Post by Moon Knight on Mar 13, 2019 3:46:54 GMT
Timeline: First Moon Knight Story - most recent
Previous Threads: N/A
Characters Involved: Marc Spector/Moon Knight; Johnathan Crane/Scarecrow
Location: Psychiatric Hospital in Detroit, Michigan
Numb.
Not quite in pain, but definitely an all over numbness washed over his body as Marc Spector furrowed his brow and opened his eyes a crack. His head was swimming, fuzzy, dizzy, but awash in a lovely calm and comfort, feeling it flow through his veins, into his heart, and about his temples. A gentle, secure sort of numb, one not unlike slipping into a dream, or slipping between this life and the one that comes after. Marc was on his back, that much was sure, bright white searing his eyes as he attempted to become more aware, and various pings and beeps just barely seeping into his clouded mind, along with the muffled rumblings of a deep, scolding voice.
[Marc...Marc, wake up...] it whispered, becoming clearer now the more he shifted and stirred. [You know you're in trouble. Lost. They're coming in. Coming for you.]
“...who's coming...?” he replied, trying in vain to shake off the blurriness that wrapped about his skin like a quilt, but numbness bound him to the bed he lay in, nearly drifting back into sweet, safe slumber.
That is, until another voice broke through, clear as a bell, unrecognized, yet eerily familiar. “You're awake.”
“Marlene?” Marc forced himself into alertness at the sound of her, trying to pull himself upright with a start, only to find his arm encased in a cast, most of his bared skin wrapped and bandaged, and the pull of a needle buried into his arm sending a sharp pain through him, followed by the dulled and muted ache his whole body was suffering under the blessing that was a steady dose of morphine. But none of that mattered as he stared at the blonde woman in a white coat, not sure when she had started working as a medical practitioner...or even if this was real in the first place. “What...where am I?”
The doctor raised her eyebrow as she pulled his charts off the end of the bed and busied herself with them. “One of those faces, I suppose,” she said with a smirk and a silent huff of a laugh. The bony bird-faced god of the Moon was standing behind her in the corner of the small, mostly empty room, arms crossed, watching him as if merely a statue, with empty, judging eyes. “But, no, not Marlene, sorry. My name is Doctor Morrison and I'll be taking care of you, Mr...” she checked the clipboard in her hands again, “...Lockley, correct?”
The man in gauze stared at her blankly. “Spector.”
“Spector?” she repeated, taken slightly aback. “Your driver's license says your name is Jacob Lockley. At least, the one that you had on you when you were brought into the ER.”
“No.” Marc snapped, all too quickly, furrowing his brow to better focus, shaking off the cobwebs still clinging to the inside of his brain. “I mean, yes, that's right...more or less.”
[What is wrong with you?] Khonshu snapped from the corner, his voice booming and yet no part of his suited figure gave even the slightest twitch of movement. [You had the perfect cover and you tossed it aside!]
“It was a mistake...its just...she looks just like...”
The Moon god scoffed. [Even your weak mind is not so feeble to believe that any luscious female with golden locks is your former lover. Focus. You can't stay here. They'll force you to stay here. Move, Marc. Quickly.]
“Alright, alright I'm leaving, back the hell off!” Marc shouted, his teeth gnashing, only to find Doctor Morrison, staring at him with both brows raised in alarm and confusion, clearly realizing there was more disturbance here than initially noted in her paperwork.
“I'm afraid you can't leave yet, Mr. Lockley. Not for at least another seventy-two hours.”
[See? I told you. They won't let you leave.]
He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that hissing any sort of swear or snap at the skull-headed figure would only spell greater doom for him, opting instead to ignore him and focus on Morrison. “What? Seventy-two—why?”
“It's standard protocol,” she replied, clicking her pen a few times, a more serious expression painting across her soft features as she jotted down a few notes to his file. “Seventy-two hour safety watch, and then up to fourteen days in-patient therapy.” Dr. Morrison took in a deeper breath through her nose and finally approached Marc's bedside, taking a seat in the chair beside him. Khonshu faded into the shadows of the wall and then reappeared at the opposite side of the bed, ever present and right over his shoulder like a mist. Marc kept his eyes down at his knees under the crisp white sheets, not acknowledging either of them. “Now, Jacob, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I need you to answer honestly. Can you tell me what happened last night? Any sort of stressor or difficulties you might have been going through?”
“I'm...I'm not sure what you mean.”
“Jacob. Can you tell me why you jumped?”
“So, who are we talking to today?”
Marc rolled his eyes and bit his tongue at the sugary sweet and rather blasé attitude towards his split mind, especially at how condescending it always came across. Or rather, came across to Khonshu, who made sure to loudly remind him at any given moment that they were treating him as a child and would never let him leave, that he had to get out now and there was something very wrong happening outside these walls. He had tried escaping the hospital a few times, just to get the Moon god to shut the hell up about it, but this only made the situation worse. As apparently someone who tried to jump off a building to his death, which he could not for the life of him even remember doing, trying to break through bulletproof glass with his bare fist until it was bloody didn't exactly make him look like he was on the road to recovery.
Between this, a mental shift here or there to one of his other facets to try their luck on escape, plus several heated arguments with Khonshu to just leave him the hell alone and let him figure this out without divine meddling, Marc Spector's mental state was deemed too fragile and too great of a harm to himself and others to allow him access to the greater common area among other patients in the ward.
“Does it matter?” he answered the orderly, practically spitting out the answer.
“Of course. I want to be sure I'm addressing you properly. Would be rude otherwise.”
After a long moment of staring out the unbreakable window towards the gardens set up pleasantly outside, Marc sighed, rolling out his strained shoulder that was bearing the brunt of his broken arm's weight. “Marc. The only one of us that probably belongs in here.”
[You say such things, and yet you know they are not true. Their lies are poisoning you, my Aspect. Despite the weakness of your mind and will, you mustn't fall for their tricks...you must escape this place!]
Spector didn't answer, only narrowing his worn, brown eyes over the orderly's shoulder at Khonshu to get his point across.
“Still hearing voices, Marc?”
Again, he didn't answer.
“You know, I happened to have studied schizophrenia rather extensively, and there's an effective medication for those like you that have your symptoms,” he pulled a bottle from his scrubs pocket and turned it back and forth in his hands, causing the pills inside to rattle and shake. “I think it would be best for you if you gave it a shot.”
[It's a trick. Don't take them.]
“I'm not schizophrenic,” Marc replied flatly, his glare turning upon the man in front of him.
“According to most case studies, you are a textbook example. Believe me, I've seen a number of cases, much like yours, and I know what I'm looking at. Auditory hallucinations, delusions, paranoia, it's all right there, black and white. You should be taking these regardless. It will help you center and focus, keep you balanced.”
[He's trying to poison your mind, Marc. Don't fall for his lies!]
The bottle was practically forced into his hands, and Spector shoved it back, as if it were the poison Khonshu warned of. “I don't want it. I'm not taking this.”
The orderly grunted with a displeased look, but quickly tried to make himself seem pleasant again. “Look, you don't have to take it. But I'll have to note that you refused medication...which could prolong your stay here. You don't want that now, do you? At the rate you've been going, Marc, the behavior you've exhibited, the lack of improvement...it's very likely you'll have to remain here long-term. If you refuse medication, that is.”
Marc's body stiffened, his blood turning to ice. He looked over at the bird-faced deity, then back to the orderly, mind wavering and face paling.
[Don't. You. Dare.]
“I can leave if I take this?”
[Marc, don't fall for the tricks of Set! There must be another way out of this place!]
“It will look much better on your report that you cooperated and started proactively handling your illness rather than suffering through it. It's for your health. Your well-being.”
“And the voices...I won't hear them anymore?”
“The hallucinations should subside, yes.”
[You take that poison, you will no longer have access to my power! Is that what you want? Are you giving up so soon, you feeble little ingrate? Since when does the divine Fist of Khonshu quit?]
“You wanted me to leave this damn place as fast as possible, and now that I have a means to, you tell me not to! Piss off and let me do this my way for once!”
The orderly leaned back in his chair, eyes wide at the sudden outburst. Marc glowered at him and snatched the pill bottle, teeth gritted and bared as he tried to pry the safety cap off the top. The other man instead put his hand over Marc's, taking the bottle back. He carefully shook out two capsules and placed them into the patient's hand. “This is all you'll need for now. I'll be sure to note it in your file.”
Previous Threads: N/A
Characters Involved: Marc Spector/Moon Knight; Johnathan Crane/Scarecrow
Location: Psychiatric Hospital in Detroit, Michigan
Numb.
Not quite in pain, but definitely an all over numbness washed over his body as Marc Spector furrowed his brow and opened his eyes a crack. His head was swimming, fuzzy, dizzy, but awash in a lovely calm and comfort, feeling it flow through his veins, into his heart, and about his temples. A gentle, secure sort of numb, one not unlike slipping into a dream, or slipping between this life and the one that comes after. Marc was on his back, that much was sure, bright white searing his eyes as he attempted to become more aware, and various pings and beeps just barely seeping into his clouded mind, along with the muffled rumblings of a deep, scolding voice.
[Marc...Marc, wake up...] it whispered, becoming clearer now the more he shifted and stirred. [You know you're in trouble. Lost. They're coming in. Coming for you.]
“...who's coming...?” he replied, trying in vain to shake off the blurriness that wrapped about his skin like a quilt, but numbness bound him to the bed he lay in, nearly drifting back into sweet, safe slumber.
That is, until another voice broke through, clear as a bell, unrecognized, yet eerily familiar. “You're awake.”
“Marlene?” Marc forced himself into alertness at the sound of her, trying to pull himself upright with a start, only to find his arm encased in a cast, most of his bared skin wrapped and bandaged, and the pull of a needle buried into his arm sending a sharp pain through him, followed by the dulled and muted ache his whole body was suffering under the blessing that was a steady dose of morphine. But none of that mattered as he stared at the blonde woman in a white coat, not sure when she had started working as a medical practitioner...or even if this was real in the first place. “What...where am I?”
The doctor raised her eyebrow as she pulled his charts off the end of the bed and busied herself with them. “One of those faces, I suppose,” she said with a smirk and a silent huff of a laugh. The bony bird-faced god of the Moon was standing behind her in the corner of the small, mostly empty room, arms crossed, watching him as if merely a statue, with empty, judging eyes. “But, no, not Marlene, sorry. My name is Doctor Morrison and I'll be taking care of you, Mr...” she checked the clipboard in her hands again, “...Lockley, correct?”
The man in gauze stared at her blankly. “Spector.”
“Spector?” she repeated, taken slightly aback. “Your driver's license says your name is Jacob Lockley. At least, the one that you had on you when you were brought into the ER.”
“No.” Marc snapped, all too quickly, furrowing his brow to better focus, shaking off the cobwebs still clinging to the inside of his brain. “I mean, yes, that's right...more or less.”
[What is wrong with you?] Khonshu snapped from the corner, his voice booming and yet no part of his suited figure gave even the slightest twitch of movement. [You had the perfect cover and you tossed it aside!]
“It was a mistake...its just...she looks just like...”
The Moon god scoffed. [Even your weak mind is not so feeble to believe that any luscious female with golden locks is your former lover. Focus. You can't stay here. They'll force you to stay here. Move, Marc. Quickly.]
“Alright, alright I'm leaving, back the hell off!” Marc shouted, his teeth gnashing, only to find Doctor Morrison, staring at him with both brows raised in alarm and confusion, clearly realizing there was more disturbance here than initially noted in her paperwork.
“I'm afraid you can't leave yet, Mr. Lockley. Not for at least another seventy-two hours.”
[See? I told you. They won't let you leave.]
He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that hissing any sort of swear or snap at the skull-headed figure would only spell greater doom for him, opting instead to ignore him and focus on Morrison. “What? Seventy-two—why?”
“It's standard protocol,” she replied, clicking her pen a few times, a more serious expression painting across her soft features as she jotted down a few notes to his file. “Seventy-two hour safety watch, and then up to fourteen days in-patient therapy.” Dr. Morrison took in a deeper breath through her nose and finally approached Marc's bedside, taking a seat in the chair beside him. Khonshu faded into the shadows of the wall and then reappeared at the opposite side of the bed, ever present and right over his shoulder like a mist. Marc kept his eyes down at his knees under the crisp white sheets, not acknowledging either of them. “Now, Jacob, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I need you to answer honestly. Can you tell me what happened last night? Any sort of stressor or difficulties you might have been going through?”
“I'm...I'm not sure what you mean.”
“Jacob. Can you tell me why you jumped?”
***
“So, who are we talking to today?”
Marc rolled his eyes and bit his tongue at the sugary sweet and rather blasé attitude towards his split mind, especially at how condescending it always came across. Or rather, came across to Khonshu, who made sure to loudly remind him at any given moment that they were treating him as a child and would never let him leave, that he had to get out now and there was something very wrong happening outside these walls. He had tried escaping the hospital a few times, just to get the Moon god to shut the hell up about it, but this only made the situation worse. As apparently someone who tried to jump off a building to his death, which he could not for the life of him even remember doing, trying to break through bulletproof glass with his bare fist until it was bloody didn't exactly make him look like he was on the road to recovery.
Between this, a mental shift here or there to one of his other facets to try their luck on escape, plus several heated arguments with Khonshu to just leave him the hell alone and let him figure this out without divine meddling, Marc Spector's mental state was deemed too fragile and too great of a harm to himself and others to allow him access to the greater common area among other patients in the ward.
“Does it matter?” he answered the orderly, practically spitting out the answer.
“Of course. I want to be sure I'm addressing you properly. Would be rude otherwise.”
After a long moment of staring out the unbreakable window towards the gardens set up pleasantly outside, Marc sighed, rolling out his strained shoulder that was bearing the brunt of his broken arm's weight. “Marc. The only one of us that probably belongs in here.”
[You say such things, and yet you know they are not true. Their lies are poisoning you, my Aspect. Despite the weakness of your mind and will, you mustn't fall for their tricks...you must escape this place!]
Spector didn't answer, only narrowing his worn, brown eyes over the orderly's shoulder at Khonshu to get his point across.
“Still hearing voices, Marc?”
Again, he didn't answer.
“You know, I happened to have studied schizophrenia rather extensively, and there's an effective medication for those like you that have your symptoms,” he pulled a bottle from his scrubs pocket and turned it back and forth in his hands, causing the pills inside to rattle and shake. “I think it would be best for you if you gave it a shot.”
[It's a trick. Don't take them.]
“I'm not schizophrenic,” Marc replied flatly, his glare turning upon the man in front of him.
“According to most case studies, you are a textbook example. Believe me, I've seen a number of cases, much like yours, and I know what I'm looking at. Auditory hallucinations, delusions, paranoia, it's all right there, black and white. You should be taking these regardless. It will help you center and focus, keep you balanced.”
[He's trying to poison your mind, Marc. Don't fall for his lies!]
The bottle was practically forced into his hands, and Spector shoved it back, as if it were the poison Khonshu warned of. “I don't want it. I'm not taking this.”
The orderly grunted with a displeased look, but quickly tried to make himself seem pleasant again. “Look, you don't have to take it. But I'll have to note that you refused medication...which could prolong your stay here. You don't want that now, do you? At the rate you've been going, Marc, the behavior you've exhibited, the lack of improvement...it's very likely you'll have to remain here long-term. If you refuse medication, that is.”
Marc's body stiffened, his blood turning to ice. He looked over at the bird-faced deity, then back to the orderly, mind wavering and face paling.
[Don't. You. Dare.]
“I can leave if I take this?”
[Marc, don't fall for the tricks of Set! There must be another way out of this place!]
“It will look much better on your report that you cooperated and started proactively handling your illness rather than suffering through it. It's for your health. Your well-being.”
“And the voices...I won't hear them anymore?”
“The hallucinations should subside, yes.”
[You take that poison, you will no longer have access to my power! Is that what you want? Are you giving up so soon, you feeble little ingrate? Since when does the divine Fist of Khonshu quit?]
“You wanted me to leave this damn place as fast as possible, and now that I have a means to, you tell me not to! Piss off and let me do this my way for once!”
The orderly leaned back in his chair, eyes wide at the sudden outburst. Marc glowered at him and snatched the pill bottle, teeth gritted and bared as he tried to pry the safety cap off the top. The other man instead put his hand over Marc's, taking the bottle back. He carefully shook out two capsules and placed them into the patient's hand. “This is all you'll need for now. I'll be sure to note it in your file.”