Chapter Text
He was definitely sliding towards the drunker end of the scale.
Pain still trumped in his jaw, telling him he was probably going to be bruising tomorrow without icing it, familiar dull pain branching over his torso as every small shift tugged at unfamiliar scar tissue, now reignited with small wounds and bruises.
Robert eyed the glasses in front of him, weighing how much he’d rather go for the alcohol over the ice water. On one hand, if he didn’t want to be even more of an embarrassment, he should probably take a glass of water.
On the other, he could really use a drink after the day he had. Days. Months, really. Honestly, why not say years? It was rare he got actually, truly black out drunk. Mecha Man couldn’t be hungover or half asleep during calls. Mecha Man always operated at peak efficiency, with never a sign of exhaustion, or fear, and definitely never of being hungover.
The last time would’ve been just after his father died. The last time he saw Track Star, as a person and not on TV or in the newspaper, holding him while he begged him not to take him to the hospital, that he didn't want headlines about Mecha Man's son getting put in for alcohol poisoning.
The next breath out feels like the way dirt settles on a coffin lid, remembering the blind desperation to hide from the world, suddenly thrown into it alone. And now, once again, he was left alone.
Maybe he would take a couple sips more. Keep easing the edge off, the voice that told him maybe he could have been a little better. Maybe if he had been a little bit more careful, a little smarter, a little more Mecha Man, he would've won, and Shroud would be no more.
“Hey. Hey. Bitch. Little bitch.” Loud. Obviousky aimed at him. Robert heaved a sigh, slowly turning in his seat.
“I just want you to know, I’m turning because someone is yelling that word. Not because I am a bitch.” He said drily. The stranger snorted, settling in the chair next to him. They didn't even bother to ask permission, crowding in close. His eyes flickered to him, relaxing when he didn't see the red glow.
He wouldn't think so- Shroud was more intelligent then to send in one of their crew into a superhero bar. The other had been very careful about never overstepping the lines that would draw more hero attention to him.
But still. It's not paranoia when they're really out to get you.
Heatwaves. A radiating heat on his arm, a smell reminiscent of a campfire. It was oddly familiar somehow, but overriding it was the unease Robert felt when two others settled in at his other side. It was oddly telegraphed how they fell in to an unseen signal, coming close enough to make their presence obvious but not close enough to light up his tripwire nerves.
Did Blonde Blazer know this was going to happen? Was that why she had walked away?
“Can’t say I remember who you are.” Robert said neutrally. His eyes slid towards the first one to sit, tagging them as the bigger danger. A scent like that meant arson, and he didn’t fancy his chances fighting a fire with hand to hand combat.
Fuck, he missed the suit. And the fire protection he had built into it. It had been half gone by the end because cooling systems were a bitch to maintain, but there was something to be said for that perk of confidence.
“Of course you fucking don’t.” The guy scoffed. He was wearing sunglasses, practically asking for it at this point. A tie bound back his wild black hair, face set in the kind of disdainful look he usually saw on overconfident villains. It felt like a look he had seen before. Robert tried to hide how he looked the other over for familiarity. It felt like he should know them, but he wasn't sure how, whether it was from passing mentions or actual meetings. Fuck. Another thing he hated about his injuries, how his memories had fuzzed slightly, smaller points losing their detail.
But Robert couldn’t help but catalog the muscles, internally guessing how well he’d fare in this fight.
Not well. Fuck. He had lost so much to those four months.
The man's lip pulled back into a smirk, perhaps guessing Robert was cataloging him. “I’m not even going to make you guess, you’d probably mock me. Like a little bitch.” The guy said. Robert raised an eyebrow.
And then he did something stranger. The man looked him up and down. Slow. Obvious. With a lazy, feral smirk. The sudden attention made Robert shift, threat assessment briefly lost to befuddlement.
“You say that like you know me well.” Robert said. “It’s a pretty low hanging fruit though. What with the… everything about you.”
He wasn't even sure what to start with. It was like walking into a candy store with a blank check.
“Oh, let the lad give it a good old go! It’s pretty funny.” The one directly on his other side. Small, but built like an absolute truck in a way that suggested magic or superhuman physiology was at work here. Robert tried to keep one eye on him, but the other didn't move, leaning onto the counter with a smile.
“Unless you’re a coward.” Behind, to his side. She leaned on the shorter guy with an ease of long practice, her eyes boring into his skull. Those wings looked far sharper than they should. Assassin. He settled on assassin. It was rare for him to deal with someone in that business, the suit wasn't built for subtle work, and most people didn't take contracts for mecha armor. But, some villains got creative when he busted them, and he could read in between the lines.
But, no augments.
Robert rolled his shoulders, glancing across the counter. “‘Fraid I don’t recognize you. You think I would, with those awful shades. Indoors, at night. I’d ask if you’re compensating for something but I’m afraid I already know the answer to that.”
The other flared red, the heat increasing as they snatched the glasses from their face. Something that could be embers flickered over their shoulders, dying away just before they could bloom into tongues of fire. “Those are a fashion statement.” He hissed. “I do not expect an old man like you to understand that.”
“Oh, they’re stating something.” Robert said, reaching for the glass of alcohol. He blinked as the shorter man grabbed it before his fingertips touched, throwing it back with a gulp.
“Cheers!” He said. Then grimaced. “Ah, not a good one though. Blazer’s taste is shite. Too rich for my blood.”
“Apologies, my drink isn’t enough for you.” Robert changed his path, reached for the water instead, taking a sip. Fuck, he might as well. He still couldn't tell whether this was about to turn into a fight or not. “We gonna get to the fucking point about why you all suddenly felt the need to cuddle up to me?”
“Cuddling? I cuddle no one.” Heatwaves hissed. “I am Flamebae. I control the fire, and the flame, and my skin does not burn.”
Ah-
burning and burning and the temperature gauge was rising his shitty macgyvered coolant set up beginning to fail and he stared into the flames and knew they’d start spreading sooner, farther from this mall and arson would turn to felony murder-
He cuts.
The blood burns in the fire. So do the fingers.
Ah. Not someone he's heard about in passing. Someone he busted.
Robert shakes the thought away. We joke about our trauma here. “So, you’re that villain I busted up a few years back.” The bartender hasn’t even sent them a glance, polishing a glass at the end of the bar. Probably estimating whether he'd need to throw them out soon.
“Villain? I’m a superhero now.” Flamebae said, leaning on the counter. They’ve cut off his exits, but haven’t yet pressed the point. Every move keeping him from running and yet, never pushing farther. “This is a superhero bar, after all. I'm a changed man, now.”
“We got kicked for the night from our usual place after a bar fight took out one of the walls.” The lady behind him said. Robert’s eyes flickered back, meeting hers.
“And I’m betting that had nothing to do with you.”
The smile she sent back to him was sharper than the blades on her wings.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though. Shouldn’t you need a babysitter? Somebody to boss around? Here among the big heroes.” Flamebae said, leaning in just a hair closer. Robert took another sip of the water, feeling the icy chill sink into his clenched teeth.
Normal. That was the tag most put on him. Unenhanced. Unpowered. Like he hadn’t fought for so long. Like everything he’d done, everything he’d lost or given up, nothing mattered because he didn’t matter outside of the suit.
Mecha Man was a legacy. An idol. No one should know that the one piloting it hadn’t started as a man, but instead a scrawny teenager, still fumbling his waUncovered. The person changing it never changed.
No one knew how he fought in and out of the suit.
There was the target on his back. He minimized his face as much as possible. As far as the public was concerned, the man in the suit was faceless. Nameless. Once he took off the mecha, even in his superhero suit, he saw several blank looks when he walked into the bar.
People thought of the robot, not the uniform.
With the money dwindling, he found himself getting more and more practical on how he deployed the suit. Reducing the smash and grabs for more finesse, scouting a building first before to make sure he could maximize his tactics.
If he was thinking, it’s what he should have done for that mission. Maybe then, his suit would’ve been fine. Maybe then he would have been saved a short coma and Beef wouldn’t have had to rely on autopaid rent and a soft hearted landlord.
“Okay, get that stupid look off your face.” Flamebae said. Robert slowly blinked at him. He waved at the bartender, grimacing when they dropped off a beer. “Even the beer here sucks. I was just wondering where your chaperone is.”
Another sip of water.
“My chaperone.” Robert’s tone could have burned through steel. Not a single one flinched.
“She’s heading back. She’ll be here soon.” The lady behind him said. Answering the question Robert wouldn't,
“You’ve got eagle eyes, you do.” The shorter man said. “Have you been watching her this whole time from where she is?”
“Or maybe just more height, ever think of that?” Flamebae said. The shorter man slammed his hands down on the bar, cracks spiderwebbing out. Robert lifted his drink free before the cracks reached it, raising an eyebrow. Definitely enhanced, those muscles weren't just for show.
“Ye don’t make fun of a man’s height.” The other hissed. Flamebae rolled his eyes, waving a hand.
“Relax, I ain’t talking about that.” He said. They all knew it was a lie. Even Robert side eyed him. “Back to the bitch in the room-“
‘Oh, and she's back.” the person behind him remarked, wings clicking as they shifted to the side. Blonde Blazer had paused there, eyes scanning across the three. Robert waved a hand, flicking it out when her eyes reached him, making a gesture of ‘what was I supposed to do?’.
“You-“ Blonde Blazer choked over the words, her face flaring pink and then red, emotions briefly breaking through that corporate mien.
Hm. Does she have a conduct standard to act to? He wouldn’t be surprised, considering corporate PR. It was one reason Mecha Man kept away from it. He couldn't imagine having someone police you down to what language you used.
“What are you three doing here?” She settled on, voice shifting from her previous casualness to something tighter, business.
“Is that an insult? It’s a superhero bar, we’re superheroes. In our natural habitat and all that.” Flamebae said, eyes lidded lazily. He took a sip of his beer, scoffing before he set it back on the counter. Robert eyed it. Before he could think about it, the other pushed the glass further away from him. “Can’t believe our boss just said we don’t belong here. I'm feeling very unappreciated.”
“Sonar would lose his shite over hearing that. The lawsuits excite him. Its really kind of weird.” Short guy agreed. Blonde Blazer pinched her lips together, looking like what she actually wanted to do was smack them upside their heads.
“I’m perfectly fine with that. In fact, I’m proud of you for exploring other environments.” All three of them fake gagged. In sync. It was almost impressive, if it wasn’t also really gross. “Very mature. But why are you gathered here around R-Mecha Man?” She catches herself on his name.
“He did cut off Flamebae’s fingers.” The lady offered. Blonde Blazer set one drink down with a loud rattle and Robert reached for it, only for Flamebae to whisk it away.
“You owe me a drink.” He said, tasting a sip. Robert looked at the other's beer, getting a challenging look from Flambae. “Everything here tastes awful.”
“Have you considered that if everything tastes awful, there's one common element at play here?” Robert said. “Or, perhaps you just have the taste of a toddler.”
“Fuck you, bitch. At least I know not to drink water- fuck, alcohol with a concussion.” Robert jerked back, and Flamsbae flicked his fingers at his chin almost casually. “Honestly bitch, should I be worried about you drinking water too? Or did you just spontaneously start bruising?”
Blonde Blazer jerked slightly, ice cubes rattling in her drink. “Oh, I didn't think about that.” She said, regret blooming on her face. “Shit, Mecha Man, are you okay?”
“I think the headache is more from these three than combining drinks with a concussion. And it's cute you think that guy could hit me that hard.” This didn't even rate in the top twenty for him. The pain was near nonexistent at this point, only a low throb in the base of his skull.
“Fucker. Just kill off the rest of you brain right now.” Flamebae scoffed. “You need a babysitter just to drink?”
“We’re just feeling the lad out.” The shorter guy said, shifting forward slightly. “Heard on the grape vine he might be becoming a lot more on top of us.”
Something here relating to him. Something he didn’t know about. Robert didn’t like the not knowing. Of course, it could just be about the fingers, but he didn't know if he would flatter himself by thinking it would be about just that. He couldn't forget how Flamebae had looked him up and down.
But whatever it was, Blonde Blazer's face shifted for a moment, confusion fading into exasperation.
“Sonar. Of course. I’ll have another chat with him about eavesdropping.” Blonde Blazer said. Her hand twitches like she’s debating pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, nothing’s set yet. I haven’t even tested him, and I haven't even offered either. You need to go.”
“We can help with that.” The lady interjected. “Have him use us. Send us out on a mission, right now.”
“That’s not how it works!” Blonde Blazer said. Her other glass slammed down a bit harder, alcohol sloshing onto the counter. Robert shifted back, keeping his glass of water. The bartender was starting to move closer. “Ah, fudge.”
“Real mature.” Flamebae mocked. “We’re here, might as well run the test with us. True to life.”
“Is anyone going to include me in this conversation?” Robert said, eyes scanning across the room. Still clear. A good chunk of the bar had started conspicuously ignoring their pile up, with the kind of instincts that meant they saw the upcoming car crash. And watching it very closely but were going to pretend like they weren't.
“It’s fine, they were just leaving.” Blonde Blazer said, staring the three down. “I don’t know how Sonar overheard it, but you aren’t running off this one before he even gets the offer.”
“Who says we’re trying to run the lad off? We’re being friendly, live a little. Slap a headset on.” The shorter guy offered. “Or we could just start it right here. Give me a few and I'll have something needing dispatching.”
“A bar fight.” The lady said, already scanning the room. Robert couldn’t miss the low chuckle beside him, rich with promise. He set his glass down for a moment, gloves shifting.
“Get out.” Blonde Blazer said. “Or you’ll be suspended for a few days. Just- I don’t know where, but get out. I can’t finish the interview with interruptions.”
Another sip of his ice water. He was starting to feel uncomfortably sober, and he didn’t like it.
“Fine, fine. You're so angry about us taking an interest for once. It's rude. Buh-bye, Mecha Man.” Flamebae said. For a moment, eyes met his, dark with promise. The he was levering himself out of the barstool and stalking away. He didn’t even take his drink, either of the glasses he drank from.
“Ah, I was really hoping for that barfight.” The shorter guy hopped off, jogging after him, leaving just him and Blonde Blazer-
“Coupé.” Robert jolted as a cheek pressed to the side of his head, a whisper slipping into his ear. “It means to cut. I wanted to tell you it this time.”
Robert took a deep breath, but even as he was breathing out, she whisked away, featherlight and graceful, stalking to the door with the grace of a leopard after a successful hunt. And leaving him blinking after her, not sure of what to say.
“I’m so sorry about them.” Blazer said. The swig she took of her drink was less impressive than the chug from earlier, but now radiated a bone deep sense of embarrassment. “They’re… handfuls. Good people, deep down, I hope. But they can be a lot to some people.”
“You know them well, I'm guessing.” Robert said, following after them as they pushed out of the bar. Done with… whatever they had set out to do.
“That obvious?” She said. Then sighed before he could answer. “Yeah, I made it pretty obvious, didn't I? Those three are on one of dispatch teams, one of our newest. It's… complicated.”
“At least they advertise their douchiness.” Robert said, thinking of those sunglasses. “I’ve had worse. At least they didn’t try to send me flying into the bar. I'd rather school kids pulling pigtails over a fight right now.”
Blonde Blazer muttered something that sounded suspiciously like thankfully.
“Should I be worried about being kidnapped or assassinated though?” Robert said, leaning back. He couldn't help but notice how smoothly they had swept in, right after Blonde Blazer had left. “Or is this just about that… dispatching thing mentioned?”
“Right. Right.” Blonde Blazer’s eyes darted around before she sighed, standing up from her seat. “I was hoping to let us hit this part of the night naturally, but let’s get it started sooner. We’re going to need some privacy for this, and I know just the spot.”
Walk away, something told him. Walk away. Take the drink, go back to your empty apartment.
Or stay, and take a leap of faith.
“Right.” Ice clinked as he took the last sip. “Kidnap me then.”
The night sky was empty. And then it wasn’t.
“Of course, she just fucking left you up here.”
Robert was on his feet in a second, feet braced in the catwalk, arm slightly spread for balance, ready to lunge. Flamebae folded his arms.
He didn’t like his chances against the other, especially this high up, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.
“If I wanted to, I’d just punt you off.” He said. “I bet you’d fucking squeak.”
“Imagine what sounds I make often?” Robert drawled. He didn’t move a muscle, watching the other. They didn’t read as aggressive. Flame haloed their form, pulsing heat into the air, and keeping them hovering with surprising grace.
“Yeah. After I punch you in the face.” Flamebae shot back. “You're trying to climb down? With what muscle? You’re more of a little bitch than I thought you would look.”
“Sometimes people want things that they shouldn’t really get.” Robert said, tilting his head back. The view was beautiful, in a bright sort of way. Well picked. “I’ve had entire conspiracies about what I look like, but it’s better for no one to have a face to behind the suit.”
With forced calm, he shifted, heading back to the edge and his plan to slowly work his way back down the side. Flamebae flew after him, heat tracing the path.
He had no illusions he was not the person people envisioned inside the suit. And probably even worse off now, with how much the time away had affected his muscles, how his previous bulk had slimmed to something more wiry.
But his holds were certain, his fingers tight and footing secured. Robert could make it down from this sign.
“Why are you up here?” Robert said conversationally, checking the next hold he'd need to reach. “Didn’t Blonde Blazer tell you to scurry off with your friends? And you, well, you scurried off.”
“She can fucking ask.” Bold words from someone who did indeed scurry off. “I was just in the area and saw her leave you here. Figured I’d come over and make sure you don’t break your normie bones trying to get off.”
In the area. Funny. This place wasn’t exactly secluded, but he didn’t think of it as popular. Nor was it on any of the obvious flight paths, or patrol routes. There was no reason to come over here.
“Riiiight.” More likely, he had his bet on nosiness. Blonde Blazer hadn’t seemed surprised that they would eavesdrop on things, if what happened earlier was any guess. “Well, I don’t need any of your help.”
“Are you sure?” Flamebae floated closer. “Last I checked, you needed a robot to let you fly. Your, what, going to break your frail little bones climbing down again?”
“I can just climb.” Illustrating his point, Robert began to heave himself down, threading his way through the metal rails. It was ginger and slow work. But the burn in his muscles made him feel far more alive than even the alcohol did. The comfortable feeling of being stretched to his limits and meeting them.
And maybe a bit of burning from exceeding them. It was clear that much of his strength was gone, his palms a bit more sweaty, his breathing heavier as he slowly began to pick his way down. The metal was digging into his gloves, grating through the reinforced fabric.
“Stubborn bitch.” Flamebae said. But despite the other's name, there's no heat to it. Instead heat curls across his back, the other hovering almost intimately close. Arms slightly spread, as if to catch him when he fell.
“Done staring at me, or do you need to take a picture?” Robert said. Check for the next hold. The fall would kill him, even if Flamebae didn't first. “Take the sunglasses off first, I won’t be showing off that I consort with douches.”
He tilts his head back, gaze flickering across the sky. A large shape flits across the moon, sounds of flapping in the distant e, probably another hero on patrol. And then Flambae is scoffing, drawing his gaze back.
Flamebae flares red. “Fuck you.” He hissed. The heat feels good against the chill of the night. “Here I am, looking out for your weak, noodle arms for if they snap like the twigs they are. You need some help? You're not supposed to climb without a spotter.”
“Funny. Last I checked, you're not supposed to fly without a license.” Flambae growled, the noise vibrating through the air. “I’m almost certain that's one of the charges you got hit for, after I busted you. Flying without a license.”
With the name now, he remembered a bit more. Granted, he had forgotten a bit, running through the haze of actually maiming someone. Causing permanent damage. It wasn't the first time and it wasn't the last, but there had been something about the look on Flamebae's face when it happened.
“First of all, I have- I will have a license. So, fuck you. Second of all, I'll just tell them that someone had to make sure you didn't trip off this bulletin board.” Flamebae said, folding his arms. “What a sad sad headline that would be.
“How truly kind and selfless of you.” Robert said. It was tinged with dripping sarcasm, something that made Flamebae scoffed behind him. “Shall we erect a statue? Or maybe a medal?”
“I’m so kind and selfless. Just be jealous of me.”
Another handheld. Another slow shuffle down. His arms were definitely burning now, but Robert gritted his teeth. He would make it down, or die trying. He wasn't giving the other the satisfaction of catching him, and letting them be right.
The moment he hit the ground, Flamebae was gone. A crackle and he hurtled into the sky like a meteor. Robert had to cup a hand over his eyes to watch him go, tracing his path through the sky. And Robert is left to trudge away, mulling over the strange night.
Another night in, in his lonely apartment.
And tomorrow, SDN.