White Knight [Open]

Participants: Moon Knight & Open
Open/Closed: Open 
Location(s): N/A
Time of Day: 5:00 PM
Weather: Sunny
Summary: Marc's day off turns into quite the adventure.

A silver Lexus made its way down the streets of New York, or at least it would have if the streets of New York weren't particularly crowded. The reason people so commonly said no one drives in New York is because everyone drives in New York. The streets were always cluttered with vehicles, those belonging to citizens and the ever present militia of yellow cabs. So, while a silver Lexus was in fact on the streets of New York it wasn't actually making its way anywhere.

Marc squeezed the wheel he sat behind until his knuckles were drained of all color. It was all he could do from lashing out in an over exasperated tantrum. Did he have any place in particular to be? No, but it was the simple principle of not being able to go when he wanted to. He would have chided himself for passing on the chance to just walk to whatever destination he could think up, but he didn't have the chance as the disparaging remarks were already coming from the deity riding shotgun. 

While Marc had managed to get rid of his hallucination/godly benefactor at one point for a short time, Khonshu was back now and much more active than he'd been in the past, he almost never left Marc to himself now.

"Just because you're here and chattering in my ear doesn't mean I have to respond."

It wasn't lost on Marc that he was doing the very thing he protested against, he wasn't that insane, but he felt the words really needed to be said for Khonshu to get the picture. It didn't matter though because Khonshu ignore him, instead telling his prophet that he should just park the car already and get out and walk. And that right there was the entire reason why Marc was still sitting behind the wheel of his silver Lexus going absolutely nowhere, he refused to be Khonshu's puppet. Little acts of rebellion made him feel alive.

Inching a few more yards down the street Marc sat up a bit in his seat noticing flashing lights. A caravan of police cars cleaved through the lanes of traffic, carving out a path for themselves to travel down as the rest of the vehicles on the road sat at a standstill. Quickly Marc rotated his wheel and stomped the gas, throwing himself out of his lane and behind the line of squad cars. He was supposed to be off today, he wasn't going out into the world to do any hero stuff, so why was he following the police? Khonshu asked if he was going to break the criminal's neck once he caught up to them, Marc ignored the spirit.

One of the cop cars pull back a little, they had noticed Marc jump in to follow being their vehicles, and got up on Marc's driver side. The officer frowned at Marc from behind a pair of UV blocking sunglasses and demanded he stop following. Stupid. If he could ignore an ancient culture's god of vengeance, ignoring some idiot with a badge would be a cake walk. Since the cop wasn't exactly going to run Marc off the road for not following orders he just continued to yell while Marc continued to tail the others.

It wasn't too long before the group had arrived to a shelter. It was a home for women seeking escape from abusive relationships. Marc's eyes narrowed at the shattered windows on the ground floor.

His car was parked next to a meter and immediately the cop who had been trying to dissuade him pulled up behind the Lexus. Marc jumped out a minute later, dressed in full Moon Knight attire and shot the beat cop a glare.

"Thirteen hostages, six of 'em are staff. As far as we can tell its only one guy, but may be more. He hasn't made demands but until we know what he's up to or what he wants, Chief wants us to stay put."

Moon Knight scoffed at the Lieutenant briefing the other cops on the scene, it was a good thing he didn't have a chief. 

Marc ran past the cops and their barricade that had been set up. He jogged up the steps that lead to the double doors of the shelter and jump kicked his was through. He landed on ceramic tile in an empty lobby. The lights were off. He needed to find those thirteen hostages before it was too late.

Peter carried with him a greasy brown deli bag, it had been webbed to his hand. It made it impossible for it to slip off his grip as he gradually made his way up. Webbing here and there and before he knew it, he was off flying across the skyline. Peter’s idea for a peaceful lunch consisted of finding a good view, something that wasn’t difficult for him to achieve. Usually he would pick random neighbors around the city to chow down. Sometimes trouble would find him, and sometimes it would take more than his own sense of where to look for bad guys. Peter’s appetite for street food made it easy to go on about his routine as Spider-Man. Happy stomach, happy Peter. His ability to maintain a life had improved in some areas, he kept up with appearances as much as he could. As much as Peter liked his daytime job, there was never a day off for Spider-Man. The suit made him forget about this other life, so much happened in it, it felt necessary to avoid it for a little while longer. 

Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.

The quote came and went through Peter’s mind with the same alacrity that he had torpedoed across the skyline, dashing past a few buildings with acrobatic grace. Swinging in midair, diving and climbing back up into the air was all part of the rush. New York City, a concrete canyon inhabited by thousands of humans from all walks of life. The thought that he was just part of this city never escaped him, Peter would always remind himself of that.

He pondered the many uses to which he’d put his miraculous spider-powers. With such abilities as his strength, his speed, his spider-sense, and the web-shooters. The piece of tech he’d worked on, the countless hours that went into coming up with the proper web fluid. Peter had stopped one too many madmen in their tracks. There would always be one, and at times it felt like there were two or three more than he could handle. But he’d always do his best, he would always rescue the people of this city. Rescued countless of people, criminals and innocent all the same. The fact that he had accomplished so much wasn’t what daunted or haunted him. It was that he couldn’t remember who’d spoken those words. Peter knew it was someone dead, someone famous. It had to be, or was the line from a movie? Peter shrugged it off for now, as he zipped from building to rooftop to building.

If is not a line from a movie, is it a.. play?
Why do I do this to myself? Stop it, Peter.

...but seriously, where have I heard it before?

He was hungry and somewhat bored, which brought up these random thoughts to the surface. Peter landed on the rooftop of a building under construction, it had been designed to accommodate the business model of the city. The wind made it almost impossible to hear the commotion down in the streets. He could barely make out the police sirens. Peter walked to where the faint sirens were echoing, and looked down to find the recipe of something in the making. Sometimes, Peter wished his spider-senses worked in different spectrums of danger. Maybe even tickle him whenever there were other people in danger, not just him.

His white bug-eyes found the familiar figure rushing past the men in blue, their barricade and into the building across the street. He knew crazy and that was it. It had been a while since he last saw the Knight, perhaps a bit too long since then. Peter took one quick look at the greasy brown bag, containing a sigh behind the mask. He shot the webbed bag to the side on the corner of the rooftop and stepped onto the ledge. He lightly patted his stomach, an attempt to ease the noises coming from it. Peter thought about some snark comment to make, and stopped himself before saying it out loud. There was no one around, and although that’s never stopped him before, having to put his lunch aside to jump into action dampened his sense of humor a little. A small price to pay.

Peter stepped off the ledge and off he went, spiraling down the sixty-something stories high architecture. The wind clinging to him for like it felt a split second, and just like that as he calculated seconds before jumping off. Spider-Man shot a straight web line onto the rooftop of the building surrounded by first responders, the building inching closer and closer under him. It was a quick and easy landing, hoping no one saw his stunts. Peter looked for an entrance and just as he’d hoped, his eyes found the fire escape ladder. Peter could’ve swung inside the building and get ahead of the Knight, but everything about this intrigued him. He would have to gather more intel on the what, why and who regarding the attention on this particular structure.

Marc Spector

Moon Knight was a figure of pristine white standing out in a swell of black. The shooter had cut the power, confirmed by Marc flicking light switches as he went, in an odd attempt to conceal what he was up to. Odd because it was the middle of the day and the shelter was well decorated with large windows. So what exactly was this person attempting to hide? Clearly, they were crazier than he was. Still, not at all hindered by the unnatural darkness, Marc walked with a steady caution. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the shooter and cause any more damage than what was already done. The first thing he wanted to do was find out exactly what was the extent of the damage done. After that he would need to discern the demands of the hostage taker, not that Marc intended to give in to them, but when mad men got to talking about what they wanted it meant they were distracted. There was no greater lesson that being a superhero had taught him.

Ahead of Marc's position he could hear whispers; the gunmen or the hostages, he wasn't sure. What Moon Knight was sure of was that he couldn't just run in figurative gun's a-blazing, that was for blunt object type of guys like Punisher. Marc was more about finesse and getting the upper hand at all costs, which meant using his mind muscle before any other muscle he had to flex.

Ignoring the scoffing sounds of the dejected god in his head, Marc turned away from the sounds of whispers and made a quick hop to de-grate a vent. His body wasn't quite slim enough for the expedition at hand but with enough wiggle and squirm Moon Knight was able to get into and traverse the ducts of the building. His ivory costume collected aged dust bunnies along the way as he wormed his body to the location where the whispering voices had originated. 

Marc came to another grate, this one he did not forcefully pry from its place. Instead he peered through it, narrowed lenses watching as a long haired blond paced back and forth before a group of bound women. Quickly, he took in as much information as he could. Only eight women were in the room with the man, he carried an assault rifle in his arms, two pistols tucked in his back waist band, and he was barefoot. Marc rubbed his chin, which given the tightness of his predicament was essentially just him rocking back and forth against his curled hand that was oddly angled against the wall of the vent. A plan was beginning to form.

Peter Parker