by Lucas Flint
“Really? How much did he offer you?”
“Three times my current pay and twenty percent on all royalties earned from licensing deals.”
James dropped the card on the kitchen floor. “What? Why didn’t you accept his offer right away?”
I shrugged. “Rubberman told me that Barriers isn’t a very ethical superhero. He’s just greedy and more obsessed with money and fame than in actually doing the right thing.”
“What, you shouldn’t want to work for the guy who actually wants his business to turn a profit?” said James with a snort. “Right.”
“It’s not that, it’s just …” I trailed off, because I was having a hard time verbalizing my thoughts. “Superheroes are about more than just making money and doing media appearances. We’re also supposed to fight criminals and protect the innocent.”
James chuckled. “On paper, yeah, but in practice, I noticed that a lot of superheroes are huge hypocrites. When I worked for Windchime, for example, he always talked big about fighting crime, but he was as incompetent and shortsighted as any criminal we fought. If someone like this Barriers guy had come up to me and offered me those terms, I would have jumped ship without thinking, and I hated being a sidekick, by the way, which should tell you something about how I feel about this deal.”
“Not all superheroes are hypocrites,” I said defensively. “Rubberman isn’t.”
“Maybe, but who cares?” said James. “Little brother, you’ve got to learn that having principles in business is pointless. Only suckers—poor suckers, at that—believe in that crap. And you know what happens to suckers in business.”
“I’m not a sucker,” I said. “Neither is Rubberman. He’s still a successful businessman, even if he doesn’t put money first and foremost.”
“Maybe he is, but I’m just saying that you need to look out for number one,” said James. “Think about your own goals. If you accepted Barriers’ offer, how much closer would you be to having your own car? Your own car, by the way, that you could drive your girlfriend around in?”
I didn’t respond to that, because I realized James had a point. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself driving a fancy Ferrari-like sports car, with Greta sitting by my side in the passenger’s seat wearing nothing but a very skimpy bikini (hey, this is my dream, so don’t judge me). Loud music was blasting through the speakers while the wind blew through our hair. I was even wearing cool sunglasses, which made me look like a cool young college student instead of an awkward high school student.
But then I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and said, “It’s my life, James. You don’t like it when other people tell you how to live your life, so why don’t you just leave me alone and let me decide what I want to do?”
“No need for the tone, bro,” said James, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just looking out for my one and only younger brother. That’s what older brothers do, after all, but hey, if you don’t want any of my brotherly wisdom, I’ll just keep it to myself.” He suddenly glanced at his watch. “Oh, looks like I’ll be late for my date if I don’t head out soon. See you later, bro.”
With that, James left the kitchen. I just sat there, chewing on my chicken, until I heard the front door open and close, which meant that I was all alone in the house.
I tried to focus on finishing my dinner, but despite my rather small meal, I couldn’t focus on my food. My eyes kept darting over to Barriers’ business card, which lay on the kitchen floor where James had dropped it. I was tempted to go and pick it up again, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with Barriers.
I was too busy thinking about what James told me. Was I really naive to keep working for Rubberman, despite the low pay and royalties? Wouldn’t it make more sense to go work for Barriers? After all, I didn’t become a sidekick because I wanted to be a hero. I became a sidekick to earn money to buy a car and also learn how to control my powers effectively. I’d already come a long way in learning how to use my powers since I started working for Rubberman. At this point, all I needed was money and I would be set. Perhaps once I got enough money, I could quit working for Barriers and then go live a normal life like most people.
But could I really go live a normal life after this? In my life, I’d only ever met two ex-sidekicks: Fro-Zen and James. Fro-Zen had been utterly insane and probably was not very typical of what the life of an average ex-sidekick was like. James, on the other hand, seemed to live a pretty normal life, all things considered. But James didn’t have powers like I did, which would complicate things a bit.
Thinking about Fro-Zen reminded me of his ranting and raving about the corruption of the superhero business. Barriers was the embodiment of everything wrong with the superhero industry. If I went to work for him, wouldn’t I be contributing to that corruption and greed?
I didn’t know the answer to those questions and I wasn’t sure how to find them. Perhaps I’d ask Mom and Dad about them tomorrow. They were always willing to give me helpful advice whenever I asked.
Despite that thought, my worries followed me into bed after I finished dinner, staying with me until I slipped into unconsciousness. But I did pick up Barriers’ business card before I went to my room, mostly because Mom didn’t like it when we left our things on the kitchen floor, not because I had any intention of calling Barriers or anything like that.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next day, I dreaded going to the Elastic Cave after school. Maybe that was illogical, but it was true. For the first time since kindergarten, I actually hoped that school would drag on and not end. That thought would have scared me under normal circumstances, because school sucks, but these were not normal circumstances. I didn’t want to be stuck in the Elastic Cave with Adams, even if it was for my own good. Despite what Rubberman said about this being a ‘light’ punishment, I was sure that Adams would have me do all sorts of humiliating chores, such as cleaning the toilets.
As a result of my desire for time to come to a stop, I paid more attention than I usually did in class, even asking questions so my teachers would keep talking. I even engaged in Mr. Peters’ class more than I usually did, which seemed to surprise Mr. Peters even more than it did me. At lunch, I tried to eat as slowly as I could as I listened to my friend Frank talk about where he and his parents were going to go for winter break, which would start next week for our school. I made sure to ask as many questions as I could, especially whenever Frank started to go quiet, because the longer Frank talked, the longer it seemed to take for school to end. I half-thought that Frank might have the power to manipulate time by talking, but of course it was just my own perception of time that was warped. I also made sure to have Greta sit with us and ask questions, too, which was easy to do because Greta was a great listener and never failed to ask good questions of other people and their stories. I even tried to spend more time in the bathroom than necessary.
But despite my best efforts, the school day flew by anyway and soon I found myself entering the false store front which acted as the entrance to the Elastic Cave. I put my bike on the bike rack and took the elevator down to Level One. I hoped that the elevator would break and get stuck, which would delay my arrival by several hours, but the elevator descended as smoothly as ever. If anything, it seemed to descend even more smoothly, like its cables had recently been changed or something like that.
When the elevator reached Level One, I stepped out reluctantly and called out, “Adams, I’m here!”
“Yes, I heard you arrive, Mr. Fry,” came Adams’ voice from the kitchen area. “Please get your costume on and clock in. We will begin the evening’s chores as soon as you are ready.”
I groaned internally, but still made my way to my room, where I switched into my Beams costume quickly. After I clocked in at the Control System, I made my way to the kitchen, where Adams was busily washing pots and pans in the sink, his black coat hanging on a nearby chair and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.
“All right, Adams, I’m here
,” I said with no enthusiasm in my voice whatsoever. “By the way, is Rubberman still here or has he left already?”
“He left quite some time ago to go to the prison where the Three Fingers members are being kept,” said Adams above the clinking of the pans and the sloshing of the soapy water. “He told me he would be back in time for dinner, but until then, I am to direct you in your chores.”
My shoulders slumped. “Okay. What am I supposed to do first? Wash the dishes?”
“No, I have that covered quite well,” said Adams without looking at me. “Instead, I want you to sweep the entirety of Level One. I’ve been so busy recently that I have let the weekly sweeping of Level One go undone.”
I looked around Level One and grimaced. “You mean the entire place?”
“Of course,” said Adams. “There’s a broom in the room labeled CLEANING SUPPLIES, so I suggest you go and get it. Chop chop! The faster you start, the faster you will finish.”
Reluctantly, I walked across Level One and stopped in front of the door labeled CLEANING SUPPLIES. Opening the door, I peered into the closet and saw a variety of cleaning supplies: Mops, soap, bleach, floor wax, a duster, a five gallon bucket, and other things, but I did not see a broom. There was a dustpan, but no broom for me to push dust into it.
Stepping back, I looked back at the other side of Level One and shouted, “Adams, I don’t see a broom in here! Where is it?”
“Ah, I remember,” said Adams. “I was sweeping Level Two earlier. I must have left the broom down there. You should go down there and find it, but don’t dillydally or touch the Rubbermobile. Mr. Pullman expects Level One to be swept and cleaned by the time he gets back. I dare say it would not be well for you to neglect your duties in that particular area, especially because Mr. Pullman is still stressed out over the damage you caused to the Rubbermobile.”
That was what I feared. Despite what Rubberman told me yesterday, I knew that my crashing the Rubbermobile had really shaken him. It was his pride and joy, so I was not surprised to learn that it still bothered him even now. That made me feel guiltier than ever for crashing it, but I decided not to focus on that. I would just go down to Level Two, grab the broom, and come back up. There was no need for me to do anything else, much less look at the Rubbermobile or touch it.
One short elevator ride later, I stepped out onto Level Two.
I had not been in Level Two since yesterday. It looked much the same as it always did: A large, wide-open chamber, with a set of three doors to my left and a raised platform with a computer and various car repair tools to my right. At the other end of the chamber was a gigantic door which currently blocked off the secret pathway that led to the surface. Below, the Rubbermobile stood in its usual spot. Its driver’s door was still dented and scratched, but the car itself was no longer smoking. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty when I saw it. It would probably be fixed, but I still felt bad for crashing it the way I did.
But that was irrelevant. I needed to find the broom, which Adams had told me was somewhere down here. I looked around, but did not see the broom anywhere. Frowning, I walked over to the railing separating the upper half of Level Two from the lower half and looked over it. There it was. The broom was leaning against the wall below, along with a large plastic dustpan snapped onto it.
Without delay, I rushed down the steps and soon reached the broom. I grabbed the dustpan and turned to leave, but froze when I saw two legs sticking out from underneath the Rubbermobile.
They were two thick, large legs, wearing faded old blue jeans. A red toolbox—full of wrenches, bolts, and other assorted tools and supplies you’d expect to find in an automechanic’s toolbox—stood open near the legs. I almost thought that the Rubbermobile had fallen on top of a guy, but then I heard him grunt, followed by what sounded like a bolt being tightened. That’s how I knew that the guy underneath the Rubbermobile was not stuck or crushed. That’s also when I noticed that a carjack was holding up the Rubbermobile enough for the guy to work under there safely, though I still couldn’t see the upper half of that man’s body.
Not that I was particularly interested in seeing it, however. I was too busy staring at his legs in dread, because I didn’t know who this man was, how he got here, or what he was doing. Adams didn’t mention there being anyone else in the Elastic Cave aside from me and him. It definitely wasn’t Rubberman, because Rubberman didn’t wear jeans and also because Rubberman wasn’t in the Elastic Cave.
There was only one option, then: This man was an intruder, who was doing something to the Rubbermobile. If he was some kind of villain or criminal, then he was most likely trying to disable the Rubbermobile or maybe steal parts from it. Or maybe he was trying to figure out how it was built so he could sell the design to people. Rubberman had told me that the Rubbermobile was a one of a kind car, after all, and given how highly competitive this industry was, it wouldn’t surprise me if there were more than a few other superheroes out there who would pay good money to have their own Rubbermobile. I could easily imagine Barriers hiring someone to pull off this sort of stunt.
The only thing that didn’t make sense was how this man had managed to sneak into the Elastic Cave without tripping the alarms. The Elastic Cave’s security system was so well-designed that even infamous assassins like ZZZ couldn’t break in without being detected. That meant I was dealing with a dangerous criminal here, possibly even a supervillain, although I couldn’t think of any supervillain who wore blue jeans or carried a toolbox with them.
The man did not seem to have noticed me yet. I thought about calling Adams, but decided that I was too close to the intruder to call him. Besides, if this intruder was as dangerous as I thought, I would have to neutralize him as fast as I could. Once he was no longer a threat, I could call Adams and let him know about him.
Holding the broom before me, I carefully advanced toward the man under the Rubbermobile. The intruder, again, did not seem to hear me approach. He was so focused on doing who-knows-what to the Rubbermobile that he probably didn’t hear anything. Even so, I moved silently, because I wanted to have the element of surprise on my side.
When I was about halfway to the Rubbermobile, the intruder suddenly pushed himself out from under the Rubbermobile. Startled, I froze as the man sat up and wiped off his dirty face with a washcloth.
The man looked to be in his early fifties, his fiery red hair nearly completely gray. He had a large mustache equally as red as his hair and wore long, grease-stained coveralls which looked like they’d seen better days. He was a pretty stout guy, but also looked pretty strong, strong enough to take me in a fight no doubt, and had a skull tattoo on his neck. He didn’t seem to have any powers, but I knew from experience that just because a criminal did not have powers didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat.
Like I said, the man was wiping off his face, which meant he still hadn’t noticed me. There was nowhere for me to hide, but I didn’t see any point in hiding, because he would see me soon enough.
So, with a yell, I lunged toward him and brought the broom down on his head. The intruder had just enough time to look up at me in surprise before the broom’s head smashed into his face. The intruder cried out in pain and fell over, clutching his face with both hands, while I began whaling on him with the broom while he was down. Maybe that was a bit excessive, but Rubberman had taught me that you didn’t stop fighting until you were certain that you had neutralized the target, which meant not giving the target a chance to respond.
“Take this, you intruder!” I shouted as I brought the broom down on him again and again. “I don’t know what you were doing to the Rubbermobile, but I’m not going to let you get away with it!”
The intruder couldn’t fight back at all. He was just curled into a ball, his hands over his head, doing his best to protect his face, which was all he could do under my relentless assault. Seemed kind of lame for an intruder, but I didn’t care, because that made this whole thing a lot easier for me.
“Be
ams!” came a familiar voice above me. “What the heck are you doing?”
I stopped whacking the intruder with the broom and looked up. Rubberman stood on the upper half of Level Two, his hands wrapped around the railing as he looked down at me with a mixture of horror and confusion.
“Oh, hey, boss!” I called. I gestured at the cowering intruder with my broom. “I was just teaching this intruder a lesson. He was trying to disable the Rubbermobile, I think, although I don’t know how he got in here. Nonetheless, I managed to stop him before he could break the Rubbermobile and I was trying to knock him out.”
Rubberman sighed and rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “Beams, that isn’t an intruder. That’s the Rubbermobile’s mechanic.”
I froze. “The … mechanic?”
A groan from below caused me to look down. The intruder—I mean, mechanic—had uncovered his face and was looking up at me with a mixture of annoyance and fear. He had a harsh face, though that may have been because I was beating his head in with a broom.
“What did you think I was?” asked the mechanic in an annoyed tone. “The tooth fairy? Perhaps Santa Claus?”
I gulped. “Uh, I’m sorry, Mr., uh—”
“Jameson,” the mechanic said. “Armando Jameson. And who the hell are you? Broom Man?”
“His name is Beams, Armando,” said Rubberman before I could say anything. “He’s my new sidekick. Remember the one I told you about but haven’t introduced to you yet?”
Armando sat up, rubbing his head and looking at me warily. “This is the boy you told me about? The one who nearly totaled the car? Dennis, I’m thinking you are going to need a new sidekick, preferably one that is less likely to use cleaning instruments as weapons.”
The back of my neck became hot with embarrassment. “Sorry, Mr. Jameson, I had no idea it was you. I thought it was just me and Adams in the Cave today. No one told me you were going to be here today.”
Armando snorted. He rose to his feet, dusting off his coveralls. He was about the same size as me, give or take an inch, but I didn’t like the way he glared at me, like I was an idiot or something. “No one told me that you were going to be here today, either. Otherwise, I would have made sure to put that broom somewhere you couldn’t get it.”