[center][img]https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/9/99/MoonKnight.png/revision/latest?cb=20150218201439[/img][/center] Marc wandered into the dining room like he had all the time in the world. Samuels greeted him and told him that dinner would still be a little way off, as DuChamp had requested a complicated meal which the chef was all too willing to accommodate him with. [color=39b54e]“Nedda,”[/color] Samuels had said, [color=39b54e]“loves the challenge.”[/color] Changing the subject, Marc cut to the chase and asked his direct question. [b]“How exactly did Mr Grant hear about me, might I ask? Did he have any kind of research material, referrals or other information about me? If I could familiarize myself with it, maybe I could answer any questions he may have about me when he gets back from New York.”[/b] Samuels smiled, no doubt pleased to help his employer. [color=39b54e]“Absolutely sir, I’ll bring those right away.”[/color] With that, the shorter man scurried away to fetch the data whilst Spector conferred with Duchamp and Marlene, who were laughing together, before regaining their composure as they saw Marc approach. [b]“You two seem like you’re getting awfully chummy. What have you been talking about?”[/b] [color=0054a6][b]“Oh, nothing much.”[/b][/color] Jean Paul answered. Marlene laughed. [b]“Nothing much, huh?”[/b] Marc sideyed the pair of them. [b]“You know it’s a bit of a dick move if you’re telling stories about me to her, which I don’t even remember.”[/b] [color=0054a6][b]“Oui, Marc. Fair enough. I assure you in the future I’ll tell you the stories at the same time as Marlene so you can both enjoy the time you got blackout drunk in Thailand and--”[/b][/color] [b]“...yep, I don’t want to know where this story is going either! New rule: If I don’t remember it and it’s embarrassing, it didn’t happen.”[/b] Marlene laughed and grabbed his forearm. [color=ed1c24][b]“It’s OK, Marc. It was PG.”[/b][/color] Samuels returned with a manilla folder marked “Spector, Marc” and handed ito him, before quickly moving away to check on events in the kitchen. [b]“I’ll tell you both one thing for free, though. This place, that guy--”[/b] he pointed where Samuels just was, [b]“--creepy as fuck.”[/b] [color=ed1c24][b]“Oh don’t be like that.”[/b][/color] Marlene said. [color=0054a6][b]“He’s been treating us just fine.”[/b][/color] Asserted DuChamp. In a hushed tone, Spector brought the other two together. [b]“I’ve been looking around this place. There’s some creepy room out back that looks like it was made for Travis Bickle.”[/b] [color=0054a6][b]“Oh, sure. When I say Pepa Bonafe you look at me like I have two heads, but when it comes to ze Scorsese…”[/b][/color] [b]“And the whole side of this mansion is artificially done up to look like inner city urban apartments.”[/b] Spector finished. [color=ed1c24][b]“Well, what exactly are you accusing them of, Marc?”[/b][/color] [b]“Well--- I don’t know. But doesn’t that strike you as weird?!”[/b] [color=ed1c24][b]“Well, if what you’re saying’s true, then yes, I suppose it’s weird. But the man’s clearly got a level of wealth that would detach anyone from normality somewhat. It doesn’t mean he’s doing anything bad.”[/b][/color] [b]“I’m not saying anyone is necessarily ‘bad’. I’m just saying this whole situation weirds me out.”[/b] [b]“Anyway, I just Asked Jeeves for the material his boss has on me. Maybe we can get a sense of what exactly he wants me for off of that, and if nothing else maybe it might tug at some memories.”[/b] Spector held out the folder. [b]“Anyway, couldn’t hurt.”[/b] Marc opened the folder, there was a large photograph of him in his marine uniform paperclipped to a basic profile document that ran through his name, age, rank and US Marine Corps history. There were other photographs of him on tour in various locations within but Marc focused on scouring the basic information first. Hoping something, anything, might jog his memory. Then it hit him like a bullet to the brain. Samuels walked up from behind and whispered into Marc’s ear. [color=39b54e]“Marc Spector. [i]Maa Kheru[/i].”[/color] Spector’s head shot back like he had an electric current shot up his spine. His eyes flickered like he was having a seizure, his mouth was agape and he dropped to the ground. [color=0054a6][b]“Samuels! What did you do?!”[/b][/color] DuChamp shouted. Marlene stood by shocked, before regaining control of her senses and trying to roll Marc onto his side, and ensuring his airway was clear and that he wouldn’t swallow his own tongue. The Frenchman swept a solid ornate candlestick up from the dining table and brandished it threateningly. [color=0054a6][b][h2]“Samuels! What have you done?!?”[/h2][/b][/color] [center][h1][b]🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑[/b][/h1][/center] In a space between places the man in white fell. He landed with a solid bump, despite the desert sands. He was in a perfectly white suit, tailored immaculately as if by the gods themselves. With an all white face as well, marked with a crescent on his forehead that denoted his patron, he picked himself up from the sand, dusted himself off and adjusted his suit. He began to walk. The traveller in white walked the cosmic sands until he came upon another. One with the head of a jackal took his hand. And just as Khonshu would assist many in finding their path, the jackal-headed Anubis led the Traveller in the white suit to exactly where he needed to be. There were a set of scales, but no marketplace. A ship which sailed the cosmic winds with an audience of deities. A beast. And the scribe. Anubis walked to the scales and removed the pure white feather of Ma’at. He asked the Traveller in White for a request so politely that he could never refuse, and with permission granted, tore the Traveller’s head off and rested it on one side of the scales where the feather had once been. Anubis called and Khonshu brought forth what had been requested. It was a small doll in military fatigues. It writhed between the grasp of both gods’ touch. It ran on base desire and impulse. Libido, violence and instant gratification. Anubis held the doll at an arm’s distance. Ammut licked her crocodile lips. Anubis dropped the doll onto the scales, and then set to work adjusting the scales. The sides reached balance. Thoth nodded his ibis head to the god of death. He picked the head up off of the scales and threw it back to the Traveller in White who caught it comfortably. Anubis threw the doll to Khonshu who approached his avatar. His chosen one. The Traveller re-attached his own head. To do otherwise would be impolite in the company of gods. Khonshu approached. The god of the Moon grabbed the Traveller in White by the back of his head, his head snapped back as he screamed silently. His mouth opened from the god’s shockingly strong grip. The god held the figure above the Traveller’s gaping maw, the instant seemed to last for a minute. The fall seemed to last forever. Spector felt himself being consumed. He felt himself consume. He once again had form. [center][h1][b]🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑[/b][/h1][/center] The Frenchman picked up a solid ornate candlestick and brandished it threateningly. [color=0054a6][b]“Samuels! What have you done?!?”[/b][/color] Spector coughed, hacked and rolled onto one knee. Holding an open palm out, reaching for his friend to wait. [b]“Exactly what I told him to do, Frenchie.”[/b] [center][h1][b]🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑[/b][/h1][/center]