“Hello. I am Mr. Knight. Welcome to the Midnight Mission. How can I help?” Moon Knight asked, sitting on a throne with his legs crossed. He was focused, eerily so. He had a presence that took over the room. His room. He was patient. He was strong. He was confident. You tried looking at him, past his thick, white mask he wore to hide himself from the world, afraid of the aspects of his life he could not control, perhaps, but his features were completely obscured; replaced by the ominous shine of moonlight.
You had heard of him how everyone heard of him. He was a wanted criminal, a vigilante, a symbol of fear to anyone he didn’t want to protect. He was strong, he was smart. And yet, he was human, with the same genetic makeup as you and everyone you knew.
He protected travelers of the night, saving them from the beasts of the underworld. It was his purpose. He was not only the highest priest of Khonshu, but the fist of the God himself.
“Hello.” You greeted, sitting in the chair he offered you. It was worn, despite the Mission only having been operating for months. The amount of people, scared, alone, and in need of help that had sat there tore off the paint, leaving the imprint of the weak behind. You were scared, alone, and in need of help too. It took everything you had to string two words together without stumbling and stuttering.
You tried speaking again, this time hoping to get out your words completely. “My home, it uh, it was stolen, Mr. Knight. Three, God, maybe four men? I- They broke past my locks, he stole my things. One of- one of them shoved me, and-“ You paused, the memory of the incident gripping you. Images flashed through your mind, images of sin you wanted purged from your very being.
“Go on, trust me. They cannot hurt you here, not in the walls of my home.” He said, encouraging you to finish the story. You looked at him, truly believing he wanted to help. You shouldn’t be afraid, you shouldn’t be timid. But after the night you had had, it wasn’t a choice.
“It seems impossible.” You admitted. He nodded. A man like him had seen the impossible. He was the impossible.
“Everything seems that way. To a man living one-hundred years ago, the phone in your pocket would seem so. To us now, the impossible becomes challenged every second. You have to remember the age we live in now. The Age of Marvels, it all seems impossible, doesn’t it? The Avengers, the X-Men, even me, I’m sure. But especially the ghosts and ghouls that have been swept under the pathetic rug of myth for the past thousand years. Impossible no longer means what it once did. It cannot hold the same meaning after all it has been through. It now is a term used for little more than for the weak-minded to cling on to their expectations of a reality that no longer exists. Don’t let it make you afraid.”
You nodded. “His eyes turned red and he revealed his sin. His teeth distorted, like a vampire. He drank the blood from my cat. Then they-they slit my wrists and took turns licking the blood.”
Tears had begun slipping past your eyes, as you remembered the pain you had endured just recently. Your stomach twisted in knots, and your brain returned to its jittery, post-traumatic state. Your voice had started as determined, but quickly as you spoke it turned hysterical.
He stood up from his seat, walking towards you, or rather towards the door.
“Do not worry. I will handle it.” He said. If there was any emotion in his voice, it was indiscernible.
“I-“ You tried to speak again, trying to ask what he would do, trying to thank him, trying to say anything, all while gasping for air.
Nothing made it out.
He paused, placing his hand on your shoulder. You didn’t look at each other. You couldn’t look at each other.
“You will be safe here. The monsters you speak of, as real as they are, cannot reach into these walls. My walls.” He said. He spoke like he was giving a warning, not to you, but to the creatures of the night, his night, that had dared to hurt you.
You looked up at him, staring at his blank, white face. Staring at the crescent moon etched into the forehead of his mask. Staring at the light emitting from his eyes. Your gaze trailed down his suit, landing on his right hand, which was tightly balled up into a fist. He was a symbol. A symbol of hope, creating a bastion for the fearful. Isn’t that every priest, though? He is just carrying out the terms of his faith as a humble servant of his God, as any priest would. He may have once lived a flashier life, he may have once been an Avenger. But he was a man who only aimed to serve his God, no matter how he felt about him.
“Will you be safe?” You asked him, knowing the answer already. You hated the idea of anyone, even a superhero, going into harm’s way for your sake.
But you had come here for that reason, hadn’t you?
He removed his hand from your shoulder, walking to the door.
“I will handle it.”
He didn’t return for another day. Your wrists were examined by someone who didn’t speak. You were told to sleep in a dusty, unused room, with walls decorated in white. The room creeped you out, everything creeped you out. But it was a gift, and you were eternally grateful.
Sleep never came, or you had never called it. When your eyes would close, images of the men, the vampires, would flash in your mind. When silence fell over the room, their voices, no, their laughs would play like broken records. Over, and over, and over again.
You spent the night hiding under the covers of the bed, humming songs of comfort to yourself, praying that the madness would end. You were trapped in your mind, in an insanity that hadn’t been there a day ago. Your life was changing in ways you had only feared it could.
When the sun rose, you stared out of the window, into the street below. Whenever you blinked, the streets turned red with blood and you relived it all over again. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the delusion. You couldn’t. Like a car wreck, it was impossible to turn your eyes away.
The sun had fallen down the other side of the sky by the time your delusions started fading. You kept waiting, wondering if you would see those terrors again. But the streets belonged to the moon now, and even your mind was protected by Khonshu in this place.
“I hear you’ve been quiet today.”
You turned your head, seeing Mr. Knight standing in your door frame. You hadn’t heard the door click or creak, but you hadn’t heard much of anything in hours.
Your senses came rushing back to you the second he appeared. The room was darker than you thought it was, with a small hum of electricity. It smelled like blood, blood and orchids. The air tasted like stale coffee, and the bed you were on felt uncomfortably damp.
You hadn’t really looked at him before, not beyond the suit, but Mr. Knight was handsome. He had a commanding presence, an attractive physique.
Were you seriously attracted to a priest? A supposedly insane one at that?
“Those men, those monsters, have been dealt with. You are safe now.” He told you. His eyes fell from your eyes to your arm, eyebrows furrowing with concern.
You followed his glance. The dampness you felt wasn’t sweat, but blood. One of your stitches was torn open, and you hadn’t noticed.
“Oh.” You said. “I’m sorry.”
He walked in the room, right in front of you, kneeling down to see your arm.
“Don’t apologize. The sheets are an easy fix. You’re what I’m worried about.”
He took a moment to inspect the injury, feeling your arm carefully with gloved hands. He left the room soon after with few words, returning in minutes with a medicinal kit.
“This will hurt.” He said. You nodded in understanding, watching numbly as he sewed your skin back together. It hurt, but you couldn’t feel it. Everything felt distant, and you despised that feeling. You wanted to be better, you wanted the pain to end, physically and mentally. You wondered why you had been forsaken, what you had done to deserve a punishment made of such sin.
When he finished, the ache dulled, and you looked at his eyes, still covered by the mask. You wanted nothing more than to stare into them.
“Thank you, Mr. Knight. You have been really, very kind to me.” You said. “I don’t know how I can repay you.” If you could repay him.
He smiled, moving to sit on the bed next to you, staring out of the same window you had looked out of all day.
“Call me Marc. There is no need to repay me. I am a priest, and my only goal is to help travelers of the night, any way I can.”
You nodded. “You’re selfless. Thank you so much, for everything you have done for me.” You said, almost bringing yourself to tears.
“I do what I can for those that need protection. You need protection. Your mind is in decay, and until it fully heals you are welcome to stay in the mission. I know your home isn’t the place you want to be right now.”
You didn’t know what it was about his offer that finally broke you down completely. The kindness, maybe, or maybe it was just the feeling that there was someone who could see your pain and understand it. It was pathetic, how obvious your fear was. But it was almost comforting to be afraid.
You nodded, breaking into sobs. You put your head in your hands, ignoring the pain that came with moving your wrists.
You felt his hand on your back, rubbing deep circles into your back. “It’ll be okay.” He said. “You’re safe now. There isn’t a single thing you need to fear.”
He held onto you, knowing you would fall infinitely far if he let you go. You didn’t know how long you spent crying, but by the time you finished your eyes stung and your cheeks were sticky.
“Are you okay?” Marc asked. You nodded.
“I needed that.” You admitted, wiping away the tears that clung to your eyes. “God, I’m sorry. It’s so selfish, you should be helping people, protecting the travelers of the night. I’m sorry, Marc.”
He shook his head. “I am helping people, just not with my fists. If something required my attention, I would have known. I’m here because I want to be.”
You wanted to know what was the source of such a man. What gave birth to a hero so tainted by reality? You admired him, truly, for being the man you wished the world followed in the footsteps of. You wanted to know why. People spoke of him with fear. Always with fear. You had heard legends of a man who carved the moon into his enemies’s faces. A man who cut criminal’s faces off. A man who was utterly and entirely insane.
This was not that man. And you needed to know why.
You smiled, looking at him, into the eyes of his mask. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He said.
“Why do you do it? What started it? What changed?” You asked. “You don’t have to answer, obviously.”
“I died.” He said, looking at you directly. His voice dropped from the airy hill of politeness it had once been on, falling to severity.
“What?” You asked, begging for clarification. How could a man die? Is it a metaphor? How could a man die and be right in front of you? Was your savior a ghost?
“By a statue of Khonshu, I died. My God saved my life, putting me in his debt. I was evil when he found me. And he was too. We were perfect for each other. But times change. I changed, Khonshu did not. A priest estranged from his God. I cannot repay my debt to Khonshu, but I can work to reverse what I’ve done. I… I saw the afterlife. I saw it, and I saw the suffering I caused, and I still went on to cause it. My change of heart was not caused by some sort of righteousness, it was caused by those around me who possessed it.” He sighed, looking away again.
“I am an evil man, reaching for the stars and hoping to grab the one that will make me good.” He said.
“Oh.” You softly hummed. You were processing the story, slowly, but surely. “I don’t think you’re an evil. I believe you, that you were, but if you have changed, if you are trying to be better, that makes you good. It’s a strange concept, isn’t it? It isn’t even real, good once meant royalty. And when times changed, good meant the absence of evil. Now it’s subjective, defined entirely by your own actions and perceptions. In my perceptions, Marc, you’re good.”
He shook his head. “You have no idea the things I have done. The things my hands have done, the words my mouth has said, the blood that my body has shed. You only know the good, not the unforgivable. Not the ugly.”
You ran your fingers through your hair, staring down at your legs, noticing how yours had begun pressing on his. “I don’t need to. In my eyes, you’re selfless. Isn’t that strange? You can believe you’re evil, everyone can believe you’re evil. But when judgement day comes, you will have someone believe you’re good.”
“You’re deluded. Seeing good in me is like seeing good in the vampires who invaded your home. The good you see is a consequence of my eternal servitude. You have no idea what I am capable of.”
“I’ve heard the stories. Stories warning of a madman named Moon Knight, forever on a rampage with no end. And now I see him, and I can’t see what the storyteller’s meant. All I see is a man who would do anything if it could help someone in need. I mean, do you ever even take time for yourself? A small break from your eternal punishment?”
He looked away, back out through the window.
Your heart skipped about a thousand beats before he responded.
“Not for a long time.” He finally admitted. “It is my justice, a consequence for my vice. The punishment is self-inflicted. The moon is my God, but it is also my demon.”
“Just because you see evil in yourself, does not mean you should rid yourself of your humanity. You deserve more. I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’ve done. But the more you try to convince me you’re evil, the more good I see.”
He stood up, fixing his suit as he did, not looking at you.
“You’re right, you don’t know me. Don’t try to. It’ll only get you killed.” He said, walking out of the room. The shut the door quietly, only sparing a single, rushed glance as he left.
You sat alone, in a pool of discontentment and pain. You waited for the pool to drain, with your arms and legs full of led, unable to swim for air. You were drowning, slowly, painfully, waiting to be saved by no one.
Someone came in to change your bedding. You sat and watched as they silently did so, before leaving once more.
There was a record player in the room. You didn’t know when it had gotten there, as you hadn’t seen it before, but you had just found it, sitting on a shelf you hadn’t looked at before. A stack of records, some new, some old, sat next to it. You flipped through, searching the old names and titles, before deciding on a Sinatra record calling your name.
The music filled the room like a crisp breath of air, bringing comfort through the old smooth voice of Frank Sinatra. You found yourself back in bed, as the music pushed the images of your burden out of your mind, and you finally fell asleep.
—
You had found a staircase to the rooftop, long and daunting in nature, with steps made of concrete in a small, empty room with no air conditioning. You walked up, still unable to shake last night’s conversation out of your mind. With each step, in fact, the thoughts only got louder.
When you reached the final step, opening the heavy door, the night’s air welcomed you with a warm breeze. You walked out, looking at the towering buildings around you and smelling the smoke in the air. Despite all the change it had been through since your upbringing, it was home. The buildings only got taller, but they were built on a foundation of wet cement you had carved your name into with a stick and a rock a decade ago.
You rounded the corner, looking for a place to rest your eyes, when you saw him. Marc, in entirely different dressing. Instead of the suit he had adorned so proudly, he was dressed in the robes you had seen in the papers, the ones warning you that he was a dangerous man.
Instead of running the other way, afraid of what he would do when he saw you, you stood next to him.
“Nice night, isn’t it?” You said. He nodded, unfazed by your presence.
“You can thank Khonshu for that. The moon shines extra bright in the home of his avatar. The moment you leave the mission, his signal fades into science.” He explained. You nodded, staring at the face in the moon.
“I’m sorry for last night. I shouldn’t have pried. I was just-“
“Curious.” He said, cutting you off. “It’s normal, to want to know why I do what I do. Why I chose to be some grotesque freak of the night. A caricature of good.”
The way he said it threw you off. He was angry. It was the first time you had seen him angry. Angry and annoyed.
“I was going to say I was concerned, Marc.” You tried to defend yourself, but he spoke again.
“Sure you are. Everyone is. Concerned enough to try and squeeze every ugly detail out of us, to give out to the world. You’re the real case here, you all are. You’re all the same. I might be evil, but you? You’re fucking corrupt.”
He hadn’t even looked at you, not as he ripped you apart. You turned back, walking to the door. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, going over his words in your head. He didn’t sound the same as he did the night before. You wanted to believe something happened, something that caused this, but maybe he was right. Maybe you caused it.
Right as you got to the door, he called out to you. “Wait!”
His voice had changed. It was the same as it had been before, lighter, kinder. The tone was different when you had spoken just now, and the syntax as well. It confused you, enough to get you to stop, but not to turn around. You crossed your arms, stiffening your back and hoping he would back off.
“I am so sorry. That— That wasn’t me, I swear. Nothing that was said was true, I swear to you. Nothing.”
You let him catch up to you. His suit was back on, replacing the robes he wore to deliver his justice. You frowned as he turned to face you.
“Who was it, then?” You asked. You cringed as your tears leaked into your voice.
A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. You were unsure whether to believe whatever he said next or not.
“It… It was someone inside of me. A product of my shattered being. He doesn’t come back much anymore, I don’t let him. But he exists nonetheless.”
You shook your head. “So you have people inside of your head? Is it another one of Khonshu’s curses? Another cross you must bear? Another evil that presents itself in a way that the blame cannot possibly fall to you?”
He got closer. “It isn’t like that-“
“Marc, you owe me nothing. I know that what I witnessed made me seem timid, but I will not stand here and let you lie to me to avoid whatever consequence might exist for your actions.” You huffed. “Your kindness is something I will never take for granted, but whatever this is, it’s something I refuse to take at all.”
He shook his head, stepping close again. You were going to give him one more chance to explain himself, before you would see if your could bring yourself to leave the mission. Anger wouldn’t deter your fear, no matter how much you hoped for it to do so.
“I understand your hesitation. I have D.I.D, a split personality disorder. I don’t bring it up often. The other people on my head are very real, as much as I am, it’s my body, and it’s my life.”
He looked down at you, a near head taller and so close that you could see the fear past his mask.
“You have D.I.D?” You asked, processing. He nodded. “And that was one of the alternate personalities in your body?” You asked. He nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He asked. This time, you nodded. “You believe me?”
“I have no reason not to. I trust you.” You said. He smiled.
“Not a thing he said about you was true.” He said, putting his hands on the sides of your shoulders. “You are amazing. Scarily so. I don’t think I can remember a time when someone cared about me as much as you have. And we just met, which makes me think it’s just your nature. No one has asked about my well-being, or truly believed that I could be good in an infinity. I left last night, not out of anger, but of fear. Even in your hardest moments, you care. You are like the sun, you radiate warmth and light and energy. You radiate good. No one can help but to want to bask in your light.”
Your eyes widened. Your heart must have been beating a thousand miles a second, as if it was trying to break through your chest.
“You deserve more people caring about you, Marc. You are good. You burden yourself with your mistakes, but to a stranger, you have lended your power, your home, your guidance, and your history. I shouldn’t be your sun. I should be but a star in a universe so grand that I seem dim.” You said.
He looked at you, almost as if your words were completely absurd, but you continued, finding truth in the poetry that fell from your mouth.
“You are the moon. Yes, you have a dark side. You have sides that no one has seen, you have craters where others have crashed. But you protect others from the evil surrounding you, a bastion of light in a sea of darkness. A world of good to protect those trapped in a universe of evil.”
His hands dropped to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Butterflies circled around in your stomach. Whatever happened next, you wanted it.
“You see the best in people.” He said.
“I only see you.” You said.
“You’re naive.” He argued.
“Perhaps.”
You raised your hands, hesitantly placing them on the sides of his face. Slowly, your thumbs dug under the mask, feeling his skin for the first time. You waited for him to stop you, as you raised the mask to his chin. His skin was tan and littered with scars, and his chin was sharp, with a little stubble growing. As you went further, you revealed a pair of thick, pink lips, ones that played the song of a beautiful voice. He had a few freckles on this cheeks, and deep bags under his eyes.
You paused right under his eyelids. If he wanted to protest the reveal of his identity, you would give him the chance. You would roll the mask back down, and forget everything you had seen.
He didn’t protest. He didn’t move, or breathe, or do anything except tighten his grip around you. Butterflies circles around in your stomach, nervous and excited all at the same time.
His eyes were dark and piercing, trained on yours. They were intense, carrying the soul of a man who had died. A messy, brown mop of hair fell out of the mask, perfectly framing his face. The mask popped behind his ears, and there he was, completely. Not just half a face, half a picture, not a voice behind a mask, but a full person.
You tucked the mask in his pocket, staring into his eyes. His beautiful eyes that a good man possessed. The look he had only confirmed your belief. He was not only a good man, but a force of good itself.
“You’re handsome.” You said, eyes still locked with his.
“You’re gorgeous.” He said, leaning his head down. His lips opened slightly, and yours did to, as your head tilted up.
You met in the middle, lips locking in a moment of pure bliss. Your heart was beating so fast it burst, and everything seemed so perfect you couldn’t comprehend it. You leaned further up into the kiss, one of your feet rising slightly to give you the extra bit of height.
And with that, you kissed. It was simple, but intimate. Bliss is the only word that could describe what you felt. It felt right, like you were two fated lovers that had been searching for their destiny for an eternity.
When the moment was over you both pulled away, unable to take your eyes off of each other. You remembered the night being cold just minutes earlier, but now you were so warm that your cheeks were tinted red and you almost broke a sweat.
“You’re a good kisser.” You said, unsure of how else to break the silence that was set to follow such an astounding event.
He grinned.
“I’m nothing compared to you, I’m afraid.” He said. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist.
“I think you underestimate yourself.” You said, staring off into the skyline.
You felt him rest his head on yours, holding you as tightly as you could ever want him to.
“So do you.” He said. You felt the vibrations of his vocal cords transfer onto your skin, causing a burst of warmth to run through your body.
“Should we try again, then?” You asked, pulling away to face him once more. He wore a large smile, one that you loved seeing already.
“That’s not a bad idea.” He said, leaning down to continue what you had begun earlier.
You broke out into a smile, preparing to make another quip, but his lips touched yours quickly.
He took your breath away.