8284/A Test for the Fist

A Test for the Fist
Date of Scene:	17 October 2021
Location:	A Derelict Temple in Egypt
Synopsis:	Moon Knight travels to the place of his creation and is tested in both resolve and self-restraint by the one who gives him strength.
Cast of Characters:	Marc Spector, Jonathan Sims

---

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight didn't know why he was flying to Egpyt. He didn't know what the catalyst was that drew him inexorably across the desert sands. But he knew where he was going and he knew it was important. He wouldn't be in the sky if it wasn't.

    The dream had come upon him the night before. Mountains of the dead piling upon a light so bright it overwhelmed even the sun. He was digging through the corpse pile, desperately trying to salvage the light underneath. Desperately trying to keep it from being snuffed out. But he wasn't strong enough. The bodies just kept coming and endless wave. Eventually the light was gone and the mountain of bodies overwhelmed even him, suffocating him; crushing him.

    He awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and he knew what he needed to do. To keep that light from going out, he needed something that was in Egypt. In the Temple where he was first made into the Fist of Khonshu.

    It was a simple thing. Steven made a call cancelling plans he had made for the evening. Jake had called in a favor from one of the other cabbies to cover his shift. And his old friend Frenchie would see that the Mission was still open and accepting to all who needed the comfort of Mr. Knight. Then he hopped in the Moon Copter (a glorified name for his experimental hypersonic VTOL and set off for Egpyt.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The moon hangs gibbous overhead in the depths of the desert night. The Tomb of Pharaoh Seti, just on the Sudan side of the border with Egypt, is hard to find unless you know what to look for. Odd holes in the ground, the entrance a mere doorway set above the desert, covering the stairway leading down. The true extravagance is beneath.

    The sand stirred up by the Moon Copter's blades whips about as if in a miniature sandstorm, only settling when the Fist of Khonshu turns off his vehicle. The entrance to the tomb beckons. What awaits him there? What is there yet that Khonshu has not shown him?

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight steps out of the vehicle and stares at the entrance to the tomb. His tomb after a fashion. He did die there, and was reborn as he is now. He shakes his head. No point in dwelling on what was. Answers were within and that's what he seeks. Answers.

    He crosses the threshold of the entrance and immediately activates the enhanced darkvision in his mask, giving him a view of what has become of the tomb of the Pharoh Seti in the near decade since he left it last. He isn't expecting any threats. Even still, he withdraws one of the crecent darts from his belt, holding it at the ready should something *actually* be there that would want to harm him.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    There is nothing there in the darkness but Moon Knight himself.

    Which does not mean he is alone.

    The tomb is much as it was when he first came here, when he died and was placed below the statue of Khonshu. Hieroglyphs on the walls, statues in alcoves. Everything is the same...

    Until he gets to the gallery just before the room where the statue lies. There, moonlight streams through five holes in the ceiling, lining the gallery. And standing in the first pillar of moonlight... is Moon Knight himself.

    An illusion? A vision? Is he actually psychotic, like so many therapists have told him with the exception of the most recent, and last?

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight raises the dart. "Name yourself!" he says, his voice booming and echoing in the chamber. The demand reverberates back at him uncounted times. "You wear my face. But you are not me. That much I am certain. Name yourself!"

    Is he? Is he so certain? Things had been getting better before the dream. His condition was maintaining itself. The lives he led were self-aware and seperate.

    But the dream was so vivid and here he is, stanidng in a tomb that he all but forgot about. Isn't this madness, haring off after answers he isn't even sure exist?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You know my name," the apparition replies. And then there's a pause. "Or do you? /Do/ you know who is beneath this mask?"

    There is a pause. "Name /yourself/. You have come to this tomb. Name yourself."

Marc Spector has posed:
    "I am the Moon Knight. The Fist of Khonshu" Moon Knight bellows. "You stand on the ground sacred to the Pathfinder and you wear his vestments, but you are not him nor his speaker. That title is mine."

    He steps forward, drawing closer to the figure. Is it an apparition? Or a trick of his mind? The former should not harm him. The latter... he isn't so sure.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The figure steps back, three steps, until he stands beneath the next ray of light. "Are you?" he asks. "Step into the light, and prove yourself. Step into the light, and speak your true name."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight hesitates only a moment. If this is a test, either of his own mind or of Khonshu's will, then he will pass it.

    Stepping into the light he pulls back the hood of his cloak wand removes the mask covering his face. His is a nondescript face, handsome though worn with the ravages of what he has done and seen. It shows mostly around his eyes. He speaks out into the darkness. "I am Marc Spector. He who has died and been raised by the Traveller. Chosen to act as his agent on this plane."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The light over him snaps out, disappears as if sand has fallen over the hole above.

    "You are Marc Spector, but you are not the one beneath the mask." What does /that/ mean? "You are the dark of the moon, when the there is no light to guide the path. You are the one without a title, the one believed dead, your /ren/ weak in the world."

    The other Moon Knight takes three steps back, and points to the pillar of light he had just been in. "Step forward, and tell me your name."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc frowns. But tests are not always easy to understand, especially not at first. He shakes his head but complies with the visage's instructions. Stepping forward he feels something *else* creep over him and he isn't Marc Spector anymore.

    Steven Grant steps into the pillar of light. His face isn't any different (which is unusual) but there is a confidence in him that speaks volumes. "I am Steven Grant" he says to the appartition. "I fund the enterprises that ensure Moon Knight is able to fulfill his task as a protector of the people."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The other Moon Knight nods. "You are the crescent moon, when cattle become fertile, when children are conceived, when every nostril and throat is filled with fresh air. You are the Traveller. But you are not the one beneath the mask."

    He stepped back, into the fourth pillar of light. "Step forward, and tell me your name."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Steven inclines his head politely to the figure and steps from the now-dark pillar. As he proceeds forward he feels the change take over and pulls the mask back over his face.

    Mr. Knight steps into the newly lit pillar and speaks to the vision. "I am Mr. Knight. Those who flock to my Mission are taken in and given succor from the hardships that befall them." A pause. "Should their trials prove to require a more deliberate hand, I pass their plight to the Moon Knight so that he may mete out justice as he sees fit."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Moon Knight nods. "You are the half-moon, perfectly balanced. You /should/ be the space between Moon Knight and Marc Spector." Is he implying Mr. Knight isn't, somehow? "You /should/ be the balance, the fulcrum, the point where all tips between dark and light. You are the Embracer."

    Another three steps back, into the last pillar of light. "Step forward, and tell me your name."

Marc Spector has posed:
    There is a tightening around Mr. Knight's eyes as he listens to the words of the apparition. He *is* that balance. Isn't he? He thought he was but perhaps he's been mistaken all this time? He proceeds forward to the next pillar, stripping the mask from his face and falling back into the darkness of their shared space as he feels another come forward to be judged.

    Jake Lockely steps into the light. He wants to shove his hands in his pockets, but this silly outfit doens't even have those. Rather impractical, in his opinion. Still he rolls his shoulders before addressing the spectre before him. "Jake Lockely. If things on the street get too crazy for the common folk to handle, I tip things off to the one who might be able to set it right. Moon Knight." His accent marks him from Chicago, his attitude marks him from the streets, his posture marks him as uncomfortable, but he stands and waits for his part in this to be over.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You are the gibbous moon, the last rage of the bull before it is neutered. You are rage and violence, you are anger. You are the one they are all frightened of. You are the Pathfinder."

    A pause, and then Moon Knight says, "You are the one beneath the mask."

    What?!

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jake shakes his head. "You've got that all wrong. I'm just a bagman. A go between. I ain't no...." He grabs at the cape and tugs at it a bit. "Too fancy for me. I'll hold my own in a fight, sure, but I don't need no suit to do it."

    Even as he spoke the words, he could feel the lie in them. All the rage that he holds on to. The pain of the streets. He had to step up and fix it. And if that rage needed a face and a name, Moon Knight was already there. He could use it. He could take down the rapists. The murderers. Thin the gangs to a manageable level. And the vampires. He hated the blood sucking fiends who stalked people and ate them. He could hunt down the ones that needed to be staked... and end them.

    So he did.

    He became Moon Knight. It was still separate, it always would be, but the motivation. The violence. The killing. The blood. That was Jake's. The territory. That was Jake's. The *justice.* That was Jake's.

    He looks at the apparition. "Yeah... alright. You got me. So what? Does it matter? I'm still taking down the bad guys. Still helping people."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "That is not your role," Moon Knight says. "That is not why I chose /Marc/ to be my Fist. You have your purpose, and your life, but this?" He taps his chest. "This is not yours."

    He reaches out a hand, as if to grasp at something. "Moon Knight is a defender. Not a murderer. He is driven by /ma'at/, not by hate and anger. If you will not relinquish the role back to Marc... I will /take it/ from you. All of you."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jake stares at the other Moon Knight for a moment and spreads his hands. "What do you want me to do? It's not like we can just shift it all around. Besides, Marc's not doing enough out there. The streets get worse every day. More violence. More crime. He can't be everywhere at once. He doesn't see what I do. Know what I know." His tone is petulant. Like a child being told he can't have a specific toy that he's enamoured with.

    "You say give it back to him?" he says breathlessly. "I say he doesn't deserve it! Helping the occasional come along isn't going to *fix* things. Can't stop a flood with pebbles. You need a dam. *I* am that dam."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You are meant to defend those who walk the night!" Moon Knight shouts. He clenches his fist. "You are meant to kill those who /deserve/ it! Not those you hate, not those you /dislike/. Those judged unworthy by the gods!"

    There's a pull in Jake's chest. The suit, being pulled away. Pulled off.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jake stumbles forward a bit at the jerk. "What are you?" He reaches up to grab at the suit. "You can't just... take it... that's not... that's not fair!" His words echo back at him over and over. "And... I can't give it back" he pleads. "I don't know how. It's not like a switch I can just turn on and off."

    But it was, wasn't it? Just let go and let Marc come back. It was simple and they did it all the time. Switching in and out was child's play. That's how their lives were so separate. All he had to do was let go of the power and give it back to Marc. But... that meant giving it up.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I AM KHONSHU."

    It's no longer Moon Knight standing there, but Khonshu, the god, in robes and headdress and carrying the moon staff.

    He's still pulling, pulling. The fabric of the Moon Knight suit is ripping.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Jake drops to a knee to try and weather the onslaught pulling on him. "No! I...I...We need it..." Was he talking to the apparition of something else? His voice cracks and Marc's comes through. "It's... mine. I have to carry it. I was the one chosen and so I have to be the one to carry the burden."

    Another shift. "But you aren't fixing things" Jake replied.

    "It's not about *fixing* it's about *helping*. Protecting" Marc replies. "Going out and slaughtering every bad guy doesn't protect anyone. It just makes everyone afraid of you. You can't protect people who cower in fear at your very name. Don't you get it?"

    Another shift. "Better that they cower in their houses than die on the street."

    Shift.

    "And that is why you cannot have the power, Jake" Marc says. "You're too angry. Too focused on the damage. And not the solution."

    Shift.

    "And what is the solution, huh? We just let people die?"

    Shift.

    "No!" Marc exclaims, pushing himself to his feet despite the tearing of the suit. "You let them make a choice. You let them come to you for help."

    He holds out his hands and allows the power of Khonshu wash over him, to do as it will with the power. To make a choice.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Khonshu nods once, and then disappears.

    "Step forward," the voice echoes through the gallery, "and tell me your name."

Marc Spector has posed:
    As he steps forward Marc puts on the mask once more and pulls the hood up over his head, hiding his features further in the shadows of the hood. This done he feels the internal mask taking shape, coming over him fully. He stops where the appartition had been amd says, his voice confident and strong, "I am the Moon Knight. The Defender of the people who walk in the night." He looks up at the ceiling of the gallery and calls out, louder than before. "I am the Fist of Khonshu!"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The words echo in the gallery, and the moonlight comes bursting through the openings in the ceiling again.

    The way is clear, through to the room with the statue of Khonshu where Marc first took up this burden.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight inhales and lets the breath out slowly. He nods at the pillars of light beaming through to the gallery and continues forward to the room where the statue, a collosus of a figure that dwarfs the one he has at the Midnight Mission, waits. He looks up at it, the light of the moon illuminating the mask under the hood.

    "I am your instrument" he says reverently. "I lost myself in the darkness and for that I apologize. I have found your light once more and will walk the true path illuminated by your will."

    "I came seeking answers for the questions of my dream." He looks down and around the main hall. "But I am still uncertain if I have been given those answers or if there were questions I was asking that even I was unaware of."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The moonlight falls to illuminate a spot at the base of the statue, one the archaeologists had never noticed before. Is there... a compartment of some sort in there?

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight's eyes narrow at the compartment. "That's... odd..." he says moving forward and lifting what looks like a lid, or a small door. "How was this never discovered before?" he asks the seemingly empty tomb.

    Inside is a crescent made of a black material. It's not glass or metal or fabric. It seems to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

    He picks it up and notices that it matches the dimensions of the crescent on his own chestpiece. "Is this an answer? Or just another piece of the puzzle?" he asks, placing the crescent upon the one already there. There is a click as it snaps into place and the suit changes.

    Black shoots through the composite fabric of the white suit, tendrils snaking through and over the white, covering it with more of the light absorbing material. With the color change comes a strange mottling of the material. It takes on a more of a veiny appearance, roots and vines raising over the musculature of the suit.

    The black shoots through the mask and over the cape, putting him fully in the darkness and there is a sort of pressure over his eyes as if his vision is being augmented to see *beyond* the realm that they are used to. He puts a hand to his eyes to make sure they aren't damage and shakes his head. "What... what is this?" he asks, looking up at the statue for explanation.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "The blood of so many is on your hands," comes Khonshu's voice. "You can bring that into balance by helping those who have already been killed. Use this wisely and well."

    And then: "The Spark of the Light is in danger. The Constant One requires your aid. Find him. Be my fist."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight looks up at the sky to the moon and nods. "It will be as you say" he says, his voice confident once more. He turns and stalks out of the gallery and then out of the tomb. He had a mage to find and a necromancer to help destroy.