The OK Team (8 page)

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Authors: Nick Place

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BOOK: The OK Team
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I straighten my silver cape (now with black backing), run a hand through my mess of hair, adjust my mask and make sure the F is straight and black against my silver T-shirt. I'm also now wearing silver-sprayed cargo pants. I figured so many pockets mean I won't need a bulky utility belt and Hero officials can't frown about the jeans thing. I'm still in silver-painted Dunlop Volley shoes, but hopefully nobody will notice. I want to look good for this meeting. I creep further into the power plant, looking for Heroes.

Deep in the building, in a massive area with two giant turbines that have obviously stood still for many years, a circle of seats is assembled.

A superhero is sitting on one of the seats, shuffling through notes and obviously in charge. She has long, flowing, very dark hair, and I'm most impressed to see she has what appear to be actual wings – like a bird's wings, but huge and dark brown. They flap slowly behind her, feathers bristling, as she reads. She takes out a pen and notes something in the margin of a page.

Four seats are vacant. The rest support nervous looking Heroes, wearing all sorts of colours and trying not to appear obvious as they check out one another's costumes. There is a girl who looks to be about eighteen years old, with three dots on her chest. Two middle-aged men are wearing matching black-and-white checked costumes. A guy who I'd guess is in his mid-twenties is wearing all purple. And I'm most astonished to see a kid about my age. This kid is short and stocky and wearing a black bodysuit that looks to be baggy around the knees and shoulders, with a red circle with yellow flames on the front. He is also wearing red shorts, red boots with yellow trim that looks painted on, and he is sporting a big black crash helmet, like skateboarders might wear. A large bruise covers most of his cheek.

I take the seat next to him and sneak a sideways glance at his outfit. He's sneaking a glance at mine.

‘Hi,' I say.

‘Hi,' says the kid.

‘Nasty bruise.'

‘Pardon?'

‘I said that bruise looks nasty. On your cheek. Are you OK?'

‘Oh, yeah, I'm as happy as a bowl of water,' the kid says.

Eventually I have to ask, ‘Is that happy?'

‘Yeah, really happy,' he says, like I'm an idiot. Then reaches up to touch his face and winces in pain.

‘Did you get the bruise fighting a super-villain?'

The kid shifts in his seat. ‘Actually, I just got it. I smacked into the chimney arriving here.'

‘Oh, that was you!' I extend a silver glove. ‘I'm Ha – I mean, my name is Focus.'

The kid reluctantly shakes hands. ‘Cannonball. Hi.'

We sit for a moment. I find myself wondering awkwardly what Heroes talk about.

Cannonball saves me by asking, ‘So, you been a Hero for long?'

I think about lying but what would be the point? ‘Actually, no. I only found out about a week ago. You?'

‘Five weeks. Before that, I thought I was just a freak!'

‘You did?' I can feel the relief flood through my body.

‘I thought it was just me.'

Cannonball grins. ‘I think everyone feels that way. That's why we're here, huh?'

And he's right. When the Bird opens the meeting, she explains that Heroes Anonymous is a non-judgemental forum for new Heroes: those who have just admitted they have powers or are having trouble admitting to being super people.

The two guys in black and white checks turn out to be the Crypto Twins – identical brothers where one has the power of only being able to talk in cryptic crossword puzzle clues, while his brother's power is that he's the only one who can understand him.

‘Lo! The vulture lands messily, devouring a cross,' says one.

The Bird looks at his brother, an eyebrow raised.

‘My brother says we are happy to discover we have powers but we're unsure how to use them,' he translates.

‘It's a common issue for Heroes,' the Bird nods. ‘It's one thing to discover you have powers; it is a whole different issue working out how, or even whether, to fight crime with those powers.'

‘The church eats its mice,' announces the first Crypto Twin, nodding.

‘Dot dot dot dash dash dash,' suddenly says the teenage girl with the dots on her chest. ‘Dot dash dot. Dot dash dash dash dot dot.'

The Bird nods in encouragement and the girl, looking nervously at the other Heroes, finishes with, ‘Dash dot dot dash dot dash dash dash dot dot dot dash.'

Me and Cannonball give each other looks. Cannonball shrugs.

‘Miss Morse is right,' the Bird says. ‘It can feel lonely being a Hero. What do you think, Berry Boy?'

The purple guy gulps. ‘I've spent so long being considered a freak, I'm having trouble coming to terms with my power, which is that anything I cook ends up tasting like boysenberry.'

‘Yet here we are, embracing our powers and our Hero selves,' says the Bird, spreading her wings for emphasis.

‘Cannonball, that's a fine uniform you're wearing.'

Cannonball blushes. ‘Thanks. I think it's even better than a crab. The lady at the superhero supply store made it for me. I chose the colour but she stitched it up.' He grabs a handful of material near his shoulder and shows how it bunches up in his hand. ‘She made it with room for me to grow into, so it's a little loose.'

‘That's fine,' says the Bird. ‘You have years to become comfortable – with your costume and with who you are.'

Looking down at the clipboard where we had all written our names, she says, ‘Focus, why are you here?'

I sit for a moment before I remember that she is talking to me. This dual-name thing is harder than you'd think, at least at first.

‘Oh, um, sorry,' I say. ‘Well, I'm only just getting started and I guess I wanted to be among some other Heroes and learn stuff.'

The Bird nods and gazes steadily at me, as I blur and unblur under her gaze. ‘And have you tried any Heroic acts yet, Focus?'

‘Not really. I went to the Car Crash thing in the car park but I was clueless. Unless HeroTV tells me, I don't know how to find criminals in action and, to be honest, I don't think I'd know what to do if I did.'

‘Many Heroes team up when they're new to this life,' the Bird says. ‘It can be a lot easier to work as a team, rather than go up against bad guys or attempt a rescue all by yourself. At least until you get your confidence.'

‘How do you form a team?' Berry Boy asks.

The Bird shrugs. ‘There's a classified section on herohints. com. You can advertise there. Or you can just network with Heroes you meet along the way. Speaking of which, let's break for coffee and then we'll do some training.'

‘Beware the dog! It sings at Christmas!'

We all stare at the Crypto Twins.

‘My brother says that's a great idea, he's thirsty,' explains the other Crypto.

‘Boy, those two are going to confuse crooks into surrendering,' Cannonball whispers. ‘They're as weird as a chimney.'

I'm pretty sure by now that Cannonball's power
isn't
making comparisons.

We all stand. The Crypto Brothers yabber at one another in their own language while Miss Morse heads straight for the coffee table. Berry Boy has beaten her there, already making himself a cup of tea, which he sips before saying to the Bird, ‘Hmm, your tea tastes like boysenberry.'

Cannonball and I get biscuits and glasses of milk.

I say, ‘Can I ask you something?'

‘Sure.'

‘What's your power?'

‘My power?'

‘Yeah, what do you do?'

Cannonball shrugs a bit too casually. ‘Oh, you know, I can fly.'

I can't keep the admiration out of my voice. ‘You can fly? That's awesome!'

‘Yeah, well, you know, it's pretty cool.'

‘I can't imagine anything better than flying.' My brain is ticking off all my favourite flying Heroes, scattered around my bedroom walls.

‘It's not as great as you'd think,' Cannonball admits, touching the bruise on his cheek with a finger. ‘And you, Focus? Is your power, you know . . .' He nods at the way I'm losing and gaining sharpness randomly.

‘Yep, for what it's worth. So far, all I know is that if I get a fright I fall through walls.'

Cannonball laughs. ‘Dude, at least you've got room for improvement.'

I find myself smiling. ‘I sure have.'

Training turns out to be a whole new world of humiliation for me. The Bird takes us through some basic self-defence techniques and I realise I barely know how to throw a punch. I learn how to position my fist so it isn't sideways, which could lead to a broken wrist if I land a punch wrongly. I have no idea how to make a left jab roll into a right jab, and it turns out that you need to keep one foot behind you for balance, so that if somebody shoves you, you don't fall flat on your bum. I find this out the hard way with one decent shove from Berry Boy in a rare moment when I'm solid enough to shove. Everybody laughs.

‘Don't worry,' the Bird says kindly, trying not to notice that my shaking hand passes straight through the hand she is offering to help me get back on my feet. ‘It's your first day. It will become easier. Just don't go up against the bad guys yet. You need to train.'

CHAPTER 11
THE ALLEY OF DEATH

I
'm so depressed that I'm practically a cloud again. I fall easily through the solid wall onto the street and land on my hands and knees in the alley at the back of the power station.

‘Well, what have we here? Where did you come from, little freak?'

I look up and I'm filled with panic. Stepping out from behind a collection of maybe a dozen big green wheely bins is a crazy-looking man, with a long, tangled beard and a nasty look in his eye. Dressed in a tattered coat and a beanie holding back his lank, grey hair, the guy has scars on both cheeks and a tattoo of a Frankenstein bolt on the side of his neck. He might be the most frightening person I have ever seen – including some of my school teachers.

I stand and try to look Heroic. In fact, I suspect I just zap helplessly in and out of visibility. The man giggles – a manic, high-pitched giggle.

‘Well, you don't seem to know whether you're here or not, little fella. The truth is, you'll wish you weren't, because I like the look of that silver cape thing you're wearing. I reckon that might make a good blanket. Hand it over, kid.'

I'm terrified. All my imagined first encounters with dangerous types had them cowering in the wake of my Heroic presence, not the other way around. But I'm also not happy about the idea of handing over my cape. That would be too humiliating.

I try to puff out my chest. I try to stop my focus wavering so wildly.

‘Stay back and I won't hurt you,' I say, and wince at how high-pitched and squeaky my voice sounds.

The thug stares at me. And then throws his head back and laughs and laughs. I die a little inside.

‘You won't hurt
me
?' he says, stepping towards me. ‘
You
won't hurt
me
! Well, that's good to know. Unfortunately, I can't make the same promise.'

He takes another ominous step forward and produces a steel bar from behind his back.

‘In fact, I think there's a very good chance I will hurt you,' he says.

‘I'm an Entry Level Hero, Grade Two,' I squeak miserably, taking a step backwards. ‘You're not allowed to use weapons.'

The man giggles his high-pitched giggle again in the worst way. ‘Yeah, that's what they say. But they're not here, are they?'

I gasp and take another step backwards, and that's what saves me. My heel catches on something sharp, I stumble backwards and suddenly find myself on the other side of the wall, back inside the power station, a life-saving metre of brick between me and the crazy guy.

What really confuses me is the sound from the other side of the wall. It's like an urgent whistling with a kind of buzz behind it. It sounds far away but then very close, all in a rush. It finishes with a huge crash, the sound of rubbish bins bouncing in all directions, and then silence.

I sit there, frozen, panting with fear. I listen hard and finally I hear a voice on the other side of the wall say, ‘Oops.'

I'm so shaken by the attack that falling back through the wall one more time is a no-brainer. With my shattered nerves, I wonder if I will ever be vaguely solid again.

A small figure in a baggy black bodysuit, red boots and a big black helmet is standing in the middle of the dark alley. Scattered bins are lying everywhere, and there, in the middle of them, the crazy guy is unconscious, the steel bar lying harmlessly beside his right hand.

‘Cannonball! You saved me!'

‘I did? I mean, yeah, I did!'

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