Nothing Has Ever Quite Captured How I Feel About Matt Murdock Than Adam Levine's DMs

Nothing has ever quite captured how I feel about Matt Murdock than Adam Levine's DMs

SOBBIN

little matt and big matt

So, I write fanfiction. My wattpad is @/apocalypsebyryan and here is a sneak peak of my second Moon Knight original stories prologue. Do not read if you don’t want spoilers.

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TW: trauma, violence, abuse

Characters in prologue: Melissa Osborn-Grant, Doctor Emmett Harrow, Marc Specter, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Amun Ra, Khonshu

Not proof read/edited :)

———

Blood trailed down Marc's arms as he stood in the cold shower. Using one hand to rub the blood off his arms that was built up after two days. And the other to scrub the grime build up on his face from two weeks.

It's been three years since he's had the drive to take care of himself, to actually live and breathe like a person. He let his addiction's overcome him. The need for another splatter of blood, the need for another drink of whiskey, the need to just forget everything. But Jake and Khonshu make his life hard, and he can't get a second to breathe without someone saying he needs to stop.

"Another one." Marc spoke to Jake, who was in the mirror in the shower he had set up. "Man, you dumbass. You keep gettin yourself cut up and Melissa won't even recognize you when she wakes up."

Marc stops washing the blood off, the water dripping down his face and down his chest. His breathing became ridged. "... Stop talking about her. I know you killed her but stop sayin' her name."

"She's not dead, stop being an angsty teenager." Jake spat, "I mean, hell, if she was would we be standing here? We would've ended up back in the desert begging your partner Bushman to slide another bullet into our—"

He flips the mirror down, stepping out of the shower and drying off wrapping the toilet around his waist as he uses his hand to wipe the fogged mirror in front of him. He stared at his face, the poorly stitched cut across his eyebrow, the large scar on his chest from being slashed open in Canada. It was hardly healing right, the stitches weren't dissolved yet. He looked like he had been attacked by a hound, of a group of bears. The amount of scars on him was disgusting, Jake was right.

"... we need Steven." Jake whispered to him through the mirror.

"... yeah." Marc grumbled, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on, throwing the towel on the bathroom floor and snagging a half drank bottle of whiskey from under the sink. "But because of what happened he ain't coming out anymore." Marc grumbled, taking a large gulp of whiskey.

"... We're loosing it, Marc." Jake says, appearing in front of him as he tried to leave the bathroom, "I know. I see a handsome man standing in front of me constantly now adays, hell, I even see my old friend Frenchie sometimes." Marc laughed.

"We need help." Jake grumbled, "I usually do the murdering, but... something about you is different. You want to kill, you want to drink, sometimes I know you smoke and cut yourself. Fuck, man, we're sounding like—"

Marc cut him off, shoving past him and sitting on his bed in his New York apartment. "You stop bringing up shit, Jake. Your an ass."

"Then maybe stop being a depressed teenager and get your head out of your ass and start moving on!" Jake yelled, "Hell, I moved on awhile ago! I killed the bitch and I moved on!"

"You don't fucking call her that!" Marc yelled, standing and throwing the bottle on the bed, storming towards Jake. "You killed her because you wanted her to die! You never loved her like I did! Like Steven did!— just shut the FUCK UP!"

A loud knock on the door startled Marc, he turns slowly walking towards the front door. He opens it a little bit, only his eye visible.

"Sorry, man. Can you keep it down? Our daughter is trying to sleep." The neighbor chuckled, "Who are you talking to anyway?"

Marc paused, shaking his head and turning to look at Jake. Who wasn't there. "... No one. I'll keep quiet." Marc nods sluggishly, closing the door and locking it. He turns. Slowly limping to the bed and collapsing on it. The bottle falling to the floor, yet it doesn't break.

"Says here." Marc whispered to Jake, pointing to the coordinates on his phone. His hood up. "Daniel Caldera. Construction worker. What did he do?" Jake whispered.

"Enough." Khonshu spoke, standing on the other side of the tracks. "Murdered a wife and her child at his construction site, wasn't paying attention, heard the metal slip from his machine. It fell from two hundred feet onto the family, he anticipate it would drop eventually."

"It was an accident." Jake spoke. Turning to Khonshu, "Listen, bird, we kill people who deserve to be—"

"Guys..." Marc whispered, nodding his head to the victim who stood just 8 feet away from Marc. The man was hugging who Marc presumed to be his wife, kissing his newborn baby. They were talking, the wife dressed up, the baby cooing at him for more attention. Marc felt a sense of humanity in him, like he couldn't do it. This was something Steven wanted with Melissa, a family. But he couldn't, not anymore.

The bus waits at the stop, the man waving goodbye to his family and entering it. Marc wearily followed, a nagging voice telling him to stop. He doesn't, he enters the bus, sitting next to the man.

"You can't do it." Jake grunted, standing next to the man in the walkway. Marc looked up, staring at Jake and shaking his head that he could. His focus was on the man's every move.  This man killed a family, so his family will loose him for it.

Following the man to his dig site, he nonchalantly walked behind him. Only about 20-30 feet away to where the man wasn't suspicious. But Marc was second guessing himself. How is he to kill a man who's hardly done wrong? This isn't like Khonshu to do this.

"Don't second guess me, Marc."

"Bullshit." Jake spat, "Your just getting us ready to take down Ra when he comes back. You and your god damn shitty daddy issues." Jake rolled his eyes, walking next to Marc.

"Pay attention, this man killed a family willfully. Don't hesitate."

Once at the dig site, Marc reached in his pocket to pull out his knife. But he couldn't. He feels a sense of understanding with the stranger, he is getting money for his wife and child. Marc would have done the same for his if he had one. He lowers the blade, till everything goes black.

"What the hell..." Marc hissed in pain, looking at his hands, regaining his stability and taking in his surroundings. His hands were rubbed raw from holding a heavy cinderblock, and just as anticipated. There was the husband, his head crushed under the cinderblock. His fingers twitching, he wasn't alive, just muscle spasms.

"You couldn't do it." Jake slaps his hands together, "So I did it."

"Jake..." Marc says breathless, "This man was innocent."

"Not so innocent anymore, is he?" Jake spat, "Don't get soft on me. You aren't a husband, nor are you a dad. You never will be. Don't act like you understand him."

"I do." Marc glared, "I was a husband, I wanted a family. Now look. That could've been us, we would've been this man and now he won't be going home to his—"

"Hello!? Who is there!"

A voice called from beyond the trees. Marc cussed, sprinting into the field to get away and hiding. "You— will never understand." He pants, "Never understand..." he repeated.

#HE’S BACK!!!

…

i have zero dignity when it comes to this man.

[struggling] I smell their sweat in the room below me.

[movie hacker voice] i'm in.