Chapter Text
Robert Robertson (the third) walked into the SDN offices with a rotund chihuahua in his arms on what had to be the most dismal Tuesday of the year.
The sky was slate grey with stratus clouds that fully blocked the sun, and the air was damp and warm like your own breath being blown back on you when you pull the covers over your head. It was the kind of day that leached color from the world until everything looked like those sepia filters put over films set in Mexico.
Robert’s short-sleeve work shirt had been clinging to his back from sweat when he was barely a block away from his apartment. Beef had refused to walk after the first few minutes, and Robert was forced to carry his spoiled dog the rest of the way to the office.
He had yet to have coffee (or breakfast, but that was standard) and Robert had slept like shit the night before. Granted, it was hard to sleep well on a plastic lawn chair, but he usually managed at least four hours of sleep. He probably was looking more dead than alive as he approached his little cubicle and dropped Beef into his bed under the desk.
Robert flopped into his cheap swivel chair and gave himself a moment to pretend he was somewhere less depressing– like prison, or a garbage dump– before resigning himself to the work-day ahead and reaching for his dispatcher headset. His hand brushed a piece of paper that hadn’t been on his desk the night before, and Robert brought himself to attention a bit more to inspect what turned out to be a flyer for a local ballet.
Swan Lake – showing at the Torrance Cultural Arts Center Tuesday, 7:30-9:30 PM!
Join us for a night of wonder! A spellbinding tale of love, betrayal, and redemption comes to life as San Pedro City Ballet—home of American Ballet Theatre superstar Misty Copeland—presents the timeless classic Swan Lake.
Robert squinted at the flyer and tried to figure out how it could have landed on his desk. Someone must have left it for him, but he couldn’t think of why.
He set the flyer back down and picked up his headset. The moment he slid the headphones on, the cacophony of nine arguing voices accosted his ears like it did every morning.
There was a time that he might have hoped that coming together to defeat Shroud would have smoothed out the rougher edges of the Z-Team, but he knew better now. Well, it had helped in a way. The team still fought more than toddlers at daycare, but the arguing had less genuine heat behind it and everyone worked together well enough in the field. It was just Robert who had to deal with the pain of constant bickering in his ears.
“Good morning, team,” he greeted dryly. “What are we arguing about today?”
“I don’t think South America has bears,” Courtney declared boldly.
“Which is stupid!” Victor retorted heatedly. “Of course they have bears.”
“Bring me to South America and they will have at least one bear,” Chad snickered.
“We should go check,” Malevola suggested, sounding moments away from making a portal.
“Why don’t you believe South America has bears?” Robert asked wearily– already regretting continuing this conversation.
“I don’t know, man. It’s all deserts and shit. Have you ever seen a bear in a desert?”
“A-actually,” Herman spoke up hesitantly. “There’s a lot of forests and jungle. Some species of bears can– they live there.”
“You think all of South America is a desert?” Alice scoffed. “Damn, bitch, you’re sounding racist.”
“I’ve never seen a bear,” Colm said thoughtfully. “I bet I could take one in a fight.”
“Sounds fuzzy,” Bruno remarked.
Robert finished typing a quick google search and readjusted his mic. “Alright, looks like there’s one native bear species to South America. Happy now? Can we please start working?”
“Ha! You owe me fifty bucks,” Victor crowed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Courtney said sullenly. “Just because you went to Harard doesn’t make you a genius.”
“But I was right.”
A call alert popped up on Robert’s screen.
“Team.” Robert said sharply with an edge of pleading in his tone. “I have an overturned semi-truck on Hawthorne and Del Amo. If we’re done with the biology lesson, could we start doing our actual jobs?”
“I’m on it,” Golem rumbled.
“Chill, Bob Bob,” Chad said. “We’re just having a team discussion. That’s good, no?”
“Let’s focus on team bonding after the work day.”
The morning shift after that actually did go smoothly. Bruno took care of the semi without issue, Chad and Alice tag-teamed a press conference in style, Courtney found an older woman’s cat, Malevola, Victor, and Herm busted a budding arms dealer, and Colm and Coupé shut down another fight club operation.
The team really did work well together these days. Sure, there were rough spots. Courtney hadn’t been forgiven immediately after her connection to Shroud had been revealed, and Coupé still acted a bit aloof from everyone but Colm in the group after her own betrayal. Katon-Ur had returned to his old team with the improvement of his mental health, and Herman was still painfully awkward at times. It wasn’t perfect, but it was shockingly better from the team Robert had first met.
The Phoenix Program wasn’t just a group of former villains anymore– they really were new heroes.
Lunch break rolled around and Robert was just about to leave his desk to get his daily twinkie and coffee from the vending machine when Colm walked past.
“Hey, did one of you leave this on my desk?” Robert asked, holding up the ballet flyer. “I found it this morning.”
“Ah, that would be from Coop,” Colm chuckled.
Robert’s brows creased in confusion. He hadn’t been on bad terms with Coupé since her return to the team, but he hadn’t made much effort to be friendly either. He interacted with her as her boss and dispatcher, but Coupé usually kept quiet and had no issues on her assignments, and she seemed to avoid Robert outside of calls. Robert had gotten the sense that she was just as awkward about the whole betrayal and revenge thing as he was.
“Did she leave it here on accident?”
Colm shook his head. “That’s as much of an invitation to hang out as you’re likely to get, lad. I know for certain she has two tickets ready.”
Robert was still confused. “Why?”
Colm let out a gently scoffing chuckle at Robert’s expression. “It’s a white flag, lad. I suggest you take it.”
The afternoon shift passed just as well as the morning’s. There were some murmurings of bomb threats in addition to their standard calls, but nothing came of it and the Z-Team was done with work and clocked out by five.
Coupé found Robert at his desk as he was packing up to leave.
“Punch Up informed me that you saw the flyer I left.” Coupé’s voice was just as unnervingly monotone and quiet as always and her expression was unreadable beneath her mask. “Are you going to attend?”
Robert glanced back at the flyer. “Uh, yeah, I guess so. I don’t know much about ballet, but I’m willing to try it.”
Coupé nodded sharply. “Good. I will meet you at the theatre at seven P.M. exactly. Please, do not be late.”
Robert blinked. “Don’t be late. Got it.”
Coupé nodded again and quickly walked off without another word.
Robert looked down at where Beef was lying patiently under his desk and sighed. “Well, bud. Looks like I’m going out tonight.”
***
Janelle was bad at people.
Make no mistake, she was an expert on the physiology of humans. She knew exactly how the body worked and exactly how to kill someone with a hundred different knife placements. Blood and viscera and all of the things stretched between skin and soul were perfectly understandable.
But people? The thing thinking in the brain and adjusting the muscles of the face? Janelle felt like she had missed the instruction book everyone else had been supplied with when becoming conscious to the world.
Even before she was Coupé (and she had learned to be a weapon far before she had learned to be a child), Janelle had always been too sharp to touch. People reacted to her like a blade– flinching back or handling only with careful experience and control. She reached out to people and always seemed to cut them by accident.
Colm was the first person that had been cut and survived– been cut and still stayed.
The Z-Team was the next group of people that had seemed willing to give Janelle a chance. They were hard to understand, antagonistic, and generally inefficient at their jobs, but they seemed willing to accept Janelle’s brand of “weird” without much question. She had started a small book club with Alice and spent several quiet breaks beside Malevola. She was still considered unusual, but somehow that made her fit in with the group of outcasts.
And then, Coupé had been cut from the team, and she had been surprised by her own level of devastation.
She had a reputation for being a heartless killer. She was meant to be unfeeling. Emotions complicated jobs. Emotions made work sloppy.
Emotions led to impulsively joining with someone like Shroud just for the hope of revenge.
Coupé had helped torture Robert and she had enjoyed it. She had fought Robert and Blonde Blazer at the SDN building with a blind fury buzzing in her ears even as they tried to reason with her.
And somehow, after the dust had begun to settle and Coupé was being led away to the prison cell she deserved, the Z-Team had claimed her as theirs. Robert had vouched for her. Somehow, the team had decided to give her another chance.
Janelle was determined not to waste this second (or was it third?) chance, and she performed at SDN to the absolute peak of her abilities. She had slowly been reforming her connections with the other members of the team (besides Colm who had treated the entire situation like a forgivable bad day), and she was feeling more confident in her place on the team by the day. The only person she hadn’t rekindled an amicable relationship with was Robert.
Janelle was bad at people, and worse at asking for forgiveness.
Hence, the peace offering. Bad feelings couldn’t subsist when watching a ballet. If nothing else, maybe the close quarters of the event would bring any resentful feelings to light so Janelle could deal with them directly. She did so hate having to guess if someone was mad at her or not. She generally found it safer to assume that people were, but it would be nice to have it said aloud,
Janelle had readied herself for battle by changing from her Coupé armor into her softest sweater (made from that particular type of yarn that didn’t make her want to scratch her skin off) and a perfectly worn-in pair of jeans that neatly hid her five favorite knives. She was attending the performance as a civilian, so her mask was left behind (even if its feathered design would have made for a delightful companion to the Black Swan).
At precisely six-thirty, Janelle left her quiet apartment and walked to the Cultural Arts Center. A car backfiring in the street and an arguing couple she passed made her hands twitch for her ear plugs, but she resisted the urge and forced her mind to quiet. She arrived at her destination at six-fifty-four, and she waited stiffly on the sidewalk outside the building for Robert to arrive.
Her shoulders tensed further with every minute that ticked past. Other ballet-goers began to arrive and brought with them sound and uncertainty that set Janelle on edge. She hated being exposed in the open like this. Her eyes were constantly scanning the growing crowd outside the theatre like a threat would present itself at any moment.
As the clock inched closer to seven, the additional worry that Robert had changed his mind about attending began to gnaw at her. Thankfully, that particular worry was laid to rest when she caught sight of a mop of ginger hair approaching through the crowd.
Robert was still wearing his SDN pollo, but the shirt appeared clean and it was tucked neatly into his pants. It was nice enough for the event, but it did make Janelle wonder if the man owned any other clothes. Did he ever go out besides the rare occasions the members of the Phoenix Program bullied him into going to a local bar?
“I am here at seven,” Robert declared– seemingly a little out of breath– as he came to a stop in front of Janelle.
Janelle nodded at him. “We should find our seats before the crowd grows any more.”
She turned to head into the theatre without waiting to see if Robert was following. A short line had formed inside for tickets to be checked, but it only took a few minutes to have both tickets scanned and the pair ushered into the auditorium.
Janelle had made certain to reserve tickets in the best area. Close enough to the stage to see everything in detail, but a few rows back to avoid any sore necks from leaning back. Near the center, but aisle seats for prime escape routes if necessary. The perfect mixture of security and a good view.
Robert seemed to be on the verge of initiating small talk a few times as the auditorium slowly began to fill for the performance, but Janelle studiously ignored his attempts in favor of watching the crowd. The ballet tended to bring a varied crowd, and there were several short heads galloping through the aisles as parents chased after. Janelle could see more than one group of women of varied ages who had gotten dressed up for a night on the town. Just a row away was a grandmother holding tight to a young girl’s hand while two middle-aged women chatted companionably. There were also quite a few couples with heads ducked close to each other while the drone of the crowd covered their giggling. She spied a man and woman who were likely in their seventies who were both paying little attention to each other even as they held hands tightly.
“Do you come to these often?” Robert asked, following her eyeline across the crowd.
“Occasionally. It is more enjoyable with company, and Colm has attended with me before.”
Robert got a look in his eye that was frustrating if only because Janelle couldn’t put a definition to it. “I appreciate you inviting me. I don’t think I’ve ever been to anything ‘cultured’ before.”
Janelle shot Robert a sideways look like the warning edge of a knife checked for sharpness. “The point is not to caricature culture, Robert. Dance and music are not beautiful just because other people say so.”
Robert tilted his head consideringly. “That’s a fair point. I guess I never really had time to try it out.”
“Then, it is good you are here now.”
The theatre lights flickered in warning of the performance about to begin and the live orchestra in the pit just a few rows away began tuning in a beautifully discordant jumble of sounds and instruments. The audience quieted as the last stragglers hurriedly found their seats, and the lights fully dimmed.
The first melancholic flute notes of the opening piece rang out across the crowd and Janelle felt her shoulders relax. The violins joined the flute and the music notes danced on the air like dancers themselves. The music crescendoed and decrescendoed as the rest of the brass and string instruments joined in and Janelle’s fingers twitched like she was the one directing.
Finally, with a grand burst of energy from the orchestra, the curtains rose to reveal a group of men dancing merrily across the stage in front of a forest background. A group of maidens ran to join the men on stage a minute later and the jester Sautéd amongst the frolicking group.
With another crescendo of the orchestra and with the attendants bowing in preparation, the prince sashayed into view in all of his glory. He held his head high and his body made sleek lines as he posed center stage while the crowd applauded his entrance. He was the embodiment of all the good male love interests in Janelle’s books. Tall, strong, respected, and elegantly powerful. Performance or no, it still gave her a thrill as he promenaded across the stage.
A massive BOOM suddenly interrupted the orchestra, and the instruments screeched to an unexpected halt as the floor shook beneath everyone’s feet and the prince on stage lost his balance.
Someone in the audience screamed and the stage lights cut out leaving only the red glow of the emergency lights and exit signs to illuminate the darkness.
“Shit, that was a bomb,” Robert bit out, getting to his feet and fumbling with his phone. “CALMLY HEAD TO THE EXITS, PEOPLE!” he hollered above the quickly growing panic of the crowd.
Janelle shook herself out of her momentary shock of an emergency in the midst of an escape, and she slotted herself back into Coupé. The explosion had sounded close by– possibly within the building itself– and the structure was likely unstable after the blast. The civilians needed to get out as soon as possible.
Coupé silently dove into the fray to begin herding people towards the exits while Robert did his best to assist while calling someone from behind her. The performers had abandoned the stage and the orchestra pit sounded like it was in a state of chaos as everyone rushed for the exits in varying states of panic. The young girl Coupé had noticed earlier was screaming for her grandmother as she was swept along in the flowing tide of people shoving their way towards the doors. Coupé snatched the girl’s hand and did her best to shield her from the crushing throng while she scanned the crowd for the child’s grandmother.
“REMAIN CALM,” Robert bellowed with more volume than Coupé had thought him capable of. “Trampling each other helps no one!”
Coupé spied the grandmother fallen on the ground between rows of seats, and she swept the young girl into her arms to leap over the chairs between them. Coupé leaned down to help the older woman up and was relieved to find her visibly unharmed. Coupé tucked the younger girl’s hand into the grandmother’s and gently pushed the pair towards the nearest exit.
A low rumble of another explosion rippled through the air and the theatre trembled like a palm tree caught in a cross wind. A metal beam of rigging lighting broke free of its attachments above the stage and crashed into the wooden floor below. A disturbingly loud CRACK sounded from the ceiling above and Coupé had the sharp realization that the roof would fall any moment now.
“Robert, we need to leave!” She called out sharply towards the dimly lit silhouette of her dispatcher still standing near the front of the auditorium.
“Get the civilians out first,” he called back before darting in the wrong direction of the exit to help ferry a panicking group of teenagers.
Coupé cursed to herself and focused on making sure everyone was either out or on their way to the exit. There would doubtlessly be some injuries from the mad rush for the exits, but at least it seemed like the theatre had cleared out now. There was a sudden silence with the crowd disappearing and the flashing red emergency lights only added to the haunting ambience.
“Robert,” she called out again warningly, beginning to head for the exit herself.
Another, even more distant, explosion reverberated through the ground and the cracking sounds were louder this time. Everyone else had evacuated but them at this point, and if they didn’t leave now they would be buried beneath the building’s rubble.
Coupé heard a crash and a cut-off scream from behind her that stopped her in her tracks. A look over her shoulder revealed that Robert had been caught beneath another falling rigging light and was now pinned by his leg. Coupé turned back to help him with barely a thought even as the building continued to shake apart around them.
“Get out of here,” Robert snapped, futilely attempting to tug his leg free of the rigging. “I’ll be fine.”
Coupé ignored him and tried to pull the metal scaffolding away. It was heavy, but she managed to lift it enough for Robert to pull his leg free. He immediately tried to stand, but quickly collapsed again when his previously pinned leg buckled under his weight.
Coupé slotted herself beneath his shoulder and bodily hauled him towards the exit while Robert did his best to hop alongside.
They made it barely a hundred feet from the door before the ceiling let out a death knell and shuddered apart above their heads. The exit disappeared beneath a concrete beam and everything descended into roiling chaos.
Coupé dove into the orchestra pit with Robert in tow and did her best to shield the man as the world collapsed above their heads. A flying piece of rubble struck her across the head, and Coupé fell into darkness.