The OK Team 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

his arms and shoulders.
    I shake my head. ‘He’s Category 3, about a level above a pesky shoplifter. Still, a win’s a win. We’re not complaining.’
    Beakie the Birdman pats me on the back as he leaves, and I am solid enough to feel his feathered glove. ‘You’ll be ticking off world-saves any minute, Focus. Speaking of which . . .’
    I still get excited whenever I see or feel the golden glow that signals Golden Boy’s arrival. Golden Boy is the best Hero in town, and he saved the whole world about a year ago, at the same time that we were finally earning our Hero stripes with Mr Fabulous. I used to be in awe of him until he treated me like some kind of second-rate Hero, but then we became friends – actual friends – when I helped him believe he was good enough to save the planet.
    He touches down so lightly on the landing pad that it’s as though he doesn’t even need to land, his billowing golden cape and matching gold costume dazzling everybody in the room. If it wasn’t for the heat haze disguise, the people of Melbourne would think the sun was setting right on top of the Melbourne Central pyramid. He is huge, as most of the top Heroes are; standing at least half a metre taller than any of us and yet a ball of finely honed muscle.
    Golden Boy nods hello to a few Heroes, wanders over to the bar and orders a drink – some kind of golden liquid, of course – and then waves to us. Our credibility goes through the roof, and we all work desperately to look nonchalant, as though we couldn’t care less that our city’s greatest champion has chosen to hang with us.
    â€˜Mind if I sit down?’ Golden Boy asks.
    â€˜I’m kind of expecting a cat babe to take that chair any minute,’ Torch says, but Logi-Gal gives him such a withering glance, he shuts up fast. Golden Boy has taken the chair anyway.
    â€˜Oh, I needed that,’ Golden Boy says, sipping his drink and sighing. ‘No fewer than 12 alien vasta-raptor-blurbs just off the coast. It took me three hours to get them all squeezed out and bagged. My costume was disgusting until I conflabulgated it.’
    None of us has a clue what this means, but we’re too cool to admit that. I make a mental note to turn on the special Hero TV channel, Channel 78737, as soon as I get home and hear what happened.
    â€˜Golden Boy, should you be drinking alcohol when you’re still on the job?’ asks Logi-Gal. ‘What if another one of those vasta-things turns up?’
    â€˜Who are you? My mother?’
    â€˜Actually, I’m Logic Girl,’ she says.
    â€˜Logi-Gal? Nice to meet you.’
    â€˜Logic Girl.’
    Golden Boy considers her sensible Hero costume. ‘Nah. Logi-Gal is easier to say, and a lot snappier.’ Then he grins at me. ‘So, the Trolley King, hey? Nice work.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ I say, and I mean it. Any compliment from a Triple A Hero is not to be taken lightly.
    Golden Boy takes another sip. ‘So, was he easy to beat, or harder than you thought?’
    There’s something in his voice that makes me pause. It’s not just a casual topic of conversation.
    â€˜He wasn’t too hard,’ I say. ‘We made a couple of false starts and took a moment to get the right tactics, but we’re improving all the time and –’
    â€˜Focus,’ he says. ‘Relax. I wasn’t suggesting you might have stuffed it up. I just want to know if the Trolley King was unnaturally tough, because, to be honest, you guys shouldn’t have had much trouble bagging him.’
    We all think about this. Switchy POP!s and turns into a couch, which is unfortunate because he is already sitting on a couch.
    â€˜No, I think he was about what a Category 3 should be,’ I say. ‘Why?’
    Golden Boy leans forward, glancing over his shoulder to check no Heroes are within earshot – especially The Ear, whose power is to hear