 
### Table of Contents

Title Page

Subscribe to my newsletter and get a FREE exclusive novella!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

PREVIEW: First Date Chapter One

Other books by Lucas Flint

Subscribe to my newsletter and get a FREE exclusive novella!

About the Author
FIRST JOB

Minimum Wage Sidekick Book #1

Lucas Flint

Published by Secret Identity Books. An imprint of Annulus Publishing.

Copyright © Lucas Flint 2017. All rights reserved.

Contact: luke@lucasflint.com

Cover design by Damonza

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the above contact.
Subscribe to my newsletter and get a FREE exclusive novella!

If you would like to be the FIRST to know about my newest releases, please subscribe to my weekly newsletter by clicking this link HERE. Newsletter subscribers are always the first to know about my newest releases, exclusive deals, updates on my books, and more. Plus, all subscribers get Happy Birthday: A Minimum Wage Sidekick Novella for FREE just for signing up!

So click this link HERE to sign up today!
CHAPTER ONE

Sometimes, I wished that I had gotten super speed or flight as powers instead of eye beams. That way, I wouldn't be late for my first day at work at my first job as the sidekick of a famous superhero.

Of course, Dad had told me to get to bed at a decent time the night before so I could get up early enough to prepare for work. Mom had agreed and even tried to set my alarm for me, but I told her I would set it myself before I went to bed last night. It was just too embarrassing to have my mom set my alarm for me; I was 16-years-old, after all, I could set my own alarm. And I didn't like Dad telling me to get to bed at a decent time, either, even though I respected Dad a lot.

But now, as I rode my bicycle through the streets of Golden City, trying desperately to not be late to work, I was starting to realize that my parents had been right to worry about me. Not that I would ever admit it, but my parents were usually more right than wrong about these things.

Not that that realization helped me right now. I had slept in this morning; I was supposed to get up at seven, shower and have breakfast, and then bike to the location where I was supposed to meet the representative that Rubberman--a local superhero and my new boss--had sent to get me at eight. Then I would be transported to Rubberman's base, secretly, of course, so no bystanders would see me and find out my secret identity, which would result in me losing my sidekick license if that were to happen.

Not that it would really matter if someone saw me, though, because I was pretty damn sure that I was going to be fired on my first day for being late. I was so used to sleeping in on Saturdays that I had totally forgotten to set an alarm the night before so I could wake up in time to get ready. The only reason I woke up at all was because I smelled the bacon Mom cooked for breakfast; by then, it was seven thirty, which meant I'd had to rush like the Blur to shower and leave. I only ate a few slices of bacon for breakfast, plus half a cup of coffee, but I still felt tired and draggy. Still, if I kept up the pace, I would reach the meeting spot by eight, although it was now seven fifty and I was getting increasingly nervous about my chances of getting there in time.

And I couldn't be late. Rubberman had made it pretty clear that I had to be at work at eight. He didn't exactly say that he would fire me if I didn't show up on time, but Rubberman had earned a reputation for being a superhero concerned with excellence and professionalism, to the point where he'd fired his first sidekick due to his constant laziness and unprofessional attitude. Rubberman seemed like a pretty chill guy when I spoke to him at the job interview, but I was not going to risk inciting his wrath by messing up his schedule by being late.

Thankfully, Golden City was still half-asleep so early in the morning. The city buses were already moving up and down the streets, while a few pedestrians made their way to work, pulling up the collars of their coats to keep the cold wind from biting their faces. I rode past an open cafe and caught a whiff of fresh coffee and donuts from within, which made my stomach growl, but I didn't stop because I didn't have time to eat and drink. I rode past an elderly woman walking her small poodle, which yapped at me as I passed, but I just ignored it. My focus was strictly on the street ahead of me and I could not allow my attention to be diverted by anything. Even if Apparition himself were to suddenly appear in front of me, I would just keep going.

But just as I turned the corner, I caught a flash of blonde in front of me and saw a teenage girl about my age directly in my path. I was going too fast to stop, so I swerved out of the way, avoiding her just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, my bike went off the sidewalk and it crashed, causing me to fall onto the street and bump my head against the road. Thankfully, I was wearing my helmet; however, my glasses had fallen off and now my vision was blurry. Not only that, but I felt my elbow scrape against the street, although it didn't hurt that much. Still, I grabbed it anyway and let out an involuntary moan of pain.

"Oh my gosh!" said a female voice above me that I instantly recognized. "Are you okay?"

I quickly looked up and now felt like even more of an idiot when I saw who, exactly, the girl was: Greta Hammond, one of my classmates and a sort of friend of mine.

I say 'sort of' friend because we were on good terms with each other, but didn't hang out or talk much except in class. That wasn't because I disliked her or anything; it was because I was too intimidated by her good looks to approach her.

Greta was blonde and had the clearest and most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen in a girl. She wore a cute pink skirt and a white coat to go along with it today; even though her family wasn't super rich, she still somehow always managed to look good. Or, at least, I thought she did, though based on some of the envious comments I'd heard from some of the other girls in class, I definitely wasn't the only person to hold that opinion.

Those beautiful blue eyes of hers were looking down at me with real concern, but that didn't make me feel better. Actually, I felt like a complete idiot, lying in the street with my glasses missing and my helmet askew. My clothes were probably dirtied up, too, and I probably looked like a real loser to Greta at the moment.

But I said, as I sat up and started feeling along the street for my glasses, "Oh, it's nothing, Greta. I'm totally fine. I fall down all the time. This is nothing."

Even though I said that pretty casually, I immediately punched myself internally when I said that. What kind of idiot says that? I bet Greta thought I looked like a retard at the moment, which certainly wouldn't help my chances with her.

But I guess Greta was more polite than I thought, because she just giggled a little and said, "Alex, do you need me to help you find your glasses? It's my fault you crashed like that and I should help."

"No, no, no, I got this," I said, although I couldn't help but beam internally when she said my name with such concern. "I lose my glasses all the time. It's nothing."

Again, I punched myself internally for saying such a stupid thing, but Greta either didn't notice or maybe was too polite to mention it. She just bent over, picked up something off the street, and held it out to me. "Here they are. They're a little cracked, though."

I immediately took the glasses and put them on. A 'little' cracked was an understatement; there was a large crack running right through the middle of the right lens, while the left was scratched up near the lower left corner. I could still see out of them, but it was harder than usual and I was sure that it made me look like even more of an idiot than I normally did.

Still, it would have to do, so I said, "Thanks, Greta," and jumped back to my feet and pulled my bike back up with me. I got back on it, but before I could resume my quest, Greta grabbed my arm and said, "Where are you going?"

An electric thrill ran through my arm when Greta touched me, almost making me jump, but instead I just looked at Greta and said, "Somewhere important. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get breakfast," said Greta. "My dad is in town from his work and he's going to meet me at our favorite cafe this morning."

"Huh, really?" I said, although I could feel time ticking away even as I stood there. But getting a chance to talk to Greta was too tempting for me to ignore, so I didn't pull my arm out of her hand. "That's, uh, nice."

"It is," said Greta with a smile. But then she suddenly frowned. "Are you in a hurry? And what's this card you dropped? Is it your driver's license?"

I looked down at the street and saw my sidekick license lying face down on the street near the front wheel of my bicycle. Somehow, it had fallen out of my coat pocket when I fell, although I hadn't felt it fall out.

But that was irrelevant, because Greta was bending down to pick it up and I couldn't let her look at it otherwise she would know my secret identity and the government would revoke my license.

I quickly snatched it off the street just as her fingers brushed against its surface, causing Greta to look at me in surprise as I sat back up in my bicycle and stuffed my license back into my coat pocket. I now understood why Dad had wanted me to get a wallet when I got my license last week; it was starting to feel like today was the day I'd learn the truth behind everything my parents told me to do.

"Thanks for pointing that out," I said. "But I really gotta go. Have fun with your dad!"

Before Greta could say anything else, I immediately took off, pedaling down the street faster than ever. I felt incredibly guilty for just blowing her off like that and I was sure that she would never want to go out with me after this. Not that I had the courage to ask her out anyway, but at least me going out with her was within the theoretical realm before; now, it was firmly in the fictional realm, along with the possibility of me getting to work on time and not getting fired by my boss on my first day of work. A glance at my wristwatch showed that it was only two minutes before eight; there was no way I would get there on time.

Nonetheless, I pedaled fast, heedless of the danger of biking along a street with my cracked and scratched glasses. Just the thought of getting fired before I even started was enough to terrify me into pedaling faster than I normally would ever go. My older brother, James, would never let this down if I got fired on my first day of work.

Turning into an abandoned alleyway, I saw the meeting spot up ahead: An old grocery store, which, as far as I can tell, was completely devoid of people. The GPS app on my watch told me that that was the place, so I gave myself a boost of speed in a final bid to reach it on time.

Finally, I came to a stop in front of the store, the tires of my bike screeching along the pavement as I came to a halt. Panting and sweating even in the cool morning air, I looked to the left and to the right for the representative that Rubberman said was supposed to meet me here. But the alleyway was completely empty; I didn't see any sign that anyone had been here at all. This part of the city felt forgotten.

I looked down at my watch.

It was one minute past eight. Eight o' one.

Which meant that I was going to be fired and that Rubberman was likely already calling up the government to have them revoke my sidekick license.
CHAPTER TWO

I didn't know what to do. I just sat there on my bike, staring at the handlebar, which was barely visible through my cracked and scratched up glasses. I didn't cry; I may not have been as strong as my older brother James, but I knew better than to cry about my problems. Still, I was definitely devastated and too stunned to know what to do.

Should I just go home and tell Mom and Dad that I was fired before I even started? Mom would probably be upset, while Dad would be relieved, given that he doesn't think much about superheroes. But I didn't want to face either of their reactions. And then there was James; he was visiting home from college this week and I didn't want to suffer his teasing for failing so epically. Then again, I still gave him grief over how he quit his job as a sidekick so quickly when he was younger, so I would probably deserve it.

I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. I had Rubberman's number; of course, it was labeled 'BOSS' so no one looking through my contacts would suspect that I was his sidekick. I considered calling Rubberman to let him know that I was late, but I was too afraid of angering him to do it. I just stared at his number for what felt like an eternity before I put the phone back into my pocket, grabbed my bike's handlebar, and turned it around. I would just go home, maybe grab a bite to eat at that cafe on the way there, and tell my parents about my failure. It was pretty clear that I had messed up beyond belief now. I would just spend the rest of the day playing video games or something. Or maybe just curled up under my covers hoping to die a peaceful death so I wouldn't have to go to school on Monday and see Greta, who no doubt thought I was an idiot now. If Rubberman was going to fire me, he could just call me or something.

Sighing, I put my foot on the pedal before an aged voice behind me said, "Are you Alex Fry?"

I froze in my seat and looked over my shoulder. Standing in front of the grocery store was an elderly man who was probably in his late sixties. He had perfectly combed back white hair and wore a black tuxedo that made him look completely out of place in this abandoned alleyway. Even though he was old, he had great posture; he stood as upright as a board, his old brown eyes looking down at me with impatience.

I took my foot off the pedal and, turning my bike around again, said, "Yes, that's me. Who are you?"

"Adams," said the old man. He had a light Scottish accent. "I am the butler of Mr. Dennis Pullman, also known as Rubberman, and I am the representative that he sent to find a Mr. Alex Fry, who is starting work for him as his sidekick today." Adams held out a hand. "May I see your sidekick license in order to confirm your identity?"

I just sat there on my bike, staring at Adams in shock. "But I'm late."

"Yes, but only by about a minute," said Adams. He didn't lower his hand. "Now, will you show me your license or not?"

Flabbergasted, I nonetheless pulled my license out of my pocket and handed it to him. Adams took the license, glanced at it, and then pulled out a small card reader from his pocket. He stuck the top end of my card into the reader, which then made a small 'beep,' causing him to pull out my card and look at the display. Then he nodded once and handed me my card back.

"The scanner has confirmed that your card is real," said Adams. He turned around. "Please come with me, Mr. Fry. Mr. Pullman is a very busy man and would like to get you acquainted with his business and base as quickly as possible so you can get started working for him."

"Yeah, but my bike--"

"Will be safe inside the grocery store," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman bought this property and installed advanced security systems in it, so you need not worry about vagrants, thieves, or supervillains breaking in and stealing your bicycle while you leave it unattended."

Not sure what else to say to that, I followed Adams into the store. Directly to the right of the entrance was a bike rack, which I put my bike in. I also chained it up, but I sensed that there were other security measures around the bike that were more advanced than a mere chain. But I didn't ask Adams about them; I had a feeling they were supposed to be top secret. I also put my helmet on the bike, because I didn't think I would need it where I was going.

As for the grocery store itself, it certainly didn't look like an abandoned store on the inside. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in metal plating, which gave it a clean, modern look that was a pretty sharp contrast to the grungy, abandoned exterior. It was just one room, too, with no other doors leading into or out of the place. I glanced over my shoulder to see out the window, but was surprised to see that it was just a solid wall.

I looked at Adams, who stood in the center of the room looking as dignified as always. "What happened to the window?"

"It's not there," said Adams. "The window you saw on the outside is merely a projection; in fact, the entire front exterior is nothing more than a holographic projection designed by Holo Industries. It is meant to keep people from noticing what it really is and investigating."

"What is it, really?" I said.

"The entrance to Rubberman's base of operations, of course," said Adams. "He calls it the Elastic Cave."

"Elastic Cave?" I said. "That's kind of cheesy."

"I expressed the same sentiments to Mr. Pullman when he first built it, but he assured me that it is part of his 'brand' to have everything rubber-themed," said Adams. "Anyway, come over here and stand next to me. We will take an elevator down to the Elastic Cave, where Mr. Pullman is currently working. But do not worry; he will be more than happy to take time out of his work day to meet you."

"He's working already?" I said as I walked over to Adams. "But it's eight in the morning."

"Mr. Pullman believes in getting up early and starting work right away," said Adams. "He is not a believer in laziness or incompetence."

I tried not to look nervous as I stood next to Adam. I wasn't lazy or incompetent, but the idea of Rubberman or Mr. Pullman or whatever he wanted to be called being such a workaholic made me rethink just how hard I was going to have to work. Then again, if I was still going to get to work here even after being late, then maybe Rubberman wasn't going to be such a hard boss after all. Or maybe this was just to lower my guard and then he would fire me as soon as I made a mistake.

Did I mention that I over-think things? Because I do.

Adams held up his watch and tapped a button on the screen. Immediately, we began to sink into the floor; well actually, it was the platform under our feet, but you get the idea. We went down into the floor into a space that was far too narrow for my liking, but Adams didn't look very concerned or uncomfortable. He just stood there, not saying a thing, as we descended deeper and deeper underground, until there was a small 'bing' and he said, "Here we are," just as the door opened in front of us. Adams stepped out first and I followed, looking around at where we had emerged as we walked.

In contrast to the small entrance room above, this place was huge. It really did feel like an actual cave, although I couldn't tell if it was a natural formation that Rubberman had modified or if it was an artificial construction that Rubberman built himself. It had the same metal plating as the room above, but it had way more features than the room above. Directly ahead of us was a huge computer control panel that had about a dozen smaller screens crowded around a much larger screen. The screens, as far as I could tell, displayed either the news or security footage of the alleyway outside of the grocery store front, although all of the screens were muted. That was good, because I figured that the audio from so many screens playing at once in this place would be deafening. The monitors displaying the news did have closed captioning on, however.

On the right side of the room was an arch that led to what appeared to be another part of the Cave, while next to the arch was a door labeled 'EQUIPMENT AND COSTUMES.' That was probably where Rubberman kept all of the fun stuff, but unfortunately I would not get to look in there at the moment, because Adams led me to the left side of the Cave, where a short hallway with about a dozen doors on each side stood. We walked past the doors--which were marked with words like 'FOOD' and 'CLEANING SUPPLIES' and, rather ominously, 'BOMB SHELTER'--until we reached a door at the end of the hall. Unlike the other doors, this one was made of a beautiful wood, maybe oak or something, and it had the words 'DENNIS PULLMAN' on it in gold lettering. There was also a camera in the corner just above the door, which I figured was probably so Rubberman could see who was on the other side.

Adams knocked on the door and said, "Mr. Pullman? Alex Fry is here to work."

"Come in," came a voice from the speaker in the wall next to the door. "I'm available."

Adams immediately opened the door and entered, gesturing for me to follow. I didn't hesitate to follow him inside, even though I was extremely nervous about meeting Rubberman. I had already met him once before, when he interviewed me for the job, but that was before I became his sidekick. I just hoped that he wasn't too angry at me for being late.

Stepping into Rubberman's office was an experience in itself. The floor was covered with simple wood, as were the walls and ceiling, but more importantly was what adorned the walls. On one side were large posters depicting Rubberman in various poses; some of them showed him in a fighting pose, while others showed him standing with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face as if challenging whoever was looking at him to take him on. There was also a picture of Rubberman shaking hands with the President of the United States, although their smiles looked extremely forced, like they didn't actually like each other all that much.

On the other side of the room was a bunch of shelves with what looked like Rubberman merchandise on them. There were shoes, a baseball cap with Rubberman's logo on the bill, gloves, and even an unopened package of Rubberman brand underwear, disturbingly enough. I recognized most of it because I'd seen it in stores; Rubberman's merchandise was really popular, although I noticed a few things, such as a key chain, that I didn't recognize. Maybe it was new or maybe it was old merch that had been taken off sale at some point. The room also smelled of rubber; not exactly a bad smell, but not one I really enjoyed all that much, though at least it was warmer in here than it was outside.

And sitting behind a desk that was covered with a desktop computer and other Rubberman merch was the man himself, my new boss, and one of the most famous superheroes in America, Rubberman himself.

He was incredibly tall and skinny, far more so than I remembered him being when he interviewed me for the job. He was also in his costume: A blue and white jumpsuit that could stretch with his body. Yeah, I didn't know how that worked, either; maybe the suit was made out of some kind of special material that he developed himself or something. I asked him about it during my job interview, but at the time he just told me that he got it from a company called Super Apparel, although the exact serum for his particular suit was a 'trade secret' and that he couldn't share his exact 'source' in the company with me in case I accidentally told the competition about it. Apparently, there was a big demand in the superhero industry for material that could handle the variety of powers and abilities that supers used and having his own source for such a material must have given him an edge over the competition.

At the moment, Rubberman was sitting at his desk, typing at a computer furiously. And he wasn't typing like a normal person; his rubbery fingers stretched along the keyboard, hitting each key quickly, while a cup of coffee hovered by his side supported by one of his thumbs. I didn't understand how his fingers didn't get all tangled together, but I guess he was just that good.

When Adams and I entered, Rubberman glanced at us and said, "Just a moment. I'm almost finished here. Adams, please show Alex to his seat and then get me breakfast. I'm starving."

"Yes, sir," said Adams.

Adams led me over to a wooden chair that seemed awfully cheap in front of the desk and then left the room without further ado. That left me alone with Rubberman, who was still typing away, his eyes practically glued to the monitor. I wondered if Rubberman's eyes could stretch or not, although even if they could, I figured that probably would not be a very smart thing to do.

Finally, Rubberman hit one last key and then pulled his fingers off the keyboard. He turned to look at me, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, but I was just answering some emails. Finalizing a deal that my agent is making with a toy company to release collectible Rubberman figurines later this year."

"You're getting action figures?" I said in surprise.

"Not action figures," said Rubberman. "Figurines. I actually have a prototype on my desk. See?"

Rubberman gestured at the miniature figurine of himself on his desk that I had noticed earlier. Like Rubberman, it appeared to be made of rubber, although it looked more like those bendable kind of figurines rather than the stretching kind. Its likeness to him was eerily accurate, although it looked unfinished.

Rubberman picked up the figurine and began bending the limbs. "Isn't this just the coolest? When I was a kid, I used to collect figurines just like this. Never thought some toy company would someday be interested in making figurines based off me, though, especially as a tie-in for a movie."

"Movie?" I said. "What do you mean?"

"They're making a movie based off yours truly," said Rubberman. He held up a hand and moved it through the air like he was imagining the movie title in headlights. "Currently, we're calling it Rubber, but I think that Rubberman would be better. It's clearer and more in line with current superhero movie titles, don't you agree?"

"Uh," I said, not sure what to say. "It's ... okay."

To my relief, Rubberman just chuckled. "Ah, Alex, that's a good one. You and I will get along great."

"Yeah, definitely," I said. I hesitated. "But ... you aren't angry that I was late?"

Rubberman blinked. "You were late?" He glanced at his wristwatch. "Ah, so you are. I was just so absorbed by my work that I didn't realize it. But that's fine. You're not nearly as late as my last sidekick used to be, anyway."

I didn't sigh in relief, but I did relax a little. "Oh, thanks. I was worried there for a second."

"No, that's fine," said Rubberman. He peered at me. "What happened to your glasses? I don't remember them being cracked during your interview."

"Oh, I fell on the street and they kind of cracked," I said, touching the frames of my glasses. "It's not a problem, though. I can still see."

"We'll need to get those repaired," said Rubberman. "If you're going to work for me, then you will need to be in tip top shape."

"No, it's fine," I insisted. "I'll just have my parents get me a new pair when I get home. You don't need to worry about it."

Rubberman pursed his lips, but nodded and said, "Fine. You won't be wearing your glasses today anyway, because your costume just came in and it comes equipped with a visor that acts as glasses anyway."

I leaned forward excitedly. "My costume is in? Where is it?"

"In another room on the other side of the Cave," said Rubberman, gesturing at the door behind me. "But don't get up to try it on just yet."

I had already half risen from my seat in my excitement, but I stopped when Rubberman said that. I had been looking forward to wearing my costume the most, but I didn't understand why he didn't want me to wear it now. "Why not? I'm ready."

"Because I want to see your license first," said Rubberman, holding out his outstretched hand (literally; it was stretching toward me like the rest of his body). "I know that Adams has probably already confirmed your identity, but I need to see the license myself. I also want to talk to you about your duties under me before you get started so you know what I need you to do."

Feeling annoyed at not getting able to put on my costume right away, I nonetheless fished my sidekick license out of my pocket and handed it to Rubberman, who took it and looked it over. A smile appeared on his face as he looked up at me and said, "I'm glad to see that the government has approved your superhero name. It's pretty common for them to reject it in favor of something they think is more appropriate or ask us to change it to something else."

I tried not to look disappointed. "I know, but I don't really like it."

"Why?" said Rubberman in surprise as he handed me my license back. "I think that Beams is a great name for a sidekick who can shoot lasers from his eyes. It's short, easy to remember, easy to spell, easy to pronounce, and will look great on merchandise."

"You mean I'll get merchandise?" I said, my feelings of embarrassment evaporating instantly. "Like your figurines?"

"Not right away," said Rubberman quickly, shaking his head. He continued to play with the prototype in his hands. "A general rule in the biz is that sidekicks don't get merch until they've been working for us for a year. No point in spending money creating posters and coffee mugs when your sidekick might quit next week, you know?"

"Oh," I said, my feelings of excitement deflating. "I understand, I guess. Do sidekicks quit often?"

"Not ... often, at least in my business," said Rubberman in a voice that told me that it must have been more often than he'd admit. "But turnover in this industry is pretty high. This is an incredibly stressful business due to the obvious reason that we're basically glorified private police, not helped by the fact that loads of parents hate putting their children in harm's way and usually force their kid to quit when things get too dangerous."

"Sounds like something my dad would do," I said. "He thinks this business is too dangerous even for adults."

"Only if you don't follow government regulation and best practices," said Rubberman. "Trust me, Alex, I won't put you in any dangerous situations just yet. I like to give new sidekicks a trial period of three months; you won't fight any supervillains or criminals, but you will get to train in hand to hand fighting, as well as how to use your powers in combat."

"You mean I won't get to fight supervillains with you?" I said, feeling even more disappointed than before.

"Not yet," said Rubberman. He placed his figurine back on his desk suddenly, a serious look appearing on his face. "Trust me, while this business has its perks, it's also very dangerous. Until I know you can defend yourself, I won't put you in harm's way, no matter what."

I nodded, but I was actually divided about how I felt about that. On one hand, it was the dream of every kid who wanted to be a sidekick to fight criminals and supervillains. That was one of the reasons we liked superheroes so much; they fought bad people all the time and kept us safe, sometimes even safer than the government could.

On the other hand, I really wasn't that much of a fighter. I wasn't fat, but I also wasn't exactly the next Mr. Bicep, either. Every fight I'd ever gotten into as a kid usually ended with me getting beaten down; the only fight I ever won was when I threw sand into the bully's eyes, and even then, he would have pounded me into pulp if the teachers hadn't broken up the fight before it could get real ugly. It was probably for the best that Rubberman wasn't going to let me fight criminals and supervillains right away, though I did feel a little annoyed that he didn't really trust me yet.

"So if I'm not going to be patrolling the streets looking for criminals and saving hot girls from supervillains, what will I do?" I said.

Rubberman pulled out a planner from one of the drawers in his desk and flipped it open. "For now, your responsibilities will be to train in your skills and abilities as a superhero and to do basic community service projects."

"Community service projects?" I said. "Am I going to have to pick up trash on the side of the highway or something?"

"No," said Rubberman, shaking his head. "Instead, you will do things such as rescuing cats that get stuck in trees and volunteering at soup kitchens and other places like that."

I frowned. "That doesn't sound like something a superhero does."

"It's what sidekicks do," said Rubberman. "The point is to get the public comfortable with you. Everyone already loves and trusts Rubberman; however, no one knows who Beams is. In order to establish your reputation and earn the trust of the public, you will need to do charitable deeds around the city."

"Fighting crime seems like a charitable deed to me," I said.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," said Rubberman. He closed the planner shut. "But you won't even get to do that much until later, once I decide to introduce you to the public. Since today's your first day of work, I will have Adams show you around the Elastic Cave so you will be familiar with its layout. After lunch, I will do your first training exercise with you in the Rubber Room."

"Rubber Room?" I said. "What's that?"

"The training room," said Rubberman. "It's where I train and where I train all my new sidekicks. It is designed specifically to handle the wear and tear that superhero training usually causes, so you can go all out if you want."

"Cool," I said. "Will I get paid for all of this?"

"Yes," said Rubberman, nodding. "You will be paid every Thursday, so you will get this week's pay next Thursday."

"Right," I said, nodding eagerly. "And I'm being paid minimum wage, right?"

"Yes," said Rubberman. "That is what we agreed upon during your job interview. And, since this is a part-time position, you will work about twenty hours a week, with Sundays off. But today, you will work a bit longer than usual in order to get you settled in."

I nodded again. Twenty hours a week translated to about three hours a day. I was supposed to come here after school each day to do whatever work that Rubberman needed me to do. It didn't seem like a very demanding schedule to me, but I'd never had a job before, so maybe I would end up regretting it.

But then a question occurred to me and I said, "Will you call me in if you need me in an emergency? Like, say some supervillain attacks Golden City and I'm in school. Will I be able to leave school to help?"

Unfortunately, Rubberman shook his head. "Sorry, but no. Government regulations state that sidekicks are not supposed to be working during school hours unless they are homeschooled or some kind of special arrangement is made ahead of time. I wouldn't do it even if it was legal; I don't want to risk your fellow students finding out your secret identity by having you leave in the middle of class when a supervillain attacks our city."

My shoulders slumped. "So I won't be able to drop geometry if a supervillain robs a bank or something."

"Right," said Rubberman. "Don't be so down, by the way. Remember, your sidekick license can be revoked by the government if you reveal your secret identity to anyone other than your parents or me or Adams. Do you want your license revoked?"

I shook my head as Adams entered the room again, this time bearing a tray with bacon, eggs, and biscuits on it. "No. Still, school doesn't seem nearly as important as protecting the city."

"Protecting the city is my job," said Rubberman as Adams placed the tray on the desk; the food smelled good and made my stomach grumble. "Someday, you will be able to help with that, but for now, I don't want a repeat of what happened to my last sidekick."

"What did happen to your last sidekick, by the way?" I said. "You never said."

Rubberman and Adams suddenly exchanged significant looks as if I had just said a secret code word that only they knew. For a moment I thought that Rubberman was going to shout at me and tell me to leave, though I don't know why I thought that.

But then Rubberman looked at me and said, in his usual tone, "Oh, our partnership just ... didn't work out. I hired him, he didn't do a good job, so I fired him. Happens all the time in businesses in every industry, not just this one. Nothing to worry about."

I may not have been the most socially astute guy, but even I could tell that Rubberman was lying. I decided I would do my own research on the Internet later and see if I could find any details about Rubberman's last sidekick and what happened to him. Maybe it wasn't any of my business, but Rubberman's avoidance of the subject made me curious.

"Anyway," said Rubberman as he sipped from his coffee, "I think we'd done talking for now. Adams, will you please start Alex on his tour of the Cave and give him his costume?"

"Yes, Mr. Pullman, sir," said Adams with a bow. He looked at me. "Mr. Fry, please follow me. Once we are out of Mr. Pullman's office, we will begin the tour."

I wanted to stay and have some of Rubberman's breakfast, but I think Rubberman didn't want me in the room after asking about his last sidekick, so I rose from my seat and followed Adams out of the room. I did glance over my shoulder one last time before I left; the last thing I saw was Rubberman looking at something on his phone, and based on his frown, it probably wasn't good.
CHAPTER THREE

"This part of the Elastic Cave is called Mission Control," said Adams as we walked back into the main part of the Cave where we had entered earlier. He gestured at the huge screens at the end of the room. "That is Mr. Pullman's main computer system. Each monitor displays a different news station, as well as several smaller independent news websites that cover issues such as crime and supervillain activities. Of course, Mr. Pullman also keeps an eye on general business and political trends in order to stay on top of the game."

I nodded as I looked at Mission Control. "Can Rubberman also communicate with people through that system?"

"Yes, sometimes," said Adams. "But he prefers to communicate through his desktop or his phone; they are more private. Still, he holds conference calls through the main system sometimes, although he usually leaves me to monitor the system and give him reports on what is going on in the world today."

"Cool," I said. "How often does he have conference calls? And with who?"

"Oh, various business associates or companies he makes deals with," said Adams, waving off my question. "Nothing that would interest a boy your age, I'm sure."

"Hey, I find business interesting," I said. "Especially the superhero business."

"Yes, I am sure you do," said Adams in a voice that told me that he didn't believe a word I said. "You will probably not spend a lot of time in Mission Control. It's not part of your duties. Instead, you will be spending more time over here."

Adams led me across Mission Control to the arch I had noticed earlier. As we passed under the arch, I glanced at the door labeled 'EQUIPMENT AND COSTUMES' and said, "Is my costume in there?"

"No," said Adams. "It is in your room."

"My room?" I said in surprise. "But I'm not going to live down here."

"By 'room,' I mean merely that it is where you will keep your work supplies while you are working here," said Adams. "There is a bed, of course, but that's only if you wish to take a nap during your lunch break or whenever there is a lull in the work. Otherwise, you will get dressed there at the start of your work day and then get undressed there at the end of your work day."

"You mean I don't get to take my costume with me?" I said in disappointment.

"Of course not," said Adams. "The danger of someone finding your costume and uncovering your secret identity is too great a risk. Mr. Pullman believes it is better for your costume to stay here, where no one other than us could find it, than for you to take it home and risk someone stumbling upon it even if accidentally."

"Gotcha," I said, although I was still disappointed. Still, I couldn't argue with that logic, so I didn't argue the subject any further.

When we passed under the archway, we emerged into another part of the Cave that was identical to Mission Control, except minus the huge computers. To our left was a small kitchen area, with a table with four rubber-soled chairs, plus a sink, fridge, and cupboards; it smelled vaguely of breakfast, probably because Adams had no doubt made Rubberman's breakfast there, although the kitchen was so sparkling clean that it looked like it had been built yesterday. To the right were two doors: one labeled 'BEAMS' and the other labeled 'BATHROOM.' And on the other side of the room was another door labeled 'RUBBER ROOM.' There was also a hatch on the floor near the entrance to the Rubber Room, although it was locked and had no label on it to explain what its use was.

"This part of the Cave is called Home," said Adams. He gestured to the kitchen area. "That is the kitchen, with a fully-stocked fridge and cupboards with all of the food and drinks you need. You need not worry yourself with cooking yourself meals, however, because one of my duties is to provide fresh meals for Rubberman and, now, you."

"Whoa, you mean you're going to cook for me?" I said in surprise. "No joke?"

"No joke," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman does not want you focused on anything other than your specific duties. Besides, I would rather not have a messy boy like yourself mess with the way I have things laid out there."

Messy? Was he only saying that because I looked like I had been lying in the street? I was going to tell him that I only looked messy because I fell, but Adams had already moved onto the next subject.

"These two rooms here are where you will change," said Adams, gesturing at the two rooms on the right side of the chamber. "The one with your superhero name is your room, the one I mentioned earlier. The one next to it is the shared bathroom and shower that we will all use down here. It is stocked with the best soaps, shampoos, and other toiletries necessary in order to ensure a pleasant bathroom experience for everyone."

"So I don't get my own bathroom?" I said.

"Yes," said Adams, nodding. "Mr. Pullman, however, does have a bathroom connected to his office so he can quickly access it without wasting time or disrupting his work flow needlessly."

I supposed it made sense that Rubberman would have his own bathroom, but I still wondered if I could get my own at some point. "Okay, but what about clothes? How do they get washed?"

"There is a chute connected to the bathroom," said Adams. "Merely throw your dirty clothes down that chute and they will end up on Level Two, where they will be washed and cleaned by our automatic washing and drying machines."

"Level Two?" I said in surprise. "You mean there are multiple levels to this place?"

"Yes," said Adams. "The Elastic Cave has three levels, not counting the grocery store entrance above. We are currently on Level One, which is the main living and working area for Rubberman and us. Level Two is where clothes are washed and dried and where other supplies, such as the emergency power generator, are kept. The Rubbermobile is also kept in Level Two and has a secret entrance that allows it to leave the Cave easily."

"The Rubbermobile?" I said. "That thing actually exists? I thought it was just a rumor on the Internet."

"Mr. Pullman doesn't use it often, but it is a real thing," said Adams. "But you are not allowed to drive it. It is Mr. Pullman's vehicle and his alone. Only he has the keys; in fact, you shouldn't even touch it. Mr. Pullman puts a lot of effort into keeping the Rubbermobile spic and span and he would not appreciate it if his sidekick ruined it."

"Well, I can't drive it anyway, since I don't have my driver's license yet," I said, "although I'm working on it."

"Even if you did have a driver's license, you would still need Mr. Pullman's permission to drive it," said Adams. "And let me tell you, in all of my years working for Mr. Pullman, I have never known him to give anyone, even his own sidekick, permission to drive the Rubbermobile. So do not ask him about it next time you see him."

"Sure, man," I said, although deep down I was thinking about how awesome it would be if my first car could be the Rubbermobile. I doubted I could afford it, though, especially working for minimum wage part-time.

"Oh, and one more thing," said Adams. "While the Elastic Case does have Internet and Wi-Fi, you are not allowed to play on your phone while at work. It is fine to keep it on in case of emergency, but you are not allowed to call and text whoever you want whenever you want or play games on it or whatever it is you do with that thing."

"Okay," I said. I patted my phone in my pocket. "I'm not big on texting people anyway."

"Yes, well, keep that in mind anyway," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman dislikes lazy employees who do not do the work he has hired them to do. Use your phone in your off-time if you must, but otherwise keep it in your pocket."

"Can I listen to music on it while I work?" I said.

Adams folded his arms across his chest. "No. No games, no music, no entertainment, nothing. At least, not until you can prove that you have a good work ethic and will not goof off and neglect your duties."

"Don't worry about me, Adams," I said, patting my chest. "I never goof off. Total workhorse here."

"We'll see about that," said Adams. "Anyway, you can see the Rubber Room is directly across from us. You won't go in there until after lunch, when you will do your training session with Mr. Pullman. For now, you must go into your room and try on your new costume and make sure it fits."

I eagerly followed Adams over to the door with my sidekick name on it, but before we entered, I suddenly remembered the locked hatch and looked over at it again. "Adams, you forgot to tell me about that hatch."

"Hatch?" said Adams, stopping and looking at me in confusion. "What hatch?"

"That one," I said, pointing at the hatch near the Rubber Room. "What is it?"

I asked the question pretty casually, but the way Adams stared at me, it was like I'd just asked him for the nuclear codes. He immediately looked away, however, and said, "It's just the place where we store food supplies in case we run out in the kitchen. That way, we do not have to go all the way down to Level Two to restock our kitchen."

"Why is it locked, though?" I said. "That seems kind of unnecessary if it's just where extra food supplies have been put."

"To keep out the mice," said Adams. Now, get into your room and try on your suit. I will wait out here until you come out."

I figured that there was probably more in the hatch than just 'food,' but at the same time, I was more interested in checking out my new costume than I was in finding out whatever Adams and Rubberman were actually hiding down there. I'd been most looking forward to checking out my costume when I got this job; it was one of the things I'd always enjoyed about superheroes. When I was a kid, I always liked dressing up as Prime Man, the richest and most famous superhero in the world. Of course, it was always a cheap Halloween costume from a dollar store, because my family was never rich enough to afford the nice stuff, but I expected my real superhero costume to be made of much higher quality material than what I had as a kid.

I entered my room and closed the door behind me. It was a pretty small room; there was a bed in one corner with a black blanket on it, along with a writing desk and a dresser next to it. To my left was a closet, which was empty, although based on the bare coat hangers inside it, I figured that I was supposed to put my normal clothes in there while I worked. The room itself was pretty bare; either Rubberman was too cheap to decorate it or he'd made it intentionally bare so I could decorate it however I wanted. Either way, I was going to change it to fit my personal tastes, because I planned to work here for a while.

But I really didn't care about any of that, because my attention was drawn to the suitcase lying on the bed. I ran over to the suitcase, which was emblazoned with a logo that resembled a caped superhero standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and popped it open. I picked up the costume within it and held it up, causing the costume to unfold by itself.

It was a full body spandex suit, similar to what Rubberman wore, except it was yellow and green and didn't seem to be as stretchy. On the chest, above where my heart would be, was an insignia that resembled a stylized 'B,' which was probably meant to represent my sidekick name, Beams. I was actually kind of disappointed by the colors; I thought that it might be red and black instead, but maybe Rubberman didn't think those colors would work for me.

The costume itself felt lightweight, but also sturdy enough to handle the rough and tumble world of crime-fighting, although I didn't know what the material was. That was when I noticed a helmet in the suitcase, fitted snugly inside a foam cast. I put the costume down and picked up the helmet, which felt firm but lightweight in my hands. The helmet looked kind of like a space helmet, except with a black visor that totally obscured my face. It seemed to be about the right size for my head, so I immediately starting putting on my costume.

It was surprisingly easy to put on the costume; after stripping my street clothes off, all I had to do was unzip the back and fit my arms and legs into the holes designed for them. I thought the costume was going to be very tight, because superhero costumes always looked tight to me, but even though it conformed to my body, it didn't feel tight or restrictive at all. I moved my arms and legs up and down and twisted them in different directions, but it was almost like I was wearing nothing at all. I didn't even have to wear shoes; my feet slipped into the bottom of the pant legs, which felt soft and padded, but also had treads on them to give me traction.

Standing in front of my room's mirror, I thought I looked pretty spiffy in my costume. I finished the ensemble by putting on my helmet, though I had to take off my glasses first so I could fit it on my head. I expected that to make my vision blurry; however, when the helmet slipped onto my head, I found that the black visor behaved just like my glasses and helped me to see just as easily as if I had not taken off my glasses at all. The helmet fit my head perfectly; there was even a hole in the bottom for my mouth, which made it easier to breathe, although that was the only exposed part of my face. I discovered that the mouth part could be closed or opened, which gave me a way to protect my mouth.

Looking at myself in the mirror again, I thought I looked like a real superhero now. Well, technically sidekick, although I wondered how the visor would affect my eye beams. Based on how the visor felt, it seemed to me like it was made out of some kind of refracting glass, although I didn't know for sure. The suit also came with some shoulder pads, knee pads, and elbow pads, probably to keep me safe in a fight, so I put them on, although they made me feel a bit silly. Still, they didn't restrict my movement, so I didn't complain.

Stepping out of my room, I saw Adams was still there, standing as if he had nothing better to do than wait for me to show him my costume. Now that I think about it, that was probably true.

"I see you put your costume on," said Adams. "Tell me, how does the suit feel? Does it fit well? Is it too tight? Or too loose?"

"No, it's perfect," I said, flexing my arms to show him how easily I moved. "When you guys took my measurements for the order, I didn't think the company would do such a great job making it."

"Super Apparel specializes in designing costumes for superheroes and their sidekicks," Adams said. "There are other companies that provide similar services, but Mr. Pullman has always preferred Super Apparel due to their attention to quality and their great customer service. He will be pleased to learn that your costume fits; for growing boys like yourself, that can be a problem sometimes."

I nodded, running my hands along the smooth surface of my suit. "Yeah, it's nice. But how does my helmet work? Can I still fire my eye beams from it?"

"You can," said Adams. "Your visor is made of a special refracting glass that not only lets you fire your eye beams as easily as if you were not wearing a helmet at all, but also makes them even stronger than normal. That's why you must be careful about where and when you fire your eye beams; like when shooting a gun, you must always be aware of what is behind your target and never aim at anything you do not wish to destroy."

"I know that," I said. "So what else does my costume do?"

"It's bulletproof, for one," said Adams. "Not that I would suggest testing that, obviously, because you'd still be hurt if you got shot. Also, it is fireproof and insulated, so whether you are in hot weather or cold, your costume should remain at a comfortable temperature. It is also waterproof and cannot be easily cut, but watch out for bladed weapons anyway, because a sufficiently sharp sword or knife should be able to cut it."

"Sword or knife?" I said in confusion. "This isn't medieval Europe, you know."

"Some supervillains have been known to carry swords," said Adams with a shrug. "In any case, I'm just warning you about your costume's strengths and weaknesses so you will not have to discover them in the heat of battle."

Then Adams pointed at my helmet. "And your helmet has a built-in communicator, which is connected to Mr. Pullman's communicator. The communicator has a distance of about five miles and is a way for you and Mr. Pullman to stay in contact when you are separated during battle."

I felt a button on the side of my helmet. "Cool. Is it active now?"

"Yes, but don't use it," said Adams, shaking his head. "Rubberman will get annoyed if you use it now and interrupt him while he's working."

"This suit is pretty fancy," I said, patting my suit. "I always knew that superheroes get cool costumes, but I didn't know just how cool they were."

"They're a necessary part of the business," said Adams. "In the old days, most costumes were simple homemade things that needed constant repair from the fights that superheroes got into. Super Apparel was the first company to begin to actively market to superheroes and now the superhero costume business is a thriving industry much like any other. Some superheroes even own or have stock in certain companies."

"Does Rubberman own a superhero costume company?" I said.

"No, he does not," said Adams. "He has, however, considered starting his own at some point, although given all of the other projects he has on his plate at the moment, I think it unlikely that he will turn his attention to that any time soon."

"Right," I said. "Well, what do I do now? Are we going to see the other levels of the Elastic Cave?"

"Not yet," said Adams. "Most of your work will be on Level One, so you don't need to see the other two levels right now. Mr. Pullman specifically told me that you do not need to see them yet."

"But if I'm going to be working here, then shouldn't I get to see them?" I said. "You know, to make me familiar with the Cave's layout and stuff?"

"You will see them in time, Mr. Fry, but for now, you must limit your activities to Level One," said Adams, "until you receive permission from Mr. Pullman to see the next two Levels."

I sighed in disappointment, but then said, "Okay, so what are we going to do instead?"

Adams opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, a voice from the other side of the room said, "We're going to get you started on your training."

I looked over and saw Rubberman walking toward us. His proportions were normal now, although he did seem slightly taller than he should have been, as if he was stretching himself a little. I wondered if Rubberman was naturally short and he used his powers to make himself look taller. That's what I'd do if I had his powers; it'd probably help me get more attention from the girls.

"Mr. Pullman?" said Adams in surprise. "What are you doing out of your study already? Mr. Fry's training session is not scheduled until after lunch."

Rubberman waved off Adams' surprise. "I got my work done early, Adams, so I decided to get started on Alex's training right away. That way, Alex will have the rest of the day to learn about the other things he will need to do while working here. Besides, I've been sitting in front of a computer all morning and really need to get some exercise in so I don't become as stiff as a board."

"What other things do you need me to do?" I said interestedly.

"You'll find out soon enough," said Rubberman. "By the way, what do you think about your costume? It looks like it fits."

"Yeah, it does," I said. I put my hands on my helmet. "But I don't understand why I need a helmet."

"To protect your secret identity and to keep your head safe in the heat of battle, of course," said Rubberman. "Remember, if someone finds out about your secret identity, you will have your license revoked, so make sure that you never leave this Cave without it."

"Why don't you wear a helmet, then?" I said. "Doesn't that leave your head exposed?"

Rubberman punched the side of his own head, causing his head to rock back and forth for a second. "I'm a rubber man, so I can handle pain better than you. And speaking of fighting, let's get your training session started. I want to see how well you can fight and where you need to improve if you're going to fight criminals and supervillains with me some day."
CHAPTER FOUR

In contrast to the rest of the Cave, the Rubber Room was totally bare. It was nothing more than a large, wide-open room with bright florescent lights shining down on us. The floor was soft under my feet; it wasn't exactly rubber, but they clearly had used some kind of padded material for the floor, as well as for the walls and ceiling, from what I could tell.

The floor had a large square painted on it in the center. Two small boxes had been painted on either end of the floor, boxes that Rubberman and I stepped into, which kept us an equal distance apart. According to Rubberman, he had designed this square in order to help us stand in the most optimal places for the training sessions. I wasn't sure what he meant by 'optimal,' but I figured Rubberman knew what he was talking about, so I didn't question him about it.

As for Adams, he stood off to the side in a small metal box protruding out of the wall near the entrance. That was apparently where visitors could watch training sessions; the box was designed to handle all sorts of attacks, because superhero training sessions had a tendency to cause a lot of collateral damage even when the superhero in question was being careful about using his or her powers. I could tell that the box had been through some pretty tough times, if the dents and scratches along its surface were any clue. I had no idea where the bullet holes or burned spots were from, however, because I was pretty sure that Rubberman didn't use a gun or own a flamethrower (unless he had some other powers he wasn't telling me about, that is).

"Okay, Alex," said Rubberman, putting his hands on his hips and drawing my attention to him. "Or I should say Beams, since that's your sidekick name."

I grimaced. "I still don't like it."

"You'll just have to get used to it," Rubberman replied, "although I'll call you Alex for this training session. Out in public, though, we go by our superhero names only."

"Because we don't want our licenses revoked," I said. "Right?"

"Partly," said Rubberman. "A superhero's identity doesn't need to be secret, but a sidekick's does, according to the law. Also, it really helps for brand recognition."

"Right," I said. "Brand recognition. Gotcha. So what will we do today?"

"We're going to test your powers first," said Rubberman. "You didn't show me them during your job interview, but I understand that you can shoot laser beams from your eyes."

"Yeah," I said. "They're pretty powerful, too. I almost blew up a car with them once."

"And how long have you had them, exactly?" said Rubberman. "I know you told me during your interview, but I can't recall it at the moment."

"Six months," I said after a short hesitation. "I haven't used them very much, though, because they're so destructive."

"Six months," Rubberman repeated approvingly. "Interesting. Most sidekicks don't have powers, so I'm curious to know why you decided to become a sidekick and not your own superhero with powers like those."

"I'm sixteen," I said with a shrug. "I'm too young to start a business. Besides, I just want to save up for a car, since I'll be going to college when I turn eighteen and I'll need some wheels to get around."

"You're never too young to start a business," said Rubberman, wagging a finger at me in a joking manner. "When I was your age, I was already on my second business. But I understand. The superhero business is a hard one to break into and not everyone is cut out for it. Heck, even being a sidekick is difficult and not for everyone."

Rubberman said that last sentence with a note of sadness. I wondered if he was thinking about his previous sidekick, which made me wonder what the heck happened to that guy. Rubberman had mentioned firing him because he was 'lazy,' but that didn't seem like something to get sad about.

Regardless, I said, "Now that we're done discussing my life choices, can we get onto the training now?"

"Not yet," said Rubberman. "How much training have you had with your eye beams?"

I shuffled my feet. "Uh, like I said, I haven't used them much and I don't know anyone who could train me, so I've never had any real formal training using my eye beams."

"I figured as much," said Rubberman. "Most superheroes usually learn their powers on their own without any guidance or mentors. At least in the early days of the industry, that was the case, but many superheroes today started out as sidekicks, just like you, and learned the business from older and wiser people than they."

"Really?" I said. "I didn't know that."

"Sure," said Rubberman. "That wasn't how I got started, but many of the big players got their start that way. Mr. Star, for example, used to be the sidekick of Phantom before striking out on his own and making it big, although some sidekicks merely inherit an already-existing business and use the superhero name of their mentor. For brand recognition, you understand, and because it's easier than starting their own."

I nodded, but then a thought occurred to me. "Does that mean that I could become the next Rubberman someday?"

Maybe I was imagining things, but Rubberman did not look very pleased when I said that. "Perhaps. I have no interest in a successor at the moment, but maybe in the future I will. It depends on whether you do a good job as a sidekick or not."

I nodded again, but I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to become the next Rubberman. He was a really rich and successful superhero, after all; if I took over his business, maybe I wouldn't need to go to college at all. Maybe I would be so rich that I could even just sit back and relax and never have to work another day in my life. I didn't become a sidekick with that goal in mind, but if that was a genuine possibility, then I had to give it some serious thought. If I played my cards right, I could become Rubberman's successor.

"Now, I would like to see a demonstration of your powers first," said Rubberman. "I want you to blast a target with your eye beams."

"Target?" I said. I looked around at the bare room. "You don't mean Adams, do you?"

"Of course not," said Rubberman. "Here, let me show you what I want you to hit."

Rubberman pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pressed one of the many buttons on it. Immediately, a portion of the ceiling slid away, revealing a hole, from which a simple red and white target board lowered. It came down in front of the wall to my right, hanging from a robotic arm very still.

"Just shoot your lasers at that," said Rubberman, gesturing at the target. "Don't worry about hurting anything. I've got a million of those target boards in storage, so if you end up utterly destroying it, I can easily replace it."

I gulped. I distinctly remembered what happened the last time I had fired my eye beams. The stench of burning metal, the huge explosion, the cries of shock from my family ... No one had gotten killed, thankfully, but it had been such a terrifying experience that I wasn't so sure I wanted to use them again. Of course, maybe I should have thought about that before I became a sidekick.

It was too late to quit now, however; and besides, that had happened because I didn't have control over my powers. And what better way to gain control over my powers than through steady practice? Dad always said that practice makes perfect, after all.

I turned to face the target. Although I hadn't used my powers in a long time, I still remembered how to use them. I focused intently on the target, staring at it so hard that I forgot about everything else.

Heat began to build up in my eyes; it was an uncomfortable feeling at first, but I got used to it pretty quickly. I wasn't sure why my eyes didn't burn up when I used my powers; I figured that the serum I drank must have made other changes to my body to make sure that I wouldn't go blind the minute I tried to shoot lasers from my eyes.

Finally, the heat became unbearable, so with a shout, I unleashed a blast of energy from my eyes at the target. I heard a loud roar all around me, followed by the target literally exploding. And not only did the target explode, but the entire robotic arm holding it up blew up as well, sending chunks of metal and wiring flying everywhere. The explosion tore through the wall behind it and the floor below it, leaving smoking craters on both.

I had put my hands over my head when the explosion happened, but when I looked at my body, I saw that I had only gotten some dust and ash on me. Other than that, I had not been hurt, although there were a handful of small cuts along the costume that exposed my skin, though none of them were big enough for me to worry about.

I heard a grunt and looked over at Rubberman. He was still standing where he had been moments ago; however, his body was now stretched and twisted in all kinds of weird ways. He looked kind of like a human pretzel now, but I realized he must have contorted his body like that to dodge the debris from the explosion.

I didn't know how to read his expression. He looked shocked, but also maybe a little angry. Was he really so surprised at this that he couldn't speak? I thought he would have seen far more impressive displays of powers from other superheroes before, but I really was that special.

"Uh, I'm sorry," I said. I glanced at the smoking remains of the robotic limb, which hung limply from the ceiling. "You wouldn't also happen to have a million extra robotic limbs lying around, right?"

Rubberman suddenly shook his head, like he was trying to regain his bearings. As his body returned to its normal proportions, he said, "With that kind of power, I'm surprised that you almost blew up a car. Any car hit with that much energy wouldn't be much better off than the robotic limb."

"I'm sorry," I said, looking down at my feet. "I didn't mean to destroy the entire thing. I just--"

"Was that at full blast?" said Rubberman, interrupting me as if I hadn't said a thing. He sounded less angry and more curious.

That made me think it was safe to look up at him. Rubberman had his hands on his waist, but other than that he didn't look upset. He stroked his chin with one hand, as if my powers had piqued his curiosity. Maybe I wasn't going to get fired after all.

"Yes," I said. I rubbed the back of my head. "I don't know if the refracting visor made it worse or not."

"Why did you fire it at full power like that?" said Rubberman. "Can't you control the strength of your blasts?"

"No, I can't," I said. I tapped the side of my helmet. "Like I said, I haven't had much practice. I don't really know how to control it."

Rubberman continued stroking his chin. "Interesting. Not surprising, but interesting."

"Not surprising?" I said. "What do you mean?"

"Most people don't know how to control their powers at first," said Rubberman. "When I first got my powers, I would sometimes twist my arm so much that I wouldn't be able to untwist it without severe effort. Thankfully, I had a mentor who helped me figure it out."

"But you said that you didn't start out in the superhero business as a sidekick," I said.

"You can have a mentor without being a sidekick, you know," said Rubberman. "Anyway, it looks like we'll need to figure out how to control your powers first. Specifically, we'll have to work on helping you control the intensity of the blasts; I can see several situations where being able to shoot a pinpoint beam of energy at a target could be useful."

"Am I going to get paid for this training?" I said.

Rubberman nodded. "Yes. And because this is going to be extra training, I will pay you time and a half for every hour I train you. We'll devote about an hour each day to training your powers; the other hours we will spend on other things."

I couldn't believe it. First day at work and I was already making time and a half? James would be jealous.

"Let's try that again," said Rubberman as the robotic arm retracted back into the ceiling; I was surprised it was still functioning after that. "For the next hour or so, I will have you shoot targets, but you should try to control the intensity. Make each blast slightly weaker than the one before it."

"Won't that end up causing damage to the Rubber Room, though?" I said.

"That's the point of the Rubber Room," said Rubberman. "Besides, Adams is very good at cleaning up after a training session, so when you come back to work on Monday, it will look like--"

Rubberman was interrupted by a loud ringing noise coming from his person. He immediately pulled a phone in a Rubberman-branded case out of his pocket, glanced at the number, and then answered it, saying, "Hello, Chief Williams, what's the problem?"

I couldn't hear what the voice coming from the phone was saying, but based on Rubberman's darkening expression, I doubted it was anything good.

"I understand, officer," said Rubberman. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't let any of your officers directly engage him. He will kill them."

On that ominous note, Rubberman hung up the phone and looked at me with an unusually serious expression. "Alex, I'm sorry, but we'll have to postpone your training. I have to go."

Rubberman was already heading toward the door, so I quickly followed him as I said, "What? Why? What was the call about?"

Rubberman stopped and turned to look at me, his expression even more serious than before. "A supervillain is attacking Golden City and I have to stop him. Alone."
CHAPTER FIVE

"Alone?" I said as Rubberman, Adams, and I exited the Rubber Room and emerged into Level One. "Why can't I come with you? You might need backup. That's what sidekicks are for, after all."

"Too risky," said Rubberman, shaking his head as he walked across the room toward the elevator. "You're not ready for prime time yet, Alex. You will need to stay here while I go deal with this guy."

"But my eye beams are pretty powerful," I said as we stopped in front of the elevator. I gestured at my visor. "I could blow him into kingdom come easy."

"That is precisely what we are worried about," said Adams, causing me to look at him in confusion.

"What Adams means, Alex, is that you need to stay here," said Rubberman as he pressed a button labeled 'LEVEL TWO.' "Fighting supervillains isn't anything like the movies make it out. There's collateral damage, pedestrians, laws regulating use of force, and a whole host of other things you need to take into consideration when fighting even a generic street thug. And the laws for sidekicks are even stricter."

"Even stricter?" I said. "How?"

"You can have your license revoked for killing a crook, for one thing, unless it was in self-defense," said Rubberman. "Also, I can be held personally liable for anything you do and I can't afford to have you blow up someone's home or car and then get sued for it."

"What if it's accidentally?" I said. "They can't sue me if I did it on accident, right?"

"People can and will sue you for literally anything," said Rubberman as the elevator dinged and the doors opened before us. "It's best not to risk it."

Rubberman and Adams entered the elevator. I was going to join them, but Adams held out a hand and said, "Sorry, Mr. Fry, but you must stay on Level One."

"You mean I can't even see you go?" I said in disappointment.

"You'd just get in the way," said Adams. "We don't need you getting in the way slowing us down as we prepare Mr. Pullman to leave."

"I'm sorry, Alex, but Adams is right," said Rubberman. "You need to stay here while we're away. You won't be alone forever; once I leave, Adams will come back up to supervise you and give you your duties for the day. Until then, however, stay put and don't touch anything; although if you're hungry, feel free to grab a snack or drink from the fridge."

Adams looked horrified at the idea of me rifling through the fridge unsupervised, but then the elevator doors closed and I was all alone. I watched as 'LEVEL TWO' lit up, an indication that they were already there and getting ready for Rubberman to drive the Rubbermobile. I knew it wouldn't take them long to set Rubberman up and get him out of here, but that didn't stop me from feeling annoyed anyway. All that talk about making me familiar with the Cave and yet they didn't want me coming with them even just to see Rubberman off? It was crazy, but there you go. Then again, maybe Rubberman was afraid I would accidentally blow up the Rubbermobile; given how I told him I almost blew up a car once, that wasn't an entirely unreasonable worry.

Shaking my head, I turned around and looked at the Cave. I wondered what I should do to pass the time before my stomach grumbled, a reminder of the meager breakfast I had earlier. I decided to see what they had in the fridge; based on what Adams told me, there was bound to be something good in there.

Making my way back to the second half of the Cave, I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the handle. But before I could pull it open, I heard a door open and close somewhere close by. And it was not the elevator doors, so it couldn't have been Adams returning from seeing Rubberman off.

I listened more closely. I didn't hear any other sounds. Maybe I had just been imagining things. But that seemed unlikely; the Cave was very silent, so it wasn't like there were a whole bunch of other sounds I could have mistaken for that of a door opening and closing. That meant I heard something. Or someone.

But who could it be? There were only three people in the Elastic Cave at the moment: Me, Adams, and Rubberman. Right now, Rubberman and Adams were on Level Two getting the Rubbermobile ready, while I was standing in front of the fridge on Level One. Adams had not mentioned anyone else working for Rubberman; therefore, if someone else besides one of us was here, that meant they may not have been friendly.

But maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Just because I thought I heard someone doesn't mean I did. I could have just been imagining things. How could someone else get in here, anyway? Adams made it sound like this place is pretty secure. It was physically impossible for someone to get in here without Adams or Rubberman knowing. If someone else was in here, they would have introduced me to them already.

On the other hand, though, I didn't think I would be able to eat if I believed that someone else was in here with me, someone who might be dangerous. The opening and closing door sounded like it came from Rubberman's office or from that area of the Cave at least; I would go and check. Just a quick peek into his office, and if no one was there, then I would come back to the kitchen and get something to eat.

Ignoring my rumbling stomach, I made my way from the kitchen to the main hallway. I did not see any footprints or anything else to indicate that anyone other than one of us had been here; however, that meant nothing, because they could have been very sneaky. I checked the doors to the rooms in the main hallway, only to discover that most of them were locked. That was what I expected, of course, given that they are supposed to be locked.

But when I got to Rubberman's office, I discovered that the door was unlocked. That sent off alarms in my head. Rubberman didn't seem like the kind of guy to leave his office door unlocked when he left. That meant that someone must have picked the lock or forced it open somehow. A deep sense of dread fell over me; it reminded me of the time a robber broke into our house when I was little. Both of my parents had been outside at the time and for some reason had left me alone, maybe because I had been taking a nap or something. Luckily, the robber had run when he saw me (maybe because he was afraid I'd call the police or something), but I distinctly recalled how terrified I had felt when I saw a man who clearly was not my Dad and who was not related to me in any way standing in the doorway of my room with a gun in hand. I shivered just thinking about it.

That's how I felt now. There was someone in here who was not working with Rubberman, someone who might very well be dangerous, maybe a criminal or something. Perhaps they were even a supervillain of some sort; Rubberman had probably earned the ire of many supervillains over his years in the business and it wouldn't surprise me if one of them managed to locate and break into the base to kill Rubberman.

I thought about turning around and running back to my room; if there really was a supervillain in there, then I would be safer in my room, at least until Adams returned and I could tell him about it. Of course, Adams didn't have any superpowers of his own, so I didn't know what he would be able to do against a real supervillain, but my parents had always taught me to let an adult know if someone was somewhere they shouldn't be and that I should not handle these types of problems on my own. It was for my own safety, especially because I wasn't very experienced in fighting supervillains.

Yet I still didn't know for sure if there was a supervillain in here or not. I didn't hear anyone on the other side of the door, so maybe Rubberman just left his office door unlocked in his hurry to train me. And even if there was a supervillain, maybe I would be able to take him by surprise; he might think there was no one in here or that I was distracted by something else. If I kicked open the door and shouted, he might be so surprised that I could take him down with one laser blast. Granted, I might end up destroying Rubberman's office, but if I managed to defeat one of Rubberman's enemies, I didn't see how Rubberman could remain angry at me for very long.

Taking a deep breath, I kicked open the door and, stepping inside, shouted, "Halt, supervillain! Or I--"

I abruptly stopped speaking as soon as I saw that the office was totally empty. There was no one at the desk or standing in front of the shelves full of Rubberman merch. The computer was still on, but it seemed to have gone into sleep mode since no one was using it.

I looked to the left and to the right, but did not see anyone. Nor was there anywhere for someone to hide, except behind the desk, but the desk was too small for someone to hide behind, except for maybe a very small child, but I doubted that a small child had managed to break into the Cave. Small kids could get into lots of places you wouldn't expect them to be able to, of course, but the Elastic Cave was not one of those places.

I rubbed the back of my head. Maybe I had misheard something after all. My grumbling stomach agreed, so I turned around to leave and go back to the kitchen, but not before I heard something above me and looked up in time to see a foot coming at my face.

The foot slammed into my helmet's visor; the visor protected my face, but the impact of the blow still knocked me flat on my back. And before I could get up again, someone fell down on top of me and pinned me to the floor with one of their feet.

I now found myself staring at the masked face of a ninja. And he was drawing a long, jagged knife from his belt, a knife that looked sharp enough to slit my throat as easily as paper.
CHAPTER SIX

The guy really was a ninja, or looked like one anyway. He wore black, body-fitting clothing, which showed off his surprisingly muscular body, as well as a black cloth mask that completely hid his face. The only parts of his face that were visible were his eyes; they were a striking blue, making me think of the open sky. I couldn't determine his age, but he must have been in his twenties at least.

Not that any of that mattered to me, though. My focus was on the huge knife he had pulled out from seemingly nowhere. It actually looked more like a small sword than a knife, but regardless, I knew he was going to be introducing it to me soon enough.

Panicked, I focused on my eye beams. Heat built up in my eyes so rapidly that it was actually painful, but I didn't care. I shot a full laser blast at the ninja; I was so panicked that I aimed for his face instead of his knife.

But the ninja instantly jumped backwards off me and out of the office, causing my eye beams to blast apart the ceiling above and send debris falling down onto my helmet. I scrambled to my feet, but then the ninja's knife/sword came out of nowhere, aiming directly for my shoulder. I moved my head in the way, however, and the knife struck my helmet.

The knife was not sharp enough to pierce my helmet; however, it hit so hard that it felt like getting punched in the face. I staggered backwards, which turned out to be a lucky move that allowed me to dodge another slash from the ninja's knife.

Without thinking, I tried to slam the door shut on the ninja, but he jammed his knife between the door and the frame. I still tried to hold the door closed, but the ninja shoved it open, sending me staggering backwards again as the ninja entered the room with surprising speed. He slammed the butt of his knife against my helmet, causing me to stagger against the desk. The ninja was coming at me again, so without thinking I grabbed something from the desk behind me and threw it at his face.

That thing turned out to be none other than Rubberman's little rubber figurine, the one he had showed me before. The figurine flew through the air and struck the ninja in the face, which must have taken him by surprise, because he dropped his knife and put his hands on his face like I'd hit one of his eyes.

Seeing an opening, I threw a punch at him, but the ninja caught my fist and shoved me backwards. I stumbled backwards and hit the desk, while the ninja picked up his knife again and kicked aside the Rubberman figurine. Raising his blade once more, the ninja advanced on me, his sky blue eyes wide with rage.

Knowing I couldn't beat this guy in a fight, I instead rolled over the desk, just narrowly avoiding Rubberman's computer monitor, and landed behind the desk. I didn't have time to formulate a plan, however, because I could hear the ninja still advancing toward the desk. And given how there was only a solid wall behind me, I couldn't just run away.

I yanked open one of Rubberman's drawers, the bottom one nearest me, and found a Rubberman paperweight inside it. Picking up the paperweight, it was heavy and solid, exactly what I needed, so I stood back up and threw the metal paperweight at the ninja.

This time, however, the ninja's reflexes allowed him to dodge the paperweight. But I took advantage of his distraction to pick up Rubberman's computer mouse and throw it at him as well. It actually hit him in the face, once again causing him to stumble, only this time I didn't try to fight him. Instead, I ran around the desk and made for the door, figuring that if I couldn't beat the ninja in a fight, then I would find a safe place to hide until Adams returned.

But I didn't get very far before I felt the ninja's hand grab the back of my neck and pull me back. I crashed onto the floor, bashing the back of my head against the wooden flooring, which left me too dizzy to get up or do anything else.

Then I saw the ninja's knife coming straight at me. There was no time to dodge, no time to think. Only to act.

And, without another thought, I fired another laser blast from my eyes at the incoming knife. The laser blast tore apart the knife and even struck the ninja's hand, causing him to finally shout in pain in an incredibly deep voice. The ninja stumbled away, grasping his wrist, while I got to my feet, though I had to use Rubberman's desk for support because I was still kind of dizzy from being knocked around so much.

There was now a new hole in the ceiling, although it wasn't as big as the first one. Not that I paid any further attention to it, because I turned my attention to the smoking remains of the ninja's knife lying on the floor. My laser blast had totally destroyed the knife; it didn't even look like a knife. It looked like a piece of twisted, partially melted metal. It probably didn't smell very good, either, but my helmet seemed to filter out all smells because I couldn't smell the smoke rising from it.

Then I looked at the ninja. He was gripping his hand, which looked terrible now. Although the knife had taken the brunt of my lasers, his hand hadn't exactly escaped unscathed. The glove was partially burned off, revealing an ugly burn on his skin that reminded me of those pictures of burn victims I looked up on the Internet once. It looked like the ninja could still use his hand, but it must have been very painful, because he was groaning in pain and acting very un-ninja-like. That was the very first time I'd ever harmed a human with my powers; it was an odd feeling.

But I didn't focus on it. Instead, I pointed at the ninja and said, "Okay, ninja, looks like I win. If you give up and tell me who you are and what you're doing here, I won't shoot you with my lasers again."

I spoke as authoritatively and confidently as I could, which was kind of hard because I was so tired. Still, I figured that that was what Rubberman or some other superhero would say in my situation, especially since my enemy was unarmed.

Instead of giving up, however, the ninja turned and ran out the door much faster than someone with such a burn should have been able to. I was briefly taken aback, but then shook my head and ran after him. If that ninja got away, then I might get fired for not only letting him get away, but also for causing so much damage to Rubberman's office. Besides, I had a feeling that that ninja stole something important, even though I hadn't seen him carrying anything that didn't belong to him.

Rounding the corner, I slammed into someone and we both fell on our behinds. At first, I thought I'd run into the ninja, so I prepared my eyes to fire another laser at him, but when I looked again, I saw that it was Adams. The older man was sitting on the floor opposite me, rubbing his head and wearing a very annoyed frown on his face.

"Mr. Fry, what are you doing in Rubberman's office?" said Adams in annoyance. "And why do I smell burning metal?"

"Adams?" I said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got back from seeing off Mr. Pullman in the Rubbermobile," said Adams. He rose to his feet, dusting off his suit. "But don't change the subject on me, young man. What happened here?"

I also rose to my feet and tried looking around Adams. "Did you see the ninja?"

"Ninja?" said Adams. "What ninja? I didn't see any 'ninja' in here."

"But he just left," I said, looking up at Adams. "Surely you passed him on your way here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Adams with a huff. "Now get out of my way and let me see what you did to Mr. Pullman's office. And why are you covered in plaster?"

I tried to tell Adams not to enter, but he just shoved me aside and went into Mr. Pullman's office. His scream was so loud that I was pretty sure that it could be heard even from the streets above us.
CHAPTER SEVEN

Adams was so furious that I expected to see smoke rising from his ears. Once he was done screaming, he forced me to get a broom and pan and clean up Rubberman's office. He also had me put all of the things I'd knocked over back into place, all under his angry, watchful eye. I tried to explain to him about the ninja, but Adams wouldn't hear anything I said. He told me that he would make sure that Mr. Pullman would know about this first thing once he returned from dealing with the supervillain threat reported by the police. So I stopped trying to explain anything to Adams; instead, I dutifully swept up the ceiling chunks and debris and tried to put things back into the same state they had been before the fight as best as I could. Adams didn't say anything while I worked; he just stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, silently watching me. I found his silence even worse than his screaming, to be honest.

While I cleaned, I was certain that I was going to get fired. I didn't know how much it was going to cost Rubberman to fix up everything, but I doubted it would be cheap. And he had given me very explicit instructions to not do anything while he was away. I figured that once he came back and saw all of the mess I'd made, he'd fire me on the spot. I really didn't look forward to going home today and telling my parents that I got fired on my first day at work. Nor did I relish all of the teasing I'd receive from James, either.

Once I finished cleaning, Adams told me to go to my room and stay there until Rubberman returned. He didn't lock me in, but I was under the impression that if I left the room, Adams would finish what the ninja started. He did give me a small lunch of a peanut butter sandwich and a bag of chips, plus a glass of water, but aside from that he didn't do or say anything else. Having removed my helmet and put it by my side on the bed, I sat there eating silently. I checked my phone for any messages or missed calls, but no one had called or texted me today. I contemplated calling home and telling my parents that I was basically fired, but I decided that I wanted to at least get officially fired by Rubberman himself before I made any big announcements. I didn't want to jump the gun.

I waited in my room for what felt like an eternity, although it had only been about forty minutes according to my phone before the door opened and Adams stuck his head inside. His expression hadn't changed at all; in fact, he looked angrier than ever. I sat up in my bed, feeling even guiltier than before, even though all I had done was sit on my bed and eat lunch for the past forty minutes.

"Mr. Fry," said Adams, his tone laced with anger, "Mr. Pullman has returned and wishes to speak with you about your future employment with us."

"Did he beat the supervillain?" I said. "Is he okay? How did he--"

I abruptly stopped speaking when Adams's glare became even harsher. It felt like he was firing invisible laser beams at me from his eyes, so I just slid off the bed and followed Adams out of my room.

Rubberman sat at the kitchen table. His mask lay on the table next to a tall glass of water that he sipped from. His hair, which normally was combed back and neat, looked messy and out of place now. And, even though he was only 30, he looked much older, based on his haggard face. Based on the way he winced when he moved, I could tell he must have taken a pretty serious beating from whoever he'd fought, especially when I noticed that the chest part of his costume was ripped, revealing the white under suit beneath.

I sat down on the other side of the table opposite him, while Adams stood just behind Rubberman to his right, like a soldier awaiting orders from his general. Rubberman didn't smile when he looked at me, but he didn't scowl at me like Adams, either. He just looked tired, even though he had only been gone for an hour at most.

"Uh," I said, breaking the ice. "You look ... bad."

Rubberman didn't change his facial expression. He just ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that's what happens when you fight supervillains. I'm used to it, though it does start to take a toll on your body after a while, even when you have a rubber body like mine."

"Who was the supervillain you fought?" I said, although I felt stupid asking the question.

"The Demolisher," said Rubberman. He rubbed his forehead. "He and I have clashed before. His gimmick is super strength combined with fists like hammers, which he uses to demolish his opponents; hence his name. He was robbing a bank and had taken hostages. Of course, he's not very smart, so I managed to beat him fairly easily, but he still got in more than a few good hits."

"Did he kill anyone?" I said.

Rubberman shook his head. "No. He injured a lot of people, but nothing lethal or serious. The bank is a mess, though, and it's going to cost them a lot of money to fix all of that. But the Demolisher is now in police custody and will be shipped to prison, probably for life, so I don't think he'll be a threat to anyone for a while."

I nodded, but my guilt finally overrode me and I suddenly leaned forward and said, "I am so, so sorry for destroying your office. There was a ninja and I--"

I shut up as soon as Rubberman held up a hand. Based on how he was still rubbing his forehead, I wondered if he was suffering from a bad headache or something.

I thought Rubberman was going to start shouting at me, but instead he said, "Calm down and start from the beginning. Tell me what happened. Leave out no details."

Rubberman, again, did not sound angry. He just sounded tired, but also a little curious. I took that as a good sign, so I told Rubberman and Adams exactly what happened, just as I remembered it. Neither of them interrupted me, not even to ask questions, but I could sense that Adams didn't believe a word I said. Rubberman was a harder read; he just seemed to be listening without judgment.

Once I finished my story, neither Rubberman nor Adams spoke for at least a minute. I didn't know why. Were they just thinking it over? Or were they thinking about how to respond? Maybe Rubberman was thinking about exactly how he was going to tell me that I was fired and would never be allowed to come back here again.

I couldn't handle the silence, so I said, "Rubberman, I'm sorry. You probably think I'm just making it up to avoid getting into trouble and you're going to fire me, so I'll just go and grab my things now. I'll leave my costume in my room; maybe you can give it to your next sidekick."

I pushed my chair back and stood up, but then Rubberman held up a hand and said, "Stay."

He spoke very authoritatively, so I immediately sat back down. I started tugging at the sleeves of my costume; it was a nervous habit I'd picked up over the years. I also pushed the frame of my glasses up the ridge of my nose, which was how I remembered I was wearing glasses and explained why Rubberman and Adams looked so odd through my cracked lenses.

Finally, Rubberman said, "So a ninja tried to kill you in my office."

"Yes," I said. "But I know that's no excuse for wrecking your office, so--"

"I wasn't done talking," said Rubberman. "Please don't respond unless I ask you a question."

I immediately shut my mouth. I still tugged at the sleeves of my costume.

Rubberman continued speaking in the same level tone as before. "Fixing the damage that you caused to my office will cost a lot of money. It's not the worst damage I've ever had to repair--in fact, it's quite cheap in the grand scheme of things--but it is an expense I didn't expect to have to pay this month. Thankfully, I have a special bank account set aside for paying for these kinds of repairs, so I won't have to worry about taking money from other expenses."

"Special bank account?" I said. "Do you mean you--"

"Alex," said Rubberman. "What did I just say?"

I immediately shut my mouth again. I wondered if I could use my laser beams to melt myself into a puddle; at least that way, I wouldn't have to endure Rubberman's disappointed look.

"But yes, this type of damage is to be expected in this business," said Rubberman. "You'd be surprised at how often supervillains break into superhero's bases and tear them apart. It's something that every professional in this business anticipates and prepares for. We also anticipate accidents caused by powers, either from ourselves or from our sidekicks. So I won't be docking this from your pay."

I breathed a sigh of relief, but I still didn't say anything.

"But I won't be paying you time and a half for your training," said Rubberman. "You will just get normal pay."

I looked at Rubberman in hope. "So I'm not fired after--" I cut myself off when I remembered what Rubberman said about not speaking.

"No, you won't be fired," said Rubberman. "I believe your story about the ninja because Adams showed me the melted knife. I also found evidence on my computer that someone had stolen files from it and I know you didn't steal it."

I looked at Rubberman with a questioning look, because I still wasn't allowed to ask questions.

"That was the first thing I looked at when I got back," Rubberman said. "I found evidence that someone had copied and tried to delete some very important files. Whoever did it wasn't very smart, though, because I have all my files backed up, so it was easy to restore them. Still, it's pretty clear to me that this was a case of corporate espionage."

I bit my lower lip, so Rubberman said, "You can talk now if you want."

"Corporate espionage?" I repeated in a breathless voice from holding it in for so long. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that one of my competitors sent a spy to steal some important information from me in order to undermine and possibly even cripple my business," said Rubberman.

"You mean another superhero hired someone to steal from you?" I said.

Rubberman nodded grimly. "Or someone else who wants to destroy my business."

"Is that ... common in this industry?" I said.

"More common than you'd think," said Rubberman with a sigh. "We superheroes like to put on a cheery picture for the public, but the truth is that this business is just like any other. There's a ton of competition and sometimes this competition causes us to act in ... ethically questionable ways, to put it lightly."

"Who do you think could have done it?" I said. "Someone you know?"

"I can think of a few people who would be more than happy to cripple my business," said Rubberman. He scowled. "But I never thought they'd try to kill my own sidekick. I can tolerate a lot of things, but threatening the lives of my employees is not one of them."

"What are you going to do?" I said. "Sue them?"

"No," said Rubberman. "I don't even know for sure who did it. But I will find out one way or another, even if that means bringing down the full wrath of the law upon them."

"How will you find out who did it?" I said.

"That's not for you to know," said Rubberman. "What is for you to know, however, is your future with us."

"But you said you weren't going to fire me," I said quickly. "Right?"

"Right, but that doesn't mean we're not going to make some changes," said Rubberman. "It is my fault that you had been left alone and had to defend yourself from that thief. I want to make sure that you don't end up in that situation again."

"How so?" I said.

"First off, we're going to make training you our top priority," said Rubberman. "Every day for the next week or so, we will spend an hour and a half training your powers. I see great potential in your eye beams, but at the moment they're more of a problem than a help. So we will focus on making sure that you can control them so you don't end up causing more damage than is necessary in a fight. I've trained sidekicks in using their powers before, so I know how to do it."

"Okay," I said. "What else will we do?"

"We'll also enhance the security of the Elastic Cave," said Rubberman. "I have no idea how the ninja got in here without our security systems informing us. Adams, I want you to run a diagnostic check on the security systems and see if you can find any flaws that the ninja may have exploited to get in."

"Yes, sir," said Adams, nodding.

"In addition, I will give you more training in actual hand to hand combat," said Rubberman. "Not every supervillain or criminal can be handled with eye beams, so you will need to learn how to fight in other ways as well."

"Like boxing?" I said.

Rubberman frowned. "Boxing?"

"Yeah," I said. "I've always wanted to learn boxing. Will you teach it to me?"

"I can't teach you boxing, but I can teach you general self-defense techniques," said Rubberman. "Given how you managed to survive against that ninja, even though he was obviously aiming to kill, I think you have potential. Was that your first fight?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I've fought my brother before, although he didn't try to kill me."

"I figured as much," said Rubberman. He stroked his chin in thought. "You have the right instincts. We just need to refine them."

"All right," I said. "Are there any other changes you will need to make?"

"No, that's about it," said Rubberman. "I still need to think over this situation and investigate the stolen files. That will help me narrow down the list of suspects who would want to steal from me."

"All right," I said. "What will we do for the rest of the day?"

"I think you should go home," said Rubberman. "You can come back on Monday after school. Home is safer than the Cave at the moment, so that is where you need to be right now."

"But I just got here," I said. "Can't I stay a bit longer, even if only to learn a few more things about the Cave?"

Rubberman, however, shook his head. "No. You've learned the basics and you can learn the rest on Monday after school. For now, Adams and I will need to secure the Cave and do the necessary research to figure out how this happened."

My shoulders slumped. I wanted to argue with him more, but Rubberman was the boss, so I said, "Okay. Guess I'll be leaving now."

"Remember to leave your costume," said Rubberman, gesturing at the door to my room behind me. "It will be here when you get back and it will be nice, clean, and repaired, too."

I nodded, stood up, and turned around and left. I was relieved that I was not going to get fired; however, I was now worried about that ninja. Would he come back to finish the job? I doubted it, because if what Rubberman said was true, then the ninja really only wanted to steal some of his files and had only tried to kill me so there wouldn't be any witnesses. Now that I had told Rubberman, though, there wasn't any reason for the ninja to come after me.

I hoped.
CHAPTER EIGHT

I rode my bike through the streets of Golden City slowly, partly due to how exhausted I was from my fight with the ninja, but also partly due to the fact that my glasses were still cracked. I had to go slowly so I wouldn't accidentally run into someone or something else, although I took a back route that would allow me to avoid most of the people and traffic. I didn't stop anywhere to grab a bite to eat, mostly because I wasn't hungry, but also because I just wanted to get home. I thought I saw a ninja hiding in every shadow and on top of every building, but whenever I looked, I would see nothing, except for maybe a dog or a cat every now and then.

I still didn't relax or slow down until I arrived at my house. It was a typical suburban house located on the outskirts of the city amid dozens of similar homes built years ago. I had been born and raised in this house, so just seeing it was enough to make me feel safe and secure. Of course, I didn't feel entirely safe until I passed the gates and locked them firmly behind me; granted, the fence was short enough that anyone could jump it if they wanted, but the sound of the lock closing made me feel safer anyway. I looked up and down our street one last time before I turned and walked up to the front porch. No one else was out on the street at the moment except Mr. Tyson, one of our neighbors, an elderly man who lived across the street from us. He was tending to his garden and didn't even seem to be paying attention to me, which was pretty usual, since Mr. Tyson always seemed to be in his own world, at least whenever I interacted with him anyway.

Turning around, I took my bike up the front steps and leaned it against the porch's railing; I didn't bother to lock it up, since my neighborhood was pretty safe and crime rates were extremely low. I also doubted that the ninja, if he was still after me, would try to take my bike; it wasn't very valuable and wouldn't help him get me anyway.

Before I entered the house, I looked over at the driveway. Dad's car was gone, probably because he had gone to work (although given that today was a Saturday, I didn't know what Dad would be doing at the high school where he worked as a coach). James' red pickup, however, was still parked in the driveway, which meant that James was staying home today, rather than going out on a date with a new girlfriend or something. I didn't understand how James always managed to have a new girlfriend pretty much every time he visited from college; in fact, I was shocked when he came back home this time without any girlfriend, and when I asked him about it, he just blew off my question and claimed that he was taking a 'break' from girls for a while.

That made even less sense to me. How do you take a 'break' from girls? I had never had a girlfriend of my own. Yes, I had a crush on Greta, but that was all. It wasn't that I was creepy or a weirdo; I just found it hard to approach girls. I kept asking James for tips on how to pick up girls, but he always seemed to ignore me whenever I asked, and when he didn't ignore me, he'd just tell me to figure it out on my own because it wasn't 'rocket science.' Maybe so, but that didn't mean it was intuitive or obvious, and Dad wasn't much help despite having been married to Mom for 20 years now. The only thing I could figure out was that girls liked guys with money and cars; that's what I hoped my sidekick gig would get me, assuming I didn't accidentally blow up the Elastic Cave during one of my training sessions, anyway.

Shaking my head, I entered the house and shouted, "Mom! I'm--"

I stepped on something on the floor and looked down to see that I had walked into a string of some sort. At first, I had no idea what it was until I noticed that the strong went above my head. I heard something metal tip over and I looked up just in time to get a bucketful of cold water in my face.

The water splashed all over me, instantly soaking me and my clothes. I cried out in shock and almost slipped, but I grabbed onto the door for support, although I didn't feel very supported at the moment. The floor underneath me was wet, too, and my glasses were now covered with water, which I would have wiped away if my own shirt hadn't also been wet.

A loud laugh--more like a snort--came from above, causing me to look up at the top of my stairs. Through my wet lenses, I saw the grinning and chuckling face of my older brother James, his brown hair draped around his face like a curtain, chuckling like he had just pulled off the prank of the century. My eyes began to heat up, but I caught myself before I could turn James into slag and I snapped, "James, what the hell? How did you know I would be back home early?"

James clapped excitedly. "I didn't. I actually expected it to be Dad, but the fact that you got the bucket instead is even better."

I scowled. Even though James was three years older than me, he sure acted like a big kid at times. That made his acquisition of different girlfriends an even bigger mystery; why would any girl like such an immature guy? I didn't go around playing dumb pranks like this, except with James and that was only occasionally, too.

Regardless, I heard Mom shout from the kitchen, "James! I heard the bucket fall. Mop up that mess right now before your father gets home."

I was pleased to see James' smug grin instantly vanish. James may not have been afraid to upset me, but he always did what Mom told him to do even now that he didn't live in the house any longer. And he never disobeyed Dad. Ever.

So in a few seconds James was down next to me, mopping up the water from the floor. I don't know where he got the mop from; maybe he kept it on hand so he could clean up his prank like this quickly.

"And Alex, I can hear you dripping water on the floor, so go to the bathroom and change into some dry clothes," said Mom. "And try not to drip over everything on your way up there, either."

"Yes, ma'am," I shouted back.

I made my way past James--who was back to chuckling at his 'brilliant' prank--and up the stairs, though I had to move slowly so that I wouldn't slip in my wet shoes. I got a dry set of clothes from my bedroom and changed in the bathroom quickly. I also grabbed my extra pair of glasses that I kept on hand for whenever my main pair got cracked; they were slightly cheaper than my main pair, but they would do until I could get my prescription refilled.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I was about to go back to my room and take a nap before I noticed James leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was grinning as usual, an expression that just made me feel really annoyed at the moment.

"James, I thought you were downstairs mopping up the water," I said. "What are you doing up here?"

"Already cleaned it all up," said James. He shrugged. "It wasn't nearly as wet as it looked. Plus, I work fast; it's why I'm always helping my friends with their homework, because I finish my own so quickly that I always have time to help my friends with theirs."

"Is that why they called you Lightning Fist when you were a sidekick?" I said with a smirk.

I was satisfied to see James' grin vanish, replaced by an annoyed frown. "What did I tell you about calling me by that name again?"

"You didn't like it," I said, "which is why I keep calling you that."

"Well, it's a lot cooler than Beams, anyway," said James, rolling his eyes. "Beams ... what a stupid name."

"How did you know my sidekick name?" I said in shock. "Only Mom and Dad--did Mom and Dad tell you?"

"Duh," said James. "Mom couldn't stop talking about your new job this morning. She's real proud of you; of course, she was proud of me when I was sidekick, but not so proud when I quit."

I nodded. I wasn't surprised to hear that, because Mom was a big superhero fan herself. "Well, I'm going to my room now. I'm really tired."

I tried to go down the hall, but James got in my way, blocking off the hallway. I forgot how big he was; not fat big, but muscular. Unlike me, James didn't have any superpowers, but he was really strong and was a great martial artist, which was why he tried out being a sidekick for a while. I knew he worked out, but every time he came home, he seemed bigger and more muscular than before. I stepped back when he got in my way, looking up at him in annoyance.

"Could you get out of my way now?" I said. "I want to go back to my room."

James shook his head. "First, tell me what you're doing home early. Mom told me that you were going to be at work for the rest of the day."

"An accident," I said. "Now, if you will excuse me--"

"Alex?" Mom's voice came up from the kitchen. "Are you dry yet? Get down here. I want to hear all about your first day at work for Rubberman!"

I cringed. I was not in the mood to talk about my first day at work; however, I also didn't want to tell Mom no, because I knew how she got whenever I refused her requests. I also caught a whiff of Mom's cooking; oatmeal cookies, based on the scent, which made me want to go down and talk to her, if only so I could get a taste of those cookies.

So I turned around and walked down the hall and down the stairs back to the first floor, with James going back into his room. I reached the kitchen in seconds, where I found Mom pulling out a fresh batch of oatmeal cookies from the oven. They were not the only batch of cookies she'd made, however, because I instantly spotted an entire pile of such cookies placed on a large plate on the kitchen table. Mom beamed at me when she saw me; she didn't look nearly as annoyed as she'd sounded earlier, when she'd told James to mop up the floor and me to dry myself.

"Alex," said Mom in a bright voice as she placed the cookie sheet on top of the oven. "I see you're both hungry for cookies." She frowned and adjusted her own large glasses as she looked at me closely. "Alex, is that a cut on your cheek?"

I touched my right cheek. I hadn't realized it, but there was indeed a small cut on my cheek, although it felt healed now. I realized that I must have gotten it from the ninja; maybe he'd somehow cut my face during the fight. Or maybe I had gotten it when I crashed my bike into the street; that was more likely, given that I hadn't been wearing my Beams helmet when I fell.

"Oh, it's nothing, Mom," I said as I entered the kitchen. "Just a scratch is all."

"Did you get it while working with Rubberman?" Mom said, turning to face me with a bright smile on her face. "Or was it an accident?"

"It was ... an accident," I said as I picked up one of the cookies and stuffed it in my mouth; its taste exploded in my mouth, though I kept talking. "It's fine."

"Why are you home so early?" said Mom as she turned off the oven and removed her oven mitts. "I thought you were going to be working for Rubberman all day."

"He let me come home early because of something that happened at his base," I said. I tried not to look at Mom when I said that, hoping that she might not inquire more into what happened there.

Of course, I should have known better, because Mom frowned and said, "What do you mean, 'something happened'? Take a seat at the kitchen table and tell me all about what happened. I'd love to hear it."

Reluctantly, I grabbed a handful of cookies and sat down at my usual spot on the table. Then I told Mom what happened; not every little detail, of course, but the general events that happened after I left the house. The largest thing I really left out was when I embarrassed myself in front of Greta; I have no idea why, given how that was probably the least weird thing to happen to me today, but I just felt embarrassed just thinking about it. I hoped that Greta wouldn't remember that when I saw her in school on Monday. Maybe she'd be too busy with her classes to even talk to me.

At first, Mom looked really excited about hearing about my work with Rubberman. She even asked me to describe my costume, which I did, albeit with not a whole lot of enthusiasm because I still thought it looked dorky and weird.

But all of Mom's excitement and enthusiasm vanished in an instant when I told her about my encounter with the ninja. I tried to make it sound as non-scary as possible, using the most casual language to describe the ninja's attack. Unfortunately, that seemed to make it even worse, because Mom's eyes just grew wider and wider with fear, as if I was telling her that I'd jumped off the Empire State Building without a parachute.

"You were almost killed by a ninja?" said Mom when I finished telling her my story. She looked like she was about to faint. "On your first day of work?"

"Mom, it's not that bad," I said. "I didn't get too badly hurt. I actually managed to hurt the ninja with my laser beams. He's probably soaking his burnt hand in some cold water right about now or something. He won't come after me again."

I only said that to calm her down, because frankly I didn't know if the ninja would come after me again or not.

Not that that seemed to make any difference to Mom, however. She staggered backwards slightly, leaning against the kitchen counter, her hands held together so tightly that they looked like they were going to fuse into one formless blob. She sat down on the kitchen stool and put a hand on her head like she was getting lightheaded.

"Wow, you fought a real ninja on your first day as a sidekick?" said James all of a sudden. I started and noticed he was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. I hadn't heard him come up, but I guess he must have come down from his room at some point while I told Mom my story. "My first day as a sidekick wasn't nearly as exciting. That's cool. Twisted and dangerous, but really cool, too, bro."

"It's not 'cool,'" said Mom. She rubbed her forehead. "I mean, I know that being the sidekick of a superhero is a dangerous profession, but I thought that your first fight would be under Rubberman's supervision. But from what you said, it sounds like Rubberman completely abandoned you and left you to fend for yourself."

"Mom, Rubberman didn't know that the ninja was even there," I said. "No one did, actually, until the ninja showed up."

"So?" said Mom. She was starting to sound angry now, rather than fearful. "Rubberman should not have left you alone for even a minute. That was extremely irresponsible of him."

"He knows that already, Mom," I said. "It's nothing to get worked up over. Rubberman told me that he's not going to leave me alone again and he is going to focus on my training so I can defend myself in case I find myself in that situation again."

"I'm tempted to make you quit and get a different job in a safer environment," said Mom. She stood up. "I will call Rubberman right now and have a talk with him about this."

Mom made a move to walk over to her cell phone, which lay on the kitchen counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. But I bounded from my chair and stood in between Mom and her cell phone, spreading my arms as widely as I could to prevent her from going around me. Mom stopped and looked at me in disbelief.

"Mom, that would be a bad idea," I said. "I still want to work for Rubberman. He's really smart and I think he can teach me how to use my eye beams without blowing up stuff accidentally."

"Why do you need to learn how to use your eye beams at all?" said Mom. "Maybe you should just forget about your powers and get a job that doesn't require putting teenagers in danger."

"It's not that simple," I said. "Besides, you were really excited about me working for Rubberman earlier. I thought you were a big superhero fan."

"I am, but that doesn't mean I like or approve of the actions of every superhero," said Mom. "I thought that Rubberman was responsible and conscious of the law. It sounds to me like he cares more about himself than your own safety."

"He's not like that at all," I said. "You're not being reasonable."

"How am I supposed to be reasonable when my youngest son was nearly killed on his first day of work?" said Mom. "Move. Now."

I stood my ground. "You didn't act like this when James got into his first fight as a sidekick."

"That's because James didn't fight an actual ninja all by himself," said Mom. "Now move out of the way. I intend to call Rubberman right now and let him know that you will no longer be working for him in any capacity until you graduate high school."

Before Mom could push me out of the way, a large hand rested on her shoulder. Mom and I looked over to see that the large hand belonged to James; again, I had not heard him come closer during my confrontation with Mom. Maybe James was actually a ninja in disguise or something.

"Mom," said James in a cool, calm voice. "There's no need to get so emotional about this. You know how dangerous being a sidekick is. It isn't like Alex picked a fight with that ninja or Rubberman just held the door open for the ninja, after all."

"But Alex still nearly got killed," said Mom, although I noticed that she didn't sound as angry as before. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Wait until Dad gets home and tell him about it," said James. "Remember, Dad is the head of the house, so you need to at least get his opinion on this before doing anything. By then, you should be calm enough to think rationally; right now, you're so overwhelmed with motherly love for Alex that you aren't thinking as clearly as you normally do."

I said nothing, mostly because I had been in this situation before. James was always great at calming down Mom whenever she got emotional; I didn't know how he was so good at it, but I figured it had to do with his skills at picking up girls. I had to admit, though, that I didn't expect him to help me here. I knew very well that James didn't think much of the superhero business and thought that he might be okay with Mom calling Rubberman to tell him that I wasn't going to work for him anymore. I wondered what James' motive for helping me was.

Mom still looked distressed, but at the same time, I could see rationality returning to her eyes. She started to breathe normally as she said, "James, I think ... I think you're right. I shouldn't rush a decision like this. It is wiser to wait for your father to come back home from work and tell him about it before I do anything hasty."

I raised an eyebrow, but still said nothing. It seemed like James had just hypnotized Mom, which made me wonder where he picked up such skills from. I made a mental note to ask him later.

James nodded in an understanding way. "Yeah, see? You're feeling better already. Now, why don't you go and finish putting away the oatmeal cookies while Alex and I go to the living room and play video games?"

"Yeah ..." said Mom, who sounded a lot more calm now. "Sure, you two go and have fun. But as soon as your father gets home, I will make sure that he knows about this first thing."

"Of course," said James. He looked at me. "Alex, want to come sit down in the living room with me and play video games like when we were kids? I can't even remember the last time we played games together."

Still not knowing what James' game was, I nodded and said, "Sure. I could use a game to take my mind off things anyway."

James nodded again, still smiling, and then led me out of the kitchen. We entered the living room, which was one room down from the kitchen, and then sat down on the sofa. Well, I sat down on it; James sat in Dad's old recliner, pulling the lever back to make it lean backwards. He folded his hands behind his head and looked at me again, this time with a more serious expression than before.

"Well?" I said. I glanced at the TV and the video game consoles underneath it. "Are we going to start playing or--"

"We're not playing video games," said James. "I just said that so Mom would leave us alone."

"Oh," I said, feeling like an idiot again. "Right. Why did you convince Mom to wait until Dad gets home? I didn't think you liked superheroes that much."

James shrugged. "You're right. I hate the superhero business. Being a sidekick is the worst. Constantly on the move, putting yourself in danger, getting mobbed by the press ... it's ridiculous. I have no idea why it's even legal. And when I have kids, I'm going to make sure that none of them even think about becoming a sidekick."

"You didn't answer the question," I said. "If you think that about superheroes, why not just let Mom make me quit being a sidekick?"

James sat forward in the recliner and locked eyes with me. "Because you're my little brother and big brothers have to watch out for little brothers. Mom shouldn't be making that kind of decision for you. Whether to continue working for Rubberman or not should be your choice and your choice alone. Can't stand people who try to make choices for other people, even if they're my own parents."

I blinked. "Wow, James, that's the most sincere expression of brotherly love I've ever heard from--"

"Also, I want you to owe me," James continued, like I hadn't said anything. He grinned. "Did you really think I'd do it just because I'm the greatest big brother in the world?"

Of course not, but I didn't say that aloud. Instead, I said, "What do you want, James?"

"Nothing, yet," said James, shaking his head. "But those eye beams of yours ... they could be useful in the future, maybe for a prank or something. I just want the great sidekick Beams to owe me in case I need you to do me a favor."

"For free?" I said.

"It's not free if you're paying me back for saving your job," said James. His eyes drifted to the living room entrance. "Of course, I could go back and convince Mom that she should call Rubberman to discuss your future employment with him ..."

"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hands. "I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just as long as it doesn't put my secret identity at risk or is illegal or anything."

"Well, I can't guarantee the legality of whatever I might ask you to do, but sure, I won't put you in a situation where you might lose your license," said James with a wink. "I know how important it is to keep your identity a secret, so you don't need to worry about that."

I sighed in relief. "Good. So do you actually want to play video games now or--"

"Nah," said James, pushing the recliner's foot down and standing up. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I've got a date at ten and I can't be late, so see you later."

"But I thought you were taking a break from girls," I said as James left the room.

"College girls," James said with another wink. "Working girls, on the other hand, are a totally different game."

"How so?" I said.

"You'll understand when you get older," said James. "Or laid. Whichever comes first."

Before I could think of a snappy comeback to that, James was gone, leaving me feeling slightly embarrassed and grateful, as I usually did whenever I interacted with James. I supposed that it was good of him to keep me from losing my job, but now I worried about whatever he might ask me to do later on. Given his penchant for pranks, I doubted it would be anything good.

But that was something I'd have to worry about in the future. Right now, my biggest concern was what Dad would say once he heard about my first day of work. Knowing how he was already predisposed against superheroes, I didn't think it would be hard for Mom to convince him to take her side on the issue.
CHAPTER NINE

When Dad got home later that day, he and Mom sat down and talked about my first day of work. I didn't sit with them; instead, I stayed in my room, pretending to browse the Internet on my phone, but actually straining my ears to try to catch whatever they were talking about. Unfortunately, because my room was on the second floor, I could not hear much, especially because Mom and Dad were not speaking very loudly, although I did hear a phone ringing before it was answered. I could barely focus on anything because I was so worried.

Then I heard a knock at the door and said, "Yes?"

"It's me," said Dad's voice, slightly muffled by the door. "Can I come in?"

I put down my phone and sat up. "Yes."

The door opened and my Dad entered. He looked pretty much like he always did; red polo shirt plus a pair of jeans. Dad looked kind of like me, except taller and stronger and more athletic. He also didn't wear glasses, not that that meant that his vision was great or anything. He just wore contacts instead. I thought about getting contacts myself at some point, but I was too lazy to learn how to put them on or take them off, so I stuck with my normal glasses (although given how inconvenient glasses were in a fight, maybe it would be smarter to learn how to wear contacts).

Dad's appearance didn't interest me much, however. I was paying more attention to his face; he looked tired, probably from work. I hoped to catch a glimpse of what he and Mom were going to do in his face, but all I could tell was that Dad didn't seem very pleased.

"Hi, Dad," I said, making a smile that I hoped was charming, although I had a feeling that it just looked awkward. "How was work?"

"Good," said Dad. He cross his arms over his chest, like he usually did whenever he was going to have a talk with me. "But that's irrelevant right now. I want to talk with you about what happened at your job today."

I gulped. "Didn't you already talk with Mom about it?"

"I did," said Dad. "She told me what happened, but I wanted to hear about it from you because she didn't know all the details."

So I told Dad what happened at my first day at work. Dad listened well; it was one of the things I liked best about him, his willingness and ability to listen to me and James whenever we talked to him about something. Of course, I also dreaded it, because he never forgot anything you told him, which made it harder to trick him sometimes. He was harder to trick than Mom, anyway, and he was about the only person I knew who was immune to James' persuasion techniques, which I suspected were due to the fact that Dad and James were pretty similar in terms of personality and mindset.

When I finished telling Dad my story, he did not say anything at first. That reminded me of Rubberman, who had had the exact same reaction after I told him about the ninja. Did all older guys do this or was it just some kind of freaky coincidence that Dad and Rubberman reacted the same way?

"I'm glad you survived that, Alex," said Dad after a prolonged silence. "It sounds to me like that ninja was aiming to kill."

"Only because I attacked him," I said, hanging my head. "Rubberman says that the ninja probably just stole some files from his computer. If I hadn't gone to investigate, the ninja might not have tried to kill me."

"Probably," said Dad. And that was all he said; it was another habit of his, where he'd just give a one word answer and expect you to keep talking.

I looked up at Dad again. "Am I going to have to stop working for Rubberman? I know how you feel about superheroes. And if I have to quit, then I have to quit, but I really don't want to."

Dad didn't answer right away. He had a thoughtful look on his face now. "Back when I was your age, my first job was a paper route. It was a pretty safe job. I didn't even have to worry about the dogs that would sometimes bark at me when I dropped off the newspaper on their property. I certainly didn't have to deal with any ninjas or supervillains or anything like that."

I knew what answer was coming, so I braced myself for Dad to tell me to quit and look for another job elsewhere.

That was why I was surprised when Dad said, "And I really would prefer you to be in sports; however, after giving this matter some consideration, I think you should go back to work for Rubberman on Monday."

I looked at Dad in shock. "What? Really? You aren't going to call him up and tell him I'm not going to work for him anymore?"

"Of course not," said Dad. "I considered it, but during our talk, Rubberman called and we talked for a few minutes. He explained some of the measures he was taking to prevent such a situation from happening again. Your mom and I both agreed that they would work, so we decided not to have you quit."

"Rubberman called you?" I said. "I didn't know he would do that."

"Neither did we," said Dad. "We were surprised when he called, but I have to admit that it improved my opinion of him. He told us that he took full responsibility for the problem and that he was going to make sure it would never happen again. He also told me that he was going to make sure that you learned how to defend yourself, both with your eye beams and your fists."

I sighed in relief. "That's a relief."

"I would still prefer if you get another job," said Dad with a shrug, "but Rubberman seems like the kind of boss that a kid your age needs. I remember my first boss was just like Rubberman in terms of his attitude toward business and I learned a lot from him, lessons that have helped me to become successful in life. I figure Rubberman will be able to teach you those same lessons."

"Thank you," I said, putting my hands together. "I thought--"

"But I told Rubberman that if that happened again, we would not let you go work there ever again," Dad interrupted. "We also asked him to promise not to put you in danger until you could control your powers reliably and could defend yourself in a fight. He agreed to both conditions, so you will be able to go back to work on Monday after school."

I already knew that, given that Rubberman had told me much the same thing before I left work today. Still, it was good to hear that Mom and Dad were on board with it. I had been worried that they might not approve of even that much.

"But you will still need to be careful," said Dad. "Don't get cocky or careless. Rubberman may make sure that you don't end up in a fight, but that doesn't mean you can just act like everything is going to be okay."

"Don't worry, Dad," I said. "I'll be fine. I'm not going to go looking for ninjas. One is more than enough for me."

"Good to hear," said Dad, nodding. "Now, I'm going back downstairs to watch TV and get some food. Your mom is cooking dinner and it should be done soon."

"Okay, Dad, I'll be there," I said, giving him the thumbs up. "Don't worry about me."

Dad nodded again and then left the room, leaving me alone once again.

Once Dad was gone, I laid back in my bed and sighed in relief again. I was surprised at Dad allowing me to keep working for Rubberman, but I guess Rubberman must have been more convincing than I thought. I suddenly felt a whole lot lighter than before, as if a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Things were starting to look up for me and now I couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday after school. I was looking forward to my training sessions in particular; I was starting to think that my powers might not be such a curse after all. Maybe I would finally not have to fear blowing up the house anymore accidentally.
CHAPTER TEN

On Monday, I rode my bike through the streets of Golden City on my way to my school, Harold Golden High, before classes started. Unlike my first day of work, I was pretty confident that I was going to be on time, because I had set my alarm for the night before and I had managed to take a shower and eat a good breakfast before I left the house. James had seen me off; even though he was supposed to go back to college today, he had stayed over Sunday in order to hang out with his new girlfriend. He didn't tell us who she was, which was kind of annoying, but honestly pretty typical for James, who usually didn't introduce his girlfriends to us until the last minute. Besides, I always felt jealous whenever he showed his new girlfriend, so I was happy that he was not yet going to introduce her to us.

I could have taken the bus to get to school; however, school was only a ten minute bike ride, so I never saw any reason to ride the bus unless it was really hot or really cold or it was raining hard or something. Golden City's weather was usually pretty temperate year round, but on the few occasions I had to ride the bus, it was like being trapped in a prison bus with a bunch of screaming monkeys throwing stuff everywhere. Maybe that was being unfair to my classmates--after all, monkeys only acted out because they couldn't talk, not because they were dumb--but it made me really glad that I could just bike to school. And, once I saved up enough money from my job, I would be able to drive to it in a car as well.

I had not heard from Rubberman over the weekend, but that made sense, because I wasn't supposed to come back to work until Monday. I did wonder what he and Adams did while I was away; did they still fight supervillains and criminals? Or did Rubberman spend all his time in his office making new deals for merchandise and playing with the toys based off him? I guessed I would get a chance to figure out when I went back to work on Monday. I hadn't see any news of supervillain attacks over the weekend, so business was probably pretty quiet at the moment.

It wasn't long before I arrived at Harold Golden High, which was named after the founder of Golden City, Harold Golden. I wasn't the first student there; school buses were unloading students, who were climbing up the front steps in an attempt to get to their classes on time, while other students who came on bikes like me were putting their bikes on the bicycle racks near the school's entrance. Only a handful of students actually came on bikes, however, and by the time I reached the rack, those few students had already gone into the school itself. Although it was early morning, the sound of kids talking and walking and buses rumbling along was quite loud, loud enough to wake up anyone in the houses near the school. I also saw a few students walking from the burger joint from across the street, Beejay's Place, which was probably where they had gotten their breakfast for the morning.

I just finished putting my bike up when I heard a familiar voice shout, "Alex!"

I looked over in the direction from which the voice had come to see a short and stout guy about my age hurrying over to me from one of the buses, his backpack hanging over his shoulders. There was no mistaking that blue baseball cap or black jacket for anyone other than my best friend, Franklin Maddox.

"Hi, Frank," I said as Franklin approached. "What's up?"

Franklin stopped before me, huffing and puffing slightly. Even though he had not walked from a very far distance, Franklin still seemed tired out. That may have been because he was fatter than me. And no, I'm not saying that to be mean. Unlike some people, Frank isn't sensitive about his weight and is usually the first to joke about it. Besides, it wasn't like I was much better; while I wasn't fat, I was really skinny and not very athletic, so the two of us went together pretty well.

"Not much," said Frank, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "How was your weekend?"

I opened my mouth to tell him about my new job, but caught myself before I said even one word. Even though Frank was my friend, I was still not allowed to tell him my secret identity; otherwise, I would lose my license and my job. That also meant I couldn't brag to the other kids about being Rubberman's sidekick; but maybe that was for the best, because there were some pretty mean kids in my school who didn't take kindly to kids who bragged about anything.

"Eventful," I said as I placed my helmet on my bike's handlebars. "How was yours?"

"Oh, the usual," said Frank with a shrug. "Played the newest War Zero game and am already halfway through its story mode campaign." He looked at me seriously. "It sucks."

"Really?" I said as Frank and I made our way to the steps leading to the school entrance. "But the trailers made it look cool."

"Yeah, that's just marketing BS," said Frank, rolling his eyes. "The story is so cliche and stupid. That's why I'm going to finish it today after school. What are you going to do, by the way?"

"Oh, just go home and chill," I said, although I was thinking about how I was going to have to go to my job. "Not much else to do at the moment."

"Okay," said Frank. "By the way, I heard from Greta that she saw you Saturday morning. Said you fell on the street and cracked your glasses."

"What?" I said, looking at Frank in shock as we joined the throng of students climbing the steps to the school. "You were talking with Greta? I didn't know you talked with Greta outside of school. Or that you talked to her at all, for that matter."

"Well, I didn't actually talk to her," said Frank. "I was just going to the post office on Sunday to see if my package had arrived and I walked past Greta and one of her friends. Overheard them talking about you."

"Really?" I said. I felt my throat start to constrict slightly at the thought of Greta talking about me. "What did they say?"

"I don't know," said Frank with a shrug. "Sounded to me like Greta's friend thought you were stupid for running into her. Greta, on the other hand, seemed to think it was just an honest mistake."

Internally, I sighed in relief. I thought for sure that Greta was going to think that I was the biggest idiot in the world, but I guess she must have had a more positive opinion about me than I thought. Of course, Frank had only overheard part of their conversation, so maybe Greta's friend somehow managed to change Greta's mind and now Greta hated me. I shook my head as soon as that thought entered my head, however, because I didn't want to let myself obsess over something that might not even be a real problem.

After stopping by our lockers to pick up our textbooks, Frank and I made our way to our first class of the period, our science class. Science class was always one of my favorite classes; I really liked learning about nature and science and stuff. The teacher, Mrs. Naomi, was always good at making it interesting and informative. It was probably the best class in the school just because of Mrs. Naomi's teaching skills. It didn't hurt that Mrs. Naomi was very pretty, too, although not as pretty as Greta, in my opinion.

As we walked into the classroom, I looked over at the teacher's desk and said, in a bright voice, "Good morning, Mrs.--"

I stopped speaking as soon as I saw who was sitting behind the desk. A thin, balding middle-aged man sat behind the desk, wearing a crumpled button-up shirt and blue slacks that looked like they hadn't been ironed in a while. He immediately looked up at me when I spoke, showing me his large glasses that made his eyes look even bigger than they really were. I had seen those glasses before, but I didn't expect to see them again: They were the glasses of Mr. Sampson Peters, my former high school science teacher, who used to work here before he quit six months ago.

I blinked several times, trying to make sure I wasn't somehow hallucinating his existence, but Mr. Peters did not suddenly turn into slim and gorgeous Mrs. Naomi, no matter how many times I blinked. He just stared at me, at first with a puzzled look, before recognition dawned on his features and a scowl crossed his face.

"Hello, Alex," said Mr. Peters. His voice was as nasally as I remembered, made even worse by his forced politeness. "I see you are still as late as ever."

"Late?" I repeated. I glanced at my wristwatch. "But I'm on time."

"Class starts at eight," said Mr. Peters, his voice as polite as ever. "You walked in at eight o' one."

"What happened to Mrs. Naomi?" I said. "Why are you back?"

"Mrs. Naomi has gone on vacation to visit her relatives in North Dakota," said Mr. Peters. "She will be back in a week, but until then, I am your substitute teacher."

I looked at the rest of the class, to see if anyone could confirm that. Unfortunately, the other students were too busy getting into their seats and talking to each other to pay attention to that. Only Frank still stood with me, looking almost as awkward as me, probably because he remembered Mr. Peters as well.

"I thought you said you weren't going to work here ever again," I said, looking at Mr. Peters. "That's what you said when you quit."

"I meant full time," said Mr. Peters with a bit of a snap to his voice. "I'm perfectly fine with substituting. I still love teaching science; I just don't love it quite as much as I used to. Rest assured, however, that today's class will be infinitely and more informative than Mrs. Naomi's average class. Not that she is a bad teacher; she simply is not knowledgeable about science as I am."

To most people, that would just sound like bragging, but I knew that Mr. Peters was doing more than just bragging. As much as I disliked the man, I had to acknowledge that he definitely knew his science, maybe even better than Mrs. Naomi.

After all, he was the guy who gave me my superpowers in the first place.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Frank and I took our seats near the back of the class. As we sat down, Frank whispered to me, "Alex, do you think Mr. Peters will grade us fairly? You know he doesn't like us."

I didn't look at Frank. I just watched Mr. Peters, who was now standing up and calling for order in the classroom. Although Mr. Peters was not a very large man, his voice was commanding enough that he managed to make everyone shut up pretty quickly. Mrs. Naomi could do that, too, but somehow it was more impressive when Mr. Peters did it, if only because most of us didn't like him that much, although there was a special animosity between Mr. Peters and Frank and I that didn't quite exist between the rest of the class and him. A more personal animosity, I guess you'd say.

"I don't know," I replied in an equally low whisper as I pulled my textbook out of my bag and put it on my desk. "But even if he doesn't, so what? He's only going to substitute for a week. It's not like he'll be able to do more than just annoy us."

"But I've been getting straight As in class ever since Mrs. Naomi became our teacher," said Frank in an anxious voice. "If Mr. Peters decides to break that streak just because he doesn't like us, my parents will kill me."

"Just focus on doing your best work and try not to let Peters' bias get to you," I said. "And if you disagree with any of his gradings, just ask Mrs. Naomi about it later. I'm sure she'd listen to you if you can show that Peters didn't grade you fairly."

Frank nodded, although he still looked anxious and worried. I understood his feelings well, but I tried not to let them get to me. I turned to the next chapter of our textbook, just as Peters told the class to, but my mind, unfortunately, wasn't on my schoolwork. Instead, I was thinking back to six months ago, on the day that I got my powers and my life changed forever.

It had been an unusually warm day in April. So hot, in fact, that Mr. Peters had allowed us to bring drinks to class, which was a big out of character moment for him and seemed even more out of character for him now, but back then, although Mr. Peters had been a pretty stern teacher, he at least didn't hate his students. Sometimes, he'd even let us watch a science documentary instead of doing a normal boring science lesson or he'd have an interesting science experiment to show us. I even sort of liked him; not as much as Mrs. Naomi, but more so than my other teachers.

Anyway, when school let out for the day, Frank and I were some of the last students to leave. That was because Frank had lost his pencil case at some point during the day and asked me to help him find it, so we went to each classroom, backtracking Frank's steps in an effort to find his pencil case. Because it had been a hot day, we got thirsty pretty quickly, but we had no drinks with us, so we tried to ignore our thirst until we could leave the school.

We searched every classroom but couldn't find anything until we went to Mr. Peters' science classroom. There, we found Frank's pencil case inside his desk, but as we left, I caught a whiff of something that smelled like orange soda coming from the cupboard where Mr. Peters usually kept his science supplies. Because I was so thirsty, I thought that maybe it was a soft drink that Mr. Peters had left unattended, so Frank and I went over and opened the cupboard, figuring that Mr. Peters would be okay if we took a drink, given how hot the day was.

As it turned out, the orange smell had come from a beaker of some kind of weird purple liquid in one of Mr. Peters' beakers. I'd never seen anything like it before and I would have just closed the cupboard and left it alone if Frank hadn't dared me to drink it.

To this day, I'm not sure why Frank dared me to drink it. Maybe it was because it was unusual for Mr. Peters to leave out his science supplies like this and we wanted to know what it was. Or maybe Frank was just being a stupid teenage boy and I was being an even stupider teenage boy for agreeing to go along with it; at least, that's what Dad told me after I told him about it. And, with six more months of life experience under my belt now, I had to admit that Dad had a point.

Regardless, I couldn't back down from a dare. I never could, even when it would hurt me. So I grabbed the beaker and downed the whole thing in one gulp. I expected it to taste like orange, based on the smell and color, but instead it tasted like sand. It was the worst drink I'd ever had in my whole life and it made my stomach feel horrible, like it was being melted from the inside. I was pretty sure I was going to die, especially when I felt my eyes start to burn.

Coincidentally, Mr. Peters walked into the classroom just then. I later learned that he'd come at that moment to grab his beaker before he went home for the day, but when he saw that I had drank it ... well, let's just say that I did not know that such a thin man could yell so loudly. Or that it was even possible for a human to shout loud enough to crack glass.

According to Mr. Peters, he had designed that serum with the express purpose of drinking it to gain superpowers. He had said that he wanted to retire from teaching at the end of the school year so he could start his superhero business. He had put much of his time and money and effort into concocting a serum that could give him powers so he would be able to fight supervillains and criminals easier, because most superheroes had powers and he thought it would make it easier for him to succeed in business if he had powers.

But I had ruined his entire plan by drinking that serum. Not only that, but my powers didn't even manifest immediately, so Mr. Peters became convinced that even if he had drunk the serum, it would have done nothing except make him feel sick. He still retired from teaching at the end of the year, but he didn't go into the superhero business. As a matter of fact, I didn't know what he did after retirement; I never saw him around Golden City, nor did I hear anything about him from the other teachers. Part of me had thought that he might have just locked himself in his house and wasted away from anger and envy, but I guess he must have found some employment somewhere, because he certainly didn't look that different from how he did six months ago, although he did have huge bags under his eyes, like he hadn't gotten much sleep recently.

Of course, Mr. Peters' serum actually did work, but I didn't manifest my powers until I got home that day. Then I nearly blew up Dad's car and the rest is history. I didn't tell Mr. Peters about my powers, however, because now that I was a sidekick, I didn't want anyone to be able to suspect that I was a sidekick. I hadn't even told Frank about my powers; when he'd asked me about the serum the next day, I lied and told him that I had had thrown up all night long but otherwise didn't get any powers. Frank actually seemed relieved about it, although he told me that if he had known what it was ahead of time, he would have drunk it himself even if it made him sick, just in case it worked and gave him powers.

For the remainder of that semester, Mr. Peters acted far more unfair not just toward us, but all of his students, than he did before. He was quicker to fail students or send them to detention over the most minor issues and he wasn't nearly as patient as he used to be. As a result, when Mr. Peters retired from teaching at the end of the year, everyone in my class breathed a sigh of relief. It was kind of sad, because he'd started off the school year as beloved by everyone but ended it with everyone hating him and wishing they'd never see his face again. Even the other teachers didn't like Mr. Peters all that much.

That was all in the past now, though. Mr. Peters was standing up at the front, doing a lecture about the importance of math in science. He did not seem to be paying me any special attention; maybe he had gotten over his anger at me for drinking what he thought was going to be the ticket to riches. Or maybe he was planning to make my life a living hell later on, when I let my guard down.

To take my mind off that, I tried to follow along by reading my textbook. I only read a few lines, however, before I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I looked up, but Mr. Peters didn't seem to hear it, which was good, because Mr. Peters hated it whenever students used their phones in class; in fact, it was usually a good way to earn instant detention. I couldn't afford detention now, however, because then I would have to miss work today. But I was also curious to see who had texted me, so when Mr. Peters turned his back to the class to start writing on the white board, I pulled my phone halfway out of my pocket and glanced at the message. It was from Adams; which was odd, because I didn't think he'd text me outside of work hours.

But that didn't matter. What did matter was the context of the message, which, though short, was enough to shake my world:

RUBBERMAN IS IN HOSPITAL. GO DIRECTLY TO ELASTIC CAVE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
CHAPTER TWELVE

Of course, I couldn't just run out of class and bike to the Elastic Cave that very moment. There was no way that Mr. Peters would ever let me leave early for any reason; besides, I technically wasn't supposed to start work until after school anyway. That didn't mean I didn't want to go, though, but I had to text Adams that I was in school and couldn't come right away, but would head there as soon as the bell rang.

As a result, the day seemed to drag on forever. It was like every time I glanced at the clock in my classroom, the hands were frozen or moved maybe half an inch, if even that. I had a hard time paying attention in all of my classes; even at lunch, I barely paid attention to what I ate, and as a result I probably missed loads of important things that would appear on future tests. Mr. Peters definitely noticed; he kept calling me to attention every time he thought that I wasn't paying attention. It helped me pay attention for a couple more minutes, but then I'd go right back into worrying about Rubberman. I wished that Adams' text had been more specific; what, exactly, happened to Rubberman that put him in the hospital? My best guess was that he fought a supervillain and got hurt, but it seemed strange to me that he'd fight two separate supervillains over a period of three days. Maybe there were more supervillains and criminals in Golden City than I thought.

In any case, when the bell rang and school was let out for the day, I was probably the first student out of the school. Frank asked me where I was going in such a hurry, but I told him some excuse about how I needed to get home ASAP and didn't say anything else other than that. I barely even paid attention to Greta when I ran past her on my way out, that's how focused I was on getting to the Elastic Cave.

As it turned out, Harold Golden High was not as close to the Elastic Cave's entrance as my house was; still, I managed to make it there in record time, using my knowledge of the city's layouts and shortcuts to get there about fifteen minutes after school had ended. It helped that I pedaled hard and fast, not slowing down even when there were obstacles in my path that I had to avoid.

When I got inside the false grocery store front, I didn't even put up my bike. I just shoved it to the ground, stepped into the elevator, and went down to Level One. Even though it was a short ride, I couldn't help but bounce up and down on the balls of my feet, trying to will the elevator to go down faster.

Once the elevator stopped and the doors opened, I dashed out, shouting, "Adams! What's going on? What happened to Rubberman?"

Adams sat in front of the Control System's monitors. It looked like he had been watching the news while I was away, but as soon as I entered, he turned around in the chair. I caught a glimpse of a news report about an ice-themed supervillain somewhere in Golden City's east side before Adams stood up and said, "Mr. Fry, it is good to see that you didn't waste any time in getting here. Kids these days are just so slow sometimes even in emergencies."

"Yeah, I know, and you guys walked a mile to and back from school every day without shoes," I said. "Now what happened to Rubberman? I got your text about his hospitalization."

"Mr. Pullman is currently in the Golden City General Hospital receiving care for wounds he received in a fight with a supervillain earlier today," said Adams.

"Is he dying?" I said with a gulp.

"No, but he is in serious condition," said Adams. "The supervillain he fought, a man named Fro-Zen, used his ice powers to almost freeze Mr. Pullman to death. It was only thanks to the timely arrival of the Golden City Police and their guns that drove Fro-Zen off before he could finish off Mr. Pullman."

"How long will Rubberman be in the hospital?" I said. "Can we go visit him?"

"The doctors don't know how long he will be there, but it will probably be several weeks at least," said Adams, shaking his head. "As for visiting him, no, you cannot, at least not without your costume. Otherwise, people will know that you are Beams and you would have your license revoked."

"No one knows who Beams is, though," I said. "It's not like I've gone out in public with my sidekick identity."

"There are rumors on the Internet about Rubberman's new sidekick who can shoot lasers from his eyes," said Adams. "I don't know where those rumor mongers got that information from, but it is out there, and if Alex Fry goes to visit Rubberman without good reason, it could raise suspicions. Besides, Rubberman asked me not to take you to the hospital. He wants you to stay here and train."

"Train?" I said aghast. "I should be out there hunting down that Fro-Zen guy you mentioned. He got away, didn't he?"

"Yes," said Adams, nodding. "From my understanding, however, the police shot him several times, so he will likely not be a threat for a while. And anyway, you are not in any way, shape, or form ready for a supervillain as powerful as him. Mr. Pullman specifically doesn't want you to fight Fro-Zen."

"Who is Fro-Zen, anyway?" I said. "I've never even heard of him. Where did he come from? Is he from Golden City or somewhere else?"

Adams opened his mouth to answer, but then one of the monitors behind him from one of the local news channels showed footage of what looked like the end of the fight between Rubberman and Fro-Zen. It showed Golden City police officers firing bullets at a guy wearing a simple jacket and jeans surfing away on what appeared to be a surfboard made of ice. Although the gunshots were loud, I could distinctly hear the man shouting, "This isn't the end, Dennis! I'll be back, and once I am, the entire superhero industry will fall before my power!"

All of a sudden, all of the monitors turned off. That was courtesy of Adams, who held a remote in his hands that he was pointing at the monitors. He quickly put the remote into his back pocket and said, "That is Fro-Zen. As you can tell, he is an ice-themed supervillain and a dangerous one at that."

"Why did he call Rubberman by his real name?" I said. "And what did he mean about the entire superhero industry falling before his power?"

"Nothing," said Adams. "Like most supervillains, Fro-Zen has a tendency to make grandiose statements that he can't actually back up with actions. He only used Mr. Pullman's real name as a psychological tactic; besides, as a registered business with the government, it isn't like Mr. Pullman even has a secret identity, especially since he is a celebrity."

I wasn't the most socially savvy guy in the world, but even I could tell that Adams was trying to avoid answering truthfully about Fro-Zen. Clearly, Fro-Zen was more than just your average psychotic supervillain; he had some kind of deeper connection to Rubberman, but I didn't know what it was. I would find out one way or another, though, whether Adams wanted me to or not.

For now, though, I decided that it wouldn't be wise to push this issue with Adams. "All right, then. You said Rubberman wanted me to stay here and train, but how can I train without him? Am I supposed to teach myself?"

Adams shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. I will be your teacher today."

"You?" I said. "You aren't secretly a superhero yourself, are you?"

"Of course not," said Adams. "As much as I respect Mr. Pullman, I would never be caught dead in those gaudy, flashy costumes you people wear. However, I do know a thing or two about training superheroes from my younger days, so Mr. Pullman delegated the duty to me until he is out of the hospital."

"If Rubberman is going to be in the hospital, then why bother have me come to work at all?" I said. "Why not just send me home and call me back once he's out of the hospital?"

"Because Mr. Pullman believes that Fro-Zen may come after you next," said Adams. "And he wants you to be prepared to defend yourself in that case."

I frowned. "Why would Fro-Zen come after me? Does he even know I exist?"

"Probably not, but Fro-Zen is dangerous, crazy, and willing to harm anyone connected to Mr. Pullman," said Adams. "Therefore, it is imperative that your training continue. Otherwise, you will not be able to defend yourself from Fro-Zen should he choose to attack you, as unlikely as that currently is."

"Okay," I said. "When do we start?"

"As soon as you get your costume on," said Adams. "I have already set up the Rubber Room for your training exercise. See me there in ten minutes."

I nodded and walked over to the other side of the Cave, intending to get my suit on as soon as I could. Still, I could not help but think about this Fro-Zen guy and his connection to Rubberman, as well as Adams' clear and obvious avoidance of my questions. I figured that Fro-Zen was more than just another supervillain from Rubberman's rogues gallery, but his exact relation to Rubberman was still a mystery to me.

A mystery I would solve, hopefully before Fro-Zen struck again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

With my costume on and my helmet tied securely around my head, I stood in the Rubber Room facing Adams. Adams was not dressed in his usual suit; instead, he wore some kind of sleek red armor that made him look like a superhero. He had told me that the armor would protect him from stray energy blasts or from falling debris should I cause a mess, but I couldn't help pointing out just how 'gaudy' and 'flashy' his armor made him look. Maybe that's why he told me that we were going to work harder than ever before today; clearly, Adams didn't have a very good sense of humor.

Speaking of the Rubber Room, the blackened crater I had created in the wall was gone. It appeared to have been cleanly repaired at some point since the last time I was here. I asked Adams about it, but Adams just told me that he had had a lot of experience repairing the Rubber Room after intense training sessions and that I shouldn't worry about it.

"Now," said Adams, his voice slightly muffled through his helmet, which looked kind of like a simplified version of my own helmet, "today we will focus on teaching you how to control the power of your eye beams. Currently, you can only fire them at full power, yes?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Every time I fire them, they're at full power. I don't know how to control it."

"Well, that is what I am going to teach you today," said Adams. "And we will use one of the targets for practice."

Adams tapped a button on his armor and a mechanical limb lowered from the ceiling with a simple red and white target hanging from its end. The limb stopped in the same place as the first target had back on Saturday, although that didn't make me feel any more confident about my ability not to destroy the entire Rubber Room with my powers.

"All right, then," said Adams. "You see the target, correct?"

"Yeah," I said. "Want me to blow it up now?"

"Not now," said Adams, shaking his head. "Firstly, I want you to begin building up a charge of energy in your eyes. Don't unleash it yet, however; just focus on the target and begin building up that power."

"Okay," I said.

I focused on the stationary target. As soon as I began focusing on it, my eyes started to heat up and I almost unleashed my eye beams, but I held them in.

"Okay, I've got a charge built up," I said without looking at Adams. "Now what?"

"How does it feel?" said Adams.

"What?"

"I said, how does it feel?" said Adams. "That is, how does it feel to have energy building in your eyes?"

I frowned, not seeing how this was relevant, but I said anyway, "My eyes feel hot, like they're boiling."

"Then they are too hot," said Adams. "Try to lower the temperature. Tell your eyes to be less powerful."

"How do I do that?"

"Just focus. Pay attention to nothing else but your eyes and their temperature."

I was dubious that Adams' advice would work, but I decided to try it out. It couldn't hurt, could it?

Focusing on my eyes, I tried to get them cooler. Unfortunately, my eyes returned to their original temperature too quickly and as a result I could no longer feel the power building up in them.

"I can't feel the charge anymore," I complained, looking at Adams. "I think I turned my powers off."

"Then turn them back on again," said Adams, a hint of impatience in his voice. "You control your powers. Your powers do not control you."

I didn't like the impatience in Adams' voice, but I activated my powers again anyway. My eyes began to heat up again, reaching their previous temperature.

"Okay, they're active again," I said.

"Now try to control the temperature," said Adams. "Focus on lowering it without turning off your powers entirely."

That sounded like an impossible task, but again, I did not object. I just focused more intensely on my eye beams than ever; I wish I knew for sure how they worked, but sadly Mr. Peters' serum didn't come with instructions. I had no idea if my powers were connected to my mind or not. Guess I was about to find out.

Finally, I felt the temperature in my eyes begin to go down slightly. It was barely noticeable, but there was a definite drop in temperature for sure.

"My eyes are cooling down," I said. "But the power is not turning off."

"Excellent," said Adams. "Now unleash your eye beams on the target. Let's see exactly how strong they are."

I nodded once and fired the eye beams. They exploded from my eyes, refracted through my visor, and struck the target. And then the target exploded, forcing me to cover my face with my arms to avoid getting hit by the flying debris. But the explosion definitely seemed smaller than the first time; not super small, but also not nearly as big as before.

"Good job, Mr. Fry," said Adams. "I could tell that that laser blast was not as strong as the last. It appears that you are beginning to gain control over the temperature and power of your eye beams, although you will most definitely require more practice in order to gain more complete control over it."

I was surprised at Adams' praise, given how he didn't seem to like me that much. Not that I was going to argue the point, however, because I liked getting praised better than getting criticized.

For the next half hour or so I practiced controlling the temperature and power of my eye beams. It became easier each time, but I still had to focus whenever I wanted to control the power of the blast. Adams told me that I would eventually be able to do it instinctively when I mentioned that problem to him and that for now I should just focus on working on it. That I did, though that didn't stop me from worrying about controlling my powers in a fight.

After about a half hour of practice, Adams told me to stop and said we could take a break to eat, use the restroom, and rest. I was actually disappointed; now that I was making real progress controlling my powers, all I wanted to do was practice and practice until I got even better. But I was getting hungry, so I followed Adams out of the Rubber Room and back into the main part of the Elastic Cave.

"As you know, we have plenty of food, snacks, and drinks in the fridge," said Adams, gesturing at the fridge in the kitchen area. "Feel free to eat whatever you like. As for me, I will be in the restroom."

"You're leaving me alone again?" I said as I walked over to the kitchen area. "Are you sure about that?"

"Trust me, Mr. Fry, you will be totally safe," said Adams. "We identified the flaws in the Cave's defenses and fixed them, so it is unlikely that there will be a repeat of the ninja episode. Plus, the ninja likely already stole what his employer had sent him to steal, meaning that it is unlikely that he or anyone else will make a second trip down here just to harm you."

"If you say so," I said.

Adams simply rolled his eyes like he was exasperated with how kids these days were before disappearing down the hall and into the bathroom. I went over to the fridge, opened it, and picked out a banana and some crackers, which I began to munch on when I sat down at the table.

As I sat there, I couldn't help but wonder about Rubberman's health. All Adams had said was that Rubberman was in 'serious' condition, but that didn't help me. I couldn't just go to the hospital and visit him, either, so I would probably have to wait until the hospital released Rubberman before I would get to see him again.

Then a thought occurred to me as I sat there. Superhero/supervillain fights always made the news because they were always interesting to people. And considering that Rubberman was a local celebrity, that would make it even more likely that a news station had covered the fight. If I looked it up online, maybe I would find a report with more details about the injuries that Rubberman suffered.

Whipping out my phone, I searched for a news report on the fight. The first result on my search engine was an article from the Golden City Journal, the city's biggest newspaper. It showed a picture at the top of what looked like the city park, half-covered in snow and ice like it had just snowed recently, even though we weren't supposed to get any snow for the next few weeks.

At the top of the article, the headline read LOCAL SUPERHERO NOW IN CRITICAL CONDITION AFTER CLASH WITH SUPERVILLAIN.

The article read thus:

GOLDEN CITY, TEXAS--A recent clash between a local superhero and supervillain earlier today ended with the superhero in critical condition and the supervillain fleeing police, the Golden City Police Department told reporters.

At approximately 7:50 AM this morning, local superhero Dennis 'Rubberman' Pullman clashed with supervillain Edward 'Fro-Zen' Bend in Golden City Park. Police from the Golden City Department provided backup, but most of the fighting was done by Rubberman as he attempted to stop Fro-Zen from freezing over the park.

The clash ended when Fro-Zen froze half of Rubberman's body, although the supervillain was forced to flee after the police began firing on him. After that, Rubberman was rushed to the Golden City General Hospital, where he is currently in critical condition from overexposure to ice. Doctors who spoke to our reporters said that Rubberman is expected to survive.

Fro-Zen's current location is unknown, but the police have put out notices on social media asking anyone who knows of the supervillain's location to come forward with information. It is currently thought that Fro-Zen is hiding somewhere in Golden City, but police warn that he is dangerous and should be avoided by normal citizens at all costs, even though he is believed to be suffering from serious injuries due to being shot several times in the back when he fled. Below is a picture of the supervillain provided by the police.

No casualties were reported by the police. The park was empty at the time of the attack.

The picture looked like a mugshot, as if Fro-Zen (or 'Edward Bend,' as his real name appeared to be) had been arrested before. He looked pretty young, probably only a few years older than me, with an angry look in his eyes that made me glad it was just a picture of him. Just below the picture was a caption, which I read once, but stopped and read it again to make sure I didn't misread it. I stared at the caption for a few seconds, wondering if I was reading this right. It didn't make sense.

But I couldn't pretend that the caption said anything than what was written under the picture, which said this:

Pictured: The mugshot of Edward 'Fro-Zen' Bend from his last time in prison after murdering the superhero Slinger. Bend was also the first sidekick of Dennis 'Rubberman' Pullman, though a falling out between the two four years ago led to him quitting his job and taking up a life of crime instead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I just sat there, half-eaten banana in my other hand, staring at the caption underneath Fro-Zen's mugshot. Part of me believed that I was experiencing some kind of hallucination; how could Fro-Zen be Rubberman's former sidekick? It made no sense.

But then, what did I know about Rubberman's first sidekick? All I knew was that his first sidekick had quit working for him about four years ago. I had been meaning to research Rubberman's first sidekick, but I had been so busy and distracted over the last few days that I hadn't had time to do it. Now I wasn't so sure that I wanted to know what led Fro-Zen to go from being a hero to being a murderer who targeted superheroes.

Why didn't Rubberman tell me this when I first started working here? Maybe he didn't think it was relevant because Fro-Zen had not been in Golden City until recently. Still, it seemed like an awfully important fact to leave out to prospective job applicants. 'Welcome aboard, Alex! You're going to have a great time as my sidekick. The last guy went evil and murdered another superhero, but don't worry, I doubt that will happen to you.'

Now I knew why Rubberman wanted Adams to train me. Fro-Zen was clearly after Rubberman. Rubberman must have thought that Fro-Zen would come after me if he knew of my existence, so he was having me trained so I could defend myself. It made a lot more sense now, but I still had a lot of questions, such as where Fro-Zen came from, why he became evil, and why he had decided to come back and kill Rubberman now rather than at some other time.

I decided to do another Internet search. I typed in Fro-Zen's name on my favorite search engine. The first result was the article I just read; however, just below it was another article, this one from four years ago, with a headline reading 'MEET RUBBERMAN'S NEW SIDEKICK, FRO-ZEN.'

I clicked the link and saw that the article was on Golden City Journal's website, dated four years ago, even written by the same guy who wrote the article I just read. At the top of the article was a picture of Rubberman and Fro-Zen, except Fro-Zen looked much younger, probably no older than me, and they stood together in the picture smiling like they were best friends. I began reading it:

GOLDEN CITY, TEXAS--Upcoming superhero super star Dennis 'Rubberman' Pullman is pleased to introduce his first and newest sidekick, Fro-Zen, a young, eager kid who can make it snow, among other icy powers.

Ever since Rubberman's rise to stardom after defeating the supervillain Volcano late last year, rumors have swirled in the superhero business that Rubberman was seeking a sidekick. Some famous sidekicks, such as Enigma Boy, have even claimed that Rubberman has approached them for work, although none of these rumors have ever been confirmed by Rubberman himself.

But all of these rumors were put to rest when Rubberman introduced young Fro-Zen (pictured above) to the world at a recent press conference in Golden City, Texas. Rubberman says that, although he has only been a superhero for a year, he is a long-term thinker and began looking for a possible successor to his business shortly after defeating Volcano.

"I interviewed dozens of intelligent and capable young men and women, but Fro-Zen was the only one who really impressed me," Rubberman told reporters at the press conference he held today. "He has a passion and drive for saving innocent people and fighting supervillains that most kids his age lack. It helps that he's already very business savvy and has a power set that could make him even stronger than me someday."

At the conference, Fro-Zen answered only a few questions from reporters. He answered few questions from his past, but did say that he was honored to have been chosen by Rubberman to be his sidekick and that he could not wait to begin fighting supervillains and criminals alongside his employer/mentor.

At the end of the conference, Rubberman and Fro-Zen drove off to the Elastic Cave in the Rubbermobile, though not before Rubberman revealed that he had already struck a deal with a t-shirt company to have Rubberman and Fro-Zen branded t-shirts out before the end of the year. Additionally, Rubberman hinted that Fro-Zen would be getting some of his own merchandise, although he gave no specifics as to what that would entail.

That was the end of the article. It sure made Rubberman and Fro-Zen sound like BFFs, but obviously something happened at some point to make them enemies. The question is, what?

Luckily for me, the bottom of the article had a section labeled 'RELATED ARTICLES,' which included one such article with the headline 'FORMER RUBBERMAN SIDEKICK ARRESTED BY POLICE FOR MURDER OF SUPERHERO SLINGER.'

Clicking the link, I noticed that the article was dated a year after the last one. I immediately began reading:

Golden City, Texas--After a week of searching, the Golden City Police have finally arrested former Rubberman sidekick Edward 'Fro-Zen' Bend, Police Chief Williams announced yesterday.

The arrest of the young sidekick is the culmination of a week dubbed 'Super Slaughter Week' by some observers. It began on Monday when the body of the famous superhero Andrew 'Slinger' Lee--known for exposing the corruption of former mayor Carlos Peligro and for his hit TV show 'Slinger's World'--was found frozen on the banks of the Golden City River early that morning. The discovery of Slinger's body sparked a citywide manhunt for the killer, with the prime suspect being young Edward 'Fro-Zen' Bend, who had quit his job as sidekick to Dennis 'Rubberman' Pullman the week before.

Fro-Zen was arrested early this morning after being tracked down by police inside an elementary school in south Golden City. Fro-Zen locked himself in one of the classrooms, along with all of the students inside, and froze the doors and windows with ice so thick that even bullets couldn't pierce them. Fro-Zen threatened to kill every student in the classroom if police did not allow him to leave the campus grounds unmolested.

The standoff lasted for hours before Rubberman showed up and lured Fro-Zen out of the school and into a trap set by the police. Police reports indicate that Fro-Zen was knocked out during the scuffle, but is still alive and is expected to recover while in police custody. Some of the students held hostage by Fro-Zen suffer from minor frostbite, but none have died and the injured are expected to recover quickly.

Motives for Fro-Zen's murder of Slinger are still unknown. Police currently believe that Fro-Zen is suffering from a nervous breakdown, although there is no evidence to confirm Fro-Zen's motives at the moment. Rubberman did not answer any of the calls that Golden City Journal made to him on this matter, although he did release a public statement last Tuesday expressing his regret for Fro-Zen's actions and vowing to work day and night until Fro-Zen was brought to justice for his crimes.

I frowned. So they didn't know his motives, but they published the police speculation about them anyway. Guess I shouldn't expect much in the way of honesty from reporters.

But that was unimportant. What was important was what happened to Fro-Zen. Something had caused Fro-Zen to become a villain; what, I didn't know. I found it interesting that he quit working for Rubberman before he killed Slinger. That indicated that there must have been some sort of falling out between the two, but I couldn't even fathom what must have caused it. Did all of the fame get to his head? Did they have differing philosophies on what being a superhero meant? And why did Fro-Zen apparently think it was a smart idea to murder another superhero and then hold a classroom of elementary kids hostage when the police tracked him down?

I was about to do another Internet search to see if I could find more articles about Fro-Zen's trial and imprisonment, but just then I heard a toilet flushing and I looked up to see Adams step out of the bathroom, a look of relief on his face.

"Sorry for taking so long," said Adams. "I had tacos for lunch today, even though I am well-aware of what they do to my bowels. Are you ready to resume training?"

I immediately shoved my phone back into my pocket. I would do another Internet search later, maybe when I got home from work. I considered asking Adams about Fro-Zen, but decided that it wouldn't be wise to tell him that I'd been snooping into Rubberman's past without his knowledge. Something told me that Adams would not be pleased to learn that I knew all about Fro-Zen now.

"Sure," I said. "Just let me finish my banana and we can get started again."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The rest of the training session went by pretty smoothly. I blew up a ton of targets, and by the end of it, I could already lower the power and temperature of my eye beams by half. Adams was genuinely pleased by my progress and even told me that he was proud of how quick a learner I was. I was surprised by my speed, too, and it made me think that I was going to learn how to control my powers faster than I thought, which meant that it wouldn't be long before I was ready to fight crime on the street alongside Rubberman himself. I could already see my face and name in news articles on the Internet and across the country in real life newspapers (even though I'm not sure that anyone other than my old grandpa actually reads them anymore).

It helped that I had to stay focused so I wouldn't blow up the base. As a result, I didn't think too much about what I'd learned about Fro-Zen on the Internet. Of course, whenever we took a five minute break or whenever Adams had to leave for a moment to check on something, my mind would immediately return to thinking about Fro-Zen. In particular, I wondered what could have caused Fro-Zen to go from being a celebrated sidekick with a bright future ahead of him to a psychotic criminal who was willing to endanger the lives of innocent children or why he was going after Rubberman. I wondered if there was any info on their falling out online; I doubted it, though, because Rubberman didn't seem like the kind of guy who would let this kind of private and personal information just be freely distributed over the Internet for all to see.

At the end of the training session, Adams and I left the Rubber Room, which was now smoking slightly from the laser blasts that the walls had taken, but Adams had assured me that he would clean it up later, after I left work, so I didn't worry about it.

I was, however, tired from the session; in particular, my eyes felt like they did after I stared at a computer screen all day. Adams told me that that was likely due to the constant use of my powers, as this was the most I'd ever used my powers in one day. All I wanted to do was lie down and rest, but Adams told me that we had other work to do before I could rest.

"Work?" I said. "What other work? Are you going to have me vacuum the whole Elastic Cave or something?"

"Of course not," said Adams, shaking his head. He had removed his helmet, although he still wore the rest of the training armor. "Instead, I am going to show you to Level Two so you can become familiar with it."

"You mean I'm finally going to see the Rubbermobile?" I said excitedly. "Really?"

"Yes," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman told me that it is time you got a look at it. But you will not get a chance to drive it today, because Mr. Pullman has informed me that he wishes to teach you how to drive it himself once he is out of the hospital."

"But I don't have a driver's license yet," I said. "Will I need one when Rubberman teaches me how to drive the Rubbermobile?"

"Don't worry about that," said Adams, waving off my question. "Mr. Pullman will teach you everything you need to know about driving it once he determines that you are ready to learn it."

"Okay," I said. I immediately began making my way over to the elevator. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go down and see it right away."

"Not yet," said Adams, causing me to stop mid-step and look over my shoulder at him in surprise. "Our training session was very intense, so I want to take a moment to get something to eat and drink before we head down there. You should as well, given how tired you look."

Frowning, I was about to say that I was fine before I suddenly felt hungry and thirsty. It occurred to me that I hadn't eaten or drank anything for over an hour, so I nodded and said, "Okay. Let me take off my--"

I was interrupted by a sudden ringing sound echoing throughout the Elastic Cave. It sounded like someone's ring tone, but it was much louder and I had no idea where it was coming from until I noticed that one of the monitors of the Control System was on. It displayed a phone number, along with a name just above it--SASHA MUNROE--just like it looked on my phone whenever I got a call from someone.

I looked at Adams in confusion. "Who is Sasha Munroe?"

Adams grimaced. "Someone I have the unfortunate luck of being acquainted with."

Before Adams could explain what he meant by that, he rushed past me toward the Control System. Curious, I followed him over to the System just as he reached it. Adams pressed a button on the control panel and the name and number on the screen was replaced with the face of a middle-aged black woman. The camera only showed up to her head and shoulders, but I could tell that she was a short and plump woman. She appeared to be wearing a blue pantsuit and was smiling just the sweetest smile I'd ever seen. She reminded me of my second grade English teacher, who had been the kindest and sweetest woman I ever knew (aside from my Mom, of course). In fact, she looked so much like my second grade English teacher that I assumed it was her at first glance.

"Why, hello, Mr. Adams!" said the woman in the most flattering and friendly tone ever. "I didn't expect anyone to answer. Usually, Mr. Pullman misses my calls and they get sent to voicemail, but I guess I got lucky today, didn't I?"

"Yes, Miss Munroe, you certainly did," said Adams, although his tone suggested to me that Rubberman probably didn't unintentionally miss her calls, "although you are not as lucky as you could have been, given that Mr. Pullman is currently in the hospital and is unavailable for phone calls or video chats with anyone at the moment."

"That is exactly why I called," said Miss Munroe, her tone still extremely sweet. "I read online about Mr. Pullman's fight with that awful supervillain Fro-Zen. I even had some of my people send Mr. Pullman a get well card and some chocolates. Mr. Pullman, I know, loves dark milk chocolate, so I sent him an entire box full of chocolate from the finest candy store in the city."

"That is very kind of you, Miss Munroe," said Adams, his tone flat and unenthusiastic. "I am sure that Mr. Pullman will be pleased to see the gift, although given his current medical condition, I doubt he will get to enjoy it for a while."

"Oh, that's fine," said Miss Munroe. "I'm just doing what I'd want anyone else to do if I were in that situation myself. You know, the Golden Rule and all that."

"Yes, it is a fine rule to live one's life by, assuming one is sincere in its usage," said Adams. "Now, Miss Munroe, I must hang up, for I am very busy at the moment and have no time to talk with you right now."

"Hold on," said Miss Munroe. Her smile briefly vanished, replaced by a startling ugly scowl, before her sweet smile returned. "Can I at least leave a message for Mr. Pullman so he can call me back and we can talk business? I would love to catch up with him about what has been going on in his life and see if he might be interested in an offer from me."

"I will tell Mr. Pullman that you called and that you would like him to call you back," said Adams. "Rest assured of that, Miss Munroe."

Adams' finger hovered over the button that would end the call, but then Miss Munroe must have finally noticed me, because she looked at me and her eyes widened with surprise. "Oh, hello there, young man. What is your name?"

I almost answered with my real name, but then I remembered I was still wearing my costume and I said, "Beams. "

"Beams?" Miss Munroe repeated. "Are you a superhero friend of Rubberman's?"

"Actually, I'm his new sidekick," I said. "Haven't been working for him for very long, though."

Unless I was mistaken, I thought I saw a hint of interest flash across Miss Munroe's eyes. "So the rumors were true after all. Well, Beams, I am pleased to meet you. My name is Sasha Munroe and I--"

"Uh, Miss Munroe, someone else is calling on the other line," Adams interrupted all of a sudden in an unusually loud voice. "And it is someone very important, so let me hang up so I can talk to that person. And I will make sure to let Mr. Pullman know that you were calling for him. Good day."

Adams practically slammed the button on the control panel, causing Miss Munroe's face to be replaced with a blank dark screen, just like how it looked before she called.

I looked at Adams in confusion. "Adams, why'd you tell her that someone was on the other line? She was the only one calling."

Adams turned around to face me. He looked incredibly annoyed, but I wasn't sure if he was annoyed with me or with Sasha. "Sometimes, Mr. Fry, you need to make up little white lies to avoid certain people who are not wise enough to know when no means no."

"Are you talking about Miss Munroe?" I said. "She seemed pretty nice to me."

"She's very good at appearing 'pretty nice' to those who don't know her," said Adams. He rolled his eyes. "Must have learned it from her father, although at least he knew when to back off when someone wasn't interested."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "Who is she? A business associate of Rubberman's?"

"She'd like to be," said Adams. "But to answer your question, that was Sasha Munroe, the current CEO of Munroe Acquisitions, Inc., and one of the most annoying women on the face of the planet, next only to my ex-wife."

"Munroe Acquisitions ..." I repeated with a frown. "Isn't that the company that owns the building with their name on it in the center of the city? I saw it when I went grocery shopping with my mom last month."

"Yes," said Adams, nodding. "They are the largest private business in Golden City and they've always been very generous donors to politicians of varying levels of corruption, though they weren't always that way."

"What does Munroe Acquisitions even do?" I said. "Do they acquire real estate or something? Does Sasha want the Elastic Cave?"

"If all she wanted was the Elastic Cave, she might be less annoying," said Adams, running a hand through his thin white hair. "As it is, Miss Munroe wants nothing more and nothing less than Rubberman himself."

I scratched my head. "Do you mean she wants to have Rubberman work for her?"

"I mean the Rubberman brand," said Adams. "You see, Munroe Acquisitions acquires superhero brands and then sells them off to other companies or individuals at a profit. They don't actually make any superheroes themselves; all they do is wait until a superhero brand has been built by someone else and then offer to purchase it from the people who did the real work of building it."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know such a business existed."

"It's a rather lucrative market, although it is difficult to compete in and it is largely dominated by a handful of mega corporations that span the whole world," said Adams. "Munroe Acquisitions is the biggest American superhero acquisition business and trades places with Zhao Acquisitions from China as the biggest in the world overall every couple of years."

"Wow," I said. "That's pretty impressive."

"It is, but don't be fooled," said Adams, wagging a finger at me. "Miss Munroe did not contribute to its success. She is merely riding on the success of her father, Charles Munroe, who founded it back in the eighties. Quite frankly, given her poor management style, I'm surprised it hasn't collapsed on itself or been bought out by Zhao, but I guess the board of directors must be able to rein in Miss Munroe's dumber ideas."

"You acted like you know her," I said. "Has she called before?"

"More times than either I or Mr. Pullman would like," said Adams. "The damn woman just does not know when to give up. She first started calling us about buying the Rubberman brand about five years ago, after Mr. Pullman defeated the supervillain Volcano and rose to worldwide fame. That was back when the Rubberman brand was still new; she clearly hoped to trick Mr. Pullman into selling it to her so she could profit from the inevitable royalties that would occur from the merchandise when his business exploded."

"I guess she didn't succeed there, huh?" I said.

"Indeed," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman had been an entrepreneur prior to becoming Rubberman, so he was well aware of the value in the brand. He flatly rejected her offer, even though it was easily the most money Mr. Pullman had ever been offered in his life up to that point, because he knew he could earn far more money by retaining ownership over his brand than by selling it to someone else. He also didn't trust Munroe Acquisitions to treat the brand correctly."

"What do you mean?" I said. "What made him think that Sasha wouldn't handle it correctly?"

Adams sighed. "Munroe Acquisitions is known for taking a superhero brand it has recently bought and 'improving' it. Of course, their idea of 'improvement' usually means taking what worked and destroying it and then wondering why the brand isn't as profitable as it was when they first bought it."

"Have they ever done something like that before?" I said.

"Yes," said Adams, nodding. "A few years ago, there was a superhero named American Boxer who had a rapidly growing fan base and brand. Unfortunately, Joshua Jones, the original American Boxer, was not a particularly business savvy man, so when Munroe Acquisitions offered him seven million dollars for the brand, he sold off all rights to it without even thinking about it."

"What did Munroe Acquisitions do to the American Boxer brand?" I said.

"They decided that it wasn't 'inclusive' enough, so they gave the American Boxer identity to an overrated female boxer who spent most of her time insulting male American Boxer fans on social media," said Adams. "As a result, American Boxer merchandise stopped selling, except for the original Joshua Jones merch, but Munroe Acquisitions decided that no one liked the brand anymore, so they retired it and stopped selling American Boxer merch."

"Ow," I said. "Didn't it occur to them that the reason the merch stopped selling is because they messed it up?"

Adams chuckled. "Ah, Miss Munroe is not the kind of woman to admit when she has made a mistake. But she isn't the only one who makes mistakes."

Adams pointed at me sharply. "You should never have told her who you are or your relation to Rubberman."

"What?" I said, stepping back in confusion. "Why? Should I have lied?"

"You should have kept your mouth shut," said Adams. He shook his head. "Knowing that Mr. Pullman has a new sidekick is exactly the kind of information that Miss Munroe wants. This might mess up all of Mr. Pullman's plans."

"I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to tell her," I said. "At least I didn't tell her my real name, so I won't lose my license."

"Yes, but there is a reason why Mr. Pullman has not yet revealed you to the world," said Adams. "It is because he has a particular plan for your debut. I don't think you quite ruined it, but the fact that Miss Munroe is the first person to know who Mr. Pullman's new sidekick is ... well, let's just say that I doubt that Mr. Pullman had planned for that."

My face heated up in embarrassment as I said, "So what? If you didn't want me talking to her, you should have said something before I told her who I was."

"I had forgotten you were there," said Adams. He rubbed his forehead. "Well, it's a good thing I hadn't left you alone to talk with her, otherwise she probably would have learned even more important information about Rubberman's business. She is very tricky; she rarely tells you what she wants up front and will instead ask you a series of seemingly innocent questions that are really meant to make you tell her everything she wants to know."

"So she's not as nice as she seems?" I said.

"She isn't," Adams said. "No doubt she was calling now in order to see if she could take advantage of Mr. Pullman's injury to strike some sort of deal. She was probably hoping that Mr. Pullman was too injured to keep working as Rubberman and that he might sell off the brand to her to pay off his medical bills or because he couldn't run the business anymore."

"You mean she was planning to take advantage of a hospitalized man to basically steal his livelihood from him when he was at his most vulnerable?" I said in shock. "That's despicable."

"For once, I agree with you," said Adams. "And, if the rumors I've heard are true, this isn't the first time she's done something like this. I've even heard rumors that she's intentionally ruined the businesses or reputations of other superheroes so she can offer to buy their brands from them and 'solve' their problems, which must be a successful tactic, based on how much money her company makes each year."

I felt like we'd dodged a bullet. "Wow. There are some pretty unsavory people in this business."

Adams nodded. "Indeed. Sometimes, it feels like the supervillains are the least dangerous people in this industry."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said, "So, are we going to go down to Level Two now?"

"First, we eat and drink and rest a little," said Adams. "I also need to get out of this armor, because we're not training anymore. After that, we can go down to Level Two and I can show you the Rubbermobile at last."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After a quick break, Adams and I took the elevator down to Level Two. It was a quick ride, about as quick as the ride from the grocery store entrance to Level One, although I was so excited to see the Rubbermobile that it seemed to take much longer than that.

When the doors opened, I didn't hesitate to dash out, even before Adams could leave. I came to an abrupt stop and eagerly looked around Level Two, trying to spot the Rubbermobile.

Level Two was really different from Level One. Although the metal paneling on the walls, floor, and ceiling was the same, the Level itself was laid out differently. Rather than being divided into multiple rooms, it was just one big chamber, with only a handful of doors to the left of us that appeared to lead to separate rooms, including one labeled 'LAUNDRY.' On the opposite side of the chamber was a huge, round door that looked like the exit, which was probably how the Rubbermobile got into the streets from the Cave. To the right was an elevated platform with a computer monitor, plus a wall covered with various tools for servicing cars. The entire chamber smelled somewhat like oil and rubber; it wasn't an overpowering scent by any means, but it was still pretty obvious and impossible to ignore.

None of that mattered to me, however, because I immediately spotted the Rubbermobile, which was on the floor at the bottom of the chamber. I ran over to the railing and peered over it at the Rubbermobile below.

It was the coolest car I'd ever seen, much cooler than Dad's car or even James' car. It was long and sleek, looking like a tricked out racing car more than anything. It was incredibly shiny, reflecting the lights from above; in fact, I was pretty sure that I could see my reflection on its surface even from a distance. It had the same colors as Rubberman's suit and had an awesome spoiler.

"There it is," said Adams, who I hadn't heard walk up to my side. "The Rubbermobile itself, custom-made according to Mr. Pullman's specifications."

I looked at Adams eagerly. "Can I drive it?"

"No," said Adams. "Remember what I told you before?"

"Okay, but can I at least sit in it?" I said. I patted my suit. "I'm pretty clean, so I won't dirty the seats or anything."

"No," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman was very clear that you are only allowed to look at the Rubbermobile and ask questions about it. You can't even touch it."

"Why?" I said. "Would that really hurt anything?"

"The Rubbermobile is the company car, essentially," said Adams. "It is very expensive to maintain and cannot be easily replaced if it is wrecked or damaged. We wouldn't even have it at all if Mr. Pullman didn't need it; as it is, it is his most reliable form of long-term transportation and has been helpful in getting him to crime scenes in a reasonable amount of time."

"Cool," I said. "How fast does it go?"

"It can go up to two hundred miles per hour," said Adams. "Sometimes even faster, although Mr. Pullman has never tried to push its speed beyond that level."

"Two hundred--?" I couldn't even finish that sentence. "That's practically as fast as a race car."

"Indeed," said Adams. "In fact, Mr. Pullman ordered his car from the same people who make NASCAR race cars, although he had a trusted mechanic alter it a bit to make it more suitable for fighting crime."

"You mean that thing is street legal?" I said.

"Yes," said Adams. "He had to get a special permit from the government for it, but the Rubbermobile is as legal as any other car out there. He does have to be careful, though, because the roads are not designed for such a fast car."

"Does he ever race in actual races with it?" I said in excitement.

"No, although he has been looking into NASCAR sponsorships," said Adams. "Some superheros do quite well with them, although Mr. Pullman does not want the Rubbermobile to be used for anything other than crime fighting."

"Does it have any merch based off of it?" I said.

"Almost as much as Rubberman himself," said Adams. "There was a series of collectible race cars released a few years back and the Rubbermobile was one of them as a special collector's item. It is quite popular, especially among young boys and men your age."

"Can I go down and see it up close?" I said.

"Yes, but be careful not to touch it," said Adams. "Mr. Pullman would be quite displeased if you scratched it."

I was already halfway down the stairs to the bottom floor even before Adams finished speaking. I jumped the last few steps and raced over to the Rubbermobile. Up close, it was even cooler, although I stopped a few feet away from it in reverence. It was even shinier up close, if that was possible, and I could see my reflection in the windows so clearly that it was like staring into a mirror, albeit a tinted one. I carefully walked around the car, looking at every inch of its beautiful form. I didn't touch it, just as Adams told me, but it was hard to resist the temptation to run my finger along its shiny surface. I could just imagine how smooth it would feel. It made me jealous.

I looked up at Adams suddenly. "How much did it cost?"

Adams--who was still walking down the stairs, the slowpoke--shouted back down at me, "More money than you'll earn working three minimum wage jobs full-time for a year without breaks."

I looked at the Rubbermobile again, feeling slightly crushed by that answer. I figured that it was well outside of my price range, but I had been kind of hoping that my first car would be like the Rubbermobile. Driving a car like the Rubbermobile would get Greta's attention for sure; for that matter, it would probably get me the attention of every other girl not just in my school, but in the entire city, too. Guess I'd just have to settle with whatever I could save up for.

"Is this all that is on Level Two, Adams?" I said, turning to look at the old butler as he finally reached the bottom of the steps.

"This is it," said Adams, gesturing at the rest of the chamber. "Aside from the Rubbermobile, we have plenty of extra tires, oil, windows, and various other spare parts to replace any broken or damaged parts on the car. Most maintenance is done in Level Two itself."

"Really?" I said. "Do you do the maintenance?"

"Some of it," said Adams, "mostly the basic things. For more advanced problems, Mr. Pullman has a trusted mechanic who he calls up to come and work on it when necessary."

"You don't take it to a shop?" I said.

"Of course not," said Adams. "The Rubbermobile is a one of a kind vehicle. Mr. Pullman does not want its secrets known to the wider world, because there are plenty of other superheroes who want to copy his secrets and that includes the Rubbermobile. The mechanic, Mr. Jameson, is an old friend of Mr. Pullman's, which is why he is one of the few people who does not work for Mr. Pullman or the government who is allowed to come into the Elastic Cave."

"That makes sense," I said. "But how does it get to the surface?"

Adams gestured at the huge round doors I'd noticed earlier. "Those doors lead to a tunnel that is connected to an abandoned building from which the Rubbermobile emerges. That particular entrance is secret, known only to a few people, but even if it was known, the doors are made of titanium steel, meaning that it would take an absurd amount of power to even dent it."

I nodded, but then a question occurred to me. "Adams, Rubberman took the Rubbermobile when he went to fight Fro-Zen, right?"

"That's correct," said Adams.

"Then how did the Rubbermobile get back here?" I said. "Did you drive it?"

"It drove itself back," said Adams. "That is the biggest secret of the Rubbermobile: It has a basic AI that allows it to drive itself around, which includes dodging obstacles, changing route in response to blockades or other problems, and so on."

"Really?" I said in surprise. "You mean Rubberman doesn't have to drive it?"

"He still does," said Adams. "It simply has two modes: Automatic, which is where the AI takes control, and manual, which is when Rubberman is driving it. But the AI can activate in case of emergency; for example, if Rubberman is knocked unconscious, the AI will kick in and make sure that the Rubbermobile does not crash."

"It's even cooler than I thought," I said. "Where did the AI come from?"

"That's not important," said Adams. "But you shouldn't expect the AI to do everything for you. It is technically only programmed to keep the car on the road and return to base; otherwise, it can't do anything else and is certainly not a miracle machine."

"Even with those limitations, it's still awesome," I said. "I wish I had an automated car."

"Very few superheroes do, since the technology is still very new," said Adams. "But Mr. Pullman believes that automated cars are going to be the next big trend in the superhero industry, so, as usual, he wants to be ahead of the game before anyone even knows that there is a game to be played."

"Does that mean sidekicks will get one, too?" I said.

"Don't push your luck," said Adams. "The Rubbermobile is very expensive. Getting another car, even a cheaper one, would just be another unnecessary expense; besides, the Rubbermobile can seat four people, so chances are Mr. Pullman will let you ride with him at some point anyway."

"What about a motorcycle?" I said. "I've never driven a motorcycle before, but they're really cool and it could probably be made into a toy or something like that if he wants to make money off it."

"Motorcycles were a big thing among superheroes in the nineties, but they died out in the early oughts, so I doubt Mr. Pullman will bother to buy you a motorcycle," said Adams, waving off my idea like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"Aw, come on," I said. "It could be awesome. It could be called the Beamscycle or the Eyebike."

Adams just stared at me like I was an idiot. "I now see why Mr. Pullman has never asked for your opinion on branding."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said.

"It doesn't matter," said Adams. "Anyway, I've shown you the Rubbermobile, so I think that it is time for us to go back to Level One."

"What? Why?" I said. "Isn't there anything else down here you can show me?"

"There's really not much else, aside from the storage rooms where the extra tires and the like are kept and the laundry room," said Adams. "Besides, your shift is nearly over, and Mr. Pullman was clear on making sure that you do not stay longer than you need. He doesn't want to pay you overtime."

I frowned, but said, "Okay, but what about Level Three? You mentioned that the Elastic Cave has three levels when I first came to work here. What's on Level Three?"

"Nothing you need to see," said Adams abruptly. "It goes mostly unused; besides, only Mr. Pullman has access to Level Three. It requires a password to enter in the elevator's control panel, a password even I don't have, so I couldn't take you down there even if I wanted."

"Are you sure?" I said. "Because Level Three sounds pretty interesting."

"I am quite sure," said Adams. He turned around. "Now, follow me back to the elevator. I have only a couple more things for you to do and I would like to get them done before you end your shift for the day. Mr. Pullman would be quite displeased if he learned that some of your responsibilities went undone while he was in the hospital."

I nodded, but then glanced at the Rubbermobile. I wondered if Fro-Zen had driven in it with Rubberman before he became evil. I also wondered if I should bring up what I learned about Fro-Zen or not to Adams, but decided against it. For now, I would just go and do whatever work Adams wanted me to do and then I would leave and go home in time for dinner. Perhaps I'd ask Rubberman about Fro-Zen later, when he got back from the hospital.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful, all things considered. I fell into a stable routine: Get up, go to school, go to work afterward, and then come home, eat dinner, and go to sleep. I always came home from work very tired, so tired that I couldn't do much more other than eat dinner and go to sleep afterward, which helped me understand why Dad always seemed so tired whenever he came home from work.

Adams continued my training sessions with me, because Rubberman was still in the hospital recovering from his fight with Fro-Zen. Adams must have been a good teacher, because his guidance helped me to become more and more efficient at controlling my powers. I even got to the point where I could make a small laser beam that could cut small holes in things; however, my accuracy was still not quite as good as it could be, because I kept missing the center of the targets we used for practice, plus the concentration required to focus my eye beams was difficult to achieve. Still, I was no longer afraid of losing control over my powers, although I always felt a bit nervous whenever I used them.

As for Rubberman, he was apparently recovering very quickly, much more quickly than the doctors first assumed he would, and so there was a chance that he might be back in the Elastic Cave by next week. I still wasn't allowed to visit him; however, I did get to talk to him on the phone once. He told me that he was glad to hear that my training was going well and that he was going to have a special assignment for me when he got back from the hospital. He didn't go into detail about what it would entail, but he told me that I would probably enjoy it. I figured that Rubberman was going to teach me how to use the Rubbermobile; that was probably more wishful thinking than anything, but hey, what's so wrong with that?

There was no news of Fro-Zen's whereabouts at all during the week. I should know, because I set up an alert system on my phone to send me any news articles or reports about any sightings of Fro-Zen online. I kept track of him not because I wanted to fight him, but because I wanted to make sure he didn't come after me. It seemed unlikely that Fro-Zen would try to get me, considering how he still didn't know I even existed, but better to be safe than sorry, in my opinion.

I also resumed my research into Fro-Zen's past with Rubberman, but there were frustratingly few articles about what caused their falling out. The most I could find was a gossip article from 2013 that theorized that Fro-Zen had been brainwashed by the government in some sort of attempt to discredit sidekicks and push for the criminalization of that profession, but that article had no real facts in it, just the writer's opinion. Another article, written a year later, claimed that Fro-Zen and Rubberman had been gay lovers who had had a lover's spat after Rubberman cheated on Fro-Zen with a gay escort, although that article had even less facts than the government brainwashing one.

It seemed like no one knew for sure what caused Fro-Zen to become a supervillain. I shouldn't have been surprised; given how secretive Rubberman was, it made sense that he would make sure that private information like this would not be leaked to the public. I did find it odd that Fro-Zen apparently never bothered to tell anyone why he went crazy, even after he was arrested. All of the articles written about Fro-Zen's court trial made it sound like Fro-Zen was completely silent during his trial, even to the point of refusing to answer questions from the judge. That's probably why he ended up going to jail, although one article stated that Fro-Zen broke out of custody, before he could be officially put behind bars, and disappeared after that.

It was clear, from my research, that Fro-Zen had vanished off the face of the Earth after escaping custody. There were no articles about what he was doing between the time he broke out of custody and the time he came back to Golden City. My guess was that he went into hiding, laid low for a while to avoid being arrested again, although that didn't explain why he reappeared out of nowhere recently. Maybe he was trying to get revenge on Rubberman, but if so, why wait so long? Clearly, Fro-Zen had a plan, although what that plan entailed and what its ultimate goal was (aside from killing Rubberman, of course), I didn't know.

In any case, I was quite glad when Saturday rolled around, because that meant I didn't have to go to work. Oh, I was enjoying my job all right, but I was starting to get too obsessed with researching Fro-Zen, so I wanted to take my mind off things for a while. Frank and I decided to hang out on Saturday by going to the Golden City Park, which had since been cleaned of the ice that had covered a large portion of it after Fro-Zen's attack. It had been a while since I last went to the park, so I thought it was just the thing I'd need after a long week cooped up underground or inside my classroom (which often felt like being trapped underground).

On Saturday morning, Frank and I sat on a park bench, eating hot dogs that we'd bought from the hot dog vendor who based his business in the park. There weren't too many people in the park today; the hot dog vendor told us that Fro-Zen's attack on the park had caused attendance to collapse, although he was confident that people would start coming back, because there had been a similar clash between Rubberman and another supervillain here about a year ago that had caused a similar collapse in attendance only for attendance levels to snap back to normal just a few weeks later. I vaguely recalled hearing about that battle, but I decided not to think about it. I just wanted to focus on hanging out with Frank and taking it easy for the day.

"So," said Frank between mouthfuls of hot dog, "my sister told me to get out of her room and never come back. She didn't even let me grab my stuffed possum. I found it outside the window of her room later, though, and it was just a little dirty, so I wasn't too angry about it."

I nodded. I had been listening to Frank tell me a weird story about him and his sister that happened yesterday. I didn't quite understand all of it, however, so I said, "And where did you get the stuffed possum from again?"

"I won it when my family went to Disney World last year," said Frank. "Remember? It was in a crane game. First time I ever won a crane game prize."

"Oh," I said. "Right. I forgot about that. I thought you'd gotten rid of that thing at some point."

"I would never get rid of Mr. Possum," Frank said in a solemn tone. "He's one of my best friends, just like you."

"Um ..." I didn't know what to say to that, so I took another bite out of my hot dog to avoid having to answer.

"Anyway, where do you keep running off to after school?" said Frank.

I almost choked on my hot dog, but managed to swallow it, although it hurt and caused my eyes to water. I looked at Frank through watery eyes. "What?"

"Every day after school, you're almost always the first one out," said Frank. "And you don't go home, because you don't go back in the direction of your house. So what are you doing?"

I gulped. I always made sure that no one followed me whenever I went to the Elastic Cave, but I had hoped that Frank wouldn't notice that I never went directly back home after school. But I couldn't just tell him that I was a sidekick; if he knew, I would get my license revoked and I wouldn't be able to be a sidekick anymore. I hadn't expected him to just ask me about where I go up front like this, though.

"Uh, well, you see, I actually do go home every day," I said. "I just, er, take a different route back home than I do in the morning."

"Really?" said Frank. "Is it a short cut?"

"Yeah," I said, perhaps a bit more quickly than I should have. "I mean, it's short from the school to home, but it isn't from home to school."

That sounded really stupid and probably made me look like an idiot, but Frank, thankfully, just nodded and said, "Oh, okay. I thought you went off to see a girl or something."

"I don't have a girlfriend," I said, rolling my eyes. "And anyway, you know I like Greta."

"But you still haven't asked her out," Frank pointed out. "Got any plans for doing that?"

I waved off Frank's question. "I'll do it sometime. I just need money and a car first."

"Where are you going to get money and a car?" said Frank. "Do you have a job or something?"

"I'll figure it out," I said. "Don't worry about it. Is it really any of your business anyway, whether I ask out Greta or not?"

Frank shrugged. "Not really, but I'm getting kind of tired of you always looking at her or talking about her and never actually approaching her. You should be more like your older brother."

"James is different," I said, trying not to sound defensive. "He's a lot taller and stronger and better-looking than me, so of course he has an easier time asking girls out."

"So what?" said Frank. "Just take a leaf from his book and be all confident and stuff. Girls like confidence."

"And how would you know?" I said. "You've never had a girlfriend, either."

"Yeah, but at least I'm not always talking about the girls I like and never doing anything about it," said Frank. "Unlike a certain somebody I know, of course."

I was about to respond in kind when I glanced across the park and saw someone standing among the bushes and trees on the other side. It was a tall man who was quite clearly looking at us, although the shade cast by the tree branches made it difficult to make out his features or identify him. The best I could make out was that he wore a wide-brimmed hat and a dark overcoat, which had the effect of blocking out his features and yet making him stand out like a sore thumb among the trees, too. I looked around, but didn't see anyone else in the park nearby who that man could have been with.

"Uh, Frank?" I said, looking at my friend again. I gestured in the direction of the trees and bushes. "Do you see someone standing in the trees and bushes over there staring at us?"

Frank looked in the direction in which I gestured, but then shook his head and said, "No. I just see trees and stuff."

I whipped my head back in that direction. The mysterious man was no longer standing there; in fact, it looked like no one had been standing there at all. I didn't understand how a man like that could just up and vanish in the span of a couple of seconds.

"But I saw someone," I said. "He was staring right at us."

"Are you sure it wasn't just a tree?" said Frank. "Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you or something."

I shook my head. "No, I definitely saw someone. Maybe he's hiding behind a tree or something."

"Those trees don't look wide enough for someone to hide behind unless the guy was really skinny or something," said Frank. "It probably wasn't anything."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was," I said. I readjusted my glasses and looked back toward the trees, but again saw nothing. "I saw someone there. Who, I don't know, but they were there."

"Then why don't you call the police?" said Frank. "Let them know there's some creepy guy in the park staring at teenagers." He suddenly looked down at his hot dog as if he had just had a grim realization. "Now that I think about it, I think I want to go home."

"I don't want to call the police only for it to turn out to be nothing," I said. "If I see the guy again, then maybe I will call the police."

"Okay," said Frank. He took a bite out of his hot dog. "Good idea. My uncle's a police officer and he doesn't like it whenever people call him for false alarms, so that's probably the best idea."

I nodded, but I still looked over at the trees. They were still devoid of people, but I still felt like someone was watching us. "I want to go over there and check."

"Why?" said Frank. "What if that guy turns out to be trouble?"

"It's the only way to know for sure," I said as I hopped off the bench. "Besides, I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

That was true. I did feel pretty safe ever since gaining better control over my eye beams. I figured that if the guy watching us was some kind of threat, I could handle him easily, especially if he was just an ordinary human being and not a supervillain or something.

I handed Frank my half-eaten hot dog and said, "Hold my hot dog. If anything happens, call the police."

Frank looked pretty doubtful, but he nonetheless took my hot dog in his other hand and watched me as I made my way across the park to the trees and bushes on the other side. As I approached the trees and bushes, my nerves started to rise. I tried to keep my cool, but it was more difficult than you'd imagine. I had no idea who this guy was or whether he was friendly or not. For all I knew, he could have been a dangerous madman on the run from the law or something like that. Of course, he might not even exist at all, but I had to check anyway just to be sure. I did ready my eye beams, however, just in case he tried to attack me.

I paused on the edge of the trees and listened, but did not hear anything except for the chirping of a few birds in the trees and a squirrel chattering somewhere in the branches above me. I heard nothing that sounded like a human, but maybe the tall guy was standing still and holding his breath. Only one way to find out.

Bracing myself for what was on the other side, I stepped into the trees. Nothing happened; I wasn't attacked, nor did anyone come out of the woodwork to see me. I did, however, discover a pair of footprints in the dirt. They were really big, too, which told me that the guy who stood there must have had very large feet. It was kind of exciting to see them, actually, because it confirmed that I really had seen someone after all. But where did he go? I looked around, but saw nothing. Nor were there any footsteps leading anywhere; it was like he had vanished into thin air. I can't say that that left me with any real sense of relief.

I took a few more steps in, but again did not see him. I stopped and rotated on the spot, carefully looking at my surroundings to make sure that he wasn't hiding there until I saw something stuck to one of the trees a few feet away from me. It was a plain white note, pinned to the tree with a red push pin, but I couldn't read it because it was pinned backwards. I looked to the left and to the right again, wondering if the note was for me or for someone else, but no one stepped out of the woodwork, so I walked over to the note, tore it off the tree and turned it over. It was a short note, written in a sprawling handwriting I'd never seen before, but that only served to enhance its creepiness, because the note was addressed to me. It read:

ALEX--I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. IF YOU DO NOT WANT YOUR SECRET LEAKED TO THE WORLD, VISIT ME IN GOLDEN CITY PARK TONIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. COME BY YOURSELF. AND IF YOU TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS OR DO NOT COME, YOUR FAMILY WILL SUFFER.

The note was unsigned and, because I didn't recognize the handwriting, I didn't know who could have possibly written it.

But I could guess about the secret it mentioned: My secret identity as Beams. Somehow, the letter writer knew who I was and he planned to reveal it to the world if I didn't meet him. If he did, I would lose my sidekick license for sure.

Maybe this was just a practical joke. Maybe the letter writer was just trolling me or referring to some other secret I had (God knows my job isn't the only secret I have). But that was unlikely. Threatening to make someone's family 'suffer' if they don't meet your demands is not my idea of a joke. That meant that this letter was serious and I wouldn't be able to simply ignore it.

Then I heard crunching leaves behind me and instinctively whirled around. I almost unleashed my laser blasts, thinking that it was the letter writer coming up behind me to attack me, but then I saw that it was just Frank. He carried our hot dogs in his hands and wore a worried and startled expression on his face.

"Whoa, Alex, watch out," said Frank, holding up the hot dogs like shields. "It's just me. I came in because you left my line of sight and I wanted to make sure you didn't get snatched by some creeper or something."

I relaxed, letting my eyeballs cool down, but I hid the letter behind my back and let it fall to the ground behind me where Frank couldn't see it. I didn't want Frank to see it because I didn't want him to get worried about me, nor did I want him to suspect that I was a sidekick. "Oh, it's nothing, Frank. Turns out my eyes were just playing tricks on me after all. Let's go back to the bench, finish our hot dogs, and then find something else to do. We've got all day, so let's not waste it."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mom would probably have a heart attack if she knew that I was sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to go meet some strange man in Golden City Park. Dad would probably call me an idiot and James would probably shake his head and tell me that he had sneaked out of the house loads of time to go meet girls when he was younger and he never got caught. Of course, joke's on James, because tonight, I didn't tell anyone what I was doing or where I was going.

I didn't sneak out of the house very much, mostly because I never really had anywhere I wanted to go. As you might have been able to guess, that was James' shtick. He used to sneak out of the house all the time when he was my age and, much to my surprise, he had taught me a few of the tricks he used to do it without Mom or Dad ever being aware. I never understood why he choose to teach me that particular skill out of all of the skills he knew (I would have preferred to learn how he got all the girls), but as I biked through the dark streets of Golden City, alone and silent, I was thankful that James had chosen to share that bit of brotherly wisdom with me, even if he would never know how I used it.

I had spent the rest of the day trying to figure out if I should go to this meeting or not. It seemed like the kind of stupid thing that Dad was always telling me not to do, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the threat was real and that it would be even stupider not to go. I kind of wish I'd brought my Beams costume along, but it was currently hanging in the closet of my room back in the Elastic Cave, so I just had to go in a hoodie and jeans for this particular adventure. At least I could use my eye beams; hopefully that would be enough to get me out of any hairy situation I might find myself in tonight.

As I rode, I half-hoped that someone--a police officer, a random bystander, anyone--would stop me and demand to know what a kid my age was doing out so late at night. But Golden City's streets were extremely quiet tonight; that was pretty unusual, given that night time was usually when criminals were most active in the city. Maybe it was because it was so cold; it wasn't freezing, but it was cold enough that I had to put on my gloves so that my hands wouldn't get frozen to my bike's handle bar.

As a result, I made it to Golden City Park in record time. The park was incredibly silent as I rode my bike down the bike paths; aside from my own breathing and the sounds of my bike chain and wheels, it was totally silent. I had no idea where, exactly, I was supposed to meet the letter writer, nor how I would identify him once I saw him. While Golden City Park was by no means gigantic, it was not a small little park, either, and you could easily get lost if you didn't stick to the main paths or know your way around this place. Especially at night; even though there were street lamps placed along the main paths, they didn't do much to illuminate the areas beyond the paths, dark areas where potential assailants could be hiding just out of sight.

Indeed, I almost turned around to leave before I spotted someone sitting on a bench up ahead underneath one of the street lamps. The bench was set in front of the bronze statue of Harold Golden, the founder of Golden City, which depicted him riding a horse. The man sitting on the bench, however, was not looking at the statue. He had his head down, making it impossible to see his face, but I didn't need to in order to know that that was the guy I'd seen earlier in the day, the guy who had watched me and Frank talking and eating. The wide-brimmed hat and the overcoat were distinctive enough that I couldn't have mistaken him for anyone else.

Not certain what to expect, I nonetheless prepared a small laser blast as I rode up to him. I gradually slowed down the closer I got to him, until I came to a stop a dozen feet away; if this guy was going to try to kidnap or harm me, I wanted to make him work for it.

The guy didn't raise his head to look at me when I stopped, but I did see his head incline toward me, as if he was trying to listen to me better.

"Uh, hello?" I said to the guy. "Are you the guy who left that note on that tree for me earlier today?"

The guy nodded. "Yes. I hoped you would find it. Glad to see that you did."

The guy's voice was gravelly, like he was speaking through a mouthful of dirt. I also noticed that he gave off a general cold aura, as if he had just been standing inside a freezer for the past few hours and hadn't had any time to warm up. Of course, he had probably been sitting out here in the cold for a while, although he wasn't shivering for some reason.

Not knowing what else to say, I said, "Well, then who are you? And why did you threaten to harm my family? What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing, kid," said the guy, a slight growl to his gravelly voice. "You and I don't know each other, never even met, but we're far more similar than you think."

"Um, you do know that I'm a sixteen-year-old kid and you're a creepy guy in an overcoat, right?" I said. "Not seeing the similarities. And you still haven't told me your name."

The guy suddenly looked up and removed his hat. I now found myself staring at a face I'd only see in pictures on the Internet, although it was older than the pictures I'd seen, yet strangely youthful as well.

"Fro-Zen?" I said in shock. I would have probably fallen off my bike if it was still in motion.

Fro-Zen smiled, although it was not a very happy smile. "I don't go by that name anymore. Call me Bend. It's my honest name."

I had no idea what he meant by 'honest' name, but I also didn't care to find out. I took a few steps back, my hands holding onto my handle bar. "You're dangerous. I'm going to call the police."

I reached for my phone, but Fro-Zen said, "You don't feel confident that you could blast me to pieces, Beams? I see that Dennis' training methods have degraded over time. When I was your age, I was ready to fight criminals and supervillains one week after I first started working for him. Perhaps Dennis just doesn't want you to be too strong for him to control."

I froze; not literally, of course, but when he used my sidekick name, I was shocked. "How do you know who I am? I haven't told anyone outside of my family, Rubberman, and Adams."

"I have my ways," said Fro-Zen. "What matters is that calling the police would be a very unwise move. It certainly would be ... tragic if the police arrived just in time to find a second statue adorning this beautiful park's paths. It might even cause that old rubber bastard to fall into a depression. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"

"I should still call the police," I said, although I didn't grab my phone; I was still too stunned with fear to move. "Even if you kill me, at least they will be able to find some clues that will help them find you."

Fro-Zen sighed and sat back in his bench. "I don't want to kill you, Alex. I don't even want to harm you. I only want to talk."

"Just talk?" I said.

"Just talk," said Fro-Zen. I noticed the air that came from his mouth was cold, like how it looked whenever I breathed when it was cold out. "Once we're done, you can go back home and get back in bed before your parents realize you're missing. Trust me, I remember what it was like to be your age; I wouldn't want to get you into trouble. Well, not that kind of trouble, anyway."

My mind said that Fro-Zen was just lying to make me lower my guard, but my gut instinct told me that Fro-Zen was telling the truth. I decided to trust my gut, if only because my mind was too paralyzed with fear to do anything else.

"Okay," I said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"The one thing we have in common," said Fro-Zen. "The rubber bastard, or, as he likes to call himself, Rubberman."

"You put him in the hospital," I said. "You nearly killed him."

"Thanks for the news report, Captain Obvious," said Fro-Zen, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I was there when I did that or anything."

"You still tried to kill him," I said. "And you also held those elementary school students hostage four years ago and killed Slinger. You should be in jail."

Fro-Zen pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and then smoked it before saying, in a more relaxed tone, "Perhaps. But I see you don't understand why I did all of that."

"I don't need to," I said. "Y-You're a supervillain, a murderer, and an all around bad guy. You should be in prison."

Fro-Zen chuckled. "Ah, I remember when I was that naive and dumb. Listen, kid; there's no such thing as black or white in this world. Only shades of gray, some darker or lighter than others, true, but no one is pure white. Just ask Dennis; he has a few skeletons in his closet, like every bastard in this industry."

"Why did you fall out with Rubberman?" I said. "None of the articles I read explained why you betrayed him."

"Betrayed him? I betrayed no one," said Fro-Zen with a snort. "It was Rubberman--and by extension, every other superhero in this business--who betrayed me and every naive kid who became a sidekick to do the right thing."

"I don't understand," I said. "How could everyone betray you? It doesn't make sense."

"Was I really that naive when I was your age?" said Fro-Zen. He shook his head. "Anyway, you don't understand what I'm saying. I wasn't betrayed personally. It was an ideological betrayal. Do you know why I became a sidekick in the first place?"

"Um, no," I said. I grimaced at the stink of the smoke from his cigarette; I never enjoyed the smell of smoking and Fro-Zen's cigarette smoke was making me like him even less than I already did. "Was it to get money?"

"Money." Fro-Zen snorted, as if I had just insulted him. "Money is exactly why I quit working for Rubberman. I don't want money. I don't care about money. I don't even need it. I became a sidekick because I cared about doing the right thing, about fighting supervillains and criminals and making the streets of Golden City--and, really, the country in general--a safer place for everyone. Lots of other sidekicks I met did it for the same reason."

Fro-Zen leaned forward and puffed on his cigarette for a moment before continuing. "I wanted to be a hero. I grew up thinking that superheroes fought for truth, justice, and the American way. That's how that phrase goes, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but don't they do that? I mean, Rubberman has defeated loads of supervillains and criminals before, right?"

"Yeah, but not out of the goodness of his heart," said Fro-Zen. His tone became even more bitter. "He didn't go into the business because he wanted to save the world or protect people. Like every other superhero, he wanted the money. He saw an opportunity to become filthy rich. He doesn't care about the average person. He only cares about whatever will advance his career and swell his bank account."

"Well, can't he make money and keep the people safe, too?" I said. "It's not like those goals are mutually exclusive, after all."

"Ah, but sometimes they are," said Fro-Zen. "I presume Dennis has never told you about the woman he left to die because she couldn't afford his services?"

"No, he didn't," I said.

"Of course not," said Fro-Zen. "Dennis has a tendency to keep secrets from everyone, including his employees. Wouldn't want people knowing just how much of a money-grubbing bastard he is, eh?"

My temper rose at Fro-Zen's attack on Rubberman's character, but I said, in a calm tone, "Tell me what happened."

"Very well," said Fro-Zen. He puffed on his cigarette for a moment before starting. "About a month after I started working for Dennis, a woman approached us. She was a pretty young thing, but also pretty poor. She claimed that she was being stalked by a supervillain, her ex-husband who was trying to kill her. She wanted us to protect her, since we were offering bodyguard services at the time. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't afford our rates and Dennis wouldn't lower them even after she showed us proof that she was in terrible danger. I tried to get Dennis to make an exception for her, but Dennis told me that it wouldn't be a wise use of our time and money, so we sent the woman away."

"What happened to the woman?" I said.

"She was killed by her ex-husband not a day after we rejected her plea for help," said Fro-Zen. He laughed, a harsh sound. "We could have prevented it. We could have saved her, but Dennis was just a greedy bastard who cared more about tie-in toy lines and movie deals than saving the lives of innocent people. That's what started me down the path to discovering the truth about the superhero industry." He looked at me with creepy eyes; it looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep. "Know what I found out, kid?"

I shook my head, although I had a feeling I already knew. "No, what?"

"Most superheroes are like Dennis," said Fro-Zen. "For all their talk about protecting the people and fighting evil, they really care more about money and branding than anything. They'll reject certain things while embracing others if they believe it will help their business. Usually, that means leaving poor people to fend for themselves while providing the rich with even more protection than they already have or doing lucrative licensing deals over helping innocent people who need their aid. It's the dark secret of the superhero industry; most are in it for the money and are willing to do anything to get it, even if that means putting innocent lives in danger."

"Maybe Rubberman made a mistake," I said, although even I didn't think I sounded very persuasive. "How do you know he hasn't changed?"

"Because I know Dennis, and I know he's a greedy bastard," said Fro-Zen. "All superheroes are the same. They put money first, fame second, and the people dead last, if they even consider them at all. They're not much different from the supervillains and criminals they claim to oppose; the only difference is that they have the government's blessing."

I bit my lower lip, but then a thought occurred to me and I pointed at Fro-Zen. "But you killed Slinger. I read about it online. How does that make you better than him?"

"Slinger was a bastard through and through, even worse than Dennis in my opinion," said Fro-Zen. "He paid off more than a few politicians to look the other way while he did all sorts of horrible things. Trust me, the world is better off without him. And the world will be better off once Dennis is dead, too."

"So you want to kill Rubberman," I said. "Is that your ultimate goal? Your big master plan?"

"Killing Dennis is just one part of it," said Fro-Zen. He spread his arms, like he was trying to indicate the whole world. "I want to destroy the superhero industry and the people in the government who enable it with their laws. The entire industry is corrupt to its core; there are only a handful of people who are even trying to do the right thing, but even they get distracted by greed and fame. All of it must be burned to the ground."

"What gives you the right to do that?" I said. "And, if that's your goal, then why did you disappear for so long? What have you been doing since breaking out of prison?"

Fro-Zen lowered his arms and smoked his cigarette. "What gives me the right? I took it upon myself. It's about the only lesson from Dennis that I've kept: 'If you want something done right, you'd better do it yourself.' I don't need anyone's approval to do the right thing."

I found myself in agreement with him, disturbingly enough. It made me wonder just how different from him I really was.

"As for what I've been doing for the past four years, training and planning, of course," said Fro-Zen. "I'm not the only disgruntled ex-sidekick or even ex-superhero who thinks this way. There are more of us--far more of us--than you'd think. And I am the one who has brought us all together." He looked at me with a crazy grin. "And together, we're going to turn not just this industry, but the whole world, upside down. We're the real heroes, not greedy bastards like Rubberman or Slinger."

"Not unless we stop you," I said, although my voice shook when I spoke, probably due to how cold the air around me was.

"How terrifying," said Fro-Zen in an amused voice. "Listen, kid, the superhero industry has grown corrupt to its core. It's a tree whose roots became diseased long ago, and I am the one who will cut it down and toss it on the fire to burn for eternity."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I said. "Aren't you afraid that I will tell Rubberman and other people about this?"

"Dennis already knows what I'm doing because I told him as much when I quit working for him four years ago," said Fro-Zen. "I'm telling you this because I see a lot of myself in you: Young, naive, and wanting to do the right thing. You do want to do the right thing, don't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, although I also want to save up for a car."

"I wanted to do the same thing, although my greater motivation was to be a hero," said Fro-Zen. "So I'm offering you a choice: Join me in burning the corrupt tree that is the superhero industry or suffer the same fate that awaits Dennis and every other corrupt son of a bitch in this industry."

"You want me to join you?" I said. "Why?"

"Because I think you're a good kid at heart," said Fro-Zen, "ignorant because Dennis kept you that way, rather than because you don't want to know the truth. I wanted you to have the knowledge that you could use to make the right choice yourself."

I stood there, shivering slightly in the cold despite my jacket. I didn't like what Fro-Zen said at all, but at the same time, I couldn't deny that there was some truth to what he said. It did seem weird to me that superheroism was a business. Shouldn't superheroes do the right thing because it's the right thing to do, not because they will get paid for it? The thought of rejecting or ignoring an innocent person's plea for help just because they couldn't afford our fee was uncomfortable, to say the least, even if it was legal.

On the other hand, Fro-Zen struck me as mentally unhinged. I didn't know if he'd always been like this or if he had simply grown more and more insane over the years. I wondered if he had met anyone who had influenced him to think this way or if he had simply come to these conclusions all on his own. Either way, even if his conclusions were right, I wasn't sure I could support someone as clearly unhinged as him. For that matter, I didn't think Mom and Dad would be especially thrilled if I told them that I had quit my first job to join a guy who everyone considered a supervillain.

"Will you kill me if I reject your offer?" I said.

"Here and now? No," said Fro-Zen, shaking his head. He smoked his cigarette and then breathed out a small smoke cloud. "If you say no, I'll let you go back home and continue working for Dennis. But if we ever find ourselves in battle, I won't hesitate to kill you like I want to kill Dennis, because I will see you as a supporter of the very industry that I despise with all my heart."

"Can I think about this first?" I said. "I want to do my own research to see if you're telling the truth."

"Fine," said Fro-Zen. He stood up and brushed off his overcoat. "If you ever want to talk to me again, here is my phone number."

Fro-Zen drew a folded up card out of his pocket and threw it at me. I caught the card and unfolded it to see that it had nothing but a ten digit phone number on it.

"Once you make your decision, just dial that number and we can talk," said Fro-Zen. "Until then, don't let Dennis' lies fool you. The longer you stand in a swamp, the dirtier you become."

With that, Fro-Zen turned and walked away. I watched him go until he vanished into the shadows, leaving me feeling uncertain what to believe now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN

I made it home pretty quickly and without anyone noticing that I had been missing, but I couldn't sleep. I was tired, sure, but my mind was distracted by everything Fro-Zen had told me. I didn't want to believe a word he said and I told myself that he was just a liar, but his words had hit me in a way I hadn't realized. I didn't want to say it, but there was some truth to his words. He raised some good points about the morality of the superhero business, points I couldn't refute. But I mean, the entire industry couldn't have been rotten, right? Maybe it was just a few bad apples and Fro-Zen was just overreacting. Destroying the whole industry couldn't have been a reasonable course of action, right? He was just mentally ill or disillusioned by the realities of the business or something.

Of course, I didn't believe a word of what I told myself, but the alternative was just too dreadful for me to accept. I couldn't accept the idea that Rubberman was a greedy, money-grubbing jerk who didn't care about the lives of innocent people. Sure, he focused on money and business a lot, but that's because he had a business to run. Surely he would never put an innocent person's life in danger just because it wouldn't make business sense to protect them, would he?

I did not know the answer to that question and I kept turning it over in mind until my alarm went off and I realized that it was morning. Having not gotten a wink of sleep that night, I nonetheless rushed out of bed, took a shower, and almost ran out of my room, but then I remembered that today was Sunday, which meant that I didn't have either school or work. Still, I went downstairs to breakfast, where I found Mom and Dad already awake. Mom, wearing her old white apron, was making eggs and bacon at the stove, while Dad was sitting in his chair at the table, reading the news on his tablet while sipping from his coffee every now and then. Mom was whistling a happy tune, while Dad looked like he was still waking up.

"Alex," said Mom, looking over her shoulder at me as I entered the kitchen. "Want some eggs and bacon? I just made a delicious batch."

My stomach grumbled when I smelled the eggs and bacon, so I nodded and said, "Sure."

I took a seat at my spot on the table, but Dad didn't lower his tablet to look at me. He just said, "Good morning," his eyes still stuck on his tablet. But that was fine; I was too tired to talk. I just wanted to eat.

Mom came over with a plate of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, which she put in front me along with a fork and knife. "Here you go, Alex. Made just the way you like them."

"Thanks, Mom," I said as I took the fork and knife into my hands. "This looks great."

"You're welcome," said Mom, but then she paused and looked at me more closely with some concern. "Alex, you look tired. Did you sleep well last night?"

I had been about to put some eggs in my mouth, but froze when they were halfway between my mouth and the plate. Uh oh. I should have realized that Mom would notice that I was tired; you couldn't hide anything from Mom. But I had forgotten that and now I didn't have a good excuse for why I had not gotten much sleep last night.

"Uh, no, I didn't," I said. "I was, uh--"

"Worried about Rubberman?" Mom finished for me.

Internally, I sighed, but aloud I said, "Uh, yeah. His fight with Fro-Zen left him in pretty critical condition and he's still in the hospital."

"I know," said Mom. She shook her head. "I know it's part of the job, but I always worry about superheroes. They keep putting themselves in danger and I wonder how any of them manage to survive. It's a miracle that they don't get killed every time they clash with supervillains or criminals."

"Some superheroes do get killed, though," said Dad, without looking up from his tablet. "It's a dangerous profession. The mortality rate is pretty high, even higher than law enforcement or being a soldier in the military. I guess the money they make must be worth it, though."

That made me wince. I was reminded of what Fro-Zen told me last night. If there wasn't any money in this profession, would any of these superheroes even bother to put their lives in danger? That made my stomach twist.

"I'm just glad that Rubberman didn't take you out to fight Fro-Zen," said Mom, rubbing my shoulder. "If he almost got killed, what would have happened to you?"

"Y-Yeah," I said. "Rubberman told me that he's not going to let me fight any criminals or supervillains until I complete my training."

"Training?" Dad repeated. He looked up at me, a curious look on his face. "What kind of training are we talking about?"

"He's teaching me how to use my powers," I said, gesturing at my eyes. "Well, technically, his butler, Adams, is, because Rubberman is still in the hospital. But Adams is a really good teacher. I can already control the temperature and intensity of my blasts."

"That's great," said Dad. "Maybe now I won't have to worry about you blowing up the car just by looking at it, eh?"

I groaned. "Dad, that was just one time."

"I know, I know," said Dad. "But I think a father reserves the right to poke a little fun at his own children every now and then, eh?"

"I guess so," I said. "Still, I would like to start fighting real criminals and supervillains soon. It's pretty boring so far."

"Well, I'm just glad that Rubberman is being responsible and not merely throwing you into combat untrained," said Mom. "He sounds like a great boss."

"Yeah, he is," I said, although I didn't feel like I really believed that, because I was thinking of what Fro-Zen had said. "I don't really have anyone else to compare him to, though, given how he's my first boss."

"He sounds better than the first boss I had at my first job when I was your age," said Dad. "My first boss was crazy. The things he had me do ..." Dad shook his head. "Good times."

"Didn't you tell me that your first boss was good, though?" I said. "You said he taught you a lot of valuable lessons."

"He did, but he was still pretty crazy," said Dad. "Craziness and competence often go hand-in-hand, in my experience."

"Yeah," I said. "I should be getting my first paycheck on Thursday. I'm going to put part of it aside to save up for my car."

"That's great, Alex," said Mom. "Getting your first paycheck will be amazing, won't it?"

"I remember when I got my first paycheck," said Dad. He suddenly frowned. "That's when I decided I didn't care for the government. Good times."

I didn't understand what Dad was talking about, but I supposed it didn't matter. I began eating the hot, buttery eggs, swallowed, and said, "Yeah, getting my first paycheck is gonna be great."

My lack of enthusiasm must have been obvious in my voice, because Dad said, "Alex, you don't sound very happy about that. Got something else on your mind?"

I considered whether I should tell Mom and Dad about my meeting with Fro-Zen. On one hand, they were my parents and deserved to know where I'd been last night. On the other hand, I also didn't want to get into trouble by telling them that I sneaked out of the house to meet a dangerous supervillain in the middle of night all by myself. But was Fro-Zen really a supervillain at all? I wasn't sure anymore.

So I said, "Ah, it's nothing. I was just ... well, do you think that superheroes have an obligation to help everyone, including people who can't afford their services?"

Mom and Dad exchanged puzzled looks. That either meant they had never thought about the question themselves or they were surprised that I had asked it. I wasn't sure which explanation made more sense.

"Well, yes, I do think that," said Mom. "If you have the power to help people, then you should do it even if you don't get paid for it." She looked at Dad. "Jack, what do you think?"

Dad laid his tablet on the table before him. "I agree in principle, Fanny, but at the same time, I think people should be compensated for their work. We pay our police officers and fire fighters to protect us; why shouldn't a superhero also be paid for protecting us?"

"Yeah, but ..." I tried to think of how to phrase it. "If someone comes to you for help but they can't afford your services, should you help them anyway or should you turn them away?"

"That's trickier," said Dad. "How urgently do they need your help?"

"Very urgently," I said. "Like, they will die if you don't help them."

"Then you should obviously help them," said Mom. "It's the right thing to do even if it doesn't make business sense."

"Perhaps, but surely they could go to some other superhero for help, if they really needed it?" said Dad. "Like one whose rates are more affordable?"

"Jackson, that's a cruel thing to say," said Mom. "Some people are too poor to afford any sort of help, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve as much help as anyone else."

"I agree, but that sort of thing can quickly snowball if you're not careful," said Dad. "What if word spreads and you suddenly have loads of people trying to get you to help them for free? You can't run a business on free alone. You'd go bankrupt eventually and then you wouldn't be able to help anyone. It's less about cruelty and more about prudence."

"No one says it has to be a long-term strategy," said Mom, her voice slightly annoyed. "It could just be a short-term tactic just to be charitable, even if it doesn't lead to an immediate payoff."

"True, but you still need to be careful," said Dad. He looked at me suddenly. "What caused you to start thinking about this, Alex? Did something happen at work recently to make you think about it?"

"Nothing," I lied. "I've just been thinking more about superheroes and stuff since I started working for Rubberman. It's just a question that came to me. I didn't expect you guys to have an answer."

In truth, though, I was more confused than ever. I thought both Mom and Dad made good points, but I couldn't help but wonder if Dad's attitude was wrong. I couldn't see myself turning away an innocent person who needed my help even if they couldn't pay me. It just left a bad feeling in my stomach, yet if Fro-Zen had told me the truth, then Rubberman had done that at least once before in the past to disastrous results.

"Well, it's good that you're thinking about these questions," said Mom. "It shows you're thinking, and there are too many people in this world who don't think at all." She shook her head. "Including that wicked Fro-Zen man. If he was thinking, I'm sure he would never have become a villain and tried to kill Rubberman like that."

I bit my lower lip. I put down my fork and knife and stood up. "I think I'm going to ride my bike around."

"But you haven't finished your breakfast yet," said Mom. "Sit down and eat."

"Nah, it's fine, I'm not really that hungry," I said, shrugging off Mom's hand. "I just need to go and get some exercise to clear my head."

Before Mom or Dad could ask me about that, I turned and left the kitchen. I was out of the house in less than ten seconds and on my bike in five. I had no particular destination in mind; I was just going to bike all day and hope that some kind of answer to these questions plaguing me would come to me while I was in motion. Or maybe until I got so tired from biking that I didn't have to think about these questions anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY

On Monday after school, I went straight to the Elastic Cave as usual. Frank tried to stop me, asking if I could come over to his place to help him with his math homework, but I had to tell him that I had to get home. I also passed Greta as she stood outside the school talking to some of her friends, of course, but I didn't talk to her, although I thought I caught her smiling at me as I biked by her. Maybe that was just my imagination.

In any case, when I went down to Level One of the Elastic Cave and exited the elevator, I saw someone who I didn't expect to see down here in a while: Rubberman. He was sitting in front of the Control System, apparently staring at the dozen or so monitors that showed news reports from various news stations. I didn't pay attention to the monitors, though, because I was so shocked to see Rubberman back here already.

"Rubberman?" I said, staring at him in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't going to get out of the hospital for weeks."

Rubberman turned off the monitors (which I noticed mostly featured reports on Fro-Zen) and turned around to face me, his chair rotating with him. He looked okay, but his skin was paler than normal and he looked like he didn't get as much sleep as he normally did. I wondered if he had gotten much sleep last night.

"Oh, hi, Alex," said Rubberman, waving at me. "Glad to see you're on time. How was your weekend?"

"Uh, great," I said. "But you didn't answer my question about what you're doing here."

"The smart answer is that this is my base, so of course I should be here," said Rubberman. "But the honest answer is that I healed up quicker than the doctors expected me to. I'm still not fully well, but as long as I don't overexert myself, I should be okay."

"How did you heal up so quickly?" I said. "You were half-frozen, weren't you?"

"Yes, but what most people don't know is that I have a minor healing factor," said Rubberman. He patted his chest. "It's not strong enough to heal decapitated limbs, of course, but it can heal things like damage from frostbite very quickly. I just have to rest for a while in order for it to work."

"I didn't know you had a healing factor," I said.

"Few do," said Rubberman. "It's generally an ability I don't like to advertise because it gives me an edge over my enemies. If I told everyone about that power, it would make my job that much more difficult."

"I see," I said. I looked around. "Where's Adams?"

"Grocery shopping," said Rubberman, "plus running a few other errands in town. He'll be back soon, but until then, it's just you and me."

"Okay," I said, although I wasn't very enthusiastic about that.

Rubberman must have heard my lack of enthusiasm, because he frowned and said, "What's the matter? Don't you want to get started on your training again?"

"Yeah, I do," I said. "It's just ... never mind. I just didn't sleep very well over the weekend. Been too busy with schoolwork and stuff."

Yeah, that was a lie, but I had no idea what Rubberman would do or say if I told him about my meeting with Fro-Zen. I didn't think he'd get that angry, but at the same time, I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't just fire me for talking with Fro-Zen like that. Or maybe he'd punish me some other way. I don't know. I was still thinking about what Fro-Zen had told me and I just didn't know how to handle it.

Rubberman, apparently, didn't catch my lie, because he nodded and said, "I understand. Kids these days just get too much schoolwork. Too much testing and not enough teaching, or that's what my teacher friends keep telling me. And based on my observations of kids your age, I have no reason to disbelieve them."

"Yeah, homework sucks," I said. "Now, can we get started on my training? Please?"

"Okay," said Rubberman. He slowly rose from his chair, but then winced and grabbed his side. "Ow."

"Are you okay?" I said. "You look like you're in pain."

"Like I said, I'm not entirely healed yet, so I still suffer from some pain," said Rubberman. "It's nothing serious, though, so don't you worry about it. You just get your costume on and we will meet in the Rubber Room in five minutes."

I nodded and ran over to my room. It didn't take me long to switch out of my normal clothes and don my Beams costume. I have to admit, though, that I didn't put it on as eagerly as I normally did. Probably because I didn't know if I could trust Rubberman or not; if he was as corrupt and greedy as Fro-Zen said he was, then I wondered if I was contributing to that corruption and greed by working for him. I still had Fro-Zen's phone number in the pocket of my jeans, but I hadn't looked at it since I got home that night. I hadn't told anyone about it, either, because I wasn't sure if it would help Rubberman or the police capture Fro-Zen. I wasn't even sure that I wanted Fro-Zen captured; if everything he said was true, then it would be wrong of me to help the police or Rubberman put him behind bars.

Once my suit and helmet were on, I stepped out of my room and made my way to the Rubber Room's door. Opening it, I found that Rubberman was already inside and had already set up a target for me to shoot. He turned to look at me when I entered, a smile on his face when he saw me.

"You got that on quickly," said Rubberman. "Can't wait to start, huh?"

I nodded, albeit not very enthusiastically. "Yeah. I'm getting better at controlling my powers."

"I know," said Rubberman. "That's what Adams has told me. He said that your training is coming along well. I imagine that you will soon be ready to join me in fighting criminals and supervillains on the streets."

"Really?" I said. That made me feel a bit better. "Do you know for sure when I'll be able to help you fight them?"

"Not yet," said Rubberman, shaking his head. "But if you keep advancing at this rate, then it won't be long before we're both out on the streets fighting criminals and supervillains side by side. Of course, we're going to need to plan your debut first."

"My debut?" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I forgot," said Rubberman. He pointed at me. "I haven't explained to you, but a 'debut' is the term we superheroes use to describe our first public appearance. We also use it to describe the first public appearances of our sidekicks."

"Why do I need a debut?" I said. "Why not just have me go out and stop some criminal and let everyone see me? Don't you think that would be good enough?"

"That's one way to do it, but it's always better to plan out your debut," said Rubberman. "First impressions matter, especially when it comes to making deals for merchandise."

I couldn't help but think about what Fro-Zen told me on Saturday, about how Rubberman only cared about money rather than doing the right thing. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you don't make a good first impression, that will make it harder for me to make merch off you," said Rubberman. "If you come across as unlikeable or bad, then most companies will be reluctant to make merch based off you."

"Will I get paid any royalties or anything if merch is made off of me?" I said in a reluctant voice.

"Yes," said Rubberman, nodding. "It's part of the laws regulating sidekicks. Sidekicks get a portion of every licensing deal; the exact amount varies, but it can't be any less than ten percent."

"You mean I could earn more money in addition to minimum wage?" I said in surprise.

"Sure," said Rubberman, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Now do you understand why I am so interested in making merchandising deals? And what other minimum wage job even allows for the possibility of making some extra cash off these kind of licensing deals like this one? Makes me wish I'd been a sidekick when I was your age."

"Cool," I said. But then I remembered what Fro-Zen said and I frowned. "But does any of this really matter? I mean, as long as I can make Golden City a safer place, does it matter if I have action figures and stuff based off of me?"

Rubberman's smile vanished as abruptly as if it had never been there at all. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I mean," I said, looking down at my feet because I didn't like the way Rubberman looked at me, "shouldn't we do the right thing even if it won't make us a lot of money or any money at all? What if some supervillain or criminal attacks the city and you don't let me help stop him just because it might not fit into your business plans?"

"Well, I suppose in an emergency like that, sure, I would take you with me to deal with it," said Rubberman. "But you have to understand that we're a business. And in a business, money generally comes first. Otherwise, you don't stay in business very long. Ask me how I know."

I looked up at Rubberman again. "So money comes first, even above innocent lives? If there wasn't any money to be made in this business, would you still try to protect people?"

Rubberman tilted his head to the side, a quizzical expression on his face. "Alex, is there a reason you're asking these questions? Did something happen over the weekend to make you think about this stuff?"

"No," I said, although I didn't sound convincing even to myself; still, I couldn't let Rubberman know that I had been in contact with Fro-Zen. "I was just thinking about how superheroes are always seen as selfless heroes who sacrifice for the greater good. That's what we do, right?"

Okay, I was pretty sure that Rubberman saw through my lie, but thankfully, he said, in a measured voice, as if he was carefully considering every word, "Yes, of course. There are many other lucrative businesses that don't require that you put your own life in danger every now and then or that you fight lunatics and the scum of society. It isn't like I do this just for money, after all, although the money is nice."

I felt relieved to hear that Rubberman didn't do this just for money, but at the same time, I still remembered what Fro-Zen said about how corrupt the entire superhero industry was. And I wondered whether Rubberman was just saying that to make me feel better or if he actually meant it.

Regardless, I said, "All right. Well, let's get started. I'm ready to jump back into training now."

Rubberman's smile returned. "Awesome. That's exactly what I want to hear. That's what I like about you, Alex. You're always ready to start."

I nodded and smiled in return, but deep down, my worries and concerns were still there. But I didn't know how to deal with them, so I just ignored them for now in order to focus on my training. Maybe I would think more about them later on, when I went home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful, all things considered. I woke up, went to school, went to work, and then went home, only to repeat that same schedule the next day. I actually liked it; given how stressful the prior week had been, I was not in any mood to deal with any more stress.

My skills improved considerably. By Thursday, I had so much control over my eye beams that Rubberman even began to teach me the basics of fisticuffs. He told me that I would not be able to defeat all my enemies with my eye beams, so I would need to know other ways to defend myself if necessary. I actually enjoyed learning hand-to-hand fighting even more than learning how to shoot eye beams, although we didn't spend as much time on it as I would have liked. Still, Rubberman told me that we would do more in depth hand-to-hand training next week. He also mentioned something about teaching me how to use weapons, which was odd because I didn't know Rubberman had any weapons, but he said he'd tell me more about that later if necessary.

Training wasn't the only thing we did. Rubberman also introduced me to the Control System, teaching me how to use it and how to sift through all of the information to find relevant news. It was pretty complicated, but I figured I would get a hold of it eventually. He wanted me to learn how to use it so I could know how to use it to contact him or other people, as well as having me take over the duties of monitoring the news for any interesting or recent developments that could affect us. He did tell me, however, that I was not to use the System's call feature to call random people, like friends or family; it was only supposed to be used for business and for business purposes alone. I understood and didn't find any reason to argue against it; it wasn't like I ever called anyone anyway.

There was no news of Fro-Zen over the week, either. He did not attack the Park or anywhere else, although the police still had a warrant out for him and kept reminding the citizens to keep an eye out for him. Fro-Zen didn't try to contact me, either, which I was thankful for, because I didn't like talking with him. Rubberman didn't talk much about Fro-Zen, but I knew that he was still keeping on top of all of the most recent news regarding his former sidekick; from what I could tell, Rubberman seemed to feel responsible for Fro-Zen. Maybe he felt terrible that he had failed to defeat Fro-Zen; in any case, I was also curious about Fro-Zen's disappearance. Maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity to attack Rubberman, but somehow that seemed unlikely to me. And even if he was, that didn't mean he would ever get a chance, because Rubberman had taken extra precautions to keep himself safe.

Speaking of Fro-Zen, Rubberman's injuries seemed to be healing just fine. He eventually only had to deal with a minor pain in his side, but he told me that he would be able to ignore it and that it wasn't a big problem anymore. I was glad to hear that, because I felt pretty vulnerable while Rubberman was injured. Still, it just confused me more; why had Fro-Zen not attacked the hospital while Rubberman was defenseless? Perhaps Fro-Zen didn't want to put the lives of innocent people in danger, although given how he held those elementary school students hostage four years ago, I doubted that.

I also still thought about what Fro-Zen told me back on Saturday night. I tried not to, but it was impossible. Fro-Zen's words were etched in my mind like stone; even though Rubberman had assured me that he was not in this just for the money, I still didn't feel happy with that explanation. I didn't think Rubberman was lying, but somehow his explanation just didn't work for me. I didn't know why, but it just didn't.

But on Thursday, I managed to push such thoughts out of my mind, because today was my very first pay day. The day before, Rubberman had told me that he would give me my check as soon as I got to the Elastic Cave. That made sitting through school agonizingly difficult; I barely paid attention to Mr. Peters' lessons, which earned me a reprimand and probably knocked a few points off my overall grade level, but I didn't care. I did note, however, that Mr. Peters was still our teacher, even though it had already been a week since he began substituting for Mrs. Naomi. He told us that that was because Mrs. Naomi had gotten into a terrible car accident while visiting her relatives in North Dakota and would not be out of the hospital for a month, so Mr. Peters was going to remain our science teacher for the foreseeable future. Can't say I was happy about that news, but I was so looking forward to getting my first paycheck that I didn't let it get me down.

As usual, after class, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and biked to the Elastic Cave as quickly as I could. And, of course, I used the same shortcut I always did, weaving through the back alleys and streets of Golden City, allowing myself to avoid most of the City's after school traffic. I didn't even say good bye to Frank, but I figured he wouldn't be too offended by that, and anyway I was already planning to make up for it by using my first paycheck to get us tickets to see a new movie that just came out recently. I wasn't sure how I'd explain my sudden acquisition of cash to Frank, but I was sure that I would figure it out later. First priority: Get money. Figure out the rest later.

But as I rode my bike through the back streets of Golden City, I heard a woman's scream for help. I skid to a halt and looked around, trying to figure out where the screaming was coming from. I realized that it was coming from around the next corner; that was slightly out of the way of my path to the Elastic Cave, but the screaming was so loud and so intense that I snapped out of my surprise and biked over to that corner. I stopped at the corner again, hopped off my bike, and peered around the corner.

A woman--probably in her thirties or so--was backed against a wall by two thugs, whose backs were to me, but I could tell that they were strong based on how thick their arms were. They looked like typical street thugs, wearing ripped leather jackets, most of their exposed skin covered in ugly tattoos. It looked like they were trying to steal the woman's purse; however, based on how much she screamed at them and tried to smack them with her purse, I could guess that they had more sinister plans for her.

I wanted to run over and start fighting them, but I pulled my head back around the corner and got control of myself. While my eye beams would probably make short work of them, I didn't have my costume with me. That meant that they'd see who I was, which would mean that my secret identity as Beams might be exposed. There was also the problem, of course, that this woman had not paid for Rubberman's or my services; furthermore, I had to be at work right away. Rubberman may have been a good boss, but that didn't mean he was always tolerant of lateness.

But then I remembered what Fro-Zen had told me, about how he and Rubberman had failed to save that one woman from her ex, and I realized that I couldn't turn around and leave this woman alone. I had to act, even if that meant being late for work. There was no way I could live with myself if I let this woman get harmed or even killed when I could have done something to save her.

That didn't change the fact that I didn't have a mask. That seemed like an insurmountable problem until I remembered something in my backpack. Acting quickly, I ripped open my backpack and dug through it desperately until I found what I was looking for: My brown lunch bag. It was empty, since I'd eaten the food inside it for lunch at school earlier, but it was large enough to fit on my head without tearing. I poked a couple of eye holes in it and then pulled the bag over my head. I instantly inhaled the smell of chicken sandwich and potato chips; it actually smelled kind of awful, because it had been hours since lunch, but I didn't care. As long as it hid my face, I could tolerate it.

Steeling my courage, I ran around the corner and shouted, in my best superhero voice, "Unhand her, you vile criminals!"

I internally cringed at how cheesy my voice sounded, but it got the attention of the criminals. They looked at me in surprise and confusion, as did the woman, who was clutching her purse to her chest like it was her first born son.

"Who the hell are you, kid?" said the first thug, whose gruff voice was laced with confusion. "Paperbag Boy?"

"My name isn't important, criminal," I responded; it felt extremely cheesy to talk like this, but I didn't know how else to talk, since I hadn't seen Rubberman talk to supervillains or criminals before. "What's important is that you let the woman and her purse go, or else face the iron fist of justice."

"Iron fist of justice?" the second thug repeated. He laughed, a harsh laugh that was more like a dog's bark than anything. "Yeah, right. Run along home now, kid, while the adults return to business."

I suddenly realized that the thug had a point. The two thugs, put together, were as thick as a truck; on the other hand, I was pretty skinny compared to them. That thought almost made me rethink challenging them, but I had come too far now to just turn and run away because a couple of thugs mocked me.

"A hero's strength isn't judged by the size of his body," I said. "Now, unless you turn and leave that woman alone right this instant, I will have to use force to take down both of you."

"Oh, the kid's saying he's going to poke us with those sticks he calls arms," said the second thug, chuckling. "Oh, I'm so terrified. Hold me, Maurice."

Maurice? Was that the name of the first thug? Didn't seem like a thuggish name to me, but I guessed that was irrelevant.

"Yeah, kid, get lost," said Maurice, waving his hand at me like I was an annoying dog he was trying to scare off. "Maybe if you were Rubberman or someone important like that, we might have actually taken you seriously."

"I see that you aren't going to run, then," I said. "Very well. Taste my eye beams of justice, criminals!"

My eyes heated up and I fired a blast of energy at them. Maurice was much quicker than his friend, moving out of the way of the beams quickly, but his friend wasn't as smart. My beams struck the second thug in the chest and he went flying. He crashed into the street hard and lay there, his chest smoking. I doubted he was dead--I had kept my eye beams to a non-lethal level--but I still felt proud of myself for taking down my first criminal.

But then I realized that Maurice was almost upon me. Somehow, he had approached me while I was distracted thinking about his friend; as a result, I wasn't fast enough to dodge his incoming fist.

The blow struck me in the side of the face with surprising force. I crashed onto the street, gasping in pain, but before I could do anything else, Maurice began kicking me in the stomach over and over again. Either his boot was made of steel or his foot was, because just one of his kicks was like being repeatedly slammed in the stomach by a sledgehammer. I had never faced this kind of pain before; my training sessions with Rubberman had not covered this.

That was about all I could think, though, because the pain from his repeated blows made it impossible to think about or focus on anything else for longer than a second. I couldn't even concentrate long enough to use my eye beams. All I could do was gasp and groan as Maurice viciously kicked me; he even got me in the chin a couple of times, although most of his blows hit my stomach. I thought I felt something break; maybe that was my will to live.

"Yeah, stupid kid, this is what you get for interrupting adults!" Maurice shouted; his voice sounded distant and hazy, even though he was standing directly above me. "Once I'm done with you, even your own mother won't recognize that stupid paper bag!"

I couldn't respond to that even if I wanted. I had stopped trying to win; I was just hoping to survive, thinking--as much as I could think, anyway--that if I just lay still and kept quiet, maybe Maurice would not kill me. Of course, that was looking increasingly unlikely with every kick to the gut, but I had no other choice.

That was when I heard the sound of stretching rubber, followed by Maurice looking up and saying, "What the hell--" before a large rubber fist came out of nowhere and slammed directly into his face.

The blow knocked Maurice straight off his feet, but before he could fall, the hand grabbed him, lifted him off the street, and tossed him away. Maurice hit the street and rolled several times before crashing into several trash cans, knocking their stinky contents all over him. He did not rise from them again.

Although Maurice's blows had stopped, I was still in too much pain to get up. I did, however, manage to look over my shoulder to see Rubberman standing at the corner. His stretched arm had retracted to its normal length by now, but he looked angry, angrier than I'd ever seen him before. If I hadn't known him, I would have guessed that he was going to kill whoever annoyed him next.

I heard a grunt and looked back over to see that the second thug was back on his feet, even though his chest was still smoking. The second thug, however, didn't look nearly as confident as he did before; he was sweating profusely and his hands were on his knees. He kept looking from Rubberman to the pile of trash cans that was once Maurice and back again, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"No way ..." said the second thug, his voice shaky. "R-Rubberman? What the hell are you doing here?" He shook his head. "Never mind. I'm not going to jail again!"

The second thug pulled a gun out of his coat and aimed it, not at Rubberman, but at me. He pulled the trigger, making a loud gunshot go off in the alleyway that echoed off the walls on either side.

But Rubberman jumped in front of me and took the bullet. It struck him in the chest; but it didn't go through him. His rubber body caught the bullet and launched it away, sending it flying somewhere in front of Rubberman where it didn't hurt anyone.

Between Rubberman's legs, I could see the second thug's face had gone so pale that I was sure he had already died.

"What ... what the ..." the second thug repeated, his voice high with fear. "No way ... the stories were true ..."

"I'm a man of rubber," said Rubberman, patting his chest. "What did you think was going to happen?"

The second thug dropped his gun and turned to run, but Rubberman launched a fist at him. The fist struck the second thug as quickly as a rubber band, slapping him across the face so hard that he was knocked flat off his feet. Like Maurice, the second thug did not rise again.

Retracting his hand, Rubberman turned around to look at me. He bent over me, his anger replaced with concern. "Alex, are you okay?"

I couldn't talk. My stomach hurt so much that even breathing was painful. I just shook my head, hoping that Rubberman would understand.

"I see," said Rubberman. "Well, I am going to get you to the Elastic Cave. I've already sent Adams a message to get your room ready for you, so--"

"Rubberman?" came a female voice I didn't recognize; it sounded frightened, yet hopeful.

All of a sudden, the woman who I had been trying to save appeared over me. Her hair was messy and her coat was covered in dirt, but other than that, she looked okay. She also still had her purse by her side, although now that the thugs were defeated, she didn't seem to be clutching it nearly as tightly as before.

"Oh, hello, young lady," said Rubberman, standing upright to look at her. He gestured at the unconscious criminals. "You should call the police. Tell them I beat these two and that I am willing to testify against them in court if necessary."

The lady was visibly shaking, but she nodded and said, "O-Okay. But who is the kid?"

"A friend," said Rubberman. "But after you call the police, I suggest that you avoid this part of town for now. These thugs might have friends and you can't always rely on me or my friend here to save you."

"I-I have to reward you somehow," said the lady. She began digging through her purse. "I have m-money--"

"No, that won't be necessary," said Rubberman, holding up a hand. "If you want to repay us, just avoid getting yourself in this kind of situation again. Okay?"

The lady nodded. "S-Sure. But can I ask you one last thing?"

"What is it?" said Rubberman.

"Can you autograph my purse?" said the lady, holding out her purse to him. "S-So I can prove to my friends that I actually met you in person."

"Sorry, lady, but I don't have time for that," said Rubberman. "I need to get my friend medical attention ASAP. Perhaps if we see each other again, I'll autograph your purse."

Before the lady could say anything else, Rubberman bent down, scooped me up into his arms, and then dashed through the streets away from her. I found it harder and harder to maintain my consciousness, so I just stayed as quiet and still as I could while Rubberman rushed me to the Elastic Cave, feeling terrible for the fact that I had failed to defeat those two thugs on my own. I hoped Rubberman wouldn't be too angry with me when we got back to the Elastic Cave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When we arrived in the Elastic Cave, Rubberman wasted no time in getting me to my room; there, I found out that Adams already had it ready for me to rest in while I healed. The mattress was soft and comfy and the blankets were so silky smooth that I thought I would just fall asleep in them instantly. Of course, I was in too much pain to fall asleep, but even before I got the medicine, I felt a lot better, probably because a normal bed was much better than the hard street I'd been lying on a few moments ago.

They removed my paper bag mask and began to check my body for any fractures. According to Adams--who informed me that he had been a doctor before becoming Rubberman's butler--I had suffered no internal fractures or bleeding at all; however, my stomach had a lot of bruises on it. Adams told me that I would just need to rest and let my face and stomach heal on their own, although he did bandage the worst wounds. He also gave me some pain pills to make the pain bearable, although I was still too sore to even sit up.

While I lay in bed, I overheard Rubberman talking to my parents on the phone just outside my room. The closed door made it impossible for me to hear exactly what Rubberman said; however, based on his hurried tone, I could tell that he was probably trying to calm down Mom and assure her that I was going to be okay. I felt awful for worrying Mom like that; it hadn't occurred to me that she might be sick with worry over my behavior. I doubted Dad would be too pleased, either, once he learned what I did.

It felt like an eternity later--although it was probably just about ten minutes or so--before Rubberman entered my room, a serious expression on his face. He pulled up a stool next to my bed and sat down on it, his hands clasped together in his lap like he didn't know what else to do with them. I found it hard to meet his gaze.

"I just finished speaking with your parents," said Rubberman. "I told them that you were injured, but that you would be okay and I would be willing to pay for any medical treatment you might need. Adams says you probably will not need to go to the hospital; still, sometimes emergencies happen and if you do need to go to the hospital because of this, I will pay for it."

"What did Mom say to that?" I said. Speaking no longer hurt as much as it used to, thanks to the pain pills that Adams had given me earlier. But I could still smell my own blood, even though Adams had wiped and washed my face with a wet cloth earlier.

"I convinced her that you weren't badly hurt and that we are taking care of you," said Rubberman. "I also spoke to your father. He believes I'm keeping you safe. Still, I had to assure him that I didn't approve of you doing this and that you attacked those two thugs entirely on your own. I also had to reassure them both that I wouldn't put you in that kind of situation again until I feel you're ready for it. And I don't think that you're ready to fight even petty street thugs like those guys yet, much less supervillains like Fro-Zen."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. I just wanted--"

"To do the right thing," Rubberman finished for me. "Yeah, I know. I've had sidekicks before. It's a pretty common excuse for whenever they put themselves in dangerous situations like that."

Despite my shame, I couldn't help but feel annoyed. "Excuse? If I hadn't intervened, those guys would have stolen that lady's purse, and maybe done even worse things to her."

"You could also have been killed," Rubberman said. "Perhaps I didn't make it clear before, but fighting criminals--even street thugs like those two--is always fraught with danger. More than one promising superhero's career has ended abruptly due to not taking a few 'petty' thieves seriously. And that's not even mentioning what happens to overly-cocky sidekicks who think they can save the day after only a couple of weeks' worth of combat training."

"What was I supposed to do?" I said. "Just get on my bike and let the woman get victimized? And while on my way to my job as the sidekick of a superhero, too. Pretty ironic, huh?"

"I didn't say that," said Rubberman. "You could have called me and let me know. Or called the police, perhaps."

"Yeah, but would you or the police have gotten there in time to save her?" I said. "The only reason they didn't harm her as much as they could have is because I distracted them. Otherwise, by the time you or the police got there ... well, I don't know what would have happened to the woman, but it wouldn't have been good."

"It was still foolish of you to put yourself in danger like that," said Rubberman. "You also could have risked revealing your identity to the crooks, which would have resulted in the revocation of your sidekick license by the government. Do you want to lose your job?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's just ... I wanted to save an innocent person's life. Isn't that what superheroes and their sidekicks do?"

"That is part of what we do, yes, but you can't always save everyone, Alex," said Rubberman, folding his arms across his chest. "Especially when you're as inexperienced as you. As I said, fighting is always dangerous and anyone can kill you. No one is invincible; even Prime Man, despite his strength and experience, could still be killed by the right criminal or supervillain. You're lucky I realized you were late and went to see if something had happened to you; if I hadn't, you would probably be dead or in the hospital right now."

I hated to admit it, but Rubberman was right. I hadn't been a challenge for those two thugs at all; even if I'd been wearing my costume, I doubted I would have been much of a challenge to them. I was starting to realize that fighting criminals and supervillains involved a lot more than just using my powers. Now I was wondering if I had picked the right job to work.

At the same time, though, I still didn't feel entirely ashamed of my behavior. I hadn't done it to show off or anything. I had done it because I wanted to be a hero. Maybe I'd underestimated those thugs, but so what? The woman was safe now, wasn't she? And the thugs were probably going to be behind bars where they couldn't hurt anyone else. The only problem I could see was that we didn't get paid for this, but in the grand scheme of things that didn't seem like such a big problem to me.

"Also, there is the fact that we had to do this for free," said Rubberman. "My time is very valuable and I generally dislike spending it on things that won't give me a good return on investment."

"Then why didn't you charge her for it?" I said in annoyance. "She even offered to pay us."

"Because it wouldn't have felt right and I hadn't planned to apprehend any criminals today anyway," said Rubberman. "Besides, it's usually the city government who pay me for apprehending criminals. I'll probably send them an invoice later and then have Adams badger them until they pay it; the government has always been my worst customer and you really have to work hard to make sure that they pay you on time."

I bit my lower lip. Against my will, I was reminded of what Fro-Zen had said to me before, about how Rubberman and other superheroes only helped people when there was money involved. I didn't want to admit it, but I felt that there was more truth to Fro-Zen's words than I had initially thought. That also lowered my opinion of Rubberman slightly; if a woman could almost be robbed just outside of his base and he wouldn't have intervened if I hadn't, what kind of 'hero' did that make him?

"Anyway," said Rubberman, putting his hands on his hips, "the important thing is that you are alive and will be able to go home later, although you might need to take some time off from school to rest for the rest of the week. But this little incident has convinced me that we need to get you fully trained for fighting criminals and supervillains faster than ever."

"You mean we weren't doing that already?" I said in surprise. "Wasn't that what all this training was about?"

"Nope," said Rubberman, shaking his head. "Most supervillains and criminals are not wooden targets that will stand still long enough for you to shoot them. There's a huge difference between knowing how to use your powers or throw a punch and being able to use those same powers and skills to beat an enemy in a fight. I probably don't need to tell you this, though."

"Yeah, I learned that today," I said, rubbing my aching stomach, although the pain pills dulled the pain somewhat. "Will I do any training today?"

"No," said Rubberman, shaking his head. "Instead, we're going to send you home early, because you're obviously in too much pain to train. Don't worry; I've got a taxi to take you there, so you don't need to worry about someone seeing me or Adams drop you off at your house and learning about your identity."

I nodded in relief. I had been worried for a moment there that Rubberman might have me do a full day's work anyway, but I was glad to hear that he wasn't. I didn't think I'd be able to even shoot targets, much less participate in any kind of physical fighting, in my current condition. I was looking forward to going home and resting through the weekend. That's what I usually did anyway.

"When will I leave?" I said.

"In half an hour," said Rubberman, glancing at his watch. "That's when the taxi will be here. Until then, you should just relax and get some rest. If you need anything, feel free to call me or Adams; we're both going to be here all day, so you don't need to worry about having to care for yourself."

I nodded again, while Rubberman turned around to leave. I closed my eyes, intending to get a quick nap in before my taxi came, but then I heard Rubberman stop and I opened my eyes to see Rubberman was now searching the pockets of his costume.

"Rubberman, what's the problem?" I said. "Did you misplace your wallet?"

"No," said Rubberman in an absentminded voice, like he wasn't paying attention to me. "I just remembered ... ah, here it is."

Rubberman pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, a piece of paper I recognized as a check. I didn't know why he had pulled it out or why he had spent so much time looking for it until he walked back over to me and held the check out for me. "Here you go, Alex. Your first paycheck."

All of a sudden, I forgot about my pain and injuries. I sat up instantly, grabbed the check from Rubberman's hand, and held up the check to my eyes. Yep, there was no mistaking it; this was my first paycheck. It wasn't a fake or some kind of cruel joke on Rubberman's part. The amount on it was correct and it even had my name on it, along with Rubberman's business name, too.

I held it carefully, like it was a valuable artifact I'd dug up from an archaeological site. I was so afraid of damaging it that I didn't even breathe on it. I looked up at Rubberman, who was smiling as if he was happy about my reaction to it.

"Thank you," I said, though my voice choked slightly.

"You don't need to thank me," said Rubberman with a wink. "You earned every penny on that check. But I'm glad to see that you are excited about it anyway. I remember when I got my first paycheck when I was your age. It's something you never forget."

I nodded once more and lowered the paycheck. "Yeah, it's awesome."

"Indeed it is," said Rubberman. "Now, I'll just leave you alone here to rest. Once your taxi is here, Adams will escort you out."

Rubberman turned around and left the room for real this time, leaving me alone with my paycheck.

Lying back in my bed, I turned the paycheck over, trying to look at every side of it at once. I had seen checks before--Dad still used them, even though they were old-fashioned--but getting my first check was something else. For the first time since I started working for Rubberman, I felt like an adult who had a real job. If this was how Dad felt every time his paycheck came in, then I understood why he worked so much.

I wondered if Fro-Zen had felt this way when he got his first paycheck from Rubberman. Then again, Fro-Zen would probably say something like this money was part of the problem. That thought suddenly made me feel bad, because when I thought about it, Rubberman had acted very much like the way Fro-Zen said all superheroes acted. Sure, he saved the woman and defeated the thugs for free, but knowing that Rubberman would have not done that if I hadn't put myself in danger like that ... well, it soured my taste on my first paycheck, to put it lightly.

Regardless, I put my paycheck on the desk next to my bed and then closed my eyes. Maybe when I woke up later, I would feel better; it was probably just the pain pills messing with my mind at the moment. When I woke up, I would feel better, especially once I got home.

At least, that's what I told myself, anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

For the rest of the weekend, I spent pretty much all my time in bed. Mom, as usual, fussed over me, which I didn't mind too much, but it did get a little annoying how she seemed to think I was on my death bed. Dad was concerned, too, but he didn't seem nearly as worried as Mom. He did, however, congratulate me on getting my first paycheck and even deposited it for me in my savings account at the bank we'd opened, though I did keep some for myself. That account was strictly for saving up for my car; I was not allowed to take anything from it until I'd saved up enough money for my car. That kind of disappointed me, but I had known I would be doing that ahead of time, so I couldn't complain.

I spent my time in bed, resting and letting my injuries heal, keeping an eye on local news reports for news about Fro-Zen. According to the most recent article published on Friday, Fro-Zen's whereabouts were still unknown, despite the Golden City Police Department searching high and low for him. The police were now starting to speculate that Fro-Zen was hiding with allies, but they had no idea who his allies might have been or where they might have been keeping him.

I couldn't blame them for coming to that conclusion, as it was the only explanation that made any sense. I was also confused, because when I spoke to Fro-Zen last Saturday, he had sounded like he was willing to spend his whole life hounding down Rubberman, yet he had only attacked Rubberman once and had left him alone since then. Either Fro-Zen had given up--which was about as likely as pigs flying--or he was waiting for the right opportunity to strike. The latter seemed likely to me, but that just made me anxious for Rubberman. I knew that Rubberman was a strong, experienced superhero who had taken on loads of supervillains and criminals before, but Fro-Zen seemed so ruthless that I worried that Rubberman might not have what it takes to beat him. Then again, I was probably even less well-equipped to handle Fro-Zen than Rubberman was, given how I was almost beaten to a pulp by two street thugs who had no powers at all.

I also paid attention to general superhero news in Golden City, which was how I learned that Munroe Acquisitions, Inc. had just recently closed a deal with Adam 'Shining Star' Lancaster to purchase the Shining Star brand from him for an undisclosed sum. Apparently, this was considered big news, because no one had suspected that Shining Star would sell his brand to Munroe Acquisitions. Lots of pundits were speculating on what Munroe Acquisitions was going to do with the brand, as well as how much money Lancaster had sold the brand for. Lancaster's net worth was approximately ten million dollars, although the rumors were that Munroe Acquisitions had purchased it for much less than that, but no one knew for sure because neither Adam Lancaster nor Sasha Munroe were at liberty to disclose the amount paid for the brand.

The article I read about it had a picture of Sasha Munroe standing next to a tall and muscular-looking guy whose teeth were so white that they practically shined in the glow of the camera flashes, a guy who the caption identified as Shining Star himself. I vaguely recalled hearing about Shining Star before, although he was apparently based in New Jersey rather than Texas, but I didn't really care about the deal because seeing Sasha Munroe reminded me of my brief meeting with her a week ago.

Even though Sasha Munroe had seen me and knew that I was Rubberman's sidekick, I couldn't find any announcements or anything on the Internet to indicate that she had told anyone else about me. I wondered if she was simply respecting Rubberman's privacy, but given what Adams told me about her, I doubted that. If she was as sneaky as Adams said she was, then she was probably waiting for the right moment to use that information for her advantage. I didn't know how it could benefit her, but given how Rubberman had worked very hard to make sure that no one knew about me yet, I figured it had been a mistake for Sasha to see me.

Regardless, I tried not to worry about any of it, although it was so hard to do because I had nothing better to do while I laid in bed. More than once, I found my thoughts returning to my conversation with Fro-Zen. I kept comparing what he told me with how Rubberman acted and it fit together eerily well. I used to think Fro-Zen was just insane--and, to be honest, I still thought he wasn't totally right in the head--but I was beginning to understand why he behaved the way he did. And it wasn't just Rubberman, either; reading that story about Shining Star, I wondered whether Munroe Acquisitions would continue to have someone dressed up as Shining Star fighting supervillains and criminals or if they would just exploit his brand for money. I also wondered whether Shining Star was even aware of the gap he was leaving; from what I read, Shining Star had been one of the more effective superheroes, making his home city the safest in New Jersey. How safe would it be once the deal was finalized and the brand was owned by Munroe Acquisitions? Would another superhero rise to take his place or would his city become crime-ridden and unsafe?

The more I thought about it, the more I began to realize that Fro-Zen was right. There was something messed up about this industry, something I didn't like. I didn't think that the answer was to kill all of the superheroes or whatever Fro-Zen's big master plan was, but I found myself pondering if I should quit working for Rubberman and get a job in a less ethically questionable industry. Getting my first paycheck was great and all, but I wasn't sure it was worth participating in an industry that was, in some ways, deeply immoral. And I wasn't even a moralistic, judgmental busybody, either; I just didn't like the idea of making a city's safety dependent on people who only wanted money and nothing else.

Those thoughts stayed with me all through the weekend. They stayed with me even on Monday morning, when I got up, took a shower, and then went downstairs to get my breakfast. Although my stomach was still bruised, I had healed up enough from my beating to be able to go to school. At least, I felt good enough to go to school; besides, I was getting a bit stir crazy having to stay in the house all day. I also sent a text to Rubberman telling him I was going to come to work today, although deep down I was still conflicted about all of this. I wasn't sure if I was going to quit or not; I decided I would just go to the Elastic Cave and see how I felt after that.

When I entered the kitchen, I found both Mom and Dad already awake and sitting around the table. That wasn't unusual; they were always up before me, Mom to make breakfast, Dad to get to work. But I noticed that there was no food on the stove top or in the oven; in fact, it looked like Mom hadn't even started on breakfast yet. I didn't smell any bacon or eggs or orange juice. The only 'breakfast' stuff that had been made was the coffee, although even that didn't smell as fresh as it normally did.

Additionally, neither Mom nor Dad looked up or said good morning to me when I entered. They were both looking at Dad's tablet like they were watching the most interesting movie in the world. The volume was on, but it was too low for me to hear from this side of the kitchen. Mom clutched a cold cup of coffee between her hands and was biting her lower lip, while Dad's face was in the most worried frown I'd ever seen, an expression I didn't like at all.

"Mom? Dad?" I said, looking at them both uncertainly. "What are you looking at?"

They both suddenly looked up at me, like I'd just sneaked up on them. But they looked relieved once they saw it was just me, although both of them still looked tense nonetheless.

"Oh, Alex, it's just you," said Mom with a sigh. "I'm so glad you're still here and not at school. I forgot that you don't go to school until after breakfast."

"How could you forget that?" I said in astonishment. "And why are you glad that I'm not at school? Usually, you guys are unhappy when I'm not in school."

"You mean you haven't heard about what happened?" said Dad in surprise.

"Heard what?" I said. "I just got up half an hour ago. I haven't even looked at my phone."

"It will be easier to show you," said Dad. "Here, look at this."

Dad turned his tablet around so I could see its screen. Frowning, I stepped closer to the table, looking at the tablet's screen. At first, I thought I was looking at live footage of the largest ice sculpture in the world. It was shaped kind of like Golden City High School, except with huge ice walls surrounding it on all sides. Then I noticed the police cars scattered around it, some of them frozen over, while others were not, and I realized that I was looking at live footage of my school.

But I didn't understand how it got frozen over until I read the headline underneath:

LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL ATTACKED BY INFAMOUS SUPERVILLAIN FRO-ZEN. DOZENS OF STUDENTS AND TEACHERS STILL INSIDE.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"What ..." I looked at Mom and Dad. "What is going on? What happened?"

"We don't know," said Mom as Dad took the tablet back over to himself. She ran a hand through her hair. "When I was making our coffee, Jackson turned on his tablet to watch the news, but then we saw the report about the attack on your school and we started watching."

"From what the reporters have said, Fro-Zen attacked the high school earlier this morning," said Dad. He sounded calmer than Mom, although it was obvious that Fro-Zen's attack on my school had rattled him as well. "At first, the police thought no one else was inside, but then they got a phone call from Fro-Zen who told them that he had dozens of students and faculty members hostage. I don't know what they were doing there so early, though."

"Some of the faculty and students go to school early to get it set up for the rest of us," I said, although I said that somewhat mechanically because I was so stunned that I barely felt any emotion. "Do we know who any of the hostages are?"

"They're still calling students and faculty to figure out who went early and who didn't head out yet," said Dad. "They've confirmed that Mr. Sampson Peters was one of the hostages."

"What about Frank?" I said. I gulped. "And Greta?"

"Unsure," said Dad, shaking his head. "I don't think either Frank or Greta have been confirmed to be there. It's still a developing situation."

"Why did Fro-Zen do this?" I said. "What does he want?"

"Rubberman," said Dad. He rubbed his temple. "According to the police, Fro-Zen called them and threatened to kill his hostages if Rubberman didn't show up to fight him. God, it's just like what he did four years ago."

"You remember that?" I said in surprise.

"Of course I do," said Dad. "That was the elementary school I went to when I was a kid. We weren't living in Golden City at the time, but I remember following the news closely during that situation."

"I remember it as well," said Mom. She looked at me with fear. "Alex, you should stay home today. The police are warning all students and faculty members who are still home to stay away from the school until Fro-Zen is taken care of."

"What about Rubberman?" I said. "Has he shown up yet?"

"Doesn't look like it," said Dad, glancing at his tablet. "The police have been trying to contact him, but apparently he hasn't been returning their calls. Do you know why that might be, Alex?"

A chill went down my spine. "I don't, but that's not a good sign. Let me try calling him."

I whipped my phone out of my pocket and quickly dialed Rubberman's personal cell number. Putting my phone against my ear, I listened anxiously to the beeping sound, but then I heard Rubberman's prerecorded message asking me to leave a message after the beep. I didn't bother; instead, I canceled the call and looked at my parents again.

"No answer," I said. "Something must have happened to Rubberman over the weekend. Otherwise, he would have been at the school already to fight Fro-Zen."

"But if Rubberman is unable to fight Fro-Zen, then who can stop him?" said Mom. "The police can't. They've already tried to break down the ice barriers, but they're too thick, and besides Fro-Zen said he'll start killing off hostages if any police try to enter."

"Are there any other superheroes in Golden City who might be able to take him down?" said Dad, scratching the back of his head. "There's got to be a few, right?"

I shook my head. "No. Rubberman is the only superhero in Golden City. And besides, I bet Fro-Zen would start killing hostages if a superhero other than Rubberman showed up."

"Then who can stop him?" said Mom. She pressed her hand against her mouth. "Who?"

I looked down at my phone, at Rubberman's number. I knew what I would have to do, but the fear rising within me almost paralyzed me. Yet I knew that I was the only one who could do anything in this situation.

So I said to Mom and Dad, "Let me go to the Elastic Cave, get my costume, and confront Fro-Zen."

"What?" said Dad, staring at me like I'd just told him I wanted to take his car for a joy ride. "Alex, did those thugs beat the sanity out of you? If you try to fight Fro-Zen, you'll get killed."

"And Fro-Zen wants Rubberman, not you," said Mom hurriedly. "If he sees you coming instead of Rubberman, he'll probably start killing the hostages."

"Mom, Dad, you don't understand," I said. I put a hand on my chest. "I'm the only one who can stop him. I may not be Rubberman, but I am his sidekick. Fro-Zen will just have to accept that."

Of course, the truth was that I suspected that Fro-Zen might be willing to talk with me. I knew I couldn't beat him in a fight, but maybe I could reason with him; at the very least, I might be able to convince him to let the hostages go, even if I couldn't convince him to turn himself in. Then again, if Fro-Zen had already moved to the 'hold hostages and demand the superhero show up or else' stage, he might be entirely beyond reason now.

"Alex, I know you want to do the right thing, but you couldn't even handle two ordinary criminals without getting the crap kicked out of you," said Dad. "Fro-Zen is a genuine supervillain. He'll kill you before you even realize it."

"Then let me go to the Elastic Cave and find out what happened to Rubberman," I said. "If he's in trouble, maybe I can help him so he can go and confront Fro-Zen himself."

Truthfully, I didn't expect to get Rubberman back into shape, assuming he was injured. The plan was to confront Fro-Zen myself, regardless of what happened to Rubberman; still, I had to say what I just said so that Mom and Dad wouldn't try to stop me. And, yes, I was worried about Rubberman, too, so if I could make sure he was okay in addition to getting my costume, that would be great.

Mom and Dad exchanged worried looks. I expected them to tell me to stay home and not worry about it, but then Dad looked at me and said, in a somewhat resigned voice, "Okay, Alex, you can go and see if Rubberman is okay. But don't go anywhere near your school, and once you find out if Rubberman is okay, come back here immediately. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll be back in a flash."

I turned and ran out of the kitchen. Bursting through the front door, I jumped down the front steps, grabbed my bike, and took off without even putting on my helmet. I just hoped that I would be able to get to the Elastic Cave and find out what happened to Rubberman before Fro-Zen got bored and started killing people. Given what I knew about Fro-Zen's character, I doubted it would be long before he got to that stage, which meant I had no time to lose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The first thing I noticed when the elevator doors opened was how quiet the Elastic Cave was. Granted, it wasn't normally a very noisy place, because Rubberman and Adams usually worked pretty quietly, but I was usually greeted by one of them when I entered the place or I could hear Adams working in the kitchen or hear the news anchors on the Control System's monitors yakking about whatever the news of the day was. Today, however, I heard nothing.

Also, the Elastic Cave was dark. Usually, the place was pretty well-lit; I didn't know if the lights were ever turned off, given how I only worked in here during the late afternoon and evening and generally left after the sun had gone down. But it seemed like someone had shut off most of the lights, because the entire Cave was incredibly dark; the only light came from the hallway to my left, possibly from Rubberman's office based on the position from which it came.

"Rubberman?" I said. "Adams? Hello? Is anyone there?"

No response. It was as if the Elastic Cave had been completely abandoned. But that didn't make sense. The Elastic Cave was Rubberman's base. There was no way he'd ever abandon it for any reason. And even if he had, he would have called or texted me about it ahead of time, not refuse to answer my calls for whatever reason. Something had happened in here, though what, I didn't know.

And damn, the Elastic Cave was cold. Not ice cold--as far as I could tell, Fro-Zen had not attacked this place--but colder than usual. It was like someone had shut off the central heating, making the Cave feel like a freezer. I immediately put my arms around my body, trying to keep in as much heat as I could while I looked around, trying to spot any clues that might help me understand what happened to Rubberman and Adams. Again, I saw nothing, aside from the light coming from the hallway. Maybe Rubberman was in his office taking a nap or something, but I knew that was a dumb idea even before I finished thinking it.

Still, I didn't trust the rest of the Cave, because it was so dark, so I made my way through the darkness toward the light coming from the hallway. As I suspected, the light was coming from Rubberman's office; the door was cracked open, allowing the light to spill out, but I didn't hear any sounds coming from the office. Nonetheless, I approached the door, opened it, and looked inside.

Rubberman's office had been ransacked. The shelves of toys, statues, and other Rubberman paraphernalia had been torn from the walls, their contents scattered all across the floor, with the Rubberman figurine twisted beyond recognition; Rubberman's computer lay overturned on the floor beside the fallen desk; and the posters had been ripped from the walls and lay in pieces all over the floor. And lying amid this chaos was Rubberman himself.

He looked unconscious, his head bleeding slightly. At first, I thought he was dead, but then I saw his chest rising and falling with each breath, although I didn't relax. I rushed across the floor, bent over him, and began shaking him.

"Rubberman, are you awake?" I said. "Can you hear me? Hello, Rubberman?"

Finally, Rubberman groaned and his eyes flickered open. But his eyes were out of focus for a second; then he shook his head and their focus returned. He blinked several times and then put a hand on his head, which was probably where he had been hurt.

"Alex?" said Rubberman, his voice weak. He tried to sit up, but groaned and laid back down before he could get up. "What ... what are you doing here? How long have I been out?"

"I don't know," I said. "It's almost eight in the morning."

Rubberman's eyes widened. "Eight in the morning? God, I've been out for hours." He glanced around his office and his eyes grew even wider in shock. "My office ..."

"What happened here?" I said. "Why were you knocked out? And where's Adams?"

"Adams went home last night," said Rubberman. "As for what happened here ... I was attacked while I was working in my office."

"Attacked?" I said. "Attacked by who?"

"By that ninja," said Rubberman. "Remember? The one that attacked you on your first day here."

"He came back?" I said in surprise. "I thought you had improved the security to make sure he couldn't break in again."

Rubberman put a hand on his forehead and sighed. "He must have been smarter than I thought. I don't know how he got in, but that doesn't matter. He took me by surprise, although I got a few hits in before he knocked me out. I think he has superpowers of some sort, although I'm not sure what they are."

"Why did he attack you?" I said. "I don't get it."

"I don't know why," said Rubberman. "Nor do I know why he didn't kill me when he had the chance. I need to check my safe and make sure he didn't steal anything valuable before he left."

"No time for that," I said. "Fro-Zen has attacked my school and is holding several faculty members and classmates of mine hostage."

"What?" said Rubberman. "No way. You're joking, right?"

I pulled out my phone and showed Rubberman a news article that had a picture of the frozen school at the top. "This isn't some kind of joke. It's why I'm here. Police are warning everyone to stay away from the school until they can arrest Fro-Zen, but Fro-Zen is threatening to kill his hostages if you don't show up to fight him."

Rubberman took my phone and looked at the article. His expression grew grimmer the longer he read it. "That idiot. I should have expected he would do something like this."

"Are we going to stop him?" I said. "We're the only ones who can approach him without risking the lives of the hostages."

Rubberman bit his lower lip, but he nodded and said, "Looks like that's what we'll have to do. But I have to go alone."

"What?" I said. "Rubberman, I'm your sidekick. You're not in any shape to fight Fro-Zen by yourself."

"Neither are you," said Rubberman. "Remember those two thugs who beat the crap out of you? Fro-Zen is heads and shoulders above both of them. You should stay here and check the Cave to make sure that the ninja didn't steal anything of importance."

Rubberman sat up, but cringed and put his hands on his head. "God, it feels like that ninja hit me with a sledgehammer."

"Yeah, go and fight a deadly supervillain after you were knocked unconscious for hours and suffered from some unknown head injury," I said. "That definitely won't get you killed, no sir."

Rubberman looked at me in exasperation. "I'm not paying you to be sarcastic, Alex."

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that if you go out and fight Fro-Zen by yourself, you won't last long against him," I said. "And ... well, I think I can talk with Fro-Zen."

I didn't want to tell Rubberman that, but I felt like I had to in order to make him listen to me. I didn't like the way he looked at me in confusion. "Why? Fro-Zen is not a reasonable man. You can't reason with him."

"Because ..." I hesitated, but decided that there was no point in keeping it a secret anymore. "Because I've already spoken with Fro-Zen once and he didn't attack me."

I braced myself for whatever Rubberman's reaction would be. I expected him to start ranting to me about meeting with a dangerous supervillain like Fro-Zen, which I had to admit he would have a point about.

But Rubberman just looked at me in confusion. "When did you meet him and what did you talk to him about?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "We don't have time for a long explanation. I just think you should let me come with you because he might be willing to listen to me. We might even be able to convince him to give up; at the very least, I might be able to convince him to let the hostages go, if nothing else."

I could tell that Rubberman was not very happy about my keeping my meeting with Rubberman a secret, but he nodded and said, "Fine. You can come with me. But after this is all over, you are going to tell me what you and Fro-Zen talked about. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"All right," said Rubberman. He stood up, rubbing the back of his head like it still ached. "Suit up. We have no time to lose."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been thrilled to ride in the Rubbermobile. The seats were cushy but firm, the heating warmed up the interior to a good temperature, and even the seat belts were fantastically comfortable and made me feel safe. I sat in the front passenger's seat while Rubberman took the wheel, which was covered in rubber. There was also a touch screen on the main dash, which displayed the time, weather, and a map of the entire city. The map acted as a GPS system; as soon as we got into the Rubbermobile, Rubberman input the address of Harold Golden High, which automatically gave us the best and quickest route to the school from the Elastic Cave. The interior of the Rubbermobile also smelled a lot like rubber, which actually wasn't nearly as sickening as you'd think.

And damn was this car fast. Rubberman had warned me that the Rubbermobile was faster than most cars, but I didn't really understand or even believe it until we zoomed up the tunnel from Level Two to the secret surface exit and out onto the streets in less than a second. The Rubbermobile zoomed through the streets of Golden City, turning corners and going down shortcuts I didn't even know existed. It was guided deftly by Rubberman, although I figured he had to have some aid from the car's AI system (which he called Rubberband because of 'branding,' or so he told me, anyway) because no one drove this well. We had to be going at least two hundred miles per hour, yet the Rubbermobile drove so smoothly through the city streets that I barely even felt it. It even had cup holders, although neither Rubberman nor me had any cups for them to hold right now.

But I couldn't enjoy the car ride nearly as much as I normally would have, because I was so anxious about Fro-Zen. Even though the Rubbermobile tore through the streets of Golden City like lightning, I kept worrying that we might not get there before Fro-Zen decided that we weren't going to show up and started killing everyone. Rubberman didn't seem nearly as anxious as me; he simply kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road, like we were going for a quick trip to the grocery store rather than going to confront a deadly supervillain who wouldn't hesitate to kill innocent people. That probably came from Rubberman's years of experience fighting supervillains and criminals.

Even though I was incredibly worried and anxious, I couldn't help but also feel amazed that Rubberman was driving so well despite his head injury. I thought that he might have been too dizzy or injured to drive, but he drove just as if he had not been knocked out. That was why I suspected Rubberband was helping him drive, although it could have been that Rubberman's healing factor was already kicking in and healing his injury.

We didn't talk as we drove. I had asked Rubberman what the plan was, but he just shrugged and told me we'd figure it out when we got there. That didn't exactly instill me with confidence, but I didn't say anything because I was under the impression that Rubberman was not interested in talking. I wondered if he normally improvised like this; given that we didn't know exactly what to expect, maybe that was for the best.

In what seemed like an eternity and yet no time at all, we reached Harold Golden High. The entire school was still surrounded by gigantic ice walls as thick as mountains; in fact, unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, it looked like the walls had gotten bigger and thicker since we last saw them. They were also slightly curved at the top, forming a partial dome over the school, although I didn't understand why until I noticed a police helicopter hovering nearby; no doubt Fro-Zen was attempting to make sure that the police did not send in anyone from the air.

The Rubbermobile came to a surprisingly smooth halt and Rubberman and I jumped out of the vehicle. Just as we left the vehicle, three police officers ran over to us. I didn't recognize any of them, but I figured the first guy--a large middle-aged man with a goatee and a balding head covered with a bad comb over--was the police chief, based on how the other two officers ran behind him like he was the head.

"Rubberman!" the police chief called out as he and the other two officers stopped in front of us; even though it was incredibly cold out, the officers were sweating. "So glad you are here. What took you so long?"

"Ran into some difficulties starting the Rubbermobile earlier," said Rubberman. He glanced at the ice walls. "Anyway, what's the situation like, Chief?"

I suddenly remembered that the police chief's name was Williams. I had seen him in the past, but didn't know him very well, although neither Williams nor his deputies were even looking at me.

"Bad," said Williams, wiping sweat off his big forehead. He gestured hopelessly at the huge ice walls. "Fro-Zen has at least a dozen hostages, including faculty and students. We don't know the status of any of them; Fro-Zen took all their phones and other devices and destroyed them so they couldn't call for help or contact the outside."

"Not surprising," said Rubberman. He rubbed the back of his head again; apparently his wound must have still hurt. "He still wants to see me, right?"

"Right," said Williams, nodding anxiously. "He's been very clear about that. He's also repelled every attempt by our officers to get inside; one of our officers got turned into an ice statue when he touched the walls. And he's also curved the walls to make sure that the helicopter can't land on the school or let down any officers to get in from there."

"Are there any entrances through the walls at all?" said Rubberman.

"No," said Williams, shaking his head. "The whole place is like an iceberg. Potentially, we could drill a hole, but we don't have the equipment for that, and even if we did, Fro-Zen would likely start killing hostages if we tried."

"Good point," said Rubberman. "Don't worry, Chief. We'll find a way in. Tell your officers to stand down, but be ready to come in as backup in case Fro-Zen turns out to be more dangerous than we thought."

"We?" Chief Williams repeated uncomprehendingly. Then he finally seemed to notice me, because he looked at me and asked, in a puzzled tone, "Who is this young man?"

"My new sidekick, Beams," said Rubberman, patting me on the shoulder. "He'll be assisting me in defeating Fro-Zen and rescuing the hostages."

"So the rumors were true after all," said Williams. Behind him, I saw one of his deputies slap a ten dollar bill into the hands of the other one; apparently they had been making bets on whether Rubberman would get a new sidekick or not. "Well, I don't know you very well, young man, but if Rubberman trusts you, then I do as well. I know you will be of great help, whatever your powers are."

"Uh, thanks," I said awkwardly, mostly because I didn't have a lot of experience talking with police officers. "We'll do our best, officer."

"Then let's get started," said Rubberman. "Williams, tell your officers to step away from the walls. Beams and I will find a way in."

"Yes, of course," said Williams.

Williams immediately began barking orders into the walkie talkie attached to his collar, while the two deputies ran to tell the other cops to keep their distance. Even the helicopter above was starting to pull back, although it didn't go too far away, of course.

Meanwhile, Rubberman and I walked up to the huge ice walls surrounding the school. My costume was designed to keep me warm no matter what the weather; even so, I could still feel the cold air radiating off the walls and it even made my visor fog up a bit, although my helmet had a built-in de-fogger that kept my visor clear. Rubberman didn't seem bothered by the cold, although my understanding was that Rubberman's suit was made out of the same materials as my own. But he wasn't even wearing a helmet; he wore a mask with his chin exposed. Guess he must have been tougher than me. I also noticed that Rubberman's eyes were focusing on the tops of the walls; he was probably looking out for Fro-Zen. I also looked at the tops of the walls, but Fro-Zen was not standing on top of them. That made sense; if Fro-Zen had been standing on top of the walls, that would have made him an easy target for the police snipers. He was probably somewhere inside the school, holding everyone hostage, where no one could shoot him.

Rubberman and I stopped in front of the walls. They were huge, at least as tall as a two-story building, maybe as tall as a three-story building. They were so thick that I couldn't even see through them. Remembering what Chief Williams had said happened to one of his officers who touched the ice walls, I didn't touch them; however, Rubberman did pick up a rock from the ground and hurled it at the walls with surprising strength. The rock actually shattered when it hit the ice wall, and it had looked like a pretty solid rock, too.

"Okay, boss, how do we get in?" I said. "Do you think you could smash the walls apart with your fists?"

Rubberman shook his head. "No. While I could conceivably stretch my arms back and slam my fists against the walls, I doubt it would even crack the surface. Fro-Zen clearly made sure that these walls were too thick for someone to break down through brute force alone. If Prime Man was here, he might be able to do it, but even then, it would probably take him a few minutes of nonstop punching to even crack it."

"Was Fro-Zen always this powerful?" I said, staring up at the towering ice walls that reflected the rays of the sun. "Because this seems kind of ridiculous."

Rubberman shook his head. "No. While he's always been gifted at using his ice powers, there was no way he could have done this when he was my sidekick. He must have grown stronger since leaving Golden City; that's partly why I didn't beat him back in the park. I had thought that he hadn't grown in the four years since I last saw him, but that was a mistake on my part."

I gulped. "Do you think we'll be able to beat him?"

"I don't know," said Rubberman. "The only way to know is to face him in battle and do our best. That means we need to get past this wall."

"Okay, but that just returns us to our original problem," I said, glancing at the walls. "Namely, how the heck do we make an entrance? If we can't use force and we can't climb over it, what should we do?"

Rubberman smiled. "Beams, have you already forgotten what your powers are?"

"I can shoot lasers from my eyes," I said. "How will that help us?"

"You can melt a hole through the ice that we can climb through," said Rubberman, gesturing at the walls.

"Are you sure I can do that?" I said. I put my hand on my visor. "These walls are pretty thick."

"I think you can," said Rubberman. "Especially if you are firing at full power. At the very least, you should give it a shot."

I decided that Rubberman had a point, so I nodded and was about to fire my lasers when a crack appeared in the ice in front of us. I was so surprised by the sudden appearance of the crack that I almost thought that I had somehow already cracked the ice without shooting my eye beams, but then I realized that my eyes felt normal.

Before our startled eyes, the ice in front of us began to crack open, like double doors. It opened inwards, slowly but surely, until there was soon a simple doorway in the walls that lead directly to the schoolyard. Beyond the doorway, I could see the front steps of Harold Golden High, covered in sleet and frost, but I didn't see Fro-Zen or anyone else on the other side.

Above the doorway were words that looked like they had been carved in the ice, words I hadn't noticed before, but must have just appeared along with the doorway. The words read, 'ENTER.'

"Well, that's certainly not ominous," I said. I looked at Rubberman. "What do you think, boss? Should we enter or not?"

"It is probably a trap," said Rubberman, "but at the same time, we don't have much of a choice. The hostages likely won't last much longer and we have no other way in. We'll just have to risk it. Ready?"

I nodded and the two of us passed through the doorway, ready for whatever trap Fro-Zen may have set for us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

As soon as Rubberman and I passed through the doorway, the doors immediately slammed shut all on their own. Not only that, but the doors themselves disappeared, becoming part of the walls once again. That meant that there was no going back now. Either we beat Fro-Zen and saved the hostages or Fro-Zen killed us. Rubberman didn't look afraid; however, he clearly had his guard up, his eyes scanning the school and its front steps carefully for Fro-Zen or any other dangers. I decided to follow his lead; however, I couldn't shake the feeling of cold fear that ran down my spine, because I was remembering how outmatched I'd been against those two thugs before and I didn't know how I'd survive a battle against Fro-Zen.

Harold Golden High looked like someone had left it inside a giant freezer for months and had forgotten to take it out before it got frostbite. The steps were covered in sleet and frost, making them dangerous to walk upon, while the building itself was covered in thick, icy snow that certainly didn't make it look very magical. The statue of Harold Golden himself at the front of the school was covered in icicles, which hung off his arms like the wings of a bird. The bushes were frosty, clearly killed by the cold, while the few bicycles in the bicycle rack appeared to have been frozen to the rack. At the right side of the building, the teachers' cars were all totally frozen, their windows and windshields covered in thick layers of frost that would probably take forever to melt. The windows of the school looked completely frozen over; I doubted you would be able to open them, which was probably intentional on Fro-Zen's part in order to make sure that none of the hostages could escape and to prevent police from entering that way.

At the top of the steps, the front doors, oddly enough, did not appear to be frozen shut. And the rest of the schoolyard was absolutely freezing; with the walls curved like a dome, the cold air was mostly trapped in here. Even with my costume's thermal design, I found myself starting to shiver, and even Rubberman looked like he was doing everything he could to not shiver. As for Fro-Zen himself, he was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the hostages, although I figured they were somewhere in the school.

It was also darker in here than outside. Although the morning sun's rays were starting to creep over the tops of the walls, the walls were still too thick for the rays to pierce. As a result, it was even colder than it normally would have been. I was pretty sure you could have put the contents of a very large freezer in here and none of it would melt for months.

"T-This is c-crazy," I said, my teeth chattering involuntarily. "Was this how the elementary school he attacked looked?"

Rubberman shook his head. "No. At the time, he only used his ice powers to lock himself and his hostages in one classroom. He could never have taken an entire school like this or create giant ice walls or make doors in those walls like that. And all from inside a building, with no direct view of the walls themselves. He used to have to be able to see his ice creations in order to manipulate them to do what he wanted."

"That's because I didn't know the true extent of my power, Dennis," came Fro-Zen's gravelly voice, which sounded like it was coming from the huge ice walls all around us. "It wasn't until I quit working for you and went on a journey of self-discovery that I learned just what I really am."

All of a sudden, a huge snowstorm came out of nowhere. Literally nowhere; one moment the air was still, the next we were caught in the middle of the largest snowstorm I'd ever seen. Both Rubberman and I began shivering and shuddering uncontrollably, but then the snowstorm went away just as quickly as it came, although the air was still ridiculously cold and our costumes were partially covered in snow.

But we weren't alone anymore. Standing in front of the statue of Harold Golden, leaning against its base with his arms crossed in front of his chest, was Fro-Zen himself. He still wore his huge overcoat and wide-brimmed hat, but his eyes were different. They were glowing blue, which made him look less like a human and more like the living embodiment of ice itself.

"Edward," said Rubberman, his tone even colder than Fro-Zen's ice. "Where are the hostages?"

"In the school," Fro-Zen said. His tone was even icier than Rubberman's, although it had a hint of amusement to it, too. "Don't worry, everyone is safe and sound. I left them a space heater to make sure they didn't freeze before you arrived. For a while there I thought that you might not show up, but I should have known better than to think that. After all, the city will most likely pay you very handsomely for saving so many innocent lives." He spread his arms. "I can see the headline now: 'LOCAL SUPERHERO SAVES SCHOOL KIDS FROM DELUSIONAL SUPERVILLAIN.' Perhaps the mayor will even give you the key to the city; well, unless you already have it, anyway." He suddenly scowled. "Of course, I expect today's headlines will instead read something like 'LOCAL SUPERHERO KILLED BY DELUSIONAL SUPERVILLAIN,' once I'm done with you."

"I'm not dying today, Edward," said Rubberman. "No one is. Not even you. You're just going to go to jail, like every other supervillain I've fought."

Fro-Zen chuckled. "Can you put handcuffs on a blizzard? Can you jail an avalanche? Dennis, you still don't quite get it. Not that I'm surprised. You don't understand anything unless it involves money or promoting your business." He put his hands on his chest. "I can't be arrested. There is not a prison on the planet that can hold me."

"Every criminal can be arrested," said Rubberman. "I caught you once. I can do it again."

"How arrogant," said Fro-Zen. "I'm not an inexperienced teenager anymore, Dennis. I am the blizzard and the snow, the ice and the frost. Even Prime Man couldn't beat me."

"You haven't changed much since you were a kid," said Rubberman. "Still bragging and still arrogant with no accomplishments to back up either."

"At least I care about people," said Fro-Zen. "Unlike you, I don't let innocent people die because they can't afford my services."

"No, you just endanger their lives because of a petty grudge you hold against me for free," said Rubberman. "A real man of the people, you are."

Fro-Zen growled. He pointed at us and shouted, "I did this only because I knew it would draw you out of your little cave! I don't want to harm the students and faculty, I really and truly don't. But I know that you don't want to look bad, that you are obsessed with money and fame, so I knew you would come if I put innocent lives in danger."

"I suppose it worked," said Rubberman. "Too bad Beams and I will beat you."

Fro-Zen suddenly smirked and looked at me. "Ah, I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you. Right, Alex?"

"How do you know his name?" said Rubberman in shock. He looked at me. "Beams, did you tell him?"

"I figured it out on my own," said Fro-Zen. "Not that it matters in the long run. Losing your sidekick license is a small price to pay for doing the right thing, isn't it, Alex?"

"W-What do you mean?" I said. I didn't stutter because of the cold.

Fro-Zen's pointing finger turned into an open palm. "You remember our conversation in the park. You've had time to think about what I told you, about the superhero industry in general and Rubberman in particular. You know just how hopelessly corrupt this industry is. You know what must be done to destroy it."

"I--" I said, but Rubberman interrupted me and said, "Alex, what did Fro-Zen tell you in the park? What did he tell you?"

"Everything you didn't, Dennis," said Fro-Zen, his smirk wider than ever. "I told him the truth about your skeletons, the truth about the superhero industry. He knows how this industry corrupts good people. He knows what money does to innocent people, especially when it is worshiped like a god. He has seen the truth and he doesn't like it. Right, Alex?"

I didn't look at Rubberman. I was still conflicted about what Fro-Zen told me that night in the park. I had tried to forget about it, but it was impossible. He was right that I didn't like what he told me, whether it was true or false. Rubberman's reaction to that woman who had almost been mugged by those thugs certainly didn't help matters, but ...

"Even if I don't like it, who says I will join you?" I said. "What if you lied to me?"

Fro-Zen chuckled. "Lied? I am not a liar. I tell the truth, always. That woman who was murdered by her ex-husband is no invention of mine. You remember her, don't you, Dennis?"

I looked at Rubberman. He looked stricken, as if Fro-Zen had just jammed a long, jagged knife into his heart.

"Rubberman?" I said. "Is that true?"

Rubberman nodded, though without looking at me. He was looking at Fro-Zen and his hands had balled into fists. "Edward, I see that you still don't get it. You know that it was a mistake, one I haven't repeated since then."

"Oh, is that true?" said Fro-Zen. "Don't lie to me, Dennis. I know you've turned away hundreds of innocent people, have left countless individuals to fall victim to terrible crimes, all because they didn't offer opportunities to advance your business or swell your bank account. You are just like every other greedy superhero bastard out there and don't try to pretend otherwise."

"I'm not pretending anything," said Rubberman. "You don't understand what you're saying, Edward, and you don't know what I've been doing since we last worked together. I don't know where you've been these past four years or who you've talked to, but--"

"Don't gaslight me," Fro-Zen snarled. The temperature in the air dropped even further. "I've seen the dark underside of this industry, the corruption and deals made between the government and superheroes. It is a corrupt business, corrupt to its very core, and you are the emblem of that corruption. Once your corpse is shown on every screen in the world, every superhero on the planet will know to shake with fear at the mere mention of my name."

Fro-Zen looked at me again. "And they can fear your name, too, Alex, if you do the right thing and join me. Abandon Dennis and his corrupt dealings. Ally with me and together we can cleanse the Earth of this corrupt industry."

I hesitated. I didn't know what to say. Fro-Zen's words were incredibly persuasive and I couldn't help but remember what Rubberman told me about how he would have left that woman to the thugs if I hadn't intervened. Maybe Fro-Zen was right. Maybe Rubberman really was as bad as he said he was. Maybe I should betray Rubberman and side with Fro-Zen. Just because Fro-Zen was crazy did not mean that he was wrong about the nature of the superhero industry, after all. Maybe it did need to be destroyed ... and maybe I needed to be the one to do it.

But then I remembered other things about Rubberman. I remembered how he didn't fire me after I wrecked his office during my fight with the ninja. I remembered how he and Adams trained me to use my powers for good. I remembered how Rubberman carried me to his Cave when I was injured by the thugs and had Adams tend to my wounds. I remembered how Rubberman told the woman we saved that she didn't have to pay us for saving her life.

"Well, Alex?" said Fro-Zen. "What is your answer?"

I looked Fro-Zen straight in the eye. "No."

Fro-Zen's smirk vanished as quickly as ice melting under the sun. "What?"

"I'm not going to betray Rubberman," I said. I spoke as firmly as I could, because I knew there was no going back after this. "I want nothing to do with you."

Fro-Zen looked genuinely shocked for a moment, as if I had just slapped him in the face and he wasn't quite sure what happened. He blinked several times before shaking his head. Now an angry scowl crossed his features and he pulled his outstretched hand away. His hands shook and he looked like he was slowly losing his sanity.

"Why?" said Fro-Zen. His voice was surprisingly restrained. "Don't you remember what I told you? Are you that stupid? Or are you just young and naive?"

"Neither," I said. "I don't know what happened between you and Rubberman all those years ago. I don't know where you've been or what you've done since going into hiding. But I do know that Rubberman has always been a good boss to me and a good superhero to Golden City. There's a reason the people love him, Edward, and it's because he's a real hero. Not like you. You say you care about the people, but then you go and hold children hostage like this. That's not what a hero, super or otherwise, would do. Real heroes don't drag innocent people into their personal conflicts like this without their consent. And you are not a real hero."

Even I didn't know where all of that came from. It must have been the result of so many days of thinking and reflecting on what Fro-Zen told me and what I'd seen and experienced during my time working for Rubberman. I could sense Rubberman listening to what I said, but I didn't know if he liked it or not. Not that I cared. I wanted to make it clear to Fro-Zen that I would never join him and why.

Fro-Zen ground his teeth. He put his hands on his head and closed his eyes, as if he was overcome with emotion and he was trying to make sure that he didn't lose control.

But then he lowered his hands and opened his eyes. They were still glowing blue, but now they looked utterly insane, as if the last vestiges of Fro-Zen's sanity had finally left his mind. "So that is your answer, Alex. I shouldn't be surprised."

"Why? Because I'm right?" I said.

"No," said Fro-Zen, shaking his head. "Because you are wrong. Clearly, Rubberman has indoctrinated you against me already. You're just a kid; you don't have enough life experience to make these sorts of decisions or understand the deeper truths about which I talk."

"You sure seemed to think I could understand your 'truths' when there was a chance I could agree with you," I said. "Funny, that."

Fro-Zen shrugged. "All revolutions are bloody. I dislike hurting children, but anyone who stands in the way of my mission must be destroyed. And that includes you, Alex. If you will not stand with me, then you must be slain, just like Rubberman and every other superhero on this planet will be very soon."

All of a sudden, a huge winter storm appeared around Fro-Zen. It focused on him, making what appeared to be a snow barrier around his form that completely obscured him from our vision. But it lasted for only a moment; in the next, it died off, revealing that Fro-Zen was gone.

"What?" I said as Rubberman and I both looked around in alarm. "Where did he go?"

"Up here," came Fro-Zen's voice again.

Rubberman and I looked up to see Fro-Zen standing on the roof of the school, his arms crossed over his chest. He was not smirking; instead, his mouth was twisted in an angry frown. He pointed down at us, like a god judging mortals from on high, and said, "I am done talking with both of you. Today is the day that the fall of the superhero industry--and all of the corruption inherent to it--begins!"

Immediately, the snow began to move. Before our startled eyes, creatures made of snow and ice rose from the white stuff on the ground. They were vaguely humanoid in shape, but they were hunched over and had claws made of sharp ice. Dozens and dozens of the creatures rose all around us until both Rubberman and myself were surrounded on all sides by these creatures. Some of them were larger than us, others smaller, but nonetheless, they all had the same glowing blue eyes as Fro-Zen and all appeared equally dangerous.

"It is too bad that you have chosen to die, Alex," said Fro-Zen from atop the school. "You could have been a real hero, but alas, you will die an ignoble death here. Perhaps your death will serve as a warning to all other sidekicks in the world as to what happens if they oppose me and my righteous mission." He gestured at us. "Puppets, kill Dennis and Alex. Let them feel the cold embrace of death."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The ice creatures rushed toward us, making no noises aside from the creaking of their frozen joints as they raised their claws to attack us. I immediately began firing laser blasts at them, my eye beams shattering their torsos or slicing off limbs, while Rubberman began throwing his fists every which way, hitting the ice puppets with enough force to shatter them. But for every one we destroyed, another three or four would take its place, and even the ones we destroyed would get reformed by the ice or would crawl along the ground toward us if enough of their body survived. Not only that, but it felt like the temperature in the area had gone down several degrees again, although I was too busy blasting apart ice creatures to pay attention to the current temperature.

As the battle progressed, it became rapidly clear that the puppets weren't just trying to kill us. They were also trying to keep us from getting closer to the school, where Fro-Zen was. That made sense, of course, because Fro-Zen was controlling them and if we defeated him, then the puppets would stop being a threat. Not that that realization really helped us; we were too busy fighting the puppets to get closer to Fro-Zen.

Still, I shouted to Rubberman above the sounds of shattered ice and loud winds, "We need to get to Fro-Zen!"

Rubberman smashed apart a nearby ice puppet and shouted back, "I know! Can you hit him from here?"

I blasted apart a particularly thick ice puppet before shaking my head. "No! My aim isn't good at such long distances."

"Then we need to get you up there," said Rubberman, ducking to avoid a slash from one of the ice creatures and then slamming it with his foot, again shattering it into pieces. "We can't fight forever! Fro-Zen will freeze us sooner or later, assuming that his puppets don't get us first."

I was about to respond to that, but then I slipped on the ice and fell on my bottom. That was actually a lucky move for me, because it allowed me to dodge the claws of an ice puppet that I hadn't noticed sneaking up on me. I immediately blasted its face off, however, and scrambled back to my feet as more puppets kept coming. "How? Only way onto the roof is through the school, but we can't get inside thanks to the puppets!"

Rubberman swung his outstretched arms in a circle, knocking down a dozen ice puppets in one go. "Who says we need to use the stairs?"

Before I could ask what he meant, Rubberman grabbed me by the arm and dragged me toward the nearest car. The ice puppets tried to get in our way, but Rubberman's fists and my eye beams tore through them like butter. Rubberman jumped on top of the nearest car--which I realized was Mr. Peters' silver Dodge--and pulled me up on top with him. The ice puppets, which had stayed away from us while we ran, began to converge on the car, although Rubberman quickly struck them down with his outstretched fists, blocking the paths of their fellow puppets with their destroyed bodies and briefly leaving them unable to advance toward us.

"Okay, Alex, I'm going to get you up there," said Rubberman.

"How?" I said, glancing at the roof of the school, where Fro-Zen still stood, watching us as if we were his personal entertainment. "It's too far and high for me to climb."

"I'm going to throw you," said Rubberman. "Duh."

"Throw me?" I said. "How?"

"It's a technique I used to use with Fro-Zen when he was my sidekick," said Rubberman. "Essentially, I use my body as a giant slingshot. It's very powerful and should be able to get you up there, although the landing probably won't be very soft."

"That's a stupid idea," I said. "Are you serious?"

"It's either that or we let his puppets kill us," said Rubberman. "Do you have any better ideas?"

I bit my lower lip, but nodded and said, "Okay. We'll go with your slingshot idea."

"Good," said Rubberman. "Let me get into position."

With practiced ease, Rubberman jumped down between two of the cars and stretched out his arms to grab the front ends of the cars. Then he walked backwards, stretching himself back further and further until his arms were stretched to what appeared to be their limit. He stopped and looked up at me. "Get in now! I can't hold this position forever, especially in this cold weather."

Reluctantly, I jumped down and sat down against Rubberman's body. I felt kind of silly, but at the same time, I said, "Okay, now what?"

"Tuck in your arms and legs and keep them tucked in when I shoot you," Rubberman said, his voice strained. "That way, you will be able to fly through the air like a cannon ball."

I tucked in my arms and legs so I looked like a ball. "Okay, what else--"

Without warning, Rubberman raised his feet off the ground and his body suddenly snapped forward. I screamed as I flew through the air, the wind roaring in my ears. I was sure that I was just going to crash through one of the windows or maybe splat against the walls of the school; however, Rubberman's aim must have been better than mine, because I instead found myself flying straight toward Fro-Zen. I caught a brief glimpse of the shocked look on Fro-Zen's face as I flew toward him and for a moment I was genuinely convinced that Rubberman's plan had been to just throw me at Fro-Zen and knock him out with my body.

But then Fro-Zen ducked and I missed him completely. I slammed into the school's roof and rolled halfway across it before I came to a halt. The impact of the crash--although not as bad as it could have been thanks to my helmet and costume--still left me dizzy and confused, my head spinning and my body aching. I made a mental note to never listen to any of Rubberman's ideas again after this, but then I heard boots crunching in the snow and I looked up to see Fro-Zen walking toward me.

Scrambling to my feet, I immediately fired a full blast of energy at him, but Fro-Zen turned into a snow cloud that my energy blast harmlessly blasted through. Then he solidified again, an angry scowl on his face.

"So Dennis sent his untrained sidekick to take down the big, bad villain," said Fro-Zen, his voice full of hate. "I shouldn't be so surprised. Dennis clearly didn't want to put his own life in danger, not when there's still money to be made and merchandise to be licensed to greedy corporations."

I backed away from Fro-Zen, beginning to regret agreeing to Rubberman's plan. "That's because my powers can beat yours. Heat melts ice."

"It doesn't matter how powerful you are if you can't hit me," said Fro-Zen. "Or have you forgotten that I am the storm and blizzard?"

Unfortunately, Fro-Zen had a point. It appeared that he could turn his body into snow at will, meaning he was effectively untouchable. Yeah, getting me onto the rooftop to confront Rubberman personally was definitely a dumb idea.

But I couldn't give up now. I kept firing laser blast after laser blast at Fro-Zen, each one at full power, but none of my attacks ever landed. He kept turning parts of his body into snow or ice, letting the blasts pass harmlessly through his body. That just made me panic more and fire more lasers than ever, even though I was well aware of how useless it was by now.

Then my foot couldn't find something solid and I almost fell off, but I managed to catch myself and look over my shoulder. I had reached the edge of the roof, meaning I couldn't go back any further or I'd fall, probably to my death given how high up I was. I looked back at Fro-Zen, who had stopped about two dozen feet away from me, his smirk wider than ever.

"Fro-Zen, my man," I said, trying to buy as much time as I could to think of a way to beat him. "I know what you've been through, but you don't need to do this. If you give up now, you could potentially get a shorter prison sentence than you would otherwise. I'll even throw in a good word for you. How does that sound?"

"You're assuming that I will be arrested," said Fro-Zen. He shook his head. "I'm no fool. I am not going to turn myself in. Even if I did, there is not a prison in the world that could hold me for long. A storm is coming, Alex, a blizzard, really, and you and Dennis will be caught in it, along with every other superhero who continues to engage in the corruption endemic to this industry."

"What if you're wrong?" I said. "What if we stop you?"

"Even if you did, you couldn't stop the blizzard," said Fro-Zen. He spread his arms. "Forces of history much greater than any of us are coming. A period of change is upon us and only those who accept it will be able to ride out the storm." He pointed at me. "And you will not be one of those."

Fro-Zen lowered his arms. "You know, Alex, I deeply regret having to kill you. Sidekicks, in my opinion, are the biggest victims of this corrupt business. They are young kids who get sucked into this business with promises of money and fame, but then get used up and fired like any minimum wage employee once their boss no longer requires their services. Or they end up just as corrupted as their bosses."

"Meanwhile, you just want to kill me," I said. "Yeah, that's so much better than being used up and fired."

"At least I'm honest about what I want to do to you," said Fro-Zen. He tilted his head to the side. "Do you honestly think that Dennis will treat you fairly? That he won't fire you as soon as you become a drag on his business? Because he will. Once he no longer has need of you, he will toss you aside like so much trash and replace you with someone else. But enough talking. I know you won't listen to reason, so I will simply make you an example for all sidekicks who continue to support this vile industry."

Fro-Zen raised his hand, but before he could freeze me, we heard the sound of someone running. Fro-Zen whirled around and I saw around him that Rubberman--who had somehow gotten on the roof at some point--was running toward him, and very fast, despite how cold it was. Before Fro-Zen could do anything, Rubberman launched himself toward us. His whole body stretched as he flew through the air until he looked like a bunch of tied together snakes flying. He slammed into Fro-Zen and immediately wrapped his body and limbs around the supervillain, tying him up like a snake.

"Gotcha!" Rubberman shouted.

Rubberman immediately began to squeeze, causing Fro-Zen to gasp in pain. Fro-Zen even began making choking noises; it was pretty clear that Rubberman was trying to knock him out by squeezing the air out of him. All I could do was just stand there and watch, because I couldn't shoot Fro-Zen without hitting Rubberman, too. Not that that was a problem, really, given how Rubberman seemed to have Fro-Zen under control.

But then Fro-Zen stopped choking and his whole body turned into snow, which collapsed onto the roof in an instant. Rubberman also fell onto the roof, looking like a pile of ropes before body and limbs snapped back together and his proportions returned to normal. Rubberman jumped back to his feet and twisted his head this way and that, obviously searching for the missing Fro-Zen.

I also looked around for Fro-Zen, but it seemed like he had completely vanished. "Damn it, where did he go?"

"I don't know," said Rubberman. "But be careful. Fro-Zen is a dangerous lunatic who will use every advantage to kill us, so don't let your guard down."

I nodded, but then I felt something cold wrap around my ankle and I was yanked backwards off the edge of the roof. Startled, I nonetheless managed to grab onto the edge of the roof, holding on for dear life as I looked over my shoulder to see what had tried to pull me down to my doom.

It was one of Fro-Zen's ice puppets, still gripping my ankle and tugging at it in an attempt to drag me down. And it wasn't alone; dozens of ice puppets stood on the ground below, their sharp claws shining in the growing rays of the sun that were starting to peep over the curved walls. I immediately blasted the ice puppet with my eye beams, blasting apart its face and sending it falling to the ground below, where it shattered into a million pieces upon impact and even took out a couple of its fellow puppets in the process.

But that didn't help me get back up. I tried to pull myself back up, but the roof was slippery and I couldn't find any footholds to help me up. I could feel my grip slipping and I was just about to let go and fall before Rubberman's hand wrapped around my wrist. Rubberman's head appeared over the edge of the roof, a look of worry on his face. "Alex, are you okay? Let me pull you up."

I was about to thank him in relief, but before I could say anything, a pillar of snow rose above and behind Rubberman silently. It quickly turned into Fro-Zen, who was now wielding a sword made out of ice, complete with jagged edges that looked capable of cutting through flesh like butter.

"Rubberman, behind you!" I shouted.

Rubberman had just enough time to turn around before Fro-Zen stabbed him in the gut with the sword. Rubberman's hand let go of my wrist, although I was able to redouble my grip to keep myself from falling off. Still, I couldn't help but stare up at Rubberman, too shocked to even speak, as Fro-Zen yanked the now-bloody blade out of Rubberman's stomach. Rubberman immediately collapsed, his wound rapidly bleeding onto the snow and ice of the rooftop.

"Rubberman, no!" I shouted. "No!"

Fro-Zen, on the other hand, looked happier than I'd ever seen him. He stood over Rubberman, the blood on his blade dripping off its tip, a delusional grin spreading across his lips as he looked down upon his former boss.

"Dennis, Dennis, Dennis," said Fro-Zen, his voice strangely low, although that just made it even creepier. "Your age is starting to catch up to you. You would have been able to dodge that if you were younger, but I guess age slows all of us eventually, eh, my old friend?" He raised the blade above his head, clearly to finish off Rubberman.

My fear instantly turned into rage when I saw him do that. The temperature of my eyes shot up, hotter than ever before; in fact, my eyes actually started crackling with energy. They had never done that before, but I didn't care. I just screamed Fro-Zen's name and unleashed the most powerful laser blasts I'd ever fired in my whole life at him. It was so powerful that the heat actually washed over me and melted some of the ice and snow off the building.

Fro-Zen didn't even get to scream before the energy blast struck him directly in the chest. The roar of the energy blast completely blocked out all other sounds; I couldn't even hear myself think for a moment.

But the explosion lasted for maybe a second before passing away. When I looked at where Fro-Zen had been standing mere moments ago, there was nothing other than a smoking, blackened spot on the roof, along with his burnt boots. Aside from that, it appeared that my energy blast had totally incinerated Fro-Zen. And I knew he was dead, because the puppets below collapsed into piles of ice and the temperature in the air rose significantly, although it was still very cold.

That stunned me. I hadn't known my energy blasts could be powerful enough to incinerate a full-grown adult. That made me wonder just what the upper limits of my eye lasers were; I'd have to find out sometime.

My thoughts were interrupted by a groan from Rubberman. Remembering what had happened to him, I forgot all about my eye beams as I scrambled back onto the roof. Rubberman lay on the roof not far away from me in a half-fetal position, his hands covering his bloody stomach wound where Fro-Zen had stabbed him moments ago. The snow and ice around him was stained red with his blood and smelled weird, too, a weird mixture of snow and blood.

"Rubberman!" I shouted, running over to him and kneeling beside him. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

Rubberman groaned, but he looked up at me. "Yes. I think I will be okay, but I need to see a doctor fast. My healing factor should keep the wound from infecting, but only until I can get proper medical care."

"Okay, okay," I said. I looked around in worry. "But the walls--"

I was interrupted by the sound of helicopter blades above and looked up to see the police helicopter from before coming down through the gap in the curved walls. I immediately began waving my arms, trying to catch the attention of the pilot, which seemed to be working, because the helicopter was making its way down to the school roof. Of course, Rubberman and I did kind of stick out like sore thumbs in our superhero costumes, but either way, I was just glad that someone had come to save us before Rubberman's wound got any worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

One week later ...

Nowadays, I'm pretty content with my superpowers. Maybe destructive eye beams aren't as practical as, say, super speed or flight, but once you got the hang of them, they could be used for all sorts of things, like heating up a cold cup of coffee quickly or melting thick ice.

Unfortunately, they still couldn't get me to work on time, so on Monday morning, a week after our battle with Fro-Zen, I got up, took a shower, ate breakfast, and said good bye to my parents before hopping on my bike and zooming through the streets of Golden City. I had been so tired last night that I didn't wake up until later than usual, which meant that I might be late, unless I went really fast. I knew that Rubberman wouldn't be that angry with me if I was late, but I still disliked being late for work. Adams, at least, would give me a hard time about it and, because today was going to be a long day, I didn't really want to have to deal with his snarky comments all day.

As always, Golden City's streets were pretty quiet this morning, so I had some time to reflect on the events of the past week as I biked. It was hard to believe that it had been only a week since Rubberman and I defeated Fro-Zen on top of Harold Golden High; it seemed like a lifetime ago now, even though it had only been a week ago.

The police helicopter had managed to get Rubberman to Golden City General, where he was treated for his wound. Turns out that his stomach wound looked much worse than it actually was; he had somehow managed to keep Fro-Zen from stabbing any truly vital organs that would have required extensive surgery. As a result, Rubberman was stitched up and released from the hospital in two days, although he was given strict orders not to engage in any crime-fighting or other strenuous activities until his wounds completely healed. That seemed to bum Rubberman out, but at the same time, I could tell he was relieved, because he needed to spend some time on other aspects of his business that didn't require as much fighting deadly supervillains.

Speaking of supervillains, Fro-Zen was most definitely dead. The police who came in the helicopter found no evidence that Fro-Zen had run away or escaped. It appeared that I had indeed killed him, although that did not fix all of the problems that he left behind.

For one, Harold Golden High was going to remain shut down for the foreseeable future. Aside from the huge ice walls (which I heard were going to be taken apart and then used to make ice sculptures in Golden City Park, although I didn't know if that was true or not), the school itself was still being thawed out from being completely frozen over. There was no definite deadline for when it would open up again, but Mayor Thomas told parents that he would have it opened again within the next month. I had no idea how they were going to ensure that, but I suspected he just said that to get panicking parents off his back. Typical political stuff, I guess.

The hostages, at least, were all okay. As it turned out, Fro-Zen had not been lying when he said that he had not harmed the hostages; however, Mr. Peters kept telling everyone that if he had been a superhero, Fro-Zen would have been defeated much sooner than he was. I found that kind of funny, because if it hadn't been for Mr. Peters' serum, I wouldn't have gained my powers and therefore would not have been able to defeat Fro-Zen and save him. So in a kind of roundabout way, he was right, although of course I didn't tell him because I didn't want him to know my real identity.

Speaking of identities, Rubberman finally introduced me to the public once he got out of the hospital. Of course, even before he introduced me at the press conference, there had been rumors swirling around about Rubberman's new sidekick named Beams. My friend, Frank, called me to talk about the rumors, but I didn't say much because I was still bound by law not to reveal my secret identity to anyone. And when Beams was finally introduced to the public, people online began speculating about his real identity, although I was so busy over the last week that I didn't pay much attention to those online rumors. Rubberman told me not to get too hung up on what people said about me online anyway.

One of the nicer things about my introduction to the world was the merch deals that seemed to come like magic. Rubberman kept getting phone calls and emails from businesses interested in making merch based on me, while companies that he'd already made deals with were calling to inquire about whether he would be willing to license them rights to my likeness in addition to the rights of his own likeness that he'd already licensed them. Even the director from the upcoming Rubberman movie had called about possibly getting me in it, which I really wanted to brag about, but due to laws regulating sidekicks, all I could do was talk about it with my family.

Mom, of course, had been mortified when she learned that I'd fought a real-life supervillain, while Dad had been proud that I'd been the one to land the killing blow. I tried to tell Mom that Fro-Zen was deader than dead and that we'd never have to worry about him ever again, but she seemed really paranoid and tense over the next week; for example, she stopped putting ice in our drinks because she was convinced that Fro-Zen might use one of our ice cubes to choke us or something. Granted, she is starting to get over it as time goes on and Fro-Zen doesn't appear in our ice maker, but I'm now wondering if this is how Mom will act every time I scuffle with a supervillain.

As for James, he called me from college to tell me that he was proud of me for taking down Fro-Zen. He even sounded kind of jealous, which I didn't understand until I remembered that James, when he had been a sidekick, had never actually fought a supervillain before, much less defeated one. That mean that, for the first time in my life, I had done something that James hadn't. I tried not to brag, but honestly, I did brag just a little when I talked to James, because I figured I earned it.

Because school was out for a while, Rubberman increased my hours to thirty hours a week, at least until school got back in. He also had me train more in the Rubber Room; well, technically, Adams trained me, while Rubberman, due to having to recover from his injuries, just sat off to the side and gave me advice about how to throw a punch or kick every now and then. Rubberman told me that he wanted me to learn how to fight with my fists and that that would be my number one priority for a while, but he also mentioned possibly teaching me how to drive the Rubbermobile or at least how to turn it on and perform basic maintenance on it. That excited me so much that I found it hard to focus on much else, which led to more than a few sharp remarks from Adams whenever I lost focus during my training sessions.

In fact, the thought of learning how to drive the Rubbermobile distracted me now, which was why I almost ran into a blonde-haired girl as I turned the corner. At the last second, I turned my bike and went off the pavement and onto the street, but I didn't fall over. I came to a stop to look at the girl and said, "Whoa, sorry, I didn't see--"

My words caught in my throat. It was Greta again, looking pretty much like how she had looked when I last ran into her like this. The only difference was the cross necklace hanging off her neck; aside from that, she was dressed in the same pink skirt and white coat that she had been before.

Greta, however, just smiled a brilliant smile at me and said, "Oh, it's fine. I should have been watching where I was going." She looked at me more closely. Her eyes were nearly as blue as Fro-Zen's had been, but much kinder. "Hey, you're Alex, right? Didn't we meet like this before a while ago?"

"Y-Yeah," I said. I was still stuttering when I spoke to her; god damn it, when would I stop being an idiot around her? "Kind weird, right?"

"It's like deja vu all over again," said Greta. "Last time, though, you fell onto the street and hurt yourself. I guess you've gotten better at controlling your bike, huh?"

"Definitely," I said. "I practice all the time. It's my hobby."

I wanted to slam my face into the handle bars. I was starting to think that I would rather have had James' smooth moves with the girls as a superpower than my eye beams; at least then I wouldn't say stupid things like that in front of pretty girls.

Greta, however, just giggled, probably figuring I was an idiot and idiots said things like that. "Well, at least you didn't drop your license this time. Say, where are you going, anyway?"

"Uh ..." I tried to think of an answer that wouldn't raise her suspicions. "Somewhere important. What about you?"

"Going to have breakfast with my friends and then do some shopping," said Greta. "With school being out, we're going to shop all day long. It's going to be awesome."

"Uh, cool, I guess," I said. I glanced at my watch and started. "Oh, damn, I mean, uh, I got to go. Have fun shopping with your friends."

Before Greta could say anything, I took off on my bike again, hoping to get to work before it was too late. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing a big opportunity here, so when I reached the next corner, I stopped and shouted to Greta, "Hey, Greta!"

Greta had been about to walk around the corner out of sight, but she stopped when I called to her and she looked over at me. "Yes?"

I steeled myself and shouted, in the most casual voice I could muster, "Want to grab lunch sometime? "

To my relief, Greta actually smiled. "Sure! Just text me with the time and date later and we'll get something set up."

"Sure," I said. "Uh, bye!"

I turned and resumed biking through the streets, a big grin on my face. I couldn't believe it. I had never asked out a girl before and Greta had actually accepted my invitation. I couldn't wait to tell Rubberman and Adams; well, Rubberman at least. I doubted Adams would care; he'd probably just make some derogatory comment about teenage love or whatever.

But I didn't care, because I was pretty sure that I would be smiling all day long, regardless of whatever Adams or anyone else said.
CHAPTER THIRTY

Sasha Munroe sat in her office at the headquarters of Munroe Acquisitions, reading an email on her laptop from one of her agents about buying the rights to an up-and-coming superhero in New York. It sounded like a good deal to her, and she had honed her business instincts over such a long time that she trusted them even more than her own advisers. Of course, her instincts were still not quite as good as Father's had been, but she was still better at business than most, especially the superhero business, which was full of so many newbies that it was pretty easy to profit from their naivete and bad decision making skills. She sent a reply to the agent telling him to keep pursuing the deal and to give her updates about it.

Once she sent the email, Sasha leaned back in her chair and sighed. She had been working nonstop all through the night, making deals, calling business associates, sending messages to her agents and managers, asking for favors from her favorite politicians, and doing a whole bunch of other chores besides. She knew it wasn't good to neglect her sleep, but she could get so obsessed with her work that ten hours would fly by when it only felt like ten minutes. She decided that she was going to turn off her computer and head home for the night.

That was when she heard movement and looked up to see a tall Japanese man in dark ninja garb standing in the corner of her office. She didn't know when he had gotten there; the door was closed, as was the window, and she had not heard them open. She was also sure that he had not been standing there even five seconds ago, although given how exhausted she was, Sasha couldn't be sure that she had not neglected the ninja due to sleep deprivation. Then again, she had hired him precisely due to his ability to get in and out of anywhere without being seen or heard unless he wanted to. Sasha sometimes suspected that he had a superpower, but the ninja had never confirmed nor denied it whenever she asked him about it.

"Takeshi," said Sasha. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "What are you doing here? You know I don't like it when you just show up like this."

"I have come with a report about Rubberman and Beams," said Takeshi. She noticed he didn't apologize; then again, he never did, which was both an infuriating and admirable quality of his.

Sasha's tiredness immediately vanished. She leaned forward, looking at Takeshi with more interest. "What do you have to report?"

"Rubberman is resuming Beam's training in using his powers and hand-to-hand combat," said Takeshi. "He is also recovering from the stab wound that Fro-Zen inflicted on him last week and should be completely healed by the end of the week."

"And the police have not found any hint of Fro-Zen anywhere, yes?" said Sasha.

"Yes," said Takeshi, nodding. "Beams' blast totally destroyed him. As far as we know, Fro-Zen is totally dead. His only remains are his boots, but they have no incriminating evidence on them to link him to you or anyone else in Munroe Acquisitions."

Sasha sighed again. That had been the part that worried her most. She had been working with Fro-Zen when he came back to Golden City, offering him a place to hide where the police would not find him until he could deal with Rubberman. She had pretended to be sympathetic to Fro-Zen's concerns about corruption in the superhero industry, claiming that she also wished to take it down, but in truth, she had only seen Fro-Zen as a means to an end. "That's good to hear."

"Perhaps, but this all seems fruitless to me, madame," said Takeshi. "After all, Rubberman is not going to sell his business to you now, as you wanted. It seems like we wasted all of this time, effort, and money for nothing."

Sasha understood Takeshi's point. The plan had been for Fro-Zen to kill the students and faculty in the school before Rubberman could stop him (hence why she had Takeshi knock him out in the Elastic Cave the night before Fro-Zen's attack). That would have resulted in a citywide, maybe even countrywide, backlash against Rubberman for his failure to save the school. Then Sasha would move in and offer to buy the Rubberman business from Dennis, which would have been worthless to him, since no one would want to do business with a failed superhero like him. She bet that Dennis would sell it to her at a much lower price than he normally would have in a desperate bid to get rid of it. She probably would have done something about Fro-Zen at some point, too, since she couldn't allow anyone to link him to her.

Of course, now that wasn't going to happen, but Sasha said, "Just be glad that you and I didn't go to jail for this. Sometimes, you have to take what victories you can, even if they aren't what you wanted. Now, is that all you have to report for now?"

"Yes, madame," said Takeshi, nodding. "Do you have any further orders for me? Do you want me to attack Rubberman again, while he is weak?"

Sasha shook her head. "No. Stay to the shadows and don't interact directly with Rubberman, Beams, or Adams. Keep returning with regular reports and don't do anything else without my knowledge or permission."

"Yes, madame," said Takeshi with a bow.

Sasha blinked once and Takeshi was gone. She wasn't sure how he vanished so quickly, but she didn't care. She just yawned and stood up, ready to go back home to her apartment. Maybe instead of a quick nap, she'd just go and get a full eight hours of sleep.

But before she left, Sasha looked at the article on her laptop's browser. It was the press release sent by Rubberman to all of the major news stations, introducing his sidekick Beams to the world. Beams stood by Rubberman's side looking kind of awkward, but Sasha knew better than to underestimate that kid now.

He ruined all of my plans, Sasha thought, her grip on the arms of her chair tightening so much that her knuckles turned white. Had he not woken up Rubberman, I would already have money from the Rubberman license flowing into my bank account like water. He's still ignorant and naive, but sometimes it is the ignorant and naive that you need to worry about, because they have no idea what they're doing and so can't be predicted by conventional methods.

That meant that Sasha would have to deal with him, too, if she was going to get ownership of Rubberman's business. As she closed her laptop, grabbed her coat, and made her way out of her office, she was already making plans to take Beams down. She wouldn't strike him directly; no, that just wasn't her style. She'd find a way to hit him so hard that he wouldn't even suspect that she was behind it.

That thought put a smile on her face as she turned off the lights of her office.

-

Read on for more titles by Lucas Flint and a preview chapter of First Date, the next book in the series!

I hope you enjoyed my little tale. Please don't forget to give this book a quick review wherever you bought it. Even just a two-word, "Liked it" or "Hated it" review helps so much. Positive or negative, I am grateful for all feedback from my readers.
PREVIEW:

First Date

Chapter One

Sometimes, I wish I had a normal job like most teens my age. Like working at a fast food restaurant or a convenience store or even mowing lawns for the neighbors. Flipping burgers or bagging groceries would be a lot easier than fighting supervillains who like to rampage through downtown Golden City in giant mecha suits. And I'm not even paid more than if I worked in a restaurant, either. I'd have to talk with my boss about getting a raise one of these days. It didn't help that today was Sunday, which was normally my day off, but my boss called me in to deal with this emergency and I couldn't say no, not when we were dealing with a real threat here.

Not that a pay raise was my biggest priority at the moment. As I crouched behind an overturned sedan, trying to catch my breath, I was more concerned with defeating the aforementioned supervillain in a giant mecha suit who was currently searching for me and Rubberman, my boss. Although I heard him smashing the street and yelling some really nasty threats at us, I couldn't help but peer around the side of the overturned car to get an idea of what the villain was doing.

Right in the middle of the street stood a gigantic mecha. It was about two stories tall and shaped kind of like a tank with arms and legs. Its body was covered in blackened laser blast marks from where I'd hit it dozens of times over the last hour, but its hide was incredibly thick, because even my strongest eye blasts couldn't pierce its skin. The mecha had twin machine guns on its shoulders and carried a gigantic sword half as long as a school bus in its hands. Its plating was mostly silver and gray, while on its back was a rocket pack which apparently helped it fly. At its feet lay a bisected car, cut cleanly by the sword's energy blade, smoke rising from both halves, though thankfully the car's owner had apparently fled at some point.

In the head of the robot--which was shaped like a bucket--sat the villain in question, a guy who called himself Lord Mechanika. You'd think, with a name like that, he'd be some kind of big, imposing regal figure with a cape and clothes fit only for royalty, but in truth, he was kind of a scrawny computer nerd (not hating on nerds here, because I'm kind of one myself). Thick glasses were perched on a long, hooked nose, from which crazy black eyes flashed like bombs. He wore one of those stupid nerd chic T-shirts with a Star Trek quote on it or something, but I couldn't read it from a distance. I could, however, tell that Lord Mechanika wore gloves and boots with wires that disappeared from sight, gloves and boots that apparently let him control the mecha itself like it was an extension of his body. It would have been an impressive creation if he wasn't also a psycho who was trying to kill innocent civilians for no reason.

"Rubberman!" Lord Mechanika shouted, his screechy voice amplified by the speaker where the 'mouth' of the mecha would normally be. "Show yourself, you coward! Or are you afraid of the power of Lord Mechanika and his Death Mecha of Doom? Not that I blame you, because this is the most advanced mecha on the planet. Even the US military doesn't have access to this kind of technology!"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Death Mecha of Doom? Seemed kind of repetitive and melodramatic, but given how he had already wrecked half of Main Street and given both me and Rubberman a run for our money, I should probably take him more seriously. That's kind of hard to do, though, given how high-pitched his voice is.

Speaking of Rubberman, I glanced at the building tops to see if I could spot him. Unfortunately, I couldn't see Rubberman anywhere at the moment, but that wasn't surprising. Rubberman had told me to find cover while he set up a trap to disable Lord Mechanika's robot, which I was more than happy to do, given how ineffective my laser blasts were against his machine's tough hide. Even so, I couldn't help but silently agree with Lord Mechanika, though for different reasons, because the longer it took Rubberman to set up his trap, the more time Lord Mechanika had to cause more property damage and either kill or harm any civilians. Granted, most of the people in the area had either fled or locked themselves inside the safety of nearby homes and businesses, but that didn't mean much, given how Mechanika's 'Death Mecha of Doom' could easily level a whole skyscraper it wanted. And given how frustrated Lord Mechanika sounded, it would not be long before he began smashing up even more cars and street lamps in an effort to get Rubberman's attention.

But then, that was basically why Lord Mechanika was doing this stuff in the first place.

According to what I've been able to piece together from Lord Mechanika's partially coherent shouts of rage, he was a normal robotics engineer known as Greg Elliot, who worked for McCoy Robotics, a robotics company with a factory near Golden City. Elliot, however, was also a superhero fan; in particular, he was a fan of my boss, Rubberman, and once tried to get his autograph at some event Rubberman was at, but apparently my boss had rudely ignored him or something.

So Elliot--excuse me, 'Lord Mechanika'--did the logical thing that any spurned fan would do and built a mecha that wouldn't look out of place in a mecha anime. Apparently, he's made it his life mission to destroy Rubberman for the crime of rudely refusing to give him his autograph or something like that.

I know Rubberman always says that most criminals and supervillains tend to be petty megalomaniacs who pull these sorts of stunts just to feel better about themselves, but I didn't really believe it until today. For that matter, I wondered what Lord Mechanika thought would happen after he beat Rubberman; did he intend to perform the time-honored supervillain tradition of attempting to take over the world?

I shook my head. Focus. I had to focus. Rubberman always told me that I let myself get too distracted sometimes and that being distracted can often get you killed in a fight. I needed to stay behind this car and wait for Rubberman's signal, a signal I could miss if I wasn't careful. I would worry about Lord Mechanika's terrible motivations for becoming a supervillain later.

Pulling my head back behind the car, I was prepared to keep an eye out for Rubberman's signal when a sudden shriek of terror caused me to look around the car again.

Damn it. Lord Mechanika held in his right mecha hand a thin, dark-haired teenage girl who was probably my age. She was pretty cute, I gotta admit, almost elf-like in her prettiness, but I didn't know where he had gotten her from, given how the street was supposedly evacuated when Mechanika attacked. Perhaps she accidentally wandered into the street or something; not that it really mattered, given how Lord Mechanika could easily squash her between the fingers of his mech like a bug. The girl, to her credit, was struggling to free herself, but it was pretty obvious that she was completely at Mechanika's mercy.

"Rubberman!" Lord Mechanika shouted, waving the girl above his mecha's head suddenly. "See this innocent, sweet girl I have here? Unless you come out and fight me like a man, I'll squeeze her until she pops like a balloon. And I'm not bluffing. I wouldn't hesitate to hurt girls like her, who always choose those dumb jocks over the nerds who run this society in the first place!"

Great. In addition to being a spurned fan, Lord Mechanika was also a loser still hung up by the fact that he had been rejected by some hot girl in high school. I'm starting to think that Rubberman was actually understating just how petty most supervillains and criminals actually are.

Regardless, that girl needed to be rescued. I didn't see Rubberman anywhere, but I figured that he was too busy setting up his trap to actually save the girl. That was bad, because Lord Mechanika looked like he was definitely going to kill her if Rubberman didn't show up.

I know that Rubberman told me to stay put, but I couldn't, in good conscience, continue to follow his orders if that meant letting an innocent person die. Rubberman would probably be angry with me, but I decided I would worry about that later after the girl was saved.

I dashed out from behind the car and, stopping next to a street lamp, shouted, "Hey, Elliot! Put the girl down now or else!"

Lord Mechanika looked at me and growled. "You're not Rubberman. You're just his stupid sidekick. What, is Rubberman so afraid of getting his pretty costume dirty that he's sending teenagers to deal with me?"

I bit my lower lip. "It doesn't matter. I said, put the girl down now or else."

"Or else what?" said Lord Mechanika. He chuckled. "Look, kid, I know that your eye beams can't hurt my machine, so fighting me would just be a waste of time. Why don't you go back home and do your homework or something?"

"Sorry, but I can't just let freaks like you harm innocent girls like her," I said. "I mean, I know you were probably rejected by a girl like her in high school or something like that, but threatening to kill an innocent teenage girl doesn't make you look like a big, bad supervillain. It just makes you look like a pathetic loser, to be frank."

Lord Mechanika's eyes widened in rage behind his glasses. "Loser? I'll show you who's a loser! Die!"

Lord Mechanika's shoulder machine guns suddenly swiveled toward me. I dove back behind the overturned sedan I had been behind just moments before. A volley of bullets struck the roof of the car, creating a deafening sound of lead clashing against metal, but luckily none of the bullets managed to pierce the car. Still, Lord Mechanika probably hated me even more than Rubberman right now, which meant that he probably wasn't going to stop until I was blasted into tiny little pieces. Mechanika may have been a loser, but he was a loser with a robot equipped with shoulder machine guns and carrying a giant sword, which meant that he was both more dangerous and yet somehow more pathetic than he normally would have been. I was starting to regret pissing him off.

A large shadow suddenly appeared over me and I looked up in time to see Lord Mechanika's huge sword coming down toward me. With a yelp, I rolled forward, just barely avoiding the huge sword, which slashed through the sedan as easily as butter. Rolling back to my feet, I looked up at Lord Mechanika's mech and fired twin laser blasts at the machine, which were amplified by my helmet's refracted glass visor.

Unfortunately, the lasers only glanced off the side of the mech, which Lord Mechanika did not even seem to notice. His mecha turned to face me, raising the sword above its head while the girl in its other hand continued to scream her head off. Despite its size, the mecha was fast and it brought down its sword on me again, this time faster than I could dodge.

So I unleashed a powerful, continuous blast of lasers at the sword. The lasers struck the sword dead on and, to my surprise, actually cut through it, splitting the blade cleanly in half. The top half went flying off in a random direction, while the lower half remained in Lord Mechanika's hand, though instead of bringing it down on me, he just stared at it in shock for a moment, like he could not believe that his sword was broken.

But then Lord Mechanika threw the lower half of sword away and snatched me up and lifted me up into the air. I began beating on the huge mech's fist, but even after a month of heavy training with Rubberman, my own fists were useless against the iron grip of Mechanika. And when he squeezed me hard enough that I thought I heard something snap, I gave up. The girl had given up, too; she was not screaming, but instead whimpering in fear. And, despite how terrible the situation was, I couldn't help but notice how cute she was.

"Rubberman!" Lord Mechanika bellowed, his voice even louder up close. "I have your stupid sidekick! If you don't come out and face me like a man, I will crush him and the girl like soda cans!"

I heard the sound of rubber snapping into place and Lord Mechanika turned around, forcing me and the girl to turn with him. Standing in the center of the street, near a pothole created by Lord Mechanika's steps, was Rubberman himself. His hands were balled into fists, but he looked less likely to throw a punch at Lord Mechanika and more like he was frustrated at his own powerlessness. His blue and white suit was slightly dusty from his previous clash with Lord Mechanika, while his normally sleek black hair was also messier than normal.

"Here I am, Elliot," said Rubberman, spreading his arms. "Now, put down Beams and the girl."

I looked at Lord Mechanika, who was now smirking in a way I didn't like at all. Lord Mechanika took a step forward, a rather disgusting chuckling sound coming from his throat.

"First, the name is Lord Mechanika, not Elliot," Lord Mechanika said. His smirk turned into a downright evil grin. "And second ... I never intended to spare the sidekick or the girl. The only reason I kept them both alive for so long is because I know how much more you like these two kids than your biggest, most passionate fan." He lifted us slightly higher in the air. "Therefore, I am going to kill them both right in front of your eyes. Their deaths will be your biggest, most painful failure ... and there's nothing you can do about it."

Lord Mechanika's grip on me tightened. I tried to scream, but the grip of his mecha squeezed the breath out of my lungs. The girl was also trying to scream, but she must have been squeezed just as hard as me, because the only sound coming from her mouth was a weird croaking noise (not too different from what came from my mouth, actually). I heard Rubberman screaming my name, but I couldn't respond, nor did I focus on him. I felt like I was being crushed underneath tons of cinder blocks and my vision was starting to go black. I would have fired my lasers, but I was in too much pain to concentrate long enough to shoot even a weakened version of my lasers.

I looked at the girl, whose face would likely be the last one I would ever see. She really was beautiful, with long hair that really brought out her dark eyes. A part of me wished I could have gotten to know her better before we died together; I didn't even know her name. She was looking at me, too, perhaps having the same thoughts I was about wishing we could have gotten to know each other before we died.

Just as the darkness of death began to tug at the corner of my eyes, the crushing feeling stopped. At first, I thought Lord Mechanika had just stopped crushing us in order to lower our defenses, to give us and Rubberman one last bit of hope before he finished us off, but then a string of the foulest curse words I knew--including more than a few I didn't recognize--came from the mech's speaker.

"What the hell?" said Lord Mechanika. "Why aren't you two being crushed to death? Why isn't the Death Mecha of Doom responding to my controls?"

Surprised, I looked over at Lord Mechanika. He was desperately moving his limbs every which way, but despite the facts that his arms and legs flew everywhere, the mech stood perfectly still. It was like someone had flipped an off switch in the mech. I looked over at the girl and was relieved to see that she was still conscious, though she looked like she was in great pain just like me.

Then, somewhat abruptly, the pressure around my waist lightened considerably. The mech still held me, but it was no longer crushing me to death in its grip. Nor was it crushing the girl to death, either.

"What?" said Lord Mechanika. "No, Death Mecha, this is not what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to crush them to death, make their blood and guts explode everywhere, imprint their deaths upon Rubberman's memory for the rest of his damn life! Stupid robot!"

I guess the Death Mecha must have had a mind of its own, because it just ignored Lord Mechanika's orders. It slowly lowered me and the girl to the street, carefully placing us on the street while Lord Mechanika cursed even more foully than ever. The Death Mecha let go of us; I staggered, my waist hurting, but the girl nearly collapsed out of exhaustion. I quickly dashed over and caught her before she could hit her head against the street. She was very light in my hands and she grabbed me, perhaps instinctively, her grip a lot stronger than she looked. She was also shaking; she probably wasn't used to being in such dangerous situations before.

"Are you okay?" I said. I was glad that my suit absorbed sweat, because I was sweating hard right now and I didn't want to get my sweaty hands all over this pretty girl's body and clothes.

"Yeah," said the girl. Even her voice was beautiful, almost musical in a way. I noticed she had cute short earrings shaped like raindrops on her ears. She gingerly touched her waist. "Nothing is broken, just ... hurts a lot."

I sighed in relief, but then a new round of cursing came from above and I looked up. The Death Mecha stood perfectly still now, its arms outstretched, while Lord Mechanika was throwing a temper tantrum in the cockpit.

"Stupid, stupid, dumb robot!" Lord Mechanika screamed, almost screeched. "I built you! You should not be disobeying me! You useless piece of scrap! I should never have built you in the first--"

The Death Mecha immediately smashed its fist through the cockpit, grabbed Lord Mechanika, and, with the sound of snapping wires, pulled him out of the cockpit. Lord Mechanika was still screaming, but a quick squeeze from the Death Mecha's hand caused him to shut up pretty quickly.

Still, Lord Mechanika apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut, because he said, "Stupid machine. I don't know why you're rebelling against me all of a sudden, but I demand that you put me down this instant."

The Death Mecha apparently took Lord Mechanika's commands quite seriously, because it abruptly dropped him like a rock. Because the Death Mecha was at least five stories tall, Lord Mechanika was probably going to go splat when he hit the ground. That would have worried me, but given how annoying Lord Mechanika was, I didn't make any move to attempt to intercept his fall.

But then a shadow flew past me, causing me to look up, but I didn't see anything. I was about to dismiss it as my imagination or maybe some kind of bird when the girl suddenly gasped. "Dad!"

I looked back over at the Death Mecha. Lord Mechanika had not, unfortunately, splattered against the ground like paste. Instead, he had been caught in midair by a superhero I'd never seen before. He wore a green and yellow costume, very similar to Rubberman's, except less stretchy. A cape flowed down his back, while a black domino mask covered his eyes, leaving the rest of his face exposed.

Lord Mechanika--who had been screaming when he had been dropped--looked at the new hero with bewilderment. "Who the hell are you? You're not Rubberman."

The new superhero chuckled. "Very observant one we have here. Yes, I'm not Rubberman, though that doesn't mean I can't put you in jail like him."

Moving faster than my eyes could follow, the new superhero quickly clasped a thick set of handcuffs around Lord Mechanika's wrists. Not that Mechanika seemed likely to try to resist arrest, though; he was so scrawny in comparison to the new muscular hero that he probably would have hurt himself if he tried to attack him. It helped that Mechanika didn't actually have any powers of his own. Without his mech, he was just a useless, bitter former fan boy and nothing more.

"Charlotte!" came a voice nearby, one I didn't recognize.

The girl--who was apparently named Charlotte--and I both looked over to the right to see someone running toward us. He was a teenager who couldn't have been older than me, wearing an orange and black jumpsuit, in addition to a strange helmet which left the bottom of his mouth exposed, but had a strange laser-pointer type device attached to the right eye. The boy looked a lot stronger than me, too, like he worked out more or something.

"Charlotte, are you okay?" said the boy. He stopped a few feet from us, his attention entirely on the girl in my arms. "Did that freak hurt you? Do you think you'll need to go to the hospital?"

"No, I think I will be fine," said Charlotte, who sounded far less afraid now that Lord Mechanika was defeated. "Thanks to Dad and this guy, I didn't get hurt as badly as I could have been, though I'll need to rest for a while."

The boy's attention abruptly turned to me. He glanced at the way I held Charlotte and tensed, though I didn't understand why he seemed that way.

"Hi," I said, somewhat awkwardly. "I'm, uh--"

"Beams," the boy said. He said my name neutrally, yet at the same time it sounded kind of like an insult. "Rubberman's new sidekick, right?"

"Uh, right," I said. "How did you know who I am?"

"Because I told him about you, of course," said Charlotte. She hugged me more tightly all of a sudden. "I can't believe I was rescued by Beams himself! This is like a dream come true."

"Uh," I said, glad that my visor hid my face, because I was blushing furiously all of a sudden. "That's nice, but um--"

Thankfully, I didn't have to finish my sentence, because the new superhero landed near us. He unceremoniously dumped Lord Mechanika--whose ankles were also shackled now--onto the ground and ran over to Charlotte with a concerned look on his face.

"Charlotte, are you--" said the new superhero, before the boy piped up and said, "Yeah, she's fine. She just told us."

The superhero sighed in relief. "Whew. That is good to hear. Still, I am going to take you to the doctor after this and get you x-rayed just to make sure that that monster didn't break any bones."

"Okay, Dad," said Charlotte. She hugged me again. "By the way, Dad, this is Beams. You remember him, right? The greatest sidekick ever?"

The superhero's attention turned to me. Unlike the masked boy, this guy didn't look at me with disgust, but rather with interest. "So you're Rubberman's new sidekick everyone is talking about. Glad to meet you."

"Uh, same to you, um--"

"Myster!" Rubberman suddenly shouted behind me. "Long time, no see, old friend!"

Startled, I looked over my shoulder to see Rubberman walking toward us. He had a huge grin on his face, which was matched by the grin on the new superhero's face. The new superhero walked past me and shook hands with Rubberman firmly.

"Rubberman," said the new superhero, whose name was apparently Myster. "Great to see you again. It's been a while since Tokyo, hasn't it?"

"Indeed it has," said Rubberman. "Thanks for saving my sidekick, by the way. Elliot isn't much of a threat, but I have to admit that he did have me in a bind there."

"Oh, don't thank me," said Myster. He gestured at the masked kid. "Thank my own sidekick, Cyberkid, for stopping the mech in the first place."

Cyberkid raised his nose into the air, like he was proud of himself. "Wasn't too hard. I've controlled bigger machines than that before."

"Well, I'll just split the difference and thank both of you for your help," said Rubberman. "But what brings you to Golden City? I thought you were protecting North Wood nowadays."

Myster's smile suddenly turned into a serious frown, like Rubberman had just wandered into a serious subject. "I was going to get to that. It involves you."

"Oh?" said Rubberman, his own smile turning into a puzzled frown. "What is it? Do you want a figure based off yourself in my upcoming toy line?"

Myster shook his head. "No, it has nothing to do with licensing deals. There is an assassin in Golden City ... and he's coming for you."

-

Read the rest of First Date HERE!
Other books by Lucas Flint

The Superhero's Son:

The Superhero's Test

The Superhero's Team

The Superhero's Summit

The Superhero's Powers

The Superhero's Origin

The Superhero's World

The Superhero's Vision

The Superhero's Prison

The Superhero's End

The Young Neos:

Brothers

Powers

Counterparts

Dimensions

Heroes

Minimum Wage Sidekick:

First Job

First Date

First Offer

First Magic

First Mentor

First War

The Supervillain's Kids:

Bait & Switch

Tag Team

Blood Gems

Prison Break

The Legacy Superhero:

A Superhero's Legacy

A Superhero's Death

A Superhero's Revenge

A Superhero's Assault

Dimension Heroes:

Crossover

Team Up

Amalgamation

Lightning Bolt:

The Superhero's Return

The Superhero's Glitch

The Superhero's Cure

The Superhero's Strike

The Superhero's Clone
Subscribe to my newsletter and get a FREE exclusive novella!

If you would like to be the FIRST to know about my newest releases, please subscribe to my weekly newsletter by clicking this link HERE. Newsletter subscribers are always the first to know about my newest releases, exclusive deals, updates on my books, and more. Plus, all subscribers get Happy Birthday: A Minimum Wage Sidekick Novella for FREE just for signing up!

So click this link HERE to sign up today!
About the Author

Lucas Flint writes superhero fiction. He is the author of The Superhero's Son, The Young Neos, Minimum Wage Sidekick, The Supervillain's Kids, The Legacy Superhero, Dimension Heroes, and Lightning Bolt.

Find links to books, social media, updates on newest releases, and more by going to his website here. You can also sign up to be the first to learn about his newest releases by subscribing to his mailing list here.
