[center][sub][h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/Z1NfSC67/marc-header.png[/img]
[b][color=black] I N T E R L U D E  # 1[/color]
[color=lightcyan]I N T E R L U D E  # 1[/color][/b][/h1][/sub]
[sub][h2][b][color=black] D R E A M S[/color]
[color=lightcyan]D R E A M S[/color][/b][/h2][/sub]
[sup][color=lightcyan][b][i]One week later...[/i][/b][/color][/sup][/center]
Another successful night out. A couple muggings and a carjacking attempt foiled. Pretty quiet tonight, all things considered. Now I'm in the chopper with Frenchie heading home. Home is a manor on the outskirts of the city with no neighbors for a mile around, one I bought with the money I had saved. Steven made sure to put most of the money we got from our mercenary days into offshore accounts, had about a million in there when we got back to America. That was enough to get the manor and the chopper and all the tools I needed and still have a decent amount left. The rest he spent investing in shares and stocks in both promising start ups and industry titans.

[color=lightgreen][i]'Got just over ten mill now for the record, Miss Newman's hospital bills notwithstanding,'[/i][/color] Steven says to me.

[color=lightcyan][i]'Good job. Got an idea for the next company to invest in: Kord Industries might be on the up even after that explosion that took Ted Kord's life. Veronica Kord is taking over, she's a cold hard bitch but she can pull the company through. Shame about Ted though, seemed like a decent guy.'[/i][/color]

[color=lightcoral][i]'Hey, never know. Maybe Khonshu will resurrect Kord as another Fist,'[/i][/color] Jake chimes in, chuckling.

[b]I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴘʟᴀɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ Kᴏʀᴅ.[/b]

[color=lightcyan][b]"JESUS!"[/b][/color] I twist my head around in surprise to see Khonshu sitting in a seat behind me.

[color=olive][b]"Marc? Are you okay?"[/b][/color] Frenchie asks, concern on his face.

I blink and Khonshu isn't there anymore. I turn to look at Frenchie and nod shakily. [color=lightcyan][b]"Yeah, yeah... Sorry."[/b][/color]

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. We land on the helipad on the manor's rooftop, getting out and heading inside. Frenchie retires to his room while I head downstairs to the kitchen. I flip the light switch on to illuminate the room as I pull off my mask and step over to open the fridge. What greets me is two bananas, a few bottles of water, and a box of donuts that I don't remember ever ordering.

[i][color=lightcoral]'My bad, got some Krispy Kreme this morning. Grant paid for it.'[/color]

[color=lightgreen]'Bloody hell Jake, let me know when you dig into the funds, yeah?'[/color]

[color=lightcoral]'Like you weren't just bragging about having ten million in the bank. [abbr=Whining bastard]Kvetching momzer[/abbr]...'[/color][/i]

I just shake my head with a smile as I pull the box out and open it. Out of the half dozen the box fits there are four left: two strawberry sprinkle and two chocolate sprinkle. [color=lightcyan][i]'Don't tell me there were maple donuts in here, Jake.'[/i][/color]

[color=lightcoral][i]'... Oops.'[/i][/color]

With a sigh I grab a strawberry donut and take a bite. It's pretty good, but maple would've been better.
[hr][center][b][i][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIIBAUyejzc]"Who is this superhero?"[/url]

"Frenchie?"
[sup]"No!"[/sup]
"O'Toole, the police detective?"
[sup]"No way man!"[/sup]
"Jake, the mild-mannered cab driver?"
[sup]"Could be!"[/sup][/i][/b][/center]
I stand from my perch on the rooftop at the sound of a scream below me, tightening the belt around my gi and making sure my eye mask is secure. Leaping off the roof, I land gracefully in the alleyway and see a man with a gun threatening a woman for her purse. She hands it over to him as I speak, [color=lightcoral][b]"Nice night for a walk, eh?"[/b][/color]

The mugger turns to look at me and jumps up with a scream of terror. [b]"Oh no! Hong Kong Phooey!"[/b]

[color=lightcoral][b]"That's right, you little [abbr=Bed-wetter]pisher[/abbr]. Now drop the gun or I'll hit you with the Multiplying Dragon Kick!"[/b][/color] To emphasize my point, I raise my arms up in the air and lift my leg up as if in anticipation of a crane kick.

He doesn't have to be told twice. He drops the gun and the purse then runs out of the alleyway, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. Grinning to myself, I walk up to the purse and pick it up, offering it to the woman. [color=lightcoral][b]"Here you are, ma'am."[/b][/color]

[color=palevioletred][b]"Oh, my hero!"[/b][/color] she cries, taking the purse back. I get the chance to really look at her and see-

[color=lightcoral][b]"L-Layla?"[/b][/color]

Everything's the same as the last time we saw her: skin the color of mocha, deep brown eyes that draw you in and don't let go, dark curls that frame her face beautifully.

There's even the bullet holes in her chest.

She falls to the ground and suddenly I'm not Jake, I'm Marc, and I'm not in some Hub City alleyway, I'm cradling her behind a Jeep in some third world desert shithole as bullets rain down on us. [color=lightcyan][b]"Frenchie's almost here with the evac! Just hang on!"[/b][/color] I keep holding her in one arm while the other presses a torn off shirt sleeve down onto her chest.

Her breathing is weak and raspy, the air from her lungs leaking out of the bullet holes with disgusting whistles. [color=palevioletred][b]"Marc..."[/b][/color]

[color=lightcyan][b]"I'm here... I'm here..."[/b][/color] There's tears running down my face as I keep pressing the rag against her wounds.

Her hand reaches up to caress my face. [color=palevioletred][b]"Ma... [sup][sub]rc...[/sub][/sup]"[/b][/color]

The hand falls limp and suddenly I'm cradling a corpse. I don't know what to do for a second, staring at her in shock. She can't be dead. She's not dead. She's not. I clench my eyes shut and pull her closer, pressing my cheek against hers and letting out choked sobs. [color=lightcyan][b]"Don't do this to me Layla, [i]please[/i]..."[/b][/color]

The rain of bullets stops. I open my eyes to find I'm not hiding behind a Jeep in the desert anymore, I'm in a tomb half buried in sand. Layla's gone and I look down to find bullet holes in my own chest. I fall to my hands and knees, my whole body aching.

[b]Cᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇʀ, ᴍʏ ꜱᴏɴ.[/b]

I look up at the voice to see a statue before me, a man in robes with a bird head. Despite myself, it brings me some comfort. I crawl closer to it.

[b]I ᴀᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.[/b]

Once I've reached the statue, I roll over onto my back and stare into the night sky from a hole in the ceiling. The full moon shines down on me, bathing me in its light. I close my eyes and bask in it.

[b]Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ, Mᴀʀᴄ Sᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ?[/b]

[color=lightcyan][b]"Y-yes..."[/b][/color] I choke out.

[b]Tʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ. Mʏ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ. Mʏ ᴠᴇɴɢᴇᴀɴᴄᴇ. Mʏ [i]Mᴏᴏɴ Kɴɪɢʜᴛ[/i].[/b]

[color=lightcyan][b]"Moon... [sup][sub]Knight...[/sub][/sup]"[/b][/color]

[b]Rɪꜱᴇ, ᴍʏ Fɪꜱᴛ.[/b]

I open my eyes.
[hr][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/bM2bNsgf/wake-up.png[/img]
[sup]Thanks to Lord Wraith for the image edit.[/sup][/center]

I wake with a start, my breathing heavy and ragged. I look over to my alarm clock: 5:23 PM. Didn't oversleep this time. Good.

I grab the earpiece off of my nightstand and put it into my ear. [color=lightcyan][b]"Frenchie? Anything happen while I was out?"[/b][/color]

[color=olive][b]"[i]Bonjour[/i], Marc. Zee 'Midnight Man' struck again last night, stole a painting from zee Museum of Modern Art. His tenth heist in just as many days."[/b][/color]

[color=lightcyan][b]"Looks like I need get on it then. Get the chopper ready."[/b][/color]

[color=olive][b]"[i]Bien sur[/i]."[/b][/color]

I get out of bed and head for the closet to put on my vestments. Time to bust an art thief.