CHAPTER TWO
I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there on my bike, staring at the handlebar, which was barely visible through my cracked and scratched up glasses. I didn’t cry; I may not have been as strong as my older brother James, but I knew better than to cry about my problems. Still, I was definitely devastated and too stunned to know what to do.
Should I just go home and tell Mom and Dad that I was fired before I even started? Mom would probably be upset, while Dad would be relieved, given that he doesn’t think much about superheroes. But I didn’t want to face either of their reactions. And then there was James; he was visiting home from college this week and I didn’t want to suffer his teasing for failing so epically. Then again, I still gave him grief over how he quit his job as a sidekick so quickly when he was younger, so I would probably deserve it.
I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. I had Rubberman’s number; of course, it was labeled ‘BOSS’ so no one looking through my contacts would suspect that I was his sidekick. I considered calling Rubberman to let him know that I was late, but I was too afraid of angering him to do it. I just stared at his number for what felt like an eternity before I put the phone back into my pocket, grabbed my bike’s handlebar, and turned it around. I would just go home, maybe grab a bite to eat at that cafe on the way there, and tell my parents about my failure. It was pretty clear that I had messed up beyond belief now. I would just spend the rest of the day playing video games or something. Or maybe just curled up under my covers hoping to die a peaceful death so I wouldn’t have to go to school on Monday and see Greta, who no doubt thought I was an i***t now. If Rubberman was going to fire me, he could just call me or something.
Sighing, I put my foot on the pedal before an aged voice behind me said, “Are you Alex Fry?”
I froze in my seat and looked over my shoulder. Standing in front of the grocery store was an elderly man who was probably in his late sixties. He had perfectly combed back white hair and wore a black tuxedo that made him look completely out of place in this abandoned alleyway. Even though he was old, he had great posture; he stood as upright as a board, his old brown eyes looking down at me with impatience.
I took my foot off the pedal and, turning my bike around again, said, “Yes, that’s me. Who are you?”
“Adams,” said the old man. He had a light Scottish accent. “I am the butler of Mr. Dennis Pullman, also known as Rubberman, and I am the representative that he sent to find a Mr. Alex Fry, who is starting work for him as his sidekick today.” Adams held out a hand. “May I see your sidekick license in order to confirm your identity?”
I just sat there on my bike, staring at Adams in shock. “But I’m late.”
“Yes, but only by about a minute,” said Adams. He didn’t lower his hand. “Now, will you show me your license or not?”
Flabbergasted, I nonetheless pulled my license out of my pocket and handed it to him. Adams took the license, glanced at it, and then pulled out a small card reader from his pocket. He stuck the top end of my card into the reader, which then made a small ‘beep,’ causing him to pull out my card and look at the display. Then he nodded once and handed me my card back.
“The scanner has confirmed that your card is real,” said Adams. He turned around. “Please come with me, Mr. Fry. Mr. Pullman is a very busy man and would like to get you acquainted with his business and base as quickly as possible so you can get started working for him.”
“Yeah, but my bike—”
“Will be safe inside the grocery store,” said Adams. “Mr. Pullman bought this property and installed advanced security systems in it, so you need not worry about vagrants, thieves, or supervillains breaking in and stealing your bicycle while you leave it unattended.”
Not sure what else to say to that, I followed Adams into the store. Directly to the right of the entrance was a bike rack, which I put my bike in. I also chained it up, but I sensed that there were other security measures around the bike that were more advanced than a mere chain. But I didn’t ask Adams about them; I had a feeling they were supposed to be top secret. I also put my helmet on the bike, because I didn’t think I would need it where I was going.
As for the grocery store itself, it certainly didn’t look like an abandoned store on the inside. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in metal plating, which gave it a clean, modern look that was a pretty sharp contrast to the grungy, abandoned exterior. It was just one room, too, with no other doors leading into or out of the place. I glanced over my shoulder to see out the window, but was surprised to see that it was just a solid wall.
I looked at Adams, who stood in the center of the room looking as dignified as always. “What happened to the window?”
“It’s not there,” said Adams. “The window you saw on the outside is merely a projection; in fact, the entire front exterior is nothing more than a holographic projection designed by Holo Industries. It is meant to keep people from noticing what it really is and investigating.”
“What is it, really?” I said.
“The entrance to Rubberman’s base of operations, of course,” said Adams. “He calls it the Elastic Cave.”
“Elastic Cave?” I said. “That’s kind of cheesy.”
“I expressed the same sentiments to Mr. Pullman when he first built it, but he assured me that it is part of his ‘brand’ to have everything rubber-themed,” said Adams. “Anyway, come over here and stand next to me. We will take an elevator down to the Elastic Cave, where Mr. Pullman is currently working. But do not worry; he will be more than happy to take time out of his work day to meet you.”
“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.