Chapter Twenty-One
Everyone, it seemed, had the same idea to dress in black. Even System was wearing a small black beanie.
"Howdy," Ned said. "Was wondering when you were going to show."
"No way was I going to miss this," I replied.
Ned was playing some card game with Robyn on the floor, Smithy was sitting at Brooke’s desk/make-up station; a sheep ready for the slaughtering; and System was holding his Game Boy steady as it sported the hologram of Gemini, in vivid colour, so Brooke could get the right shapes and shades.
Brooke studied the picture. "Is it real metal?" she asked.
"Well, it looks real," Smithy said. "It has that metal shine to it."
Brooke rummaged in a pink and purple, decorated box that held all her make-up supplies.
"I have metallic face paint," she said, holding up a small, transparent tub so we all could see.
I nodded. "That’ll do."
She twisted off the lid. "Okay, Smithy, hold still, close your eyes and just think the happiest thoughts you have ever thought," she said as she chose a paintbrush and started to apply the metallic paint to the left side of Smithy’s face.
He flinched.
"Hey, System, why do I even have to pretend to look so much like Gemini if the Monmia don’t even have a sense of sight, like you said?"
"Because, the Monmia don’t have any other sense than hearing. But their leaders are chosen specifically because they do have sight."
"So, some have eyes and others don’t?" Ned summarized.
"Sort of like . . . your Earth ants," System explained. "Some are born to be drones and some are born to be . . . something else, I didn’t pay that much attention in that class. But, same with the Monmia. Most are born blind, without eyes. They have to follow someone who can see and some Monmia are born with eyes. They are born leaders. The Monmia that will be on the other end of the video link will have sight. We have to convince him."
"Fair enough," Smithy said without moving too much of his face.
Robyn dropped her cards and stood up. "Well, Smithy is covered for now," she said. "Unless Gemini puts two and two together, he should stay hidden. But the rest of us need something to hide behind."
Ned jumped up and clicked his fingers. "Bright colours, capes, hideous tights, plastic boots, and, for extra measure, we could each come up with some corny, yet effectively popular, catch-phrases."
I shook my head. "Ned, the idea is to get there, get the job done, and get outta there. We do not want to be famous, we don’t want to get into newspapers or headlines, we just want to stop Gemini. The bright colours and cape thing just may give us away."
"Not to mention that the cape may just get in the way of our escapes," Ned admitted, thoughtfully. "But the catch-phrases inspire hope. Shall we keep those?"
"What do you have in mind?" I ignored Ned and asked Robyn.
She walked over to a corner of Brooke’s room and dug around in a black back-pack. "Ned had a point," she said as she fished around in her back-pack. "I decided we really needed things to hide who we were. But I couldn’t sew five ugly Lycra suits in one day. And none of us wear glasses so it’s useless."
"I apologize for my twenty/twenty eyesight," Ned said.
"So Superman is out the window. But Spiderman might work . . ." Robyn trailed off with a grin. She was purposefully creating an air of mystery.
"What do you mean?" Brooke paused halfway through painting Smithy’s face.
"I mean masks. Like the Incredibles, just a simple black eye-mask. It’ll only hide a bit of our faces but it should be enough. And we can also do wigs."
Robyn pulled out a plastic packet full of black eye-masks.
"Hey, that can work," I said, seeing the potential. "It may not be much, and we’ll still look an awful lot like ourselves but something like that can really throw people off."
"We can at least have stupid, ridiculous names, can’t we?" Ned piped up.
"Ned . . ." I started.
"I’ll be called . . . Luke!" Ned sounded far too satisfied with himself.
"Hey!" I exclaimed.
Ned shrugged, nonchalantly. "What? It’s the name of a superhero! You should be proud."
"Stupid? Ridiculous?" I said.
"Well, if we’re going with names that fit that description," Brooke said, concentrating on Smithy’s ear. "Call me Ned."
"This conversation is getting old," Ned said, flatly.
"I spent at least an hour at the costume/drama club at school today," Robyn said, ignoring the senseless natter. "And they said that it only takes a dash of make-up and a life-like wig to throw people off the scent."
"But we can’t keep on wasting time applying make-up," Brooke said. "What if we see something happening right there and then? We have to just slap on a mask and get to it."
Robyn nodded. "I know. That’s why I decided only a few of us should have wigs. Like Brooke, Ned and I. But for Smithy and Luke, I thought we could just throw some charcoal on their hair: making it black."
"If it works . . ." I said.
"Good. Then, this is for me," Robyn said as she tied up her long hair and fitted a wig of short, dark brown, bouncy curls on.
"What do you think?" Robyn asked, posing. Curls bounced as she twirled. She looked like a spy with her black pants, shirt, jacket, eye-mask and boots.
"Cool," Ned said, approvingly. "What have you got for me?"
"I don’t know how you’ll like this one..." Robyn rummaged through the rucksack and handed Ned a huge afro that was a lot bigger than the bag.
"You did say you wanted to be a stupid, ridiculous hero," I commented as Ned fitted the afro over his head.
He glared at me. "The things I do to save the world . . ."
"And I got Brooke a bob," Robyn said, combing through the blonde strands. "Thought it would be a good idea just to have short hair and preferably something that looks entirely different from our usual hair. No one can pin anything on us now."