Becky reappeared on camera.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’m forced to take us to the weather, but rest assured, we’ll keep up with updates as they happen.”
The weather girl appeared in the next scene. After a few minutes of mundane dialogue, Glen made a hurried search on the net.
“What are you looking for?” Mick asked.
“Newspaper headlines. There,” Glen said, tapping in a final key.
Six super villains terrorise Sydney! Appeared above their heads in tattooed ink.
“It’s real,” Glen gasped. “What we saw was real.”
He turned off his phone, ending the tattooed graphics, and leaving the six men in stunned silence.
Eventually, Mick spoke. “We can see why we’re here.”
“We’ve got to get back to Sydney,” said Nick.
The other’s gave staggered “yeahs.”
“That’s what we shouldn’t do,” said Mick. “If we get on a plane before we gel as a unit, then those super freaks will kill us. It’d be a case of six individuals taking on a team.”
The group settled into reluctant silence.
“We’ll start training tomorrow,” said Mick at last.
He pressed a section on the cave wall. Electric motors whirred, putting a screen door across the cave entrance.
“Have you got anything to eat?” asked Nick.
Mick gestured at the last chocolate biscuit on the coffee table in their midst.
“Is that all you’ve got?” asked Jordan.
“Well yeah,” said Mick. “I’ve conditioned myself to live on a nibble a day. That would’ve lasted me another month.”
For the next two hours, the group stared at the biscuit;saliva dripping from the corner of their mouths. Each man considered it too polite to eat the last one. Mick, already full from an earlier nibble, headed for the only bed.
“I’m going to bed,” he said. “There’s blankets in that cupboard there, when you’re ready.”
“Where?” said Ryan.
Mick Pointed. “Just press that section of the wall.”
Ryan dabbed at where he thought Mick meant.
“No, there,” said Mick.
Several attempts at varied spots later, something clicked. A door seam appeared and slid aside, revealing shelves stacked with linen, blankets, and ironing gear.
“There’s not a lot in there, I’m afraid,” said Mick, “but then it’s only for me. Fortunately we’re in the warmer months, so I have a few to spare.”
“Not enough though,” said Nick.
“I’ve got my own bedding arrangements,” said Glen.
“So do I,” said Pat.
They handed the few blankets among the rest of the group. Mick turned to one side on his bed about to close his eyes when he saw Glen wander among the stalagmites. He laid down on the floor. His hair sprouted into two long tufts, gripping the stalagmites and raising him from the floor. Extra tufts sprouted and spread beneath him, weaving a hammock to support him within seconds. More hair became a blanket, covering him up to his chin. To Mick, it seemed creepy to see Glen nestled in tufts of hair. It made him look like a spider’s prey.
Pat lowered his arm. Ink ran from the limb and became a four poster bed, complete with bedside table and reading lamp.