Sam Carter’s dorm room was the kind of space that could double as a before-picture for an organizational overhaul. It wasn’t that he was messy, exactly. It was more like he’d developed a unique filing system based on proximity to his bed. Dirty laundry? Floor, to the left. Textbooks he might one day open? Desk, to the right. His wallet, keys, and dignity? Anyone’s guess.
He was currently hunched over his laptop, cradling a mug of questionable coffee, staring at the email subject line that haunted his every waking hour: “Friendly Reminder: Tuition Payment Due.”
“Friendly,” Sam muttered, squinting at the screen like the word had personally offended him. “Right. Like a mob boss politely asking for a favor.”
From the top bunk, Kyle, his roommate, tossed down a bag of chips. “Still stressing about money?”
Sam caught the bag with one hand, ignoring the fact that it was already half-empty. “No, I’m totally fine. I mean, what’s a few grand of student debt when you’ve got charisma, charm, and…” He waved vaguely at his cluttered desk. “...half a roll of quarters?”
Kyle popped his head over the edge of the bunk, smirking. “Sounds like you’re living the dream.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “If by ‘dream,’ you mean the nightmare where I’m being chased by an avalanche of overdue bills, then yeah, absolutely.”
Kyle laughed, leaning back. “Could be worse. You could still be working at Crème de Maison.”
Sam winced at the memory. “Don’t remind me. If I never see another avocado toast or hear someone say ‘but is it organic?’ again, it’ll be too soon.”
He sank further into his chair, the weight of reality pressing down on him. Rent was due in a week, his bike needed repairs, and the last gig he’d tried—tutoring freshmen in biology—had ended with one of his students crying over mitochondria.
Kyle tossed a pillow down at him. “Dude, you’ve got to figure something out. I’m not loaning you rent money again.”
Sam caught the pillow and hugged it to his chest. “Thanks for the pep talk, Mom.”
Kyle grinned. “Anytime. Hey, have you checked out that HeroForHire app?”
Sam looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “HeroForHire? What’s that?”
“It’s like Uber, but for superheroes and sidekicks,” Kyle explained, sliding down from the bunk. “You sign up, get paired with a hero, and help them out with missions. Easy cash.”
Sam blinked. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. My cousin did it for a while. Said it paid better than working retail.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, because retail pays in lint and broken dreams. How’s it work? I just sign up and suddenly I’m Spider-Man’s assistant?”
Kyle shrugged. “More like you’re stuck with some low-budget hero who can fly three feet off the ground or something. But hey, it’s money.”
Sam opened his laptop, curiosity piqued. A quick search pulled up the app’s website, complete with a flashy banner that read: “Be a Hero! (Or At Least Help One)” in bold, optimistic lettering.
“Okay, this looks ridiculous,” Sam said, scrolling through the FAQ. “Do I need powers? No. Do I need experience? Also no. Do I need to hate myself? Strong maybe.”
Kyle leaned over his shoulder. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? You help a hero fight some crime, make a few bucks, and finally stop eating ramen every night.”
Sam hesitated. The idea was insane. But so was his budget. “Fine,” he said, opening the app. “Let’s see what this hero gig economy is all about.”
The signup process was surprisingly easy, which was either a good sign or a massive red flag. Sam filled out the form, uploaded a picture, and clicked Submit. A message popped up almost immediately: “Congratulations! You’re now a HeroForHire sidekick.”
“That was disturbingly fast,” Sam muttered, leaning back in his chair.
Kyle grinned. “Now all you have to do is wait for your first assignment. You’re officially a superhero’s lackey.”
“Sidekick,” Sam corrected. “It’s different.”
“Sure it is, ‘Sidekick Sam,’” Kyle said with a wink. “You should get business cards.”
Before Sam could retort, his phone buzzed with a notification. He grabbed it, reading the message out loud: “You’ve been paired with Leaflord. Meet at Midtown Park at 10 AM tomorrow.”
“Leaflord?” Kyle burst out laughing. “No way. Isn’t that the guy who controls plants or something? The one who went viral for saving a hedge maze?”
Sam groaned. “Oh, great. My first job, and I’m stuck with a guy who probably names his houseplants.”
Kyle doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Dude, this is going to be amazing. You better take pictures.”
Sam threw a pillow at him. “Laugh it up. I’m about to risk my life for someone whose superpower is being a glorified gardener.”
The next morning, Sam found himself standing at the edge of Midtown Park, clutching a coffee cup like it was a shield. The park was quiet, save for the occasional jogger or dog walker, and Sam felt utterly out of place in his hoodie and sneakers.
Then, he saw him.
Leaflord rolled up on a Segway, his green spandex suit gleaming in the morning sun. A cape made of stitched-together leaves fluttered dramatically behind him, and a vine-wrapped staff rested in his hand. He dismounted with a flourish, surveying the park like it was his kingdom.
“Ah, Sidekick 4372,” Leaflord said, his voice deep and theatrical. “Or may I call you… Sapling?”
Sam blinked. “Uh, Sam’s fine.”
“Nonsense! Every sidekick needs a fitting title,” Leaflord declared, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come, Sapling. Justice waits for no one!”
Sam followed him, already regretting every decision that had led to this moment. “So… what’s the mission?”
Leaflord’s eyes sparkled with determination. “We face a grave threat to urban greenery: The Hedge Trimmer.”
Sam stopped in his tracks. “The Hedge Trimmer?”
“A vile villain who seeks to destroy the sanctity of this park with his foul machines,” Leaflord said, gripping his staff. “Today, we defend the trees. Tomorrow, we save the world.”
Sam stared at him, trying to process the words. “Okay. Cool. Just one question—are we, like, in actual danger, or is this more of a metaphorical thing?”
Leaflord smirked. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Sam followed Leaflord deeper into Midtown Park, each step more hesitant than the last. The self-proclaimed “Defender of Shrubs” walked with purpose, his leaf-stitched cape swishing dramatically as he gestured toward various patches of greenery.
“Do you hear that, Sapling?” Leaflord asked, his voice hushed with reverence.
Sam tilted his head, listening. There was the faint chirping of birds, the rustle of wind through the leaves, and somewhere in the distance, a car alarm. “Uh… hear what?”
“The cries of our leafy brethren,” Leaflord replied, placing a gloved hand on the nearest tree trunk. “They call to me, begging for protection.”
Sam squinted at the tree, which looked completely ordinary. “Right. And what exactly are they saying?”
Leaflord closed his eyes, nodding solemnly. “They speak of a great menace. A destroyer of ecosystems. A harbinger of doom.”
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Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Let me guess. The Hedge Trimmer?”
“Yes!” Leaflord spun around, his staff raised like a battle standard. “He is near. I can feel his presence.”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the park. So far, he hadn’t seen anything remotely villainous. Just joggers, moms with strollers, and a golden retriever chasing a frisbee.
“You sure about this?” Sam asked. “Because I’m pretty sure that guy over there is just pruning some bushes.”
He pointed to an older man in a gardening hat crouched near a row of hedges. The man was humming to himself, carefully trimming stray branches with a pair of clippers. A wheelbarrow full of mulch stood nearby, looking about as threatening as a box of kittens.
Leaflord’s eyes narrowed. “Do not be deceived by his unassuming appearance, Sapling. That is no ordinary gardener. That is The Hedge Trimmer.”
Sam stared at the man, then back at Leaflord. “Are you sure? Because he looks like he’s just… doing his job.”
Leaflord slammed the butt of his staff into the ground. “Foul machinery! Unchecked destruction! Look at the carnage he leaves in his wake!” He gestured wildly to the pile of clippings at the gardener’s feet, as if it were a scene of unspeakable horror.
The gardener glanced up, giving them a friendly wave. “Morning!”
Sam waved back, feeling increasingly ridiculous. “He seems nice.”
Leaflord held up a hand. “Do not engage. That’s how he lures you in.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, praying for patience. “Okay, what’s the plan here? Are we… confronting him?”
“Not yet,” Leaflord said, crouching behind a bush for cover. His cape snagged on a branch, but he didn’t seem to notice. “First, we must gather intelligence.”
Sam crouched next to him, trying not to crush a bed of daisies. “And how do we do that?”
Leaflord leaned close to the nearest plant, a sad-looking fern sticking out of the mulch. He placed a hand on its fronds, his expression deadly serious. “Fear not, little one,” he whispered. “You are safe now. Tell me your secrets.”
Sam stared. “Is this… is this your power?”
“Yes,” Leaflord said without hesitation. “I am the voice of the voiceless. The protector of plants. Their confidant.”
“And do they… talk back?”
Leaflord sighed deeply, as though bearing the weight of the world. “Alas, they are shy. But their silence speaks volumes.”
Sam pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “So, to be clear, you’re just… talking to plants?”
“Communication is a two-way street, Sapling,” Leaflord said, completely unfazed. “It’s about trust. Respect. Building a rapport.”
The fern remained motionless, its fronds swaying gently in the breeze.
“Uh-huh,” Sam said. “And what’s this one saying?”
Leaflord closed his eyes, concentrating. After a long pause, he opened them again with a look of grim determination. “It speaks of sorrow. Of severed branches and stolen sunlight.”
“Right,” Sam said. “Definitely not just a plant.”
Before Leaflord could respond, the gardener stood up and stretched, wiping his hands on his jeans. He adjusted his hat, surveying the hedges with a satisfied nod, then began pushing his wheelbarrow toward the park’s maintenance shed.
“He’s on the move!” Leaflord hissed, ducking lower behind the bush. “Quickly, Sapling! We must follow him.”
Sam groaned but scrambled to his feet, trailing after Leaflord as he darted from one shrub to the next like a very conspicuous ninja. The gardener didn’t even glance back, humming a jaunty tune as he wheeled his supplies along the path.
“This is ridiculous,” Sam muttered under his breath. “We’re stalking a guy with hedge clippers.”
“He is no mere man,” Leaflord whispered. “He is an agent of destruction.”
The gardener reached the maintenance shed and began unloading his tools. Leaflord motioned for Sam to stop, crouching behind a picnic table.
“Now,” Leaflord said, his voice low and urgent. “We strike.”
Sam blinked. “Strike? You mean, like… attack him?”
“Of course not,” Leaflord said, sounding offended. “We confront him with the truth of his crimes.”
“And what crimes would those be, exactly?”
Leaflord stood, his staff raised high. “Hedge Trimmer! Your reign of terror ends here!”
The gardener looked up, startled. “What?”
“You have desecrated this sacred park with your infernal machines,” Leaflord continued, marching forward. “For too long, you have waged war against the innocent flora of this land. But no more!”
The gardener scratched his head, clearly baffled. “I’m just doing maintenance, buddy.”
“Do not play coy!” Leaflord bellowed. “I have seen the devastation firsthand. The clippings. The mulch. The unspeakable horror of artificial turf.”
The gardener stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Sam. “Is he serious?”
Sam held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here for the sidekick gig.”
Leaflord pointed his staff at the wheelbarrow. “Release the plants you have taken prisoner, or face the consequences.”
The gardener crossed his arms. “What consequences? You gonna talk me to death?”
Sam stifled a laugh, but Leaflord didn’t miss a beat. “Your hubris blinds you, Trimmer. Mark my words: justice will prevail.”
“Okay,” the gardener said slowly. “You do that. I’ve got hedges to trim.”
As the gardener walked away, Leaflord turned to Sam, his expression somber. “The battle is far from over, Sapling. But we have made our presence known.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “So… we’re just letting him go?”
“For now,” Leaflord said, his voice heavy with purpose. “But this is only the beginning.”
Sam watched as the gardener disappeared down the path, whistling a tune. “Yeah, he looks super intimidated.”
The mission was over—if one could call trailing a confused gardener and shouting at him a “mission”—but Leaflord seemed anything but satisfied. As Sam followed him back to the Segway, he could practically hear the wheels in Leaflord’s head turning, plotting their next move.
“Well, Sapling,” Leaflord began, his voice laden with exaggerated gravitas, “today we have planted the seeds of justice. But our work is far from done.”
Sam bit back a groan. “Right. Totally. But, uh, I think I’ll just walk back to my dorm and let you… water those seeds or whatever.”
Leaflord spun around, his leaf cape flaring dramatically. “Nonsense! A hero and his sidekick must always stand together, even in moments of respite. Come! I shall take you to your dwelling.”
Sam hesitated, glancing at the Segway. “I mean, it’s not far. I can just—”
“No, no,” Leaflord interrupted, waving him off. “I insist. Climb aboard, Sapling.”
Sam sighed, reluctantly stepping closer to the Segway. “Okay, but where exactly am I supposed to—”
“On my shoulders, of course!” Leaflord exclaimed, as if this were the most obvious solution in the world.
“What?!” Sam stared at him, incredulous. “Why can’t I just, I don’t know, stand behind you?”
Leaflord shook his head solemnly. “Impossible. The Segway is a finely tuned instrument of justice. Its balance is sacred. Two riders would disrupt its harmony. But upon my shoulders, you shall be elevated—both literally and figuratively.”
Sam opened his mouth to argue but realized it was futile. With a resigned sigh, he climbed awkwardly onto Leaflord’s shoulders, gripping the hero’s helmet for balance. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” he muttered.
“Courage, Sapling!” Leaflord boomed, revving the Segway to life. “Together, we shall ride into destiny!”
If Sam had thought riding on the back of a Segway was embarrassing, this was a whole new level. As Leaflord navigated the sidewalks with theatrical flair, Sam clung to his shoulders, silently praying that no one he knew was watching.
“Y’know,” Sam said, trying to distract himself from the very real possibility of falling, “this would probably be easier if you just walked.”
“Nonsense!” Leaflord replied, his voice ringing out like he was delivering a monologue to a packed theater. “A hero must always remain vigilant, ever ready to respond to the call of duty. The Segway ensures both mobility and majesty.”
“Right,” Sam muttered, ducking as a low-hanging tree branch nearly smacked him in the face. “Majestic. Totally the word I’d use.”
Leaflord didn’t seem to hear him. He was too busy launching into what could only be described as a TED Talk for plants.
“You see, Sapling,” he began, gesturing dramatically with one hand while steering with the other, “the world is interconnected. The trees, the grass, the flowers—they are not mere decorations. They are the lifeblood of our planet, the silent guardians of our existence.”
Sam, now gripping Leaflord’s helmet with both hands, rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. Fascinating.”
“Indeed!” Leaflord continued, undeterred. “Each leaf is a warrior, fighting valiantly against the forces of pollution. Each root is a diplomat, bridging the gap between soil and sky.”
Sam tried not to laugh. “You ever think about turning this into a podcast?”
Leaflord ignored the sarcasm, his voice growing more impassioned. “And yet, these noble beings are under constant attack! The Hedge Trimmer and his ilk seek to reduce them to mulch, to strip them of their dignity. But we—” he pointed skyward, nearly throwing off the Segway’s balance—“we are their last line of defense!”
“Great speech,” Sam said dryly. “Maybe keep your hands on the—”
Before he could finish, the Segway hit the curb at a bad angle. There was a horrifying moment of weightlessness as the machine tipped sideways, sending both of them crashing to the ground.
Sam landed flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Leaflord sprawled next to him, tangled in his cape. The Segway buzzed angrily a few feet away, wheels spinning helplessly in the air.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
“Ow,” Sam groaned, staring up at the sky. “I think I broke something. Probably my dignity.”
Leaflord sat up slowly, clutching his side. “Curse that fiend,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Sam turned his head, wincing. “What?”
“The Hedge Trimmer!” Leaflord exclaimed, shaking his fist at the air. “His villainy knows no bounds. Surely, he sabotaged this curb to thwart our mission.”
Sam blinked. “You think a gardener sabotaged a curb?”
“Of course!” Leaflord said, his tone deadly serious. “Do you truly believe this was an accident?”
“Yes,” Sam said flatly. “One hundred percent.”
Leaflord ignored him, struggling to his feet and dusting off his cape. “Fear not, Sapling. We will not be deterred by this treachery.”
Sam groaned, sitting up and rubbing his sore back. “I’m pretty sure this was deterred by bad driving, not treachery.”
“Nonsense!” Leaflord reached down to help him up, his grip surprisingly firm. “Rise, Sapling. The fight for greenery continues.”
Sam accepted the help, wincing as he got to his feet. “Okay, well, can we at least continue the fight on foot? I’m not getting back on that death machine.”
Leaflord glanced at the Segway, which was now making a sad beeping noise. “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “But only because it is injured. Poor steed.”
Sam shook his head, limping toward his dorm building. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“You’ll thank me one day,” Leaflord said, walking beside him with his cape fluttering in the breeze. “When you understand the true importance of our mission.”
“Sure,” Sam muttered. “Right after I finish thanking this curb for teaching me the meaning of pain.”
By the time they reached the dorm, Sam was limping slightly, his hoodie smeared with dirt from the fall. Leaflord, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed, as though this were all just another day in the life of a hero.
“Well, here we are,” Sam said, gesturing to the building. “Thanks for the… ride?”
Leaflord placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, his expression solemn. “Rest well, Sapling. For tomorrow, we fight again.”
Sam gave him a tired wave, trudging up the steps. As he opened the door, he heard Leaflord shout dramatically behind him: “And beware! The Hedge Trimmer’s influence may reach farther than we know!”
Sam let the door swing shut behind him, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. I’ll keep an eye out for rogue lawnmowers.”