The OK Team (7 page)

‘Of course.'

‘Thank you. All right, I'm setting up a hero haze,' he says, pushing a button on his golden glove. A blur appears outside the car park in all directions. ‘Incidentally, have you considered paying him the money?'

The PR man splutters. ‘The forty million? Do you think the city is really in danger?'

Golden Boy somehow sparkles even though it is a dark night. ‘It would be if I wasn't here, yes.'

The Chief of Police coughs. ‘Actually, Golden Boy, there are some other Heroes here as well.'

Golden Boy hasn't even noticed us, standing off to the side of all this.

‘There are? Who?'

‘I'm, err, not familiar with them, if you get my drift.'

‘Oh dear.'

‘Yeah, exactly.'

Suddenly, from the other side of the car park, a deep voice yells, ‘Where's my money?'

There is a whistling noise and a Landcruiser shatters into metal jigsaw pieces metres from Golden Boy's head.

‘Stall him,' Golden Boy says.

‘Stall him?' The Chief of Police takes off her hat and scratches her head. ‘How?'

‘I don't know. Tell him the ATM is broken.'

And now Golden Boy comes over to us, leaving the Chief and the PR guy behind. I find myself face to face with Golden Boy for the first time. My greatest Hero. I'm numb with happiness. This is a dream come true.

‘OK, you little brat, listen up and listen good,' he says harshly. ‘Stay out of my way or I'll hurt you more than Car Crash ever could. Got it?'

‘Huh?' I say stupidly.

‘What level are you, kid?'

My voice sounds squeaky. ‘Entry Level, Grade Two.'

‘Then you should be home, tucked up in bed with your teddy bear, not here getting in my way.'

I can't even speak.

‘Nothing annoys me more than wannabe Heroes getting in the way of us real Heroes. You only make the job harder.'

He looks at me, so blurred now in surprise and shock that I'm more cloud than boy. ‘Are you sure that isn't just a nasty skin condition?'

‘Golden Boy, I've always thought you'd be . . .'

‘Brilliant? Yeah, I am, which is why I don't want nappywearing try-hards like you cramping my style.'

With that, he turns to the other Heroes, and I'm left trying not to cry.

The two youths are still sitting together, slumped so that their heads are almost jammed between the wall and the ground. Golden Boy could be forgiven for wondering if they've been knocked out. The other figure waves wildly at him and jumps up and down as Golden Boy approaches.

Golden Boy crosses his arms. ‘Evening, Heroes. Who are you lot then?'

The Hero who is standing rushes up to Golden Boy and enthusiastically shakes his hand. ‘Hi there, Golden Boy.

Great to meet you, I mean
really
great to meet you! I'm Prince Perky!'

Golden Boy looks at his own golden-gloved hand as though it might be contaminated. ‘You have powers?'

‘Oh yes, sir! I'm only a Level F Hero but boy, I think even that's fantastic. It must be terrific being a Level Triple A like you are, Golden Boy.' Prince Perky cocks his head and looks serious. ‘Is your life just fabulous?'

Golden Boy sighs and turns to the two Heroes slumped against the wall. They look at him with half-asleep eyes from under over-long fringes. Their uniforms are pure black but filthy with dirt, and one has a nose stud. They haven't moved since I got here.

Golden Boy says, ‘And I'm dying to know who you two are.'

‘Like, care factor zero about what you think, overachiever. We're the Slacker Bros, dude.'

He pronounces ‘bros' like you'd say ‘goes'.

‘You're Heroes?'

‘Whatever,' says one.

The other sighs deeply. ‘Yeah, like Level G means anything anyway.'

It's then I realise their slouched pose would be perfect for if you were leaning against a couch, instead of a car park wall. Their arms are bent at the elbow and their hands are unconsciously still in position to hold a Playstation or Xbox control.

‘So were you guys planning to get up and sort out this super-villain any time soon?' Golden Boy asks.

One of the Slacker Bros shifts slightly, so he can scratch his butt. ‘The car vandal guy?' He sniffs. ‘Oh yeah . . . I guess . . . Eventually.'

‘Yeah, we'll get to it,' says the other.

‘When exactly?' asks Golden Boy.

‘. . . Later.'

‘I think everything is going to work out fine!' It's Prince Perky. ‘I really think that between all of us we can do something really positive and really successful.'

‘I have another idea,' Golden Boy says. ‘You four losers don't move, so you don't get hurt.'

I'm stung by the word ‘losers'.

But Prince Perky is nodding so enthusiastically his head might fall off. ‘That is a BRILLIANT plan!'

The Slacker Bros stare at the golden Hero.

‘Whatever,' one finally manages.

I still can't speak, but Golden Boy doesn't care if I have anything to say anyway.

He steps out from behind our protective concrete wall and is greeted almost instantly by a flying Toyota sedan. He puts out a hand and stops it dead, and it crashes to the floor in front of him. Then he flies, actually flies, over it and I hear him say, ‘Car Crash, I am officially declaring myself to be a Level Triple A Hero. What is your level?'

‘Category 5, but that doesn't matter because we're not going to fight. They're going to pay.'

‘Wrong and wrong,' says Golden Boy's voice.

I hear a sharp slap of skin on skin, and then silence.

Golden Boy stalks back around the corner.

‘Over to you, Chief,' he says, and presses a button on his golden glove. The haze around us vanishes. ‘Hero haze lifted. We can all go home. Goodnight, gentlemen, Chief.'

‘Thank you, Golden Boy! You saved the city,' yells the PR man.

‘All part of the service. Remember, mum's the word.' He turns to us. ‘As for you lot, get a real job.' He walks back out to the alley and then takes off, vertically, with a faint whoosh.

We all watch the golden Heroic light fade in his wake.

‘That was just fantastic!' says Prince Perky.

‘Like, yawn,' replies a Slacker. car crash

I trudge home in my cheap costume. School starts in less than four hours. I really should try to sleep. I try to put Golden Boy's sneer out of my mind. But I can't.

HERO BEGINNER'S GUIDE
GETTING STARTED

So you charged off and tried to be a Hero.

Congratulations. You're now one of the approximately ninetyeight per cent of new Heroes who ignored our advice and charged out into the Hero world, without preparation or confidence. Of those ninety-eight per cent, maybe three or four Heroes each decade handle themselves well and arrive on the scene fully formed and ready for action. The chances are, if you're reading this, you're not one of them.

So we say again: hone your skills, build your confidence, confirm your costume and name. If your city has a ‘Heroes Anonymous' meeting, go along and meet other Heroes. Work together on your skills. And next time, pay attention when we tell you that the road you're taking is no picnic.

UNFRIENDLY FELLOW HEROES

New arrival Heroes may be surprised to occasionally meet established Heroes who are not particularly welcoming, or are even openly hostile. Usually this betrays a lack of self-confidence on the part of the unfriendly Hero. Don't take such unexpected abuse personally. We can almost guarantee that the Hero being nasty has personal issues to work out, or a deep-seated insecurity that makes him or her feel threatened by new Heroes arriving on the scene. It's just like everyday bullies who pick on other kids to hide their own inadequacies. The reality, sadly, is that there is no shortage of crime for all of us to fight, and that there is a place in the Hero world for everybody, of every level of grading, power and personality.

CHAPTER 10
HEROES ANONYMOUS

The next night, I decide to go to Heroes Anonymous. There's no doubt I have a lot to learn. ‘You're out again, Hazy dear?' says Mum, looking up from the TV.

‘Warhammer painting night, Mum. In at Games Workshop at Melbourne Central.'

‘But dear, it's Saturday night. Are you sure you should be wandering around in the city? Isn't it dangerous?'

‘I shouldn't be late and the tram stop is right outside Melbourne Central. I'll be fine.'

‘Leave the boy alone, Iris,' says Dad, looking out from behind the newspaper. ‘It's nice he's making some friends, even if they are nerds.'

‘Warhammer people are not nerds.' I feel compelled to stand up for my so-called friends, even though I made the whole Warhammer thing up. I've read magazines and cruised through Games Workshop. I could get into it. ‘Warhammer demands imagination and good skills at painting and other crafts.'

‘Says you. At least you're likely to meet people even stranger than you – and I say that supportively,' he adds hastily. ‘Did you know, Hazy, that there is a man in Kazakhstan who is reportedly able to remove all four fake limbs and roll the 100 metres in less than eleven seconds? That's almost Olympic time.'

‘Hush, Harold,' says Mum. ‘
The Bill
's about to start.' Before long, I'm in a dark alley in the city centre, near the corner of Spencer and Lonsdale streets, standing outside the enormous brick wall of a disused power station.

For a moment, I laugh. I think about how the counsellor and regular visitors to the Victorian Society for the Blurred would react if they could see me now. Because I'm going to a whole different meeting.

The abandoned station has stood here for years, derelict and forgotten, reportedly riddled with hazardous asbestos, a dangerous hideout for the city's homeless and desperate.

Ironically, directly across Lonsdale Street is the headquarters of the
Age
newspaper, one of Melbourne's two big morning papers. Yet the dozens of reporters who work at the paper have never once spotted the variety of people in colourful, strange costumes descending on the power station every Wednesday evening.

According to the Melbourne blog of
herohints.com
, every now and then one of the wild-haired crazy homeless people who live illegally in the power station storms into the newspaper's foyer telling ridiculous stories of having seen somebody fly through the air. The newspaper reporters apparently roll their eyes, shake their heads sadly and send the crazy type back onto the street. Because in the rational, switched-on world of the journalists, Heroes don't actually exist. Remember?

Which shows what they know.

I'm standing in this creepy dark alley when I hear something overhead. It's hard to tell in the dark but I think I see a black dot lurch across the sky and smack into the giant chimney of the power plant. Whatever it is slides down behind the massive wall, falling out of sight. I'm probably imagining it but I even think I hear a distant groan.

I've been trying to get into the power station for more than twenty minutes. Of course, being loaded with dangerous radioactive chemicals and other hazards, and having been closed down more than fifteen years before, the power station is surrounded by high walls and wire fences with barbed wire.

Heroes Anonymous, a self-help branch of the Australian Federation of Hero Types aimed specifically at new heroes, works on the theory that if you can't even get into an abandoned building, you have no right to be there anyway.
Herohints.com
has told me where I need to be and when, but that doesn't help me get past the fence.

In the end, pure luck solves my problem. I walk even further down the sinister alley, trying to find some kind of crack in the thick brick wall, when there is a crash and, by the time I swing around to see that it is only a rat jumping out of a rubbish bin, I've received such a fright that my body blurs to the point of invisibility and I fall clean through the wall.