying, "I don’t know."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You don’t know?"

Mark shifted his aching shoulder slightly and exhaled slowly. "I’ve never thought about it before. I mean, the moon heals me, but it doesn’t heal my head, if that’s what you mean."

Peter raised an eyebrow in surprise, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Moon? What do you mean?"

Mark didn’t open his eyes, but he breathed slowly before answering in a tired voice, "Exactly what I said The moon heals me."

Peter tilted his head slightly, as if trying to analyze the sentence logically, but he found no reasonable scientific explanation. "You're serious?"

Mark opened one eye and lazily stared at Peter. "Do I look like someone with the energy to joke?"

Peter gestured at him with a slight nod. "Well, considering you tried to strangle me an hour ago, I'll assume you're serious."

Mark didn’t respond, just closed his eyes again, while Peter took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "Great… now I have a patient talking about moon healing. Do you have any idea how strange this is for me?"

Mark muttered softly, barely audible, "I don’t care."

Peter let out a short laugh, clear sarcasm in his voice. "Of course you don’t."

Then, as a doctor unable to suppress his curiosity, he asked, "So, is it the light? Energy? Magic? What exactly makes you heal when the moon appears?"

Mark exhaled slowly. "It’s… complicated."

Peter crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Oh no, Mark. You can’t just drop ‘the moon heals me’ and stop at ‘it’s complicated.’ Explain."

Mark remained silent for a moment, then finally said in a low voice, "It's not me who does it. It's… him."

Peter blinked slowly. "Him?"

Mark opened his eyes slightly and looked directly at him. "Khonshu."

Peter kept staring at him, as if trying to determine whether that name was supposed to mean something to him.

Then, after a moment, he muttered, "Well… that just raises more questions."

Then he continued, "So, your condition hasn't changed? No better, no worse?"

Mark stared at him for a moment before saying sharply, "I don’t like it being called a condition."

Peter didn’t back down. "Okay, your plurality—has it been affected?"

Mark didn’t answer immediately. He had tried to avoid thinking about this for a long time. Things were happening inside him that he couldn’t explain. How could something supernatural like Khonshu’s abilities interact with something so deeply human as his fractured mind?

But in the end, he said quietly, "The powers didn’t change me, but they didn’t fix me either."

Peter didn’t look surprised, just nodded, as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind. Mark sighed and turned his head to the other side. "Are you done interrogating me now? Or are you going to ask for a blood sample too?"

Peter, for his part, didn’t seem too interested in responding, just rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully before saying casually

"Huh. Khonshu…"

Then he gave a small smile and said, "Well, I got my answer So, if you're healed, you can leave whenever you want. I’ll give you some medicine to help with recovery—take it daily until your wounds heal… unless you prefer to stay until morning In that case    I can get you breakfast You’re welcome."

Marm blinked twice, surprised by the spontaneous offer. He stayed silent for a moment, then sighed slowly and closed his eyes again, as if he didn’t want to think about it. "I’ll decide later."

Peter didn’t comment, just shrugged indifferently and returned to his desk, as if he hadn’t suggested anything at all.

Marm lay still, unmoving, but he wasn’t asleep. His mind was crowded, as always, with the never-ending voices inside him. He could hear Steven clearly, as worried as ever.

Steven said, "Marm, maybe we should take his offer. We're tired, our wounds are still open."

Mark said, "We’ll be fine, Steven."

Steven said, annoyed, "Yeah, just like all the other times we almost died?"

Mark slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Peter, back at his desk, wasn’t looking at him, but he knew he was still awake.

"Are you thinking about my offer?" Peter asked in a calm tone without lifting his eyes from the papers in front of him.

Marc didn’t reply immediately. Then, in a low voice, he said, "I don’t eat breakfast."

Peter raised an eyebrow, then finally looked at him. "That’s the only part you focused on?"

Mark ignored his comment and slowly moved to sit up on the bed. The pain was still there, but he was used to it. Pain wasn’t new to him—it was a constant companion.

Peter noticed how his muscles tensed for a moment but didn’t comment. Instead, he stood up, walked to a small cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of medicine.

"Well, even if you don’t eat breakfast, you’re taking this."

Mark took the bottle, looked at it for a moment, then raised his eyes to Peter. "Is this necessary?"

"Only if you prefer your wounds to take longer to heal. But hey, maybe the moon will take care of everything, right?" Peter said with light sarcasm as he returned to his desk.

Mark didn’t smile, but he took the medicine anyway.

A few moments of silence passed between them before Peter suddenly spoke, as if throwing out words without deep thought.

"By the way, if you're going to collapse in a dark alley again, pick one closer to my clinic next time."

Marm hid a small, almost invisible smile but didn’t respond, his glowing white eyes scanning the clinic silently.

Peter was at the side table, opening a grocery bag he had left there earlier He pulled out a chocolate bar, tore the wrapper with his teeth, and took a bite while jotting something down in his notebook.

"You eat a lot of chocolate—for a doctor."

Peter didn’t lift his eyes, just chewed slowly and said, "And you talk a lot—for someone who almost died a few hours ago."

Mark, ignoring the pain protesting in his body, looked at the bandages tightly wrapped around his shoulder and side. They were good. Secure. Professional work. He looked up at Peter. "What time is it?"

"Four-thirty in the morning."

Mark exhaled slowly He had slept longer than he expected. His body needed it, but he didn’t like the idea of staying in an unfamiliar place for too long.

Peter closed his notebook and leaned against the table, observing Marc for a moment. Then he said in a neutral tone, as if it didn’t matter much, "So, what’s the decision? Staying for breakfast?"

Marm didn’t respond immediately. Finally, in a quiet voice, he said, "I’ll stay a little longer."

Peter nodded, as if this wasn’t surprising at all.

Then he tossed him another medicine bottle and said, "Take one of these, and I'll get you something to eat. Don't worry, it's not chocolate."

Mark caught the bottle in the air, looked at it for a moment, then set it aside. "Chocolate is fine."

Peter let out a short laugh, then headed to the small kitchen in the clinic. Mark relaxed on the bed, watching the strange doctor who had saved his life.

He leaned against the bed, silently observing the clinic while listening to Peter in the small kitchen. The place wasn’t luxurious, but it was practical, organized, and most importantly… quiet.

A quietness that wasn’t familiar to him.

Peter returned after a few minutes, carrying a plate, which he placed on the side table next to Marc. "Eggs, toast, and some fruit. No meat, because I wasn’t planning on feeding unexpected guests tonight."

Mark looked at the food, then at Peter. "Do you expect me to eat this?"

"Go ahead, or don’t, I don’t care." Peter said, then sat on the nearby chair, opening another chocolate bar.

Marm didn’t move for a few moments, then took a piece of toast without comment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a normal meal on a morning like this.

Peter watched him for a moment, then said, "So… is this morning just a break before you go back to your nightly fights?"

Mark didn’t respond immediately. He chewed a small bite, then said, "It’s not fighting."

"Oh? Then what do you call it?"

Mark leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"Fixing mistakes."

Peter let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "Fixing mistakes?

No one fixes things like this without creating new mistakes."

Mark didn’t comment. He had no prepared response for that.

Peter raised an eyebrow, then said with genuine curiosity, "But I wonder… is all of this because of Khonshu? Or because of you?"

Mark hadn’t expected that question, and Peter noticed how he froze for a moment, then how his eyes narrowed as if trying to analyze the intent behind his words.

"What are you trying to say?"

Peter tossed the chocolate wrapper into the trash, then clasped his fingers together and said calmly, "I'm saying some people fight because they were forced to, and some fight because they want to. Which one are you?"

Mark continued to stare at him. He had finished half of his breakfast, which was enough. Then he slowly stood up. The pain hadn’t completely gone, but he could move now.

"I think I’ll be going now…"

Peter didn’t seem disappointed, he just shrugged    "As you wish. But take the medicine with you."

Moon Knight stopped in his place and looked at Peter, speaking quietly and curiously, "I never asked… What’s your name?"

"It’s Doctor Parker."

Doctor Parker, huh? Then Moon Knight took the medicine bottle without comment, putting on his tattered cloak. Before leaving, he paused for a moment at the door without turning around.

"I don’t fight because I want to."

Peter didn’t respond, only watched him silently.

Then, in a low voice, Moon Knight added, "But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it sometimes."

Then he left, leaving Peter, who snorted, smiled, and returned to his routine.