A/N: So I decided to combine Marvel's Moon Knight character with DC Comic's Kingdom Come setting. Hope you enjoy!
I remember the first Justice League was formed, back when I was truly alive and living my own life. Before I became apart of this… mess. I remember the League's golden glory days, back when they were all still young. But I also remember the crushing blow and its downfall afterwards. Superman fled like a coward from both Magog and reality, his unwavering nature seemingly unable to adjust to the times. Then the others followed suit, as I expected. Aquaman retreated to his oceanic world, the Green Lantern to space, and so on. Khonshu laughed at them, demeaning them for showing cowardice instead of a firm hand of justice. Yet my face remained as cold and hard as stone, set with a frown. I didn't laugh; I couldn't laugh.
Truthfully, I am jealous, but only slightly. They are able to run away, no matter how cowardly, from the dark, macabre, bloody side of having such power. But, I cannot. Even after three deaths, I haven't escaped since I am Khonshu's avatar. The justice I give is brutal and bloody, dark and macabre. Such is the price I pay.
When the League left, their descendents rose up with chaos in their wake. They disgusted both me and Khonshu. These… wannabes… fought just to fight. They did not seek justice but to play with their powers. They sought out others from other cities and even countries, battling them to see who had the better power.
However, they were lucky not to seek me out in my city. Though my name isn't very well known outside the underground world, my reputation is well known and passed on in fear. If challenged, I would not – could not – do any less than mortally wound my opponent. More often than not, they were found dead, or close to it, with my mark carved upon them.
During the League's absence, I observed the former Batman and his robotic army with a scoff. Though somewhat ruthless, they do not kill. Ever. I was disappointed in the old man and withdrew to my domain. In a burst of anger, a gang of thieves paid the price for crossing my path during such a mood. Not one survived.
Then, the League was reformed with a new directive. When the meta-humans are either recruited or rounded up, I am, once more, either ignored or avoided. Most likely the former. I was the black sheep amongst the heroes with my preference to kill as opposed to merely injure or leave for the police. They turned their backs on the "Macabre Moony", as they call me when they think I cannot hear. Or they didn't consider me dangerous enough to concern themselves with, despite my record. My perpetual frown deepened.
"Not acceptable," Khonshu's voice whispered in my ear, and I agreed.
I was the one to be feared, not the blue and red colored pansy with a cape, who couldn't even make a necessary kill. So I plotted and planned. When Gulag's revolt began, I grimaced as I tried to smile. To the shadows I go and from which I fight, for no side but my own. Prisoner and Leaguer both fall by my hand. I feel no remorse for these supposed kindred of mine. They, too, are marked with my symbol and I recede into my city. My challenge to them was issued but I doubt it will be acted upon.
The bloody, brutal, and macabre Moon Knight is not one with whom you mess with. That is, of course, unless you have a death wish.