Chapter Text
Just as soon as Marc awoke in the confines of Steven Grants London home, he relinquished control to him, as he was no longer on Moon Knight business. He’d be back though, and soon. Steven readjusted himself as he took precedent within the body, and reacquainted himself with his surroundings. Adam stood equidistant from where he was in the desert, looking just as pensive as before. “You’re still here,” Steven said, slightly surprised. He had figured that by now, the man would have had more than enough of him and his shenanigans, but no, he stuck around. Adam turned toward him, gold catching softly in the flat light. “Yep.” One word responses must be the default choice for a man like Adam, Leaving more space for Steven to fill. “Good. I-I mean, good that you didn't get like, dissolved by a moon god, not that I wanted you here or—” Adam spared Steven from becoming even more of a stuttering mess. “It’s all good. I figured I’d stick around and see things through, as long as that's alright with you?” Steven nodded, refraining from using any more words in the moment as his speech seemed to malfunction around Adam.
After, a moment, he started again. “Right. So. That was… Khonshu. He does make an entrance, doesn’t he?” “It would appear so.” Adam watched him carefully. “You don’t seem too shaken, given everything that’s gone on.” Steven considered that. “Oh, I am,” he said honestly. “Just not surprised. He’s always been like that. Loud and possessive. Fond of reminding everyone who he thinks owns what.” Adam just nodded, and let Steven continue. He started to pace, seemingly taking the opportunity to air his grievances. It was nice to have someone to listen, or once. “And- y’know, t doesn’t even bother me anymore that he’s angry. He is the god of vengeance, after all. But he just doesn’t question himself anymore, and the idea that he could be wrong is so baffling to him that hes rather have Marc kill a man —the very same who saved me no less— than face the notion that he could possible be wrong. It’s insane!” Adam tilted his head. “Well, what changed him? what he always like this?”
Steven hesitated for a second before speaking. “I, unlike Marc, have an interest and have taken time to study Egyptian mythology. Both the stories, and the social structures that surrounded the places in which they were shared. And, in most of these stories, the gods aren’t absolute authorities deciding things for the people they governed. They were forces. They played small roles in peoples lives guiding them in the right or wrong directions. Even Khonshu, originally, was the protector of those who traveled under his moon. Even judgment gods weren’t dictators, they were stewards, quite like you, except they weighed hearts, and managed afterlives.” “But now?” “But now,” Steven said, meeting his gaze, “he uses fear and obligation because it’s easier than trust.” “And you’re the subject of his that faces it.” “Yeah, I guess I am.”
The room felt smaller, less so in a claustrophobic sense, but intimate. Steven became acutely aware of Adams presence closer leaning next to him instead of standing away as he was before, though we wasn’t sure who had drifted towards the other. “You remind me,” Steven went on thoughtfully, “of certain figures. A guardian. The ones who guide souls without claiming them. Who don’t decide where someone goes—only make sure the journey isn’t… unfair.”
Adam regarded him for a long moment. “You compare me to a psychopomp.”
Steven lifted a shoulder. “Loosely. Minus the animal head, obviously.” That earned him a small chuckle, and as the moment died down Steven felt spurred to ask something before considering if he actually should. “Come to the mission with me. I mean, you should. …If you want to, of course.” Adam inclined his head as he seemed to consider the request. Steven tried to read anything off of his expression, but it was inscrutable. After a moment of contemplation, Adam nodded his head in agreement. Marc surged forward in Stevens presence, grumbling something about interfering with Moon Knight’s business. he brushed it aside for now as Steven arranged travel plans to get back to the city.
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Marc Spector owes his life to Khonshu. That’s obvious, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that he owes his identity to him as well. Maybe that’s what led him to the making of the Mission. Or maybe, it’s what led none other than the elusive Mr. Knight through its doors, Adam Warlock in tow. Adam didn’t seem to react much to different sides of Marc, but he had filed away some questions for Marc about why he dons this costume when on mission business. Something about the hum of the air around them changed ad Marc crossed the threshold into the mission, and again when Adam did. It reacted to each of their presences, one unfamiliar, but was seemingly able to sense that he wasn’t a threat. Also reacting to their entrance from across the room, Reese looked up from whatever she was reading to give Mr. Knight a once-over. Alive, intact, and not bleeding from somewhere, all good signs. Her gaze flitted over to the newer of the two men, and she grinned. “Are we bringing home strays now, Marc, or is he here for the mission?”
“He’s, not a stray, nor is he seeking the missions help. And I could’ve sworn I told you to call me Mr. Knight.” Adam cleared his throat. “I have a name, you know.” Then to Reese: “I’m Adam.” “Reese. Soldier and the others are out doing a sweep on the lower east side, but I’m sure you’ll catch them later if you stick around. But, Mar- Mister Knight, what exactly is Adam here for? And why were you gone for so long?” Marc lowered his head. “I died, Reese.” Her smile faded, and the look in her blood-red eyes immediately flicked to concern. Anything that could kill him meant bad news for the mission and worse news for the people it was meant to protect. “OK, you died. And Khonshu brought you back to his service, correct?” He shook his head and pointed to Adam. “No. That’s why he’s here. It was him who brought me back.” “And Khonshu was… where, exactly?” “…It’s a long story and one we don’t have time for at all right now.” “You mean you don’t feel like it.” Marc sighed. “Either way, Reese, there are way more important things to deal with right now.” As Marc caught Reese up on what happened to him and who they were searching for, Adam took a look around. The mission seemed relatively empty, save for a couple of desks and chairs. He started wonder what Marc’s place looked like; and if this was any indication of what it was like. Was it neater or cleaner than Stevens? And why was he thinking of it?
By the time he had zoned back into the conversation, Mister Knight had sent Reese to gather and update the rest of the group about the group they were searching for. Once again, he was alone face to face with a different side of Marc Spector. For a moment, they just stood in silence, before Adam got an inquisitive look in his eye. “You’re different like this. As Mr. Knight. You’re still Marc, but you push yourself to separate what happens here from the rest of yourself.” “You sound like my therapist, ” Marc said, before continuing after a moment. “You’re right, I guess. The mask, it… represents the mission it’s what I decide to be exactly what the Mission needs.”
Adam said nothing, allowing the space to hold the explanation.
Marc went on, voice even. “Steven lives in the world. Jake goes underground. Mister Knight is when I commit myself to the people who don’t get daylight. The ones who come here because nowhere else will take them.” “The travelers of the night,” Adam said. Marc gave a nod. “Well, to me, this mission seems good for you. You seem most yourself here.” Marc scoffed, and his tone lightened. “Okay, that’s definitely not what my therapist would say.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not your therapist, isn’t it, Marc? Or should I say, Mister Knight.” Marc shyed away a moment before asking. “What is it you see about me in this place, exactly?” “I see commitment, for one,” He answered. “I think your devotion to your people and the ones you protect gives you better purpose than what your god did before.” “That’s usually where people start asking questions,” he said lightly. “About why. About whether it’s healthy.” Adam shook his head once. “I have no interest in dissecting a choice you make with clarity. Not my place.” Marc grinned through the mask as he caught on to something, something he probably should’ve a lot sooner. “It can be dangerous,” he said, “to inflate my ego that much.” Adam feigned ignorance. “Is it?” “If you think I’m insufferable now, you’ll hate to see me when I know I’m right about something.
Standing closer to each other than when the conversation had started, the space between them felt charged, like they were magnetic fields interacting. “Careful,” Marc said. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to start thinking you like what you see.” Adam didn’t back down. “Oh, I do,” he said. Marc blinked. Not because the answer surprised him, but because Adam had said it without any hesitation.
“That was very direct,” Marc said.
“I am not inclined toward being ambiguous when my stakes here are personal,” Adam replied.
Marc’s smile came slower this time. This is why he had followed him in the first place. “And what are the stakes?” Adam’s gaze dropped briefly—to Marc’s hands, the line of his shoulders, the mask that both concealed and revealed him. “You,” he said.
Before either of them could get another word in, the overlapping voices of the mission crew coming through the entrance of the building. The mission welcomed the noise, the movement, the return of its people. When Adam heard, he stepped back to give some space, but didn’t entirely move away. whatever force was between them before felt like it was pulling them closer together. Reese passed them, eyes flicking between the two with a tilt of her mouth, but she said nothing. Eventually, Marc exhaled and straightened. Work remained. Questions waited. Whatever had killed him once was still out there, unaccounted for.
But for now, Its people were home. And everything was calm, just for once. And Adam Warlock somehow belonged directly in the space beside him. “Stay,” Marc said not as a command, not an invitation dressed as one. Just a statement that left room to choose. Adam looked at him. “I was planning on it,” he replied.
Outside here was a layer of impossibility and questions.
But inside, something careful had been set in motion, something entirely his, and he had intentions on seeing it— all of it— through. And for the first time in a long while, Marc let himself believe that was enough.
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