by Lucas Flint
“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 pa
rt-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.”
