2 - Moon Lander
Moon Lander
Marc Spector was Moon Knight, Fist of Khonshu. He used to be a few other things as well: a mercenary, a cab driver, a millionaire, and a few different superheroes at one point.
But that’s all behind him now.
After his recent adventure through a mental asylum that called into question who he was, he came to terms with his other selves and forsook Khonshu.
Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the Moon, breathed new life into Marc Spector as he lay dead before his statue in a temple dedicated to him. Since then, when Marc rose and covered himself with the ceremonial shroud covering the statue, he has also been Moon Knight. Until now.
Marc discovered that Khonshu was using him and taking advantage of his already fragmented mind to usurp his body. Marc overcame Khonshu and came to realize an important aspect about himself: he is insane, he is broken, but he doesn’t need Khonshu to make him whole.
Marc gave up the mantle of Moon Knight, but not the goal that once guided him. Now he merely goes by Mr. Knight, a man dedicated to protecting travelers of the night using his wits, contacts, gadgets, and propensity for violence.
The mansion floorboards creaked under Marc Spector's shoes as he slipped off his bloodied mask and traced his way to his favorite chair through the darkness. He was wearing his Moon Knight costume, or what was left of it. Tonight had been particularly eventful if one were to judge by the abundant slashes, rips, tears, scuffs, and bumps decorating Marc’s suit and body. Despite the morning sun casting light on the mansion, the opaque curtains made sure the inside stayed in a perpetual nighttime only lit by a few slivers of light escaping from the edges of the drapes. This was Marc’s usual routine. When he wasn't beating senseless those who would harm the innocent, he would often be found sitting in his living room having discussions with his other selves and occasionally Khonshu.
He didn't have a television, computer, or even a radio; most of his gadgets were in his auto-driving limousine. The mansion was sparsely furnished, and what little he had was covered by white sheets and heavy layers of dust. Between an attic and basement filled to the brim with ancient Egyptian artifacts and forgotten relics either won or bought through fist or fortune was a barren lodging that looked as though it were abandoned for decades.
Marc let out a long-held sigh as he sat on the covered armchair. He didn't mind the shoddy maintenance of the mansion; what he minded was the silence.
On the outside, Marc would be considered a loner. He never confided in anyone other than himself. However, that was much easier when he had other selves to confide in. After sharing a mind with so many others for so long he came to realize how much he relied on them. Now he just sat alone in silence, often for hours at a time.
And then there was Khonshu.
Even before Khonshu’s ultimate betrayal he and Marc were constantly quarreling with one another. Khonshu would harangue Marc often for his inadequacy and insubordination while Marc would tire of Khonshu’s ambiguity, holier-than-thou demeanor, and how disposable he made Marc feel.
But Khonshu pushed it too far this time.
“Why am I still doing this?” Marc questioned himself.
To answer, an unlikely yet familiar voice rings throughout the empty mansion.
“Because you are my son.”
Marc glanced to the opposite chair from him to find a familiar yet unwelcome sight. There sat Khonshu, leg crossed over the other, in his signature off-white suit, cobwebs copiously draped across his slender frame and the chair he sat. The dim lighting made the figure look nearly spectral. Where ordinarily a human head would sit instead was a large crow-skull whose pitch-black eye-sockets eternally bored into Marc.
Marc merely closed his eyes again with a deeper scowl creeping into his features.
“I wasn’t asking you, Khonshu, and I thought I made it clear you weren’t welcome here anymore.”
“In this house or in your mind?” inquired Khonshu. “Because technically, I partially helped pay for this place when you sold my relics,” Khonshu gestured to the room around him with a lazy wave of his hand. “And just look at this place; you still haven’t bothered cleaning. With all this dust I would think you’re trying to make this look like the sand-covered temple I revived you in.”
“Get out,” Marc growled.
“I need your help,” Khonshu flatly answered.
“Not interested. Get out,” Marc said through gritted teeth as his scowl deepened.
“I’ve sensed a disturbance in another dimension that can have catastrophic effects throughout the multiverse. Please, I need you to–“
“Well, I don’t need you!” Mark bellowed. “I’m done being your lackey! If you need help, then get some other sucker to help you! You’ve already tried replacing me plenty of times before! And after what you pulled at the asylum, what makes you think I would ever trust you again?”
“…I’m sorry. It was a test taken too far. I was unable to see the extent of the damage being done to you. Please understand that I have never turned my back on you. Everything I’ve ever done to you has been for your benefit to make you stronger. I’m sorry for not nurturing you more as your father. As you know, there is no room for love or compassion in our line of work, but for what it’s worth, I am proud of you and all that you have accomplished.”
“Too late to try the caring parent approach,” Marc spat.
“I didn’t want to appear before you after what I’ve done to you. I would have been content to aid you from the shadows as you fulfilled our will. However, circumstances have changed.”
“You know I was considering giving up the caped-crusader thing?”
“I know you wouldn’t. You are much too vindictive and stubborn to sit idle as innocents are harmed. And stopping those who would do harm is what I’m here asking you to do.”
“How do I even know you’re real?”
“You don’t. Things may seem even more ludicrous for where I’m about to send you. Just remember to trust what you perceive not merely as what is real, but what is true. Your senses have never lied to you before.”
“So now we’re resorting to cliched ‘believe in yourself’ crap huh?” Marc said followed with a sigh. “So where am I going? What will I be doing and when? Are you gonna keep me in the dark as usual as to what’s going on?”
“I know little more than you, my son. You will be going to another world; one that will test your resolve and sanity. You will meet with their Moon’s keeper and will answer to her authority during your stay. I ask that you be lenient with her as she is young in her duties compared to my own, and like you, she is also broken. As to when you’re leaving: right now.”
“Wha-“ Marc started before his vision began to blur. He attempted to get up from his seat, but his body was rapidly becoming heavy along with his eyelids. Sleep would soon be upon him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His last words of defiance to his accursed god rang dully in his own ears as he fell under:
"Fuck you..."
Celestia was beyond glad that Luna was back, but not without equal feelings of apprehension. On the surface, Luna looked to be ridden of the monster that was Nightmare Moon, but Celestia knew that something was off with Luna; she had been around long enough to see the red flags, and she wouldn’t make the same mistake of missing them twice.
Luna was clearly uneasy around other ponies, especially her. She was always more reserved than the average pony before, but from Celestia’s perspective, it had worsened significantly during the past thousand years. Luna wouldn’t talk about life before her banishment, much less the banishment itself and all that led up to it. When asked about her state of being, Luna kept her answers short and vague; expressing how pleased she is to be back and how sorry she is for what she’s done in the briefest of ways. The worst was the vacant eyes that stared straight ahead when not engaged with anypony. Then over time the little effort that Luna did put in petered out until she seemed to stop trying at all. When not pressured into participating, Luna spent all her time locked away in her room.
There was also the issue of Luna’s mannerisms being a thousand years dated. In private, Luna dropped some of the formalities like the royal we and the traditional Canterlot voice, but it was still an ordeal to break those habits in the public eye. On some level, Celestia was relieved Luna stopped showing up to meet with the nobles so that she would stop giving them such a bad impression of herself.
Then there was Celestia and Luna’s relationship itself. There was no denying it: Luna feared her sister, Celestia. This broke Celestia’s heart, but she couldn’t blame Luna. Celestia used the Elements of Harmony to seal Luna away in the Moon, and while she felt it was her only choice at the time, and while she knew the seal would break after a thousand years, it didn’t discount how Celestia ignored the warning signs Luna displayed up to that point.
Celestia wasn’t proud of the pony she was back then. She knew what ponies were saying about her sister, Luna. She knew Luna was hurting. She could’ve made more of an effort to get her sister recognized and to denounce all the terrible rumors, but she let it continue because she cared more about her own image at the time. Apparently, there were things even Celestia shied away from talking about with her sister.
Celestia wanted to coax Luna out of her shell but was too scared of breaking it. All Celestia felt she could do was give Luna the support and time she needed, but recent happenings have put a strain on that course of action.
Under normal circumstances, Celestia would’ve at least had time to spend a couple tea sessions with Luna occasionally, or go to a play together, or maybe drop water balloons on snooty nobles from the clouds, but public appearances made by the Princess of the Night could be problematic at the moment because of a certain problem-group.
Nightmare cultists.
They had always been the occasional problem before, though a problem that grew in magnitude as the years counted down to Luna’s eventual return. What began as an avant-garde rejection of modern mores and folkways by teens acting ‘edgy’ gave way to an active group of followers. The actions by the group were originally relegated to petty vandalism and ravings of mad ponies, but as of late have been bordering on acts of terrorism.
These attacks have compounded with the influx of a strange disease sweeping the nation. Unsightly bumps and markings have been appearing on ponies, especially in lower-income areas. They haven't been too much of an issue until recently, where several ponies with the condition fell ill to other afflictions. It was clear there was a correlation, but how and why was still being researched.
The trouble areas were mostly restricted to dense cities such as Baltimare, Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Las Pegasus, and the like, but have been creeping to more rural areas.
Attacks at night have been on the rise since Luna’s return with more ponies citing Nightmare Moon as the true ruler of Equestria. Celestia was deeply concerned by this but has made no mention of it to Luna and has ordered those in contact with Luna to do the same. Both because it could cause distress to Luna’s already fragile psyche, or worse, because Luna could possibly be connected to the incidents.
By the time Marc regained coherent thought he was already concocting ways to get back at Khonshu.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Marc said to himself. “But first, I need to find out where the hell he sent me this time.”
Marc still couldn’t get his eyes to open. Whether because of the fatigue from being forcefully put to sleep by Khonshu or because of the injuries he sustained the night of his departure he didn’t know. Probably a mix of both, as with all things. What he did know was what he was laying on was very soft, as was whatever was covering him. Where he was also smelled like the perfume department of a bath shop. The light seeping through his eyelids indicated to him that it was sometime during the day, and he swore he could hear distant trotting and talking. Where did Khonshu send him?
…Someone was coming.
Marc heard a door open, along with two pairs of footsteps. “I thought I heard someone rousing. How was your sleep dearie?” a posh, feminine voice cheerfully asked him.
This was not what Marc was expecting. He was expecting to wake up upside-down in an ice cave, or in some eldritch abominations stomach, or about to be vivisected by ancient aliens or any other insane tribulation; waking up in a British woman’s bed was not even in his top two hundred possible scenarios.
“Ah, my apologies, I assumed you had woken up,” the woman whispered.
“I’m awake,” Marc responded flatly.
“Oh! Well that’s a relief. I was wondering when you would wake up,” the unknown woman said while walking (who was that other person?) "When I found you unconscious and battered under my roof, I just couldn’t abandon you. I hope you don’t mind – oh I’m sure you don’t – but I disinfected and wrapped up those awful cuts and bruises you had and threw that tattered rag away. Honestly, you should take better care of your clothing! I could tell it was a remarkable design before it was ruined. If it’s any consolation, I’d be happy to replace it or recreate it, maybe with a twist of my own? Free of charge, of course – no, no I insist!”
This lady has a mouth on her.
Suddenly, the strange woman stopped talking and walking and Marc felt the wind brush his face as she must’ve whirled on herself to face him. She smelled like heavy rose-scented perfume and… a little like a barn?
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I haven’t even asked you for your name yet. I apologize for rambling, I’m just a tad excited. I’ve never seen a creature like you before and I was hoping if you’d allow me the time to model some new designs on you? I’m a fashion designer you know mhmm,” the lady said with a titter.
“I’m Marc. Marc Spector. And you are…?”
“Rarity, darling.”
“…Rarity?” Marc questioned skeptically.
“That is my name, don’t wear it out, as some of my friends would say. Oh! Have you perhaps heard of me where you came from? Is that why you made the dangerous trek to my establishment? It must have been dangerous judging by your wounds, why the fact that you went to such lengths flatters me ohoho~”
Alright, by this point Marc has had enough and was feeling strong enough to sit up, open his eyes, and look over at the… white, purple-maned pony.
“…What? Is there something wrong with my mane?” the mare asked, fidgeting at her hair.
“…Khonshu, what the fuck.”
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Two questions.
First off, what season is this taking place in? I know it references Nightmare Night a lot so that could mean it takes place in season 1~2, but I would just like to have confirmation.
Second off, is this story going to be short and sweet or a long story? I am guessing about 10~25 chapters but it could be more or less.
But anyways so far this story is pretty good. 7.5/10 for now.
9774490
1. Probably sometime during season 1. Certainly either before Luna Eclipsed or that episode didn't happen.
2. I have no clue.
Love it
More...
Color me intrigued here's a like and a follow looking forward to more.
I'll take literally any excuse I can to read stuff of Moon Knight!
I thought you would react better after meeting Tawret