by Lucas Flint
“What is Iron Angel’s ultimate goal?” asked Greta. “What is he trying to accomplish?”
“I already told you,” I said. “He wants to kill Rubberman in particular and destroy the superhero industry in general. He’s a radical, just like Fro-Zen. He might even be an anarchist, because he also talked about trying to overthrow the government.”
“I don’t think that’s his ultimate goal,” said Greta, shaking her head again. “I’ve never met him, of course, but based on what you told me, I don’t think Iron Angel is just trying to do that. I think that all of that is just a justification for another goal, something more personal.”
“Why would you think that?” I said. “He sounded like he meant it when he rambled on about it to me for ten minutes.”
“Look at the facts,” said Greta. “He hates sidekicks and, instead of killing you outright, he tried to make you join his side. I think his real problem has to do with sidekicks. Does he have one of his own?”
I shook my head. “No. He used to, though. A girl named Winged Gal, who was murdered by a villain known as Black Poison ten years ago.”
“I’m not a superhero expert, but isn’t that around the same time that Iron Angel retired from the business?” asked Greta. “Maybe there’s a connection between Winged Gal’s death and Iron Angel’s decision to retire. It might also explain what his real goal is.”
I folded my arms. “Who cares what his real goal is? He’s crazy and needs to be stopped, no matter what his motivation is.”
“If we know his actual motivation for founding the Vigilante Legion, it would help us predict what he’s going to do next,” said Greta. “Also, it might help us figure out how to beat him. Dad always taught me that you should know your enemy.”
“Good point,” I said. “But I still think that our first priority—well, my first priority, anyway—should be to find and reunite with Rubberman. If we’re going to stop Iron Angel and the Vigilante Legion, we’ll need Rubberman.”
“Agreed,” said Greta. “But that just brings us back to our first point; namely, how we’re going to find Rubberman when he doesn’t have his cell phone or any other way to contact him.”
I frowned. I was thinking as hard as I could about how we could contact Rubberman. I still had my phone on me, of course, but Rubberman didn’t have his phone, which was what made it so problematic.
I leaned back in the back seat and felt my backpack stop me from leaning back as far as I wanted. I also felt the outline of my helmet against the fabric of my backpack, which caused me to remember that I always carried around a spare copy of my Beams costume whenever I was working. Not that that would do me much good right now, though, because even if I put on my suit and confronted Iron Angel face-to-face, I still wouldn’t be able to beat him in a fight. Nor would I be able to contact Rubber—
Something clicked in my mind. Without hesitation, I pulled my backpack off my back, set in my lap, and began rummaging through it. I had to pull out a few notebooks and graded papers before I found it: The helmet of the Beams costume, sitting on top of the rest of the folded costume.
I raised the helmet out of the backpack, took off my glasses, and placed the helmet firmly on my head.
“Um, Alex?” said Greta uncertainly. “You aren’t going to change into your costume in here, are you? Because if so, give me a moment to get out so I can give you some privacy.”
“I’m not putting on my costume here, Greta,” I said, gesturing at my helmet. “Just my helmet, because it is the key to all of our problems.”
“It is?” said Greta. She squinted. “I don’t see it.”
“My helmet has a built-in radicom,” I said, tapping the side of the helmet. “Rubberman’s suit also has an radicom. It is how we’re able to stay in contact with each other over short distances. The radicoms are linked through the same radio channel, so if I activate my radicom, I should be able to contact Rubberman.”
Greta frowned. “But you said the radicoms are for short distance range. Just how short are we talking about here?”
“Ten miles,” I said. “But it can work at longer ranges, but it’s just very unreliable and prone to breaking off at the worst moments.”
“How do you know Rubberman is within ten miles of my house?” asked Greta. “What if he’s farther than that?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it’s our only chance of finding him before the Vigilante Legion does,” I said. “If this fails … well, you can just say you told me so. Now be quiet so I can listen. If Rubberman is outside the range, his connection will be very hard to hear, so I need to be able to focus in case I connect with him.”
I tapped the side of my helmet again and went still. I heard the familiar click of the radicom as it came on, but at first I just heard static in my ears. I waited to see if Rubberman would respond first, but I heard nothing at all. That meant that either Rubberman was out of range or he was unaware that I was trying to contact him. The only way to find out would be to call him.
So I said, in a loud, clear voice, “Rubberman, it’s Beams. Are you there? If you are, please let me know. I found out about the Vigilante Legion and I want to find you so we can team up again to take these guys down. Let me know where you are and I’ll come and find you.”
Silence. Well, it was mostly static, but there wasn’t much difference between static and silence, in my opinion.
“So?” said Greta, leaning forward eagerly. “Has he responded?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “I think he must be out of range.”
That wasn’t the only reason why Rubberman didn’t respond, of course. He could have also been dead, but I didn’t want to say that aloud because I didn’t want to worry Greta even more than she already was.
“Dang,” said Greta. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but—”
Greta was interrupted by the sound of shattered glass. It sounded like a window being broken somewhere in her house. The two of us became abruptly quiet, listening very carefully for who it might have been. But we heard no other sounds from the house itself.
I looked at Greta. “Did you hear that?”
Greta—whose eyes were now as large as saucer plates—nodded. “Yes. Someone’s broken into my house. Do you think it is a member of the Vigilante Legion or possibly even Iron Angel himself?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I spoke in a whisper, in case the intruder was close. “I’ll go out and check.”
I reached to open the passenger door, but Greta grabbed my arm, causing me to look at her. She looked completely freaked out now, her eyes wide and frightened. I felt a powerful protective instinct to grab her and hold her close, but because of the way we sat, it would be too awkward to do, so I settled for looking into her eyes.
“We should run,” said Greta. “If it’s a member of the Vigilante Legion, that means they know we’re here. We—”
“If they know we’re here, then literally nowhere else in Golden City is safe to hide,” I said. “Might as well make our last stand here, if we have to. Besides, I’m not asking you to come with me. You can stay here in the car, and if I don’t come back in five minutes, just open the garage doors and get the hell out of the city. Something tells me that the Vigilante Legion won’t be content to leave you alone, especially if they find out who you really are.”
At first, I thought Greta was going to argue with me about this, but then she let go of my arm and said, “Let me go with you. You don’t know my house as well as I do, so you’ll need my help to get around it without being seen or heard by this intruder.”
“Fine,” I said. I put my hand on the door handle again. “Let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Before leaving the garage, I put on my entire Beams costume. I expected to fight whoever the intruder was, so I wanted to make sure I was combat ready for whoever awaited us. Greta kept her back to me the entire time, because there wasn’t much room for me to change in the garage. I could tell she w
anted to look, but she had enough self-control to keep her back to me until I told her to turn around and face me.
“Wow, Alex,” Greta said, eying my costume. “I forgot just how much your costume, uh, enhances your body.”
I was glad my helmet’s visor hid my face, because my face became as red as a tomato when she said that. “Thanks, Greta, but we’ve got to go. I’ll lead, because I’m stronger than you.”
“And get us both lost?” said Greta. “No, I should lead, because I know the house’s layout better than you.”
“Does it really matter if you know the house better than me?” I said. “We don’t know which window was broken. It could be in any of the rooms of your house, which means we’ll need to check each and every one of them.”
“Actually, I think it came from Dad’s study,” said Greta. “It’s the room closest to the garage and the only one you could hear a window broken from. Plus, it’s one of the best spots to sneak into the house, because the outside of Dad’s study is hidden behind a lot of trees and bushes, meaning someone could sneak in without being seen if they were good enough.”
“That … makes sense,” I said. “A little too much sense.”
Greta gave me an apologetic smile. “Part of Dad’s training. He taught me what to look for when trying to break into a place without being seen. Of course, a lot of it is also just common sense, but—”
“Okay, we’ll go to your dad’s study,” I said. “Lead the way, princess.”
Greta nodded and we both walked over to the door leading out of the garage. I opened it and peered out into the well-lit hallway on the other side. It was empty of people, though that didn’t mean it was safe to rush out.
I looked over my shoulder at Greta. “Hallway is clear. Where is the study?”
“First door to your right,” said Greta. “Do you see it?”
I peered into the hallway again and spotted the door immediately. It was a tall, old oak door that nonetheless looked sturdy enough to keep out all but the strongest thieves. Which was probably intentional, now that I thought about it, because Mr. Hammond had probably modified his house to make it thief-proof. It did seem funny to me, though, that he had neglected the window in his study, but I guess we can’t be perfect all the time, huh?
Stepping out into the hallway, I gestured for Greta to follow. The two of us stepped in front of the study door, Greta slightly away from it, while I walked up and pressed the side of my helmet against the door to try to listen to anyone on the other side. I heard nothing, however, not even the sound of the wind blowing through what was most likely a smashed window now.
I looked at Greta once again. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It’s thick.”
“What?”
“The door,” said Greta, gesturing at the door quickly. “The thickest door in the house. You couldn’t hear through it even if you weren’t wearing your helmet.”
“I see,” I said. “Guess that means we’ll just have to open it and see who is on the other side for ourselves, huh?”
“Yep,” said Greta.
I turned my attention back to the door. I rested both hands on the huge golden doorknob, but before I pulled it open, I readied my eyes to unleash a quick blast. Once I opened the door, the intruder would notice, which would give me only a very short time window in which to shoot him. If I didn’t shoot right, the intruder would have time to counterattack, and if he was one of the members of the Vigilante Legion, then he was probably a powerful former superhero in his own right. Therefore, I needed to open the door fast and fire as soon as I spotted the intruder; if he survived, I might interrogate him later.
Taking a deep breath, I tightened my grip on the doorknob, turned it, and shoved the door inward. With a yell, I jumped into the room and looked around at the study, trying to spot the intruder.
Mr. Hammond’s study was much bigger than I expected. Shelves full of books—ranging from classics like A Tale of Two Cities to modern thrillers that my own dad liked to read—lined the walls, while a map of the whole world was against the wall behind the desk, covered with pins and sticky notes I couldn’t read from a distance. The floor was a nice, solid wood and crystalline lights hung from the ceiling like icicles, though they weren’t on at the moment, which made it hard to see the room very well. The only light came in from the windows, though it wasn’t very much.
But then I spotted the broken window on the left side of the room. A huddled mass lay under the window, but thanks to the terrible lighting, it was hard to see who it was. Knowing that it was likely one of the members of the Vigilante Legion, I fired my eye lasers at the mass.
But the person rolled out of the way at the last second. My lasers struck the floor, leaving a small, smoking crater where they hit. I immediately turned my head to follow the person, but before I could fire again, the person raised a hand and shouted, “Beams, hold on! Don’t shoot. It’s me.”
I hesitated and, recognizing the voice, looked more closely at who it was. Lying on the floor, his face bloodied but still recognizable, was Rubberman. There was no doubt about it: I would recognize that blue and white spandex suit anywhere. He was in a sort of half fetal position, but when he saw that I wasn’t going to shoot him, he sat up, albeit slowly and painfully, as if his back hurt.
“Rubberman?” I said, pushing the door open entirely and stepping inside. “Is that really you? You’re not some kind of dream or illusion, are you?”
Rubberman shook his head. “No. I’m the real deal, all right. So are my wounds, for that matter.”
I looked more closely at Rubberman’s face. “Yeah, your wounds look real enough.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Rubberman as he slowly rose to his feet. “My healing factor has already healed the worst of it, though I admit my body is still a bit stiff. I’ll be fine after about a day or so, I imagine, though I should probably go see the doctor after all of this anyway just to make sure that he didn’t leave any lasting wounds.”
I noticed Rubberman pointedly avoided using Iron Angel’s name, but before I could ponder that, Greta stuck her head into the room and said, “Alex, what’s the problem? Who is it? Is it—”
She stopped speaking when she saw Rubberman. Her jaw fell open, maybe because he looked like he’d just been in a bar fight. She also moved backwards slightly, like she was going to run away, which I attributed to the fact that she was the Robber and was afraid that Rubberman might try to arrest her, even though he didn’t know that she was the robber.
Rubberman, to his credit, looked at her in confusion. “Did you just call Beams by his real name?”
“Uh …” I scratched the back of my head. “Um, yes, she did. She knows my real identity, but she promised not to tell anyone.”
Rubberman’s eyes narrowed, but to my relief, he just nodded. “All right. I suppose if she is letting you stay in her house, she must know who you are and it’s too late to do anything about it. But we’ve never met before, so let me introduce myself.” Rubberman stretched out a hand toward Greta. “I’m Dennis Pullman, though you can call me Rubberman if you like.”
Greta stared at Rubberman’s outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it, which made his arm vibrate slightly like a rubber band. “Greta Hammond. I’m Alex’s girlfriend.”
“I know,” said Rubberman as his hand snapped back to its natural length. “Alex has told me much about you. If I may say, you’re a very pretty girl.”
“T-Thanks,” Greta stuttered; she seemed oddly taken aback by Rubberman, though then again, most people tended to be starstruck around superheroes. Or maybe she was afraid he might find out who she really is.
“Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, what are you doing here, boss?” I asked Rubberman. “How did you know I would be here?”
Rubberman quickly held up a finger to silence me. He extended a hand up to the blinds on the broken window and pulled them down. This had the effect of darkening the study even more, although th
e light coming in from the few windows which weren’t blocked off was still enough to see by.
“Short answer, I didn’t,” said Rubberman as he lowered his arm, which had returned to its normal length. “When that man and his allies attacked me, I originally fled to a secret bunker I’ve got in Golden City.”
“You’ve got a secret bunker?” I said in surprise. “Where?”
“Near the office building which Barriers used for his base before he was killed,” said Rubberman. “I intended to tell you about it at some point, but I use it so rarely that it usually slips my mind. I had the bunker built for exactly these sorts of occasions, a place where I could hide and treat my injuries if the Elastic Cave became compromised. I’ll show it to you if we survive this situation.”
I didn’t like Rubberman’s use of the word ‘if,’ but aloud I said, “So why did you leave the bunker?”
“Because the bunker blocks most communications coming in and out of it,” Rubberman replied. “I wanted to contact you and warn you about not going to the Elastic Cave, but that man had destroyed my cell phone. I still have my radicom, but it isn’t very good for long distance communications, as you know.”
I nodded. “Why did you come to Greta’s house?”
“It was based on intuition more than anything,” said Rubberman with a shrug. “I was betting on you either not going to the Elastic Cave or, if you went there, escaping the Vigilante Legion and looking for help. I knew you wouldn’t want to involve your family in this, but you also didn’t have a way to contact me. Therefore, I deduced that you would call Greta and ask her to help, because she’s your girlfriend, a fact which the Vigilante Legion might not know and so could not use to find you.”
“Wow,” said Greta, who was now standing beside me. “You’re smart.”
Rubberman shrugged. “It’s not intelligence so much as narrowing down the logical options. It’s what I would have done under the same circumstances. It helps that I’ve worked with Alex long enough to know how he thinks.”