Chapter Text
The second he opened his eyes, Robert could tell it was going to be one of those days. And by that he meant he was going to have to try extra hard to not throw himself in front of a bus. His head felt as though someone packed it with cotton to mute its pulsing but he could still practically hear the cartilage in his joints grinding against each other. It seemed to take all of his energy to turn his head so he could see the time.
8:17. Of course.
Groaning, he gently nudged a sleeping Beef off his chest then pushed off his concrete floor to sit up. He allowed himself to breathe for a few more seconds before he had to start getting ready to head over to SDN.
His eyes drifted, reluctantly, to the futon pressed against the far wall. Blazer had squeezed it inside with Chase on the night of his housewarming, smiling easily the whole way, insisting he deserved something better than concrete.
He hadn’t touched it since.
The truth was, he wanted to save it. For something important. Evidently, collapsing for a few hours between shifts didn’t qualify. It felt wrong to sink into something soft when the day ahead would demand him back, aching and unearned. The floor, at least, met him where he already was.
He finally got up and quickly filled Beef’s bowl before brushing his teeth and changing into his work uniform. Even after repairing the Mecha armor, Robert felt more comfortable shrugging on the thin blue button-up rather than his suit. The latter, after all these years, after winning and losing countless battles, after defeating Shroud with the Z-Team, still carried with it too many memories packed into something he was supposed to wear like second skin.
That was why, after the big fight, he’d stayed on as dispatcher. Mecha Man only came out after hours now, when SDN was quiet and the expectations lower.
Blazer had made the contracting process with the company as smooth as possible, adding to the guilt about the untouched futon. To be fair, he did use it for Beef and any guests (i.e. the occasional Z-teamer that wrestled their way in unannounced). He just couldn’t bring himself to use it. It was easier to say that the floor was temporary than to unpack why softness felt undeserved.
It was also easy to direct others to the therapy facilities available at SDN specifically geared towards superheroes. He gave them out like bus routes—practiced and impersonal. He never once followed them himself. Years of immense pressure, constant public scrutiny, physical strain that he never really let heal, and virtually no time for real relationships on top of a lack of family and support, unsurprisingly, did not do wonders for his body and mind.
He knew that. But while acknowledging it was easy, doing something about it felt dangerous. These feelings were a familiar part of him, at least. Familiar meant safe, and manageable.
A nudge against his foot dragged him out of his thoughts. Robert glanced down to find Beef staring up at him with his tail slowly wagging, as if he was happily reminding him of the good in his life. It was nice to know that Beef would curl up next to him wherever he slept.
“You’re right,” he murmured. Let’s head out before I start thinking too hard.”
After grabbing Beef’s leash and his work bag, Robert looked back as he fumbled with his door chain.
“Maybe we can bring back some posters from work, yeah?” Robert hesitated. “Or is covering your bare walls with your coworkers’ faces generally frowned upon?”
Beef sneezed.
“… Yeah. Probably creepy.”
***
Chase was the first familiar face to appear when he stepped into the lobby.
“Beef! There you are—I missed you so much, baby boy!”
Robert snorted. “First of all, I’m doing great, thanks for asking. Second, you literally saw him yesterday.”
“Okay, smartass. First of all, I can already tell how you’re doing, you look like shit. Second, shut up and hand him over, I’ll bring him up to the office later.”
Robert carefully passed Beef off. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Chase.”
The older man waved him away, already cooing at Beef. Seeing Chase back to his usual self stirred another pulse of gratitude in Robert for Blazer. She and SDN’s medical team were able to ease the amulet off of Chase while restoring the health he had lost saving Invisigal. He really ought to get her something for everything she’s done and continues to do, although some days he suspects dealing with the Z-Team is payback enough.
A sharp pain shot up his back as he walked toward the elevators. He hoped it wasn’t from something as simple as picking Beef up, though the chihuahua was quite heavy. Robert squeezed his eyes shut and silently begged that no one had touched his stash of painkillers in the break room.
And that Mr. Whiskey hadn’t spiked the coffee just yet. If he was lucky, he might make it through the morning shift only moderately miserable.
When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, a brief lookover showed that it was already half full. The people were talking over one another, their voices bouncing off the metal walls. Suppressing a groan, Robert grimaced and stepped inside.
Peace and quiet were rare in the building, even before the first shift officially started.
The doors closed, and the box lurched as it began its slow ascent.
Someone shifted behind him.
At the second floor, more people stepped in—including Mr. Whiskey.
Good. That meant Robert still had the chance to beat him to the coffee pot.
Unfortunately, it also meant there was now considerably less space in the elevator, and the air quickly grew warm and stale. Robert willed the wretched box to keep moving until it reached his office floor, which meant, of course, that it stopped two more times. The universe had never been particularly cooperative with Robert, and it didn’t seem interested in changing that anytime soon.
Robert managed to stand his ground and not fall into anyone else despite being pushed from all sides, but his migraine throbbed harder with every second. His back screamed its displeasure. He started to consider bribing Malevola into portalling him everywhere. Stepping through a flaming rift right onto his office chair seemed much more preferable to dying of asphyxiation under some corporate Sharkboy-Lavagirl crowd.
Just as he was deciding that he would be better off asking her to just drop him off in hell, the body behind him shifted once again. Robert had to actively stop himself from instinctively grabbing at the arm that slid its way past his left side. It splayed a firm palm on the back of the man in front of him, who had been vividly acting out a fight from the night before to a friend, and, in turn, was pushing quite far into Robert’s space. Or what was left of it, anyways.
The man in question briefly turned around to nod an embarrassed apology over Robert’s head, before turning back and continuing his conversation at a considerably lower intensity.
Robert felt his lungs expand with the newly acquired air and his visions of burning in hell melted away.
Grateful but curious, Robert eased out another breath before slowly turning to peek behind him at his savior, coming face to face with a familiar pair of white eyes and radar ears.
“Oh. Thanks, Sonar.”
Robert turned back around, eyes fluttering shut. And if the bat hybrid noticed him letting himself lean back on Sonar to take some weight off his miserable joints, he didn’t show it.
“No problemo, Boberto.”
Robert huffed out a small laugh as he wondered why Sonar had chosen to take something as tedious as the elevator when he could just fly into the office’s landing zone. He didn’t open his eyes until the automated voice finally announced their arrival, and belatedly realized they were now alone. Not counting Mr. Whiskey, who felt more like an omnipresent entity rather than another coworker.
Feeling a smidge flustered, Robert shot Sonar a sheepish grin.
“Good luck today, Batboner.“
He looked back to see Sonar twitch his ears at him, standing alone in the elevator, and spun around to head to the break room.
Robert was glad to see that Sonar had been able to quickly ease back into life on the Z-Team after everything that had happened. He was never angry at the bat for joining the Red Ring after getting cut from the team, only upset that the whole thing had to happen in the first place. Sonar had always seemed very at home at SDN, particularly more than the others, and Robert had understood the betrayal he likely felt when that was taken away from him.
So when the opportunity to prove to him that he (and Blazer) did truly value Sonar and want him back arose, Robert took it without hesitation. He almost tripped over his feet, getting the police to let him go.
And after weeks of guiltily staring at the tie Sonar had left behind, Robert was able to return it on his first shift back. The bat had stared at it for a long time, before nodding and throwing it around his collar.
Robert could tell the rest of the team was equally as happy to have the full gang back together, even if it meant having to get acquainted with the bat’s random screams again.
Once he reached his destination, Robert sighed in relief.
The painkillers and coffee looked unharmed.
***
“Alright, good work, team. Head to lunch. And please do not be late to the afternoon shift, I really don’t feel like keeping the callers happy while they wait for you. Again.”
Even several months after the fiasco with Shroud, remnants of the Red Ring were continuing to pop up around Torrance—each villain likely trying to establish dominance as the next potential “leader.”
As far as Robert could tell, they mostly just consisted of weak wannabes who thought they finally had a chance to be something, but it was still tiring to deal with so many of them. Despite not being in the field, dispatching and hacking on top of entertaining the Z-Team’s clowning took all of his energy; and, on a day like this, it was as harrowing as ever.
“Aye-aye, captain!” Robert could practically hear Punch-Up’s stupid salute and Coupé’s accompanying smile.
“I’ll do whatever I want, Mecha Dick.”
“Y-yes! Mr. Ro-Robert sir!”
As the chorus of varying agreement and insults died down, Robert took off his headset and dragged both palms down his face.
“Blazer say anything about that raise yet?” Chase’s head appeared over the divider.
Robert turned in his chair. “They just updated my salary status from ‘under review’ to whatever it is now. Besides, I don’t think I should bother her with stuff like that. Maybe a bit later.”
“Your loss. If you were neglecting Beef due to being a broke ass I would go talk to Blazer myself, but… looks like he’s doing fine.”
Following his cue, Beef waddled around to Robert’s cubicle.
“Looks like he’s doing more than fine, Chase,” Robert eyed the nearly empty jars of treats on his desk. “… Considering the speed you’re going through those at.”
Chase shot him a glare. “If you’re implying I should ease up on the biscuits, I’m going to ignore it.”
Rolling his eyes, Robert slowly eased out of his chair and stretched out his back. He pointedly ignored the series of gruesome pops from his body. “Want anything from the break room?”
“Boy, at this rate you’re gonna die before me, better stop making those grandpa jokes,” Chase half-joked and shook his head, but still handed Robert a bill for the vending machine.
Robert grinned and grabbed it along with his mug. “Thanks, grandpa.”
Quickly heading into the break room before Chase could throw something at him, Robert saw Prism, Flambae, and Invisigal at one of the plastic tables having a visibly heated discussion crowded around the phone Prism was clutching.
“Girl, she totally wants you. Look at the winking emoji!”
“Ugh. That is so old-school.” Flambae threw his legs on top of the table, crossing them.
Prism threw him a look. “Aren’t you basically forty?”
“Bitch I will literally rip your wig off your–”
Invisigal pushed both of their faces away. “Shut up and help me already! What should I say back?”
Robert watched with mirth from the door. “Am I interrupting or can I come refill my coffee?”
“Bob bob!” Flambae gave him a fake smile before quickly dropping it. “Mind your own business, you are the person that would help the least actually. You know, since you are a boring, old, lame, perpetually single–”
“Okay, I think I got it, thanks.”
Prism waved the firebender away. “Maybe he can help! He and Miss Blaz–”
“Nope!” Invisigal frantically reached over to cover her mouth. “Nope, nope, nope, nope.”
Prism silently shrugged at Robert, who snorted and turned away to insert Chase’s bill for a Twinkie. He could hear the trio start to passionately whisper behind him as he refilled his mug, the vending machine whirring.
Another pair of voices approached the door.
“–that’s so cute, Vic. Straight outta one of Coop’s books.”
“Shh!”
Robert tilted his head in time to see Sonar swat at Malevola as the two of them turned the corner into the room, the bat eyeing him warily.
“Hey guys. Good work earlier,” he took a sip of the lukewarm coffee. “Are you going to tell me to mind my own business too?” Robert teased, sensing that Sonar didn’t want him to hear whatever Malevola had to say.
“Hey, wait! How come we didn’t get a ‘good work’ Mr. Dispatcher?”
Robert lazily looked over at Prism. “Probably because your friend started another fire downtown just to annoy Waterboy?”
She glared at Flambae as the latter started to clean his fingernails.
Robert reached down to grab the Twinkie that the machine had finally spat out.
“Maybe next shift you can all get one.”
“We don’t need validation from a bitch… bitch.”
Robert started to leave, and glanced at Malevola and Sonar, who were still hovering by the entrance.
“You don't actually have to tell me what you guys were talking about. I’m leaving anyway, so, carry on.”
“No worries, mate. Sonar here is just being shy, aren’t ya?” Sonar dodged Malevola’s attempts to paw at his face, and Robert slipped out the door chuckling before the bat could retaliate.
***
The second shift of the day was actually going fairly peacefully, when Robert realized that in getting wrapped up in the heroes’ conversations, he somehow forgot to take a second dose of his painkillers. The too-familiar pulsing aches and sharp pains burned from his head and back through his joints and limbs. It grew increasingly difficult to handle some of the hacking, which annoyed him even more. Once he finally disabled a more complicated lock for Coupé after trying for way too long, a groan slipped out of his mouth.
“Got someone under your desk, Mecha Bitch?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Wow, yeah, you guessed it. Congratulations.”
Invisigal’s icon flickered on. “It does sometimes sound like a porno on here when you’re doing your little computer games.”
“You do know I have to do these ‘computer games’ for you, right? So that you can actually do your job? And be a hero? And get your paycheck?”
“Jesus, okay, dad. It was just an FYI.” A beat. “You know what that means, right?”
Robert huffed and flipped on his mute switch for good measure. He began massaging his temples when a dark mass moved by the windows in his periphery. He turned to look, but a voice cleared from behind him. Robert whipped back around, immediately regretting it as he felt a new crick in his neck blossom.
The culprit was draped over his cubicle wall, slightly out of breath. White eyes and radar ears. Again.
“Thought you might need these.”
Robert’s eyes traveled down to the hand that was dangling a familiar bottle from Robert’s medical stash.
“Hey! Is that mine?”
Sonar slowly blinked at him in response.
“How did you find out about my stash?”
“I’m a professional drug addict that can use echolocation. I’m also very smart, in case you forgot.” He looked smug. “It was pretty easy.”
Robert ignored the last few parts. “You mean you were a drug addict. And you’re recovering now.”
Another blink.
“Sonar…” Robert groaned. “Does Malevola know?”
“Probably. Look, I’m trying, okay?”
Robert searched Sonar’s face. He looked a bit more tired than usual, if a bat could look tired. “Okay.” Then, “How did you know I needed more pills?”
“Unlike Flambutt, I can differentiate between a blowjob groan and a somebody-sedate-me groan.” Sonar smirked, flashing his teeth.
“Flambutt, that’s a new one.”
“I can give you five more right now.”
Robert’s computer pinged. “Thanks, but I’d rather you get back in the field.”
“Boo.” Sonar blew a raspberry.
Sneaking a glance at the screen, Robert smiled. “Here, you can take the Vanderstenk event. Happy?”
“Sick! Thanks, Robby. I’ll try and bother him at like an 80 percent level this time. Maybe.”
Swallowing a few pills dry, Robert waved at Sonar as he bounded away.
Chase stuck his head over the wall again. “What was that about?”
Robert shrugged. “Nothing. Just thought he deserved to go fangirl for once. It’s been a while.”
“Looks like he’s fangirling over you, bringing you stuff like some cat. Probably worships you for taking a loser like him back after he beat you up a million times.”
“We’ve been over this Chase, it’s cool now. And, just for the record, it was twice.”
“Whatever. I’m just saying, he might get a little clingy or some other annoying guilt-trauma-bonding-imprinting shit.”
Turning back to his computer, Robert shook his head and unmuted himself.
“Invisigal I can see you going off-route to Granny’s, please focus.”
“… Damn.”