by Lucas Flint
“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. H
e 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.”
