It had not been a happy childhood for Peter. He could hardly remember his mother; she'd passed away when he was six years old. His father – already a heavy drinker – sank deeper and deeper into the bottle in his grief. Peter learned to take care of himself early on – a necessity.
His home life became desperately lonely. His father expected him to complete all household chores, and barely spoke a word unless he was barking orders. Embarassed of his home life, Peter never brought friends to the house, and rarely spent time anywhere else, apart from school.
As he got older, Peter developed a greater understanding of the world. At the age of eleven, he told a close friend of his home life, confiding his secrets. The friend had told him that there were people who could take his father away. He'd meant it as a suggestion – a way for Peter to get out of the situation. Instead, Peter became fiercely protective of his father, and never again admitted that there was anything wrong.
At the age of fourteen, his father took him to a pub for the first time. He pulled some strings with the landlord, and Peter was allowed into the back room, where they kept the darts board and pool table. Something to keep him quiet while his father had a few pints.
Even on that first night, Peter had to drag his father home. And, that night, his father hit him for the first time.
A few years later, Peter developed a surprising aptitude for sports – particularly the long jump. He joined the school's athletics team, and for the first time, he had a coping mechanism.
Years later, he studied psychology, and learned of three major coping strategies, or ego defences as they were known. Firstly, regression – channeling an earlier stage of development. Peter had never dared to throw a tantrum. Secondly, rationalisation, and Peter acknowledged that he'd probably been doing this for years. Reasoning that his situation wasn't too bad. Now, he took to the third ego defence – passive aggression. All his frustration, all his retained energy, he used to practice. Later, he learned that many people at this time developed unusual skills overnight, but few of them nursed these skills, and trained further.
Later still, he realised that these examples of ego defences were greatly simplified, and that he'd also made use of compensation, denial, intellectualisation, dissociation and even introjection. It was at this stage that Peter decided that psychology was too frightening for his tastes.
Then, at the age of seventeen, as Peter was getting changed, his coach saw the bruises. There had been a conversation, and Peter hadn't liked it. The coach had done his best, tried reasoning and suggesting things, but Peter didn't want to do a thing.
And so, things continued as they were. He preferred to keep quiet, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
He chose not to attend university, instead taking a small office job in the neighbourhood. He stopped attending his father's weekly visits to the pub, but didn't move out of the house.
One night, at the age of nineteen, Peter returned home from work to find that his father had died of liver failure. Shortly afterwards, Peter became the superhero known as Lunar Mist.
Even then, he never spoke about his father.
-10001-
The new alien suddenly ran for the empty space in the middle of the group. Garnoff, the alien interpretor, ran for him as the alien guards shouted and readied their weapons. The girl accompanying the alien seemed doubtful, and ran after him. A struggle followed, and the girl, Garnoff and the alien prince all clambered into the ship.
The ship suddenly took off, and the guards ran away, presumably headed for their own ships.
This left Zoe with her sister, Ffion, and the rest of the kids – Liz, Dylan and Karen.
"What do we do?" asked Karen softly.
"I think our involvement with the aliens is over," predicted Liz. "I mean, they're in the ships now. We must be safe."
Karen was nodding furiously. "Yes. You're right."
"We'll need to talk to someone," said Zoe decisively. "Between you, you've probably witnessed a tonne of important stuff. We'll have to talk to police officers or something." She looked at their faces, and smiled. "You all alright?"
There were sighs of relief all round.
"Tell you what," said Zoe. "Let's find someone now, soon as we can, and then we'll all go for ice cream.
-10001-
Lunar Mist jumped from building to building, his mobile phone in his hand. He'd received a text from a friend, and had to hurry.
He jumped onto a factory wall, and suddenly saw the problem – an enormous reptilian creature, near the University. Or at least, what was left of it.
And underneath was a figure in the remains of an orange costume, being struck by the creature.
Lunar Mist jumped at the creature.
"Leave her alone!" he shouted.
He landed on the creture, and spotted that it had been partially tied up. He grabbed the loose end of the rope, and jumped as far as he could. The momentum pulled at the creature's neck, and Lunar Mist jumped to the ground. With the beast disorientated, he was able to jump underneath it, trying to weave the rope between its legs.
Suddenly, the rope snapped at the top, and Lunar Mist was left holding the other end as the creature dashed forwards. Lunar Mist jumped towards it, hoping to think of some way of stopping the monster now that it was free from the-
And then there was no monster at all.
No sign of it remained. Lunar Mist looked in all directions, but only the damage remained as evidence that it had ever been there at all. Even Sunset had vanished.
-10001-
Peter entered the ice cream parlour, and heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, Pete!"
It was Zoe, who worked in his office, with a group of kids. He waved, and Zoe called him over.
"Meeting someone?" she asked.
"No," said Peter. "Just needed to cool down."
"Come sit with us, then!" she said. Under her breath, she added, "Otherwise I'm the uncool grown-up babysitting the cool kids."
Peter sat down.
"I was at the school," said Zoe. "With the aliens! We got to see them close up and everything!"
"Wow," said Peter.
"And then they left, and we got to see the prince's spaceship. Did you know about the prince? He's a fugitive here on Earth. It was incredible."
"Sounds amazing."
"Anyway, after they left, we were just there, hanging around," said Zoe. "Felt a bit pointless, really, like we were all geared up for this ... and then they vanished."
"Know the feeling," said Peter, smiling. He saw the kids talking excitedly. "So, were they all involved in this alien thing?"
"They were," said Zoe. "Had to get their parents in to talk to the police and everything, but they agreed to let them come for an ice cream. I convinced them that, whatever happens, these kids made history, so we should make it the best day ever."
-10001-
Afterwards, Karen and Liz returned home, but Dylan and Peter walked back to Zoe's house with her and Ffion.
"I need to phone my parents," said Dylan. "Beg a lift."
Ffion led him into the living room, while Peter and Zoe went to the kitchen.
"Cup of tea?" asked Zoe, putting the kettle on.
"Please," smiled Peter.
"What a bonkers day," said Zoe. "Wow, I'm buzzing with energy."
"So I see," said Peter.
"Maybe caffeine's not the wisest idea," she said thoughtfully. "But I'll think about that once I've had my tea."
"I enjoyed today," said Peter clumsily.
"So did I," said Zoe with a grin. "We should get ice cream more often."
"Maybe after work sometimes." Peter was avoiding eye contact.
"Yeah," said Zoe. "Or on our lunch breaks or something."
"What do you like for lunch?" asked Peter, trying to sound breezy.
"Oh, I'll eat anything," said Zoe. "Y'know. Except fast food."
"Me too!"
"We should make that a thing," said Zoe. "Try different places every day and stuff."
"That'd be cool."
Peter smiled to himself. The kettle began to whistle.
"So," said Peter as Zoe made the tea. "Is it just you and Ffion living here?"
"That's right," said Zoe. "My dad got a job out of town, so he and my mum moved there. Ffion spends weekends with them, but lives here with me during the week, so she wouldn't have to move schools."
"That's nice," said Peter. "The variety, I mean."
"How about you?" asked Zoe. "Living with parents? On your own?"
"On my own, yes," said Peter. "My parents died."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Zoe. "Do you want to not talk about it?"
"Maybe I would," said Peter. "When we have lunch or something." He smiled. "Milk and half a sugar, please."
-10001-
What am I doing? I'm putting the phone down first. It's weird, holding a phone when there's nobody on the other end. Good God, I've been holding it too long, and now it's weird.
Right, it's down. I should be talking. Because now we're both here, not talking. That's not normal.
Look at her. She giggled! Is that a good giggle? Probably. There was no snort. No snort's a good thing. Say something.
"Wow. Aliens, eh?"
Deep, Dylan. We're onto a winner here.
"I know!"
Well. Good thing she's easily pleased. Actually, she's probably too nice to be honest with you. Come on, say something else, you've gone quiet again.
"Never thought I'd see real aliens."
As opposed to all those fake aliens? You retard.
"I loved their suits. They were really exciting!"
Quickly, answer, don't stop – get a conversation going.
"I liked their guns."
What the crap? Think things through! You just told the girl of your dreams that you liked alien implements of death.
"They scared me."
See? You've scared her. Say something gentle.
"I liked the translator one. I liked his accent."
That's ... something, certainly. Better than saying you like guns.
"It's so strange, isn't it? Never thought we'd get to hear aliens speaking English."
"Or Dutch!"
Was that meant to be funny? Did you seriously think- She laughed! She laughed at your joke! Come on, now. Smile. Not that much! There we go. Don't show too much gum.
"I enjoyed today."
Well, now! That's not too bad. Or is it? Is that a cliché? That must have come from a film. Or maybe it comes from ALL the films!
"Me too."
She's still smiling. Do something romantic. NO! STOP! Do NOT touch her arm! Not under any circumstances. She'll stare at it until you move it and then kick you out of her house, and then when your mum comes, you'll have to explain to her why you're sitting on the pavement. Be sweet. Be ... self-mocking. Is that a word? Good God, don't start thinking about vocabulary.
"Ffion."
"Yes?"
"You don't want to go out with me, do you?"
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
"Um!"
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!
"Sorry, don't answer that."
You idiot you idiot you idiot you idiot you idiot you idiot you idiot you idiot ...
"Was that a joke?"
Why is her voice so quiet? Is she threatening you? No, surely not, that'd be weird. She's giving you a way out, though – you can tell her it's a joke.
"Erm ..."
No wait! Don't tell her it's a joke, she'll think you were making fun of her.
"Dylan, I'd love to go out with you."
What.
"I really like you, actually."
What!
"I mean, I think you're really cool, and I sort-of, wait, sorry, ignore me. I'll shut up. Sorry. Yes. Please. Yes, I want to go out with you. If you still want to, what with me babbling and all. I'll stop."
WHAT!
Showing posts with label Lunar Mist and Sunset. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lunar Mist and Sunset. Show all posts
Monday, 16 July 2007
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Battles and Conversations
The creature was enormous. Sunset could feel her legs shaking.
Where on Earth had it come from? Or maybe it wasn’t from Earth at all, and had arrived with the aliens.
It was reptilian, but as large as an elephant.
This was going to take some doing.
-10001-
Greg rushed into the house, finding Jeremy in the living room.
“What is it?” he said. “I just got your text, or I’d have been here sooner.” He looked around. “Where’s Laoren?”
“She’s gone,” said Jeremy. “We’ve got a big problem on our hands.”
-10001-
The creature’s tail swung down, destroying a bench.
Sunset looked upwards.
“Headline news, I suppose.”
She looked around. No film crew, no journalists. They must all be preoccupied with the alien arrival. Nobody left to capture her epic battle with the Lizard of Doom.
“Alright,” she said. “It’s super-powers time!”
-10001-
“And she had this alien hidden in the house all along?” said Greg.
“For the last four days,” said Jeremy.
“And she didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t think she wanted to tell me either, but they had to because I was in the house so much.”
“Does Mel know?” Greg was pacing by now.
“No idea. I texted her too, but you know what she’s like.”
“Any idea where she went?”
Jeremy passed him the evening’s paper.
“The school, I’d imagine.”
“Good lord. Any news on what happened there?”
“No idea,” said Jeremy. “Sounds like the journalists were more focused on the spaceship and the chaos than a single alien with a human girl.”
“Some people really need to sort out their priorities.”
-10001-
Sunset reached for her phone. She unlocked it, and scrolled down to the Address Book icon.
The monster’s head swooped down, and she narrowly missed it. Another swoop, and the phone was knocked from her hands.
“You asked for it,” said Sunset. And as she spoke, her head began to fade away. Tiny particles floated from her. Her hands started to melt into particles as well. Eventually, she was a cloud, floating on the wind. She reformed on the creature’s head. She punched it firmly.
The creature roared, and swung her away. Seconds before she hit the ground, she crumbled again, and reformed, fully standing, on the ground.
Not waiting to catch her breath, she picked up the phone again. She found the entry she wanted – “Lunar Mist” – and dialled.
-10001-
“Right, get Mel back here,” said Greg.
“I told you, she didn’t answer,” insisted Jeremy.
“Then we’ll go and get her,” said Greg. “What’s she got on today? Riding? Hockey?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Then find out! Who’s in her riding class?”
“I don’t know, do I?” Jeremy was becoming agitated. “I’m going to try phoning Laoren. At the very least, we should find out if she’s alright.”
“Alright, you do that.”
-10001-
“Pick up, pick up,” said Sunset, tapping her foot impatiently. An enormous tail swung through the air, knocking the wind from her stomach, and tearing her suit along her chest. “Handy that I wear clothes underneath,” she said, and turned to the creature. “But still, budget or not, I LIKE this costume.”
She disintegrated again, and reformed on some scaffolding above. She grabbed a rope, crumbled, and appeared on the creature’s lower back.
Ignoring the roars, she set about attaching the rope to one of it’s finger-sized scales. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it’d do.
She threw the rope to the creature’s right, and crumbled. She reformed underneath the monster, and grabbed the rope before she hit the ground. She ran back, throwing the rope up around the other side. She scattered once more, gathering on the creature’s back just in time to grab the rope again.
She recovered the end of the rope she’d left on the scale, and tied it to the other side. She then set about wrapping the rope around its scaly neck. Having tied the other end of the rope to the knot, she realised she needed more rope. She crumbled again, reforming on the scaffolding.
She needed a moment to breathe.
-10001-
“No answer,” said Jeremy.
“Think she’s in trouble?” asked Greg. “Or just avoiding you?”
“Could be either, really.” He rubbed his eyes. He was tiring quickly. “We may have to contact her parents.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“She’s taken off with an alien, to a potentially dangerous situation that contains, lest we forget, a million journalists,” said Jeremy. “They’ll find out sooner or later, and if they find out sooner, they can help us.”
“You’re right,” said Greg. “Tell you what, let me e-mail my lecturers to let them know I won’t be in tomorrow …”
“Greg,” said Jeremy quietly. “There won’t BE any lectures tomorrow. Didn’t you hear what happened to the University?”
-10001-
The creature had not taken kindly to being tied up. By the time Sunset had found another length of rope, it had started running through the streets. The rope kept its head facing upwards, and it was running into more obstacles than usual.
“Oh, God,” said Sunset, seeing where it was headed. It was running down a road that led directly towards the local University.
Sunset scattered immediately, and raced towards the creature, trying to overtake it.
She reformed in front of it, and tried grabbing one of its legs. But Sunset’s strength was not super-human, and the creature, feeling her underfoot, stamped down hard. It stopped, turned around – its tail swinging through the University walls, smashing windows and knocking down bricks – and started scratching away at Sunset, trying to get a grip on her.
Sunset tried to crumble, but she was too tired. She could feel her hand melting away, but the creature’s claws tore at her suit, and then her face and legs.
She could vaguely hear a voice, so, so distant.
“Leave her alone!”
She saw a streak of green above her, and finally, she was able to crumble.
She allowed herself to slowly drift home.
-10001-
“Couldn’t find any contact details …” Jeremy trailed off. “Greg?”
“I’m upstairs,” replied Greg. “We’ve got another issue.”
Jeremy ran upstairs, following Greg’s voice. He was standing in the door to Mel’s room.
“What is it?” asked Jeremy, but then he saw the carnage on the bed.
“That solves that mystery, then,” said Greg, barely able to speak. “Melinda is Sunset.”
Where on Earth had it come from? Or maybe it wasn’t from Earth at all, and had arrived with the aliens.
It was reptilian, but as large as an elephant.
This was going to take some doing.
-10001-
Greg rushed into the house, finding Jeremy in the living room.
“What is it?” he said. “I just got your text, or I’d have been here sooner.” He looked around. “Where’s Laoren?”
“She’s gone,” said Jeremy. “We’ve got a big problem on our hands.”
-10001-
The creature’s tail swung down, destroying a bench.
Sunset looked upwards.
“Headline news, I suppose.”
She looked around. No film crew, no journalists. They must all be preoccupied with the alien arrival. Nobody left to capture her epic battle with the Lizard of Doom.
“Alright,” she said. “It’s super-powers time!”
-10001-
“And she had this alien hidden in the house all along?” said Greg.
“For the last four days,” said Jeremy.
“And she didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t think she wanted to tell me either, but they had to because I was in the house so much.”
“Does Mel know?” Greg was pacing by now.
“No idea. I texted her too, but you know what she’s like.”
“Any idea where she went?”
Jeremy passed him the evening’s paper.
“The school, I’d imagine.”
“Good lord. Any news on what happened there?”
“No idea,” said Jeremy. “Sounds like the journalists were more focused on the spaceship and the chaos than a single alien with a human girl.”
“Some people really need to sort out their priorities.”
-10001-
Sunset reached for her phone. She unlocked it, and scrolled down to the Address Book icon.
The monster’s head swooped down, and she narrowly missed it. Another swoop, and the phone was knocked from her hands.
“You asked for it,” said Sunset. And as she spoke, her head began to fade away. Tiny particles floated from her. Her hands started to melt into particles as well. Eventually, she was a cloud, floating on the wind. She reformed on the creature’s head. She punched it firmly.
The creature roared, and swung her away. Seconds before she hit the ground, she crumbled again, and reformed, fully standing, on the ground.
Not waiting to catch her breath, she picked up the phone again. She found the entry she wanted – “Lunar Mist” – and dialled.
-10001-
“Right, get Mel back here,” said Greg.
“I told you, she didn’t answer,” insisted Jeremy.
“Then we’ll go and get her,” said Greg. “What’s she got on today? Riding? Hockey?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Then find out! Who’s in her riding class?”
“I don’t know, do I?” Jeremy was becoming agitated. “I’m going to try phoning Laoren. At the very least, we should find out if she’s alright.”
“Alright, you do that.”
-10001-
“Pick up, pick up,” said Sunset, tapping her foot impatiently. An enormous tail swung through the air, knocking the wind from her stomach, and tearing her suit along her chest. “Handy that I wear clothes underneath,” she said, and turned to the creature. “But still, budget or not, I LIKE this costume.”
She disintegrated again, and reformed on some scaffolding above. She grabbed a rope, crumbled, and appeared on the creature’s lower back.
Ignoring the roars, she set about attaching the rope to one of it’s finger-sized scales. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it’d do.
She threw the rope to the creature’s right, and crumbled. She reformed underneath the monster, and grabbed the rope before she hit the ground. She ran back, throwing the rope up around the other side. She scattered once more, gathering on the creature’s back just in time to grab the rope again.
She recovered the end of the rope she’d left on the scale, and tied it to the other side. She then set about wrapping the rope around its scaly neck. Having tied the other end of the rope to the knot, she realised she needed more rope. She crumbled again, reforming on the scaffolding.
She needed a moment to breathe.
-10001-
“No answer,” said Jeremy.
“Think she’s in trouble?” asked Greg. “Or just avoiding you?”
“Could be either, really.” He rubbed his eyes. He was tiring quickly. “We may have to contact her parents.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“She’s taken off with an alien, to a potentially dangerous situation that contains, lest we forget, a million journalists,” said Jeremy. “They’ll find out sooner or later, and if they find out sooner, they can help us.”
“You’re right,” said Greg. “Tell you what, let me e-mail my lecturers to let them know I won’t be in tomorrow …”
“Greg,” said Jeremy quietly. “There won’t BE any lectures tomorrow. Didn’t you hear what happened to the University?”
-10001-
The creature had not taken kindly to being tied up. By the time Sunset had found another length of rope, it had started running through the streets. The rope kept its head facing upwards, and it was running into more obstacles than usual.
“Oh, God,” said Sunset, seeing where it was headed. It was running down a road that led directly towards the local University.
Sunset scattered immediately, and raced towards the creature, trying to overtake it.
She reformed in front of it, and tried grabbing one of its legs. But Sunset’s strength was not super-human, and the creature, feeling her underfoot, stamped down hard. It stopped, turned around – its tail swinging through the University walls, smashing windows and knocking down bricks – and started scratching away at Sunset, trying to get a grip on her.
Sunset tried to crumble, but she was too tired. She could feel her hand melting away, but the creature’s claws tore at her suit, and then her face and legs.
She could vaguely hear a voice, so, so distant.
“Leave her alone!”
She saw a streak of green above her, and finally, she was able to crumble.
She allowed herself to slowly drift home.
-10001-
“Couldn’t find any contact details …” Jeremy trailed off. “Greg?”
“I’m upstairs,” replied Greg. “We’ve got another issue.”
Jeremy ran upstairs, following Greg’s voice. He was standing in the door to Mel’s room.
“What is it?” asked Jeremy, but then he saw the carnage on the bed.
“That solves that mystery, then,” said Greg, barely able to speak. “Melinda is Sunset.”
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
And As They Talk, They Become The Closest Of Friends
Sunset dropped onto the roof, and caused Lunar Mist to jump – higher than most, thanks to his superhuman abilities.
“We haven’t met in broad daylight before,” said Sunset cheerfully.
“I don’t do much daytime hero stuff,” said Lunar Mist. “Only in extreme cases.”
“Really?” said Sunset. “I love daytime patrols.”
“Do you ever get any sleep?”
“I find I don’t need much,” said Sunset. Before Lunar Mist could say a thing, she turned suddenly. “But aliens! How cool is that? We’ve got to go and see them.”
“No!” said Lunar Mist, and for once, Sunset was taken aback. “That’s the last thing we can do.”
“Why?” asked Sunset, confused.
“Aliens have landed,” he said. “Proper, real, genuine aliens. From space. This isn’t local news, this is worldwide. We can’t go down there, all powers ablazing, or even non-ablazing. We’re blunt instruments – overblown vigilantes. If we start assuming authority over anything that’s a bit out there …”
“You’re right,” said Sunset thoughtfully.
“If there’s a war, we’ll fight,” said Lunar Mist. “But for the time being, we have to assume they’re diplomats.”
“So what do we do?”
Lunar Mist shrugged.
“I’ve got the day off work,” he said. “I’m going to hunt down opportunistic looters, taking advantage of the chaos.”
“Nice one,” said Sunset. “I think I’ll do the same.”
“Let me know how it goes,” said Lunar Mist.
“I’ll text you.” She laughed. “Bet it’s just you and me, though, wandering through empty streets. I can’t imagine anyone doing anything right now, apart from sitting in front of their TVs.”
-10001-
Meanwhile, in Brecon, Mr Spencer was running. He’d cut his speed down somewhat – a concession, since Geoff was running with him.
“I can … get back to … the car … if you like …” breathed Geoff.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mr Spencer. “I’ll run a bit extra later, that’s all.”
“How long are … you going to keep … this up?”
And for the first time since he’d started running, Mr Spencer gave an honest answer.
“A week.”
“Only a week?” asked Geoff, surprised.
“That’s all that’s left.”
“And then … you’re done?”
“And then I’m done.”
“What happens then?”
“The world will be worth living in again.”
-10001-
Two weeks later, Geoff received a phone call. It was Mr Spencer. They’d exchanged phone numbers back in Brecon, but Geoff hadn’t expected a call so soon.
“Where are you?” asked Mr Spencer.
“Searching Newport at the moment.”
“Fancy meeting up later?”
“Great!” said Geoff, surprised. “I’ll be here all day.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
And, four hours later, they were in a fast food restaurant. Mr Spencer still had his suit and briefcase.
Finally, Mr Spencer told Geoff the whole story, from beginning to end. The fact that he’d had to run to save his wife’s life, the device in the briefcase that tapped into his DNA, his wife’s insistence that he shouldn’t tell anyone why he was doing it until he’d finished – everything.
“So,” said Geoff. “Why not run around the local neighbourhood, and go home for tea and such?”
“To get my face in as many newspapers as possible,” said Mr Spencer. He smiled. “Of course not. But I needed to motivate myself. If I’d stayed at home, it would have been harder and harder every day to say goodbye and to run for twelve hours. I needed to get used to hardship. Not to mention that my wife did all she could to stop me as it was – I think I’d have given up fairly quickly if she’d done that every day for six years.”
“Still seems a bit daft to me.”
Mr Spencer chuckled. “Anyway, I’ve brought a gift for you,” he said. “It should help with your quest.”
“What is it?”
Mr Spencer opened the briefcase. Inside was a pair of thick sunglasses, which had a thin wire running into a device built into the case itself.
“Put these on,” he said, and Geoff obeyed.
“Oh, wow,” said Geoff. Suddenly, wherever he looked, people’s bodies were tinted red – and only their bodies.
“Thought you’d need to see the heads clearly,” said Mr Spencer. “Now, hold this.” He handed him a thin, wand-shaped device, with two buttons along the side. “Point it at me, and press the button.”
Geoff obeyed again, and immediately, Mr Spencer’s body was tinted green.
“Point it at people who aren’t your mystery girl,” said Mr Spencer. “It’ll save you having to check the same people multiple times. The second button resets people to red, by the way, in case you make a mistake.”
Geoff was stunned. He looked around the restaurant, clicking everyone in sight. They all turned green.
“How can it remember all these people?” he asked.
“Scans their DNA and converts it into digital information.”
“How does that work?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” admitted Mr Spencer. “But the device originally did so to my own DNA, so it was a simple matter to adapt the original device.”
“Hang on,” said Geoff. “If you could adapt this device, why not change it to accept any DNA at all?”
“Mainly because I couldn’t be sure it’d work,” he said. “But even if I could – can you think of anyone who runs for twelve hours a day?”
“You could get a bunch of mates to do it in shifts,” said Geoff. “Plenty of charitable people around. Honestly, you should use your head more.” He spotted a gang of children outside, and he eagerly clicked them all green. “Anyway, can this really store everyone in the world?”
“Sadly not,” said Mr Spencer. “It’s got an SD card of two gigabytes in it at the moment, and that’ll store half a million people. As soon as you’ve reached the limit, additional strangers won’t show up as red any more. The green ones will still be green, though, so it’ll still be useful.”
“That’s a shame,” said Geoff.
“But I’ve added an adapter that means you can have several SD cards in at the same time,” said Mr Spencer. “And I’m trying to develop cards with bigger capacities, so by the time you fill all the spaces, you’ll be ready for more.” He smiled. “You’ll have to buy additional cards yourself in the meantime, I’m afraid.”
“Does it need charging?” asked Geoff.
“It no longer requires you to run, if that’s what you mean,” said Mr Spencer. “And it doesn’t need to be inserted into your nervous system either. There’s a steel bracelet inside, and if you wear it, walking will charge the system. I’d recommend power walking, personally.”
Geoff sighed. “You’re such a sadist. Power walking to clock half a million people?” But he was grinning broadly.
To show his appreciation, Geoff paid for a slap-up meal, and the two men were finally able to relax – for both of them, it felt like the first time in years.
“So,” said Mr Spencer. “What about these aliens, eh?”
“We haven’t met in broad daylight before,” said Sunset cheerfully.
“I don’t do much daytime hero stuff,” said Lunar Mist. “Only in extreme cases.”
“Really?” said Sunset. “I love daytime patrols.”
“Do you ever get any sleep?”
“I find I don’t need much,” said Sunset. Before Lunar Mist could say a thing, she turned suddenly. “But aliens! How cool is that? We’ve got to go and see them.”
“No!” said Lunar Mist, and for once, Sunset was taken aback. “That’s the last thing we can do.”
“Why?” asked Sunset, confused.
“Aliens have landed,” he said. “Proper, real, genuine aliens. From space. This isn’t local news, this is worldwide. We can’t go down there, all powers ablazing, or even non-ablazing. We’re blunt instruments – overblown vigilantes. If we start assuming authority over anything that’s a bit out there …”
“You’re right,” said Sunset thoughtfully.
“If there’s a war, we’ll fight,” said Lunar Mist. “But for the time being, we have to assume they’re diplomats.”
“So what do we do?”
Lunar Mist shrugged.
“I’ve got the day off work,” he said. “I’m going to hunt down opportunistic looters, taking advantage of the chaos.”
“Nice one,” said Sunset. “I think I’ll do the same.”
“Let me know how it goes,” said Lunar Mist.
“I’ll text you.” She laughed. “Bet it’s just you and me, though, wandering through empty streets. I can’t imagine anyone doing anything right now, apart from sitting in front of their TVs.”
-10001-
Meanwhile, in Brecon, Mr Spencer was running. He’d cut his speed down somewhat – a concession, since Geoff was running with him.
“I can … get back to … the car … if you like …” breathed Geoff.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mr Spencer. “I’ll run a bit extra later, that’s all.”
“How long are … you going to keep … this up?”
And for the first time since he’d started running, Mr Spencer gave an honest answer.
“A week.”
“Only a week?” asked Geoff, surprised.
“That’s all that’s left.”
“And then … you’re done?”
“And then I’m done.”
“What happens then?”
“The world will be worth living in again.”
-10001-
Two weeks later, Geoff received a phone call. It was Mr Spencer. They’d exchanged phone numbers back in Brecon, but Geoff hadn’t expected a call so soon.
“Where are you?” asked Mr Spencer.
“Searching Newport at the moment.”
“Fancy meeting up later?”
“Great!” said Geoff, surprised. “I’ll be here all day.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
And, four hours later, they were in a fast food restaurant. Mr Spencer still had his suit and briefcase.
Finally, Mr Spencer told Geoff the whole story, from beginning to end. The fact that he’d had to run to save his wife’s life, the device in the briefcase that tapped into his DNA, his wife’s insistence that he shouldn’t tell anyone why he was doing it until he’d finished – everything.
“So,” said Geoff. “Why not run around the local neighbourhood, and go home for tea and such?”
“To get my face in as many newspapers as possible,” said Mr Spencer. He smiled. “Of course not. But I needed to motivate myself. If I’d stayed at home, it would have been harder and harder every day to say goodbye and to run for twelve hours. I needed to get used to hardship. Not to mention that my wife did all she could to stop me as it was – I think I’d have given up fairly quickly if she’d done that every day for six years.”
“Still seems a bit daft to me.”
Mr Spencer chuckled. “Anyway, I’ve brought a gift for you,” he said. “It should help with your quest.”
“What is it?”
Mr Spencer opened the briefcase. Inside was a pair of thick sunglasses, which had a thin wire running into a device built into the case itself.
“Put these on,” he said, and Geoff obeyed.
“Oh, wow,” said Geoff. Suddenly, wherever he looked, people’s bodies were tinted red – and only their bodies.
“Thought you’d need to see the heads clearly,” said Mr Spencer. “Now, hold this.” He handed him a thin, wand-shaped device, with two buttons along the side. “Point it at me, and press the button.”
Geoff obeyed again, and immediately, Mr Spencer’s body was tinted green.
“Point it at people who aren’t your mystery girl,” said Mr Spencer. “It’ll save you having to check the same people multiple times. The second button resets people to red, by the way, in case you make a mistake.”
Geoff was stunned. He looked around the restaurant, clicking everyone in sight. They all turned green.
“How can it remember all these people?” he asked.
“Scans their DNA and converts it into digital information.”
“How does that work?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” admitted Mr Spencer. “But the device originally did so to my own DNA, so it was a simple matter to adapt the original device.”
“Hang on,” said Geoff. “If you could adapt this device, why not change it to accept any DNA at all?”
“Mainly because I couldn’t be sure it’d work,” he said. “But even if I could – can you think of anyone who runs for twelve hours a day?”
“You could get a bunch of mates to do it in shifts,” said Geoff. “Plenty of charitable people around. Honestly, you should use your head more.” He spotted a gang of children outside, and he eagerly clicked them all green. “Anyway, can this really store everyone in the world?”
“Sadly not,” said Mr Spencer. “It’s got an SD card of two gigabytes in it at the moment, and that’ll store half a million people. As soon as you’ve reached the limit, additional strangers won’t show up as red any more. The green ones will still be green, though, so it’ll still be useful.”
“That’s a shame,” said Geoff.
“But I’ve added an adapter that means you can have several SD cards in at the same time,” said Mr Spencer. “And I’m trying to develop cards with bigger capacities, so by the time you fill all the spaces, you’ll be ready for more.” He smiled. “You’ll have to buy additional cards yourself in the meantime, I’m afraid.”
“Does it need charging?” asked Geoff.
“It no longer requires you to run, if that’s what you mean,” said Mr Spencer. “And it doesn’t need to be inserted into your nervous system either. There’s a steel bracelet inside, and if you wear it, walking will charge the system. I’d recommend power walking, personally.”
Geoff sighed. “You’re such a sadist. Power walking to clock half a million people?” But he was grinning broadly.
To show his appreciation, Geoff paid for a slap-up meal, and the two men were finally able to relax – for both of them, it felt like the first time in years.
“So,” said Mr Spencer. “What about these aliens, eh?”
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Peter's Week
Monday
“Congratulations, Peter – you’ve been promoted!”
Peter nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He’d only been working for the company for a couple of years – everyone else had been working there far longer.
“Th-thankyou,” he stammered. “But would this mean moving?”
“Not at all!” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “You’ll perform your new duties from your current office.”
“Excellent,” said Peter, relieved. “What’s my new position?”
“Senior Deputy Personnel Assistant Officer,” said the voice.
“And – sorry to ask this, but – the money …?”
“Same wage,” said the voice. “Added responsibilities are the only bonus.”
Peter frowned, trying to work out how more-work-for-the-same-money was a bonus.
“You know,” said the voice encouragingly. “CV fodder and all that. And there’s only one new responsibility, too.”
“Which is?”
“Conducting the interview for your current job’s replacement, of course!”
The phone was put down.
Some office research was all it took for Peter to realise that the company merely wanted a new employee without having to pay anyone extra.
-10001-
Tuesday
“So,” asked Peter. “Where did you work last?”
“A large cardboard box factory,” said Norman Pierce.
“Large enough for me to have heard of it?” wondered Peter aloud.
“No, you misunderstand,” said Norman. “It made large boxes. The factory itself was very small.”
“Right.”
“Only me, in fact.”
“Could I have a look at your references …?”
Norman Pierce handed over the file. Peter glanced at the pages inside.
“Well, Mr Pierce, it seems that this one’s from you,” he said. “And THIS one … is ALSO from you.”
“Like I said. Just me, on my own.”
“Who employed you?”
“I was self-employed.”
“Okay … Did you earn much money with this company?”
“None.”
“I see.”
“Do you want a cardboard box?”
-10001-
“What do you think you’d bring to this job?” asked Peter.
“Humour, mostly,” said the Great Bonzo. “And a little bit of magic.”
“I see.” Peter checked the file. “Reasons for leaving your last job?”
“Failed a police check,” said the Great Bonzo. “Wasn’t allowed to work with kids.”
“I fear to ask,” said Peter, “But have you got your police check with you?”
The Great Bonzo handed over the file.
“Pig rustling?!”
“Needed a pig for my act.”
“What act?”
“Sawing a pig in half.”
“Did it work?”
“It was partially successful.” The Great Bonzo paused. “Have you got any kids you need entertaining? They’d have to be over eighteen, mind.”
-10001-
“Why did you apply for the job?” asked Peter.
“I want a pony,” said Jenny Francis.
“Okay.”
“And a Barbie doll.”
“Right.” Peter checked her forms. “Reasons for leaving your last job?”
“THEY BROKE FRIENDS!” wailed Jenny.
“Pardon?”
“Even though we said the Make Friends Make Friends poem.”
“What?”
“But it’s alright. They’ll have caught the flu by now. They won’t be recovering.”
Peter thought it worth going back to the basics.
“Let’s start with something simpler,” he said. “Age?”
“Thirty-eight,” said Jenny. “And three-quarters.”
-10001-
“Reasons for leaving your last job?” asked Peter.
“Haven’t,” said Gregory Jones.
“You haven’t?”
“Nah, still working in Spar,” he said. “I’ll give it up when I get this job, though.” He paused. “Sorry – IF I get this job.” He winked at Peter.
“May I see your references?”
Greg handed over the file.
“Actually,” said Peter, “These seem quite professional. Mind if I contact these people?”
“Not at all.”
“So, Phil Hughes is your current boss …”
“That’s right.”
“And your character reference - Laoren … Zen-wee?”
“Zhenhui,” said Greg. “She’s my housemate.” He chortled. “And anything she tells you isn’t true! Except about me having twenty-eight pints in one night.” He winked again.
“We’ll get back to you,” said Peter.
-10001-
“Zoe Lucas,” read Peter. “Nice name.”
“I like it!” said Zoe Lucas. “Nice and unusual. You don’t get many Zoes. Apart from the obvious.”
“Pardon my ignorance,” said Peter. “Who’s the obvious?”
“Zoe Karbonopsina, fourth wife to Byzantine emperor Leo the Fourth,” she said.
“I see.”
“And the girl who sang Sunshine on a Rainy Day.”
“Of course.”
“She’s done a lot of damage to the brand.”
“Reasons for leaving your last job?” asked Peter.
“Unpredictable hours didn’t agree with me,” said Zoe. “Ironic, really.”
“Why is that ironic?”
“It isn’t, really. Just like to confirm whether potential colleagues know what the word means.”
“A rhetorical device based on an incongruity between what is said and what is understood,” said Peter.
Zoe grinned. “So far, on my list of worthwhile people, you’re winning.”
“I remain unbiased,” said Peter.
“Damn.” Zoe was still grinning.
-10001-
Wednesday
“Alright, Peter, what have you got for me?” asked Derek Davies, one of Mr Emery’s infamous matching-initialled executives.
“The last question on the form asked them to write a bit about themselves,” said Peter. “Thought you’d like to see them.”
Norman Pierce
“I was born in 1943. I have lived in Britain for most of my life, but I lived abroad between 1964 and 1970 and also between 1974 and 1979, as a protest to the Labour party being in government during those years. I considered moving again in 1997 but I had inexplicably run out of money. I would like this job to save up and move once again, as even though this new fellow could secure a Conservative government at last, he seems to be a woolly gaylord lefty to me.”
The Great Bonzo
“Pick a number! Any number! Now add 17! Now take away your original number! You’re thinking of 17! Just a bit of fun! Why did the chicken cross the road? Well, it was hardly going to get to the other side if it didn’t, was it? What’s worse than finding a maggot in your apple? A runny nose! Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree? No? That’s because they paint their toenails red.”
Jenny Francis
“I’m lovely and bubbly and lots of fun to have around and I work very hard but I get tired quickly but it doesn’t matter because I take regular naps and don’t worry because I’ll stay late and do more work and sometimes come in on the weekends if that’s allowed and I’ll even come in if I’ve got a headache or a bad tummy or something and work then even though mummy says I shouldn’t because I might give it to someone else but I think you can only pass on a tummy ache if you rub tummies with someone and I’d never do that because it’s disgusting.”
Gregory Jones
“I’m a fun loving twenty-something who's eagre to learn and always up for a laugh. I’m reliable and easy to get on with, and I work well in a team. I have three years’ experience working in Spar, and although that’s not relevant to this job, I feel that I’ve learned a lot of valuable skills, such as punctuality. I’m a good mathematician and I’m learning to play the trumpet.”
Zoe Lucas
“I have three years’ experience as a police officer. Learnt a lot, especially about paperwork. As much fun as the paperwork was, I found the whole criminal-catching thing a bit dull, so I thought I’d focus wholly on an office job. I like long walks on beaches. And by ‘long walks’, I mean that I require camping equipment. I’m a big fan of the works of Marquis de Condorcet, particularly his views on liberalism and equal rights and such. I’m never sure what to write in this bit.”
“I see,” said Derek Davies. “And what are your feelings thus far?”
“I think we ought to discount the Great Bonzo and Jenny Francis immediately,” said Peter. “And possibly consider arranging counselling for them.”
-10001-
Thursday
“It’s a simple exercise,” said Peter. “Designed to test your abilities to work as a team.”
Norman, Bonzo, Jenny, Greg and Zoe surveyed the assault course with trepidation.
“If you put on the padding …” started Peter.
“I can’t do it,” said Jenny. “I’ve got a note.” She put on a big show of patting all her pockets. “I’ve got it somewhere. It might be in my bag.” She left the room. After a few minutes, Peter realised she wasn’t coming back.
“This is how it works,” said Peter. “You take it in turn to complete the course. The three of you not running the course must encourage the one who is. Completing the course isn’t essential – I just want an idea of teamwork.”
-10001-
“Go, Norman!” called Zoe. “You can do it! Come on!”
“I’d prefer ‘Mr Pierce’,” said Norman stiffly. His foot was caught in a tire. “This is a silly exercise. Did that fellow say it was optional?”
“He did, yes,” said Greg slyly. “You might as well stop now.”
“You’re doing so well, though!” lied Zoe. “Try finishing this bit at least.”
“My dog has no nose …” said the Great Bonzo.
-10001-
“Go Bonzo! It’s your birthday!” sang Greg and Zoe in unison.
“I don’t like this,” said Bonzo in a small voice, walking over a narrow bench. “I feel like everyone’s watching me.”
“Think of it as a party trick!” said Zoe. “Like in your children’s parties.”
“Ah, well, yes,” said Bonzo. “Thing is, I never did any. Rehearsed them. Never got to try one.”
He fell from the bench. Greg laughed. Bonzo cried. Greg felt bad. Bonzo left. Everyone looked at Greg.
“Sorry.”
-10001-
Greg navigated the tyres easily, and managed to cross the bench with little effort, but he had trouble getting through the skipping rope web.
“Try getting your left hand-“ started Zoe.
“Don’t help me!” shouted Greg. “I can do this.”
He moved his leg, as though intentionally leaving his left hand where it was. He tripped, facing upside-down.
“Look at yourself, man,” said Norman. “You’re making a fool of yourself. Listen to the girl.”
Zoe bit her tounge.
“I can’t get my arm through …”
“Skip the web, then,” said Zoe. “You don’t have to do them all anyway.”
Greg frowned, and concentrated. He untangled his leg, and moved his hand. He pushed the upper ropes to one side, and crossed through. His foot was momentarily trapped, but he gave a big tug, and got out.
“Well done,” said Zoe. “And with no encouragement whatsoever!”
-10001-
“Don’t know if I can do this!” said Zoe, a big smile on her face.
“Course you can,” said Greg. “The tyres are easy.”
Zoe stood into the tyres, and then ran to one side, clearing them with little difficulty.
“See?” said Greg, but less enthusiastically.
Zoe cleared the bench with ease as well, and stopped at the web.
“This one looks hard,” she said. “Mr Pierce? Any advice?”
Mr Pierce looked up from his newspaper.
“The gap at the side’s biggest,” he said. “You’ll get through easily, little slip of a thing like you.” He licked his lips. Peter shuddered.
Zoe struggled through the web, getting caught several times.
“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” called Greg. He looked over at Peter. “How long did I take to do that bit?”
Peter checked his sheet.
“Thirty-four seconds.”
“Ah,” said Greg. “You’ve taken longer than that already. And I paused in the middle.”
“Yes,” said Zoe. “Thanks, Greg.”
She finally managed to get through to the other side.
“I win, right?” said Greg. “I was fastest.”
“I suppose you were,” said Peter. “Congratulations, Greg.” His voice was flat and expressionless. “You win.”
-10001-
Friday
“Welcome to the team, Jenny,” said Sarah, greeting the new girl.
“Umm,” she said. “I’m Zoe.”
“Sorry.”
“How’s the new job treating you, Pete?” asked Angharad. “How does it feel to be above us?”
“He offered you all the job first, didn’t he?” said Peter.
A chorus of yes-es.
“You made a good choice,” said Dave. “I’ve always felt the team wasn’t girly enough.”
“Anyway,” said Angharad. “Five people – enough to answer the question once and for all, without the possibility of a tie.”
“What question?” asked Zoe.
“Best local superhero – Lunar Mist or Sunset?”
“Abstain,” said Peter.
“You can’t abstain!” said Angharad. “It ruins the system.”
“Lunar Mist,” said Zoe. “Without a doubt.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Angharad. “I was relying on you for girl power. I say Sunset.”
“Me too,” said Dave. “She’s less of an attention-seeker.”
“I vote for Lunar Mist,” said Sarah. “Since I met him.”
“See, Pete?” said Angharad. “You have to vote. You’re the tie-breaker.”
Peter sighed. “It’s got to be Sunset, then,” he said.
“Good choice,” said Angharad.
“You’re so wrong,” said Sarah.
Zoe sat back and smiled, already fond of her new office.
“Congratulations, Peter – you’ve been promoted!”
Peter nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He’d only been working for the company for a couple of years – everyone else had been working there far longer.
“Th-thankyou,” he stammered. “But would this mean moving?”
“Not at all!” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “You’ll perform your new duties from your current office.”
“Excellent,” said Peter, relieved. “What’s my new position?”
“Senior Deputy Personnel Assistant Officer,” said the voice.
“And – sorry to ask this, but – the money …?”
“Same wage,” said the voice. “Added responsibilities are the only bonus.”
Peter frowned, trying to work out how more-work-for-the-same-money was a bonus.
“You know,” said the voice encouragingly. “CV fodder and all that. And there’s only one new responsibility, too.”
“Which is?”
“Conducting the interview for your current job’s replacement, of course!”
The phone was put down.
Some office research was all it took for Peter to realise that the company merely wanted a new employee without having to pay anyone extra.
-10001-
Tuesday
“So,” asked Peter. “Where did you work last?”
“A large cardboard box factory,” said Norman Pierce.
“Large enough for me to have heard of it?” wondered Peter aloud.
“No, you misunderstand,” said Norman. “It made large boxes. The factory itself was very small.”
“Right.”
“Only me, in fact.”
“Could I have a look at your references …?”
Norman Pierce handed over the file. Peter glanced at the pages inside.
“Well, Mr Pierce, it seems that this one’s from you,” he said. “And THIS one … is ALSO from you.”
“Like I said. Just me, on my own.”
“Who employed you?”
“I was self-employed.”
“Okay … Did you earn much money with this company?”
“None.”
“I see.”
“Do you want a cardboard box?”
-10001-
“What do you think you’d bring to this job?” asked Peter.
“Humour, mostly,” said the Great Bonzo. “And a little bit of magic.”
“I see.” Peter checked the file. “Reasons for leaving your last job?”
“Failed a police check,” said the Great Bonzo. “Wasn’t allowed to work with kids.”
“I fear to ask,” said Peter, “But have you got your police check with you?”
The Great Bonzo handed over the file.
“Pig rustling?!”
“Needed a pig for my act.”
“What act?”
“Sawing a pig in half.”
“Did it work?”
“It was partially successful.” The Great Bonzo paused. “Have you got any kids you need entertaining? They’d have to be over eighteen, mind.”
-10001-
“Why did you apply for the job?” asked Peter.
“I want a pony,” said Jenny Francis.
“Okay.”
“And a Barbie doll.”
“Right.” Peter checked her forms. “Reasons for leaving your last job?”
“THEY BROKE FRIENDS!” wailed Jenny.
“Pardon?”
“Even though we said the Make Friends Make Friends poem.”
“What?”
“But it’s alright. They’ll have caught the flu by now. They won’t be recovering.”
Peter thought it worth going back to the basics.
“Let’s start with something simpler,” he said. “Age?”
“Thirty-eight,” said Jenny. “And three-quarters.”
-10001-
“Reasons for leaving your last job?” asked Peter.
“Haven’t,” said Gregory Jones.
“You haven’t?”
“Nah, still working in Spar,” he said. “I’ll give it up when I get this job, though.” He paused. “Sorry – IF I get this job.” He winked at Peter.
“May I see your references?”
Greg handed over the file.
“Actually,” said Peter, “These seem quite professional. Mind if I contact these people?”
“Not at all.”
“So, Phil Hughes is your current boss …”
“That’s right.”
“And your character reference - Laoren … Zen-wee?”
“Zhenhui,” said Greg. “She’s my housemate.” He chortled. “And anything she tells you isn’t true! Except about me having twenty-eight pints in one night.” He winked again.
“We’ll get back to you,” said Peter.
-10001-
“Zoe Lucas,” read Peter. “Nice name.”
“I like it!” said Zoe Lucas. “Nice and unusual. You don’t get many Zoes. Apart from the obvious.”
“Pardon my ignorance,” said Peter. “Who’s the obvious?”
“Zoe Karbonopsina, fourth wife to Byzantine emperor Leo the Fourth,” she said.
“I see.”
“And the girl who sang Sunshine on a Rainy Day.”
“Of course.”
“She’s done a lot of damage to the brand.”
“Reasons for leaving your last job?” asked Peter.
“Unpredictable hours didn’t agree with me,” said Zoe. “Ironic, really.”
“Why is that ironic?”
“It isn’t, really. Just like to confirm whether potential colleagues know what the word means.”
“A rhetorical device based on an incongruity between what is said and what is understood,” said Peter.
Zoe grinned. “So far, on my list of worthwhile people, you’re winning.”
“I remain unbiased,” said Peter.
“Damn.” Zoe was still grinning.
-10001-
Wednesday
“Alright, Peter, what have you got for me?” asked Derek Davies, one of Mr Emery’s infamous matching-initialled executives.
“The last question on the form asked them to write a bit about themselves,” said Peter. “Thought you’d like to see them.”
Norman Pierce
“I was born in 1943. I have lived in Britain for most of my life, but I lived abroad between 1964 and 1970 and also between 1974 and 1979, as a protest to the Labour party being in government during those years. I considered moving again in 1997 but I had inexplicably run out of money. I would like this job to save up and move once again, as even though this new fellow could secure a Conservative government at last, he seems to be a woolly gaylord lefty to me.”
The Great Bonzo
“Pick a number! Any number! Now add 17! Now take away your original number! You’re thinking of 17! Just a bit of fun! Why did the chicken cross the road? Well, it was hardly going to get to the other side if it didn’t, was it? What’s worse than finding a maggot in your apple? A runny nose! Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree? No? That’s because they paint their toenails red.”
Jenny Francis
“I’m lovely and bubbly and lots of fun to have around and I work very hard but I get tired quickly but it doesn’t matter because I take regular naps and don’t worry because I’ll stay late and do more work and sometimes come in on the weekends if that’s allowed and I’ll even come in if I’ve got a headache or a bad tummy or something and work then even though mummy says I shouldn’t because I might give it to someone else but I think you can only pass on a tummy ache if you rub tummies with someone and I’d never do that because it’s disgusting.”
Gregory Jones
“I’m a fun loving twenty-something who's eagre to learn and always up for a laugh. I’m reliable and easy to get on with, and I work well in a team. I have three years’ experience working in Spar, and although that’s not relevant to this job, I feel that I’ve learned a lot of valuable skills, such as punctuality. I’m a good mathematician and I’m learning to play the trumpet.”
Zoe Lucas
“I have three years’ experience as a police officer. Learnt a lot, especially about paperwork. As much fun as the paperwork was, I found the whole criminal-catching thing a bit dull, so I thought I’d focus wholly on an office job. I like long walks on beaches. And by ‘long walks’, I mean that I require camping equipment. I’m a big fan of the works of Marquis de Condorcet, particularly his views on liberalism and equal rights and such. I’m never sure what to write in this bit.”
“I see,” said Derek Davies. “And what are your feelings thus far?”
“I think we ought to discount the Great Bonzo and Jenny Francis immediately,” said Peter. “And possibly consider arranging counselling for them.”
-10001-
Thursday
“It’s a simple exercise,” said Peter. “Designed to test your abilities to work as a team.”
Norman, Bonzo, Jenny, Greg and Zoe surveyed the assault course with trepidation.
“If you put on the padding …” started Peter.
“I can’t do it,” said Jenny. “I’ve got a note.” She put on a big show of patting all her pockets. “I’ve got it somewhere. It might be in my bag.” She left the room. After a few minutes, Peter realised she wasn’t coming back.
“This is how it works,” said Peter. “You take it in turn to complete the course. The three of you not running the course must encourage the one who is. Completing the course isn’t essential – I just want an idea of teamwork.”
-10001-
“Go, Norman!” called Zoe. “You can do it! Come on!”
“I’d prefer ‘Mr Pierce’,” said Norman stiffly. His foot was caught in a tire. “This is a silly exercise. Did that fellow say it was optional?”
“He did, yes,” said Greg slyly. “You might as well stop now.”
“You’re doing so well, though!” lied Zoe. “Try finishing this bit at least.”
“My dog has no nose …” said the Great Bonzo.
-10001-
“Go Bonzo! It’s your birthday!” sang Greg and Zoe in unison.
“I don’t like this,” said Bonzo in a small voice, walking over a narrow bench. “I feel like everyone’s watching me.”
“Think of it as a party trick!” said Zoe. “Like in your children’s parties.”
“Ah, well, yes,” said Bonzo. “Thing is, I never did any. Rehearsed them. Never got to try one.”
He fell from the bench. Greg laughed. Bonzo cried. Greg felt bad. Bonzo left. Everyone looked at Greg.
“Sorry.”
-10001-
Greg navigated the tyres easily, and managed to cross the bench with little effort, but he had trouble getting through the skipping rope web.
“Try getting your left hand-“ started Zoe.
“Don’t help me!” shouted Greg. “I can do this.”
He moved his leg, as though intentionally leaving his left hand where it was. He tripped, facing upside-down.
“Look at yourself, man,” said Norman. “You’re making a fool of yourself. Listen to the girl.”
Zoe bit her tounge.
“I can’t get my arm through …”
“Skip the web, then,” said Zoe. “You don’t have to do them all anyway.”
Greg frowned, and concentrated. He untangled his leg, and moved his hand. He pushed the upper ropes to one side, and crossed through. His foot was momentarily trapped, but he gave a big tug, and got out.
“Well done,” said Zoe. “And with no encouragement whatsoever!”
-10001-
“Don’t know if I can do this!” said Zoe, a big smile on her face.
“Course you can,” said Greg. “The tyres are easy.”
Zoe stood into the tyres, and then ran to one side, clearing them with little difficulty.
“See?” said Greg, but less enthusiastically.
Zoe cleared the bench with ease as well, and stopped at the web.
“This one looks hard,” she said. “Mr Pierce? Any advice?”
Mr Pierce looked up from his newspaper.
“The gap at the side’s biggest,” he said. “You’ll get through easily, little slip of a thing like you.” He licked his lips. Peter shuddered.
Zoe struggled through the web, getting caught several times.
“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” called Greg. He looked over at Peter. “How long did I take to do that bit?”
Peter checked his sheet.
“Thirty-four seconds.”
“Ah,” said Greg. “You’ve taken longer than that already. And I paused in the middle.”
“Yes,” said Zoe. “Thanks, Greg.”
She finally managed to get through to the other side.
“I win, right?” said Greg. “I was fastest.”
“I suppose you were,” said Peter. “Congratulations, Greg.” His voice was flat and expressionless. “You win.”
-10001-
Friday
“Welcome to the team, Jenny,” said Sarah, greeting the new girl.
“Umm,” she said. “I’m Zoe.”
“Sorry.”
“How’s the new job treating you, Pete?” asked Angharad. “How does it feel to be above us?”
“He offered you all the job first, didn’t he?” said Peter.
A chorus of yes-es.
“You made a good choice,” said Dave. “I’ve always felt the team wasn’t girly enough.”
“Anyway,” said Angharad. “Five people – enough to answer the question once and for all, without the possibility of a tie.”
“What question?” asked Zoe.
“Best local superhero – Lunar Mist or Sunset?”
“Abstain,” said Peter.
“You can’t abstain!” said Angharad. “It ruins the system.”
“Lunar Mist,” said Zoe. “Without a doubt.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Angharad. “I was relying on you for girl power. I say Sunset.”
“Me too,” said Dave. “She’s less of an attention-seeker.”
“I vote for Lunar Mist,” said Sarah. “Since I met him.”
“See, Pete?” said Angharad. “You have to vote. You’re the tie-breaker.”
Peter sighed. “It’s got to be Sunset, then,” he said.
“Good choice,” said Angharad.
“You’re so wrong,” said Sarah.
Zoe sat back and smiled, already fond of her new office.
Wednesday, 16 May 2007
Behind Closed Doors
“Some of the SALC guys have been caught,” said Sunset, sitting on the roof of the Pavilion Theatre. “Not the Director, though.”
“Do we know what it stands for?” asked Lunar Mtist.
“’Smokers Against Legal Cancer’,” replied Sunset. “Their point being that ‘smoking don’t kill people, lawyers do’. Sort-of thing.”
“I hate people like that,” said Lunar Mist. “As soon as a new law comes in, they whine about it being unjust. Do they realise how much effort it takes to pass a new law in the first place?”
“I wonder if it happens with all laws,” said Sunset. “Like, if taxi drivers moaned about having to carry hay everywhere. Or if people in that US state cried bloody murder about their pickle having to bounce to be legally considered a pickle.”
Lunar Mist stared out over the city.
“Think it ever ends?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The quest,” he replied. “The journey. We’re trying to prevent crime in this city, but it seems that the more we prevent, the more new crimes get invented.”
“We’re not really expected to police the smoking ban, are we?”
“No, but you know what I mean. Does anyone ever complete their life’s work? Or do they just die from exhaustion?”
-10001-
Mr Spencer arrived at her front door. And he stopped running. He opened his briefcase, and checked the device. He laughed. He roared with laughter. He practically punched the air. He wiped a tear from his eye.
He could have savoured it. The last moment. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to finish.
He closed the briefcase, and ran around in a wide circle.
The last seventeen steps.
-10001-
“Sometimes, I feel we’re just a drop in the ocean,” said Lunar Mist. “Two of us, trying to make a difference.”
“There used to be just one,” Sunset reminded him. “You inspired me to do this. Without you, I wouldn’t be fighting crime either. You’re responsible for both our achievements.”
“Thanks,” said Lunar Mist gratefully. “But your achievements are your own. Inspired by me or not, you’re better than I am. You put away more criminals, you prevent more crime.”
“And you’ve been doing it longer.”
“And it won’t be long until you’ve caught up.”
“Oh, shush.”
“But, you know,” Lunar Mist continued. “We do what we can, but we only manage to prevent high-profile crime. Super-villains, kidnappings, terrorism.”
“Isn’t that the most important thing?”
“Maybe. But you never know what we’re missing. What happens behind closed doors.”
-10001-
It was 2001. Mr Spencer had a visitor.
“Hello, there, Mr Spencer,” said the visitor. “I’m Doctor Walker. I have it on good authority that you’ve created a serum with some rather interesting effects.”
“It’s not ready to be shown yet,” said Mr Spencer. “I’m going to use it for my doctorate.”
“I’m afraid you’ll sell it to me,” said Doctor Walker.
“It’s not for sale,” said Mr Spencer.
“Then you’ll exchange it for this,” said Doctor Walker, presenting a small vial.
“What is it?”
“The only known cure to the Broken Mirror Virus,” said Doctor Walker. “A new virus of my own creation, which kills the victim in exactly seven years.”
“I don’t understand,” said Mr Spencer. “Why would I need a cure for such a virus?”
“Because soon, you’ll need the cure yourself.”
Mr Spencer snorted with derision.
“I can’t be blackmailed,” said Mr Spencer. “My serum would be very dangerous in the wrong hands. I imagine you threaten to poison me? Even if you do so, I would die with the secret rather than hand it over to a terrorist.”
Mr Spencer tried to close the door, but Doctor Walker blocked it with his foot.
“I wouldn’t be poisoning YOU,” he said. “I would be poisoning HER.”
Mr Spencer’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes, you may value the serum over your own life, but I knew you’d do anything for hers.” Doctor Walker checked his watch. “By now, my assistant will have administered the poison. Would you care to make a deal?”
-10001-
“It’s all about finding another way in,” said Sunset. “I’ve felt helpless before, and I’ve always managed to remain upbeat. You just focus the energy onto something else.”
“Like what?” asked Lunar Mist.
“If you’re feeling down, find a supervillain,” Sunset explained. “The adrenalin of a good fight will soon have you back to your old self. Or, if you’re lacking job satisfaction, find some people you’ve saved in the past. It’s a bit self-indulgent, but I personally like to call to see parents of young children I’ve saved.”
“Really?”
“Always with an excuse, of course,” said Sunset. “Plenty of people think that my mild-mannered alter-ego is a Jehova’s Witness.”
Lunar Mist considered this.
“That might help, actually,” he said. “Remind myself of the good I can do.”
“See?” said Sunset. “Cheered up already. As I say, there’s always another way.”
-10001-
She was crying. Trying to control herself for Mr Spencer’s sake.
“I won’t be the one to ruin your life,” he said.
“I won’t be the one to ruin your life’s work,” she said. “You know what that man could do with this serum thing. He could – and probably would – kill hundreds if not thousands of innocent people. I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for those.”
“I’m not sacrificing anyone,” said Mr Spencer. “He’s given me another way.”
“What?”
“He sent me this device,” he said, indicating the heavy box on his lap. “It can generate a current that neutralises the virus instantly.”
“Why on Earth did he do that?”
“To give me a sense of perspective,” said Mr Spencer. “To prove just how powerful this dormant virus is.” He sighed. “It needs so much power. And he’s designed it in such a way that there’s only one way to charge it.”
“How?” she asked.
“You wire it into your body,” said Mr Spencer. “Through the wrist, I imagine. And then …”
“Yes?”
“You have to run.”
-10001-
“You have to keep going,” said Sunset. “Keep working, keep doing ANYTHING to keep yourself fulfilled.” She looked over at Lunar Mist. “We’re in a high-risk job, and that means we end up doing all sorts of crazy things. Like in Torchwood.”
“You watch Torchwood?!”
“I love it!”
“You’re mental,” said Lunar Mist. “So you’re suggesting we drown out the noise with copious amounts of adultery?”
“Course not,” said Sunset. “Because that goes against the grain. It’s human nature to want to protect the world, and make it a better place. That ranges from wanting to bring about world peace, all the way down to wanting to make a loved one smile. They’re equally important.”
“This from a Torchwood fan …”
“Oh, shush.” Sunset walked over, and placed a hand on Lunar Mist’s arm. “You make the world better, a little bit at a time. It’s why people raise children to the best of their abilities – increase the amount of people like themselves in the world. Even murderers mostly believe that their victims genuinely deserve to die.”
“And us?”
“We maintain the balance. We cancel out the amateurish efforts of the ignorant and the immoral to lead us into a world run by terror.”
“Did you get that from a book?”
“Of course.”
“And how long do we need to do this?” asked Lunar Mist. “How long until we’ve done enough?”
“On a long enough timescale? Forever,” said Sunset. “Tonight? As much as we can.”
-10001-
“Six years.”
“No!”
“I can do it in six years.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Twelve hours a day. Six years.”
“Don’t go.”
“I have to. It’s the only option.”
“You can’t RUN for TWELVE HOURS A DAY for SIX YEARS.”
“Yes I can. I start tomorrow.”
“Please, don’t.”
“I’m going, and that’s final.”
“I have seven years left. Only seven years. I have to spend them with you.”
“We’ll have decades when I return.”
“No …”
“I was going to sell my house anyway. Mind if I leave all my things here?”
“Stay.”
-10001-
“Feeling better?” asked Sunset.
“Yes,” said Lunar Mist.
“Not going to go all ‘Lunar Mist No More’ on me?”
“No,” he laughed.
“Good. You’re my muse. Need you around, or I can’t work.”
Lunar Mist wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.
“Do you fancy teaming up?” he asked. “Fighting side by side?”
“Best not,” said Sunset. “We get more work done seperately. Tell you what, though – I’ll give you my mobile number. We can help each other out in emergencies.”
“Good thinking,” said Lunar Mist. He surveyed the city again. “What shall we do now?”
Sunset approached the edge of the roof.
“Go grab a fat slice of satisfaction!”
-10001-
She hadn’t seen him in nearly five years. It had been even longer since she’d since him out of that suit.
It had been five years since she’d asked him not to tell anyone why he was running. She couldn’t bear the thought of him sacrificing his entire life for her sake, and didn’t want to be seen as the selfish girl who sat at home all day while he ran.
She’d hated that device. What kind of scum would create something like that? The answer to all the problems, keyed in to Mr Spencer’s own DNA, so that it wouldn’t work if anyone else used it. And why running? Why not cycling?
A knock on the door.
She stood up, slowly. She hadn’t cried in five years – she felt as though she’d run out of tears – but she could feel the emotion behind her eyes.
She walked towards the door. She opened it.
“Hello,” said Mr Spencer. “Might need a show-“
She launched herself at him, hugging him tightly, pulling him indoors. He pushed the door shut as she kissed him passionately.
“A year in hand,” he said. “And I got the last three months off by running extra.”
She held him tightly, crying now.
“I love you,” she wailed. “You’re back.”
“I did it,” said Mr Spencer, as calm as ever.
He opened the briefcase, and took the attachment out of his wrist. He disinfected the needle – the last of the disinfectant he’d brought with him – took her wrist, rubbing the last of his anasthetic onto it, and placed the needle inside. She felt a current passing through her body. After several minutes, the device was out of energy.
She smiled broadly.
“It’s gone,” she said. “I can feel it.”
And finally, Mr Spencer gave in to his own emotions. He lifted her from her feet, hugging her as tightly as she’d held him, kissing her deeply.
For the first time since the wedding, Mrs Spencer had her husband back.
“Do we know what it stands for?” asked Lunar Mtist.
“’Smokers Against Legal Cancer’,” replied Sunset. “Their point being that ‘smoking don’t kill people, lawyers do’. Sort-of thing.”
“I hate people like that,” said Lunar Mist. “As soon as a new law comes in, they whine about it being unjust. Do they realise how much effort it takes to pass a new law in the first place?”
“I wonder if it happens with all laws,” said Sunset. “Like, if taxi drivers moaned about having to carry hay everywhere. Or if people in that US state cried bloody murder about their pickle having to bounce to be legally considered a pickle.”
Lunar Mist stared out over the city.
“Think it ever ends?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The quest,” he replied. “The journey. We’re trying to prevent crime in this city, but it seems that the more we prevent, the more new crimes get invented.”
“We’re not really expected to police the smoking ban, are we?”
“No, but you know what I mean. Does anyone ever complete their life’s work? Or do they just die from exhaustion?”
-10001-
Mr Spencer arrived at her front door. And he stopped running. He opened his briefcase, and checked the device. He laughed. He roared with laughter. He practically punched the air. He wiped a tear from his eye.
He could have savoured it. The last moment. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to finish.
He closed the briefcase, and ran around in a wide circle.
The last seventeen steps.
-10001-
“Sometimes, I feel we’re just a drop in the ocean,” said Lunar Mist. “Two of us, trying to make a difference.”
“There used to be just one,” Sunset reminded him. “You inspired me to do this. Without you, I wouldn’t be fighting crime either. You’re responsible for both our achievements.”
“Thanks,” said Lunar Mist gratefully. “But your achievements are your own. Inspired by me or not, you’re better than I am. You put away more criminals, you prevent more crime.”
“And you’ve been doing it longer.”
“And it won’t be long until you’ve caught up.”
“Oh, shush.”
“But, you know,” Lunar Mist continued. “We do what we can, but we only manage to prevent high-profile crime. Super-villains, kidnappings, terrorism.”
“Isn’t that the most important thing?”
“Maybe. But you never know what we’re missing. What happens behind closed doors.”
-10001-
It was 2001. Mr Spencer had a visitor.
“Hello, there, Mr Spencer,” said the visitor. “I’m Doctor Walker. I have it on good authority that you’ve created a serum with some rather interesting effects.”
“It’s not ready to be shown yet,” said Mr Spencer. “I’m going to use it for my doctorate.”
“I’m afraid you’ll sell it to me,” said Doctor Walker.
“It’s not for sale,” said Mr Spencer.
“Then you’ll exchange it for this,” said Doctor Walker, presenting a small vial.
“What is it?”
“The only known cure to the Broken Mirror Virus,” said Doctor Walker. “A new virus of my own creation, which kills the victim in exactly seven years.”
“I don’t understand,” said Mr Spencer. “Why would I need a cure for such a virus?”
“Because soon, you’ll need the cure yourself.”
Mr Spencer snorted with derision.
“I can’t be blackmailed,” said Mr Spencer. “My serum would be very dangerous in the wrong hands. I imagine you threaten to poison me? Even if you do so, I would die with the secret rather than hand it over to a terrorist.”
Mr Spencer tried to close the door, but Doctor Walker blocked it with his foot.
“I wouldn’t be poisoning YOU,” he said. “I would be poisoning HER.”
Mr Spencer’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes, you may value the serum over your own life, but I knew you’d do anything for hers.” Doctor Walker checked his watch. “By now, my assistant will have administered the poison. Would you care to make a deal?”
-10001-
“It’s all about finding another way in,” said Sunset. “I’ve felt helpless before, and I’ve always managed to remain upbeat. You just focus the energy onto something else.”
“Like what?” asked Lunar Mist.
“If you’re feeling down, find a supervillain,” Sunset explained. “The adrenalin of a good fight will soon have you back to your old self. Or, if you’re lacking job satisfaction, find some people you’ve saved in the past. It’s a bit self-indulgent, but I personally like to call to see parents of young children I’ve saved.”
“Really?”
“Always with an excuse, of course,” said Sunset. “Plenty of people think that my mild-mannered alter-ego is a Jehova’s Witness.”
Lunar Mist considered this.
“That might help, actually,” he said. “Remind myself of the good I can do.”
“See?” said Sunset. “Cheered up already. As I say, there’s always another way.”
-10001-
She was crying. Trying to control herself for Mr Spencer’s sake.
“I won’t be the one to ruin your life,” he said.
“I won’t be the one to ruin your life’s work,” she said. “You know what that man could do with this serum thing. He could – and probably would – kill hundreds if not thousands of innocent people. I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for those.”
“I’m not sacrificing anyone,” said Mr Spencer. “He’s given me another way.”
“What?”
“He sent me this device,” he said, indicating the heavy box on his lap. “It can generate a current that neutralises the virus instantly.”
“Why on Earth did he do that?”
“To give me a sense of perspective,” said Mr Spencer. “To prove just how powerful this dormant virus is.” He sighed. “It needs so much power. And he’s designed it in such a way that there’s only one way to charge it.”
“How?” she asked.
“You wire it into your body,” said Mr Spencer. “Through the wrist, I imagine. And then …”
“Yes?”
“You have to run.”
-10001-
“You have to keep going,” said Sunset. “Keep working, keep doing ANYTHING to keep yourself fulfilled.” She looked over at Lunar Mist. “We’re in a high-risk job, and that means we end up doing all sorts of crazy things. Like in Torchwood.”
“You watch Torchwood?!”
“I love it!”
“You’re mental,” said Lunar Mist. “So you’re suggesting we drown out the noise with copious amounts of adultery?”
“Course not,” said Sunset. “Because that goes against the grain. It’s human nature to want to protect the world, and make it a better place. That ranges from wanting to bring about world peace, all the way down to wanting to make a loved one smile. They’re equally important.”
“This from a Torchwood fan …”
“Oh, shush.” Sunset walked over, and placed a hand on Lunar Mist’s arm. “You make the world better, a little bit at a time. It’s why people raise children to the best of their abilities – increase the amount of people like themselves in the world. Even murderers mostly believe that their victims genuinely deserve to die.”
“And us?”
“We maintain the balance. We cancel out the amateurish efforts of the ignorant and the immoral to lead us into a world run by terror.”
“Did you get that from a book?”
“Of course.”
“And how long do we need to do this?” asked Lunar Mist. “How long until we’ve done enough?”
“On a long enough timescale? Forever,” said Sunset. “Tonight? As much as we can.”
-10001-
“Six years.”
“No!”
“I can do it in six years.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Twelve hours a day. Six years.”
“Don’t go.”
“I have to. It’s the only option.”
“You can’t RUN for TWELVE HOURS A DAY for SIX YEARS.”
“Yes I can. I start tomorrow.”
“Please, don’t.”
“I’m going, and that’s final.”
“I have seven years left. Only seven years. I have to spend them with you.”
“We’ll have decades when I return.”
“No …”
“I was going to sell my house anyway. Mind if I leave all my things here?”
“Stay.”
-10001-
“Feeling better?” asked Sunset.
“Yes,” said Lunar Mist.
“Not going to go all ‘Lunar Mist No More’ on me?”
“No,” he laughed.
“Good. You’re my muse. Need you around, or I can’t work.”
Lunar Mist wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.
“Do you fancy teaming up?” he asked. “Fighting side by side?”
“Best not,” said Sunset. “We get more work done seperately. Tell you what, though – I’ll give you my mobile number. We can help each other out in emergencies.”
“Good thinking,” said Lunar Mist. He surveyed the city again. “What shall we do now?”
Sunset approached the edge of the roof.
“Go grab a fat slice of satisfaction!”
-10001-
She hadn’t seen him in nearly five years. It had been even longer since she’d since him out of that suit.
It had been five years since she’d asked him not to tell anyone why he was running. She couldn’t bear the thought of him sacrificing his entire life for her sake, and didn’t want to be seen as the selfish girl who sat at home all day while he ran.
She’d hated that device. What kind of scum would create something like that? The answer to all the problems, keyed in to Mr Spencer’s own DNA, so that it wouldn’t work if anyone else used it. And why running? Why not cycling?
A knock on the door.
She stood up, slowly. She hadn’t cried in five years – she felt as though she’d run out of tears – but she could feel the emotion behind her eyes.
She walked towards the door. She opened it.
“Hello,” said Mr Spencer. “Might need a show-“
She launched herself at him, hugging him tightly, pulling him indoors. He pushed the door shut as she kissed him passionately.
“A year in hand,” he said. “And I got the last three months off by running extra.”
She held him tightly, crying now.
“I love you,” she wailed. “You’re back.”
“I did it,” said Mr Spencer, as calm as ever.
He opened the briefcase, and took the attachment out of his wrist. He disinfected the needle – the last of the disinfectant he’d brought with him – took her wrist, rubbing the last of his anasthetic onto it, and placed the needle inside. She felt a current passing through her body. After several minutes, the device was out of energy.
She smiled broadly.
“It’s gone,” she said. “I can feel it.”
And finally, Mr Spencer gave in to his own emotions. He lifted her from her feet, hugging her as tightly as she’d held him, kissing her deeply.
For the first time since the wedding, Mrs Spencer had her husband back.
Monday, 14 May 2007
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.
“… 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.
Friday, 6 April 2007
Flick Knife
Sarah walked out of the supermarket, her two bags-for-life full of fairtrade produce and Innocent smoothies. It was very quiet outside.
Sarah liked shopping late in the evening. It meant not having to compete with heavy traffic – very handy, since she only had a bicycle.
It was actually quiter than usual today. Not a single car in the car park, and nobody on the pavement nearby. Weird.
And then she heard a sound. A hissing sound, coming from the direction of the garage. She walked towards the sound to investigate.
She turned the corner, and gasped. The garage was a wreck. All the windows smashed, shelves on the inside thrown all over the place, the newspaper stand outside in pieces. She looked around, searching for any signs of life.
There. By the air compressor – which was also in a poor shape. A shape. A figure, lying on the ground, dressed in a pale green outfit.
Sarah approached slowly. The figure tried to say something.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Run," croaked the figure.
Suddenly, another figure appeared nearby. A slim man in a silver tracksuit, with elbow- and knee-straps covered in blades.
"You want to play hero too?" asked the figure. "Didn't run away with the other civilians?"
"What did you do?" asked Sarah, keeping her voice level.
"All of it," said the figure softly, indicating the wreckage. "Our friend Lunar Mist here tried to stop me. But he's far, far too late."
Sarah looked around incredulously. How on earth could one man commit all of this?
"Take a good look, love," said the figure. "This is my city now. It all belongs to me – Flick Knife."
Exposition? thought Sarah. This guy was clearly a symptom of the modern superhero fad.
"So, for starters," said the man named Flick Knife. "Let's take care of our mutual friend." He looked towards the groaning Lunar Mist. He lifted his right hand, and a long blade slid from a mechanism on his wrist. "We'll start by finding out who he really is."
Sarah barely clocked Flick Knife's evident fondness for secret identities, before moving calmly between him and Lunar Mist.
"What are you doing?" asked Flick Knife, danger in his voice.
"I think you'll do it," said Sarah. "I think you'll readily kill this man. But I'm not letting you get a Supervillain Kills Superhero headline. You'll have to kill me first. And we'll see how THAT looks in the papers."
Flick Knife paused.
"Dangerous," he said. "You're assuming I'm a comics fan." He lifted his wrist-blade again. "I'm not. I'm a psychopath."
He slashed the knife dangerously.
Sarah kicked upwards, her walking boot colliding with Flick Knife's jaw.
"And you're assuming I'm cannon fodder."
As Flick Knife reached automatically for his jaw, Sarah punched him in the chest, hooked her leg around his, and pulled. Flick Knife fell to the floor.
Lunar Mist pushed himself up from the ground, nursing his ribcage.
Sarah stood over Flick Knife, gauging his likelyhood of getting up again.
"You have weapons," she said. "But you're still human."
Secretly, Sarah liked playing the superhero.
-10001-
"I can't believe it," said Dave, reading the paper during the tea break. "You actually stopped a proper supervillain."
"Don't call him that," scoffed Sarah. "As soon as you acknowledge these people's attempts at being cool, you encourage more of it."
"Still," said Angharad. "They've got a photo of you with Lunar Mist."
"Which means someone else was around and didn't bother to help," said Sarah. "It's sickening."
"I suppose nobody thinks to help superheroes," said Dave.
"He was flat-out on the floor!" said Sarah.
"I didn't mean Lunar Mist," said Dave, before having a balled-up piece of paper thrown at him.
Sarah liked shopping late in the evening. It meant not having to compete with heavy traffic – very handy, since she only had a bicycle.
It was actually quiter than usual today. Not a single car in the car park, and nobody on the pavement nearby. Weird.
And then she heard a sound. A hissing sound, coming from the direction of the garage. She walked towards the sound to investigate.
She turned the corner, and gasped. The garage was a wreck. All the windows smashed, shelves on the inside thrown all over the place, the newspaper stand outside in pieces. She looked around, searching for any signs of life.
There. By the air compressor – which was also in a poor shape. A shape. A figure, lying on the ground, dressed in a pale green outfit.
Sarah approached slowly. The figure tried to say something.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Run," croaked the figure.
Suddenly, another figure appeared nearby. A slim man in a silver tracksuit, with elbow- and knee-straps covered in blades.
"You want to play hero too?" asked the figure. "Didn't run away with the other civilians?"
"What did you do?" asked Sarah, keeping her voice level.
"All of it," said the figure softly, indicating the wreckage. "Our friend Lunar Mist here tried to stop me. But he's far, far too late."
Sarah looked around incredulously. How on earth could one man commit all of this?
"Take a good look, love," said the figure. "This is my city now. It all belongs to me – Flick Knife."
Exposition? thought Sarah. This guy was clearly a symptom of the modern superhero fad.
"So, for starters," said the man named Flick Knife. "Let's take care of our mutual friend." He looked towards the groaning Lunar Mist. He lifted his right hand, and a long blade slid from a mechanism on his wrist. "We'll start by finding out who he really is."
Sarah barely clocked Flick Knife's evident fondness for secret identities, before moving calmly between him and Lunar Mist.
"What are you doing?" asked Flick Knife, danger in his voice.
"I think you'll do it," said Sarah. "I think you'll readily kill this man. But I'm not letting you get a Supervillain Kills Superhero headline. You'll have to kill me first. And we'll see how THAT looks in the papers."
Flick Knife paused.
"Dangerous," he said. "You're assuming I'm a comics fan." He lifted his wrist-blade again. "I'm not. I'm a psychopath."
He slashed the knife dangerously.
Sarah kicked upwards, her walking boot colliding with Flick Knife's jaw.
"And you're assuming I'm cannon fodder."
As Flick Knife reached automatically for his jaw, Sarah punched him in the chest, hooked her leg around his, and pulled. Flick Knife fell to the floor.
Lunar Mist pushed himself up from the ground, nursing his ribcage.
Sarah stood over Flick Knife, gauging his likelyhood of getting up again.
"You have weapons," she said. "But you're still human."
Secretly, Sarah liked playing the superhero.
-10001-
"I can't believe it," said Dave, reading the paper during the tea break. "You actually stopped a proper supervillain."
"Don't call him that," scoffed Sarah. "As soon as you acknowledge these people's attempts at being cool, you encourage more of it."
"Still," said Angharad. "They've got a photo of you with Lunar Mist."
"Which means someone else was around and didn't bother to help," said Sarah. "It's sickening."
"I suppose nobody thinks to help superheroes," said Dave.
"He was flat-out on the floor!" said Sarah.
"I didn't mean Lunar Mist," said Dave, before having a balled-up piece of paper thrown at him.
Wednesday, 4 April 2007
The Sun and the Moon
Peter crossed the room towards his fellow workers, filling a cup with water from the nearby cooler.
Angharad was reading a magazine.
"It's got an article on those superheroes," she said. "Theories of who they might be."
"Anyone interesting?" asked Dave.
"Celebrities mostly. Reality TV drop-outs from the area."
"Rubbish."
Peter peered over the pages, and saw that they'd included some photos. A blurry, long-distance shot of Sunset, and a close-up of Lunar Mist jumping from one building to another. He couldn't understand how Sunset managed to avoid the paparazzi so much better than Lunar Mist.
"I see they haven't mentioned the Hoodie," said Angharad.
"As if he counts!" scoffed Sarah. "Spelling a nickname with capitals is hardly grounds for official superhero status."
"Otherwise I'd have trademarked The Technician a long time ago," said Dave. "For the time being, I need to get my utility belt built first."
They all laughed.
"I doubt we'd know who they were," said Sarah. "I mean, there are about two hundred thousand people in this city. What are the odds that we'd know them?"
"They'd probably look tired all the time," said Angharad.
"Sarah DOES look tired all –" started Dave, before being hit on the arm.
"I don't think I know anyone who'd call themselves Lunar Mist either," said Angharad.
"Might be a double bluff," said Dave. "I use things like 'Brookside' as passwords, since no-one would associate those things with me."
"They must have jobs," said Sarah thoughtfully. "They must have a fair bit of cash to afford those costumes."
"We've never seen Sunset close up," said Angharad. "She might have a budget costume."
"You think Sunset's a girl?" asked Peter, piping in for the first time.
"With a name like 'Sunset'?" said Angharad. "It's not particularly masculine, is it?"
"It's ... androgynous, I'd have said," said Peter.
"Maybe you're right," said Angharad. "Suppose we'll never know."
She turned to the next page.
"Oh, have you seen this?" she said. "They're building a new Amazon warehouse in the city."
-10001-
Peter arrived at home, and locked the door. He had a quick shower, and changed into his pale green costume. Ensuring that his helmet was on safely, and that his boots were nice and comfortable, he opened a window, and jumped to the top of the block of flats opposite.
He hit the ground running, and didn't stop. The further from his own flat he could get, the better. He jumped deftly from rooftop to rooftop, hiding behind landmarks and trees as best he could.
It wasn't long until he could see the city centre. He jumped onto the rooftop of the Pavilion Theatre, and paused for a breath. He was fond of the theatre, because the border alongside provided plenty of cover to hide him from the public.
"Hello, there," said a voice from behind him.
Peter froze. Should he look behind him, or jump away? He decided that, since he was in-costume, he could always escape if need be. He turned around.
"You must be Lunar Mist."
Peter's eyes widened behind his visor. Standing opposite him was a figure in a rich firey costume – red boots becoming an orange unitard with yellow gloves, with a headpiece featuring a simple sun design. Peter examined the figure.
"You're female," he said.
"I suppose I am," said Sunset. "Didn't you know?"
"I've never seen you close up."
"Well, 'Sunset' is hardly the most masculine name, is it?"
"It's ... androgynous, I'd have said," said Peter.
"Anyway, nice to meet you, Lunar Mist," said Sunset, holding out her hand.
Peter shook it.
"How did you find me?" he asked.
"Waited for you," she said. "You've been spotted on this rooftop several times."
She sat down cross-legged, and invited Peter to do the same.
"To be honest, I thought you were female until I saw a close-up photo," she said.
"Why?" asked Peter, surprised.
"The name, again," said Sunset. "'Lunar Mist'? Quite girly."
"It's an anagr- Never mind."
"I assumed you'd named yourself after the car."
"I'm quite sure they named the car after me."
A silence.
"Alright," said Sunset, her voice less self-assured. "I'll be honest. I needed to talk to someone."
"Why so?"
"I'm a superhero. A bloody superhero. With a costume and powers and everything."
"Right."
"And I can't tell anyone. And I can't call anyone for help. I don't have any back-up. And then people like this Hoodie guy turn up and make the whole thing a joke."
"Not a fan, then?" asked Peter.
"I hate him," said Sunset. "Cocky little so-and-so. And I must say, I've always admired you."
"Me?" Peter was genuinely shocked. "Lunar Mist? The superhero that gets it wrong?"
"I don't think you've 'gotten it wrong'."
"Let's see. Fluffed up attacking a drugs ring, that was my first attempt at heroics. Failed to prosecute a petty thief because a superhero's eye-witness report was deemed untrustwothy. Lost my gloves in the river, saving a young girl, and later had to buy them back on-line. And recently, allowed high-quality photographs of myself to be published in a major magazine."
"A major magazine that thinks you're a celebrity," pointed out Sunset. "People love you, Lunar Mist. Can I call you just Mist?"
"If you like."
"People want to be like you. Film companies are going mental trying to find a loophole that means they don't need permission to make a film about you. You managed to start a superhero career in a world that knows far more than they used to."
"Not as well as you have, though," said Lunar Mist.
"I'm just better at hiding my mistakes," said Sunset. "You know, I modelled myself after you? It's why I avoided using a primary colour for the main part of my costume."
"Really?" Peter shook his head slowly. "That's so nerdy."
"Oh, shut up."
They sat in silence again for some moments.
"I'm going to come here again," said Sunset. "I'll try to call round the same time every evening. Nice to be able to talk, even for a moment, as though being a superhero is anything approaching normal."
"Cool," said Peter. He examined her costume as she crossed to the side of the building, ready to leave. "By the way, I like your costume."
"Thanks!" said Sunset. "It's a budget one!"
Angharad was reading a magazine.
"It's got an article on those superheroes," she said. "Theories of who they might be."
"Anyone interesting?" asked Dave.
"Celebrities mostly. Reality TV drop-outs from the area."
"Rubbish."
Peter peered over the pages, and saw that they'd included some photos. A blurry, long-distance shot of Sunset, and a close-up of Lunar Mist jumping from one building to another. He couldn't understand how Sunset managed to avoid the paparazzi so much better than Lunar Mist.
"I see they haven't mentioned the Hoodie," said Angharad.
"As if he counts!" scoffed Sarah. "Spelling a nickname with capitals is hardly grounds for official superhero status."
"Otherwise I'd have trademarked The Technician a long time ago," said Dave. "For the time being, I need to get my utility belt built first."
They all laughed.
"I doubt we'd know who they were," said Sarah. "I mean, there are about two hundred thousand people in this city. What are the odds that we'd know them?"
"They'd probably look tired all the time," said Angharad.
"Sarah DOES look tired all –" started Dave, before being hit on the arm.
"I don't think I know anyone who'd call themselves Lunar Mist either," said Angharad.
"Might be a double bluff," said Dave. "I use things like 'Brookside' as passwords, since no-one would associate those things with me."
"They must have jobs," said Sarah thoughtfully. "They must have a fair bit of cash to afford those costumes."
"We've never seen Sunset close up," said Angharad. "She might have a budget costume."
"You think Sunset's a girl?" asked Peter, piping in for the first time.
"With a name like 'Sunset'?" said Angharad. "It's not particularly masculine, is it?"
"It's ... androgynous, I'd have said," said Peter.
"Maybe you're right," said Angharad. "Suppose we'll never know."
She turned to the next page.
"Oh, have you seen this?" she said. "They're building a new Amazon warehouse in the city."
-10001-
Peter arrived at home, and locked the door. He had a quick shower, and changed into his pale green costume. Ensuring that his helmet was on safely, and that his boots were nice and comfortable, he opened a window, and jumped to the top of the block of flats opposite.
He hit the ground running, and didn't stop. The further from his own flat he could get, the better. He jumped deftly from rooftop to rooftop, hiding behind landmarks and trees as best he could.
It wasn't long until he could see the city centre. He jumped onto the rooftop of the Pavilion Theatre, and paused for a breath. He was fond of the theatre, because the border alongside provided plenty of cover to hide him from the public.
"Hello, there," said a voice from behind him.
Peter froze. Should he look behind him, or jump away? He decided that, since he was in-costume, he could always escape if need be. He turned around.
"You must be Lunar Mist."
Peter's eyes widened behind his visor. Standing opposite him was a figure in a rich firey costume – red boots becoming an orange unitard with yellow gloves, with a headpiece featuring a simple sun design. Peter examined the figure.
"You're female," he said.
"I suppose I am," said Sunset. "Didn't you know?"
"I've never seen you close up."
"Well, 'Sunset' is hardly the most masculine name, is it?"
"It's ... androgynous, I'd have said," said Peter.
"Anyway, nice to meet you, Lunar Mist," said Sunset, holding out her hand.
Peter shook it.
"How did you find me?" he asked.
"Waited for you," she said. "You've been spotted on this rooftop several times."
She sat down cross-legged, and invited Peter to do the same.
"To be honest, I thought you were female until I saw a close-up photo," she said.
"Why?" asked Peter, surprised.
"The name, again," said Sunset. "'Lunar Mist'? Quite girly."
"It's an anagr- Never mind."
"I assumed you'd named yourself after the car."
"I'm quite sure they named the car after me."
A silence.
"Alright," said Sunset, her voice less self-assured. "I'll be honest. I needed to talk to someone."
"Why so?"
"I'm a superhero. A bloody superhero. With a costume and powers and everything."
"Right."
"And I can't tell anyone. And I can't call anyone for help. I don't have any back-up. And then people like this Hoodie guy turn up and make the whole thing a joke."
"Not a fan, then?" asked Peter.
"I hate him," said Sunset. "Cocky little so-and-so. And I must say, I've always admired you."
"Me?" Peter was genuinely shocked. "Lunar Mist? The superhero that gets it wrong?"
"I don't think you've 'gotten it wrong'."
"Let's see. Fluffed up attacking a drugs ring, that was my first attempt at heroics. Failed to prosecute a petty thief because a superhero's eye-witness report was deemed untrustwothy. Lost my gloves in the river, saving a young girl, and later had to buy them back on-line. And recently, allowed high-quality photographs of myself to be published in a major magazine."
"A major magazine that thinks you're a celebrity," pointed out Sunset. "People love you, Lunar Mist. Can I call you just Mist?"
"If you like."
"People want to be like you. Film companies are going mental trying to find a loophole that means they don't need permission to make a film about you. You managed to start a superhero career in a world that knows far more than they used to."
"Not as well as you have, though," said Lunar Mist.
"I'm just better at hiding my mistakes," said Sunset. "You know, I modelled myself after you? It's why I avoided using a primary colour for the main part of my costume."
"Really?" Peter shook his head slowly. "That's so nerdy."
"Oh, shut up."
They sat in silence again for some moments.
"I'm going to come here again," said Sunset. "I'll try to call round the same time every evening. Nice to be able to talk, even for a moment, as though being a superhero is anything approaching normal."
"Cool," said Peter. He examined her costume as she crossed to the side of the building, ready to leave. "By the way, I like your costume."
"Thanks!" said Sunset. "It's a budget one!"
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