First Date (Minimum Wage Sidekick Book 2)

by Lucas Flint

  So far, however, I had not seen any thieves or even any hints that there were any thieves inside. I was getting really, really bored, so bored that I was pretty sure I could sleep the rest of the night away without having to worry about a thief sneaking past me.

  But then I heard static in my ears, followed by Rubberman’s voice inside my helmet, saying, “Beams, this is Rubberman speaking. How are you holding up?”

  I yawned. “Well enough, I suppose. I’m just not used to staying up so late. I was thinking of taking a nap.”

  “A nap on the job is a good way to get us fired from the mission and therefore not paid. I’d suggest you don’t do it.”

  “I was just joking,” I said quickly. “I’m not in any danger of falling asleep. The coffee I drank earlier is keeping me alert.”

  “Good to hear,” said Rubberman. “I’ve been patrolling the roof of the Museum, but have not seen the thief yet. The security guards have not reported seeing anything out of the ordinary, either. It’s entirely possible that the thief might not show up at all tonight. Perhaps he somehow learned about the curator hiring us to protect the watch.”

  “And we’re supposed to be here all night?”

  “Until six in the morning, when the curator comes in to open the Museum,” said Rubberman. “We will be able to leave early, though, if we catch the thief.”

  “But I’ve got school in the morning,” I said. “Mr. Peters is going to kill me if I don’t pay attention in class.”

  “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ve got that covered,” said Rubberman. “You just stay alert and let me know of anything suspicious you see. And, of course, if you do run into the thief, let me know so I can come down and help you apprehend him.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “I remember what we discussed before. Talk to you later.”

  I tapped the side of my helmet, turning off the communication channel between me and Rubberman. I regretted it almost immediately, though, because I was lonely down here and wanted someone to talk to. Then again, Rubberman needed to remain focused as well, which meant he couldn’t spend time talking to me. I would just need to keep my wits about myself and have my eye beams ready to fire in case the thief somehow got past Rubberman and the security guards. That seemed extremely unlikely to me, given how smart Rubberman was, but Rubberman had stressed to me that even petty thieves could outsmart a superhero if they were smart enough and that I should not let down my guard just because everything seemed to be going well.

  I looked over my shoulder at the watch of Harold Golden itself. It was an old-time pocket watch, of the kind no one but hipsters ever use nowadays, and even then, it didn’t really look like any pocket watch I’d seen hipsters carrying around. It had a long, golden chain and the watch’s hands were ticking; even though the watch was over one hundred and fifty years old, it was still kept in working condition by the curator, Jed Golden. It reminded me of the old grandfather clock in Grandma’s house, except smaller and shinier. The watch looked completely unremarkable to me, but if what Rubberman said was true, then you could sell it for an ungodly amount of money, most likely to some rich hipster with more money than sense, I’m sure.

  That was when I heard a footstep against the marble floor. I looked up and down the hallway, but didn’t see anyone at either end of the hall. The hallway was completely empty, and I didn’t see anyone hiding among the other exhibits, either. Yet I was sure that I had heard a footstep. Was it one of the security guards?

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is anyone there?”

  My voice echoed off the smooth floor and ceiling, but there was no answer. I was now starting to think that I must have imagined the footstep. It definitely couldn’t have been the thief; if the thief had gotten inside, Rubberman or one of the security guards would have called me to let me know. Maybe it was my own foot and I just misheard it as someone else moving, though I dismissed that theory right away because I had not even lifted my feet over the last few minutes or so.

  Shaking my head, I was just about to lean back against the podium when I heard another scuffling sound. This time, there was no mistaking it. I was not alone in the Museum. Someone else was in here. The only question was, who?

  One thing was certain: It was not Rubberman or the guards. That meant it could only be one person: The thief.

  I couldn’t see the thief anywhere, but I didn’t bother to wait for him to show himself. I tapped the side of my helmet and said, “Rubberman, I think the thief is in here.”

  “What?” said Rubberman. “Are you sure? I have not seen anyone sneak in, nor have I heard anything from the other security guards.”

  “I just hear footsteps around me,” I said. “I don’t see him, but I think you should get down here as soon as possible anyway, just to be—”

  All of a sudden, the lights went out around me and I was plunged into deep darkness. I couldn’t even see my own hands in front of my eyes, the darkness was so deep and complete.

  “Beams?” said Rubberman. “Beams, what’s the matter? Are you still there?”

  “The lights,” I said, looking around. “They’re off. Someone must have cut the power. I don’t hear anything, but—”

  A sudden, sharp kick to my abdomen knocked me down to the floor. I hit the floor hard, my helmet bouncing off the marble flooring, and I gasped for air. I heard Rubberman’s voice in my ear, asking if I was okay, but I didn’t respond, because another sharp kick struck me, making me gasp in pain once again. I heard another kick coming, but rolled out of the way just in time and got into a crouching position. My stomach hurt like hell from where it had been kicked, but I ignored it in order to focus on the thief.

  Thanks to the absolute darkness all around me, I could not see the thief, but I did hear movement around me. It sounded light and quick, which told me that the thief was probably not a very big or heavy man. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat, as my aching stomach reminded me, but it did mean I would only need to get a few solid blows in to take him down.

  That is, assuming I could even see him. As it was, the complete and utter darkness of the exhibit meant that I couldn’t see anything at all. I had not been trained in fighting in the dark, so I was not very confident about my chances of success.

  That was when I heard more footsteps rushing toward me. I threw a punch out at random, hoping to strike a lucky blow, but my fist hit nothing; instead, two hands grabbed my outstretched arm and hurled me over the thief’s shoulder with surprising strength. I landed flat on my back, the momentum of the crash knocking the air out of my lungs, and I gasped in pain. In fact, the impact of the blow had nearly knocked me out, but as it was, I was mostly disoriented until I heard the sound of metal cutting through glass and realized that the thief was trying to steal the watch while I was down.

  Scrambling back to my feet, I guessed at the direction in which the thief stood and fired my eye beams. The red beams flashed through the air and struck the glass, shattering it into pieces and sending the watch flying, but I did get a quick glimpse of the thief in the initial flash. He was a few inches shorter than me, wearing a hoodie and a ski mask, carrying some sort of glass-cutting equipment, though he didn’t look very big or large.

  I heard the watch land somewhere nearby, close to my feet. I immediately grabbed it, but just as I laid my hands on it, another set of hands—smaller than mine—grabbed a hold of its chain and pulled. Surprised, I nearly let go of the watch, but redoubled my grip on the chain and pulled back as hard as I could. I heard the thief stumble, perhaps taken by surprise by my own strength, but he didn’t let go. We struggled in the darkness, pulling back and forth in an attempt to wrench the watch out of the hands of the other person.

  We were equal at first, but it quickly became apparent that I was stronger than the thief and it would not be long before I managed to wrench the watch out of his hands.

  At least, that was what I thought until another sharp kick to my abdomen caused my grip on the watch to slacken. The thief yanked th
e watch chain out of my hands and ran. I heard the thief rushing down the hallway, and, ignoring the pain in my own abdomen, I ran after him. I still couldn’t see where I was going, but I did hear the thief’s light footsteps, though they were well ahead of me due to the fact that he had gotten a head start. And I wasn’t sure I would be able to catch up, which meant I would need to stop him fast.

  Therefore, I fired more lasers at him, or at least where I thought that the thief was ahead of me. My lasers lanced through the darkness, briefly illuminating my immediate vision, which allowed me to see the thief running away. My beams struck the floor behind him, leaving a burn mark, but they did not actually hit the thief, though the thief did glance over his shoulder like he was surprised I would attack him like that.

  We finally emerged out of the hallway into the next wing of the Museum, where exhibits relating to the early twentieth century history of Golden City were located. The lights here had not been cut, however, which allowed me to see the thief clearly for the first time. Aside from the ski mask and hoodie, what struck me most about him was how small his shoulders were. He looked almost like a kid, instead of an adult, but it was to his advantage, because his small statue was most likely the main reason he was able to stay ahead of me so effortlessly. It helped, of course, that I had been struck in the gut three times already, the pain slowing me down.

  But I wasn’t going to give up. I had no idea what was taking so long for Rubberman or the security guards to show up, but it did not matter. If I had to take down the thief myself, then so be it.

  As the thief rushed past a bust of Harold Golden, Jr., he reached out and pulled it down in front of my path. The bust crashed into the floor, shattering into a million pieces, but I didn’t stop. I jumped over the bust, using the momentum of my running to give me an extra boost. I hit the floor, rolled to my feet, and leaped at the thief.

  I tackled the thief, sending us both falling down to the floor. The thief gave a strange squeak as the watch flew out of his hands and slid across the floor, coming to a stop at the foot of a display of an old family photo of the Golden family. The thief desperately reached out toward the watch, but I slammed my hand down on his arm, which was surprisingly thin and almost fragile.

  “No way, Jose,” I said. “If you want to find out the time, maybe you should get a smartphone like everyone else.”

  But the thief suddenly rolled over, nearly knocking me off of him. But I held onto him tightly, not about to let him go after that long chase, and then the thief began punching and kicking at me. My helmet protected my face and head from the punches, but his blows still landed on my chest and shoulders. They were not very strong—almost feminine, really—but they came so quickly and so hard that I nearly let go.

  Instead, I redoubled my grip on the thief, despite his punches. I pinned him onto the floor, straddling his waist and pinning his arms down with my hands. He struggled mightily against my weight, but I was a lot heavier than him and held him down in such a way that he couldn’t get the momentum necessary to push me off.

  That was when I saw his eyes for the very first time. They were a bright blue and extremely familiar to me, but I didn’t remember where I’d seen them before. Right now, they were angry and worried, probably because I’d caught him and messed up his theft.

  “All right,” I said, my voice straining slightly from the effort of holding him down. “You are just going to stay right here until Rubberman or one of the security guards show up, okay? And if you try to throw me off, I’ll make sure that the next thing you see is the inside of a jail cell.”

  The thief stopped struggling, but he didn’t stop glaring at me. I was actually surprised at how easily he gave up. Maybe he was smart enough to realize that I’d won.

  A huge shadow fell over us. I looked over my shoulder to see a large security guard standing over us. He was huge, at least a foot taller than me, if not taller. His arms were as thick as tree trunks and he looked like he could bench press a tank without breaking a sweat. With his hat pulled down over his eyes and the light making him look like a silhouette, I didn’t recognize him at first, but then I realized that he was one of the security guards I’d met earlier when Rubberman and I arrived at the Museum. I forgot his name, however, even though I’d been introduced to each guard.

  Still, I smiled and said, “Good to see you! I was wondering when you security guards would show up. As you can see, I just apprehended the thief, so you should call the police and let them know—”

  A huge hand flew down and slapped across my face. Even though my helmet took the brunt of the attack, I still rolled off the thief like a ball and hit the floor hard. I rolled across the floor until I came to a stop in front of a self-portrait of Harold Golden, which shuddered slightly when I hit the display, but otherwise did not fall down.

  My head was spinning, but I managed to look up in time to see the huge security guard helping the thief to his feet. The security guard said something to the thief in a deep, low voice, but I didn’t know what he was saying. All I could tell was that the two of them were working together, which explained how the thief got in here without anyone noticing and why the power went out back in the watch exhibit.

  Rolling over onto my belly, I tried to get back to my feet, but the security guard’s blow had knocked me silly. I could only watch helplessly as the thief and the guard—with the watch now in their possession—ran toward the exit. There was no way I could catch up with them now; even if I tried, that guard would probably snap my neck or something.

  But I couldn’t just let them get away. I fired my lasers at the fleeing thieves, but my aim was off due to my dizziness and only one of my beams hit the thief. Really, it just grazed his arm, but he gave another strange grunt of pain and kept running, clutching his now-burned arm like a baby.

  In seconds, the thief and the guard were gone, leaving me lying all by myself on the floor of the Museum, feeling like a miserable failure of a sidekick.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It wasn’t long afterward that Rubberman and the other security guards—who were all real security guards, not fakes like the one helping the thief—showed up. Rubberman, of course, checked on me and asked if I was okay, while the security guards searched the Museum after I told them what happened. Yet it did not take them long to report back that they had been unable to find any clues of either the thief or the rogue security guard, meaning that the two criminals had managed to escape the Museum with Harold Golden’s watch in hand.

  I was worried that Rubberman would be furious at my failure, but he didn’t show any anger. He spoke calmly with the security guards and called up Jed Golden to inform him of our failure, but he otherwise did not show any anger toward me. He seemed more disappointed than anything, but I hesitated to ask him what he was disappointed about. Was he disappointed that we weren’t going to be paid for our failure or that two criminals had successfully stolen a valuable object right out from under our noses?

  In any case, Rubberman and I had nothing left to do after the criminals escaped, so we hopped into the Rubbermobile and returned to the Elastic Cave. Because the Museum and the Elastic Cave were on opposite sides of the city, however, the drive would be somewhat long, though shorter than you’d think, mostly because Golden City became pretty dead at night and didn’t have as much traffic as it did during the day. Even so, Rubberman was clearly not in any hurry to get back to base. He drove slower than usual and seemed to be thinking about something, though what, I didn’t know.

  I sat in the passenger’s seat, massaging my belly, which still hurt from where I’d been kicked by that thief. The coffee I’d drank earlier was starting to wear off, and with it, the adrenaline rush from my fight with the thief. As a result, I found it hard to stay awake, especially with how smoothly the Rubbermobile drove.

  In fact, I would have dozed off entirely if Rubberman hadn’t said, “Alex, are you awake?”

  I started and looked at Rubberman, whose eyes were still on the road. “Uh, yeah.
Did you want to talk about something?”

  Rubberman nodded. “Yes. I wanted to know what happened back there.”

  “Well, I already told you,” I said. “I caught the thief, but one of the security guards knocked me aside and they both got away. I managed to graze the thief with my eye beams, but he still escaped.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Rubberman. “It is frustrating. It never even occurred to me that one of the security guards might be an ally of the thief. But then, I probably should have seen this coming, given who this thief is.”

  “You mean you know this thief’s identity?” I said, looking at Rubberman in surprise. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know his actual identity, but I know his alias,” said Rubberman, shaking his head. “Tell me, Alex, have you heard about the Golden City Robber?”

  I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “He’s a thief who is believed to be behind a string of recent thefts over the last six months or so,” said Rubberman. “He tends to focus on high value targets like the Museum. He steals valuable historical objects, though what he does with them, we don’t know. We do know, however, that he is extremely efficient and skilled at what he does, which makes him dangerous. He’s evaded capture by the police several times already and is considered one of the most wanted criminals in Golden City.”

  I frowned. “How come I’ve never heard about him until now?”

  “You’ve only worked for me for a month,” Rubberman reminded me. “And the last time the Golden City Robber struck was about a week before you started working for me. He’s been quiet for the past month or so, which is in itself one of his telltale signs, as he usually takes a month off between heists in order to make the police and media lose interest in him. I’ve been tracking him ever since his first heist, though like the police, I’ve had no luck in catching him.”