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Posted by Moon Knight
on 11/21/2008, 6:05 am
12.191.61.45
Now Marc Specter endlessly scours the night, searching for evil. His body and very identity shattered from his service to Khonshu, who controls his life...and just may bring about his death.
Moon Knight slumped against the wall. His wounds were bleeding freely. It had taken too much time and effort in defeating the Crimson Path warrior. Marc struggled to lift his wounded arm up and turned on his earpiece. “I’m gonna need low level evac drop the line.”
When static was the only response Moon Knight fiddled with the small device making sure it hadn’t been damaged in the fight. When everything appeared okay he tried once more. “Frenchie?”
Moon Knight said aloud as he made his way to the window sill and pulled the curtains back letting in the little light from the street lamp nearby. He pulled out a small black container from behind his back. Lifting the lid back he snapped a small vial inside and spread the Loctite field dressing across the deep wound in his arm. After it cured a wrap was applied and a second vial was broken and doused across the wound on his abdomen. “Damn you DuChamp.”
The pain was starting to grow and his vision starting to blur. There was a serious possibility of his bleeding out if he blacked out the Loctite was not meant for long term applications just something until he could get the attention he needed. Pulling a silver hypodermic with long needle from the same kit he clenched his teeth as he pressed the tip deep into his arm then just above the wound to his abdomen. The Novocain and Cortisone quickly flowed through his system and the blackness swelled in his vision. “Frenchie I’m gonna need that evac…”
Frenchie brought the Mooncopter into a hover above the Manhattan high rise. It seemed secure enough but the alarm activation was so rare that he knew there had to be something behind it. Deep down he thought it was probably just one of the newer bums downstairs that had wondered up and gotten lucky enough to somehow bypass the other securities.
He should have shook the thought from his head even as it entered. He should have known there was no way that was possible. He should have been more careful before bringing the Mooncopter in for a landing on the hidden recessed pad that extended upon the proper signal. Then again he was Jean Paul Duchamp ex mercenary, fighter and one hell of a lover more than any of the others lately so maybe that was why his defenses were down more so than usual. Or it could be that he was beyond pissed at Marc and his thoughts were more focused on that instead of where they should have been.
Frenchie stepped through the plexi-steel corridor when his hairs stood on end from years of instinct. He paused and stared into the darkness that lay before him. His fingers coiled around the weapon in his hand and he lifted it at the shadow.
He never even heard the strike from behind. It came swift and silently, a blow that would have normally incapacitated anyone else, but who ever this was didn’t know about his artificial legs. The blade tore through the material that covered them and the sound rung out through the darkness.
Frenchie spun leading with his metal leg and his attacker ducked beneath it and with a nonchalant air brought the butt of his weapon back and up into Frenchie’s chin. It knocked him back nearly completely off his feet but Grendel stepped up and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled Frenchie back up before releasing him and standing back and twirling his forked blade.
Frenchie kicked out again and Grendel blocked down with the blades. The scraping sound from metal on metal screeched through the air. Grendel fainted forward then brought the back end of his staff in, forcing Frenchie to nearly over extending himself in the dodge but he was still able to slap the incoming blades away from his face.
A quick reverse and spin brought Frenchie’s hand down hard across Grendel’s face. He backed away and smiled. “You’re not as good as everyone’s been saying are you?”
Grendel backed away his forked blades twirled behind him his hand behind his back the blades pointed out behind and beside his head. “I have created a dark legend based around overwhelming awareness and indomitable skill.”
“Its all a lie.” Frenchie drove in lashing out several attacks but each was avoided with a slight movement by Grendel.
Neither combatant made contact with the other and Frenchie soon realized that he was being toyed with like the mouse to the cat. The look in his eyes was not missed by Grendel.
“This combat is almost masturbation. Boring and self-indulgent.” Grendel’s forked blades came out from behind his back. He drove the shaft forward and the razor-sharp blades pierced Frenchie’s chest. His eyes widened and everything stopped for him. He was surprised how little pain he felt as Grendel moved close.
Grendel held him up with the blades the blood ran down coming almost to his hands before Grendel snapped his wrist and Frenchie fell to the ground at his feet.
He stood for several minutes staring at his victim as Frenchie’s chest rose and fell with the time between the movements growing with each one. “I came into a place void o all light, which bellows like the sea in tempest, when it is combated by warring winds. The darkness is ever encompassing with no light able to pierce it. Not even the light of your moon.”
Grendel stepped away, his mask fading into the darkness just as Frenchie shuddered. A death rattle escaping his lips as Grendel disappeared.
TBC
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