First Magic (Minimum Wage Sidekick Book 4)

by Lucas Flint

  “Hey, Rubberman, where are you going?” I asked, watching as he walked up the stairs faster than I’d ever seen him walk before.

  Rubberman stopped and looked down at me in annoyance. “Trying to get to safety, obviously. And you should come with me, too, because I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  Blinking in surprise, I nonetheless ran over to the stairs and began walking up them as quickly as I could, although I wasn’t as fast as Rubberman. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid that the Superhero Killer is going to get into the Elastic Cave?”

  “Yes,” came Rubberman’s annoyed-sounding reply, which came from the top of the stairs where Rubberman now stood. “I’m her next target now. I know it.”

  “’Her’?” I repeated as I climbed the steps. “How do you know that the Superhero Killer is a girl?”

  “Because of that damn note,” Rubberman replied as he hit the up arrow button on the elevator’s control panel. “Because now everything is starting to make sense to me.”

  Panting slightly, I reached the top of the stairs just as the elevator doors opened and Rubberman stepped in. I rushed in after him and entered just in the nick of time, because the elevator doors closed right after I stepped through the threshold and soon we were ascending to Level One. Rubberman began tapping the floor rather impatiently, however, like he thought we were going too slowly or something.

  “Back there,” I said, looking at Rubberman again, who was looking at the elevator’s display as if he could force it to change from sheer force of will alone, “you said ‘everything is starting to make sense to me.’ What did you mean by that?”

  “I meant what I said: Everything is starting to make sense to me. I now know who the Superhero Killer is and what she wants.”

  I frowned. “You got all of that just from a short, four word note? Wow, you’re smarter than I thought.”

  “It’s more than just that note,” said Rubberman without looking at me. “It’s the way it was written. The way the note uses my name …” He shuddered. “I can’t stand it.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “What do you mean? I know the Superhero Killer is scary and all, but this seems a little out of character for you.”

  “You’d act the same way if you knew what I knew,” said Rubberman. He looked down at me, dread etched on his features. “Or, rather, if you knew who I knew.”

  The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Even before the doors fully opened, Rubberman stepped out, bunching his body together to make it easier to slip through the not fully opened doors. I, on the other hand, had to wait until the doors were opened before I could follow him out onto Level One, where Adams was sitting at Mission Control tapping keys and clicking things on the computer screen.

  “Adams, how are the security measures coming along?” asked Rubberman as we approached him.

  “Very well, sir,” said Adams, giving us the thumbs up without looking over his shoulder. “So far, I’ve not found any major security breaches which possible enemies could take advantage of.”

  “Excellent,” said Rubberman. “If you do, fix them immediately. If that woman tries to get me, she’ll be in for a nasty surprise.”

  Rubberman suddenly walked toward his office. I followed as closely as I could, though Rubberman was a lot faster than me, helped by the fact that he had longer legs than I did.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To my office. I am going to brainstorm a plan to find the Superhero Killer. Not that it will be very difficult, because it is pretty obvious that I am going to be her next victim, but it’s always better to be proactive than reactive, whether in business or in life in general.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said as I followed Rubberman into his office. “But do you mind telling me who you think the Superhero Killer is? You still haven’t told me your suspicions.”

  Rubberman sat down behind his desk and leaned back. He suddenly looked a lot older than thirty, as if he had aged about ten years in as many seconds. “I believe that the Superhero Killer is my ex-wife.”

  “Your … ex-wife?” I asked. “Did I hear that right?”

  “Yes, you did,” said Rubberman, nodding. He picked up the Rubberman-branded fidget spinner, which he started spinning in his hands nervously. “She’s after me. I know she is.”

  I frowned again. Rubberman’s instincts were usually right, but I remembered how Barriers had told me that Rubberman had a tendency toward paranoia. Granted, Barriers had turned out to be one of the biggest liars I’d ever met, but I have to admit that I think that he wasn’t entirely off the mark about Rubberman’s paranoid tendencies. I’d have to be careful, because I didn’t want Rubberman to start shouting at me.

  “You haven’t mentioned her much.”

  “I don’t like talking about her.” Rubberman grimaced. “For obvious reasons.”

  “Yeah, I understand. My brother James has a crazy ex-girlfriend he doesn’t like talking about, either, though I don’t know if that’s the same thing or not.”

  “It’s close enough, though in my experience, ex-wives are crazier than ex-girlfriends.”

  I took my usual seat on the chair in front of the desk and leaned forward. “Why do you think she wants to kill you? Was your divorce really that nasty?”

  Rubberman kept spinning the fidget spinner, which seemed like an unconscious habit to me. “Partly, but also because she’s a supervillain.”

  My eyes widened. “What?”

  “Again, you heard that right,” said Rubberman. “I know, it’s kind of ironic that a superhero has a supervillain ex-wife, but that’s just how life rolls sometimes.”

  My brain was still trying to process this revelation, yet I somehow managed to say, “Have I heard of her before?”

  “You might have,” said Rubberman. “She goes by the alias of the Necromantress.”

  “And what does she do?” I asked.

  “She reanimates corpses and uses them to commit crimes,” said Rubberman bluntly. “Zombies, in other words.”

  My eyes widened so much that they felt like they were about to fall out of their sockets. “Literal zombies? You’re joking, right?”

  “No,” said Rubberman. “Why is that so hard for you to believe? I can stretch my body like rubber, but you find zombies unbelievable.”

  “It’s just …” I shook my head. “You’re still a living human being, you know? You aren’t, like, a reanimated corpse or anything like that.”

  “And you can shoot lasers from your eyes without going blind,” Rubberman said. “When you’ve been in this business long enough, you eventually stop getting so shocked about everything. Trust me, I’ve seen villains, and even heroes, with way weirder powers than what she has.”

  I bit my lower lip. “Yeah, but … how does she even do that?”

  “Black magic,” said Rubberman. “Duh.”

  “Black magic,” I repeated. “Really.”

  “Really,” Rubberman confirmed. “I don’t quite understand it myself, but I know that she can cast spells that reanimate corpses, turn them into her puppets. It’s quite terrifying, to be honest.”

  “I … didn’t know that black magic actually worked.”

  “Neither did I, but I suppose that if you’re bitter enough about your ex, you can make anything work.”

  That seemed kind of like bull to me, but Rubberman appeared to be entirely serious about his ex, so I said, “How come she hasn’t shown up in Golden City recently? If she hates you so much, what took her so long to get here?”

  “She was in jail for the last few years,” said Rubberman. “I beat her pretty early on in my superhero career, shortly after our divorce. She was sentenced to life in prison, but recently broke out. Here’s an article from one of the major newspapers about it.”

  Rubberman clicked his mouse a few times before turning his computer monitor toward me. I read the headline:

  SHAWNA ‘NECROMANTRESS’ KENNETH SENTENCED TO LIFE IN PRISON

 
; Between the headline and the actual article itself was a mugshot of the Necromantress herself. She was pretty, with long, dark hair, although her eyes appeared sunken and she was scowling at the camera. That was probably because she was going to jail, though I sensed that she always looked unhappy.

  I looked at Rubberman. “But you said she broke out.”

  “Yep,” said Rubberman, nodding as he turned the monitor back to himself. “From what I’ve been able to gather, she murdered one of her fellow inmates and used his corpse to escape. No one knows where she currently is, but I would not put it past her to come after me.”

  “But how could she be the Superhero Killer?” I asked. “Of course, no one has ever actually seen the Superhero Killer, but we do know that he has wings and can fly. Can the Necromantress fly?”

  “No,” said Rubberman. “But how do we know she isn’t working with someone else? I could easily see Shawna convincing someone to work with her, possibly another supervillain who has a grudge against me. She’s not very brave, which is why she usually works through her zombie minions to achieve her goals.”

  I folded my arms in front of my chest. “Okay, but why did you two get a divorce in the first place? What went wrong?”

  “She wanted money, plain and simple,” said Rubberman. “We got married shortly before my career took off. Once it did, she wanted a divorce in order to get alimony from me. Thankfully, I managed to convince the courts that she didn’t actually need the alimony, because she didn’t have any children, which basically left her penniless. So she became a supervillain to get revenge on me for ‘ruining’ her life.”

  “Wow. That’s kind of petty.”

  “She’s a petty kind of woman.” Rubberman sighed. “As a general rule, Alex, if you ever find yourself dating a woman who is more interested in talking about money than about you, that’s a good sign that you should dump her as soon as possible.”

  I nodded, although I didn’t really understand. I was thinking of Greta, not because she was a gold digger, but because she was so much nicer than the Necromantress. I didn’t know if I would ever marry Greta or not, but at the very least, I doubted she would try to screw me out of my money, even though she was a literal thief. Then again, I wasn’t exactly rich, which would probably keep any gold diggers away from me.

  “Yeah, I see,” I said. “What are you going to do about her?”

  “Ensure that the Elastic Cave’s security systems are up to date and have no exploitable holes, for one, like what Adams is doing right now,” said Rubberman. “And come up with a plan to draw her out of hiding. I know her pretty well, so I don’t think it should be difficult to manipulate her and make her show herself.”

  “Are you going to stay in the Elastic Cave until the police catch the Superhero Killer?” I asked. “Like how I stayed in here until ZZZ was caught?”

  Rubberman shook his head. “Of course not. I’m still Golden City’s superhero, so that means I need to go out and protect the streets. Besides, the police won’t be able to catch Shawna, at least not without my help. I will just have to be careful when I’m out on the streets and keep an eye out for her zombies.”

  “She wouldn’t sic zombies after you in broad daylight, would she?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

  “Well, what should I do in the meantime?”

  “Keep doing what you’re doing,” said Rubberman. “Come to work every day, but you should also be careful. While I don’t think Shawna knows who you are, I know she is willing to do anything to get at me, up to and including harming children and teenagers. Don’t let your guard down until you’re safely in the Elastic Cave, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. I suddenly looked up at the Rubberman clock on the left wall. “Oh, it looks like it’s almost time for me to go home. Is there anything else we need to talk about before I clock out?”

  “No, I think we’ve covered everything worth covering,” said Rubberman. “You can go home to have dinner with your family. Adams and I will still be here reinforcing the Cave’s security measures, so you don’t need to worry about us. Just make sure to come back to the Cave at your usual time after school tomorrow, okay? We’re still cleaning the Cave and I have a lot more work for you to do in that particular area.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  I rose from my chair and left the office. As I walked, I couldn’t help but wonder if Rubberman was right about his ex-wife being the Superhero Killer or not. His reasoning made sense, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel like we were overlooking some important details, as if there was much more to this situation than met the eye. Then again, maybe some of Rubberman’s paranoia was starting to rub off on me.

  In any case, I was glad that I was doing spring cleaning work this week, because I didn’t relish the idea of having to fight zombies in the streets of Golden City.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At school the next day, I sat down in the cafeteria with Frank and Greta at our usual table, my stomach growling because I’d only had a protein bar for breakfast earlier due to the fact that I’d slept in and had to rush out the door to get to school on time. The cafeteria was as loud and noisy as usual, with kids chattering all around us, but I paid no attention to any of it. I just stuffed my face with my ham sandwich as Frank went on about how the Beams Fan Club was growing and he was starting to look for a new location for the group to meet, because the group currently met in the school library but was rapidly starting to outgrow it and would soon need a larger space in which to meet.

  “Wow,” I said, lowering my half-eaten sandwich onto my tray. “I didn’t know the Beams Fan Club was so popular.”

  “It’s not the fan club,” Frank said, who sat opposite me and held his soda can in his right hand. “It’s Beams. He’s more popular than ever, especially after stopping that Barriers guy. I’m having trouble meeting the demand for Beams Fan Club pins like the one I’m wearing here. See?”

  Frank gestured at a small pin on his red shirt. It had a stylized version of my helmet with the words ‘UNOFFICIAL BEAMS FAN CLUB’ written underneath it in large, bold letters. I’d noticed lots of students wearing that pin around school recently, although if what Frank said was true, there were even more students who didn’t even wear their pins all the time.

  “It’s pretty neat,” said Greta, who sat next to me. She was eating a slice of pizza she’d gotten from the cafeteria, though she had only taken a couple of bites so far. “Did you make it yourself?”

  “Yep,” said Frank, swelling his chest to make it easier for Greta to see his pin. “I’m getting really good at graphic design. It’s a lot of fun.”

  But then Frank looked at me and frowned. “Alex, when are you going to join the Beams Fan Club? Don’t you and Greta want to wear these awesome pins, too?”

  I was glad I had chosen that moment to take another bite from my sandwich, because I really didn’t want to answer that question right away. It was a question that Frank had asked me loads of times already, but every time I’d said no. That was because I thought it would be kind of weird to be a member of a fan club devoted to me. I probably wasn’t the humblest guy around, but my ego wasn’t that big.

  Of course, Frank had no idea that I was Beams, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for why I didn’t join his club. So I said, after swallowing the ham sandwich, “Frank, I’d love to join, but I’m just so busy. What with going to the gym, taking driving lessons, school work, going out with Greta … I just don’t have time to devote to your fan club. You know that.”

  “You always make time for the things that matter to you,” said Frank. “That’s what my dad always says. I’m sure you could figure out a way to squeeze the fan club into your busy schedule. We’ve got a group on Facebook that you could hang out on if you can’t make it to the physical meetings.”

  I nearly dropped my sandwich. “Wait, your group has a Facebook group?”

  “Sure,” said Frank. “Didn’t I tell you that? Let me show you i
t on my phone.”

  Frank pulled out his phone, swiped across the screen a couple of times, and then held it out to me. I took his phone and looked at the page it displayed. It was indeed a private group for members of the Beams Fan Club, complete with a banner proudly identifying it at the top. Off to the side, the list of members displayed Frank and several other students I recognized, along with the number of members in the group.

  I looked up at Frank in disbelief. “Your group has over one hundred members already?”

  “Yeah!” said Frank as he took back his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “And not all of them are students here at the school, either. Some of them are students from other schools in the area. Beams is a pretty popular sidekick.”

  I was about to say that I didn’t know that I was that popular, but I caught myself before I accidentally revealed my secret identity. I just said, “That’s really great, Frank. Looks like you’ve started something that is going to be very popular.”

  “I know,” said Frank with a sigh. “I’ve never had so many people pay attention to me before in my life. Even some of the popular girls have come to me for some of these pins. It’s insane. I can barely believe it.”

  “Got any plans to expand it?” asked Greta as she sipped her soda. “I know you’re looking for a new meeting location, but do you have any other plans for it other than that?”

  Frank began tracing circles in his spaghetti noodles with his fork. “That’s what I’ve been struggling with. I want to do something really cool for everyone, but I just don’t know what. Our meetings have mostly been about talking about what Beams has been up to this week, who he really is, and whether he could beat up other sidekicks in a fight or not. Everyone’s had a great time, but I really want to do something special, something that will really make it stand out.”

  Frank stopped tracing his spaghetti and looked at me and Greta seriously. “Something like interviewing Beams himself. Everyone would love that, because no one in the group has actually ever met Beams, and even the big news organizations haven’t gotten a full interview with him yet. But that’s not very likely to happen, because I doubt that someone as important and popular as Beams would ever take time out of his day to talk with a random fan club at a school like this.”