Mr. Moonday, Part 1

The following excerpt was taken from the Daily Herald.

HEROES FAIL TO CONTAIN FIERY BLAZE IN QUEENS!

The fire had consumed most of the building by the time the last of its residents, thirty-three-year-old Camille Khan, a registered nurse at Mt. Sinai Medical, was rescued from the rooftop of the City Garden Apartments in Astoria, Queens late last night. Authorities have yet to determine the cause of the blaze, but insider reports from within the New York City Police Department are pointing to foul play.

Mrs. Khan, who’d luckily suffered only minor wounds from her ordeal, claimed an unknown hero had saved her life, even healed her injuries which she says were originally so severe she was afraid she’d never be able to walk again.

“My leg hurt so bad I nearly passed out, but this guy lays his hands on me and the pain just goes away,” Mrs. Khan said. “Whoever he is, I want him to know that he’s my hero…”

No sign of this mysterious healer could be found, however, as all the registered heroes on the scene with the exception of Crow-Man, who left immediately after rescuing Mrs. Khan’s two children from the building’s rooftop, were present to answer the questions of the media.

“Nope, I didn’t go past the lobby,” answered Miracle Girl, the beta-level healer on the scene last night. “Whoever saved that woman, it wasn’t anyone I know…”

Miracle Girl, along with the other heroes on the scene during this disaster, has come under fire from critics who claimed that they didn’t do enough to assist the first responders in quelling the blaze.

Read More about the growing backlash faced by US heroes failing to meet the public’s expectations in 20xx on page seven.

“Why the hell do they exist if they’re just going to stand there and watch our livelihood go up in flames?” complained Mr. Sun Park, a resident of City Garden Apartments.

“We saved their lives… So, what, do they also expect us to kill ourselves rescuing their crap?” Miracle Girl replied to the complaint. “It’s not our fault there was more than one fire last night and all the firefighters and water-power heroes were elsewhere!”

Councilman Matt Stevens, a vocal critic of hero society, issued a statement earlier today that condemned the heroes’ lack of initiative during last night’s fire. Included in his remarks were his thoughts on the upcoming bill for stricter regulations on hero registration in New York City.

“Just because they’ve got power doesn’t mean they get to use it without proper training, which is the kind of thing we should certify them for before they get their hero license,” Councilman Stevens stated. “It’s why I’m proposing stricter oversight on the city’s heroes… Let’s show the rest of the country that New Yorkers don’t tolerate showboats and power abusers.”

Read more about the councilman’s statement on Page 5. The Wardens opposition to these more restrictive regulations on Page 6.

Tragedy strikes last night’s crisis as sixty-seven-year-old Lucille Peters, known throughout the country as the celebrated seer, Madam Fate, lost her life in the fire that swept City Garden Apartments. Hers is the only life claimed by this tragedy. The coroner’s office has issued a statement regarding the cause of her death. Read about it on Page 10.

Read more about the life and career of Madam Fate and her hero team, the Fated Sisters, on Page 11.

***

Yes, Sam had survived last night’s fire. By a stroke of luck, Officer Nolan had driven his squad car right underneath Sam and Mrs. Khan just in time to catch their fall. Although the SUV’s roof was no safety net, it had at least saved them from a fifteen-foot drop that might have been disastrous for the heavily injured hero.

The day after, as Sam stared up at the storefront before him—blue wooden doors between two white columns surrounded on either side by twenty-foot glass walls that showed off a spacious interior filled with mannequins dressed in today’s chic hero fashion—he wondered again if this was the right thing to spend his time on immediately after last night’s harrowing rescue mission.

What’re you spacing out for, kid? Chiron’s disembodied voice drifted into Sam’s ears. Those doors won’t open themselves you know.

Sam still wasn’t used to hearing Chiron’s raspy voice, which he compared to the braying of an irritated horse that was refusing to listen to its rider’s commands.

“Um, shouldn’t we be looking for more ways to level up faster?” Sam asked as he squinted up at the early morning sun that bathed him in its warm rays, which was a rare occurrence for fall. “Yesterday’s mission raised me to level ten, but I’m still a zeta and I need to get much stronger if I’m going to heal Thunder within the next two months…”

Remember lesson number six, pace yourself, Chiron reminded him. Besides, this little side-trip is something you desperately need or did you forget how last night ended with you going home nearly naked?

There was no way for Sam to forget that embarrassing moment because the master insisted on reminding him every few hours.

It had been right after Officer Nolan helped him carry Mrs. Khan down the roof of the squad car and into the back seat where she could finally feel safe. Sam remembered how she’d clutched his hand and pulled him in for a hug.

“Th-thank you,” she’d whispered into his ears.

Afterward, Officer Nolan had offered Sam his jacket because his hoodie had mostly burned away. What little was left of it clung to Sam in tatters, revealing too much sun-kissed skin that hadn’t been fully healed from its burns.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any spare pants to offer Sam whose right pant leg had been burned up his thigh to where his boxers were peeking out. Sam’s feet were bare too because his running shoes did not survive the mad dash down the fire escape.

“I could give you a ride,” Officer Nolan had suggested.

“No, thanks… just… make sure… she gets… help,” Sam had managed to say between gulps of air. The smoke hadn’t fallen to the ground yet, but his fatigue was at peak levels. “I’ll be… fine…”

“But the press will want to talk—”

Officer Nolan shook his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he’d finished. “A hero needs to look cool during his big debut.”

“Y-yeah,” Sam had chuckled softly. “Let’s not do this tonight…”

After Officer Nolan had driven away in his rig with Mrs. Khan, Sam gazed up at the sky and noticed how bright the stars were despite the roaring fire blocking out all other lights.

“Looks like the gods are happy with tonight’s adventure,” he’d said.

Then, as if in answer to his comment, a new notification had appeared before him.

[You have leveled up!]

Sam had taken Officer Nolan’s words on presentation to heart, which is why he’d asked Chiron to introduce him to an affordable suit designer the very next day. It wasn’t just about looking cool, though. Sam needed a suit that would help lighten the load on his Regeneration, meaning anything short of plate armor was an option.

Last night had been an eye-opener for Sam. He discovered he relied too much on his self-healing power which he also learned had its limits. The healing process had taken all night because Sam had accumulated way too many wounds, even more than his battle against the alpha-level Terror.

He just didn’t expect Chiron to take him out shopping right away, especially not at 525 Broadway near the heart of SoHo, one of the city’s most expensive shopping districts.

“This place is so many levels above my budget,” Sam sighed.

The signboard above the storefront read, Mr. Moonday’s Magical Armaments, serving heroes since the Greco-Persian wars of 499 B.C.

Don’t worry about it, kid… Hearing the master’s hoarse chuckle was also an unfamiliar experience for Sam. Moonday’s an old drinking buddy of mine… he’ll give you a good discount so long as you don’t annoy him.

Sam’s next sigh seemed even heavier. “It better be a great discount…”

He strolled over to the shop and pushed open its front doors.

“I don’t think I can afford this place,” Sam repeated his objection.

There was the familiar sound of a bell chiming as Sam crossed the shop’s threshold. The scent of lavender hung in the air. It was a scent he was very familiar with as most shops smelled of lavender or frankincense, aromas known to repel horrors and negative thoughts.

Mannequins in form-fitting clothes designed to look like a popular hero’s suit—yep, hero fashion was in nowadays—spread out across a spacious hall with marble flooring and a high ceiling whose spotlights bathed everything in a cool white glow.

It was the sort of place someone like Marie would be more inclined to shop in. In fact, the few shoppers inside the store—all of them looking fashionably dressed in their knee-length capes and tight, colorful pants—looked over at Sam in the same way one would look at a cockroach that had just appeared on top of the dining table.

Possibly, they thought little of the red hoodie and blue jeans ensemble he was sporting, which even Sam would admit was way too casual for such a fashionable establishment.

Even the sales clerk nearest to the front doors—a thin, pumpkin-haired woman in a smart-looking pantsuit died in the gold and white colors of Thunder’s brand—was giving Sam the stink eye.

“The thrift shops are on Prince Street,” she said in a haughty tone that made Sam want to back up the way he’d come from.

“I, um,” Sam cleared his throat. He wasn’t good at confronting people like this sales clerk. They reminded him too much of Marie’s highbrow friends. “I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Moonday.”

“Yeah, sure,” the salesclerk raised her eyebrow at Sam, “and I’m the queen of—”

“—Mandy, what did I say about being snarky to customers?” asked a low-pitched voice that was like a dose of cool moonlight shining right into Sam’s ears.

“I shouldn’t do it because they’ll stop coming back,” the store clerk responded lazily like she’d said this line daily.

She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at the tall, brown-skinned man in the crisp silver suit who’d just arrived within Sam’s field of view.

“Some people should stop coming back, Mr. Moonday,” she said, nodding toward Sam. “Says he’s got an appointment.”

A silver-haired man with wrinkles in his eyes and dark freckles around his Nubian nose gave Sam a grandfatherly smile that Sam couldn't help but think he'd seen before. In fact, Sam had the strange inkling that they'd met already. He just wasn't sure when.