by Nick Place
Meanwhile, Torch has crept up to the monkey, who watches him carefully.
‘Ook!’ says the monkey happily. Torch reaches out a finger for the monkey to sniff and the monkey bites it, hard.
‘Ouch! My flame finger too! Stupid monkey!’
Monkey 2.0 produces a banana and throws it at Torch’s face, hitting him right between the eyes.
Suddenly another figure emerges from the darkness. It’s tall and . . . kind of like a vampire. Then I realise it IS a vampire, with fangs and a big black cape.
‘A vampire!’ I yell as I become a cloud.
‘The name is Morphul,’ the vampire says. ‘I can morph into anything awful. I can become your worst nightmare.’
He is not a very convincing vampire, now I can see him more clearly. His teeth look plastic and his cape is shabby and worn.
‘Well, a vampire is only my second-worst nightmare,’ I say. ‘There’s this other one where I’m on a crowded train and I realise I’ve forgotten to put my pants on and –’ ‘Enough!’ says the vampire. ‘Prepare to become my next victim!’
But I’m already invisible and floating away to the vampire’s left. He looks around in surprise and creeps the other way. When Torch sees him he screams.
Suddenly, instead of a vampire, there is a fire hose pouring water straight at Torch, who runs fast to get away. And in the middle of a drought too. Talk about a socially irresponsible attack.
I hear a smack and swing around just as the tree branches finally knock out The Gamer, who wasn’t able to find any more power top-ups in the nearby weeds. Swoop Swoop flies off Cannonball’s shoulders then kicks him in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Logi-Gal is hiding behind a fence.
It’s up to me. I turn invisible and race up behind Monkey 2.0, scooping him up, dumping him in a rubbish bin and slamming down the lid before he can chomp into my now solid hands holding him.
‘Logi-Gal,’ I yell. ‘Make sure he doesn’t escape.’
She runs over to sit on the lid as I duck under a tree branch and give the Bushranger a solid whack to the stomach again, working on the theory that punching his helmet would probably hurt me more than it would hurt him.
The yellow flying girl swoops down at me, but I turn invisible again and jump sideways so Swoop Swoop only kicks air where I had been. Her flying is pretty wonky, and I grab her cape and yank hard, pulling her to the ground. She lands flat on her back and I hear the air rush out of her as she is winded.
Morphul, the vampire-fire hose, is still off chasing Torch somewhere in the darkness.
That leaves only Blink – and there he is, the kid in black again, appearing directly in front of me at the exact moment I turn visible. I don’t quite dissolve enough to completely avoid the punch, but I stay on my feet and see him reappear almost hidden behind a tree.
I’m a cloud as I drift towards his hiding place and there he is, peeking out from behind the trunk. Until he sees my cloud and disappears again, like I blinked and he was gone.
I’m so surprised that I stand there, more or less solid, and sure enough a tree branch swipes me hard across the head and I go down, ears ringing. As I get up the flying girl swoops down and knocks Logi-Gal off the bin, releasing the monkey and Torch returns dripping wet and flicking his finger ineffectively.
‘Shark!’ yells Cannonball as an actual shark swims through the air towards him. Morphul makes a pretty dodgy shark, but it’s enough to send a panicking Cannonball flying straight to the top of a tree, which belts him with its branches as the shark tries to swim higher in the air.
The Gamer is on all fours, shaking cobwebs from his head.
We’re being blitzed and I can feel panic rising within me as the Team falls apart.
But suddenly the wind rises dramatically. The Bushranger looks over my shoulder and yells something that is muffled by his helmet. The four members of Bushranger’s gang all back off. The wind is so strong that I can’t keep my balance and fall to my hands and knees, not daring to try and de-moleculise my body in this sort of gale. I might be blown in a million directions. I have to stay solid.
Bushranger stops, lifts his helmet. ‘Until next time! Remember our Pact, Blur-boy.’
Torch has finally dried out enough to shoot a burst of flame with both index fingers towards Blink, but he’s gone by the time the flames flare. Swoop Swoop scoops up Monkey 2.0 and lurches off into the night sky. The shark swims away as the bulky, helmeted figure of the Bushranger disappears into the dark gardens. A few of the trees wave their branches aggressively to block us from following them. I struggle to stay solid, my cape flapping and whipping across my back. Cyclone Tracy flies past me and stops in front of the tree defence. She lands gently on the ground and the wind dies down to a gentle breeze.
Cyclone Tracy is wearing a grey body-hugging costume with irregular lines swirling across the fabric, so she looks like a human cyclone, and if I wasn’t so freaked out by the Bushranger and his gang, I’d be seriously distracted. Somehow her long blonde hair is perfect, despite the windy chaos she has been generating.
‘Focus! OK Team! What’s going on?’
‘They were supposed to be Category 2!’ I say, panting.
‘Category 2,’ she frowns. ‘But they should be easybeats.’
‘Mostly they were, but they put up a much better fight than we expected,’ I say.
‘I can’t believe you agreed to that Pact,’ Logi-Gal says, scowling.
‘What Pact?’ asks Cyclone Tracy.
‘Oh, nothing. It’s not important,’ I say. ‘Everyone OK?’
‘I’m all right,’ says Logi-Gal. She shakes her head. ‘But I fail to see how you will be,’ she says quietly.
Cannonball is nursing his hand. ‘Bushranger’s head is solid steel.’
Torch is wiggling his fingers. ‘My flames would have worked against them, but you guys let me down. There was no one to cover me.’
‘Steady, partner,’ I say. ‘They landed some lucky shots. You okay, Gamer?’
‘Beaten by a disgruntled tree,’ he says miserably. ‘Not a great start to my life in the Team.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ says Cyclone Tracy. ‘A Category 2 Villain shouldn’t be able to control an entire tree, let alone all the trees in the park.’
I’m having trouble breathing as she quietly gazes at me with eyes, amazing eyes, from behind a fringe of hair.
‘Cyclone Tracy,’ I finally manage. ‘Thanks for helping us out. Thanks a lot.’
‘No problem,’ she says. ‘See ya.’ And, with gale-force wind suddenly buffeting us, she rises into the air and sweeps off in a southerly direction. I watch her until she is out of sight.
CHAPTER 8
GRL-STARS!
‘Man, I hate it when other Heroes have to bail us out,’ I say, although secretly I think that if anybody had to step in, I’m glad it was Cyclone Tracy.
We’ve just been released from another boring school day and changed into our costumes so we can comb the streets of Fairfield, looking for low-level criminal activity. The Gamer and Logi-Gal had to catch trains from a couple of suburbs away, to the east and west respectively. As we walk, The Gamer constantly darts onto the nature strip smashing mysterious crates and collecting flashing gold coins.
‘We weren’t bailed out,’ says Torch, who is wearing a black jacket over his fiery costume. ‘We would have toasted them if Cyclone Tracy hadn’t shown up, looking to hog the glory. I had them just where I wanted them.’
‘Of course you did.’ Logi-Gal adjusts her glasses.
‘I thought you were great in the battle, Logic-Girl,’ says Cannonball. Torch gives him a strange look so Cannonball punches him on the arm.
‘Ouch. That really hurt,’ says Torch. ‘You’re not hitting Bushranger now.’
‘There’s no way those guys were Category 2,’ The Gamer says. ‘Who was that Morphul dude? He was genuinely scary. And Bushranger had the whole park under his command. That’s no Category 2.’
‘You reckon? He cou
ld only wave a few branches in a threatening manner,’ sniffs Torch. ‘Minor league stuff.’
‘This from the human candle,’ says Cannonball. ‘I didn’t notice you taking him out.’
‘I thought The Gamer had him covered. And don’t call me a candle. I’m a Torch, Popgun. I’m going places.’
‘Yeah, novelty birthday parties,’ mutters Cannonball.
‘Oh yeah,’ says Torch, taking off his jacket. ‘Do novelty birthday party acts have a genuine tattoo?’
With his jacket removed, we can see Torch’s bare arms. His costume is sleeveless. And on his upper right arm is a huge black tattoo.
‘Torch,’ says Logi-Gal. ‘What in Golden Boy’s name is that?’
‘You’ve torn the sleeves off the famous Torch uniform,’ I say. ‘Your family will be mad.’
‘A Heroic Tailor can fix that,’ he says.
‘More to the point, why do you have a tattoo of a willy on your arm?’ asks The Gamer.
‘A what?’ says Torch. ‘It’s a finger pointing, with flame.’
He strains his neck to get a better look at the tattoo.
‘It’s a doodle, Torch.’ Cannonball is shaking with laughter.
‘It’s a “stylised” finger – pointing. With a flame shooting out of it.’
‘This is why your arm has been sore?’ I say. ‘Because you had a “sausage and two veg” tattooed onto your arm?’
‘It’s a Heroically clenched fist. It’s a pointing finger. Look how cool the flame is.’
‘Torch,’ says Logi-Gal. ‘Torch, Torch, Torch.’
‘You guys are just jealous because you don’t have a cool Hero tattoo,’ he fumes.
‘I wonder if my agent would approve of ink?’ Cannonball wonders, but then stops dead. ‘Oh no, look who’s coming.’
Five girls are standing at the end of the alley. They’re all about 12 years old and when they spot us, they automatically strike dramatic poses. Then the lead girl snaps her fingers and they walk, in a pre-arranged choreographed routine using an exaggerated stride that makes their hips and hair and capes sway a half-beat off their step. A couple of metres from us, the lead girl raises a hand and twirls a finger and, as one, they stop and pose again.
‘Like, the OK losers. Wassup?’
The lead girl, the one doing the talking, is wearing a deep blue costume that looks more like a dancer uniform than Hero wear. She has a bowler hat tilted over her left eye and a shimmering sequinned T on her chest. Her face has a light dusting of glitter and she’s wearing flashy sequinned gloves.
‘How’s it going, Yesterday?’ I ask.
‘It’s Tomorrow Girl now, Focus. You know that, or has your brain gone fuzzy too?’ she says.
‘Tomorrow Girl!’ Cannonball snorts. ‘I can’t believe you changed your name after one very debatable future vision over a year ago.’
‘Not debatable. Confirmed. I can see the future,’ she says, ‘And yours isn’t pretty.’
She clicks her fingers and the five girls synchronise their shift to a different pose.
‘Man, are you pimple-heads Heroes or a girl band?’ Torch sneers.
‘You can be Heroes and performers, Torch,’ she says. ‘Anyway, there are plenty of Heroes catching bad guys. We have better things to do.’
‘Like Hero make-up,’ says one of the G rl-Stars.
‘And Hero fingernails,’ says another.
Tomorrow Girl flicks her hair and squints at Torch. ‘Um, like, why have you got a tattoo of a . . . you know . . . on your arm, Candle? I hope it’s one of those temporary tatts.’
‘You wouldn’t understand. It’s a grown-up concept,’ says Torch.
She leers at him. ‘Hey, I hear Switchy is pursuing individual projects. Another Hero too good for Cannonball and his loser gang.’
‘You used to be one of us, Yesterday,’ I say.
‘Yeah, but now I have my own crew. Right, G rl-Stars?’
The other four nod in carefully choreographed unison.
‘Totally.’
‘S’right!’
‘Damn straight, girlfriend!’
‘Sweet.’
‘Word!’
Cannonball can barely contain himself. ‘If you weren’t my sister, Yest – sorry, Tomorrow Girl, I’d laugh you and the G rl-Stars out of town.’
‘But Mum would be mad, so you won’t,’ she says sweetly. ‘Anyway, like, later, C-graders. We’re heading to Northland. Hit it, sistas!’
As one, they break into song, while performing a choreographed dance step.
Grl-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
‘And the winner for worst song ever is . . .’ says Cannonball.
Tomorrow Girl examines a finger nail. ‘Like you’d even know popular culture if it smacked you across your unfashionable black helmet, brother dearest.’
‘Actually,’ says Logi-Gal, ‘pop culture, as an entity, isn’t a solid, physical being and therefore would be incapable of actually making contact with another object, per se. Plus I think this time Cannonball has got it right.’
‘Whatevs, Library-Head,’ says Tomorrow Girl. And on an invisible signal all five strut past us with their synchronised swagger, staring moodily into the middle distance like catwalk models.
‘They appear to be channelling their youthful insecurity into ridiculous posing,’ Logi-Gal says, nodding. ‘Ineffective against mature criminals.’
‘Logi-Gal, I’ve never been happier that you’re in our Team,’ I say.
We turn a corner and I get hit in the chest by a lemon. I see the ear of an elephant head disappear around another corner.
‘Boy, is that Elephant Head a sore loser,’ I say.
‘At least Mum is happy about all the lemons I keep bringing home,’ Cannonball says. ‘She’s been making lemon tart, lemonade, preserved lemons . . .’
We keep up with our crime-beat, but we aren’t feeling very Heroic today. Torch keeps sneaking uncertain glances at his tattoo. And apart from a dog stealing smelly sausages from a skip at the back of the butchers, there’s not much crime to be thwarted.
Torch shoots a flame at the dog, but misses it, and instead cooks the sausages. The dog gratefully gulps down the unexpected hot meal. Torch looks even less pleased with the world.
‘Gee Two Gee,’ he says.
‘Huh?’ says Cannonball.
‘It’s L8. G2G for me,’ Torch shrugs.
We all stare at him as though he’s an alien.
‘What language is that, Candle-Boy?’ says Cannonball.
‘Get with the lingo,’ he sighs. ‘Honestly, you lot are so small town. Tune into herohints.com. Hang out at the Hero forums. The Heroes OS know how to speak.
Anyway, G2G.’
‘Give to Gorillas?’ Logi-Gal suggests.
‘Great to grow?’ I try.
‘Goal to goal?’ Cannonball says.
‘Guest to Game?’ Of course it’s The Gamer.
‘Got To Go,’ says Torch. ‘L8. Late. Jeez.’
‘What’s shorthand for Complete Tosser?’ Cannon -ball asks.
Torch takes a step towards him. ‘I’ve just about had enough of you, Water Pistol.’
‘Oh yeah, Human Lighter?’
‘Play nice, Hero hopefuls!’ We all jump in shock, but when I narrow my eyes, I can see Chameleon’s outline, his Superpower blending him almost perfectly into the background which is poster of a woman smiling hugely, advertising a new dishwashing powder she’s discovered.
‘Hey OKers, did you hear about Volt?’
‘I knew it was you, Chameleon,’ I say.
‘Which is why you involuntarily turned into a cloud when I first spoke,’ he says and I can tell he’s grinning, even if the model’s beaming smile is disguising his actual face. ‘You recovered from the Flying Tigers’ humiliation yet?’
&n
bsp; ‘You got lucky on the night,’ I say, hoping my blurriness covers my blushing. ‘What about Volt?’
‘You know who he is, right?’ Chameleon asks.
Logi-Gal frowns and doesn’t let us down. ‘Category 5 Villain, famous for holding hostage the town of Yallourn – source of most of the Victoria’s coal-based electricity production – with threats to surge the state’s power. Sentenced to twelve years imprisonment in 1997, but escaped during the blackout of the big storms of 2003.’
‘Yes’ says Chameleon, now merged into the brick wall of the Commonwealth Bank. ‘He surfaced yesterday, trying to plug into the power grid, to boost his electricity reserves and therefore increase his ability to zap Heroes. Golden Boy tracked him and they went toe to toe. But far from being a Category 5, Volt was souped to the max on S.T.O.M.P. and mainlining the state’s power. The second he and Golden Boy connected, it blew nine generators, blacked out more than 50 per cent of the state and formed a crater so deep it’s probably going to be a tourist attraction to rival the Grand Canyon.’
‘How’s Golden Boy?’ I ask, my heart thumping.
Chameleon pauses. ‘He suffered an injury to his arm – a graze that almost broke the skin. Unusual for him to be so wounded.’
‘That sounds much more powerful than Category 5,’ says The Gamer. ‘Aren’t they supposed to be mid-powered Villains?’
‘Exactly,’ says Chameleon. ‘This S.T.O.M.P. is dangerous. For everybody. Gotham says it’s a synthetic compound that boosts energy and muscle-mass, artificially enhancing Hero or Super-Villain powers . It also enables fast physical recovery and the production of more red blood cells, giving the heart extra oxygen and therefore greater aerobic capacity.’
‘Huh?’ says Cannonball.
The Gamer swipes some gold coins that appear when he kicks a patch of grass. Bling. Bling. Blorrrrp. ‘It makes you bigger and stronger and less tired,’ he translates.
‘Exactly,’ agrees Chameleon.
‘Why S.T.O.M.P.?’ Logi-Gal asks.
‘Serum That Overly Magnifies Powers,’ Chameleon says. ‘It’s powerful stuff. Very powerful, and potentially dangerous. Nobody knows what its side effects are. But we’re definitely seeing increased S.T.O.M.P. effects in battle. It’s a worry.’
