Chapter Text
“I appreciate you coming to see this,” Robert said as he screwed in a final component on the proto-type Mecha Man suit. “Your support means a lot.”
“More than a lot!” Punch Up replied through the intercom. “It means nine-hundred and thirty-six American Dollars. Cash, lad.”
“We’re only here because these broke asses want proof they pay,” Prism said disgustedly.
Robert felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a faint smile. “That actually makes way more sense.”
“Can’t believe you actually hung out with these fuckers,” Chase grumbled.
“You jealous, old man?” Invisigal taunted.
Robert shook his head and fiddled with a few more screws while Visi and Chase bickered. Chase might have the body of an old man these days, but he still talked enough shit to be a teenager. It kind of worked with the grandpa aesthetic. All he needed was a cane to complete the “get off my lawn” look.
“Okay, Proto Pulse test nineteen ready to commence,” Royd announced, voice cutting through the bickering. “We good when you good, Mecha Man.”
Robert set down his screw driver and picked up the small vial that held a spiraling, glowing double-helix. The only thing to separate it visually from the original Astral Pulse was the masking tape label pasted along its side.
“Engaging Proto Pulse….” Robert reached up and slid the tube into its housing chamber in the roof of the mech with a quiet clink. “Now.” He twisted the housing unit shut and the suit lit up around him as energy flooded through the screens on every side.
God, it felt good to be in the mech again.
Robert had spent half his life behind these controls. He didn’t realize until now just how much not being in the suit had felt like a missing limb.
“All readings supah stable,” Royd said proudly. “Here we go. Time to make your grand re-entrance.”
Robert pressed a few buttons on his main screen and felt the mech awake further around him. He let out a breath of air that seemed to release something tight in his chest along with it and let himself settle more firmly into his harness. “Alright. Ready for launch.”
“Rahja dat.”
The Z-Team was unusually quiet as Robert flicked a few switches and finally took hold of the controls. The rest of the monitors lit up with readings and the mech’s visor began to glow. Robert gave the controls a gentle nudge and the suit responded perfectly.
He knew exactly how cool he looked as a bit of smoke cleared from the viewing glass and the Z-Team got a full look of the suit in all of its glory. Robert felt entitled to at least a little bit of showmanship after all the shit the team had given him.
Prism crowed about her winning the bet and the other members of the team begrudgingly handed over the promised cash.
Robert flipped another few switches and marveled at how it felt as natural as breathing. Hell, it felt like he was getting his first full breath of air in months. He moved the controls and the suit leapt to respond in a series of shadow-boxing moves.
“Not bad, right?”
Chase grunted. “Looks better than the original.”
Invisigal hummed doubtfully. “The smoke is a little overkill.”
Robert continued his testing shadow-boxing and tried not to grin too broadly at the feeling of actual strength under his hands after so long. “I thought the same too, but I think the purple is a nice touch.”
Royd must have added something for the aesthetics.
“... what smoke?”
Or, maybe not.
Fuck.
“Shut it down!” Royd was suddenly yelling and not a moment later the screens around Robert began flashing warnings.
The Proto Pulse sparked in its housing unit and the controls under Robert’s fingers beeped with sudden fury as he desperately tried to get the machine back under control. He could hear shouting from outside the mech, but he didn’t have time to focus on it as the mech listed to the side and flailed between the walls of the workshop.
The warnings on the screens were getting more desperate and Robert coughed as smoke began to fill the cockpit.
The suit suddenly stabilized as Royd appeared outside and held it in a bear-hug.
The smoke was getting worse.
Robert stabbed at the eject button and there was a single second where at least one screen turned green before the front of the suit popped open and Robert’s chair shot him out with all the grace of a cannon-ball.
“Get down!”
Robert felt Royd grab the back of the chair Robert was still strapped to and drag them both behind the nearest partial cover of a workshop table. Royd curled over him protectively and Robert caught a glimpse of his suit shaking and practically screaming with alarms.
Everything went white.
He didn’t even hear the explosion past the ringing in his ears.
***
“Bruddah, can you hear me?”
Robert blinked and found Royd staring down at him with desperate concern. Blood was trickling down Royd’s forehead and right arm was hanging wrong at his side.
At least he was alive.
“I’m fine,” The response was automatic, but Robert was surprised to find that it was mostly true. He didn’t seem to be bleeding, on fire, or even concussed despite maybe blacking out for a few seconds there.
He was still strapped to the ejected pilot seat of the flaming corpse that used to be his mech suit, but other than that he was doing fine.
A jagged portal ripped through the blocked door and Malevola and Invisigal raced through with Prism and Punch Up only a step behind. There was a flurry of motion and Robert was cut out of the seat and being rather forcefully checked over for injuries before he could verbalize a protest.
“Can someone put out the fire at least before you smother me?” He finally managed to get out.
Golem ripped the workshop door off its hinges and promptly smothered the fire with a cascade of his dirt.
Robert nodded his thanks and turned back to Royd who was looking at the suit in shellshock. “You ok, Royd?”
Royd slowly dragged his eyes away from the smoldering metal and nodded slowly. “I okay, Bro.”
Chase shuffled through the ruined doorway and Robert distantly wondered how much it hurt the man to go from being the fastest person around to one of the last to enter a room. “Give the man some room. Gonna suffocate the poor fucker.”
The Z-Team reluctantly backed off a bit, and Robert managed to find his feet. He felt a little wobbly, but it wasn’t anything worse than standing up too quickly after having his legs fall asleep. His back and shoulder hurt, but those always hurt, so, he wasn’t too concerned.
“Let’s get you to medical, Royd,” Robert said wearily, nudging Royd’s uninjured shoulder and prodding him towards the door.
Royd was staring at the mech again and he was slow to look away. “Okay, bruddah.”
“Make sure they take a look at you too, Robert,” Chase said gruffly. “I don’t want you keeling over before me.”
“So, he only has to hang in there for about five more minutes?” Visi asked, the bantering tone sounding rather forced.
“Oh, fuck off.”
The procession to the medical bay was somber despite the Z-Team attempting to revert to their regular teasing. Robert wasn’t in the mood to fake being amused, and all of the ribbing at his expense ended up falling flat. The group was silent by the time they arrived at the med bay.
SDN kept a doctor and a few nurses on staff, and Royd and Robert were quickly rushed to beds to be looked at. Robert attempted to shoo the nurse who tried to examine him away to check Royd first, but she leveled him with a glare and refused to budge.
“The doctor is already looking at him. He’ll be fine, but no one will be happy if you pass out from internal bleeding because you’re being a stubborn hero.”
“Yeah, Robert, don’t be a hero,” Malevola said with a conspiratory grin.
Robert smiled thinly and reluctantly complied with the poking and prodding by medical professionals. He did his best to ignore the Z-Team staring at him when he had to remove his shirt for the check-up.
As expected, Robert was declared perfectly fine apart from a few bruises (which he always seemed to have in large supply) and a light amount of smoke inhalation. Royd had clearly taken the brunt of the damage and he was being fitted for a cast while a bandage was being wrapped around the cut on his forehead. Robert was only grateful the damage didn’t seem to be too serious.
“Alright, enough staring,” Chase decided, shooing the Z-Team out of the room. “You mother-fuckers have work to do.”
Robert moved to follow the team out and Chase stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Not you, dumbass. You’re taking the rest of the day off.”
Robert lifted his hands defensively. “I didn’t even get hurt.”
“Call it a break for my blood pressure,” Chase retorted. “Go home and take a nap or some shit.”
“My job is to literally sit at a desk.”
“Stop arguing with me, mother-fucker. What happened to respecting your elders?”
Robert looked a bit closer and noticed the way Chase was clenching his hands agitatedly. “Chase. I’m fine. Really.”
Chase glanced to the side. “Fine. Great. You’re still taking the rest of the day off. I’ll handle the criminals for today.”
Robert sighed but quietly decided that this was a battle he wouldn’t win. “You know I’m an adult now, right? You don’t have to keep babysitting me?”
Chase bristled like a porcupine. “Oh, really? You act like a little bitch, so, I must not have noticed.” He huffed and turned to stalk out of the medical bay– muttering about “goddamn idiots” the entire time.
Robert sighed and turned back to find Royd free of doctors– fully bandaged with a sling around his arm. “Are you sure you’re ok, man?”
Royd began to nod, then shook his head miserably. “I’m sorry, bruddah. I lied.”
Robert stepped closer with a light frown creasing his forehead. “About what?”
“I cannot recreate the Astral Pulse. Too much power. Too small a size.”
Robert felt his heart drop out of his chest. “Come on, Royd. This was just a setback. I believe you can do it.”
Royd shook his head more firmly. “You could have died, bro.”
Robert had been in his suit again even if only for a few minutes. He had been Mecha Man again, and now it was being ripped away from him again? He had finally dared to hope that he could still fulfill the family legacy, and that hope was being shattered in front of him.
“Royd.” Robert was ashamed of the way his voice broke on the word. “We can keep trying.” He held out his hand for a fist-bump. “Together, man. Right?”
Royd shook his head and stood to leave. “I’m sorry, bro. It’s ovah.” He walked past Robert’s proffered fist and out the door without looking back.
Robert watched him go and felt something inside of himself break.
The whole fucking reason he had joined SDN in the first place was for a chance at getting his suit back. He had put up with sitting on the sidelines and just directing other heroes around like an overglorified navigation system. Hell, he had even started to see a future where he still worked with the Z-Team after getting his suit back.
But all of that had hinged on him being Mecha Man again.
Without the suit, he was just fucking Robert Robertson– the family fuck-up. He was the only Robertson who had broken the family tradition and not died in the suit, and somehow he was still a failure.
Robert let out a yell of frustration and fisted a hand in his hair.
If he wasn’t a hero, what did he have left?
What was he worth to anybody if he couldn’t save lives?
What was he worth at all?
Robert forced his fingers to release his hair and let out a forceful exhale before he quickly exited the infirmary. He turned down the hall back towards the workshop and slowly entered– keeping eyes out for Royd. The coast was clear, and Robert slowly stepped over the littered debris on the floor to stand before the ruined remains of the mech suit.
He had tried so hard to keep going. He had made it through a coma and woken up ready to repair the pieces.
Robert leaned down and picked up the mech suit’s helmet off of the ground. The visor was shattered and the broken glass sliced his finger when he traced its edge.
He had tried so hard.
And for what?
An empty bank account and an emptier apartment? A dead-end job behind the desk telling real heroes where to go?
Flambae had been right. He wasn’t a hero anymore.
Mecha Man had died months ago, and Robert should have died along with him.
He hadn’t defeated Shroud (and now he never would), but at least he would have died a hero like his dad and grandfather before him. At least then his death might have meant something.
Robert was just so tired of trying.
The empty mask stared up at him from his hands like a skull.
Mecha Man was dead….
…. Robert was Mecha Man.
Robert should be dead.
… Maybe it was time to do something about that….