Chapter Text
"Kid, what the hell are you doing?"
The California sun is relentless as it bakes everything underneath it. There's the smell of grass up his nose and cicadas rattle his ears. Everything hurts.
"Kid?"
A blink. Chase blocks the sun and it's scorching rays as he leans into view. He's missing his helmet, but the Track Star suit is on, red and white in all its glory.
He's got that look on his face like he's not sure if he wants to punt him or not.
"Fell out of the tree." Robert points at said tree, voice scratchy and high pitched. It's a big tree. The biggest in the neighborhood by a long shot, with it's dumb purple flowers and weak branches. It's also got an obnoxiously bright pink kite tangled in it.
Robert spits a purple petal out of his mouth, the taste of sewer sludge sticking to his tongue.
"I know damn well that ain't your kite," Chase responds, hands on his hips while one eyebrow raises to meet his hairline. “The fuck are you climbing this tree for?"
"It's Tracy's kite," he complains back, sighing as his hand flops into the grass beside him. Its itchy against his skin, pins and needles rising all over his body because he'd fallen hard. Like, basically at the top of the tree before a branch snapped kind of hard. "She's sad it got stuck so I was tryin' to get it for her."
Chase stares at him, face shuttering through all 5 stages of grief before he looks over his shoulder at the gaggle of kids playing hopscotch down the sidewalk. Tracy, youngest out of all of them at 7 years old with bright blonde curls and missing two front teeth, stands with her hands clasped together, wide eyes watching them. The superhero grunts.
"Always doin’ too much," the man shakes his head, "Well don't just lay there then. We got an audience, dumbass."
Hands shove themselves under his armpits, and the world tilts as he's picked up and dropped onto his feet. Robert doesn't get a chance to orient himself before he's being turned towards the tree, heavy hands latched onto his shoulders.
The big Jacaranda looms over them, casting shadows across his face. Another blink, the hands disappear. Chase is in front of him now, kneeling with a smirk as he ties back his locs. "You ain't concussed, are you? That'd be damn embarrassing. Are you seeing three of me?"
Robert's face crumples in indignation, body aching distantly. "If there were three of you l'd cry."
That was a lie. Big kids didn't cry, and while three Chase's would be awful, Robert is 9 now so he's big and didn't cry over anything. The speedster barks a laugh, reaching out to cover Robert's face and shake him around like he's a bobble head. He lets him, mostly because he knows it's impossible to avoid it. And he doesn't wanna be put in timeout again for biting.
"Alright, shithead," The superhero pulls his hand away, and now he looms over Robert too, still wearing that dumb smirk. Sun beams break through the branches and surround him like spotlights as he turns to put his back to him. Then he's pulling that pose, the one that lines magazine covers and news broadcasts; The one where even without the helmet he looks like he'll save the day. Robert feels a thrill of excitement go through him, lips twitching into a smile for the first time in the last 5 minutes.
"I'm about to show you how a real professional gets kites down from trees. Think you can keep up?"
There's a flash of light, and-
Robert’s forehead hits the hardwood of his apartment with a thunk. “Fuck. Ow.”
He gets 5 seconds to register that he’d fallen out of his chair before a cold nose is in his face, sniffing rapidly. The dream fades, lingering behind each blink, before it’s gone completely. He.. hasn’t had a dream like that in a long time.
Robert frowns, nudging Beef away while he sits himself up with a groan. Sunlight filters in through his balcony shades, catching the literal chunks of dust floating in the air. Beef, never one to be deterred, prances around him with small yaps, butt wiggling with each tail wag. He can practically hear him chanting feed me, feed me, feed me-
“Okay, okay,” Robert watches his dog spin circles in excitement. Unbidden a grin pulls at his lips instead. “You’re such a menace, acting like you went to bed without dinner.”
Beef tippy-taps against the ground around him as he pushes himself to his feet, head throbbing and body protesting with its usual aches. The small dog basically walks on his heels as he wanders into his kitchenette. Kibble fills the shitty plastic bowl and spills onto the linoleum, and then water in the matching one next to it from the sink. His dog eats like he hasn’t had a meal in weeks, making a gagging sound when food catches in his throat. It has Robert rolling his eyes so hard he’s pretty sure he catches a glimpse of his brain, bending at the waist to smack at the chunky dogs back. He did not need Beef keeling over on him.
The rest of the morning goes like this: he picks up his designated sleeping chair from where it got knocked over (not broken, thank god), showers with the water so scalding he looks like a lobster, gets dressed, takes Beef out to go to the bathroom, sniffs his singular box of cereal before deciding he’s not that hungry, and then he leaves for work. Because he has a job now.
Well, technically he had a job before. Said job that he wasn’t getting paid for. And faced grievous bodily harm every day. And also almost died doing. Multiple times.
Now he just has to take a bus, walk 8 blocks to the SDN building and micromanage a bunch of emotionally stunted ex-villains instead. He’s still not getting paid though, he’s on some kind of trial or whatever considering every other person before him has figuratively taken the money and ran once that first paycheck hit.
He doesn’t blame them, seriously. Retired heroes or not, he was pretty sure his team would send anyone into an early grave, or at least make them develop a hernia. Luckily for everyone (minus said team), Robert is convinced his health couldn’t get any worse, and he didn’t particularly care about dying early.
Beef, as if sensing his morbid thoughts, slimes his cheek with slobber as they slip into the blessedly air conditioned SDN building. The elevator ride up is cramped but short, and he hugs his dog a little tighter.
“There you are, shithead.”
Robert doesn’t flinch, but he does duck and turn as soon as he’s released from the elevator’s clutches, eyes immediately latching onto the voice’s owner. Chase is standing there, mustache wiggling and two cups of steaming coffee in hand.
After images of his dream- his memory- overlap with the man in front of him. Shorter, skinnier, head full of white hair. Tall, lean, long locs tied back with a shitty scrunchy. He didn’t think much on it his first day when they reunited, but the Chase from his childhood had been so much.. bigger. So stall. Untouchable, even standing close. Now he’s here, frail and small in a way Robert always thought would be impossible.
There’s an ache in his chest. He tries to ignore it.
“The fucks wrong with you?” Chase shatters the silence by knocking into him- gently, he was still holding Beef after all, but it’s clear he’d push him over in a heart beat given the chance. “Staring at me like I’m some kind of ghost. I ain’t dead yet, motherfucker.”
Robert grins, nudging the retired superhero back, wandering towards their desks. “Really? You looked so gray I couldn’t tell. I was scared you decided to haunt me poltergeist style.”
“Ahh, shut the fuck up, you already got one foot in the grave you fuckin’ bag o’ bones. Lookin’ like you should be on display at the Smithsonian.”
“I don’t think I’m old enough to be put on display, unlike you.”
“Lotta smack talk from a guy that hunches more than my old ass.”
“Hey so, uh, are guys done with.. whatever this is?”
Invisigal materializes from nowhere as soon as both him and Chase reach their desks, hanging off the partition like it’s her personal jungle gym. Chase swears in the middle of setting down their mugs, and Robert flinches. Beef yaps happily.
“Bitch! You’re lucky I didn’t spill none of this.” Chase starts complaining, trailing off into background noise as Robert’s adrenaline settles, shoulders uncurling while giving her an unamused look. She waggles her fingers condescendingingly.
“Did you need something, Vis?” Beef plops down and curls up beside the desk as soon as Robert lets him down, yawning like his owner hadn’t done most of the walking for him. Invisigal looks at the dog with something alarmingly close to genuine affection before leveling Robert with.. suspicion? Disbelief? He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him. He lowers his backpack to the ground with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, I do need something. I wanna know since yesterday was cut day, why are none of us gone?”
Visi throws a thumb over her shoulder, posture tense and eyes narrowed into a mean squint. Said thumb is aimed across the room towards the conference area, currently occupied by the entirety of Z-team, all heads not so subtly flicking in his direction every few minutes. Totally not freaky and unnerving. He can see other dispatchers glancing his way too, who he stares blankly at, maintaining eye contact. They look away.
“Because I didn’t cut anyone, obviously.” Robert replies drier than the Sahara desert, turning away from the ex-villain.
He wasn’t lying. No one got cut, because he didn’t make a decision. His first day may have been a shitshow, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize his team had been together long enough to already form bonds. It was all laid out over their comms; Who ribbed off who, who didn’t have power compatibility, their personalities-
Blonde Blazer telling him they needed to cut someone the next morning had put a sour taste in his mouth. While not perfect, the team had already set their preferences and friendships, and he’d learned their ins and outs. They could function together as a whole, but only certain cogs moved others, like any machine. Did yesterday have its ups and downs? Duh. They were all freaking out about being cut and desperate to not be on the chopping block. Yet despite all that, If you knew where to look it wasn’t hard to make the pieces fit. Z-Team was like one massive fucked up jigsaw puzzle, with too sharp edges that just needed to be put in the right place.
Take one piece away.. well, the puzzle becomes incomplete. The cogs don’t turn.
Flambae and Prism work together efficiently, and the former was less likely to go off course and set fires if he did a few calls with her. Vis and Golem could function well; Their resident Houdini’s disappearing elephant actually stayed on task while Golem remained motivated for most of their shifts. Malevola and Sonar, for some reason, balanced each other out if he needed to put either of them with a partner. Plus, Malevola seemed to keep a tight leash on Sonar's addiction problem, so it felt like killing two birds with one stone. Or two bats with one stone- Coop and Punch Up have a very obvious history, and while they aren’t exactly awful by themselves or if they have to partner with someone else, they seem.. happier, together.
Maybe it all boiled down to Robert preferring vaguely less volatile comments thrown at him over hearing someone have a bitch fit just because they were unhappy.
“Wow, great explanation,” Invisigal fake claps, cutting into his thoughts, “They should give you a.. a- fuck, what’s it called? Pull.. pool..? Pool lizard?”
Robert makes a face, adjusting his headset and the height of his chair. “Pullitzer.”
“Yeah! That thing.”
God, peace and love to Vis, but where the fuck did she get ‘pool lizard’ from? Should he be questioning how he even knew what she was trying to say? That felt like a red flag. Maybe he was experiencing Stockholm syndrome.
“Anyways,” his headset is ripped off his head and stolen to sit around Visi’s neck, “Tell me why no one’s gone.”
Tell me why I’m not gone, is unsaid between them, and Robert looks up at her. The overhead lights buzz, forming a halo around her purple streaked hair. Her nose ring is slightly crooked, and she’s got a split in her lip from her final brawl with lightning bangle bitch what’s-his-face the previous night.
He thinks about watching her swing alone at that park, smoke curling around her head. Thinks of the end of shift, their hodge podge group surrounding her with cheers. Thinks of Blonde Blazer, big blue eyes and a frown, asking him if he really meant everything he said to the ex-villain over his accidental broadcast.
Yeah. Everyone has a shot. People are who they choose to be.
When he’d said it, he hadn’t really thought about it before it slipped out. But he’d meant it. Looking at the smiles on Z-teams faces and the flashes of their phone cameras like spotlights in between them, it was a truth that became obvious. One he’d never put into words, but had sat and coalesced in his chest as the years spun by and he continued to carry the Mecha Man mantle.
Blonde Blazer had looked.. tired, in response. Sad.
Staring down at Coop and Sonar’s files in her office was like snapping that truth over his knee and tossing it in the trash. A betrayal, or a lie, to himself. The sour taste in his mouth came back, stuck to his tongue and set an ache in his teeth.
“I told Blazer I wouldn’t cut anyone,” Robert sighs, holding out a hand for his headset. “It’s not my fault you all have the awareness of a pack of sloths and didn’t realize I hadn’t called anyone to the conference room last night.”
A bark of laughter from Chase cuts the air, and Invisigals face scrunches like she just licked a sour lemon.
“So, what? We all get hazed into oblivion, gaslighted into thinking our jobs are on the line, just for it to not matter? Blazer let you make that call?” She hisses, like an alley cat. Robert blinks slowly in response.
“Do you want me to cut someone?”
“What? No- just-“ she gives him that look again. Sheer, utter disbelief, as if he’s some weird germ she’s examining under a microscope and can’t figure out why the fuck he exists. It’s a great feeling, really. He totally enjoys being looked at like that.
“If you’re done, can you tell the Yo Gabba Gabba conglomerate in there we’re not having a meeting about this,” He points over the desk partition, his team still hogging the conference room and drilling holes into his head. “It’s settled. I’m sure you guys have better things you could be doing.”
Vis makes another noise similar to a pissed off alley cat, yanking his headset from around her neck and shoving it into his chest. A dull pain throbs through his ribs, causing him to breathe out sharply as she disappears in a warp of purple shimmers.
His coffee mug floats off his desk, steam hitting him in the face. All he can do is watch it get whisked away apathetically.
“Real mature,” he calls after his lost mug.
Chase suddenly leans over their cubicle, glaring at the empty air like Invisigal contaminated it. “I fuckin’ hate her. As soon as you stand on business, she starts runnin’”
“Wasn’t running your whole thing?”
“Fucker,” a hand knocks his head forward roughly, “I was running into danger.”
“Yeah, that worked out real well.” Robert finally logs into his ancient computer, slipping his headset back on. Chase remains hooked over the half wall in between their desks, grumbling like an actual crotchety grandpa instead of the 39 year old he technically is.
“Shoulda cut her, I don’t care if she climbed the leader board,” he’s muttering, loudly sipping at his cup of coffee. “Shoulda cut all of em’. I’m surprised Blazer didn’t force your hand. How’d you get her to skip the cut requirement?”
“Blazers just too nice.” Robert comments absentmindedly, clicking through old call logs and clearing out messages sent through by other dispatchers. It’s a vague answer, but that was the core of it. Mostly.
“Yeah, she’s also practical,” Chase grunts, side eyeing the fuck out of his face. “I don’t know what the hell you could’ve said to her to keep those fuckfaces from gettin’ the boot, but I bet it was stupid. Always doin’ too much..”
The last part is muttered into Chase’s clearly empty mug, and Robert huffs a small laugh before he can think about it. His dream-memory flickers through his head again, and he looks up at the man. After images come and go; a younger Chase standing over him, California heat melting the earth. Bright purple flowers and sun beams through branches.
A different time. A different life.
“You used to say that nonstop when I was a kid,” Robert blurts.
Chase raises an eyebrow, lowering his mug with a slight smirk. “Course’ I fuckin’ did. It’s cause you’ve been like this since before you could even talk.”
Robert snorts, tapping at his keyboard absently. It’s an oddly slow start to their first shift, other dispatchers also sitting around lazily at their desks. He bets it lasts 10 minutes tops. “Yeah, sure, I’ll say I believe you.”
A beat, a few clicks on his computer. He opens the SDN buildings security feed out of sheer boredom to watch. “Do you remember that I time I fell out of the tree?”
“Which one?” Chase replies, exasperated. Another grin slips across Robert’s face.
“When I was 9. The Jacaranda tree in our front yard? With the pink kite?”
“Hmm.. Oh! Fuck yeah I do,” Chase slams his mug against his desk out of view, “That tree was a goddamn nightmare. You were always gettin’ up in it, but that was the worst stint you pulled. I thought you had permanent head trauma or some shit. You were definitely doin’ too much that time.”
Robert raises an eyebrow, smirking. “And yet you still got the kite down for the neighbor kid.”
“No one likes seeing a sad kid,” Chase gives a look right back at him, “It was the heroic thing to do, you just weren’t a hero yet. Shit’s supposed to be handled by the professionals.”
Theres something bitter in the edges of Chase’s tone that has Robert immediately frowning. Swiveling, he catches the look on the other man; Soft eyed and distant, the lines in his face cutting it with an age he isn’t supposed to be.
A hand suddenly lands on his head, headset knocked askew. “Dumbass. You knew that tree was flimsy as hell. Plus those flowers stained the fuck out of everything. Purple shit everywhere like twinky-winky puked his guts out. Speakin’ of puking, those fuckin’ flowers were toxic but you always had them in your damn mouth-“
“Okay, okay-“ Robert’s voice raises slightly, head being shook left to right, “I get it, can you-“
“You know, Invisigal actually reminds me of that fuckass tree,” Chase interrupts, still going, “Purple shit everywhere, definitely toxic… no wonder I don’t like her.”
“Okay,” Robert rolls his chair backwards out of reach. Chase flips him off. “Thanks for the input, you can stop now. Glad you remember the tree so fondly.”
“Hmph. Do you?”
A pause. The memory blinks by. Purple branches casting shadows across his face. Chase over him, picking him up. Heavy hands and a flash of light.
“I mean, it was in my front yard my whole childhood,” He replies, slowly, half in thought. Fond wasn’t the right way to put it, really. That tree, no matter the season or weather, was always there. Purple petals stuck to his shoes and the taste of sewer sludge on his tongue whenever one accidentally ended up in his mouth. Stacks of broken branches littering the grass, thin and brittle tripping hazzards. All a constant in his revolving door of a life.
“Sentimental fuck,” Chase scoffs, but his mustache twitches like he wants to grin.
“Not true, I’m very dead inside-“ Robert starts, before a call starts blaring through his headset, and he fumbles to straighten it before answering. It ends up being someone yelling about a pet store accidentally letting all its dogs loose. Robert makes a face when said caller says he should send the ‘bat guy’ to talk to the dogs. He doesn’t feel like explaining that’s not how that works.
“Alright, good morning everyone,” Robert clicks into the teams channel, picking out Prism and Malevola as his victims to go herd dogs. “First person to not bitch in the next 5 seconds gets to hold Beef during their break.”
Multiple voices cut themselves off.
“Hey, are you free for a sec?”
Robert looks up quickly from where he’s been spinning in his desk chair and staring at the ceiling. Blonde Blazer is hovering outside his cubicle with an uncertain look, blue eyes wide. The sun has already set, leaving the office dim and empty.
There’s a moment of silence between them.
“Sure.. what’s up?”
Between proto-pulse test seven being an absolute failure, accidentally walking in on Blazer changing, making sure their depressed super alien didn’t chuck himself into the sun, picking glass out of his chest, and learning Invisigal had a dream about jumping his bones, he’d been left more than a little exhausted with the day. Throwing spaghetti on Flambae had a been a highlight, though. Maybe that’s why he scrounges up enough energy to face the superhero in front of him.
Blonde Blazer is in her fancy dress, primed and ready to go mingle with corporate elites and other prominent figures in the industry. A picture perfect hero.
“I wanted to.. talk, before you went home,” the words are stilted in her mouth, and even with a mask her expressions are laid bare for the world. She shifts in place unconsciously. “About last night? I went up the chain of command and, well, pulled a few strings. The big wigs are willing to let cutting any Phoenix Program members go, but if a major incident happens, or there’s no improvement..”
“It’s on me?” He tilts his head, smirking. Beef comes trotting out of his cubicle, panting around a rubber ball Robert dug out of his desk drawer. It drops from his mouth, bouncing and rolling until it hits one of Blazers heels. “I figured, don’t worry. I’m willing to take that risk.”
Blazer frowns. There’s a look in her eyes; One that’s toeing the edge of weariness. She’s not as good at hiding it as she believes she is.
“I didnt think it would work, honestly,” she looks down at the small ball before bending at the waist. Slobber sticks to her opera glove when she picks it up, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I told them what you said, no sugar coating it. And they.. listened. I’ve never had that happen before.”
“You’re just too nice.” Robert echoes from his conversation with Chase earlier that morning. It’s the heart of the matter. The heart of Blonde Blazer.
“Maybe,” she hums. The ball sits in her hand, small and vibrant. Blue eyes flick to Beef sitting at her feet with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. A smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe you’re the one who’s too nice.”
“Right, I’m the staple of kindness,” Robert drawls, watching Beef somehow miss the ball when she basically hands it to him, chasing after it as it rolls past his chair. “A true pinnacle of chivalry and consideration.”
“Yeah..”
Roberts eyebrows furrow at the soft tone in Blazers voice. When he looks up she’s fiddling with the red gemstone around her neck. It glints despite there being no direct light sources. The hairs on his arms stand on end in response. There’s something off about it his fight or flight doesn’t like.
Endless blue meets smooth brown. She bites at her lip. “Can I.. show you something?”
“..Is it going to result in a HR violation?”
Blazer bursts into a fit of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. No more sadness, no hesitation- it all seems to go up in smoke as she suddenly stands taller. Like Robert has given her an edge of confidence despite him not even trying.
“No it’s.. it’s just something I want you to know.”
And then she’s unhooking that red gem from around her neck, the gold chain clinking heavily. Its glint grows, dancing in sharp fractals of light that refract off the office windows and sends sparks skittering across his eyes. Beef yaps once, darting around his chair before sitting down to watch the light show like it’s a normal every day occurrence. Robert rolls back in his chair on instinct, already bending at the knees in case he needs to move, gut swooping with a spike of adrenaline. Blazers figure is floating higher and higher as the light sharpens, burning against the dark, a bulb ready to blow-
Its gone. The sparks die as she turns, dropping back down. The mask is crumpled in her hand, and those same blue eyes blink at him, waiting.
Robert blinks back.
“Am I supposed to be in shock or..?” His mouth moves faster than his brain, eyebrow raising at the shorter, brunette version of Blonde Blazer in front of him. “Is this- am I missing something? A joke? You look the same.”
Blazer makes a face, even more expressive without the mask, hands planting on her hips. “This is- it’s a huge difference! I was just.. the powers, they make me change. This is what I really look like, under the whole.. superhero-ness.”
“You’re two inches smaller and a brunette, congrats.” Robert deadpans, crossing his arms. “Why are you showing me this? I mean, I’m not saying I mind, but I’m kind of worried this is a breach of workplace confidentiality. You know, since this is your civilian look.”
Blazer sighs. Her posture deflates like one of those tube men after sitting out in the sun too long, moving to pull one of the other chairs from a desk. Its wheels rattle, arm rest bumping into his before she drops into it, tilting back to stare up at the ceiling. Beef runs by chasing his ball in front of them.
“Maybe if I wasn’t called Blonde Blazer I wouldn’t be so self conscious about it,” The words are bitten out with something heavy and raw. “It’s hard, under all the expectations and scrutiny, for me to be.. well, me. This me. I wanted you to know who I am without the mask.”
Her face is set in a melancholy way, unwaveringly facing the gray ceiling. A silence lingers as Robert takes her in. Really, she didn’t look that much different- Same cut jaw and soft cheeks, same small nose and red tinted lips. There’s even the same scar that cuts right under her jaw, barely noticeable. Being a brunette and shorter might throw someone else off, but he thinks if he ran into her on the street he’d recognize her eyes in a second. So blue and bright and a little too honest.
He huffs, facing the ceiling too. “How come?”
A moment passes where he’s scared she’s about to admit she did it because she felt like he was owed a debt. He would expect something like that from her; Giving a personal fact away in exchange for a completely normal action, like him preventing Phenomaman from crushing all the cars in the parking lot. Or putting a stop to any more melon only edible arrangements.
Instead her lips quirk in the corner of his eye, features highlighted from the glow of his computer. “I trust you.”
Trust. There’s an ache in his chest again. He swallows down the emotions that choke him, suddenly and visciously.
“Okay.”
More laughter. The office chair creaks as she sits up, stands, figure looming over him. One of her hands is held out in front of her. “I’m Mandy, it’s nice to meet you.”
The ache spreads, but so does the grin on his own face. His callouses catch the silk of her glove, still wet with dog drool. It’s gross but he doesn’t care. “Robert. It’s nice to meet you too, Mandy.”
They stay like that, hands clasped. Blazers mouth drops open, moving quickly. “Um, this is sort of last minute, but I have over an hour before I need to be at that event tonight. Would you want to get a late din-“
A low buzzing alarm from his computer cuts her off, and they both turn towards it, Robert with a blank expression and Blazer with a raised eyebrow. Is he surprised? No. No he is not.
“A hero out of range? Who is it?”
“Who do you think,” Robert huffs, rolling his chair over towards the computer. Blazer moves her own commandeered one back into its spot before leaning over his shoulder with a curious noise. Is dissolves into a small snort while he adjusts his headset, finally able to see the profile on screen.
Clicking ‘locate’ loads a video feed that frames a movie theater and Invisigals big boots obnoxiously thrown over the edge of a seat, half blocking the screen from the camera. He rolls his eyes, clicking into the one on one channel.
“Whatcha watchin’?”
“Typecast 2. You spyin’ on me?”
Blazers head is basically pressed up against his as she listens in on the response, having collected Beef into her arms at some point for the little dog to also see. His ball sits snugly in his mouth.
“Technically you’re still on the clock.” He reminds her, leaning to the side to pick up his backpack. Blazer helpfully opens his drawer so he can pull anything he might need out of it while he packs up. The way her head tilts to keep listening has him making a face though. “Didn’t peg you as a rom-com fan.”
“If I’m on the clock you shouldn’t be pegging me with anything, Robert. That’s extremely inappropriate.” Blazer snorts quietly again, adjusting Beef as she hands Robert a few pieces of paperwork he needs to take home. “Especially since I’m usually the peg-er, not the peg-ee.”
“Noted,” he replies dryly.
“TMI,” Blazer says at the same time.
Visi visibly jumps in the footage, boots knocking together. “What the hell? Is that Blazer??”
“Yes, hi,” said woman pulls his mic towards her while he’s too busy stuffing the leadership self-help books he may or may not have gotten off Amazon into his backpack. Beef yaps from where he’s pressed against her. “Beef says hi too. You know this doesn’t look very good on your hours, right, Visi?”
“Whatever, don’t be a tight ass,” the other woman rasps, boots resettling on the theater seat, “Why are you two still at the office?”
There’s something stiff in her voice that makes Robert look up, before glancing sideways at Blazer. Blue eyes are already on him, an unsure squint tracing their edges. He holds up a finger, pulling his mic back towards himself.
“Just finished up a talk with Blonde Blazer about the team, don’t worry about it,” he hums, pulling the zippers closed on his bag, “You should tell me how the movie is. I wanted to see it.”
“..I got at least 20 minutes of trailers to sit through. I always forget what I’m watching by the time it starts.”
Blazer chuckles, leaning heavily against his desk chair now that he’s finished packing up. Her face is still close to his and the headset, dark hair falling over her shoulder as they both watch the camera feed.
“Same. You going solo?”
“I’m a loner, Robbie,” that earns a heavy eye roll, “A rebel.”
Blazers mouth drops open like she wants to say something in response to that, before she gets cut off by Invisigals voice crackling through. “That and I feel bad asking people to pay when I’m just gonna sneak in. The only lame thing is I can’t get snacks.”
“Yeah, floating buckets of popcorn do tend to draw a lot of attention.
“Ugh. I miss it. I miss popcorn.”
A beat passes where they both watch the way Vis’s feet tap the air idly, shaking the seat underneath without a care. He looks over at Blazer and the frown marring her face. It’s the same kind of frown she wore the night team cuts were supposed to be made, and Invisigal had almost been on the chopping block. When she watched Z-Team celebrating, laughing and taking pictures.
Did you really mean what you said?
Robert adjusts his bag, standing. He’s careful not to knock into the woman hovering over him. “I didn’t see the first one, can you give me a recap?”
“It’s against the law for you to be watching this.”
“Actually, it’s illegal for you to be filming,” his nose wrinkles, “I don’t need the whole thing, just enough to know what’s going on.”
“Uhh- okay, so it’s about this struggling actress..”
Robert peels his headset off, shutting down the feed and comm link before turning off the computer entirely. Blazer makes a confused noise, hand darting out to turn it back on. She gives Robert a hard look. “Why’d you-“
“I think you were trying to ask if I wanted to have dinner.” He reaches for her hand, turning her away from his desk and towards the exit. Beef starts shaking happily at the prospect of leaving. “But how about we do a movie instead? You’ve got over an hour, right?”
Big blue eyes stare at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing as they walk down the hall, gaping in way that makes him wonder if she’s forgotten how to breathe. They make it all the way to the elevator by the time Blazers brain starts functioning again. “I- well, I guess I’m not against it, the event doesn’t start until 9:30.. but- I, er, should put my necklace back on. And the mask. And-“
“Without the mask and necklace, you’re less recognizable, right?” He scoops Beef out of her tense arms, pressing the call button for the elevator. He has to do it multiple times before it decides to light up, which is annoying. “You could go like this. Just Mandy. Less eyes on you. Unless Vis’ doesn’t know about your alter ego? I’m kind of making assumptions here based on..”
“How she keeps tabs on everything.” Blazer finishes, looking down at the crumpled mask still in her hand. It’s covered in a decent layer of dog fur from holding Beef.
“I was going say how she stalks everyone, but that sounds more corporate.”
The elevators dings open in front of them, and he steps in. Blazer hesitates, idling on the other side. Theres something coiled in her stance; Still unsure, still undecided. A picture perfect hero visage collapsing in on itself in some macabre of emotional turmoil, filtering through her expression all at once.
Hands turn into fists. She folds her mask up and shoves it down the front of her dress. Robert lets out a low, sarcastic whistle.
“You just asked for an hour of itching non-stop.”
“Then i’ll be itchy. As Mandy.” That edge of confidence finally comes back and settles on her shoulders. The doors close right as she crosses the threshold, arm lining up against his in a gentle pressure. Buzzing elevator lights cast a warm hue over her brown hair, ends curling from the evening humidity permeating the building. Bright blue eyes and smile face him. “I don’t need Blonde Blazer until later.”
Robert smiles back, and his hand is taken by one of her gloved ones as she leads him through the lobby and out to the parking lot on quick feet as soon as the l elevator opens. “I can fly you to drop Beef off at home and get us to the movie theater in 10 minutes.”
“That’s literally insane.”
Blazer is laughing as she wraps an arm around his waist, the other held up in the air. Her necklace appears in fragmented pieces of light, floating to click around her neck as it forms. It makes all the hair on his arms stand on end again, unnatural energy pulling at every instinct he has that says it’s wrong wrong wrong-
A shower of sparks light her up; Robert twists away so it doesn’t feel like he’s standing too close to a Disney firework show gone wrong while simultaneously stuck on a roller coaster. Gradually she starts floating, leveling them into the sky as her light settles and chocolate strands get replaced with bright yellow gold. Beef yaps, which has Roberts hand shooting out on reflex to catch the ball in his mouth before it hits the ground. Or someone’s car. SDN doesn’t need anymore freak insurance claims coming through their offices anytime soon- Especially ones involving bouncy balls lodged in windshields.
“Okay, ready?”
“…then he realizes her secret, but it turns out he has a secret too, which could ruin-“
Invisigal flinches hard as soon as knuckles knock against her shoulder, face screwed up like she’s getting ready to pick a fight, facing towards-
“What the fuck,” she blanches, a little too loud. Robert smiles. Blazer waves over his shoulder, hair in chocolate waves and closer to his height again. She’s got a ahold of the popcorn and candy while he’s holding onto two extra large drinks.
There’s a long, long moment where they just stand there, and his eyes drift to the ex-villains legs blocking the aisle before sliding back to her face, one eyebrow raising. Heavy boots drop out of the way, her own eyes narrowed into slits as she watches them squeeze by her. She’s giving pissed off alley cat who doesn’t know if it wants you in its territory or not.
“Here,” Blazer sets one bucket of popcorn in Vis’s lap, like a peace offering. “I hope I put enough butter, I can go back and get more if you-“
“I- what-” Vis leans in towards them with a hiss, forcing Robert to lean back, because apparently he made a mistake taking the middle seat. He levels a look only 3 days worth of being asked hostile loaded questions could manifest at her. Blazer presses in from his other side, raising a gloved hand as if physically trying to stop the other woman’s confused anger. “You didn’t even hear any of that?”
“Yeah, no,” he drawls, taking the box of milk duds in Blazers lap and forcing it into one of Visi’s hands. He takes a long swig of one of the drinks. “It’s probably fine though.”
“I’ve seen the first one,” Blazer whispers in the middle of dumping an entire box of hot tamales into her own popcorn. She shakes the bucket around to mix them together properly, butter and flecks of yellow sticking to her gloves. Robert cringes. Those things have been through the wringer tonight.
“Great. Guess i’m the odd man out.”
“Is this..” Invisigal is doing it again. Giving him that look like he’s a germ under a microscope. Except it feels likes he’s been upgraded to a deadly germ that could start the zombie apocalypse so she has to figure out how the fuck to get rid of him in .5 seconds or the world is doomed. Still not a great feeling. “What’re we, like, friends now?”
Her eyes dart between him and Blazer, dragging across their faces in silence. Robert takes another long gulp of his drink.
“Or is this some sort of team building exercise..?”
“To be fair, I thought we already were.” Robert mutters.
“We are,” Blazer says at the same time. She shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth, leaning around him to smile at Visi.
Invisigals face scrunches, turning back towards the movie screen. She side eyes them every few seconds. “Mandy? Yeah. Washed up ex superhero turned office twink? I haven’t decided yet.”
It’s Roberts turn to side eye them, stealing some of the popcorn out of the bucket in Vis’s lap. Blonde Blazer and Invisigal were almost as obvious about having some kind of history as Punch Up and Coop, though he hadn’t quite figured out what kind of history it was. There were the little things that stacked up: Visi wearing Blazers earrings the first time they met, Blazer admitting she ‘probably’ wouldn’t have let him cut Visi even if she hadn’t climbed the leader board, Visi boldly implying she’d been in Blazers office while she changed into her dress, and now calling her Mandy..
“Well, good thing I’m not the one that spent a hundred bucks.” Robert not so subtly looks between the popcorn, snacks and drinks. Blazer elbows him in the arm.
“..I’m not gonna fuck either of you because you got me a bucket of corn.”
“Ugh. Can’t you just be normal for like, a second?” He sighs out, giving her his most deadpan look. It doesn’t really work cause he can feel his lips twitching.
“That’d be an HR violation anyways,” Blazer leans around his shoulder, shaking a bag of sour patch kids in both their faces. “Visi, you like these, right? Robert picked them out.”
“Ah, so Best Buy fight club has taste,” said woman smirks, snatching up the bag of sour candy without hesitation. They’re both leaning in on each side, Blazers arm pressed along his left while Vis’s shoulder overlaps his own on the right, all three of their heads ducked together.
The lights suddenly dim above them, and the theaters warning to put their phones on silent and away echoes through the speakers. Swathed in the dark, surrounded on both sides, it feels a little like being back in the Mecha Man suit. It’s an.. odd feeling. Something nostalgic. Something that punches an ache in his chest.
“This is nice.” Visi leans in to whisper, eyes glued to the opening scene playing. Blazer nods in the corner of his eye.
It is nice. Even when the woman on his right starts snickering, and there’s the obnoxious sound of a plastic bag being torn apart. She starts forcefully prying his hand open to put something in it. Looking down reveals a slightly deformed blue sour patch kid in his palm.
“That’s you,” she wheezes, hunching over her bucket of popcorn. “That’s your tin can suit.”
Blazer looks over, snorts way too loudly for the quiet theater, then looks away, shoving another handful of popcorn into her mouth.
Robert looks up and holds eye contact with Invisigal, biting the piece of candys head off.
“Dude, you just killed Mecha Man.”
Purple flowers crowd his vision, swaying in a light breeze. Golden glow filters through from the setting sun and glares in his eyes. There are hands grabbing him under his armpits, and he’s moving up, higher, taller, closer to the flowers-
“Alright, get your stupid ass up here.”
There’s a loud creak in the bark under his shoes. He blinks, looking up. Chase has petals in his locs and across his shoulders, purple smudged into the white of his hero costume. Strong hands hold both of them stable against the branch they’re on.
“What if this one breaks?”
Roberts voice is a rasp eaten by rustling branches and cicada song. Chase looks down at him. His smirk is soft. The sun basks them while it goes down.
“You’re good kid, this branch is safe,” his vision shifts. A blink. He’s sitting. The branch creaks under his weight again. “And if it ain’t, well, I’ll fuckin’ save you.”
“Okay.”
Robert stares at the sun through purple branches. It’s golden beams turn the sidewalk and street into a river of strange shadows. There’s a figure further away, flying a kite.
“Good view?”
Chase sits down. His arm lines up with Roberts skinny one; so much stronger. So much bigger,
Robert drops his head against Chase’s shoulder. A petal lands on his cheek, before disappearing with the breeze.
“Yeah. A really good view.”
Notes:
I love comments I love kudos please tell me your thoughts or feelings!!
I write with purposeful imagery and symbolism sometimes so you know I’ll have fun if you guys have any theories or if there’s just something you noticed. who knows, it might be foreshadowing.. it might be plot relevant.. >:)
oh and if anyone wants my robert playlist lmk! I’ll link it in the next chapter or edit the end notes to put it in here
again, thanks for reading! ;3
EDIT:
(^^ no specific order but I’m titling all chapters after songs in it)
Chapter 2: call me an american hero, oh
Summary:
“What, you jealous or something?” Robert drawls, his fingers digging into the back of his neck, working the pain in it over in a desperate bid to get rid of it. It’s not working. “If you wanted to grab dinner all you had to do was ask.”
“Yeah, heh.. you're not my type.”
“I know you fuckin’ lyin’!” Prism cuts in with a cackle, the distant sound of her hitting something in the background. She might be sitting at one of the tables in the break room already. “Please, a skinny white boy with sad doe eyes who talks back? You’d take him for a real good spin if he gave you the chance-“
“Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up right now!”
“No, god, don’t ruin this. That was the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.” Robert interjects, which makes Flambae dissolve into grumbling noises. He’s gonna just pretend Prism didn’t say what she did. Nope. Not touching it with a ten foot pole.
Or:
local office twink continues to face workplace harassment. everyone send thoughts and prayers for robert.
Notes:
AHHHHHHH hello!! hi!! first and foremost: thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter! I’m so glad everyone enjoys my writing and is invested, it means a lot after not having writing anything in so long. You guys are sweet <3
secondly: no spoilers for ep 7 & 8 but OHHH MY GOD? OH MY GOD? I love what they did with the story and I hope to keep similar elements by the end of this fic while still putting my own spin on things. It was so exciting!! I love you AdHoc studio give me season 2 right now-
anyways, chapter 2! A whopping.. 8,468 words. Yeah. I went a little crazy. I debated cutting some things out but this fic involves a lot of character dynamic and world building so I decided all the scenes were necessary. This is my version of ep 5 but we’re definitely entering the stage where I start messing with canon. I hope you like it!
chapter title is from American Hero by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hey hey hey! I’m Gary Boseman and this is my series: Ask A Boomer! Where I walk the streets of downtown LA and ask older folks their thoughts and feelings on current news.” Gary Boseman, with a camera worthy smile, throws a thumbs up. “Today’s topic? Life Without Mecha Man.”
The words appear on a black screen, clearly edited in post. Gary Boseman appears again, smile still in place.
“What are peoples thoughts? How do those who’ve lived through the generations of Mecha Man feel about his absence in LA County after 6 months? Keep watching to see the raw, uncut interviews!”
Multiple angles of Boseman walking through different spots in Downtown Los Angeles flick by, before it stops with the man standing next to a clearly older gentleman. He’s stocky, with tan, weathered skin and streaks of gray in his dark hair. Boseman is in the middle of shaking his hand when he starts speaking.
“Alright, thank you sir for agreeing to an interview. And, just to check, you are a boomer, correct?”
The man laughs, dropping the handshake to rub at the graying beard on his face. “‘Course I am. 64 and counting now.”
“Perfect, what’s your name if you don’t mind saying?”
“Reymond. You can call me Rey.”
“Nice to meet you, Rey! I’m Gary. Today we’re asking about Life Without Mech Man. How do you feel about the fact that for the first time in almost 50 years we don’t have a Mech Man protecting the greater Los Angeles area?”
Reymond makes a low noise, nodding along to the question. His expression drops into something serious, a sharp contrast to the cheery interviewer. “It’s a goddamn nightmare.”
“Could you elaborate?” Gary holds up his tiny, Bluetooth mic. He seems confused for a second.
“Well, I remember the first Mecha Man, Prime. He was one of the only few to step up when LA was drowning under all its crime and.. and corruption.” Reymond starts, arms crossing.
“Granted, I was just a kid then, but I still knew bad shit was going on. Watching it all get cleared out growing up was like watching a miracle happen. Then Prime passed, and it felt like the miracle disappeared. Astral coming back with the suit, and the, er, Brave Brigade fixing things in the years after had me thinking, oh, hey, there still is hope. Good shit can still happen. Everything was good. But then we lost Astral too. Losing him was almost worse than Prime; The golden age of heroes went with him.”
Reymond’s dark eyes flick forward, then to Boseman. There’s a short silence before he continues.
“The third Mecha Man? He was the last of the good ones. Last of the old guard. A real fucking hero. It’s getting scary out here, without him. You can feel the absence. I mean, just watch the damn news, you’ll see the uptick in crime. Drug rings are springing up like weeds, there’s new missing person cases every week, casualty numbers are fucking skyrocketing- No one else is doing it like he did. No one seems to care like he did.”
Reymond is staring at the ground, a grim set to his face. For once, Gary Boseman isn’t smiling at the camera. He clears his throat.
“Right! Thank you for that answer, I’m sure most people watching this can agree that the loss of the third generation Mecha Man has impacted the entire county harshly. Now, I have a few more question for you-“
The video cuts off, replaced with a void of darkness.
Robert stares at himself in the reflection of his turned off phone. He blinks, before setting it face down on his kitchen counter.
The half finished bowl of cereal next to him swirls with color, and his stomach rolls. The spoon he’s holding clinks harshly against the chipped ceramic when he lets it go. So-Cal sunrise glares through his balcony and paints everything golden.
He dumps the cereal down his sink drain, grabs his keys, picks up Beef, and heads to work.
“Who pissed in your coffee?” Is the first thing Chase says to him, slung over their cubicle wall. Robert grunts, setting Beef down onto his cushion. His bag hits the ground less gently.
“Haven’t had any yet.”
Hollowness sticks to his voice in a way he can’t exactly hide, movements stiff and slow. It feels like someone poured cement in between his joints. There’s a pain in his neck that won’t leave, spiking all the way up to his eyes.
“You look like you need some, kid.” Chase’s voice eases into something softer. Robert glances at him, bushy white eyebrows and a considering frown sitting in the aged lines of his friend’s face. The man tilts his head towards the break room. “I think a fresh pot just got made. Better get your skinny ass in there before it’s gone.”
Robert lets out a noise of acknowledgement, waving him off. Despite that he still turns towards the break room, because he knows he’s definitely going to need caffeine to get through the rest of the day. It’d been late when he got home the other night after catching that movie with Invisigal and Blonde Blazer, halfway asleep by the time the latter dropped him off in front of his apartment building. Spending time with them had been good. Fun, even. Between Visi muttering comments under her breath to him every few minutes and Blazer gasping anytime a dramatic scene played, shaking his arm, it all felt slowed down. Syrupy in its calmness. Easy in the way he could breathe.
It was just maybe.. a little too much activity for him after 2 rough work days back to back. Blazer had looked worried when she noticed how tired he’d been climbing up the buildings steps, endless blue eyes glowing under the street lamps. She didn’t leave until he walked out onto his balcony to prove he hadn’t collapsed and died.
Robert’s body, unfortunately, needs more time than most to recuperate from even the mundane shit these days. He doesn’t have the energy as he did before his suit got blown to smithereens and he took a 4 month nap. It’s annoying, but he can push through it. He can adapt.
There is a fresh pot in fact made and ready in the break room when he steps inside. It’s also blessedly empty, which causes him to release a heavy breath. He pulls down a mug from one of the cabinets, SDN logo emboldened across the side of it, looking slightly worn. Steam rises to hit him in the face as he pours his cup full, but all he does is blink blankly in response. The smell of expresso sticks in his nose when he sniffs it.
Does it count as hiding if he lingers inside the break room for longer than necassary? Maybe, but he’s not really in the mood for social interaction, and he doesn’t technically need to put his headset on until the clock hits 9. So he stands there, leaning heavily against the counter, sipping his coffee. His reflection stares back at him in the door of the microwave.
He was the last of the good ones. Last of the old guard. A real fucking hero.
That stupid interview was stuck in his head.
Robert doesn’t even know why he clicked on it. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation getting to him, or his braincells had finally killed themselves after being forced to listen to his team talk for hours on end. Seeing the title ‘Life Without Mecha Man: What happens now? - Ask A Boomer’ was practically inviting an existential crisis, but his thumb had still tapped the video anyways. He’s surprised he made it as far into it as he did before shutting off his phone.
Mecha Man being gone wasn’t just an absence; it was a wound. One festering with an infection so deep it drained the life, the safety, out of Los Angeles County, and hit the rest of So-Cal’s hero framework hard enough to ruin the foundation. Robert wishes he could say that was an exaggeration, or his ego talking, but it was just a bitter fact. Mecha Man was a hero who answered any call for help, who showed up for every disaster. He was out there, day after day, hour after hour, working.
15 years of taking on the bulk of tearing down crime syndicates and drug houses. Of finding missing or endangered persons most would’ve let get lost in a system of cold cases. Of wiping human trafficking and predator ring hubs off the internet to cripple their reach. Of squashing police corruption and political injustice so more voices could be heard. Of digging his hands into the darkest, ugliest parts and tearing out the rot.
15 years of helping people.
Mecha Man has been out of action for 6 months, and Robert can feel the weight of every person he couldn’t in that time on his shoulders.
“Good morning.” A soft voice ghosts by his ear.
“Holy fuck-“ Robert nearly throws his mug at the person suddenly next to him, flinching hard enough he knocks into the side of the fridge. Coffee splashes his arm and the counter, dripping onto the floor.
Coupé looks at him, unimpressed.
“Your reflexes are slow today,” she comments, like thats a normal thing to say to anyone. Her movements are all graceful ease as she reaches up, flicks her wrist, and a mug appears in hand, it’s form built from void like shadows. Her other reaches for the coffee pot. “Beaten dogs don’t slow. Not unless they’re sick.”
Robert blinks.
“Did you just compare me to an abused dog?”
“What do you think?” She pours enough coffee into her void cup that it should be overflowing, but it isn’t. He’s not sure he wants to know where all of it is going.
“I think it’s way too early for this conversation, actually.” Robert decides out loud, setting down his mug to tear off a few paper towels from the roll next to him. He wipes up the coffee on his arm first, red angry blotches left behind from the hot liquid.
“Does it hurt?” Coop asks, eyes on his arm, cradling her mug near her face. The metal wings on her back shift when she leans against the counter. Robert gives her a look as he cleans up the spilled coffee in between them.
There’s a sting, but just barely. He’s had worse. Way, way worse. He throws a few more paper towels onto the ground, using his shoe to wipe up the rest of the coffee. Normally he would kneel to do it, but he didn’t feel exactly comfortable with the ex-assassin in front of him to. It’d leave him more open to attacks. More vulnerable.
“Not really.”
Coop hums, eyes sliding down him like she’s mentally flaying him alive. He bends at the waist, still holding eye contact, picking up the soaked paper towels. All of the ones he’s used get collected together, before being tossed into the trash can by the water cooler. Which he has to maneuver around Coop to do. Because apparently she’s not going anywhere.
“Did you need something from me?” Robert gets out of her space as quickly as possible, picking up his stained mug to examine how much he has left inside of it. Maybe a quarter. Good enough to bother finishing, at least.
“I wondered if chatting with you would reveal why you decided to bypass cutting one of us,” the way she talks doesn’t make it seem like she’s threatening him, but he’s got the distinct impression she is. Her gaze is a little too focused for his liking. It makes his fingers itch, mentally calculating how likely he’d need to use his mug as a weapon. “I’m not an idiot. I know Sonar and I were at the bottom of the leader board. Invisigal was only third to last. One of us, logically, should be gone.”
“I decided cuts weren’t necessary, the end.” Robert replies, face apathetic as he stares right back at her. He raises his mug carefully to take a swig.
“I don’t like that answer.”
“Okay, well,” Robert rolls his eyes heavily, draining the rest of his mug before setting it in the sink. “Tough shit. It’s the answer I’m giving you. Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘don't look a gift horse in the mouth’?”
He’s decided he doesn’t care anymore, he hopes she tries and stabs him. Maybe if he loses enough blood he can have an excuse to avoid his team for a few days and make someone else suffer. Which sounds cruel, until you think about how literally all his problems are now stemming from the fact that he’d tossed out those cut requirements on Monday. If someone took over for him they wouldn’t be getting psychoanalyzed by said team about it. They’d just deal with their regularly scheduled mind numbing bullshit.
“Hmm,” Coop hums again, this time consideringly. Her void mug shifts it’s shape until it turns into one of her blades, flipping between her fingers. Red flag. Major fucking red flag.
“…Are you planning on using that?”
Shadows wisp around her knuckles, and the metal glints sharply. Her lips curl into a smirk. “Not yet.”
Well, wasn’t that reassuring. Robert sighs loudly, pulling his cup back out of the sink and flipping the water on to rinse it. He needed more caffeine.
“Okaay, was there something else? Cause I prefer you get all your vague, coercive threats out now instead of later. It’ll be better for my blood pressure.” He waves at her.. everything, setting his clean mug back onto the counter. Coop passes him the coffee pot without being asked, still twirling her blade as she stares him down. He makes a face, carefully taking it from her, avoiding brushing their fingers.
“I find it odd,” she announces, completely ignoring his question. “When I look at you I can practically see the hero in your stance. But I can’t help thinking we are of similar ilk.”
A blink. He sniffs his mug, steam curling into a curtain that hides his face. “And that ilk is..?”
”Being deadly.”
A dull thunk punctuates the words, her blade driven into the countertop. Robert watches shadow mist linger around it, before his eyes zero in on her face, hunching his shoulders on instinct. Coop’s grin is all teeth.
“Feel better, Robert.” Her voice is like the shadows she controls, soft and oddly discordant while she sidesteps him gracefully. One of her hands ghosts over his shoulder, before she disappears on silent feet.
Robert.. doesn’t know what to do with that. He turns to look at the blade she left behind, holding eye contact with his reflection.
Deep set eyebags, uneven freckles, and a mouth twisted into a frown meet him. The brown of his eyes is swallowed by his pupils, and his skin is sallow. There’s a scar that carves itself just above his left eyebrow, then a smaller one splitting the skin under his bottom lip, slipping down his jaw. The chunk missing in his right ear looks gruesome, all jagged edges and scar tissue. Just like him.
Just like Robert Robertson III.
He takes the blade with him back to his desk.
“Flambae, if you light one more goddamn tree on fire I’m going light your fucking car up next.”
A couple heads peak outside their cubicles to stare at him as he furiously clicks through street camera footage, actively catching Flambae red handed. Literally. His hand is burning with a low flame, half raised towards a tree.
Said hand is shaken out and extinguished quickly, the black and orange figure spinning in the middle of an empty sidewalk like a chicken with its head cut off, looking for a security camera.
“The fuck? I am not lighting any trees on fire. You are crazy. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah, uh huh.” Robert zooms in on Flambae’s face as he storms away from the area altogether. “So that wasn’t you I just watched standing in front of that bookstore, about to turn its tree into ashes?”
“Nooo,” Flambae drags out the word obnoxiously. Roberts fingers rub the bridge of his nose, eyes closing in exasperation. “Also, you touch my car? I will kill you, bitch. I just had to get that shit fixed.”
“Ooh yeah, didn’t Femininomenon crush it with his fat ass?” Prisms voice crackles on the line. Robert clicks out of the camera footage he’d hacked to watch her location blip start heading back towards the SDN building, map of Torrance littered with other in progress calls.
“Yes, with his fat stupid fucking ass. That shit cost way too much. I had to get it towed out of the fucking lot.” Flambae spits, his own blip finally on course to the call he’d assigned him 5. Minutes. Ago.
Robert drags a hand down his face, staring at the screen.
“I can’t believe you just called Phenomaman ‘Femininomenon’. That’s a crazy pull, since I’m pretty sure his name is a play on the word phenomenal, not phenomenon. It also feels like an insult to Chappell Roan.”
“What’s the difference between them?” Invisigal jumps in, sounding genuinely confused. He debates muting all of them for half a second just to be petty.
“You don’t happen to be dyslexic do you, babes?” Malevola’s voice is slightly breathless, blip moving at a, frankly, terrifying speed across his computer map. Robert’s got her in pursuit of a bag thief who’s been robbing poor little grandmas since before he started and no one else has been able to catch. He’s manifesting that she gets the asshole so his team can have bragging rights, because seriously, no one can catch a damn bag thief??
“Maybe I am. What’s it to you, fucker?” Invisigals tone dips defensively.
“Uh, fucker, maybe you should focus on the drug deal I sent you to, not having a linguistic lesson. That’s something that’s supposed to happen in K-12, not at your job.” Robert speaks before they all get derailed and lose focus. Sometimes keeping them on task felt like herding a bunch of cats. Who snorted multiple lines of coke. And took shrooms.
Speaking of coke, Robert’s eye twitches when he catches Sonar’s blip in the east wing of a Starbucks. “Sonar, stop doing drugs in the Starbucks bathroom. You’re supposed to be at a conference as an escort.”
“I’m just getting a coffee,” the bat hybrid sniffs, loudly, over the line. “Y’know, a little pick me up? It’s hard out here, Boberto. I need my energy.”
And I need a lobotomy so I can’t register any of the shit that comes out of your mouth violently flies through his head. The pain in his neck has turned into an ice pick wedging itself between his skull and spinal column. Robert takes a deep, controlled breath. He will not have a breakdown. He will not have a crash out. He’s fine.
“Next time I get a call involving Vanderstenk I’m not going to be nice and send you on it, how about that?”
“Suddenly I’m feeling energized without caffeine or any other substances!” Sonar’s blip starts moving rapidly away from the Starbucks. Robert can only pray he didn’t just leave a line of coke abandoned on the back of a toilet in it.
“I thought we agreed you were cutting back, love.” Malevola sounds surprisingly serious over the line, metal on metal and a scream echoing through it. Robert feels his mood uptick when he gets the confirmation alert that she’s not only snagged the bag thief, but also on her way to return the stolen purse. She wasn’t the worst out of all of them, not by a long shot, and she’s maintained herself pretty high on the leader board since Monday. But there’s something in his chest that coils tight when he hears the purse's owner thank her, voice frail. Grateful. Mal gently tells the woman ‘no worries’. Robert opens his mouth before he can think about it.
“Impressive job, Mal. Lunch is on me if you want.”
“What?!”
“No fair, what the fuck.”
“Uh, can I get lunch too? I’m doing a good job. I’m very impressive in my feats.”
“My tails wagging, I swear.” Malevola's pleased tone chimes through the comm, cutting in between all the chatter. Her blip is darting back towards SDN at a much more normal pace. “We’re going to In-N-Out.”
Robert pauses in the middle of toggling a security camera to track Coops route through an industrial warehouse, making a confused face. “In-N-Out? Really?”
“Yeah,” She hums, “I love their animal style chips. Delicious.”
“Okay, it’s your lunch.” Robert does feel a sliver of relief that she didn’t pick out some kind of pricey restaurant, so he’s not going to say anything else. He was floundering enough with his meager savings as is.
“I’m comin’ too!” Prism bulldozes her way into the conversation. “Mama needs herself a double-double stat.”
“You do know I’m not going to pay for you too, right?”
“Did I ask you to pay for me? I don’t need your damn money, I’m just catchin’ the ride there. That cool, Mal?”
“‘Course babes, meet you in the break room?”
“You know it.”
“Yo, this reminds me Bob Bob, word in the hallways is that you went on a date yesterday. That true?” Flambaes voice rolls over the comm, which is great, really. Totally isn’t going to throw the team into another tailspin of random conversation. Visi snorts loudly under the background chatter, and he suddenly becomes extremely suspicious that she was the one to start this rumor.
Which still doesn’t explain why the walking fire hazard cares. He’s surprised he’s even bothering asking about it, considering Flambae's general burning dislike for him. In like, every sense.
“What, you jealous or something?” Robert drawls, his fingers digging into the back of his neck, working the pain in it over in a desperate bid to get rid of it. It’s not working. “If you wanted to grab dinner all you had to do was ask.”
“Yeah, heh.. you're not my type.”
“I know you fuckin’ lyin’!” Prism cuts in with a cackle, the distant sound of her hitting something in the background. She might be sitting at one of the tables in the break room already. “Please, a skinny white boy with sad doe eyes who talks back? You’d take him for a real good spin if he gave you the chance-“
“Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up right now!”
“No, god, don’t ruin this. That was the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.” Robert interjects, which makes Flambae dissolve into grumbling noises. He’s gonna pretend Prism didn’t say what she just did. Nope. Not touching it with a ten foot pole.
“Coupè, do you want to go on a lunch date?” Punch Up throws out over the noise. The both of them are slowly trekking their way back to SDN, having found the arms deal he sent them to break up.
“Sure. I want Italian.”
“Hey, does anyone know what a baby Kaiju eats?” Golems gravel voice takes over next. Yeah, Robert knew they were all going to get derailed again. Fantastic. “I’ve been tryin’ a few things, but she’s kind of picky. I don’t know if I’m givin’ her the right stuff.”
“Did you try anything fish related?” Robert sighs into the line. He might’ve snapped about everyone being distracted, except Golem had stepped up at the end of second shift the other day when he claimed he’d take in the baby Kaiju that’d been down on Torrance beach, abandoned. So Robert is going to be nice and helpful, like he’s supposed to be.
“Oh, no. Man, I should try that.”
He drags his hand down his face for the nth time. The little alarm clock in the corner of his ancient screen starts ringing, and he unclenches his jaw for the first time in hours. “Okay, that's lunch. Anyone who’s not in the building please make sure to come back and clock out. I don’t need more paperwork.”
“Do you think he’s got an iron stomach? Who’s got a power like that? Super digestion?”
“The Gluttanator.”
Robert is regretting buying Malevola lunch.
“But I don’t know, that guy weighed, like, a thousand pounds.”
“Hey Robert, did you recently lose like seven hundred pounds?”
Really, really regretting buying her lunch.
“First off,” he starts, in the middle of taking a sip from his rootbeer float. “You’re either shit at math, or you think I’m like three hundred pounds. I am not. I don’t even know in what world I look like I weigh that much.”
The midday sun beats against his back as he stares at Malevola and Prism across from him. They’ve taken over one of the outdoor tables next to the In-N-Out, shitty red and white plastic umbrella doing a subpar job of shading them. Two palm trees spiral together and up into the sky over their heads, swaying with the breeze. Beef lays at his feet, snuffling every few seconds.
“Secondly, what are you two even talking about?”
“There’s a pool going around on which superhero you used to be.” Prisms informs him, chewing her burger. She’s stripped off her gloves, arm cuffs and all, having tossed them onto the table to not smear any sauce on them. Her double-double is loaded with enough peppers Robert can feel the heartburn. “Person who guesses right wins nine hundred and thirty-six dollars.”
He blinks. He can’t tell if there’s some punchline he’s missing or not. “That’s a real specific number.”
“And that specific number,” Mal jumps in now, stabbing a forkful of animal style fries at him, “Could be ours.”
“Right..” Guess there wasn’t a punchline. That was literally just how much had ended up in the betting pool. Which is.. an insane amount of money to be betting. That was, what, a little over 100 from them each? If they all were a part of it? Unless someone bet big. It was probably Coop, if he had to pick - he thinks he heard Punch Up mention something about her being into gambling.
“So, give us a hint.” Malevola's voice echoes oddly as she leans forward, pupilless eyes wide and gold jewelry shimmering in the sun. Her tail sways over her shoulder, like a cat's when it spots a bird outside a window. Prism leans in next to her, nodding hard enough her two-toned bob shakes. Maybe he would feel more pressure from her beady eyed look if she didn’t have sauce smeared across her bottom lip and her burger wasn’t falling apart in her hand.
“No.” Robert picks up a fry from one of the trays in the middle of the table, leaning down to hand it to Beef. The little dog nearly brains himself on the bench with how fast he snatches it out of his hand. He rolls his eyes, petting him.
“Oh c’mon, I mean, we’re friends right?” Malevola keeps trying. The sword strapped to her back gleams with a ripple of red energy at the same time as her voice echoes oddly again. There’s a weight to her words he can feel settle against his spine. Like, in a metaphysical sense. It makes him sit up straighter, eyes narrowing. He didn’t like that. That was weird. “Make your friends some money.”
Robert takes another swig from his root beer float, holding eye contact with the half demon. She doesn’t blink, just continues to stare, eyes pools of unnerving yellow. Prism starts taking selfies with her half finished burger.
“Secret identities are secret for a reason,” he shakes his drink at her, finally breaking their impromptu staring contest. Then he’s smirking lazily, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “It’s in the name and everything. Crazy right?”
“Man, you’re always bringing the vibe down, don’t be like that!” Prism finally stops with the selfies to give him an irritated look. Malevola nods, grabbing her second burger from one of the trays. She’s already slammed back a 3x3 along with her animal fries, but apparently she’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach. Robert feels vaguely sick watching her literally inhale the rest of her food, picking at his own portion of fries halfheartedly. There's a to-go bag with a regular burger and fries inside for Chase next to him. He’s probably gonna end up tossing his in it..
“Sorry, you’re just going to have to earn your nine hundred and thirty-six dollars some other way,” all he gets up his straw is air when he goes to take another sip of his drink, causing an obnoxious rattling sound. “Hmm, what way could that be? I’ll let you know if I work it out.”
Both women stare at him boredly. He grins.
“Get it? I’m explaining the joke so-“
An In-N-Out cup is thrown towards his face between one blink and the next. He ducks sharply before his brain processes what’s happening, nearly rolling off the bench seat. The cup hits the ground behind him, busting open on impact. Brown liquid and chunks of ice soak the pavement.
“What the fuck?”
Malevola readjusts where she’s sitting, because that was her fucking cup of iced tea she’d just chucked at him. You know, the same one he’d bought her. Real nice. Great waste of money. Prism is using a napkin to wipe her mouth as she eyes him, metallic lipstick somehow still in place. The way she’s sitting makes her look like a high end talent agent who just watched a model walk out and isn’t disappointed for once. “Hm. Decent reflexes.”
Beefs collar jangling has his head snapping around so hard his neck flares in pain, hands fumbling to snatch the dog up before he can get anymore licks in of the spilt drink. “Hey! Beef, No!”
The little dog wiggles, panting excitedly as he fights to get back to his newfound treat. Robert switches his grip, holding the little guy in his lap tightly. Had he fed him maybe not the best stuff sometimes? Obviously, but he wasn’t gonna let his dog kill himself via caffeine. Plus they lived in Torrance, so who knows what the hell was on the ground.
While he fights to get a grip around his dog without letting him also shove his face into his fries, the two women exchange considering looks, Mal’s tail twitching behind her lazily. “Which heroes do we know that talk too much and have quick reflexes?”
The pain in his neck is officially back with a vengeance, wincing when turning his head even slightly feels like crunching glass against his skull. He’s got two fingers in Beefs mouth to make sure the little menace didn’t snatch up an ice cube, having to blink away blur spots as pain spikes behind his eyes. Beef is a sneak if he’s motivated by something he can eat, he knows he is, just because he didn’t see him grab it doesn’t mean he didn’t-
“Clean this shit up.“ Robert snaps, interrupting whatever reply Prism was about to give. He points roughly at the cup behind him for emphasis. Beef yaps happily, distracted, and Robert's fingers finally catch around something cold. He yanks the ice cube out of the dog’s mouth, sighing. “I knew you had one in there..”
“Hey! Losin’ all that weight don’t make you better than us!” Prism points at him. Robert is too busy having a mild adrenaline crash to give her more than a glare, tossing the melting ice-cube over his shoulder.
“Yeah, chill out, Dad.” Malovela's grin is all pearly white teeth and blood red lips, eyes unblinking, waving one of her clawed fingers at him. Turning his glare onto her makes the smile drop, her entire body shifting. It’s hard to tell where exactly she’s looking, but he can practically feel her eyes roving over him.
Malevola squints, before standing up, collecting her and Prism’s trash. Her tail flicks his shoulder lightly as she maneuvers around the table and behind him. “Has anyone ever told you to lighten up?”
“Has anyone ever told you not to throw things like a 5 year old?” He mutters. Either his eyes were playing tricks on him or his shoulder just flashed red where she flicked it. That weight comes back to sit in his spine, and he makes a face, turning to eye her warily. She’s already wandering away to toss their trash, including her cup she just picked up from the ground.
“How about stop being such a bitch,” Prism comments, in the middle of slipping on her gloves. The gold cuffs around her biceps click closed loudly, gleaming where the table umbrellas shade can’t reach. “Hey, Mal, who’s the bitchiest hero you know?”
“Ugh, what’s his name.. Nightwave?” The half-demon comes back, hands planted on her hips. She stands next to Robert, tall figure blocking the sun from beating down on him, horns catching its beams and splitting their light. One of her claw tipped hands lands on his shoulder. He resists the urge to shove it off. “Yeah, he’s constantly whining in interviews. He was in last season of I Need A Hero, always made stuff about himself. No one went on a date with him so he got disqualified and that’s all he talks about on Twitter now.”
Prism makes a low noise in thought, fingers rapidly typing something into her phone. There’s a pause, before she holds up the device side by side with Robert’s face. She’s giving him that beady eyed look again. “Nah, I don’t think it’s him. Roberto’s got that sad puppy look, not whatever the hell this is.”
Robert, because he can’t let things lie, leans forward to catch a glimpse of her phone. A picture of Nightwave and some civilian in a selfie take up her screen, face covered by a dark cowl with blackout lenses, costume all bedazzled and flashy. Robert scoffs. Yeah, he recognized Nightwave; He’d been an ‘up and coming’ hero from a few years ago who mostly did publicity and no actual fighting. One of those Hollywood Heroes. He feels his nose wrinkling, leaning back. Malevola’s hand shifts against his shoulder with the movement.
“I think the fact that I don’t have veneers should also be taken into account, but thanks.”
Prisms doesn’t acknowledge what he says, typing into her phone some more before she’s visibly clicking on something, angling the screen so they can all see it. ‘I Need A Hero S6 E4 - Nightwaves Breakdown’ is the title that flashes by, before the video she’s hit play on immediately jumps into the hero in the middle of crying. Mal leans down next to him to watch, arm looping around his shoulders. He tries to ignore how the firm press of her arm against his neck inexplicably eases the pain in it.
“It’s just unfair!” A tiny, nasally voice sobs. Robert cringes. “I haven’t done anything wrong! It just- it sucks, I have so much to offer. What's not to like? I’m nice! I’m good looking! I’m, objectively, the best option any of them have. No one’s as funny, I offer intelligent conversation, I’m- “
“Okay, that’s enough,” Prism is also cringing, swiping out of the video. “Woo, that boy has got some issues. White knight much?”
“Probably because he’s the hero equivalent to an industry plant,” Robert rolls his eyes, adjusting Beefs weight in his lap. Mal stands straight again but doesn’t remove her arm, claws fiddling with his shirt collar. What are you doing? He wants to ask. Why are you touching me? He honestly can’t tell if she’s just being overly friendly or if she’s planning on choking him out. It was getting hard to tell with all of Z-Team, considering the non-existent boundaries and HR violations stacking up.
“Ooh you know some tea?” Prism’s eyes light up, literally and figuratively, her visor reflecting a smattering of blue-pink fractals.
“No, I’ve just been a hero long enough to tell,”He grunts, opening the to-go bag next to him and setting his little paper tray of fries inside.
“So you’ve been in it for a while, huh?” Malevola is staring down at him with those pools of yellow, smirking. The sun halos her head, shadows carving sharp lines into her face. “What else?”
“I’m still not giving you any hints.”
“Well, at least we know he’s not tall, dark and whiny” Prism stands, shaking her phone around. She waves her hand at him dismissively. “That was hella cringe. I only like my men crying in bed.”
“No one needed to know that,” Robert sighs, closing his eyes. What was wrong with them? Like, actually.
“I feel like most heroes who do lots of publicity are fake.” Malevola throws in, thigh firmly pressed along Roberts arm. Claws catch against his ear- the one missing a chunk- and he flinches away from it. Her hand immediately diverts back to fiddling with his shirt collar. Not quite an apology, but at least she was aware enough to tell he didn’t enjoy that. “Like, a few interviews or appearances is cool, but being constantly on TV or social media? Red flag.”
“Isn’t Prism an internet celebrity? Are you saying she’s fake?” Robert’s voice is dry, one eyebrow raising as he watches said woman's mouth drop open indignantly in real time.
“Bitch, nothing about me is fake! I’m raw talent, all natural, original,” pin pricks of light dance off her skin, turning the gleam of her arms cuffs into bright flashes that cause spots to appear in his vision. Both him and Mal wince simultaneously. “I run my own shit, I don’t got some lame ass bitches in my ear telling me what to do.”
“I mean, you kind of do,” Mal points at him. Robert stares blankly. Beef yaps.
“Hah,” Prisms huffs, arms crossing. Her visor spins in technicolor. “He wishes he was in charge of me.”
“That’s literally my job,” Robert replies, deadpan.
“I didn’t mean it like that anyways,” Malevola interrupts, tail appearing out of nowhere to curl in front of Beef’s face. He’s immediately entertained by it, butt wiggling happily. “I know you run all your own stuff. I was just saying, the way media is done with well known heroes? All bloody dress up. I think Blazer’s the only one who has genuine press conferences anymore.”
“Nah, remember that one what’s his face did a week ago? Shit, Mecha Man..? The one who kicked Flambae’s ass?” Prism's light show dies down, but Robert only gets tenser. His fingers tighten in Beef’s fur, shoulders stiff under the weight of Malevola’s arm. “He curb stomped the fuck out of that one reporter! Which was deserved. What kinda person brings up someone’s dead family like that? Shit was out of pocket. I was surprised tinman got away with it though, I for sure thought he was gonna get arrested.”
“That’s because Mecha Man’s an actual hero, babes,” Malevola’s tail flicks Beefs nose gently, and then Roberts, which makes him scowl. He bats it away. “The get down and dirty kind. Even Blazer has some strings, but him? No one wants to fuck with the person who’s kept almost all of LA County safe for over a decade without getting a salary.”
“What are you, a super fan or somethin’?” Prism teases, opening her phone to start typing. Robert breathes carefully, trying to ignore how that street interview video starts looping through his head, over and over.
He was the last of the good ones.
“I was curious, so I did some digging after Punch Up and Coop talked about Crypto-Nite,” Malevola shrugs. “Wanted to know how ‘just a guy’ took out Flambae without even trying. Guy’s on that good old heroics shit.”
Last of the old gaurd.
“Flambae would’ve won if he just stopped peacockin’,” Prism complains, suddenly turning so her back faces them, bodysuit shimmering. She raises her phone into the air, angling it carefully.
A real fucking hero-
“Smile for the insta!” She yells loudly. Robert flinches, eyes widening as his gaze refocuses. Malevola presses in right against him, squeezing his shoulders while holding up a rock n’ roll sign, sticking out her tongue. Beef sits up in his arms, woofing excitedly.
Camera shutters click by repeatedly, then Prisms refacing them. Mal eases her grip and stands tall, reaching down to boop Beef on the nose. Robert blinks. His brain feels like it’s lagging behind.
“Damn, we look pretty cute. Minus mister dispatcher, he’s lookin’ a little, uh.. scared.” Prism steps closer to show off one of the photos, a smirk playing on her metallic lips.
The blazing California sun sends orbs of light scattered down one side of the picture. They catch Prism’s visor, the technacolor visible with how her face takes up the lower left corner. Him, Malevola, and Beef are squeezed into the other side; Mal’s bulk nearly cut off screen, all sharp teeth and bright yellow eyes. Her skin glows an otherworldly red, arm slung around him tightly. He’s hunched under the weight of it, pulled in towards her with a wide eyed, flat look. Beef is happy as can be, tongue lolled out of his mouth.
Robert’s chest aches. He doesn’t know why.
“..It’s okay though,” Prism is talking, zooming in and out on their faces. “Fits your whole vibe, y’know? Very Bambi core.”
“Awwe, yeah,” Malevola coos, and sharp claws poke as his cheek, “Bambi. I love that movie.”
Prism and Malevola are saying more, but all Robert can do is stare when the former zooms in on his face. Wide brown eyes and lips pressed thinly together. Uneven freckles and deep set eyebags. The sun catches on the edge of his scarred ear.
A real fucking hero, huh.
Sparks fly past Roberts vision in small bursts, a low crackling sound sitting between his ears. There’s an arc of green light, blinding in its intensity. It crawls along molten metal, glowing like the sun.
A blinding star in a sea of darkness.
“Heard the team’s scuffling with the Red Ring.” Chase grunts from where he sits across from him.
“They run half the crime in the county,” Roberts voice sounds like it's underwater with the way his welding hood muffles it. The ladder he’s sitting on digs into his back roughly as he bends to get a good angle. The ache in his neck has been gone since Malevola portaled him and Prism back to SDN, but there’s a phantom sensation lingering. Like it could return any minute. “We were bound to bother them at some point.”
The star moves, light disappearing in a trail behind it. He adjusts against the ladder.
“Watch yourself. You poke the hive, you’re gonna have to fuck the queen.”
Robert stops welding before Chase even finishes his sentence. The visor lightens until everything’s a swamp green, Roberts head lifting to stare pointedly at the older man. Chase is mid hand-off with Beef, a French fry hanging from his fingers. Neither of them bother looking guilty.
Robert starts shaking his head. “That’s not how bees work.”
“You know what I mean,” Chase waves him off. Robert is getting a little tired of that being people's default reaction to him.
“I don’t, actually. No one’s trying to fuck Shroud..” Robert looks up, and that green arc of light is back when he reignites his welding torch, the world plunging into darkness. Someone getting it on with Shroud was a mental image he did not need. That was going into his nightmare blunt rotation of things he’d rather jump off his balcony before imagining. He sighs through his nose.
“But if we kill the queen, we rot the hive.”
There’s a long moment of silence. Beef’s collar jangles. The star in his vision flickers, sparks dancing as it moves like a comet through the dark.
“You would do that? Kill Shroud?”
Robert doesn’t answer. Chase keeps going.
“Cause you might get the chance, and you don’t wanna go in there having to think about it.”
The star dies. The sparks disappear.
“You gotta know.”
When Robert looks up, Chase is staring at him through murky green, face grim. His hands are planted on his knees as he leans forward in his chair. Beef is laying at his feet, snuffling.
Blurred memories skip by; A younger Chase, grinning without a care, no Track Star suit in sight and all the youth he used to have. His dad is next to him, bulky and tall, laughing so hard at something the beer in his hand is spilling. His arm is wrapped tightly around a third figure- a lanky man, with thick curls and ice blue eyes. He’s smiling too, but it’s less obvious. His eyes are sharp.
Kind.
Robert blinks. His chest burns.
“I’m not sure..” he admits. Sewer sludge sticks to his tongue as he sits up, flipping the welding hood. Murky green is replaced with muted blues and grays, and the bright yellow of Chase’s sweater. He holds his gaze. “Just gonna have to wait and see, I guess.”
“Just think about it,” Chase’s voice is low, careful. He’s squinting at him now, head tilting. “You wanna be sure.”
The ladder rattles as Robert climbs down it, hooking the torch he was using on it before making his way over to Chase. He peels his gloves off slowly, tossing them onto the table next to the opened In-N-Out bag the other man has been pulling fries out of. He reaches in to steal one.
“I’m serious, fucker.” The crumpled wrapper from Chase’s burger nails him in the face, flinching half a second late as the projectile bounces and then drops to the floor. He snatches it up quickly before Beef can try and eat it.
“I know, Jesus, what the fuck is with people and throwing things..” the words are muttered under his breath as he pulls up a second chair. It creaks under his weight, swiveling to face the man next to him.
Chase is staring off distantly, eyes on the Mecha Man suit suspended in air, weld marks marring its face. He lets out a heavy breath, narrow shoulders shifting.
“It’s a fuckin’ relay race, kid.” His voice dips, rough with age. “This Hero versus Villain bullshit. Good versus evil. Right versus wrong. We’re all just passing the same crap on and on, running in circles.”
Robert hums, watching him. His stare doesn’t waver from the Mecha Man suit.
“I’m out of the race now, but you’re still in it. Don’t start falling fuckin’ behind, you got that? Keep up. Don’t get buried in that shit. You’ll make the right decision. You always have.”
Chase is looking at him, not the Mecha Man suit. Robert blinks, swallowing down the ache in his ribs.
“Thanks, unc.”
The older man smirks, kicking at his shin lightly. “Mecha Man’s coming back to life one patch at a time.”
Robert’s lips twitch. “One patch at a time.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“I mean, Royd’s doin’ most of the work though right?”
“Sooo much,” Robert huffs, waving at the suit, “He’s probably gonna redo all this shit.”
Chase barks out a laugh.
Robert's phone screen is a spot of light in the dark of his apartment. It lays abandoned on the ground next to him, flashing as a video plays on screen. He’s traded out his work clothes for a ratty hoodie and pair of joggers, knees curled up to his chest. He stares blankly, the blurred colors over the edge of his phone case flashing as his temple rests against the cool floor.
Beef has snuggled himself into the backs of his knees, happy to sleep there as long as his owner didn’t move. The little dog doesn’t even react to the dull scraping sound mixing with the chatter of the video playing.
Razor edged metal glints in his hand. Coops blade pricks his pointer finger where he holds it between the digit and the floor, twisting it around and around. It flips between reflecting his face and his poor decorating skills.
It wasn’t a bad day. Really, it wasn’t. Despite being interrogated by an ex-assassin, buying lunch for Mal only for that to also turn into an interrogation too, people throwing shit at his head, and his team's general need for chaos, it was.. good. Both shifts went alarmingly well with no hiccups. No interruptions. And the pain in his neck never came back.
It was a good day.
Robert eyes the spinning blade, feeling the sting as he presses his finger harder into the end of it.
You would do that? Kill shroud?
His reflections warps, tired eyes staring back. His finger digs hard enough into the weapon that blood slowly trickles down its edge. It stops spinning.
Killing Shroud felt like fulfilling a promise. Completing a goal.
Staying true to himself.
But would it hurt when he did it?
Did it hurt Elliot, when he killed his Dad?
Robert stares at his reflection. The trail of blood cuts right across his eyes.
The video on his phone plays on, a droning backdrop of noise he’s zoned out.
“-ice to meet you Camille! I’m Gary. This is our last interview of the day, so let’s get into it! Today we’re asking about Life Without Mech Man. How do you feel about the fact that for the first time in almost 50 years we don’t have a Mecha Man protecting the greater Los Angeles area?”
Camille is an old, frail looking woman. She’s got narrow glasses and a slicked back bun of gray hair. The hoops in her ears glint as she nods at Gary Boseman with a smile.
“Ah, of course. Mecha Man.. it’s a shame, really. Makes you feel a little more lonely out here.”
“Lonely in what way?” Gary Boseman doesn’t falter, spinning questions to get more answers.
“Well, it’s like having a ball that comes back no matter how far you throw it. When it doesn’t, it leaves you feeling a little hollow, right?”
“Oh, I guess so..?”
“I hope he comes back,” Camille continues, and her eyes are a deep blue when she looks at the camera. The smile on her face is calm. “He was good to us, The third Mecha Man. Oh, but my grandkids- they say their generation’s given him a name, like the previous ones. Ah, dang it, what’s it.. they call him, uh- oh! It’s Apollo. That’s it.”
“Oh wow! I don’t think we’ve heard this before. Really?”
“Yes, it’s an interesting name, isn’t it? Apollo.”
Notes:
wooaahhh you made it to the end? really? that’s crazyyyy
um please tell me if the name reveal is cringe or not? I literally couldn’t tell but I wanted roberts mecha man to have a name like how his father and his grandfather had ones. If it’s cringe I might take it out cause the chapter still works without it :|
EDIT: just learned they called him mecha man blue, I’m so deadass I didn’t remember that. I’m keeping apollo lmfao
another thing just in case someone is wondering: I took out the blackout scene from ep 5! I’m going to use it later on so it’s still story relevant, but it didn’t happen like in the game.
thanks for reading!! and for anyone coming back thank you for your patience!! I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations <3
(^^ no specific order but I’m titling all chapters after songs in it)
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CouldBeABird on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 06:17AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 10 Nov 2025 06:18AM UTC
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lucerneater on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 07:24AM UTC
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CouldBeABird on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 01:15PM UTC
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Beastomorph on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 06:36AM UTC
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Sea_of_Imagination on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 06:41AM UTC
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m00nb0wz on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 06:50AM UTC
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Lethotep on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 06:53AM UTC
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lucerneater on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 07:30AM UTC
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yarren on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 07:24AM UTC
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lucerneater on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 07:30AM UTC
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Muff_Glove on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 07:54AM UTC
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soapiemomorphine on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 08:43AM UTC
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diademanda on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 12:07PM UTC
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RottenBones on Chapter 1 Mon 10 Nov 2025 01:56PM UTC
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