The OK Team 2 by Nick Place Page A

entrance to the shops and a few cars parked here and there, but mostly it’s a vast, empty concrete cavern with a low roof and a few cracks in the tarmac.
    Southern Cross stands, hands on hips. Facing him is a small monkey.
    â€˜Welcome OK Team,’ he says. ‘I think I can handle it.’
    The monkey scratches under an armpit.
    â€˜Monkey Two Point Oh!’ says Torch.
    Southern Cross walks slowly towards the monkey until he is only a few metres away. He crouches. ‘Hello little fella,’ he says in a soft soothing voice as though he’s talking to a baby. ‘That’s an unusual name you have. Isn’t that an unusual name? Who’s got an unusual name then? Who’s a clever monkey? Coochie coochie coo.’
    â€˜Eep,’ says the monkey. ‘Ook!’
    â€˜2.0 usually means an upgrade in computer software,’ says Logi-Gal.
    â€˜How do you upgrade a monkey?’ I ask, shaking my head.
    â€˜With S.T.O.M.P.,’ says The Gamer.
    The monkey stands on his back legs and bobs up and down, tail floating behind him.
    â€˜Ook,’ he says again.
    â€˜Does anybody speak monkey?’ I ask.
    The Gamer says, ‘Only on certain levels if I’ve won the Gantulese Translating Shield.’
    â€˜Of course,’ I say through clenched teeth. ‘Is that now?’
    â€˜No,’ he says.
    Southern Cross stands up and shrugs. ‘Well, let’s just deliver this little guy to the RSPCA so we can get on with fighting real crime.’
    He takes a step towards the monkey and it shrieks – a high-pitched monkey squeal that becomes deeper and angrier and louder. Then Monkey 2.0 is growing. And growing and growing. And changing from a harmless little monkey into an enormous gorilla. And he keeps growing so that soon we’re worried we’re about to take on King Kong in his prime.
    Once the gorilla is about four metres high, he lazily swings a long arm and sends Southern Cross crashing into a van near the car park entrance, one hundred metres away. One of Melbourne’s greatest Heroes, he’s immediately back on his feet and ready to launch a counter-strike, right up until he puts a glove to his head and falls as his knees buckle.
    â€˜Southern Cross?’ I yell.
    â€˜Can’t seem to –’ he says groggily and then collapses face forward onto the concrete. We all stare at the gorilla-sized Monkey 2.0 – and I feel a flutter of fear.
    â€˜Category 2 Villain, huh? I think we know what the upgrade is,’ Torch says. He’s preparing to launch an attack and fails to see a rubbish bin hurtling through the air towards him.
    â€˜Torch, duck!’ I yell.
    Torch shoots a flame at the bin, knocking it off its path. It bounces away.
    There are too many things happening at once. ‘Gamer, keep an eye on the gorilla,’ I yell.
    But the gorilla is too fast. It grabs Logi-Gal who screams as she is tucked under the gorilla’s arm. With his free hand, the upgraded Monkey 2.0 climbs a ladder, heading for the roof.
    I’m horrified, but The Gamer’s face is pure joy.
    â€˜This is my moment!’ he says. ‘It’s a dream come true. All I need now is for him to start throwing barrels.’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’ I ask. ‘This is a nightmare. Logi-Gal’s in trouble!’
    â€˜Don’t worry. Logi-Gal will be fine. Leave the ape to me,’ he says, still with that strange grin, and he climbs the ladder and disappears out of sight.
    I take a deep breath. ‘Torch, where did the bin come from?’
    We both peer into the gloom of the car park. A couple of bays away is a kid wearing a blue bandana and a deep blue bodysuit, with a white arrow on the chest. He’s pointing at another bin, guiding it through the air.
    â€˜Hey,’ I yell to Torch. ‘That’s the kid from the footy match, the one who pointed the ball through the goals!’
    Torch approaches him,