Crescent Dart LMB
Unleash Crescent Darts forward that can bounce between enemies and Ankhs, dealing damage to enemies.
“Come to me, my Moon Knight!”
The ancient voice boomed in the back of Marc Spector’s brain, momentarily throwing him off his game. It wasn’t as if hearing someone else’s words in his head was something new. He’d been sharing the space with multiple personalities for years now. But this wasn’t Jake Lockley or Steven Grant calling for his attention. It wasn’t even the enigmatic Mr. Knight. This was the boss.
“I’m a bit busy…” Spector replied out loud, as he thrust his white boot into the face of yet another garishly garbed super-villain, “…trying to keep the Zodiac from ransacking one of your temples. You sent me here, remember? So, you’ll need to call back another —”
“NOW,” the voice commanded.
A sudden burst of pain coursed through Spector’s skull. He closed his eyes for a moment to try to clear his head. And when he opened them again, he was no longer at the heart of an epic battle between good and evil. In fact, he was nowhere.
Okay, so “nowhere” might be a bit dramatic. But it’s the best that Spector could come up with to describe the blank white space between planes of reality that he had unexpectedly been transported to. A deafening silence hung in the void. For once, even the other voices in Marc Spector’s head had nothing to say. For a moment, he felt as though he was the only being that existed. But he knew better. If he had been summoned here, he was well aware who had done the summoning.
“I have chosen you for a new battle, my avatar,” the ancient voice said, finally breaking the quiet.
Marc Spector turned to see an enormous figure towering over him, draped in white Egyptian robes. Where his head should have been, instead there sat the skull of a long-beaked bird. Its empty sockets peered into Marc Spector’s soul, judging him. Always judging him.
“Hey, Khonshu,” Spector replied casually to his patron, the Egyptian God of the Moon. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“This Divine Space is where I dwell,” Khonshu replied, not seeing any humor in Spector’s words. “It is from here that I watch the realms beyond and find those who have earned my vengeance…”
“Yeah,” Spector chimed in, “and from here that you sit pretty while I do your dirty work in the real world.”
“This has been our arrangement since your untimely demise years ago,” Khonshu reminded Spector, “a gruesome fate you were spared by my intervention alone. Do you wish to alter our agreement?”
“No…” Spector replied. “But I would like to finish one mission before you toss me into the next one. Maybe that’s just the mercenary in me…”
“I have always appreciated your dedication to a task,” Khonshu said, “but more pressing matters have arisen that require your special attention.”
Something about Khonshu seemed different. He was more confident. More powerful. Less scattered than usual. It was almost like all of the fragmented personas that the Moon God had presented over the years were suddenly fused into one. Spector didn’t know what had caused the change… but he thought it must be nice…
“Fine,” Spector replied, beginning to grow impatient. “Just tell me whose head I need to bust open already.”
Spector’s unfinished encounter with the Zodiac had pushed his level of aggression to the boiling point. He didn’t want to just stand there and talk anymore. He wanted to get back into the fight. Any fight.
“What do you know of vampires?” Khonshu asked curiously.
“That they suck,” Spector responded with a chuckle. “And that Dracula owes me money.”
“As you know,” Khonshu said, once again ignoring Spector’s attempt to infuse some levity into the situation, “I have long served as a protector for travelers in the night.”
“Vicariously, through me and the other Fists of Khonshu before me,” Spector mumbled under his breath, “but sure… go on…”
“Ever since they first crawled from the darkness ages ago, vampires have imperiled my people and my purpose,” Khonshu continued. “And now, I have had a vision that warns of their threat becoming far more permanent.”
“I thought vampires were immortal,” Spector said quizzically. “Not many threats more permanent than that.”
“Immortal, yes,” Khonshu said, “but bound by their curse to the cycle of day and night. They cannot walk in the sun, so their atrocities are limited to the hours under my watch, when the moon hangs high in the sky.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Spector asked. “Is Daylight Savings Time about to end or something?”
“No,” another voice answered. “Daylight itself is about to end.”
Spector turned to see that someone else had unexpectedly entered the Divine Space — an imposing figure in iron armor, wrapped by a dark green cloak. Spector instantly recognized the king of Latveria, Victor von Doom.
“This is sacred territory!” Khonshu yelled. “You shall not foul it with your presence! Banish him, my Moon Knight!”
“Yeah, yeah…” Spector said, reluctantly rushing towards Doctor Doom, “…I’m on it.”
As he ran in his enemy’s direction, Spector reached into a pouch on his belt and grabbed a hand full of crescent-shaped darts. He hurled them in Doom’s direction, but the metal-clad monarch raised his gauntlet and deflected the projectiles as if they were no more than cheap toys.
“I did not come here for a battle, Khonshu,” Doom said, beginning to move his hands in a strange series of gestures. “But if you must turn your champion against me as a matter of honor, so be it.”
As Doom finished his series of hand motions, his armored fists began to glow with mystical flames. Soon, two curved, burning blades materialized in his grip.
“The Daggers of Dormammu should end this Knight before he even begins…” Doom said, with a smirk that you could almost feel behind his faceplate.
“Good luck with that,” Spector said, taking advantage of Doom’s moment of bravado to land a solid fist right to the side of his opponent’s masked face.
Furious, Doom lunged at Spector, swinging his flaming daggers at the white-clad warrior. Spector dodged the thrusts easily at first, but it wasn’t long before his reactions started to slow. He’d barely had time to recover from his battle against the Zodiac, and a twelve-on-one battle tends to take a toll on even the mightiest of heroes.
Doom could see his opponent beginning to falter. He started to attack even more relentlessly, eventually gaining the upper hand. A kick to the chest sent Moon Knight stumbling back. Raising the enchanted blades above his head, Doom thrust them down at Spector, narrowly missing his target’s body. Instead, the blades pierced through Moon Knight’s cape, pinning him to the floor — one Spector didn’t even realize existed in the emptiness of the Divine Space.
“Enough,” Khonshu said. “You have won the right to speak.”
“And when Doom speaks,” the victorious villain responded, casually gesturing for the mystical daggers to vanish, “all had best listen. For he only speaks once.”
Moon Knight pulled himself back to his feet, standing between Doom and Khonshu, just in case Doom had any other tricks up his iron sleeve.
“Few recall the real origin of vampires,” Doom said, “but you and I know the truth, Khonshu. Their race was born from an ancient curse inscribed in the pages of Darkhold, written in the blood of Varnae, the first of their kind. It was these Vampiric Verses that granted them immortal life, and, if my calculations are correct — which they always are — that same spell may hold the key to unlocking the very nature of time itself. I wish to study it further…”
“You know not what you tamper with, foolish mortal,” Khonshu warned.
“I would know full well,” Doom said, “had the Sorcerer Supreme not denied me access to the Darkhold. I have good reason to believe he has stashed it away on another plane of reality for safekeeping.”
“Sounds like Strange made the right choice…” Spector said. “The last thing we need is you to accidentally unleash more vamps on the world!”
“Not the world…” Doom said. “All I want is a small portion of it. And that’s where you come in. If Khonshu were simply to hold his beloved moon in the sky and shroud a single city in eternal night, it would allow me all the time I need to unlock the secrets of the vampires, even without access to the Vampiric Verses themselves.”
“You’re crazy!” Spector said. “That city would instantly become a nesting ground for the creatures of the night!”
“Such an act would endanger countless innocents,” Khonshu added.
“Please,” Doom laughed. “Since when have the gods cared about the lives of a few million measly mortals? Together, we could use the vampires however we wish, then dispose of them completely when we —”
“I will not allow this discussion to continue any further,” Khonshu said sternly, raising a bony hand to silence Doom. “There is far more at stake here than you could ever hope to know. A coming darkness lurking among the gods… a shadow even I may not be able to defeat…”
“And by I, he means me,” Spector mumbled.
“My avatar may have lacked the skill required to remove you from this plane,” Khonshu said, “but I have no such limits…”
“You fool!” Doom cried out as he began to fade from the Divine Space. “You’re making a terrible mistake! Doom will have what he wishes, one way or another!”
As Doom’s voice disappeared, a haunting silence returned to the empty whiteness surrounding Marc Spector. Khonshu was still there, but for once, it seemed the God of the Moon had nothing to say.
“So, what now?” Spector finally asked.
“I must locate the Darkhold at once,” Khonshu replied.
“The book with the spell that makes vampires?” Spector asked, confused. “Isn’t it better off stowed away wherever Strange hid it?”
“Just as the Vampiric Verses created our true enemies,” Khonshu said, “There is another spell within the Book of Sins — the Montesi Formula — that could take their gift away. Permanently.”
“So while you’re cruising the Astral Plane looking for a lost library book,” Spector pondered, “what on Earth am I gonna be doing?”
“Protecting the night and delivering my vengeance,” Khonshu replied, “as you always have.”
“And when Doom lives up to his promise and finds a way to unleash the bloodsucking hordes?” Spector asked.
“Then you must be ready,” Khonshu said. “And so must I.”
“I’m no vampire slayer,” Spector responded. “Isn’t that Blade’s gig? Why not call him?”
“Because the Daywalker is not my Fist of Vengeance!” Khonshu replied defiantly, clearly angered that his own servant would dare question him.
“Also, he is currently unavailable…” Khonshu added quietly.
“All right then,” Spector said, grinning behind his featureless mask. “But those fangers are about to find out that they aren’t the only ones who want blood.”
“I expected no less. Now, go, my Moon Knight…” Khonshu said, his voice once again booming in Marc Spector’s head. “…and serve me.”
Spector blinked for a split second, opening eyes to discover that he was no longer in the Divine Space. Now, he was standing on a New York City rooftop. The silence was replaced by a symphony of sounds, including a scream emanating from a nearby alleyway. He was glad to be home.
As Moon Knight leapt off the edge of the building and swung across the night sky on a grappling cable, his bright white cape billowed out behind him, luminous in the light of the full moon.
It must’ve been a glorious sight to behold, he thought… but if Khonshu and Doom were right about what was to come, Marc Spector knew his costume wouldn’t stay white much longer…
