Lunar Mist Meets SALC!!

“Did you hear about Rob? You should’ve seen his face when it happened …”

“… turns out most of the work had been done for me, and all I had to do was copy it into …”

“… and last time I was here, the puddings were lovely, so I just thought, why not …”

Peter adjusted his shirt collar. He was feeling restless. He enjoyed these nights out, on the whole, but it was tough not knowing what could be going on elsewhere.

“More wine, Pete?” asked Angharad.

“Please,” he said, handing over his glass.

“See him over there? With the questionable fashion sense?” Dave was saying, indicating a white-haired man in a red suit. “That’s the big guy, the Chief Executive.”

“HE’s Mr Emery?” asked Sarah.

“Voice down!” shushed Dave, panicking. “Yes, that’s Mr Emery. No idea what he does, mind – seems to delegate most of the work to the Director of Finance and Corporate Services.”

“Listen to you with your jargon,” said Angharad.

“He’s a bit weird, actually. Half his immediate staff have matching initials!”

“What, like Peter Parker?”

“Exactly like.”

Peter shuffled awkwardly in his seat.

“How many people are on his immediate staff, then?” asked Sarah.

“Four,” said Dave.

The girls sighed at this anti-climax.

“Still,” said Dave. “Two out of four – that’s just weird.”

A voice from the front called for silence.

“Ladies and gents.” A thin man in his fifties, sporting a pin-stripe suit and a huge moustache. “I’m very sorry, but you’re all being held hostage.”

Everyone laughed.

“I’m afraid,” continued the man, “That I’m completely serious.”

As if on cue, fifteen to twenty men in armour marched from behind him, surrounding the whole room.

“The restaurant staff have been taken care of, and the windows blacked out,” said the man. “Your company means a lot to this county, and I’m afraid we’ll be using its personnel as leverage in our terms.”

He appeared quite apologetic.

“We’re SALC, by the way. My name is unimportant – you can call me the Director.”

Peter groaned. An enigmatic name – a wannabe super-villain.

“By the way, if you have any feedback for us, you can talk to Peter Moran – he’s our Head of Democratic Services.”

One of the armoured men gave a wave.

“I’ll be leaving you for the moment. If there’s anything you need, feel free to ask any of our SALC agents.”

And with that, he walked into the kitchen area.

Peter’s colleagues tried to remain upbeat.

“So,” said Dave. “That makes two super-villain encounters in a month for you, Sarah.”

“Not funny,” she said.

“Think you can take this one?” asked Angharad, forcing a smile. “You’ll warrant a costume if you do.”

And throughout this, Peter was looking for a way out. Unlike Sarah, he DID have a costume. Most of it was on already, under his neat trousers and new shirt. The rest was in his briefcase. But where could he change? And how could he explain his absence when the superhero known as Lunar Mist turned up?

Suddenly, one of the armoured men dropped to the floor.

Pandemonium among the other guards. Who’d managed to take one of their own down without their notice? A yelp from the corner, and another guard had been tripped, knocking his head against a table.

The guards were all alert now, model professionals, looking around.

As was Peter. He prided himself on his observation skills, and he hadn’t seen a thing.

“Aargh! My arm!”

Everyone looked in the direction of another guard. His right arm had been twisted behind his back. By a girl in an orange outfit.

“Oh, do shut up,” she said. She looked around her. “Hello, there. I’m Sunset. I’ve come to readdress the balance.”

Using her guard as a human shield, she backed towards the kitchen.

“Alright, come out, mate,” she called.

The Director marched out, furious. He was holding a mobile phone.

“I am on the phone to the Mayor, and … What?”

“This isn’t how policy change works, I’m afraid,” said Sunset. “Hostage situations – and at a formal meal as well! – well, they’re frowned upon. Leave now. Or I’ll beat you.”

The Director snorted.

“I could have you shot right now.”

“If I’m not out in ten minutes, Lunar Mist comes in,” she said confidently.

The Director’s eyes bulged wide with fear. In spite of himself, Peter felt a degree of pride.

“Right,” he said. “Guards – out. We’ll rethink our campaign.”

The guards marched towards the door. He followed suit, but not before delivering one last threat.

“You mark my words, Sunset,” he spat the name. “The smoking ban WILL be lifted!”

-10001-

“I heard about your raid,” said Lunar Mist, on top of their familiar meeting spot of the Pavilion Theatre.

“I’m very pleased!” said Sunset. “I’ve never tackled a proper team before.”

“I also heard about … the name-dropping thing,” said Lunar Mist, hoping he wasn’t giving too much away.

“Your name commands a lot of respect,” said Sunset. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” said Lunar Mist. “Whatever gets the criminals sorted, you know?”

“Well, it was a bit of a mess,” admitted Sunset. “I sent them out too early – the police hadn’t turned up yet. Still, tomorrow’s another day.”

They paused for a moment.

“I’d have thought …” started Lunar Mist. “You know … I’m the one who’s learning on the job. Making mistakes, getting it wrong. And you’re the professional who always gets the job done.”

Sunset stood up, ready to leave.

“They don’t know what I can do,” she said. “The general public don’t know what my powers actually are, and that suits me. But your super-jump – that’s a power people can get their teeth into. They know you can really DO something. As far as they know, I’m probably just some parkour fangirl with a red belt in some martial art or other.”

“And you’re not?” asked Lunar Mist cheekily.

“Oh, shush,” said Sunset, and in that moment, she was gone.

Lunar Mist smiled underneath his helmet. He chose a building – a particularly tall one, for the challenge – and jumped.