The moonlight, pale and as mournful as lilies shone onto the chessboard through the steel-grated windows. Marc spector sat in the recreation room of the Ravencroft Institute for the criminally insane, as a committed patient. He looked away from the ensuing chess game momentarily to gaze through the secured windows. He observed a bird sitting in the tree just outside the window. He was sure it was a Falcon, perched there and looking in at him.
Marc had been committed for a number of atrocious crimes he had committed, the most severe of which include murder. The courts had said he had once cut a man's face off. Since being at the hospital and receiving extensive treatment he had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, paranoid Schizophrenic hallucinations, and Hero syndrome (a phenomena in which the afflicted desperately crave notoriety or attention for heroic acts, to the extreme of creating catastrophic sidjudge m it seems only they can resolve). Hero syndrome most commonly has manifested itself in arson cases that went too far out of hand for the hero/arson. Dissociative Identity Disorder or Split-Personality as it had always been called before seemed to be the root of Marc's troubling psychoses, according to his institutional psychiatrist. He had developed 3 personas to share his mind with.
He was born Marc Spector. A nondescript Jew growing up in the bronx. But he later became Jake Lockley, a cab driver with some shady connections. He was also Steven Grant, playboy millionaire. However, it was his final alter ego that had ultimately placed Marc into the position to wind up in Ravencroft. He had created the persona of the costumed vigilante Moon Knight, and claimed to have done the egyptian moon god Knoshu's bidding. While under the guise of Moon Knight he performed numerous illicit activities.
Eventually, like many other psychopathic murderers, Marc was arrested and committed after being deemed mentally unsound to stand criminal trial. For months it seemed that Marc had finally received the help he needed and where he could be protected from and against the community.
But, Marc started having his horrible nightmares again. Cold sweat-inducing, scream evoking, night terrors that stirred him from his sleep to the light of the moon shining in on him in his cot. He was convinced, as he stated in the following therapy sessions that he believed Knoshu was sending him a message through his dreams. Though the message was enigmatic to Marc, the content of the dream itself was vividly concise : flame, with no heat, searing him deeper than the flesh. Dark spirits plotting and menacing. A brutal, savage war amid the very streets of New York littering the streets with the bodies of the youth. An ancient tome. All of this interspersed with vistas of the egyptian deserts and mythic symbolism of the egyptian polytheistic lore. "Typical of his schizoid delusions", the good Dr. Leonard Samson proclaimed on one occasion.
Soon, Marc began to stop taking his medication. After waiting patiently in the queue for his "ding biscuits", as the other patients called the thorazine and other various sedatives they were all heavily dosed with, he would cheek his meds instead of swallowing them. He had realized what Knoshu was attempting to convey to him. There was a horrible evil that would occur unless he, Moon Knight, took actions to stop it. He needed to be free of Ravencroft. He needed to fulfill Knoshu's will.
Finally, on a full moon, just a few minutes before the grandfather clock of the rec room struck midnight Marc enacted his escape.
One of the graveyard shifts guards was performing his routine hall patrol, when he noticed movement in the peripheral of his eye in one of the cells. The treatment staff insisted they be called rooms, but they were cells as much as their inhabitants were criminals. The guard shone his flashlight through the window, and was mortified by what he saw. It appeared one of the patients had hung themselves, again. In a panic, the guard pressed the distress alert button on his radio and scrambled for the proper door key. Once the cell door was thrust open the guard rushed in to try and cut the patient down and hope he wasnt too late. He found himself rather surprised however when the patient was lighter than air and seemed to deflate in his grasp. He was holding onto a set of patients clothing that had been stuffed with pillows and blankets and strung from the central light fixture. Another sick joke the guards were constantly subjected to by the more sadistic or humorous patients. Immediately furious, the guard yanked the bundle of cloth from the ceiling and scanned the cell for the assigned patient. He did not even notice as Marc slipped the truncheon from the guards belt, only the whoosh of air as Marc brought it down onto his temple rendering him unconscious.
Marc had not wanted to hurt officer Bryant, but the man didnt drink coffee and therefore the confrontation could not be avoided. The other guards and remaining on-call medical staff had by this time in the evening had already consumed quite a large portion of what was available in the break and security rooms. Marc had taken the precaution of having his prescriptions diluted into the coffee so he would face minimal resistance during his escape. His fellow patient Quentin Beck, or as most knew him Mysterio, was a trusted patient who was allowed to work in the kitchens and had zero qualms with introducing the chemical into the staff's diet.
He had to avoid capture if he wanted to follow his visions and fulfill Knoshu's will, and so could not appear like the asylum escapee he was. So, he stole the white 3-piece suit from the good Dr. Leonard Samson as well as his cane and wing-tipped loafers. In a farewell to the institution, Marc then found a white bag that was often placed over the patients head during constraint to prevent the more violent patients from spitting or biting. He drew the lunar shape of an eclipsed moon on the bag before placing it over his own head and disappearing into the night, a shadow in the light of the night.
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12:27 AM
Dispatch : all units, report. We need officers to investigate a potential breaking and entering at The Met. The internal alarms have been triggered, but not the outside alarms. Security staff reported they had footage of an unidentified suspect atop the roof and have sent their own to apprehend the individual. If you are in the area, please report.
Car 10-05 radio: dispatch, 10-4, officer Mcnally and Officer Medina en route to the Met. Investigating potential 10-15, over.
12:45 AM
Car 10-05 radio: Dispatch, this is car 10-05, officer Mcnally reporting from the Met. Investigating the potential 10-35 here, we're gonna need an ambulance out here the met's security are all laid out. I think one of em got thrown from the roof. No currently visible suspect, still requesting back-up. Officer Medina and i are going to look around the area. Over.
Dispatch: 10-4, over. Car number 10-05 in 5th Avenue area, requesting back-up for 10-35 in progress. Also EMT and paramedic assistance required, a number of ppl are injured at 1000 5th Ave. Please respond, 10-3 over.
12:51 AM
Audio extracted from the patrol car dash-cam footage of squad car 10-05.
(Siren wailing)
(Hurried footsteps)
Officer Mcnally: (to officer Medina) well, what the fuck is this? (To suspect in white) freeze! Drop the cane and put your hands in the air!
Officer Medina: what are you doing at the Met after midnight, huh? The exhibits are closed.
(Silence passes for a few seconds)
Officer Mcnally: i said drop the cane and put your damn hands to the sky!
Officer Medina: damn it, im gonna cuff this clown.
(Sounds of scuffling, resistance and harsh slams)
(Struggle continues)
Officer Mcnally: You have the right to remain silent, asshole!! You have the right to an attorney!! Now get your ass up and into the squad car!!
Officer Medina: (guttural groans)
(Sounds of suspect being apprehended and placed into custody in squad car 10-05).
Officer Mcnally: you alright, Medina?
Officer Medina: bastard broke my arm!!! (Whimpers in pain)
Officer Mcnally over personal radio: Dispatch, suspect apprehended in 10-31 at the Met. Additional charges of about 13 assaults with a deadly weapon, as well as resisting arrest are gonna be pursued with this guy. Bastard sucker-punched the reinforcement officers as soon as they got here and gave me and Medina a pretty good thrashing too. We're gonna need another ambulance, officers injured. But, the suspect is in custody.
1:12 AM
Audio extracted from internal patrol car camera for squad car 10-05
Officer Mcnally: so, what's your name, guy?
Suspect: Moon Knight
Officer Medina: ok, there Mr. Knight you wanna explain to me why you got that bag on your head?
(Silence)
Officer Medina: i mean, the worst most ppl get around Halloween are some kids in costume on their door step, maybe a few eggs and rolls of TP thrown at their house. I get damn near put in traction by some fool breaking into the Met. I thought the holiday seasons were a time for peace on earth and good will towards NYPD.
Officer Mcnally: so, what were you doing there Mr. Knight.
Suspect: the moon led me to a heinous crime so i could stop it, and the moon will not tolerate your interference.
Officer Mcnally: The Moon? That code for something?
(Silence)
Suspect head arched back looking out the rear window of the squad car: I will not allow these misguided villains to stand in your way, I the Moon's Knight of vengeance must carry out your luminous will.
Officer Medina: uhhh, are you seriously talkin' to the moon??!! Like the one the cow jumped over??!!
Suspect: there is much more to the moon than the childish stories you know.
Officer Medina: ok, buddy. (Laughs) and i thought seeing a drunk witch fighting marilyn Monroe at that costume party was gonna be the weirdest thing we saw tonight
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