Chapter Text
Flambae hadn’t planned for his first ever meet and greet with Mecha Man to be in the very building he was incinerating to ashes. In any other scenario, he would be excited to meet the Mecha Man. Except now he was also actively fighting said hero, desperately trying not to be put into fucking prison.
“Damage is done. All I want is a conversation” A stony voice called, only to be met with a tiny cluster of mini meteors thrown at him. Fuck, this villain wasn’t going to go down easily.
Adrenaline coursed through Flambae as he bid his time hidden in his flames, what the hell was he supposed to say??? He didn’t rehearse meeting Mecha Man, especially not talking to him. Fuck. It’s definitely too late to make a good impression isn’t it? Though luckily he never got to finish his thought, as the man of the hour rudely crashed through the wall he leaned against, grabbing at him. Eh, he didn’t hate the attention.
Flambae’s hands turned into a charred black as his flame heated and rose to unforgiving temperatures, backing the and trapping the blue hunk of metal beneath its force.
“Fuck… I’m just getting warmed up.” Said a strained voice coming through the speakers.
The villain’s mouth twisted into a smirk, who knew Mecha Man would actually fare so horribly against him? To think he was ever nervous. Though Flambae was of course the most badass and powerful villain of all time, maybe it wasn’t so unexpected afterall. He wasn’t even giving it his all, though he was fairly close, he couldn’t risk killing the hero. That wouldn’t be very good at all. He needed to find out who Mecha Man was first, maybe force him to sign an autograph or two, then… well he could figure it out later.
“So… Mecha Man, is that all you’ve got? I’m almost disappointed.” He lied, he’s never been so excited in his fucking life.
As Flambae stepped closer and closer, almost absentmindedly, he hadn’t noticed the robotic figure shifting his stance. Just as the shield was about to give away and melt into a golden goo, a bright flash of blue shot out from one of Mecha Man’s arms, and before Flambae could react, his ability to count to ten with his fingers were lost forever.
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Since the fight, Flambae has had much time to maul it over and think about things in jail. He couldn’t make up his mind whether he got one of the coolest autographs ever, or if he should actually hate Mecha Man now. Could Mecha Man really do wrong? Maybe if he was more careful where he put his fingers, or if he didn’t set the building on fire… Flambae let out a gruff sigh as he flopped onto the thin mattress of his cell. There was a beat in his Mecha Man shaped heart, before it deflated and gave way to hatred.
Who did Mecha Bitch think he was anyways…
Once Flambae served his time and got out on the Phoenix program, he cringed as he peered through his apartment door. His flat was exactly how he’d left it the day he decided he needed to let his rage boil over, though maybe a bit dusty. There were posters of Mecha Man plastered all over his walls next to Prism’s albums, and rows of Mecha Man collectable figurines chaotically organized in every nook and cranny. Flambae cursed the person he used to be. Ignoring the glares that now seemed to emit from the figures, flambae tried to sit down and drink a much missed cup of home-brewed coffee, until he realized all his mugs were Mecha Man themed and promptly slammed the cupboard shut. He definitely didn’t check if they were okay after he heard the glass clinking inside.
“Fuck… who the hell filled up my flat with all this garbage?!” He cursed as he went to change into more comfortable clothing. He was met with rows of Mechaman merch in his closet.
“Fuck.” Maybe if he tried to relax and read a book or something. He casually picked up the first paperback he saw, “Mecha Man Blue, the Mecha Man of the Modern Era.” The ex-villain almost set it on fire, rage only contained by the single digits of his bank account and knowledge that the first edition comic was worth more than a month’s rent.
“FUCK.” he yelled for the final time, really looking at his old home around for the first time. There were blue spots littered all over the otherwise orange and black interior of Flambae’s carefully curated apartment.
The afternoon originally planned to be spent filling out forms for the Phoenix Program with Prism was promptly canceled, despite protest from his bestie, for an emergency deep cleaning of his home that was rudely infiltrated. Prism begrudgingly showed up an hour later to help.
“Damnnn bitch, you said you were cleaning not picking up the whole damn house!” Prism laughed as she strolled past the war zone of boxes that’s accumulated near the front door.
“I can’t believe you let me live like this. And I thought you were a real friend.” Flambae feigned heartbreak as he (carefully) tossed a Mecha Man Blue figurine into one of the boxes. He didn’t exactly know what he planned to do with the boxes, it’s been a while since he last familiarized himself with the Mecha Man market, but he knew his fall wouldn’t have done the items’ value justice.
“Don’t play with me Flambae, nobody did this to yourself but you bitch.” Prism teased as she helped her friend shove everything into his giant closet.
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Flambae stretched after downing several drinks at the bar, satisfied after a successful day of setting his old dispatcher’s car on fire, serves the bitch right. Coop and Punch Up chatted it up next to him, something about trying knife play… Flambae wasn’t following. His eyes roamed the room, thoughts drifting to something about wishing Prism was here, before it settled on a masked hero he knew all too well. Mecha Man.
“Shite, I thought the lad was dead!” Punch Up remarked as he followed Flambae’s eyes. Coop looked and promptly turned back, interested, and pulled Punch Up back to another conversation. But Flambae’s eyes stayed glued. He’d hardly realized who Mecha Man was talking to until he spat a cup of… whatever it was… onto the person’s face. What the fuck? That shook Flambae out of his trance as the blonde- Blonde Blazer, walked away. Before he could even think, the fiery hero nudged his two companions, urging them to follow as he shifted off the bar stool. Coop and Punch Up gave each other a look, but followed, interested.
“Hey! Bitch!” Flambae called out. “Hey! I’m talkin to you bitch!” Flambae leaned in closer now, making sure the masked hero knew exactly who he was talking to.
Mecha Man turned around -because there was shouting, not because he was a bitch or anything- to find a flaming fist flying directly towards his face. With the reflex of a man who’s been in a medically induced coma for the past 5 months, he dodged the punch swiftly, with an approving nod from Coop in the background. But then a wince from even Punch Up as Flambae landed another less than flaming fist directly to the retired hero’s stomach, catching him off balance.
“What… the hell…?” Mecha Man wheezed as he clutched his abs, looking up at his attacker for the first time. The flames were immediately familiar. Where had he seen him before? Flames… a horrible attitude… quick to spark… a punch lacking in fingers… a punch lacking in fingers? The hero’s eyes shifted down to confirm his suspicions, and he was right, it was the fire villain he’d busted all those years ago. A pang of guilt rose up his throat, before it was quickly fried by the blistering hand that wrapped around his throat.
“I’ll give you one chance to get this right. Mecha Bitch.” He squeezed, lifting the rather light weight man from his stool. “You’re really gonna act like you don’t remember me?” Not that he cared if he remembered him from their little fight. He didn’t. At all. He effectively covered his slight blush with partial flames that erupted around the surface of his shoulders.
Robert’s oxygen deprived brain raced: Mr. Wet Ponytail? Dr. Don’t do shit? Sunglasses at Night Guy? Fuck he couldn’t pick which he liked the most. Instead, he reached blindly behind him for a glass of anything. His hand just so happened to land on the glass of water he was nursing. Casually, without missing a beat, he extinguished the scene with a cup of ice water to the fire dude’s head, so much for washing down the alcohol. Unsurprisingly, that wasn’t the end of it. Flambae growled, glowering at the coughing, otherwise unfazed Mecha Bitch in front of him. Giggles and snickering surrounded them now.
“Fucking Mecha Dick… you- you-” Steam sizzled off of a humiliated Flambae. This was not the kind of wet he liked to be. He lunged at him in blind rage, forgetting about the slip hazard that was freshly created on the floor in front of him. Soon enough, he was on the floor, several mini Mecha Mans floated in circles in front of his eyes, was he dreaming?
“Flambae!”
Oh. Right. His name was Flambae.
Punch Up had the decency to be worried, running to place his fallen tooth into the left-over cup of alcohol as Coop poked at the half conscious man. “Well… we’re out.” Coop sighed as she dragged his limb body to what Mecha Man would hopefully assume as a hospital.
He rubbed his neck again, wondering how he was going to explain the suspicious handprint to Blazer when she came back. He’s never been so confused in his entire life.
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Flambae woke up the next morning with the taste of iron in his mouth. He was not taken to a hospital, or anything of the sort, and he could not have been more thankful. He did not have an ounce of American healthcare or whatever bullshit scam hospitals pulled these days. He was a super, what did he need healthcare for anyways? Also he was poor and couldn’t afford it. But that was besides the point. He groaned as he fell off the couch Coop and Punch Up must’ve tucked him in last night, and almost drank from the disgusting cup of whatever the fuck with his front tooth laying inside. Guess the tooth fairy wasn’t real afterall.
Brushing his teeth to get out the rancid taste of blood, Flambae got a full view of his three fingers holding up the toothbrush, brushing against his perfect row of teeth, now with a gaping hole in the center. Flambae couldn’t tell if he now had two awesome autographs, or if he wanted to kill Mecha Man.