by Lucas Flint
“There,” said Rubberman. “Try anything, thief, and I’ll break every bone in your body. And I’m not bluffing. Just ask the last guy who tried to steal from Sasha. He’s still in the hospital … three years later.”
Bolt gritted his teeth. He could probably gather enough strength to break free of Rubberman’s arms, but Takeshi was the real threat here. Takeshi had Shade as his prisoner and could kill her at any moment. Based on the mercilessness in Takeshi’s eyes, Bolt could tell that Takeshi was perfectly willing to kill Shade if Bolt kept fighting.
I wonder who is more ruthless, Bolt thought, Takeshi or Sasha?
Shaking his head, Bolt decided another plan of action was necessary if he and Shade were going to get out of here alive. He looked over his shoulder at Rubberman and said, “Rubberman, you don’t need to do this.”
Rubberman frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean all of this,” said Bolt, gesturing with his head at the scene in the room. “Acting as Sasha’s private bodyguard. You’re better than this.”
Rubberman hesitated. “I work for Sasha. She owns the Rubberman brand and business. That means she can tell me what to do.”
“But I can tell you don’t like it,” said Bolt. He was finding it hard to breathe; perhaps Rubberman was increasing the pressure on his body. “You don’t want to keep working for her, doing her dirty work like some kind of minion. You want to be free to run your own business again and protect Golden City.”
Bolt could tell he got to Rubberman because Rubberman hesitated again.
“Dennis,” said Takeshi sharply. “Do not let the thief break into your mind with his words. He’s trying to manipulate you.”
“Like Sasha,” said Bolt. He grinned up at Rubberman. “Right, Rubberman? Just like how Sasha manipulated you into selling your business to her.”
Rubberman’s eyes widened. “How did you know—”
“I don’t,” Bolt admitted. “But I’ve met a guy like Sasha before. Like her, he could come across as a warm, kindhearted individual, but he wore a mask just like any other supervillain, and once you took that mask off … you saw the monster within.”
Rubberman looked away. “I already know what Sasha’s character is. But the law is the law. I’m in no position to disobey Sasha just because I may not like her as a person or because she tricked me into selling my business to her.”
“Maybe the law is the law, but that doesn’t mean you have to play her games,” said Bolt. “In my adventures across the multiverse, I met your sidekick.”
“Sidekick?” Rubberman repeated. He scowled. “I already told you, I don’t have a—”
“Not in this universe, maybe,” said Bolt, “but in another universe, another version of you does. And you know what he’s like, Rubberman? He’s a hero. A real hero, who doesn’t let his own fears get in the way of doing the right thing. He didn’t tell me much about you, but I figured that if he’s that a good a hero, he must have learned it from someone else. Might want to guess who that is?”
Rubberman gulped. “Me?”
“Yeah,” said Bolt, nodding again. “He probably learned what it meant to be a real hero from you. Or, rather, a you who isn’t a coward.”
Rubberman’s arms suddenly constricted around his body. “Take that back, thief.”
Bolt found it harder to breathe than ever, but he said, “N-No. You want me to respect you, act respectable, dang it. Act like a real hero. Stop letting Sasha boss you around and do her illegal dirty work just because you’re afraid of losing your job.”
“But—”
“I don’t know a lot about how superheroes work in your universe,” Bolt admitted. “I don’t like the idea of being a superhero for profit or the idea of massive corporations buying and selling superheroes like property. But I’ve seen real heroes come from your universe or at least a universe like your own, so I know they can exist. I just don’t know if you are one of those real heroes or not.”
Rubberman seemed at a loss for words. He looked at his feet, though whether it was because he was ashamed of himself or because he was still trying to process what Bolt said, Bolt didn’t know. What Bolt did know was that Rubberman’s arms were constricting around his body and that soon he would be completely unable to breathe.
A harsh laugh came from before him. Raising his head, Bolt saw Takeshi was chuckling, which seemed deeply out of character for the silent ninja.
“What a pathetic boy,” said Takeshi. “You clearly must be from another universe if you think you can break us just by talking. Your speech, though beautiful and inspiring, means nothing in a world where money rules. Rubberman and I serve Sasha. We do what she says. Your talk about ‘real’ heroes is as irrelevant to your current situation as discussing the biology of unicorns.”
Bolt gritted his teeth. He would have responded to that, but Rubberman’s arms had tightened to the point where he couldn’t even speak.
“In any case, your pleas fall on deaf ears,” said Takeshi. “Rubberman, take out the boy. I will finish the girl and then we will report to Sasha on the success of our mission.”
Dang it. Bolt’s plan didn’t work. He knew that this Rubberman wasn’t exactly the same Rubberman that Beams worked for, but he hoped there was enough similarity between the two that his little speech about doing the right thing would appeal to this Rubberman’s sense of justice.
But maybe Takeshi is right, Bolt thought. Maybe in this universe, heroes are just slaves to their corporate masters and have no independence and just do what they’re told. What an awful universe to live in.
Suddenly, Bolt felt Rubberman’s arms loosen around his form. Slowly but surely, the arms unwrapped around his body, snapping back to Rubberman’s normal length. Now able to breathe clearly again, Bolt looked over his shoulder at Rubberman.
Rubberman was still looking at his feet, but there was something different about him now. He didn’t seem as scared anymore. He was shaking, shaking with anger, but Bolt could sense that Rubberman was not angry at him.
“Dennis?” said Takeshi, staring at Rubberman with a questioning glare. “Why did you let go of the boy? He is still a thief who deserves death. Do you plan to kill him another way?”
“No,” said Rubberman. He looked up at Takeshi. “I’m not killing him or the girl, because as of this moment, I’m done working for Sasha. I quit. And I’m not your coworker anymore.”
Without warning, Rubberman extended his arm toward Takeshi, wrapping it around Takeshi’s neck. Takeshi gasped before Rubberman whirled around and hurled him through the open balcony doors on the other side of the room. Bolt got one last look at Takeshi’s flailing form before he vanished somewhere beyond the mansion walls with an audible crash.
Rubberman retracted his arm back to his normal length and turned around to face Bolt and Shade. Bolt was already rising back to his feet, dusting off his costume and watching Rubberman. He was surprised by Rubberman’s actions, but at the same time, he half-wondered if this was some sort of trick that Rubberman was doing to make him lower his guard.
“So …” Bolt’s words trailed off. “That was surprising.”
Rubberman shrugged. “What can I say? There was—is—a lot of truth to your words. I’ve never liked Takeshi anyway, so getting a chance to throw him out the window like that was fun.”
“But what about Sasha?” said Bolt. “Are you really done working for her?”
Rubberman nodded. “Yes. And I’m not just done working for her. I’m going to tell the police about all of the crimes she’s committed, too.”
Bolt raised an eyebrow. “Even if that gets you into trouble, too?”
“Yes,” said Rubberman. “I don’t want to go to jail or have my superhero license revoked, but I also don’t want to see evil women like Sasha walk free. If I have to go to jail with her because I was an accomplice to many of her crimes, then so be it.”
Bolt nodded, though deep down he couldn’t help but admire Rubberman. He’d thought that Rubbe
rman was just a coward, but it was clear to him that this Rubberman was every bit the hero Beams’ Rubberman likely was. He now understood where Beams’ own courage and sense of justice came from.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a doorknob turning. He looked over to the room’s door as it opened and Sasha Munroe stepped inside. She paused when she saw them, her eyes darting from the unconscious Shade on the floor to Bolt to Rubberman and back again. She carried a slim black laptop under her right arm, which Bolt realized was the laptop that they had come here to steal.
“I thought I heard fighting up here,” said Sasha slowly. “Rubberman, have you managed to defeat these two? And where is Takeshi?”
Rubberman pointed at the balcony. “Takeshi is somewhere out there, probably with a broken back. As for these two … beat them yourself.”
Sasha whipped her head toward Rubberman. “What did you say?”
“I said, beat them yourself if you are so concerned about intruders,” said Rubberman. He folded his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not my boss anymore, so I don’t have to do anything you say. In other words, I quit.”
Sasha was very silent for what seemed like an eternity. Bolt found it eerie how she could so easily hide her emotions and thoughts behind her face. It was almost like she wore a mask over her face, one that looked human, but wasn’t. He wondered if she had some kind of mental illness or if she was just really that evil.
Finally, Sasha said, “I accept your resignation, Dennis. You are free to seek employment elsewhere.”
Rubberman blinked. “What? That’s … that’s it?”
“Yes,” said Sasha. “Why do you seem so surprised? If you don’t want to work for me anymore, you don’t have to.”
Bolt was just as surprised as Rubberman. He was sure that Sasha would have raged at Rubberman, but perhaps she was smart enough to realize that threatening Rubberman was about as effective as a puppy yapping at a grizzly bear.
Guess she’s smarter than I thought, Bolt thought.
“So … I guess I’ll be leaving now, then,” said Rubberman.
Sasha’s expression suddenly turned into a chilling smile. “I said you could quit. I didn’t say you could leave … alive, anyway.”
Sasha suddenly thrust her hand into the breast pocket of her pantsuit and pulled out what looked like a small piece of pink bubblegum. Bolt half-expected her to stick the gum into her mouth and start blowing bubbles, so he looked at Rubberman to see if he was just as mystified by Sasha’s apparent appetite for gum as he was.
But Rubberman had taken a step back. He was staring at the bubblegum as if Sasha had just pulled out a gun and was threatening to shoot him with it.
“Where did you get that?” said Rubberman. His voice was heavy and urgent, the exact same tone a person would use if they asked someone where they got that bomb.
“So you do recognize it,” said Sasha. Her smile became far eviler. “Wonderful. It means you know why you are going to die tonight.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A hand suddenly fell on Beams’ shoulder, nearly making Beams jump into the air. But the hand which fell on his shoulder was firm and thick, reminding Beams of the hand of a man who had done construction all his life. He looked over his shoulder to see who it was.
The man standing behind Beams was someone he did not recognize. He was tall and powerfully built, with the physique of those old Greek statues Beams had once seen on a school field trip to the museum. His short, dark hair and bronze skin, however, made him look less Greek and more … well, Beams couldn’t place his race. He supposed it was irrelevant because the man standing behind him wore nothing but a simple loincloth around his waist and carried a huge, gold and crystal sword sheathed at his side.
The man had muscles as big as boulders and he looked like he could probably crush boulders with his hands alone. His eyes were alert and full of life, yet there was something distant about him like Beams was looking at a picture that had been taken decades ago. The man smelled of dirt and sweat and, perhaps most disturbingly, blood.
A grunt from the Avatar made Beams look back. The Avatar had drawn his own sword, but for the first time since Beams had seen the Avatar, the Avatar looked genuinely afraid.
“You,” said the Avatar. “Who are you? And where did you come from?”
“Your god knows me,” said the man. His voice was deep and booming, but it didn’t scare Beams at all. “Knows me … and fears me.”
“Impossible,” said the Avatar, though there was doubt in his voice at his own words. “The Dread God doesn’t fear anything, much less a human like yourself.”
“Then your god is a fool,” said the man, “but let him remain one. Foolhardiness is what led to his first downfall. And it is what will cause his second downfall as well.”
The Avatar’s eyes widened. “You cannot be who I think you are.”
“Know that I am not,” said the man, “but I am an echo, whose life flows through the blood of one of my descendants. That is to say, this boy.”
The man’s grip on Beams’ shoulder tightened, but it was more of a comforting grip than a scary one.
“Your descendant?” said Beams. “Am I descended from you?”
“Yes,” said the man. “Through you flows the blood of the Dread God’s worst enemy, the one who slew him in the first place. You are speaking to him now.”
“The God Slayer …” the Avatar said in a hushed tone. “Impossible …”
Beams gaped. “The God Slayer? No way.”
“Yes,” said the God Slayer. “Countless ages ago, I rose up and slew the Dread God with a sword from the other gods who opposed him. I sealed his body beneath a mountain of ice and drove his vile worshipers off our world. Then I died, peacefully and surrounded by my many children, and have been dead ever since.”
“Then … how am I talking to you?” said Beams. “I’m not going crazy, am I?”
“There has always been a link between our people and the Dread God,” said the God Slayer. “By entering the Dread Realm, your ancestry has awakened in your bloodstream. For the first time in ages, I am alive again, and I am going to protect my descendant from becoming a tool of my enemy.”
Beams was so taken aback by this revelation that he was literally at a loss for words. He could only stare up uncomprehendingly at the God Slayer, who showed not a hint of fear anywhere in his manly facial features. But he knew that the God Slayer, though fearless himself, must appear terrifying to anyone else, particularly to the Dread God and his worshipers.
A hiss made Beams look back at the Avatar. The Avatar looked torn between running away and running forward and fighting the God Slayer. Beams suspected that the Avatar would lose badly against the God Slayer, but he didn’t say anything and just carefully watched the Avatar’s every movement.
“What an … interesting turn of events,” said the Avatar, anger barely hidden under his calm words. “I have heard many legends about the God Slayer my whole life. I never thought I would get the opportunity to meet him myself, however.”
“I certainly hope you have not wished to meet me, Avatar,” said the God Slayer, “because if you have, then you are about to be sorely disappointed because I have no love in my heart for anyone who serves the Dread God willingly.”
“I don’t need your love or sympathy,” said the Avatar. He raised his sword. “You died once. I will simply kill you again.”
The Avatar rushed forward and brought his sword down on Beams and the God Slayer. But the God Slayer was faster, drawing his sword from his sheath and holding it up to block the Avatar’s attack at the last possible moment.
The God Slayer’s sword crackled with energy upon contact with the Avatar’s sword. The Avatar’s eyes widened in shock again, because despite how much effort he was putting into bringing his blade down on the God Slayer, the God Slayer’s arm didn’t even budge.
“Foolish Avatar,” said the God Slayer, without a hint of strain in his voice. “Do you honestly be
lieve you can harm me here? I have already passed long ago. Even the Dread God cannot kill a man twice. So long as the blood of my descendants exists, I will always live, no matter what.”
Then the God Slayer’s eyes narrowed. “Now let me show you the true power of the God Slayer!”
With a roar, the God Slayer shoved the Avatar backward. The Avatar suddenly went flying backward and exploded into empty mist as soon as he hit the wall on the other side of the room. The mist hung in the air briefly before it slipped through a crack in the door frame and vanished.
Beams blinked. “Did you just kill the Avatar?”
“He’s not dead,” said the God Slayer, lowering his sword and taking his hand off of Beams’ shoulder. “I simply banished him from the Dread Realm. He is likely in a great deal of pain and probably humiliated beyond belief as well.”
Beams turned to face the God Slayer, looking up into his chiseled face with awe. “Thank you, God Slayer. I’m glad you’re my ancestor because I don’t think I would have been able to resist the Avatar’s offer any longer.”
The God Slayer knelt before Beams, making their faces level. He put a hand on Beams’ shoulder again and said, “It is nothing, my descendant. Though I am dead and unable to interact with the world of the living any longer, I still watch over my descendants and their world.”
“Is that why the Dread God chose me?” said Beams, putting a hand on his chest. “Because I am one of your descendants?”
“Yes,” said the God Slayer, nodding. “He knows how much of a threat you, and the other one named Bolt, are. Therefore, he sought to separate you and put both of you under pressures you cannot handle in order to break you. The Dread God has done this sort of thing before. It is one of his favorite techniques to deal with his enemies.”
“Bolt?” Beams repeated. “What’s so special about him?”
“I cannot say for certain,” said the God Slayer. “I know only that if you wish to defeat the Dread God, you will need his help as well. Without him, your chances of defeating the Dread God are slim.”
“You mean nonexistent.”
