Marc Spector

"Listen. Where you're going? Tell your friends. Tell everyone you meet. You tell them all. When you see me coming? RUN."

[blackbirdstar]

BLACK PANTHER /T'CHALLA ICONS

🖤fav/rt if you are going to use/save🖤

[khonshuknight]

[doreenthesquirrl-grl-blog]

“Doreen Green, not a millionaire, Doreen Green.” 

[khonshuknight]

“There’s got to be some way I can make my introduction a little less cringe-worthy, right?” 

Steven grins in response, hoping his initial words hadn’t made things too awkward. 

[agent-thirteen]

@khonshuknight // continued from here

“You’re completely fine,” Sharon hitches a smile onto her face - no point being rude, after all, the guy made an honest mistake and after the night all of Manhattan had - 

Still, she reaches out to relieve him of the mistaken cup of coffee with very little hesitance, inspecting the writing on the cup for a second before making good use of the straw she’d already unwrapped in anticipation.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure millionaires probably have bigger problems, right?”

[khonshuknight]

Note to self: “Millionaire” Steven Grant is /out./ 

Once the coffee is relieved from his hand, Steven opts to place both hands in the pockets of his suit pants. Of course he’s dressed in an expensive /looking/ three piece suit. The secret being, Jake Lockley purchased the suit off discount from a guy who knew a guy. It /did/ help to look important though. 

“Actually, no.” As he speaks, the man shrugs his shoulders. “Born with a silver spoon in my mouth. The word problem is pretty foreign for me.” 

The irony of his statement is what makes Steven chuckle. It couldn’t have been more opposite than it already was. Marc Spector’s home was broken, poor, dysfunctional. Steven Grant wouldn’t be giving a seminar on a problem free lifestyle anytime soon. 

[khonshuknight]

[ladyxlight-blog]

khonshuknight:

“Tandy Bowen. Just…Tandy Bowen.”

[khonshuknight]

Maybe the millionaire approach was a little too much?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tandy Bowen.” Steven offers a hand towards the woman before him. “Sorry to stop you like this but I have to be cliche and ask; do you come here often? It’s actually one of my favorite places in New York to grab a bite to eat.” 

Hopefully he has a bit of charm about him. The freshly shaven features, playboy smile. Luckily last night’s festivities hadn’t escalated enough to leave any scars or bruises on his face.   

[clairerockwell-blog]

khonshuknight:

“If it gets to that point, I will do my part to help in any way that I can. But I don’t know I want to think about it right now. I just…. ugh, when did the world get so gross?” Claire sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just sad.”

[khonshuknight]

Steven can think of a few answers to that question. But, most involve an entirely depressing response that won’t fit well with the current mood, so, he chooses to avoid those for the time being. Instead, the millionaire attempts to lighten the mood, offering an understanding sigh before speaking. 

“It ain’t so bad...You can still come to a bar and get a cold beer for cheap, in New York. Nothing tends to be cheap here. Cept’ some of the merchandise in Chinatown that is.” 

[khonshuknight]

[agent-thirteen]

khonshuknight:

Sharon Carter.  Exhausted, Sharon Carter.  And I’m pretty sure that’s my coffee in your hand, Steven-Grant-Millionaire-Steven Grant. 

 …Steven, Sharon, tomato, whatever, I’m pretty sure the barista’s not caffeinated either but I’m really going to need you to just hand it over - 

[khonshuknight]

“Oh!” 

He can’t help but offer a flustered grin in response, despite his blunder. “In my defense, I order the same coffee each day and the events of last night had me a bit disoriented.” 

 What an embarrassment. Shifting from one personality to the next, and wasting your time on women and coffee. You should be spilling blood in my NAME!!! 

God he hates when that happens...

Once Steven finally manages to offer the coffee to her, his embarrassment subsides. “At any rate, my apologies Miss Sharon exhausted Carter. I hope this doesn’t ruin my otherwise flawless first impression.” 

[khonshuknight]

He takes the card between his index and middle fingers, glancing over it once before flipping it over a few times. “I suppose so.” Steven’s response is hesitant, but there’s no real reason to debate that point. If the collateral damage of the Goblin’s attack was huge enough to warrant relief organizations, then the Avengers would be a fitting response. 

“Still, all of this seems awfully stressful and costly too. I’m sure /someone/ upstairs isn’t too happy about this entire situation.” 

[clairerockwell-blog]

khonshuknight:

“Oh, I know the reason. I’ve been up coordinating with my teams on the West Coast and here in New York for recovery efforts against the damages that have been caused by this Iron Man-Goblin feud. Because it’s my job.”

[khonshuknight]

“Oh?” 

There’s genuine interests as he speaks, seeing as he hasn’t really been paying attention to such a huge spectacle. His attention usually stayed on the streets alone. Moon Knight preferred to leave the big shit to the other guys. But, he’d make an effort to look into the confrontation later.

“Sounds like a full time job and one I wouldn’t necessarily be good at.” He grins. “It seems like those Gods and men cause more harm than good nowadays, huh?” 

[khonshuknight]

“Steven Grant. Millionaire, Steven Grant. And you are?” 

[khonshuknight]

[khonshuknight]

"Jake, Steven, Khonshu? Hell if I know."

[khonshuknight]

Aimless (Open)

[akaherosandwich]

khonshuknight:

“Rough day, trying to make tonight better,” she groaned, turning her head towards the stranger’s voice.  He looked like a typical cabbie, someone she maybe could have gotten in an argument with once or twice.  If he was hoping to get anything out of this…

“I could’a paid for it,” she muttered.  “I don’t….ahh.”  Jessica winced at the loud pulse of the terrible music playing over the speakers.  She was exhausted and fed up with this fucking disaster of a day-

Why was it that people hired her to do her job, a job which she did well, and then they’d get mad at her as soon as she got results they didn’t want to see?  Would they just prefer to throw money at her in hopes that she didn’t figure out their husbands and wives were screwing around on them with other people?  Or that, yes, this person did run away because maybe they hate you?  People sucked, Jessica knew that much, but maybe people were deluding themselves into thinking there was a need for an investigator whose very job was to show them how much other people really sucked.  Or maybe she was the bad person for making this her career?

Jessica quickly took another drink once the bartender finally relented and gave her another cup of whiskey.  “Gross, I got too close to having a moment of self-realization,” she hissed as she tried to lift her head off the bar.  “Stopped that one.”

She looked over at the man who had ordered the drink for her.  “An’ what do you want, exactly?”

[khonshuknight]

Damn, could this music get any worse? 

Jake wonders to himself as he notices the woman’s reaction to it. Yeah, she may have had one too many and her head is probably suffering from a brutal pounding against her cranium, but, shit. Apparently some of the patrons seem to enjoy it though. Though late in the night, the bar is still somewhat crowded, and at this point, several inebriated men and women have taken to the open area for an embarrassing show of dance skills. One man even attempts to drunkenly recite the lyrics to the song, (but the words just come out as high pitched mumbles instead.)  If he could put an end to both of their suffering, he would, but he has a feeling her problem is a little deeper than this music. 

“Those are the worst, I suppose.” Jake responds, voice hardly resonating over the bar’s musical tones. “Don’t worry, I ain’t lookin’ for sex. Just a guy in a bar, trying to get a feel for the Kitchen. I come ‘ere to this shithole pretty often but,-”

Pausing his sentence momentarily, Jake takes a look around the worn down establishment, before refocusing his gaze on the brunette. 

“-I ain’t a native. Heard the Kitchen was gettin’ pretty bad anyway.” 

And there it is, Jake’s subtle way of prying for information. Of course he knows about the scum filled degenerate streets of Hell’s Kitchen. He’s paved the concrete with plenty of blood himself. But he isn’t the only costumed psycho running around the neighborhood. There are others. And Jake needs to know who he’s dealing with. 

[khonshuknight]

Yvonne Strahovski as Marlene Alraune.

[khonshuknight]

What is your greatest flaw?

“Probably my inability to trust. Last time I trusted someone, I wound up dead in the middle of Cairo. I think one day someone will come along and need for me to trust em’, and I’ll look at em’ and say a loud fuck you.” 

[khonshuknight]

[khonshuknight]

“The Ghost of Hell’s Kitchen. There’s a certain ring to it, right?”

[khonshuknight]

Aimless (Open)

[akaherosandwich]

khonshuknight:

Jessica was practically hanging over the bar- future tense: will be hungover.  She hadn’t been this bad in a while, but with work being the way it was lately, the woman was taking the night to herself.  So what if she had ‘other things’ to be doing.  Screw ‘em.

She winced when there was a loud greeting directed at the newest patron in the establishment.  Jessica grumbled and then turned her attention back to her drink, her nose nearly in the glass as she bowed over it.  “I’ll take my usual Jack,” she half-mimicked, half-requested of the bartender who seemed increasingly fed-up with her.  He took the near empty glass of Jack Daniels whiskey from her and she reached out for it sloppily.

“C’mon, just one more,” she slurred.  “M’good for it, I really am.”

But the bartender seemed unconvinced.  Jess cursed under her breath, her forehead making contact with the damp, sticky bar surface.  With a groan, she shut her eyes, trying to ignore the sounds around her that were pressing harshly inwards on her eardrums.  “A’least lemme stay here for a bit.  Promise I won’t puke this time.”

[khonshuknight]

He’d actually noticed her as soon as he stepped through the door. In actuality, it was hard not to. Brunette, strolled across the bar, almost unresponsive. Typical Hell’s Kitchen night. And he would’ve written her off as a typical drunken woman, drowning her sorrows in a bottle, if it hadn’t been for his own past. Filled with alcohol, women and more killing than he’d like to admit, Jake figures passing judgement on the stranger wouldn’t be his best move. Instead, as the woman repeats his gruffly uttered phrase to an unimpressed Jack, Jake can’t help but flash a quick grin towards the bartender.

Jack talked shit all the time. It was good seeing his balls get busted every once in awhile.

“Rough night?”

Turning to look a few seats down from himself, Jake directs his fairly obvious question towards the woman. She doesn’t really look to be in the talking mood, but hopefully a gesture of “I know what the fuck you’re going through” would help out.

“Aye, Jack. Give her anotha one will ya? Put in on my tab.” This time, Jake doesn’t face himself behind the counter. His speech is loud enough for the man to hear, even over the 80′s rock music that plays over the half busted speakers of the joint. Not to mention, his tab is an extensive one. Half funded by Jake’s rich buddy who rarely gets named. Steven Grant in actuality. Yet another alter ego.