Chapter Text
Robert Robertson the Third ran away.
Well, that was one way to put it.
Really, it sounded like he was a petulant child when he stated it that way. He'd been eighteen, had completed high school, and had a very thorough plan that he'd spent the last three years moving in the shadows to set up prior to the escape.
He'd been fourteen when his dad had nearly died. He'd been shot by Uncle Eli - as Robert had called him, partially because, over time, the man had been one of the few on the Brave Brigade who really let Robert roll when he was on a conversation about technology. Robert wasn't so handy as his father or as advanced as Elliot, but he loved to code. Eli - mostly to get rid of the kid or distract him when Eli was busy - would hand off random technology deemed 'safe enough' to allow Robert to code and hack to the boy's heart's content.
The whole thing had been a shock to Robert. His dad had been shot by someone who let him enjoy his side of tech. Robbie had recovered - the bullet had barely missed his heart, and Track Star had managed to rush the man to medical - but the moment had forever changed the way the Brigade worked.
Robbie had come back from the edge of death with a shadow over him. He had been personable to his team before, but Track Star had told the whole story on what led up to the shot. Elliot went to jail on attempted murder charges, and the team lost one of their greatest minds. The bonds between teammates seemed to weaken, and that was when Robbie came down hard on Robert.
To train him. To ready him. To expect perfection when giving only 'tough love' in return.
Robert had tried. He'd tried so hard.
But something in him broke.
Robbie became neglectful. Violent at times. Prioritizing the mission over all else.
Track Star tried to remind Robert that he was a kid, that he should enjoy his childhood, but Robbie drove harder at the young man. Pushed a wall between the two as "Robert was old enough to be without a babysitter." He never understood the bond that Robert and Track Star shared.
So Robert planned. Squirreled money away. Learned everything about hacking to create a bank account, a social security number, a history to a new identity.
He would be up late into the night, train when his father forced him to, bled and cried and hid to heal. School was school, a check mark and the only time he really, truly, escaped his father's brutal regime, and not without a hand from the members of the Brigade. They'd heard about Robbie's plans to pull Robert to homeschool, but the teammates had, somehow, convinced Robbie that Robert would be better off five days a week, eight hours a day, amongst peers and learning. Social skills, or whatever they called it.
Robert didn't know, but he certainly wasn't social. He used his lunches and the old tech that Eli had given him, still eons ahead of what the school had, to make his plans.
And then he'd run. He had a moment, a break in the brutal training that had come down on him the moment he graduated, and grabbed his bag and ran.
Robert Robertson the Third had left notes. Untraceable things.
A note to his father, simply saying that he was done and not to look.
A letter in the mail to Track Star. An apology for not telling him. For needing to cut contact. That he would find a way to reach out when he finally felt safe.
A letter to the members of the Brigade. This one a thank you for their cares, and another reminder that he wasn't missing. That he wanted to be gone. To please not look for him.
That morning, Robert Robertson the Third had existed.
By that evening, Robert Robertson the Third was gone without a trace.
Robert Park adjusted his glasses as he squinted at the equipment in front of him.
The monstrous thing didn't deserve the title of computer. It was barely functional.
"I'm telling you. This thing is trash! I can build you something better!" He spoke in Korean, his grandmother's first language. His mother hadn't been in the picture during his childhood, and, with Robbie always doing day-saving stuff, the first few years of Robert's life had been with his grandmother, Eun-Jung - who went by EJ or Emily Jane when she emigrated to the States. She had taught Robert her native tongue and made him feel loved, and her death in her sleep when Robert was seven had been the first time that he'd truly felt alone.
It had been a loneliness that had haunted much of his childhood.
"We don't need a new one! If it's too hard, I can..." A man's voice spoke from somewhere, and Robert waved off blindly.
"No, no, I know what you're going to say. I'll fix it."
A cup of floral smelling tea and a plate with a few pieces of peeled clementine and Dasik came to rest in the space besides Robert's hand. He looked over from where he had a flashlight inside the POS (Point of Sale system, which processed credit cards and helped the people check others out, but Robert preferred the other translation of calling it a Piece of Shit).
The woman there smiled, adjusting her glasses. Her dark brown hair was streaked in white, and she wore a long beige skirt, a tucked in blue collared shirt, and had draped over her shoulders a dark blue cardigan with floral embroidery. "Please don't work yourself too hard, Roo-Bin."
Robert smiled at her. It had been a joke that had never died, and she continued to call him the name to this day.
"Thank you, Auntie Jian."
Long ago, when Robert had first escaped his father, he'd been looking for a place to hide. Away from anything related to his father, he'd found a small studio apartment in that part of town that didn't look too hard at his forged documents nor his lack of co-signer. He'd set up the apartment with deliveries on his false identities leading up to his escape, and he hadn't left it for many days when he first ran away from his father.
He'd been ecstatic, then terrified, and then numb and sorrowful. Contemplated going back before he scrambled back from the door, or cell phone, or whatever he'd contemplated using to reach out to his father and his past.
And then he'd gone for a walk for the first time and wound up there.
The Hibiscus Tea House and Cafe. To Robert, it drew him in with the beautiful floral displays in the windows, the dark wood inside and the fresh smell of sweets and tea on the air.
It dug something out from him. Deep memories that he'd lost for a while.
It reminded him of his grandmother.
He went there as a regular. He took his cobbled laptop. He'd also been shy, unsure, not wanting to draw attention.
They'd called him Roo-Bin so many times before he grew comfortable enough to correct them. A misspelling on a cup and an accent had given him a new name for almost a year.
And yet, Jian and Dae Song, the owners, still joked that his name was Roo-Bin.
Robert built himself there, really. The couple never had their own kids, but they adopted him like he was one of their nephews. Robert was balancing online classes, bills, and freelance jobs to ensure that he didn't run out of money. He lived cheap, never wanting to be at a point that he'd be left on the street.
They would bring him tea and coffee, snacks and sweets. He tried to turn them away, but they tutted at him and made him keep them. In turn, he used his skills to fix their tech. The cameras, the POS, and fixing the Wi-Fi router when it acted up.
Somewhere along the way, they became family.
And they probably knew the most about his life Before, even as he still kept most of the details away.
Even as Robert got older, his jobs became consistent and his life settled, he still came back here.
He got to poking at the tablet display, messing around with the wires until he found the loose one that kept coming off. He managed to wrap it back into place before he reassembled the machine.
It booted up, and he started running diagnostics.
A younger barista with multiple piercings looked over Robert's shoulder. "How's it looking, Mr. Park?"
"I keep telling you. Mr. Park makes me feel old." Robert rolled his eyes. "I need to bring some replacement wires and a solder next time." He took the tea, blowing a breath over it and, out of habit, sniffing it. Poison training had never left him, even over a decade later. He took a sip. "Tell Uncle Dae that he needs to replace these things."
The young adult shook their head. "Yeah, when pigs fly."
Once Robert was sure that the thing was solid, he left the server to their work. He saw their name - Alex - and tried to commit it to memory. There were so many people who worked for Dae and Jian over the years, and Robert tried to keep eyes out for them where he could.
"Hey, do you work here?"
Robert looked up from where he'd been putting his used dishes behind the counter. He blinked at the man standing there, arms crossed as he looked at the smaller man.
He was tall, broad, and extremely muscular in an outfit that spoke so many words, mainly gay, gay, homosexual, gay. He had to be a super hero or something, with the odd spandex-like material and fire motif, but the V-neck was, well, quite revealing. His hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail, with sun-kissed skin, a light shadow to his jaw, and eyes that glowed somehow, rich honey oranges that seemed to flicker.
Comparatively speaking, Robert was absolutely plain. He'd never been one for fashion, always going with what worked and was comfortable. Today he had been in some worn jeans, his favorite sneakers, and a short-sleeved collared shirt that was white with some pale pink flowers on it, the top buttons undone due to the weather. He wore the glasses, which helped with blue light. He also had a golden cuff over his ear where the laser of the Mech Suit had taken off a chunk of his ear so long ago, a small piece of jewelry that he used when he was in too much of a rush (or too lazy) to properly apply the prosthetic and make-up to cover it.
It was one of his really distinguishing features, and he continued to cover it to this day however he could.
Somewhere along the way, he'd also acquired a fidget ring. A gift one year, on 'his' birthday (the birthday that he'd made for Robert Park, not Robert Robertson the Third) from one of the 'cousins' that he'd gained through Dae and Jian. She'd insisted that the ring matched the cuff, and, admittedly, Robert did like to use it.
"Kinda. Not really. Just helping with the computers." Robert returned. He looked over, but Alex was cleaning a table. He didn't know where the other staff members went. Dae and Jian were likely in the back kitchen baking or something. He looked back. "What are you looking for? To order? I can grab someone."
"Eugh." The man made a face. "This is so stupid. I've been fucking sent to get some fucking order for some diva that swears that this place has cured her voice issues with the tea and some otherworldly snacks. Like this is all some superstitious Eastern Medicine." He waved his hands. "I don't know, man. My dispatcher doesn't know what the fuck they're doing."
Robert blinked. He mulled the words for a minute before they collected.
"So are you, like, one of those heroes for hire?" He remembered, somewhere far in his past, when those companies had started cropping up. His dad had hated them, so, of course, Robert had read all about them. "If she wants tea, we can do tea. I don't know, we have some really good seasonal floral mixes right now. Bungeoppang is always a crowd pleaser. Auntie Jian also has a mean Songpyeon." Robert paused. "That's the fish-shaped sweet breads in the window over here, and the rice cakes over here." He pointed in the window in front of him. "I'm not a pro at this, but I can ask Auntie about it if you want a recommendation."
The man hummed, thinking over the recommendation. It was around now that Alex returned. "Oh, sorry, sir. Let me set these down, and I can take your order. Mr. Park, I got this."
"Robert. Please, Alex." Robert shot a look at the younger man before looking back. "Good luck..."
"Flambae." The man returned. "I control the fire and the flames."
Robert couldn't help it. He snorted.
The man scowled.
"Sorry, sorry." The shorter man returned. He waved. "That was just. So corny."
"Fuck you, too, bitch." The taller man threw.
"You wish." Robert rolled his eyes as he stepped out from around the bar. He checked his phone as he got back to his table, seeing a notification coming through. Looks like one of my regulars needs me to fix their shit again.
When Robert looked up, Flambae was talking to Alex, but he did smirk when he noticed Robert looking.
"Nice meeting you, Mr. Flames."
"Back at you, Tech Bitch."
Alex rolled their eyes.
Robert grabbed his laptop bag and shoved his things in. He paused at the counter as Jian had come out to help with the tea pairing. "Auntie, gotta run. See you later!"
"Do not cause trouble, Roo-Bin!"
And Robert was off.