The OK Team 2 (12 page)

‘Um, yeah,' says Torch, looking uncomfortable. ‘It's a very cool design of my finger shooting flame. Unfortunately I'm wearing sleeves today or I'd show it to you.'

‘I've heard it's quite something,' says Southern Cross, straight-faced, and then he strides away.

‘I really need help with the Hero media on this one, but Kyle won't return my calls,' says Cannonball.

‘You'll be right, Popgun,' says Torch, putting an arm around Cannonball's slumped shoulders. ‘An inquiry will just be for appearance's sake. As a gesture for the head honchos in Gotham and for Channel 78737 to beam out, showing the incident has been dealt with. It will blow over.'

Blow over. I can't help myself and glance over at Cyclone Tracy's table. She's looking straight at me, and smiling. Poom! I involuntarily turn into a cloud as the others stand up.

‘Oops,' says Logi-Gal, lurching backwards as though she's stepped in something icky. ‘Sorry Pancake Pete. I didn't see you down there.'

CHAPTER 12
A DEATH IN THE FAMILY

T
he Northland Shopping Centre, long after closing time.

The OK Team approaches the multi-level car park.

‘What's the G.O.?' asks Torch, strutting.

‘The what?'

‘The G.O.'

‘Game Operation?' asks Cannonball.

‘Gold Orders?' asks Logi-Gal.

‘Good Oil?' I ask.

‘Game On?' suggests The Gamer.

Torch looks uncomfortable. ‘Actually, I just meant “What's the go?”'

‘Then say that, Candle Head,' says Cannonball. ‘Geez, where are you from? Los Angeles?'

‘If that's half a world from you, then I wish I was,' snarls Torch.

‘Ah the bickering begins – things have certainly returned to normal around here,' says Logi-Gal.

‘Children,' I say, to break the tension. ‘There are bad guys up ahead. Any chance we could tune in?'

‘Sure, what's the G.O.?' Torch gives Cannonball a defiant stare as he says it.

‘I have N.O. idea,' Cannonball sneers right back at him.

‘Logi-Gal, give us an update,' I say.

‘The
go
is that we're up against some familiar faces,' Logi-Gal says. ‘Our friend, Bushranger and his team. All still claiming to be Category 1 or 2 so we should be more than equipped to handle them. In fact, Torch, you can't use open flame on them and Cannonball, watch your strength.'

‘I'm not hitting anybody,' Cannonball says.

‘Hang on a second,' I say. ‘We've discussed this. Bushranger was too strong last time. His gang members were so-so, but Bushranger was dangerous beyond Catergory 2.'

Torch shrugs. ‘Not in the middle of a shopping centre car park. What's he going to attack us with? Pot plants?'

‘Good point, Torch,' I say. ‘Even so, they did get the better of us last time, so be on your game. Let's make sure we nail these losers, and fast. Let's be sharp and dazzle them with the OK Team's collective might.'

The others stare at me, except Cannonball who is looking at the sky. ‘Or we could sit back and just watch as he takes them out,' he says, pointing as Southern Cross soars into the car park and lands Heroically on the far side of the parking bays.

‘He might need help,' I say weakly, wondering why we even bother. I put out my silver glove. ‘I'm okay!'

Hands and gloves meet mine. ‘You're okay!' they reply.

‘WE'RE OKAY!'

Cannonball says, ‘I'm still not going to hit anyone. As long as we're clear on that.'

‘With the Cross in the house, Cannonball, you shouldn't need to.'

And Cannonball flies beside us as we run deeper into the car park.

There are a couple of industrial bins near the entrance to the shops and a few cars parked here and there, but mostly it's a vast, empty concrete cavern with a low roof and a few cracks in the tarmac.

Southern Cross stands, hands on hips. Facing him is a small monkey.

‘Welcome OK Team,' he says. ‘I think I can handle it.'

The monkey scratches under an armpit.

‘Monkey Two Point Oh!' says Torch.

Southern Cross walks slowly towards the monkey until he is only a few metres away. He crouches. ‘Hello little fella,' he says in a soft soothing voice as though he's talking to a baby. ‘That's an unusual name you have. Isn't that an unusual name? Who's got an unusual name then? Who's a clever monkey? Coochie coochie coo.'

‘Eep,' says the monkey. ‘Ook!'

‘2.0 usually means an upgrade in computer software,' says Logi-Gal.

‘How do you upgrade a monkey?' I ask, shaking my head.

‘With S.T.O.M.P.,' says The Gamer.

The monkey stands on his back legs and bobs up and down, tail floating behind him.

‘Ook,' he says again.

‘Does anybody speak monkey?' I ask.

The Gamer says, ‘Only on certain levels if I've won the Gantulese Translating Shield.'

‘Of course,' I say through clenched teeth. ‘Is that now?'

‘No,' he says.

Southern Cross stands up and shrugs. ‘Well, let's just deliver this little guy to the RSPCA so we can get on with fighting real crime.'

He takes a step towards the monkey and it shrieks – a high-pitched monkey squeal that becomes deeper and angrier and louder. Then Monkey 2.0 is growing. And growing and growing. And changing from a harmless little monkey into an enormous gorilla. And he keeps growing so that soon we're worried we're about to take on King Kong in his prime.

Once the gorilla is about four metres high, he lazily swings a long arm and sends Southern Cross crashing into a van near the car park entrance, one hundred metres away. One of Melbourne's greatest Heroes, he's immediately back on his feet and ready to launch a counter-strike, right up until he puts a glove to his head and falls as his knees buckle.

‘Southern Cross?' I yell.

‘Can't seem to –' he says groggily and then collapses face forward onto the concrete. We all stare at the gorilla-sized Monkey 2.0 – and I feel a flutter of fear.

‘Category 2 Villain, huh? I think we know what the upgrade is,' Torch says. He's preparing to launch an attack and fails to see a rubbish bin hurtling through the air towards him.

‘Torch, duck!' I yell.

Torch shoots a flame at the bin, knocking it off its path. It bounces away.

There are too many things happening at once. ‘Gamer, keep an eye on the gorilla,' I yell.

But the gorilla is too fast. It grabs Logi-Gal who screams as she is tucked under the gorilla's arm. With his free hand, the upgraded Monkey 2.0 climbs a ladder, heading for the roof.

I'm horrified, but The Gamer's face is pure joy.

‘This is my moment!' he says. ‘It's a dream come true. All I need now is for him to start throwing barrels.'

‘What are you talking about?' I ask. ‘This is a nightmare. Logi-Gal's in trouble!'

‘Don't worry. Logi-Gal will be fine. Leave the ape to me,' he says, still with that strange grin, and he climbs the ladder and disappears out of sight.

I take a deep breath. ‘Torch, where did the bin come from?'

We both peer into the gloom of the car park. A couple of bays away is a kid wearing a blue bandana and a deep blue bodysuit, with a white arrow on the chest. He's pointing at another bin, guiding it through the air.

‘Hey,' I yell to Torch. ‘That's the kid from the footy match, the one who pointed the ball through the goals!'

Torch approaches him, keeping a wary eye on the floating bin. ‘My name is Torch. I'm a Level D Hero, Third Grade. Who are you and what is your level?'

The kid levitates the new bin through the air. ‘My name is Directo and I'm new to Bushranger's gang. I'm Category 1.'

‘In that case I can't shoot my flame directly at you. And I urge you to surrender because if you're Category 1, you can't lift anything heavier than that bin. Stop now, and you won't get hurt.'

‘I'll keep that in mind,' says Directo, and flicks his hand to send the bin shooting, lightning fast, at Torch. Liquid spills from it and we realise the bin is completely full of water. Torch gets out of the way just in time.

‘Hey!' yells Torch, outraged.

Directo lifts another bin and prepares to throw it at me, but I'm distracted by what appears to be a big black cat. In fact, it definitely is a panther – one of my greatest secret fears! – standing a metre high and with very long and razor-sharp teeth. He growls and stalks towards me.

‘Cannonball, where are you?' I yell.

‘Sort of busy,' I hear from above. I look up and my friend is a red and black blur in a high-speed dog fight with a yellow opponent who is streaking like a shooting star between the car park pylons.

I become invisible and tiptoe fast to my right to escape the panther. It sniffs the air, trying to follow my scent. Directo's bin slams into the ground where I had been and the panther leaps it, snarling and hissing as water gushes onto the ground.

Southern Cross is finally back on his feet, but he's doubled over, holding his stomach as if trying to stop his appendix from bursting.

‘Are you okay?' I yell.

‘Focus. I can't help you,' he says.

‘What do you mean? We need you.'

‘The Knight-Hood Pact. You have to face Bushranger alone.'

‘He's not even here.'

‘Yes, he is. I wasn't knocked out by that over-sized monkey. Bushranger's nearby because my strength is draining. I can't stay or I'll faint.'

This isn't making any sense, but there's no time for debate. Southern Cross rises wonkily into the sky and then flies off. I can't see Bushranger anywhere.

Meanwhile, Cannonball screeches to a halt and Swoop Swoop does too, hovering twenty metres away. Cannonball is panting. ‘Swoop Swoop flies like a Category 6er. I can't keep up. No way.'

‘She's supposed to be Category 2,' I say, turning solid.

‘It sucks to be you,' says Blink who appears right in front of us, and punches me squarely in the nose. Then he's gone.

I reel back, holding my face. ‘Where did he come from?'

‘Here,' says the Villain again. Right in my face.

Then he's gone again.

Then he's back. Wop! I cop another blow to the nose. My eyes are streaming tears.

‘You're not supposed to be this good,' I yell, crouching in pain.

‘Just lucky, I guess,' says Blink, right there again. I turn invisible a nano-second before a third blow lands.

He's gone again. He can turn invisible faster than I can. I wax in and out of focus with envy and stress.

Morphul is now in the shape of an old man, wearing an orange, red and yellow lycra outfit and I realise he's become Old Man Torch, the greatest of the Torches and our Torch's grandpa.

‘I'm much better than you'll ever be, Candle-Boy,' he says to our Torch.

‘No!' Torch yells. ‘I can be a mighty Torch! I can! I can be an inferno.'

‘You're crap. You're a disgrace to the name!' says Morphul as Papa Torch, and then completely flames up his body. He shoots a stream of fire straight at our Torch, who ducks. Even in the fading light from the flame, it's easy to read the haunted expression on Torch's face.

I'm invisible and running at full speed. I have to do something fast. As I run, I glance over my shoulder and have a moment of pleasure when Blink reappears where I had been a moment ago, expecting me to be in punching range.

I turn solid just as I slam into Morphul and wince as poor Papa Torch lands hard, with a nasty ooph sound.

‘I almost had him,' says Torch.

‘Yep, I was just helping out. We're a Team after all,' I say. ‘You know you're OK, Torch. Don't let him get to you. You'll be making your family proud in no time.'

Torch looks uncertain, but flames up his finger. ‘Where did Directo – ?'

Blink appears behind Torch and kicks him in the back. Even as I turn, he's gone. I switch back to invisible and he's nowhere to be seen. How do we fight when neither of us can see the other guy?

I'm safe as long as I stay out of focus, so I check on Cannonball. Swoop Swoop is flying rings around him, moving twice as fast and able to turn sharply in the air. Cannonball eventually stops chasing and just hovers, chest heaving as though he's run a marathon.

Back on his feet, Torch shoots jets of flame in front of Swoop Swoop, but she ducks and dives and dodges them effortlessly.

It's then I see the large man in the giant helmet. He enters the car park from the far end. He's carrying something very shiny in his right hand.

‘Bushranger!' I shout.

‘Hello, Pact-boy. You ready to die yet?' he says. He has a mouth hole in his helmet, which is an improvement. At least I can understand him.

‘Geez, you know how to make friends, don't you?' I say, sounding braver than I feel. I become a cloud and drift to Bushranger's left, hoping to launch a sneak attack. ‘Anyway, how are you going to attack me?' I ask. ‘There are no trees here.'