{Dance Of The Devils} Red and White (Invite) (Gwenpool)

[John Kilroy]

It had been no secret that Hell’s Kitchen had become a warzone as of late. The now-coined Devilgate had been going on for a time now with no sign of stopping. It was getting to the point that people were forgetting why the violence was even occurring it was all just pure anger and rage. It was an example of what happened when people had no hope.


After the Hellzone incident large swaths of the area were getting bought out, and people were forced out of their homes for a paltry sum. Those who refused to leave their homes or businesses were often coerced to leave by force…some of that force being super. Everyone knew the blame was on Fisk, even if it could never be traced back to him directly. His connections to even the highest parts of the government were well known. He was essentially the prime example of The elite that controlled the government, and now thanks to the SRA, people like Fisk essentially controlled the supers too. At the point that Ms. Marvel became Captain Marvel or as many liked to call her, Captain “Fascist” and Tony became the Director of SHIELD, that was the breaking point for the people. It was bad enough that the government was in bed with a bunch of pseudo-aristocrats who saw the common people as little more than expendable cattle, but now the supers the people who were the first and biggest line of defense for the average joe against the aristocratic oligarchy were now suddenly part of that oligarchy. If the heroes wouldn't even defend them, then who would?

Daredevil was one of the most well-known heroes who defied the Superhero Registration Act and being a well-known enemy of the Kingpin, made him essentially the face of both ant-registration sentiments, and populism, but as the phrase goes, when the ballot box and the voice box were made worthless, the only box left was the ammo box. Like so many movements and protests before them, the Devilgate Riots had devolved into little more than mindless violence and looting the rioters were causing as much if not more damage to themselves than they were to Fisk. People were getting caught in the crossfire and it was getting harder to tell who people with legitimate grievances were, and who were bad actors simply hiding behind and taking advantage of the chaos.

Gwen had been watching things from a distance, wearing a homemade white and red ninja outfit something she much preferred over her white and garish pink, ironically it actually blended in with the chaos. Whether it was going to be a one-time thing or a permanent upgrade she hadn’t decided yet. She broke up fights as non-lethally as she could, only using lethal force on the devils that were clearly bad actors.

A lot of people looked at the rioters and saw criminals and anarchists, and while there were a fair number of those among the rioters, she mostly saw people who were lost and without hope. People who needed a symbol…a leader. She shuttered at the thought. As she could see the Kingpin smiling and nodding.

[Rift]

Hell's Kitchen was burning. Again.

Under normal circumstances the streets would have been far safer. The mere possibility of running into the Devil of Hell's Kitchen kept all but the most depraved or the most stupid inside once the sun went down. Whenever something or someone with more than a gimmick and some guns decided to mess around they knew that the motley crew of street wise heroes known as the Defenders could come to Daredevil's aid on short notice. Even outside of Harlem thugs and professionals alike didn't want to run the risk of having to square off against Luke Cage and if Power Man wasn't bad enough the Iron Fist was likely tagging along ready to show anyone dumb enough to cross the duo that his brand of Kung Fu was nothing like the movies. Sadly, times had changed.

The fear of Daredevil and his cohorts no doubt still lingered in the minds of criminals, in the gangs and mafioso types, in the dealers and the junkies, but the Hellzone incident had shown that limits could be pushed and lines crossed. The Avengers, The Fantastic Four, and even S.H.I.E.L.D. affiliated heroes hadn't shown up when the neighborhood needed them most. Their hands hand been bound by the red tape that accompanied the SRA. While the more powerful and depraved may have taken that as an invitation to do as they pleased, the event had proven to the average citizen that the heroes who lived among them and not in fancy towers had their back. The types that rarely got press or stayed to the shadows were revered among the common man. That kind of public good will would not be tolerated.

Perhaps the riots were the result of a powerful entity in politics trying to discredit the unregistered heroes. Maybe it was one of the supers that had signed on and backed the Registration Act hoping a little property damage done in a folk hero's name would discredit the unregistered further. Then again chances were just as likely that it was a villain, though these days it might be difficult to tell the difference between the two. Whatever the case, none of that mattered to the man standing atop a nearby roof.

Moon Knight narrowed his eyes at the scenes unfolding below. He'd been so caught up in that Midnight business with Daredevil that he hadn't had time to really take in the damage being done. Now though he saw that this was very much his area of interest. It didn't matter if they wore suits of armor, ski masks, or cheap knockoffs of DD's costume the rioters were endangering innocent people, particularly those who dared try to move about at night. While The Kitchen may have been Daredevil's territory, the safeguarding of travelers at night fell to Khonshu's Fist regardless of where they may be. While others may see nuances in the men and women throwing Molotov Cocktails through car windshields and smashing storefront windows with anything they could get their hands on, Moon Knight did not. They were not protesting, they had no grievance worth the destruction, fear, and danger they caused. They were simply threats that had to be quelled. Khonshu demanded nothing less.

For the briefest of moments his mind flashed to the SRA Registration Card he had in his belt. To others it would be as good as a leash preventing them from getting involved. Considering Moon Knight had not actually been the one defeated by Quake, nor the one who actually agreed to being registered when dragged into custody, he didn't think of it as anything more than a potential black eye to those who made the mistake of giving it to who they thought was him.

Stark and Hill and all the politicians up in D.C. would have aneurysms on the spot if they found out you not only got involved, but crossed some imaginary line, he thought, imagining how the story would play in the press.

Yeah, but it isn't them you need to worry about Marc. Mr. Knight told the devil we were trying to be better, to turn over a new leaf. Life will be easier for all of us if you don't prove him a liar. Besides, think of Detective Flint for once. He already lost his badge once because of you. Do you really want that on your conscience too? Not to mention I thought you and Khonshu were having a spat? Do his wishes even matter after he let what happened happen? a voice in the back of his head asked.

"Shut up Lockely," he snapped at the other personality.

Below a scream drew his attention. A number of men in plastic Daredevil masks, the kind you may see at Halloween or at a children's party, were circling an old man. The elderly gentleman was trying his best to fend them off, to prevent them from ransacking and torching his business. As he fumbled for a revolver, his daughter brandished a baseball bat, but it was clear they didn't stand a chance against the attackers.

Dropping from his perch Moon Knight landed between the thugs and their victims, a pair of Crescent Darts flying out and piercing the hands of the two closest men, forcing them to drop their respective pipe and brick. Standing from a crouch he glared at them, so focused on the rioters that he failed to take notice of the woman in red and white not far away.

"You've once chance and one chance only. Lay down your weapons, take off those ridiculous masks, and run. I won't repeat myself," he growled.

One of the uninjured thugs, checking on his pal's bleeding hand, shook his head.

"Uh-huh. No way freak. This is the Kitchen Moon Man. This is the Devil's turf. He's one of us, one of the people that lives and breathes these streets. This doesn't concern you!" he shouted.

Clenching his fists, spiked dusters glimmering in the light of a nearby fire, Moon Knight said, "You don't speak for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. You endanger those who Travel at Night and I do speak for he that offers them safe passage. You were warned."

[John Kilroy]

As Moon Knight was argueing with the man in the cheap Daredevil mask, Gwen was able to sneak up behind the man and draw her short katana to the dime store Daredevil's neck.

"I would suggest you do what he says before things get really ugly for everyone involved."

The man let out a nervous chuckle as he looked down at the blade to his throat. "Eh he ehehe Nice...sword." It was clear at that moment he was far more fearful of Gwen decapitating him then he was of Moon Knight. Gwen noticed on the side of the man's neck was the good old Eagle, Globe, and Anchor.

"Turn around and look at me." Gwen commanded. 

The man did so. 

"You're a Marine aren't you?" Gwen asked.

The man hesitated at first. "Semper fi" Gwen pulled out her Necklace from Under her costume. He nodded and gave her a salute. He could see it in her eyes and she could see it in his. Marine's seemed to know their own even across the multiverse.  "Jack Tuttle."

"Jack...what the heck are you doing? Is this what we were taught, acting like hooligans, throwing bombs and smashing windows like a bunch of thugs?"

Jack bit the corner of his lip. "Fisk did this not us. He took our homes are livelihoods, I lost my home my butcher shop! My family and I have been cast out on the streets! The Avengers betrayed us! What are we supposed to do?!? Who do we turn to?!?"

Gwen put a head on his shoulder. "I know...I know, but all of this, This isn't what we do. this isn't what we fought for. Look around...you're doing more damage to yourselves than Fisk ever did. You're doing exactly what he wants. 

Jack looked at the chaos in front of him the screaming and the shouting and it was as if his eyes were opened for the first time. he looked around him and the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks "What are we doing?" he then looked to Gwen. 


"What do I do?"

Gwen smiled under her mask. "You want to help and set things right. Help out the wounded where you can find them. Get as many people to calm down as you can. 

Jack gave a salute "Yes Ma'am" He then looked to his fellow rioters. "You heard the lady move out!"

As Jack and his fellow gang of marines moved out to do their part to help de-escalate the riots Gwen looked to Moon Knight.

"Pleasure to work with you. You look even cooler in person than you do in Pen and Ink."

[Rift]

Moon Knight glared at the woman in the hood, remaining silent for a long moment.

She's new. Can't be one of Stark or Hill's pet projects because I'm the only registered "hero" in the vicinity. Her outfit and weapon of choice hints at some martial training, but she's too soft to be Hand or a member of any of the half dozen ninja themed organizations I'm aware of, he thought. And pen and ink remark was...unusual.

In his mind he pictured the others, the identities that helped make him whole, and decided against his better judgement to seek their counsel.

Beats me, Jake replied from the barstool. In case you don't remember we've all been on a bit of a vacation to rooms with padded walls and long sleeved jackets. I ain't been able to hit the streets or the usual haunts. We done got out, ran into that Midnight business, and you've been keeping me and rich boy in the background for fear that Daredevil and his pals might notice you ain't wrapped as tight as you claim to be. Maybe if you'd let me take the wheel I could have  scrounged up some info on some peppermint themed ninja broad, but you didn't so I got nothin' for ya.

From the mental recreation of one of his many penthouses, Stephen Grant smirked at himself in the mirror as he readjusted a tie that probably cost more than most people's cars.

Like the cabbie said, there's no news on this end. I could always call up some of my contacts and reach out to some of our less savory acquaintances, but like Lockely you haven't exactly given me a chance to be useful. Pen and ink though makes me think of two things. Could she be one of them we missed from the nuthouse? They definitely had you looking at enough Rorschach tests in between shock therapy and keeping us locked in their weird alien hallucination machines. Without being in front I can't offer anything beyond that. 

Moon Knight exhaled angrily. The whole exchange had only taken mere moments, but it was irritating. The others just didn't understand. His leaning into the Mr. Knight persona, cooperating with Daredevil, and insisting on being the one in charge were all for a reason. The world had to see that he wasn't crazy, because even he wasn't sure. Not after being held by the Skrulls in their secret mental institution and not after Khonshu had failed to assist him. The moon deity had insisted that the whole affair was "of his own doing and should instruct him on what happens when faith wavers." Then as soon as he was active again Khonshu spent the majority of the Midnight hunt taunting him and insisting he do harm to Daredevil and literally anyone else that went on his nerves. With that kind of problem he didn't need the others galivanting around for weeks on end without knowing what they were doing or how they were compromising the mission.

"What exactly do you think you are doing? You took already dangerous, angry thugs and set them back out on the street, still wearing their stupid costumes. When they run into the more radical freaks out here on the street they won't have the same appreciation for their past service that you do, in fact some may find that reason enough to slit their throats assuming they notice. Besides, you are in Hell's Kitchen and this is his territory. What do you think the Devil will do if he finds them acting his name, without his blessing? They might be better off if the other rioters get their hands on them. Death can be more merciful than the pain and suffering they will go through if he finds them," Moon Knight spat, "Or you." 

[John Kilroy]

Gwen took a deep breath and tried to calm her own thoughts. She had to tread really carefully thinking back on Tony's words. She had a lot of knowledge but these versions of the heroes weren't limited to scrips, they were controlled by players, which means they react more spontaneously kind of like how people IRL did. She did have a player of her own, and while she didn't know his name or rather his username, she did feel him sort of guiding her. Depending on how you looked at it, he was sort of her own version of Khonshu....she could also relate with Marc in dealing with another personal brunning through your head. There was of course the gun happy pop culture spouting blood knight, Gwenpool and then there was the new persona developing, the rich, posh and mysterious Queen in Yellow, and there was the fact that both she and Marc were both former marine's had an affinity for guns and blades an- oh dear lord she had so much more in common with Moon Knight than she cared to admit.

She took a deep breath when she suddenly heard a voice inside her head.  *Perhaps I should take the wheel on this one darling?* Xastur The Queen in Yellow asked. Gwen couldn't help but bite her lip. Still was it a good idea to introduce one of her own alternate personalities to a man well known for his own. *I believe I would be better suited for the situation than Gwenpool and if we are dealing with Khonshu or Grant then perhaps it takes a god to deal with another god or someone rich and regal to deal with someone else rich and regal.*

as much as Gwen hated to admit it, Xastur had a point. She took another deep breath. "Alright, one of my friends is going to introduce themselves to you. Just...don't freak out."

Xastur was excited. She hadin't gotten to have a conversation with anyone since JJJ. Gwen closed her eyes and let the Queen in Yellow Persona take the wheel. But she made sure to be closly listining so that she could jump back in if need be. When Gwen opened her eyes, her posture and body language visibly changed the voice that came out of her mouth while still resembling hers, had a very authentic  posh French accent to it.

"I assume the Devil would probably have a heart attack, an aneurysm, or both. But his feelings are not our concern, we aren't dealing with thugs, we are dealing with a peasant population, who feel betrayed alone, and scared. I'm sure you've dealt with that plenty of times yourself...I'm sorry, which one of you am I dealing with here? Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Steven Grant, Mr. Knight...?"

*Seriously you just HAD to namedrop all of his alter egos at once? You know how paranoid this guy is? he's going to think we're a Skrull or somthing.*

*Perhaps but do you think it'd be wise to go in half-cocked with that "I'm the smartest person in the room attitude of yours? Remember what Stark said about your god complex. *

*I'm sorry who's the one that calls herself Xastur...The Queen in Yellow...a Cthulhu mythos deity?*

*Do you want to take over? *

Gwen bit her lip, as much as she wasn't confident in what Xastur was doing, Whether Xastur was the actual shepard goddess made manifest thanks to Gwen's imagination or simply an alter ego, Xastur was the one most likely to be able to stand up to the moon god (whether real or just another one of Marc's alter egos.) and relate best to Steven Grant. Still, one thought ran through Gwen's mind.

*This is going to end in a fight I just know it.*

[Rift]

Moon Knight listened to the girl speak, his jaw clenching with each word. Her knowledge of his identity or rather identities was somewhat surprising. It wasn't often that he ran into someone who knew all of them let alone that he was Marc Spector. Even the majority of the costumed crowd only knew the barebones of his story. To many, like the Wallcrawler, he was simply Moon Knight or Loony Moony. Unhinged, dangerous, and willing to cross lines most of them would never dream of. So when he encountered somebody that knew of his alters it was usually personal. An enemy he didn't know was still alive like that business with Midnight recently or maybe someone from his mercenary days, those were the folks that knew the names.

Them and anyone that has read your jacket. That nonsense that ended with me registered thanks to an imposter didn't help keep any buried secrets in the dark. Between the CSA, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the Avengers it is a wonder anyone bothers to recognize me as Moon Knight anymore. They have so many names to choose from, he thought bitterly.

Still the girl didn't strike him as a member of any of the alphabet agencies. None of them would have talked to the thugs as she had and when it came to the likes of Spider-Man or Captain America, they wouldn't have been so glib about potentially angering Daredevil. Being an ex-Marine though didn't mean she'd have access to his information. Something else was going on with her.

Plenty of people in this business operate under different guises and prefer their codename while in costume, but she blatantly changed. Cadence, accent, and even her posture is different now than it had been moments before. God, is this what it is like for people who have to deal with me? he wondered. Or is this some kind of trick? The Skrull knew more of me than expected and it seems up their alley to play mind games, especially after what I went through and saw at the institute. The odds of running into someone else in this business with my condition is...

"You could find out you know. You are well versed in methods of interrogation. When you want answers, you get them, one way or another. The only thing stopping you from doing so is you, my son," Khonshu said.

Glancing over Gwen's shoulder he saw him. Khonshu, the sockets of his bird-skull filled with an eerie red light, sat on a newspaper dispenser, arms folded across his chest.

Ignoring the vision of the Moon god he instead turned his attention to the woman and her odd phrasing.

"They are not peasants. They are criminals, animals lashing out while hiding behind the visage of another, misunderstanding the man they place on a pedestal as if he is some kind of deity in these streets," Moon Knight replied, voice like gravel.

"Subtle, Spector. Seeing others as following someone under false pretenses while you yourself question your service. Oh my son, you think you the first of my Fists to have a crisis of faith? To not understand why I have chosen to do as I have and thus act out against my wishes? I am patient. I can wait for you to see the light, but the more you struggle the worse it will be," Khonshu mocked. "I have not forsaken you as you seem to believe. I will tell you this one is something...else. She is not one of the green skinned imposters, but she does serve the will of another."

"What's worse is that they are threatening those who travel by night. They impede their travel, create chaos and destruction, and risk their very lives by burning structures and attacking anything they perceive to be representative of their frustrations. The night is my domain, the well-being of those who travel in it my solemn duty. So what you call them matters little, my mission remains and won't tolerate interference," Moon Knight said, pushing Khonshu's words out of his mind.

Somewhere nearby glass shattered, likely the result of a thrown brick.

"Not from any so-called authorities and most definitely not from whatever it is you are supposed to be. Return to whomever you serve and tell them if they want to make a run at me, they'd be wise to remember what happened when I grew weary of Raoul Bushman."

[John Kilroy]

Gwen or rather Xastur looked over from the corner of her eye. the man who threw the brick was subdued by jack and a couple of his guys. A couple of others seemed to tend the wounded....then it seemed like somthing akin to a mircle was starting to happen. As people saw Jack and his men start to defuse the situation, others began to follow suit. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps it was a case of following the leader, perhaps Gwen started a chain reaction. She had calmed someone down and they in turn began to pacify others. It wasn't fast, but it WAS happening.

"Ah but look," She said noting Jack. "Not everything has to be solved by beating people to death. Sometimes all it takes is one voice of calmness and reason...and then a chain reaction." A few men who seemed to be talking to Jack earlier were now seemingly helping some of the wounded. Oddly enough Xastur decided to qoute the book of Ecclesiastes, finding the words to be befitting given the situation "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak." She then looked over to Marc. "Perhaps there has been enough violence here and now is the time to heal."


Xastur couldn't help but notice Mar staring at the newspaper stand. She let out a sigh. "I know you're there Khonshu. If you are trying to figure out whom I serve, then you are searching in vain. I serve no one, I work with them they are my partner, my friend, I like to refer to them as my guardian angel. But, you don't know anything about these things do you? Such concepts are foreign to you, like a child trying to understand concepts far beyond his level of maturity. Concepts like love, compassion...redemption. Oh yes, I have seen many events unfold throughout the vast multiverse. I've seen gods be born and I've seen gods die. My kind were of the first, long before your world was imagined into existence. and we will be here long after your world folds in on itself. Yes I've seen many iterations of you and those like you. It never ceases to amaze me. You think yourselves so wise, and yet you are little more than children. It's all a game to you and when people don't play the way you like you lash out like a spoiled brat not that your brothers and sisters are any better. In fact you are one of the more benevolent ones...if we can call it that. It'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetic. I know what you were, I know what you are, I know what you could be. You are as much a destroyer as you are a savior, an enslaver as much as you are a protector, a villian as much as a hero. In fact your kind tends to be the worst kind of villain. To quote a great mortal Author. I believe he goes by the name of C.S Lewis.

"It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated, but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.”

she looked to Marc and then at the stand. "How long have you been tormenting Marc, how long have you been emotionally blackmailing Marc, using his own demons, holding his sins against him so that he would let you use him as a puppet out of some false sense of atonement? was it right before his father tried to commit him and you approached the boy claim to be his true progenitor? Or how about when you started talking inside his head during his father's funeral leaving the grief stricken Marc so terrified he ran off? How many others like him have you used? Have you ever asked him if he even wants this? Or does your compassion and your benevolence for others only exist so long as it feeds your own ego?"

She then looked to Marc. "I don't know when was the last time anyone asked you this but...what do YOU want Marc Spector? Not Khonshu, not Moon Knight, what do YOU, Marc Spector, want?"


Xastur then looked back in the direction of the Newspaper stand. "You wish to know what I am Khonshu? then come. Gaze into my mind I have nothing to hide. you want my secrets, you may have them but beware god of the moon. You will not like what you see..." 

Gwen braced herself. She had no idea where this was going to go. Challenging a god even if just in a battle of mind and wits as opposed to might or magic would either be the most awesome and gutsy thing she's ever done, the most stupid thing she's ever done, or both. That's assuming he would even try to call her bluff.

[Rift]

Moon Knight was not sure what he was expecting from the strange girl, but this whatever it was, was not it.

He'd run into creatures and entities that most normal people never would, not even his fellow costumed adventurers. Unlike the majority of them who focused on aliens or street crime alone, he'd become well-versed in the weirder side of the street. The things that went bump in the night, that clung to the human consciousness throughout the ages, and those that most only thought existed between the pages of a horror novel or on the silver screen. With that experience he'd learned that there were things out there that defied classic explanations and that Khonshu was but one of them. Whatever the yellow clad thing he saw just over Gwen's shoulder was presumable another.

The existence of such a thing didn't come as a shock, but the fact that it not only saw but acknowledged Khonshu? That was new.

If Khonshu saw or heard the being, it didn't answer her. Instead, he stood silently nearby, his garments shifting from a suit and tie to the robes and holy vestments he'd of worn back when he and the rest of his pantheon were well-known. Floating ever so slightly off the ground the moon deity extended a hand as if beckoning someone forward. Then in a flash of light, he was gone as if he had never been there.

Marc meanwhile was nearly distracted. In his experience things such as the creature before him cared not for the desires of others be it their hosts or their potential rivals. Having this Hastur ask what he wanted, not as the Fist of Khonshu or a priest or even a mercenary, but as an individual? That was new. Likely a ploy to throw him off his game, but still it was different.

A move worthy of Mephisto, he thought.

Like his benefactor he opted not to respond to the being, instead keeping his attention of the ninja-like girl, fully expecting an attack or perhaps even more lectures.

People like her, like the Spider, like the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, they will never understand that mercy only works when those being offered it deserve such kindness. Masses easily riled up even by the machinations of others are dangerous and too stupid to risk letting them run rampant. And there is not time to sit and ask them about their feelings or motivations, not when lives of the innocent are on the line.

He was about to let her know that he was done with the conversation when he noticed the oddest detail. It was raining harder, but it sounded different. Gone was the light patter of raindrops hitting gravel and in its place was an odd twinkling sound reminiscent of windchimes or breeze blowing across icicles. The sound change was not nearly as off as the fact that the rain was falling...upwards.

The street around them had changed, the architecture a strange mix of what Hell's Kitchen may have looked like in back in the 40's and the occasional ancient Egyptian themed building complete with a street market, gravel that flowed into sand covered stone paths, and a glowing white pyramid in the distance where it was silhouetted perfectly against the suddenly far lower and much fuller moon. As he looked around he took note of the sky and the colors dancing through it, half aurora borealis and half cosmic nova. Sands blew through the suddenly tropic smelling air, swirling into odd shapes that revealed eyes and faces amongst the stars and random chunks of Earth floating about.

Looking back to Gwen he sighed. "You issued the challenged. This is the answer."

[John Kilroy]

Gwen or rather Xastur could not help but roll her eyes at what she frankly saw was a childish temper tantrum from Khonshu and an immature attempt to puff out his chest and show off his power in hopes of intimidating her. If that was the case all she could say was she wasn't impressed. This wasn't even actual reality warping on his part. It was all a mind game to try and psyche her out.

"Really? is that how you're going to behave? *sigh* he's such a child."

With a mere flick of her writs Xastur caused the whole scene to unravel and change the Egyptian themed landscape seemed to melt away as it gave way to an ethereal looking landscape that seemed to defy nature.  the sky turned as white as daylight and filled with black stars, with a beautiful ancient golden city surrounded by a beautiful sea that was clearer than crystal. It was beautiful, tranquil, peaceful. This was no ordinary place. This was the long-fabled City of Carcosa. 

Xastur then summoned a piece of island and sat on the coast and then looked to Marc. "Come sit with me. I won't bite. I have my eye on the situation. If anything looks like it's unfolding, I'll break the scape. Is my appearance frighten you?" she then let out a sigh. "You think that mercy only works when those being offered it deserve such kindness...do you believe you yourself are beyond redemption? Do you think you are undeserving of Mercy? Again, I'm not asking Moon Knight or the Fist of Khonshu. I'm asking Marc Spector and only Marc Spector...I don't think you are in either case."  
 


 

[Rift]

Moon Knight watched and listened as the pair of odd entities reshaped the landscape around him. Granted they were not actually reforming New York, the skyline not changing in any literal sense, but the amount of detail each put into their particular versions of a mental landscape was impressive. For a moment he could feel the heat and smell the desert sand in the air as if it had just blown in off the Nile and then it was gone, the sparkling unsettling golden city in pace of the pyramids as he caught a whiff of sea water on the air.

All of it was fake however, a construct created in his mind or between his mind and the strange ninja girl's or perhaps it was the faintest little peek inside the minds of either Khonshu or whatever this being that spoke to him was. Either way, he'd grown used to such unusual escapades over the years. While most would have been frightened or possibly impressed, Marc simply saw it all as yet another lie, an illusion that could be filed away among all the various other oddities thought up by his scrambled mind. None of it was real. Half the time he didn't even know if Khonshu was a reality or yet another made up personal created to wrangle in all the others floating around in his head, a twisted perversion of his religious upbringing. Whatever the case, it didn't matter.

What is real, I think, are those riots. People are in danger and I'm standing around in the dark being lectured by what may be two imaginary friends at best or at worse overly powerful supernatural beings, he thought.

"I've not been asked what I want in a very long time and honestly it doesn't matter. I wanted to live and thus became the Fist of Khonshu. What I want is of no longer of relevance. I made a deal. I intend to honor it, even if I don't always perform to Khonshu's standards. So if pressed on it, I would say, I want to get back to work, to not have to pull out a measuring stick because two alien beings decided to interrupt my duties as protector of those who travel at night rather than have a rational conversation with one another," he said.

Even as the words left his mouth he thought about what his life had become. From secret operative to mercenary to vigilante avatar for the moon god everything he'd done had been about violence. He was good at it, sometimes too good, but every time he enjoyed it.

If I wasn't the Fist of Khonshu, would I still be out here? Would I still be beating down these fools? Would I be hunting criminals when the sun goes down? I honestly don't know. Sometimes it feels like it is the right thing, the just thing. Other times I think it is how I deal with the that is my life. After all, I don't know for sure that every one in that facility I was being held in was a Skrull and I haven't even thought about it until now. That probably says a great deal about me. That I have given up on what it is I actually wanted for so long. Normalcy. To be well. To know my thoughts are my thoughts and my actions my own. I threw up my hands and let Khonshu and others take the wheel so that I don't have to examine myself since I already know I won't like what I see, he thought in a rare moment of insight.

For half a second he thought he saw someone out the corner of his vision, a familiar silhouette of a blonde woman forming, and realizing who it was going to be and that it would reveal too much about himself to this potentially dangerous enemy, he let go of the metaphorical wheel to let someone stronger take control. The woman vanished before fully stepping into sight.

Instantly Moon Knight had reasserted himself, he turned towards the being on her floating island and said, "What I want is to stop these morons in cheap Halloween costumes from tearing up the city, to save lives of the people just stuck living here while idiots dressed up like the devil bring real hell to them. I want you to get out of my mind and out of my way."