Chapter Text
There was never not way too much going on in the world of superheros, and Marc hated it. All these Avengers running amuck, fighting aliens and monsters and god knows what else, he had no business in. They got to deal with the boring ‘world-threat’ things. Marc, on the other hand, had to do the rest. The dirty work of beating men who stalked women and night into a bloodied pulp behind a dumpster. The dirty work of slicing the throats of thieves in the shadows. The dirty work of putting a bullet in the head of some lowlife low-par street killer.
In short, Marc got to do the fun stuff.
Matt had a different approach to his work.
Sure, it was an enjoyable experience any time he finally caught a criminal he’d been stalking, or the relief of getting out of a fight clean. Yet he didn’t have the same manic satisfaction as Marc. Marc liked to protect travelers of the night. Drunk women walking home, children who’ve lost their parents, homeless people trying to find a place to sleep. Matt did too, no doubt. But Marc also liked doing more than just throwing a few punches. He didn’t have the same code as the avengers or their wannabes. He had his own. Which was to be The Fist of Khonshu. Onto those who hurt, take, and kill, Marc did the same. He nearly got off to it.
But Matt didn’t. While Marc proudly wore blood on his white suit, Matt would make a midnight trip to the laundromat after.
Their paths rarely crossed, and often Matt wouldn’t really notice Marc was there in a fight as he was too focused on other things, as well as being blind. (Which was ironic as Marc wore white in order to make people see him in any light, but it didn’t exactly work with a blind man.) Yet Matt had heard of Marc, and Marc had heard of Matt.
So they were here.
Matt had been tied up in staking out an ‘underground’ operation for a while in an abandoned warehouse. Some criminals selling illegal weapons. Matt was on it, as he was anyone breaking the law.
Marc had followed the trail of some guys who’d been linked to murders of innocents on the streets at night. Marc was on it, as he was anyone who laid so much as a finger on such people.
It was dusk by a harbor, stragglers heading home for the night, the waves a gentle noise in the background of it all. An unassuming old fish packing plant stood beside the docks, crumbling bricks and a faded sign across the warehouse toting ‘Fin-tactic eats!’ Matt didn’t see it and could care less as he was focused on the ongoings inside. Marc scoffed at it as he knew the best fish came from Gena’s diner. That woman could make trash taste good.
Either way, they both were on top of the building. Marc had dropped onto it with some assistance of his cape, Matt having taken a simpler way by the ladder on the side. They noticed each other immediately.
“Daredevil.” Marc said on instinct.
“Moon Knight.” Matt chimed back.
“Marc.” He corrected him.
“It’s Matt.” The other replied with his name, confused.
“No, I’m Marc.”
“You’re Moon Knight.”
“No, I-ugh.”
They paused for a moment, and Marc explained,
“I’m Moon Knight, yes, technically, but right now I’m Marc.”
“Wait, I’m confused.”
“I gathered that. I’m not finished.”
Matt crossed his arms, annoyed with Marc’s sharp tongue, but kept listening keenly.
“Moon Knight is an alter of mine.”
“Yes.”
“And typically he’d be fronting during an operation where some bad guys need their throats slit,”
“Okay.”
“But he’s not right now, so I am. Marc. I’m Marc.”
“Got it. So you don’t want to slit some guys throats?”
“No-well, yes. Fuck. Look, you’re Matt Murdock.”
“The one and only.”
“And you’re Daredevil.”
“Yep.”
“I am Moon Knight, and I’m Marc, but we aren’t the same.” Marc said, expecting Matt to cut back in, but he didn’t. He waited. “I have DID. Moon Knight and I are in the same body, but we aren’t the same person. I am Marc Spector, but tonight I’m pretending to be Moon Knight because Moon Knight won’t front.”
Matt took a minute, and then nodded.
“Got it. Hi, Marc. It’s nice to meet you.” Matt said, reaching out to shake his hand. Marc took the opportunity.
“Now leave. Hell’s Kitchen is my territory. I’ve got this from here.”
“Too bad. They’re hurting my people. I’ve got it from here.”
They sized each other up, drawing back from the handshake. Neither wanted to fight the other. It would be counter intuitive.
“Let’s just team up for the night, okay? I know Moon Knight doesn’t like working as a team, but right now it’s our best bet.”
“And I’m not Moon Knight. So let’s go.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Originally they had intended to keep quiet, to scope out the building before engaging in any violence. They had, barely, until Marc sneezed. It wasn’t his fault they had gunpowder in the boxes the two were hiding behind. Maybe if Moon Knight was fronting things would be easier, but there was no going back now. The criminals found them, leading to a pretty gruesome fight.
Marc had taken the guys on the ground floor of the warehouse, using the light weight of his cape to his advantage as he leapt from person to person, caving in their faces with a bludgeon of a spike-knuckled fist.
Daredevil swung himself up onto the second story stairs and threw any guy who came towards him off onto the concrete ground after wrestling. For a bunch of underground criminals who had evaded the law for so long, they weren’t particularly good at fighting.
In the aftermath of punches, kicks, and tosses, Marc’s hands were bloodied and vile while Matt was out of breath. They took an apprehensive moment to look around to see if anyone else was left. Silence.
“I’ll have the police come to confiscate their weapons and the hospital take care of them.” Matt assured, waving over to the crowd of knocked out guys behind him. Marc hesitated.
“Well, I didn’t exactly leave much of the guys I took on to be salvaged.” He admitted, looking back at the gorey scene he left. “But I’m gonna stay here to see if anyone else shows up. To be careful. I’ll probably take the roof.”
Matt nodded as Marc made his way up the bloody stairs and ascended amongst the brick. All the while Matt had taken out a pager he used for the police, but it beeped awkwardly. Fuck.
Marc liked the view from the roof. He could see a fair amount of Manhattan and the streets he scanned for cars that could possibly harbor more of the group he’d killed downstairs. The wind off the bay was cool and refreshing, so he took off his stuffy mask and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment to rest. That was interrupted as he heard the stairs rattle as someone approached the roof. Marc jerked his head over, but his shoulders fell in relief when it was just Matt.
“Damn cell service didn’t work down there. I figured it’d be better up here.” He explained, holding up his pager.
“Makes sense. Not like they’d need to be texting anybody in an illegal weapons ring.” Marc shrugged. He heard Matt’s pager beeping beside him with some sort of code to let Matt know what he was typing in. Marc let the serene moment settle.
“Alright, well the police have been notified. They’ve got it from here, we can probably head out.” Matt explained, but neither of them moved. In fact, Matt sat down beside him. It was quiet for a moment.
“The breeze is nice.” Matt said.
“Yeah,” Marc agreed. “And I’ve always liked sunsets.”
“Makes sense, being Moon Knight and whatever.”
“Mhm. I just like to watch the colors mix with the sky, too.” Marc explained. His tough exterior fell when he wasn’t faced with any sort of danger, and admittedly he didn’t mind working with Matt then. They made a good team.
Matt laughed. “Well, I can’t really appreciate the picturesque view, but good for you.” Despite the situation, he meant it good-naturedly. Marc smiled.
“Do you want me to describe it to you?”
“Go for it.”
“Well, the sun is more orange by now. It’s just visible over the townhouses. The outer parts of it are pink, almost maroon. It makes the whole sky yellow by now. The townhouses are a rusty brown, but darker in the shadows of the glare.”
“The same color as your hair.” Matt remarked, turning his head towards Marc.
“Brown hair? How could you tell? I thought you were blind. That was your whole…thing. Though does that really count seeing as you can make out general shapes? Isn’t that the…radar sense stuff?” Marc questioned with an offhand gesture towards Matt.
“Yeah. Your nose has a slight hook to it, a bump on the bridge. Your hair is curly. I assumed your hair would be brown given those features. It just worked. Are you Jewish?”
“Yeah. Father was a rabbi, too.” Marc replied. Matt nodded then hesitated before asking another question.
“But don’t you worship an Egyptian god? How does that work?”
“Aren’t you catholic but dress up as a devil every night to catch criminals? How does that work?”
“Touché, Marc. Touché.”
They both had caught their breath from the fight now. They didn’t have any excuse left to stay, especially with the sirens in the distance. Apprehensively, Matt stood up. Marc followed suit.
“Well, it was good fighting with you,” Matt said, then added, “Marc.”
“And the same to you.” He replied, putting his mask back on. “Until next time.”
“Until next time.”
Marc leapt from the building into the now dark oblivion of the night, and Matt turned to head home for the night. Or to the laundromat.