“Wait a minute,” said Glen. “I know who you are.”
The music died.
“Here, look at this.”
He took out his phone as the others crowded around.
“You’re going to have to take turns to watch,” said Glen.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Pat.
Ink flowed from his arm, turning into an adapter lead. He plugged it into the phone as a scene of a party evolved above their heads. Mick cringed, remembering the night all too well. A caption appeared over the scene – World’s Worst Magician. The others laughed at odd times when he failed to perform his tricks.
“I know who you are too,” said Glen, pointing at Jordan.
“Oh you’ve got footage about my fitness trials?”
Glen found another video clip showing the Red Cockroach temple. A caption read, martial arts student passes in one day.
Two students in orange robes held up a thick block of wood. Jordan raised his hand for a chop, but the timber collapsed in the middle before he managed to bring his had down.
“Passed,” said a short dumpy man wearing thick glasses.
“That’s Master Harris,” Jordan explained.
“Students must break a tile with their heads,” said Harris.
Red Cockroach priests set up a tile on bricks as Jordan knelt. One of the priests smashed a tile over his head.
Jordan went through a series of trials meant to help him pass his training in an afternoon.
“Well; that’s it,” said Glen as the scene turned blank.
A news clip played straight after. All except Mick watched the scenes unfolding. He always found the news depressing.
Crowds ran through the streets and women screamed. By the buildings, Mick understood that he watched a trailer for a movie, set in Sydney. He might watch it if he ever got back home.
“Look out!” someone yelled off camera.
A red sedan slid into view on its roof, giving a view of police wearing bullet proof vests. Instead of handguns, they had automatic rifles. Someone wearing green robes slipped from the side of the camera delivered a knife hand strike to back of a policeman’s neck. He slid his arms over the enforcer’s shoulder and grabbed hold of the rifle. With a curt twist he fired into two more police. Another man in uniform attempted to fire on him from behind. A sharp elbow to the jaw forced the policeman’s rifle to fire a short burst into the air. Before the lawman could recover, the marital artist dropped and spun. His leg shot out, kicking the policeman’s feet from under him. The martial artist then pinned him down by dropping a leg across his body then delivered a curt butt stroke to the head with the rifle.
In that instant, everyone could see the man in the green robe’s face… Jordan’s. Everyone in the cave began to laugh and cheer, patting Jordan on the shoulder.
“You didn’t say you were an actor,” said Mick. “When did you do this?”
Jordan looked shocked.
“That’s not me,” he protested.