[center][sub][h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/3mBGLY7B/moon-knight-header.png[/img]
[b][color=black] I S S U E  # 2[/color]
[color=lightcyan]I S S U E  # 2[/color][/b][/h1][/sub]
[sub][h2][b][color=black] E Y E S  W I T H O U T  A  F A C E[/color]
[color=lightcyan]E Y E S  W I T H O U T  A  F A C E[/color][/b][/h2][/sub]
[sup][h3][b][color=black] P A R T  T W O[/color]
[color=lightcyan]P A R T  T W O[/color][/b][/h3][/sup]
[sup][color=lightcyan][b][i]One day later...[/i][/b][/color][/sup][/center]
I'm in the middle of breaking a guy's arm when I hear the feedback of a radio in my earpiece. [color=orange][b]"Mr. Knight, I got your info on the dead girl,"[/b][/color] Detective O'Toole says.

I grab the guy whose arm I just broke by the head and slam his face into the floor. [color=lightcyan][b]"Little busy but I can talk,"[/b][/color] I say, flinging a crescent dart into the barrel of a pistol. The thug tries to shoot anyway, only for the gun to backfire and blow up in his hands, taking his fingers with it. He falls to his knees and clutches at his fingerless hand, screaming in agony.

[color=orange][b]"Won't take long. We contacted her parents in Indiana. Said she moved to the Hub to be closer to her boyfriend, found a job as a housekeeper for some rich guy."[/b][/color]

I duck under a baseball bat, using one hand to grab it and the other to send a palm into my attacker's stomach. His grip falters and I take the bat from his hands, swinging it at his head. The bat breaks in half as it smashes into his forehead. He's down for the count. [color=lightcyan][b]"Alright. You talk to the boyfriend?"[/b][/color]

[color=orange][b]"We did, he said she didn't tell him who she worked for. Gave us her phone though and we cracked it. After lookin' through her messages we found a number she had been messagin' about the job."[/b][/color]

[color=lightcyan][b]"You know who the number is for?"[/b][/color] I ask, slamming my fist into the last guy's jaw and feeling the bone crack and splinter beneath my knuckles. He goes down. 

[color=orange][b]"Yep. Gerald Hooper, local plastic surgeon. We got an address, 224 West Baker Street. We're working on getting a warrant, but that doesn't mean you can't step in and get some answers."[/b][/color]

Plastic surgeon? I recall the girl's face. The skin was removed with medical precision. She wasn't butchered, she was [i]operated on[/i]. [color=lightcyan][b]"Thanks, detective."[/b][/color]

[color=orange][b]"Don't mention it, Mr. Knight. Bring that bastard down."[/b][/color] My earpiece goes silent.

I look around at the battered thugs, walking up to the screaming guy cradling his hand and sending a fist into his face that knocks him out. I slip a hand under my hood and press down on my earpiece. [color=lightcyan][b]"Frenchie, put in an anonymous tip to the police. Drug deal at 610 Lemire Avenue. Perps are down, they just need to come in and clean up. Come pick me up from here too."[/b][/color]

[color=olive][b]"[i]Bien sûr, mon ami.[/i]"[/b][/color]

Ten minutes later and I'm riding in the chopper with Frenchie, heading to the address. It's in Jury Street, the part of the city where the rich folks live. Closer to the rest of the city is high end apartments and condos, the further out you get is when it starts to become manors and mansions ranging from "a little bigger than an average house" to "the size of a fortress". Our guy's house is on the smaller side, three stories tall and not too massive.

Once we're in position, I open the cockpit door and leap out, using my cape to slow my fall as I glide down into the backyard. I land on two feet and make my way to the back door, jiggling the handle only to find it's locked. I click my tongue in mild annoyance, then raise a boot and kick the door open. I step inside, finding myself in the kitchen. Time to find this bastard.

I stalk my way through the house, finding a door that's bolted shut with five different locks. Interesting. I make my way upstairs, checking every room until I finally find it: a bedroom, with a man snoring loudly in the bed. Hooper. I walk up to the bed and pull the man out of it, throwing him to the floor. He wakes up, looking up at me in terror before letting out a scream. [b]"P-please, don't hurt me! Take whatever you want!"[/b] he cries.

[color=lightcyan][b]"I'm not interested in your property. What I am interested in is that door you've got locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Open it for me,"[/b][/color] I say, looming over him.

[b]"No, no! You can't go down there!"[/b]

[color=lightcyan][b]"Do you want to lose your face like that girl you dumped in the river?"[/b][/color] To emphasize my point, I pull out a crescent dart, running a finger over the razor sharp edge.

[b]"Oh God... I-I'll take you down there..."[/b] He pulls himself to his feet and I let him move over to the nightstand to grab a key ring. The two of us make our way down the stairs to the door. Slowly but surely, he opens all the locks and then pushes the door open. It leads down a flight of stairs into the basement. I shove him forward and he leads the way down.

What I find down there is a makeshift operating room, a cold metal operating table next to another table with an assortment of scalpels and other medical tools. There's a large cage in the corner of the room, where a woman lays sleeping on the floor. [color=lightcyan][b]"Wake her up,"[/b][/color] I say. Hooper nods shakily, stepping up to the cage and rattling it.

The girl wakes up, turning over to look at him. Her face is missing, just like the girl from the river. She looks at Hooper with terror in her eyes. [b]"What are you going to do to me?"[/b] she asks, voice quivering.

[color=lightcyan][b]"He's not going to do anything,"[/b][/color] I say, stepping forward so she can see me. [color=lightcyan][b]"I'm here to free you."[/b][/color] I gesture for Hooper to unlock the cage and he does. The girl pulls herself to her feet slowly, then runs out of the cage as soon as the door is open. She doesn't run for the exit, though. She runs for the table with the scalpels.

She grabs one and runs back to Hooper, screaming in rage. She raises the scalpel as he cries out, [b]"No, don't!"[/b] I don't intervene as she takes the scalpel and stabs it into his neck. He falls to the ground and she goes down with him, landing on top of him and stabbing the scalpel into his neck over and over again. He starts choking on his own blood, his screams turning into wet gurgles.

I watch. It takes a few minutes for her to stop stabbing his corpse. She stands, covered in blood and shaking. [color=lightcyan][b]"I'll get the cops here. They'll take you to a hospital. Get you some medical help."[/b][/color]

[b]"... What the hell am I supposed to do now? My life is over. He took... He took my [i]face[/i]. Made me wear other girls' faces,"[/b] the girl says, dropping the scalpel.

[color=lightcyan][b]"You can get skin grafts. There's a man I know that can cover your operation. What's your name?"[/b][/color]

[b]"... Brianna. Brianna Newman."[/b]

[color=lightcyan][b]"I'll make sure that operation gets paid for, Miss Newman."[/b][/color]

She continues shaking, then falls to her knees and begins to sob. I walk over to her and place a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't react to it, just keeps crying. I stay with her until she has no more tears left to cry.