Chapter Text
“Is Mecha Man a Mecha quitter?” the news anchor gazed into the camera, raising his eyebrows vexingly as he questioned the audience. Robert watched the man in his light brown suit turn to shove the microphone into the face of a random street interview.
Robert took a long draft of whiskey, finishing the little flask. His mind was growing fuzzy around the edges and his limbs felt warmth pooling in them.
“Yeah, I mean, it seems like it’d be better if he died than be a mecha coward, you know? What kind of example is he setting?” the sleep-eyed teen questioned rhetorically.
The news anchor reappeared on screen to drop a “Stay tuned to find out” cliff-hanger to the interview.
Then the window of the TV display that Robert was watching the TV through shattered. He stared at the broken glass for a moment, then turned to his left as a man wearing a green ski mask walked up beside Robert. The man pulled the TV out of the display while his companions, all wearing different colored ski masks, worked on smashing the rest of the display and loading the stolen TVs into a delivery truck.
Robert sighed. He pulled his Mecha Man mask out of his jacket and looked at it for a moment. Then, he looked back at the thugs who were still loading the truck. His father’s figure flashed through his mind.
The better Mecha Man. He would’ve stopped them.
With a huffing breath, Robert one-handedly pulled the mask over his head—one-handed since his left arm was in a sling.
He might be the worst of the Mecha Mans, but Robert still tried to uphold the family legacy.
“Hey, assholes,” Mecha Man called. Red and purple ski-mask-wearing thugs in the back of the truck paused in moving the cargo as they looked up at him. The purple one pointed questioningly at themself with wide eyes.
“Yeah, all you assholes. I was watching that.” Mecha Man said as he watched the yellow-ski-mask that was sitting in the driver seat looking back at him through the truck’s side mirror.
“Who you calling assholes, asshole?” the red-ski-mask replied, offended.
Orange-ski-mask came out from the display window and held up a hand to red-ski-mask, who looked like he wanted to jump out of the truck. “I’ll handle this idiot. Keep loading the stuff. You got thirty seconds then we’re outta here,” orange-ski-mask said to the two loading the truck, then turning to Mecha Man, “And who the fuck are you?” He flipped the crowbar over in his hand as he started walking towards Mecha Man menacingly.
Mecha Man calmly removed his jacket and tossed it to the ground without replying. “Yeah, you. Standing there like go go hobo ranger. Who the fuck are you?”
“Right now, I’m someone with nothing to lose. That’s probably bad news for you,” Mecha Man replied. Somewhere in his mind he knew he could just call the cops, that would be better than getting into a five-v-one street fight.
But no one makes good decisions once they’ve reached the bottom of the bottle. Especially not Mecha Man who had just announced his retirement from hero-work—the only life he’d known since his father died 15 years ago.
Orange-ski-mask chuckled while looking at Mecha Man’s arm sling, “What happened? You fell from a tree saving a kitten, hobo ranger?” He was standing right in front of Mecha Man now—just a crowbar’s length away.
“It was two kittens actually,” Mecha Man replied dryly.
“You one cocky shit. You got a whole lot of things you can lose y’know. How ‘bout I break your other arm to match?” Orange-ski-mask snarled threateningly.
Mecha Man regarded the thug with bland eyes. He stood on the street as if he were chatting with the thieves rather than about to get into a fight. Mecha Man just couldn’t work up the spirit to raise his one available fist into a fighting stance.
I guess I don’t have the strength to even emulate Dad anymore.
“One arm’s enough to deal with a pack of skittles-looking idiots like you,” Mecha Man replied instead of correcting the thug. Although his left arm had been broken, it healed and the cast was taken off a few weeks ago. It just needed the sling now while his shoulder ligaments healed from the dislocation.
“Y’know, losing a few teeth might keep you from opening that dumbass mouth. I’ll do the dental work for free because I’m feeling generous.” Orange-ski grumbled as he jabbed Mecha Man’s shoulder with the end of the crowbar. “You’d learn not to pick fights with guys that know which hand every punch is gonna come from—" just as orange-ski jabbed Mecha Man’s shoulder again, Mecha Man threw a punch with his left hand—the one in a sling. Mecha Man knew the thug wasn’t going to expect that.
And he didn’t.
Mecha Man left fist crunched against orange-ski-mask’s nose. He felt his shoulder pop out of the joint from the collision. Pain sharp enough to make him gasp raced up his arm and down his spine. His left arm fell limply to his side, free of the sling. Orange-ski-mask fell backwards onto the asphalt, blood seeping from his nose and mouth. He groaned and rocked himself on the ground.
Mecha Man was still reeling from the pain in his left arm when red-ski-mask jumped down from the truck. The hulking thug ran at Mecha Man then swung his fist.
Mecha Man barely blocked the blow with his right arm but couldn’t manage to dodge the kick that came next.
Mecha Man was thrown onto his back, where he was quickly overtaken by all of the thugs. He braced his right arm beside his head and clenched his abdomen as he curled onto his left side. At first Mecha Man tried to kick out their legs, but after several bone-bruising leg-stomps he soon chose to endure the beating and protect his vital points instead.
Should’ve just called in a tip and left.
After a few seconds of the beating, a low roaring sound started to grow. It was the sound of something moving so fast that it broke the sound barrier. This created a Doppler effect for those standing in front of it as the frequency of the sound waves were compressed by the force of object.
The thugs ignored the sound at first—LA has lots of aircraft and flying superheroes that cause the sound all the time. By the time they realized it was heading towards them it was too late.
With an obnoxious blast of air that sent street trash flying, a hero appeared in the navy sky above Reasonable Gideon’s Television Store. His cape flowed behind him and Mecha Man blearily followed the movement with his eyes.
“Greetings vagrants. I have been sent to detain you. Please refrain from assaulting the oddly clothed subscribber.” The hero’s voice was pitched low and brought warmth to the ears of listeners.
The thugs looked up at him speechlessly. One fisted Mecha Man’s collar and had an arm raised to punch him. Two others were mid-kick, with one foot pressing on Mecha Man’s ankle and another jabbing into his back.
The superhero was floating above the streetlight, so it was hard to see him clearly. The thugs hadn’t decided if the hero was worth fighting or if they should be hauling ass.
“Is there difficulty complying?” the hero asked after no one responded to him.
“Another rent-a-hero. You gonna introduce yourself or stay floating there in the dark?” Green-ski-mask shouted back.
Green-ski-mask, and two others turned to face the hidden hero, while the last two kept Mecha Man pinned. The hero lowered into the range of light from the streetlamp. The brilliant red cape and boots dipped into the yellow light first, then the rest of the hero’s form was slowly revealed.
He wore red boots trimmed with yellow, a dark blue bodysuit that hugged every inch of exaggerated muscle, a red belt that cinched his waist, and a large red collar from which hung his long red cape. Except for red arm guards plated with steel wrist cuffs, his impressive arms were bare. His dark brown hair was neatly combed away from his face despite having flown here at Mach 1.
“Apologies. I forgot human eyes are underdeveloped. I assumed you could see me.” He smiled genially beneath his neatly trimmed mustache with the arrogance of a globally recognized hero.
Yellow-ski-mask reacted first, “Holy shit that’s Phenomaman!” he shrieked.
It took another second before the information wormed its way into the other thugs’ hippocampi.
Phenomaman.
An alien.
An elite hero that worked at the downtown LA branch of SDN.
No, not just an elite hero, a superhero.
There was a storm of cursing as they fled for their truck. Phenomaman floated down beside Mecha Man who was slowly uncurling himself. Yellow-ski-mask and orange-ski-mask scrambled into the front cab, while the rest climbed into the back and slammed the roll-down door shut.
“Hello, I am Phenomaman. I was sent to answer your distress call. I must apprehend your assailants before offering you further assistance. Excuse me.”
Just as yellow-ski-mask stomped on the gas, Phenomaman flashed to the back of the truck and grabbed the bumper. The tires squealed against the asphalt and grey smoke wafted from them, filling the air with the smell of burnt rubber.
The truck did not move an inch from Phenomaman.
The hero then lifted the truck off the ground. There was the sound of something crashing as well as unintelligible cursing as the TVs in the back shifted and probably collapsed on the three thugs inside.
Mecha Man leaned into a sitting position. He swiped the back of his right hand under his bleeding nose to stop the blood dripping into his mouth. His left arm lay at an awkward angle, the sharp pain from it radiating across his entire left side.
“Hello Tamara, will LAPD arrive promptly? The subscribber has been injured and requires medical assistance.” Phenomaman said, as if he was speaking to someone not present. Mecha Man assumed he had a communication line with his ‘handler.’
“Are you trying to say subscriber? Like, as in SDN subscribers?” Was the first thing Mecha Man said.
Phenomaman looked back at him. “No, I believe it is pronounced subscribber.”
Mecha Man noticed the doors of the front cab were opening. “You might want to lift that higher,” he said. The two thieves probably wanted to jump out.
“Hm? Oh, I see they are making a feeble attempt at escape. Excellent use of your underdeveloped eyesight.” Phenomaman replied as he flew himself and the truck just above the store sign. “This should be sufficient deterrence—”
It was not.
Yellow-ski-mask jumped out of the driver’s seat from about 10 feet. His ankle rolled as he fell, and he crumpled to the ground with a shriek. In his panic he hobbled to one foot and started frantically limping away.
“And instantly I feel a whole lot better.” Mecha Man chuckled as the flashing red and blue lights of the LAPD bounced off the buildings a few streets over.
“Do you think that would be considered as a ‘self-inflicted injury’? I have been told to reduce the number of incident reports my dispatcher files.” Phenomaman looked concerned.
“He’s the idiot that jumped. It’s not like you shook him out of it.” Mecha Man replied as he draped his jacket over his shoulders. He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and tested his weight on both ankles. Thankfully, he didn’t share yellow-ski-mask’s injury. Besides the dislocated shoulder, he probably just had a lot of bruises.
“I see. Thank you for your perspective.”
Within about thirty seconds the police cars arrayed themselves around the thief who had only managed to limp a few feet away from where he landed. Phenomaman set the truck down in the middle of the police formation and the thugs were quickly arrested.
Mecha Man started to walk away, but stopped, hissing in pain as the muscles of his abdomen stretched with the movement. He stood still for a moment, breathing through the fiery pain that shot up his spine.
“Hooo—okay a lot of bruises and maybe a cracked rib,” he said to himself. Gingerly he pressed the spot where the pain was the worst with his fingers. He flinched as his nerves felt like they caught fire just from the light pressure. “Damn.”
“Phenomaman!” called someone from across the street. Even though they weren’t calling him, Mecha Man turned his gaze toward the voice. He saw a middle-aged woman waving out of her second-story apartment at the hero. “I was the one who called! I can’t believe SDN sent you! Can I have an autograph?” She shouted, hanging half her body out the window in excitement.
“I would be happy to comply!” Phenomaman replied, floating over to her.
Mecha Man turned his gaze away. He held his right hand across his side and endured the pain as he walked away. He was almost at the end of the block when Mecha Man felt an abnormal breeze behind him. Turning his head slightly, he glimpsed the red cape fluttering in his peripheral vision.
“You are injured. I will bring you to the infirmary!” The superhero said. Just as Mecha Man turned to look at Phenomaman, he found himself being carried into the man’s arms.
“Woah, hang on! Fuck!” Mecha Man clenched his teeth from the pain of being jostled. “Put me down!” He said as his right hand pushed against the hero’s chest.
“Do not be alarmed. I have not seen you at my SDN branch, so I mistook you for a civilian wearing a costume. With my speed we will reach SDN headquarters momentarily.”
“Phenomaman, I can handle it myself. Please let go of me.” Mecha Man asked the man, knowing he had no chance of breaking free on his own.
“I have no other means to carry you, injured hero. The Los Angeles SDN has an infirmary that will fix all of your broken things. It is included in your benefits package!” With that, Phenomaman launched them into the sky.
“Hoooly shit!” Mecha Man shouted as he was forced to close his eyes due to the sudden torrent of cold air. His right hand clenched onto Phenomaman’s collar to find some semblance of security in the weightlessness.
After the exhilarating takeoff, the force of the wind decreased as Phenomaman flew at a steadier pace. Mech Man took a few steadying breaths before releasing Phenomaman’s uniform and looked down at the city zipping by beneath.
“Is the experience of flight terrifying to you? I presumed all humans had lost the instinct to fear leaving the ground. You have invented many machines to accomplish it.” The superhero asked concerned.
“I’ve flown before, but never like this. It’s…different,” Mecha Man replied feeling a little dazed. Flying in the Mecha Man suit was nothing like this. Even in a dead-stick landing, as he’d done twice in his career, he was surrounded by two tons of metal. There was an inherent feeling of security that came with flying a mecha, as opposed to being carried in his hero-suit.
“I see. I have always felt constrained in the flying machines. I did not understand why they were so bulky. But now I realize they must be a comfort to your feeble bodies.”
“Letting everyone take a week off to sail across the Atlantic was a little inefficient.” Mecha Man replied, slowly relaxing into the superhero’s arms. He wasn’t about to throw a fit three hundred feet above the ground and the pain of his everything was beyond distracting.
Phenomaman was warm. Very warm. Mecha Man felt like he was lying on a hearth.
“So, it is efficiency that humans desire with their nonsensical inventions. How fascinating!”
Before now Mecha Man only had the vague understanding that Phenomaman was an alien. He’d heard of the hero, but they’d never met before so Mecha Man’s impression of him was a bland ‘excellent.’
Phenomaman looked no different than a normal—albeit ridiculously large—human man, so it was a common misconception that he acted like any other human. SDN capitalized on the heroes whose appearances were the most in-line with human aesthetics—Phenomaman being the poster boy of a successful SDN hero.
Mecha Man and Phenomaman had never crossed paths before, so he never thought about what it would be like to interact with an alien. Now, he knows it goes something like this:
“Hey, thanks for the help, but you can put me down now.” Mecha Man said, noticing they just passed an ER. He just had to get a shoulder reduction then he could find his way home. He was sure his ribs were fine enough to heal on their own.
“But you are injured. It would not be very heroic of me to leave an injured hero behind.”
“Then just take me home.” Mecha Man knew there was a 24-hour urgent care within walking distance of his apartment. “I don’t need to go to the SDN infirmary. I don’t think I’m allowed to, actually.”
“A hero not allowed to receive their SDN benefits? Are you suspended from your team?”
“No, I don’t work for SDN.”
“That is impossible. If you are not an SDN employee, how do you receive compensation for your heroic deeds?” Phenomaman was confused.
“I don’t. Mecha Man has never been paid,” Mecha Man sighed in response.
“Mecha Man? You are Mecha Man?” Phenomaman glanced at the hero and probably just noticed the ‘M’ insignia. “You are smaller than I expected.”
“Yeah. I suppose you didn’t recognize me without the 20-foot tall blue mecha.”
“No, I did not. Where is your mechanical suit? You would not have been so badly injured if your puny body was inside it.”
“Wrecked beyond repair.” Mecha Man said mildly. He burned through his inheritance over the past decade just to keep it running. Now, there was nothing left. Not to mention the most important piece—the Astral Pulse—was destroyed in the crash.
“That is…unfortunate.” Phenomaman replied. “When I arrived on this planet seven years ago, I heard many stories of Mecha Man and the Brave Brigade. You are unexpectedly young. I imagined you with less elastic skin.”
Mecha Man laughed a little, then quickly regretted it as the pain flared up from the movement. “The Brave Brigade was before my time as Mecha Man. There was two Mecha Mans before me. The stories you heard were probably about them.”
“I see. A legacy of heroes. That is an honorable mantle.”
“And it ends with me.” Mecha Man sighed. He saw they passed over another ER. He couldn’t seem to find the off switch to this ride.
“Seriously, Phenomaman. I want you to put me down.”
“We are almost to SDN headquarters Mecha Man. Please endure for—”
“Phenomaman. Down. Now.” Mecha Man grabbed the hero’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes. The slate-grey eyes analyzed Mecha Man’s chocolate brown for a moment. Then, the superhero slowed down, then stopped.
They floated in the night sky. The bright white ‘SDN DTLA’ sign glowed against a tall black building in the distance. “Why are you refusing medical treatment? Is this self-destructive behavior? Do you need—”
“Stop,” Mecha Man held up his hand. “I don’t want to walk through a building full of heroes. I’m done with that life, tonight was a mistake. I’m going to an ER just like every other normal person does.”
“A hero is not a ‘normal person.’ You have a hidden identity,” Phenomaman pointed out.
“Then I’ll strip behind a dumpster and walk into the ER in my underwear,” Mecha Man replied half-seriously. Phenomaman looked perplexed. He opened his mouth to say something else when Mecha Man covered it with his gloved hand. “No. No more talking. Just…put me down. There.” He said, pointing at an urgent care clinic.
Phenomamam hesitated before reluctantly lowering them to the alley next to the clinic. Mecha Man moved his hand away from the hero’s mouth.
“I do not like this,” Phenomaman said as he let Mecha Man’s legs touch to the ground. Mecha Man stepped out of the hero’s embrace.
“In life there are things we don’t like but we have to accept anyway,” Mecha Man replied. “Thank you for…the help.”
Even if he was now an hour cab ride from home.
“I was fulfilling my duty, but your gratitude is appreciated.” The superhero said. He turned and took a few steps away from Mecha Man, then paused. He turned back and said, “I am certain the other Mecha Mans stories are often told because you remind people of them. My understanding of human memory is that without a reminder, many memories are forgotten. Your Mecha Man must have inspired their memory.” Phenomaman said.
Mecha Man was struck by the sudden recognition of his efforts over the years. It was such a simple thing, to be told you were an equal to your predecessors, but it was something Mecha Man had never heard before.
“Is that so…” Mecha Man looked away, his voice growing a little hoarse.
“I hope to see the blue mecha fly again someday. Goodbye Mecha Man.” Phenomaman said waving. Then he launched into the sky, disappearing almost instantly.
Robert pulled off his mask and scrubbed at his hair sighing. He pulled the zipper out of its pocket over his throat and unzipped the top half of his blue full bodysuit. Only the top had the conspicuous gold ‘M’ emblazoned on it.
He gritted his teeth as he pulled his dislocated left arm out of the sleeve. Beads of sweat lined his forehead by the time he finished. He wore a light grey tank-top underneath the suit. Tying off the sleeves around his waist with a jacket draped over his arm, Robert looked like any other construction worker. Complete with strange scars on his arms and probably a broken nose.
Not to mention the smell of whiskey on his breath.
Robert held a hand up to his mouth trying to smell his breath as he walked into the urgent care center. Thankfully, the alcohol scent wasn’t too strong. That would’ve been embarrassing if Phenomaman had to endure his breath that entire time.
Those hooded slate-grey eyes flashed across his mind. Robert inadvertently smiled to himself.
Foolish.