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How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maximillian?

Summary:

Khonshu demands Marc to kill the False Fist who sullies his name.

Unfortunately Jake and Steven do not agree.

Spoilers Blood Hunt, Vengeance of the Moon Knight (2024) and Moon Knight (2021).

Notes:

I desperately wanted to tag for Shroud but shockingly he's not an existing tag at this point. And... he's Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Story. It certainly revolves around his exploits, but I am here acting as his defense lawyer in the case of Khonshu vs. Shroud.

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Marc entered the floor with more confidence than he truly felt, but ever since his reunion with Khonshu, he knew it was inevitable. It needed to be done. In his own life there were consequences to his actions. He endured them, would likely endure them for the rest of his life.

No one was invulnerable to consequences.

Brisk steps carried him towards Steven’s office, opening the door without knocking, conversation stopping between Steven and Jake. They looked calm enough for the early morning, coffee serving its purpose. Steven lowered his mug to the table while Jake continued to sip his coffee, but not without taking his gaze off of Marc.

“Help yourself to coffee, we all need it at this early hour,” Steven offered, motioning to neatly kept corner of the room with the coffee maker, miniature fridge under the counter to keep milk and cream ready for any partner or client who entered his domain.

Marc shook his head, not even sitting in the second chair opposite from Steven when he gestured to it. “We need to deal with the Shroud problem.”

Jake set his cup on the desk. “Well.” Jake announced loudly, levering himself up out of his chair, hands on the armrests. “I’ll be on my way then.”

“You heard Khonshu.” Marc jerked his head to Jake, crossing his arm over his chest as he glared him down. “Shroud needs to be-“’

“I heard Khonshu,” Jake insisted, eyes narrowed back at Marc. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to kill Max.” He made another move to leave, but didn’t get further than turning in the direction of the door, unable to lift a foot, even though his body tried to push himself forward, torso only moving as he grimaced.

“Let’s sit down and talk about this,” Steven said, picking up his coffee for a longer drink, even though he looked discomfited. “We know how Khonshu feels about us not listening to him.”

Ignoring the coffee station, sitting down in the other chair available, Marc’s shoulders relaxed a touch. “Which is why we need to do this.”

“This will tarnish our reputation,” Steven reminded, finishing his coffee before setting it to the side on his desk.

“It won’t effect Mr. Knight,” Marc said, uncrossing his arms even though he shifted in his seat, crossing his leg to rest his ankle on his knee. “Moon Knight has a job to protect the city and neighbourhood. Shroud killed. We need to take care of him.”

Jake snorted from where he stood, struggling to twist his body to look to Marc. “Funny how you’re so happy to take advantage of your different personalities while ignoring others.”

Marc didn’t glance back, though with a flick of his finger, elbow resting on the armrest, Jake stumbled free from the locked position he had him in. “It doesn’t help that you’re not in agreement with the plan,” Marc pointed out.

“I can’t say I am either.” Reaching for the opposite corner from where he placed his cup, Steven picked up a folder, opening it and laying it before him. “Taking care of Maximillian isn’t as straightforward as you would like it to be.”

“Why else do you think I’ve asked for all of us to meet?” Marc didn’t watch Jake take his seat again, keeping his gaze on Steven. “We need to decide on the best course of action. He can’t stick around here parading as me. Khonshu wants him dead, and… he has caused a lot of damage. He killed in my name, not to mention released a horde of vampires to take over the world.”

“It wasn’t just him.” Jake chose not to look at Marc, keeping his eyes on his drink as he took up his coffee again.

“The vampire situation was a world-wide problem. Multiple dark force users were targeted to bring about what became a thwarted invasion. And that’s not why you called us here,” Steven said, tapping his papers for emphasis. “Before. Maximillian. Shroud. He killed when he shouldn’t have.”

“Precisely my point! I established the Midnight Mission to bring a community together, to make a safe neighbourhood for people to live in.” The snort that sounded from his right had Marc’s cheek twitching. “And to teach through example, I have chosen not to kill. And I have been successful.” A second snort and the twitch tugged the corner of his mouth into a sharp frown. “Does the so-called pacifist have something to say?”

“You’ve forgotten quickly about Waxman,” Jake pointed out, setting his empty cup on the desk. “You essentially left him for dead. I imagine he is dead.”

Marc barely held back his own disgruntled noise, though his was a muffled growl. “He murdered several women. Are you saying he didn’t deserve it?”

“Are you saying the death he suffered from your hands was deserved?” Jake asked, settling back in his seat, glancing to Marc with a slow twist of his head. “And no, he got exactly what he deserved. But I will raise one other point. Max wasn’t the only one to act in the interest of Khonshu’s protection to the neighbourhood. So did Soldier. He took up the guise of Mr. Knight. Shouldn’t that spark Khonshu’s and your rage too?”

“Soldier didn’t give a bad name to our title, Shroud did,” Marc countered, shaking his finger to an unaffected Jake.

“I agree about Soldier, but I have to disagree about Shroud.” Steven waited until Marc was looking at him, which only lasted a half beat, Marc ready to throw his temper at him next. “I have several papers that are worth looking at.” Steven shuffled his papers, looking for the one he needed first. “It’s rather fortunate that my office is in the heart of the business district. When your accounts were drained by Zodiac, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to access my research team. And they certainly found some curious details.”

“That my soul is forever indebted to that forsaken Vulture?” Marc asked dryly, lowering his hand to his leg.

“That’s just common knowledge. But because all of your accounts were emptied, automatic payments didn’t go through when the month’s cycle was over. And because you were dead, I wasn’t able to contact my overseas partners for a helping loan,” Steven explained, keeping his attention on Marc, making sure that he was listening. “And yet the utilities, as normally paid by our money to supply the residential buildings under our protection, have been running without interruption for the month that we were dead.”

“I would say that’s very curious,” Jake said, leaning forward with a grin, gesturing for the paper. “It’s not like our dear Bird could’ve funded for that.”

Steven handed the page to Jake but picked up a separate page with his other hand. “Nor a pigeon either. Bank statements don’t provide any extensive information. A generous deposit had been made to cover said utility payments, but the bank didn’t have a source affiliated with it, only listing it as anonymous. I had to get someone with more know how than me to track down who made the payment, and I finally got the information in today.”

“Let me guess,” Jake said, offering the paper over to Marc after he read it. “From the well protected and hidden estate controlling the assets of the Coleridge name.”

Marc swatted the paper away, ignored the paper that Steven extended to him. “So he has money, obviously he wouldn’t miss it or he wouldn’t have paid for utilities. I don’t care. He is still a criminal. He killed a man when I made a very deliberate point of no longer killing. And you both know Waxman deserved what he got! I will not let a killer get away with tarnishing my reputation!”

“And the second issue.” The next selection of papers Steven held out to him were stapled together. Steven waited for Marc to take them before he continued talking. “These are records from the major newspapers in the tri-state area. I searched as many relevant subjects as I could find. Carjackings. Assaults and murders. Break and entries. Robberies. All the crimes that would warrant an investigation from us. I used several databases, not just the search engines as provided by the websites on the newspapers I searched. Check all the papers if you must, but I left the assaults and murders results within the first four pages. Anything of note to you?”

Marc rolled his eyes but started flipping through the papers. His brows pinched together as he flipped through the remaining papers. “They’re empty. I mean, you did the searches, clearly, but they all state zero entries found.”

Steven cocked an eyebrow as he clasped his hands together, elbows on his desk. “I can’t account for all vampire-committed crimes, that would make up too much paperwork to read through. But it does sound like the criminal network laid low while Shroud was taking care of business in our absence.”

“I think it’s worth mentioning that I caught up with Crawley a couple nights ago,” Jake added, shrugging a shoulder as he leaned back in his chair. “Was almost disappointed that no vampires came after him, saying they must’ve not wanted his anemic blood. Aside from the vampires nothing of note had been heard in his usual circles. And if the newspapers and Crawley are in agreement…”

His one hand clenching the papers, Marc dragged his free hand down his face. “He killed in my name.” It was the same argument, muffled but adamant.

“Have you not killed as an example before?” Jake asked, tone and expression not accusing, only watching patiently.

“It turned out to be an effective example for him,” Steven pointed out, closing his folder. “And the one he killed, it was a group of men. He left the other two alone, he only killed in self-defence. We can’t say the same when it came to Waxman.”

Clamping his hand to his lap, fisting the papers with both hands, Marc shook his head slowly. “I can’t not do anything.”

“Hombre, that doesn’t mean you have to kill him,” Jake pointed out, tipping his head emphatically.

Marc laughed around a sucked in breath, incredulous, even as he looked to Steven, looking at him with the same firm look that Jake was giving him. “You know he’s going to be pissed,” Marc reminded them both.

“Its not the first time,” Steven added.

And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Khonshu was consistent like that.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Marc twisted his head as though he could avoid their pressing looks.

“We deserve to keep our gloves clean,” Jake said deceptively softly.

“We can choose not to kill.”

Steven’s voice faded away as Marc opened his eyes to the scrunched-up paper he held in his lap, sitting on the couch in his personal quarters. Only the lamp to the left provided the light he needed to keep sorting through all the facts, laying out Shroud’s – Max’s doings since his arrival in the city.

He could do this. He could handle this.