by Lucas Flint
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 coup
le 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.
