CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Suiting Up, Part 1

“So you can heal both yourself and others, and you also have a power that boosts your physical abilities?” Mr. Moonday enumerated Sam’s current power set while his silver eyes scrutinized the young hero from top to bottom.

“In a nutshell,” Sam said.

Sam neglected to include the existence of the Triple-A training system in his explanation, but he guessed Mr. Moonday already had an inkling about this.

Mr. Moonday glanced at his tablet and reviewed Sam’s profile for a long while.

“You’ve become quite gifted since becoming Chiron’s student, Mr. Shepard,” Mr. Moonday said before looking up from his tablet. “So gifted, in fact, that I can hardly believe you’re still just a zeta or that the news outlets have yet to discover your hero moniker.”

You can tell him the truth, kid, the master’s voice, which only Sam could hear, added in a cheery tone. Tell him how challenging it's been shaping you up to this semi-decent standard.

“Shut it,” Sam whispered.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Moonday asked, his eyebrow twitching upward.

“N-nothing…” Sam scratched the back of his head. “About the moniker… It’s probably because I don’t have one yet…”

“So you’re no longer going by Healing-La—”

“—Nope!” Sam interrupted. His cheeks had turned as red as apples. “That’s definitely not my name anymore…”

Sam had mixed feelings about his former hero moniker. For one thing, he hadn’t thought it up. His mentor had saddled it onto him back when he was just a sidekick, and Sam never really felt like the name fit him.

Mr. Moonday gave Sam another grandfatherly smile.

“Then what shall the world call you, Mr. Shepard?” he asked.

“I…” Sam’s brow furrowed because he still hadn’t thought about it. He didn’t want to just pick a hero moniker out of a hat. He thought the name should mean something to those who heard it. “I don’t know yet…”

“Most heroes choose monikers that define what their powers can do,” Mr. Moonday set his tablet down on the worktable. “And then there are those few who choose a name that will define what they stand for.”

He walked over to where Sam stood on the other side of the worktable and patted him on the shoulder.

“To stand wholeheartedly for an ideal,” Mr. Moonday nodded approvingly, “I can’t help but admire such heroes.”

Even after Mr. Moonday pulled his hand away, Sam could still feel a weight on his shoulder almost like the elder gentleman had left something there, something unseen that Sam couldn’t put his finger on.

Looks like Moonday’s got some big expectations of you, the master chuckled.

So that’s what the feeling was, Sam realized. It was a strange thing to receive because very few people ever had any expectations of him. Yet now there were at least three who were betting on him, and Sam couldn’t help but feel warm inside because of them.

“Now, I can’t help you think up a hero moniker, that’s Chiron’s job.” Mr. Moonday picked up his tablet once more. “What I can do is sell you the tools you may need to stay alive long enough to figure out just what it is you stand for.”

He tapped on his tablet. A second later and the conveyor belt behind the worktable came to life.

“First, let’s talk budget.” Mr. Moonday’s grandfatherly smile vanished as the look of a savvy artisan took over. “I assume Marie isn’t bankrolling this return to the hero’s life… She was never really fond of heroes.”

“No, she isn’t,” Sam agreed, his brow furrowing once again.

When he lived under her roof, Marie discouraged Sam from a future as a hero, going as far as to send him to a school that didn’t offer gift and hero training in its curriculum. When he’d gotten old enough to choose the hero’s life the first time, she’d even threaten to disown him, and it was only with Mr. Kim’s help that Sam got her to not sever their bond.

It wasn’t difficult for Sam to deduce why she was so against the duty that couldn’t be forsworn. After all, it had caused the tragedy that turned her daughter-in-law into the monster that would kill her son, and Sam’s father meant the world to Marie in a way Sam never did.

“Heroes are the playthings of the gods, Samuel,” she’d often said to him. “Don’t let their intrigues take control of your life… don’t let their burdens be your burdens too.”

The memory of his grandmother’s blasphemous words caused a frown to appear on Sam’s face. “Nope, she’s definitely not bankrolling this…”

His eyes fell on the spare running shoes he wore today. They looked worn-out and cheap, which is exactly how Sam used to feel after he quit. Things have changed though. There was a hop in his step now that he was back in the hero's life and doing better at it.

“I don’t really know if I can afford your services, sir,” he admitted. “At most, my budget is…”

Sam willed the radial menu to appear before him, superimposing itself into the space between Sam and the floor. On the bottom right corner, Sam could see the number [622 GD] amounting to 6,220 US Dollars.

He recited these numbers to Mr. Moonday just before glancing up while expecting to be laughed off the workshop. But all Sam got was an affirmative nod.

“That’ll be enough to get you a decent quality Moonday suit, Sam,” he smiled genially.

“Really?” Sam asked in surprise. “But your stuff in the OTC costs thousands of drachmas!”

“The OTC overprices, didn’t you know that?” Mr. Moonday chuckled. “It’s why I prefer my customers come to me directly for things like hero equipment.”

Mr. Moonday raised a finger up as he’d just remembered something.

“I would be remiss not to tell you that Chiron’s students receive a sizeable discount at all my stores,” Mr. Moonday added.

That’s because Moonday and I agree that preparation is key, that’s lesson number seven, kid, his master’s disembodied voice added. Be prepared! Whether it’s your suit or your consumables, make sure you’ve got everything ready for the fight ahead because these items just might save your life.

“Right, makes sense,” Sam whispered in an undertone, but as Mr. Moonday had just given him a questioning look—probably wondering who he was talking to—Sam quickly diverted his attention with, “Can I check out some suits now?”

“Do you have a personal style you’d like me to consider into the suit’s design?” Mr. Moonday asked.

“Oh, yeah…” Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his mask, which he then showed to Mr. Moonday. “I’ve gotten pretty attached to this.”

Mr. Moonday’s eyes widened, their silver irises glinting at the sight of the mask. “This is…”

His fingers reached out to caress its highly detailed bronze surface.

“Hephaestus’ flaming beard,” Mr. Moonday exhaled. “This is a relic from even before the Trojan War… Do you know how rare that is?”

“You can tell its age with just a touch?” Sam asked, his eyebrows rising slightly.

“Every crafted piece has its own rich history ingrained into it by its creator and by those who’ve used it,” Mr. Moonday answered. “I have the power to resonate with such relics as those before I could.”

“Chiron said that this mask belonged to Jason himself,” Sam said.

“The first Argonaut,” Mr. Moonday answered instinctively. “Jason’s successes and very prominent failures, all that rich history within this relic… Your mask truly is quite the treasure…”

His fingers lingered on Sam’s mask a bit longer before he finally pulled his hand away. Interestingly enough, the light that sparked in his eyes dulled too.

“I assume you have yet to unlock all of the mask’s capabilities?” Mr. Moonday asked.

Sam nodded. “I’m not strong enough for it yet…”

“Yes,” Mr. Moonday chuckled. “That is the operative word, isn’t it?”

Oh crap, Sam thought, as he realized that he’d just revealed that he could get stronger.

But it didn’t seem like Mr. Moonday was interested in Sam’s little snafu because he was already tapping away on his tablet while mumbling to himself.

“No, this is too bulky for your lean frame,” and “Too expensive and absolutely useless,” plus, “Ah, this piece just might work,” were just some of the phrases Sam caught before the conveyor belt behind the work table began humming.

Sam heard a clanging sound come from somewhere far away. A loud thud followed it almost like something heavy had fallen over.

“What’s going—”

Sam’s words were cut out by the sound of the conveyor belt coming to life, with the belt itself moving in the worktable's direction. Soon enough, he saw the thick black case the conveyor belt was dragging toward them.

“Ah, here we are,” Mr. Moonday said as he lifted the case off the belt and dropped it gingerly onto the metal worktable. He popped the case’s locks open and raised its top half up. “I believe this is exactly what you requested, a suit that offers an excellent blend of survivability and functionality.”

Inside the case was a dark blue, full-body suit made of a light-looking fabric. It had a bronze chest plate attached to its top half with thick pads covering the shoulders, elbows, and knees.

Sam heard a disembodied whistle and assumed it had belonged to Chiron.

That doesn’t look half-bad, kid, the master said.

Sam nodded, his own jaw had dropped slightly at the sight of the suit inside the case. He could almost see himself wearing it and looking like a proper hero.

“Man,” Sam's hand reached out for it, “I've got to get me one of these.”