The OK Team 2 (17 page)

G
rl-Stars

That's who we are

Girls and stars

Yes we are!

Her-oes!

And we're girls

We like to fly

And we like to twirl!

It's as bad as I remembered it – which was very bad indeed. The last thing I want is that stupid song stuck in my head so I look for a couch as far away from them as possible. I choose one near the TV, which beams Channel 78737 all day, unless the footy's on. We Heroes love our footy.

I'm so engrossed in a story from Scotland, where Super McAngus has teamed up with the Loch Ness Monster to thwart a gang of poachers at Loch Ness, that I don't notice the wind rising dramatically outside the café. When I look away from the TV, Cyclone Tracy is standing right in front of me.

‘Hi, Focus,' she says. ‘Mind if I sit down?'

‘Um, sure. Yeah, if you'd like. No problem. It's totally up to you. That's fine. Yep, good. Be my guest. You know that you don't have to. But if you'd like, that would be fine. By me,' I say.

Yep, Mr Cool. Needless to say, I'm halfway to a fine mist by the time she actually sits.

Trying to look casual, I lean back and glance over at the G
rl-Stars' table. Tomorrow Girl has her head in her hands and is rocking. The others are looking confused, as though they're not sure if this is one of those strange dance moves they should be following or, alternatively, she's in pain. Weird. I pull my attention back to Cyclone Tracy who sits and sips on a Super Shake.

‘So how's the OK Team going? Is it true that you're involved in a Knight-Hood Pact with Bushranger?'

‘Um, sort of. Actually, yes.'

‘Why on Earth would a Hero agree to a Pact?' she asks, wide eyed. ‘Did he attack your family?'

‘No. He insulted me. He told me to come back when I was ready to play with the grown-ups and I got mad.'

‘You're kidding, right?'

‘Yeah, of course I am.' I laugh a little too loudly. ‘Hey, where did all these flies come from?'

Swarms of flies fill the air and bounce off the windows. Heroes everywhere wave gloves, wings, shields, force fields and tentacles in front of faces and masks, trying to ward off the insects.

‘Oh, blow. I hate it when Bug Man turns up with his army,' Cyclone Tracy says.

I turn into a cloud so the flies pass straight through me, but then I have to become solid again in a hurry as Tracy cooks up a southerly breeze to send the flies spiralling to the other end of the room.

Bug-free, we sit sipping our shakes and my heart is pounding. Do I dare? Cyclone Tracy is at least two years older than me and an accomplished Hero. What if I ask her out and she just laughs at me.

‘Tracy,' I say. My heart feels like it's about to go through my ribcage, I'm so nervous.

‘Yes?' she asks, and I'm trying to read her face. There's a slight grin, a touch of curiosity.

And that's when Tomorrow Girl arrives, breathless, at our couch.

‘Focus, we need to talk. Right now.'

‘Um, I'm kind of busy, Tomorrow Girl.'

‘Focus, this is important.'

‘I'll bet it is. Did Princess Pinkstar break a fingernail?

Bye.'

‘Focus!'

‘Tomorrow Girl, not now!'

She leans in and I've never seen her look so serious. She looks more like a grown Hero than Cannonball's little sister.

‘I know where he is and what's he's planning,' she says.

‘What?'

‘I know where HE is and what HE'S planning and it's not good.'

‘Tomorrow Girl,' I hiss. ‘I haven't got time for this. Go away.'

She shoves a piece of paper into my hand. ‘Fine. Be like that. I wrote it down. No need to thank me, fearless leader.'

And she stalks off.

I don't even look at the paper, just jam it into a hidden pocket in my cape and smile weakly to Cyclone Tracy who has watched all this with a raised eyebrow. ‘She used to be in my team,' I explain. ‘Cannonball's sister . . . wants to play with the big boys.'

‘Uh-huh. Are you one of the big boys, Focus?' Tracy says, again with that mischievous grin.

‘Um, on a good day,' I stammer.

‘You had something you wanted to ask me?' She's still smiling. I can feel my visibility scrambling.

‘Um, I was wondering if, well, depending on how busy you –' ‘Hey, isn't that a friend of yours?'

‘What?' I ask, scanning around the café, but she's looking at the TV screen.

There's a picture of Golden Boy behind the newsreader on Channel 78737.

‘Oh yeah, he is,' I say casually. ‘You know, we're pretty tight.'

‘Macklin, can you turn up the volume please?' Cyclone Tracy yells to the café owner.

‘Sure,' says the guy behind the counter and hits a remote.

SUPER NEWSREADER:

– olden Boy told Channel 78737 the Australian Federation of Hero Types is increasingly concerned . . .

The screen cuts to Golden boy with a microphone in front of him.

GOLDEN BOY:
It's very serious. This is the fourth time Southern Cross has collapsed and we now have documented evidence that Bushranger is behind it. This Villain has got to be stopped and fast.

SUPER NEWSREADER:
Today's incident happened when Southern Cross swooped in to protect a lowly ranked group of Heroes who found themselves up against Bushranger, an active Category 2 Villain who is believed to be S.T.O.M.P-powered to at least a Category 6.

The screen changes to vision of one of the G
rl-Stars, chewing gum and with her arms folded across her chest, as the Super reporter interviews her.

PRINCESS PINKSTAR:
It was, like, so unfair. We were, like, totally midway through a choreographed pre-battle dance routine, only moments before we were going to, like, move into our synchronised battle positions, when this guy in a big ugly, very unfashionable helmet just, like, totally kicks Tomorrow Girl in the back and she totally falls over.

The camera cuts to Tomorrow Girl who is looking quite serious.

TOMORROW GIRL:
The next thing I know, I'm lying on the ground, hurting, but then Southern Cross arrives to save the day and we gave him a big G
rl-Stars cheer. But, uh oh, the Bushranger pulls out a shiny star and whacks him with it – hard. Southern Cross fell like a stone. It was awful.

The screen shows a CCTV shot of Southern Cross buckling to his knees as Bushranger stabs him then runs from the scene. Golden Boy fills the screen again.

GOLDEN BOY:
We've taken Southern Cross to a secret medical location where he remains in a serious but stable condition. I am very concerned that this is getting out of hand and I am helpless against this particular Villain because one foolish young Hero committed to a Knight-Hood Pact. We're running out of time. I've already made my views clear to the young Hero in question. If this isn't settled fast, we're going to have to de-cape the Hero and sort Bushranger out. Southern Cross's health is too important to sit on our gloves and do nothing.

SUPER NEWSREADER:
In breaking news, Bushranger has announced he intends to keep attacking Southern Cross unless the AFHT meet his demands that the entire city of Melbourne be handed over to him to rule.

The screen changes to home-video quality vision showing Bushranger with trees swaying in time behind him.

BUSHRANGER:
I will rule the world. And the only thing standing between me and absolute power is that puny little Blur-boy, Focus.

The screen cuts back to the Super Newsreader.

SUPER NEWSREADER:
Focus is the leader of the ill-fated OK Team, but has not yet been found for comment on today's developments. Bushranger has given city authorities until tomorrow at 12 noon, or he says Southern Cross dies. More on that story as it comes to hand.

In other news, Noolwang, a Super Frongle –

The café owner turns the sound back down and Cyclone Tracy and I stare at one another.

‘Focus, this is terrible.'

I'm on my feet and my visibility is all over the place.

‘I have to go.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘Find my Team. Find Bushranger. Stop him.'

‘How are
you
going to stop
him
?'

I'm honest with her. ‘I have no clue.'

‘Do you know where he is?'

‘Nope. Maybe Golden Boy can help.'

‘I think Golden Boy made it pretty clear where he stands,' Tracy says. ‘Maybe you
should
stand down and let him sort this out, Focus.'

‘Be de-caped? End my career as a Superhero?'

‘This isn't about you anymore, Focus. It's about Southern Cross's life.'

‘There has to be a way. I don't like Southern Cross being in danger, but I'm sorry, Tracy. I can't be de-caped. I can't go back to life as a non-Hero. Did you hear that newsreader say “the ill-fated OK Team”?'

‘I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it,' she says, not meeting my eyes. Then she stands too. ‘Listen, why don't I consult the AFHT about how this can work. You get your Team together.'

‘Okay,' I say. I'm in a daze. ‘See ya.'

Cyclone Tracy is gone and I barely notice.

I sit again, with my head in my hands. What if I can't beat this S.T.O.M.P.-pumped baddie? What if Southern Cross dies because of me? How is Bushranger doing this to Southern Cross anyway?

There is a POP! next to me and a large cushion turns into a tall, handsome youth in a rainbow mask.

‘Switchy! How long have you been here?'

‘Long enough that I heard you almost ask Cyclone Tracy on a date!' I blush and become even more blurry. ‘That doesn't matter. You heard the news report. Switchy, you've got to help me!'

‘I don't know if I can help because of your Pact,' he says. ‘Anyway, you don't need me.'

‘We don't
need
you? Are you crazy? You're five times more powerful than all of us put together.'