Chapter Text
“Well, fuck...”
Robert Robertson III, aka Mechaman, looked at the ruins of the apartment complex that used to be his home and contemplated his life choices.
The building probably should’ve been condemned anyway, and he didn’t have much in the way of possessions in there either. In fact, for most of his time living there it was just empty, with only the Mechaman suit and his dog Beef’s bed.
But in recent weeks it had come to be a home. Unbidden, a smile tugged at his lips as he thought of his team — the Z-Team — coming over for a “housewarming” party. A warmth in his chest when his co-workers—no, his friends—from SDN came over to make his place a little less depressing.
Every single one of them taking Visi’s suggestion to bring “a lamp or something” a little too literally.
Eight lamps, each as individual as the Z-Teamer who gifted it, were precious to him. It was the day they shifted from being a (barely) functional team to a (mostly) dysfunctional family.
All gone.
Robert scratched Beef’s ear, but Beef was passed out in his little fold-out doggie bed, complete with safety harness in the cockpit of his new Mechaman suit. Royd really had thought of everything.
“You think you can be Mecha-Beef for a minute while I go in and see if there’s anything to salvage?” he asked his pup. Beef snored in response. It had been a long day.
The front armor plates levered open and Robert dropped to the pavement. Still in his ruined SDN t-shirt from last night, sliced up and bloodied from Coupé’s knives.
Speaking of crazy weeks, it was wild that this time last night he had been hung upside down like a piñata, getting gutted like a fish by Coupé when she worked for Shroud — to giving her a second chance on Z-Team and spending most of the day working alongside her putting out some of the fires around Torrance.
They would need to talk about it eventually, but there was a lot of work to be done, and FEMA was going to take its sweet time getting here.so it was all hands on deck until then.
“Guardian mode,” the suit said in response, sealing the armor with Beef safely inside. After the scare with Shroud earlier today (or was it yesterday now?) he wasn't taking any chances with the little guy.
There was still so much to do, and he wouldn’t even have come home if it hadn’t been for Mandy telling him and the rest of Z-Team to go home and get some rest. The downtown LA heroes had arrived and would be taking the day shift while the Torrance crew rested for the night shift.
Robert picked his way through the rubble, finding a few things here and there. His old Mechaman superhero suit somehow survived, as did a few photos from the murder board. Sadly, only Golem’s salt lamp survived the collapse.
He sat down on a flat piece of concrete and stared out at the sunrise just starting to peek over the horizon, bathing Torrance in its warm glow. Towers of smoke still rose to the sky in great plumes. A cold beer broken at the stem that somehow still had a little beer left in it sat nearby. The Mechaman suit stood not far away on the street, looking like a knock off superhero toy that had been dropped in the box far too many times, standing with its hands on its hips surveying the area.
Robert started as his phone vibrated.
[Mandy]: You make it home okay?
He smiled, thinking of his boss and… girlfriend? They hadn’t really discussed what they were before everything went to shit. But she rescued him from Shroud by tracking his phone, so… I guess it’s kind of serious.
[Robert]: Yep, safe and sound.
[Robert]: What time do you want us to come back to work?
[Mandy]: 1800. Try and get some rest, the DTLA team will be just fine without us.
[Mandy]: Do you need anything?
A place to sleep? he thought. But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to type it out.
[Robert]: Nope, I’m good. See you tonight?
[Mandy]: Can’t wait.
Fuck. The way she said that did stuff to his stomach. He felt a little guilty about lying by omission regarding the state of his home, but he didn’t want her to stress about him. She was already carrying the weight of Torrance on her shoulders, and now she didn’t even have superpowers to do it.
He’d be fine.
Robert sent a quick message to the Z-Team group chat to let them know. It seemed like everyone was coordinating to make sure everyone had a place to sleep through the day. His message informing them that they would be working the night shift was met with the expected groans. But he knew they would be complaining no matter when they had to work.
Another message startled him. Not the group chat, but still one of the Z-team. At least, that's the way it seemed things were going.
[Invisigal]: Finally out of surgery! And the drugs they gave me? Fuckin lit.
[Robert]: They only just got you out of surgery? How come it took so long?
[Invisigal]: It didn’t, was only under for six hours. I was just lower priority on the thingy.
[Robert]: Thingy?
[Invisigal]: You remember in Saving Private Ryan when they’re deciding which injured soldier to help and which ones are goners? The hospital does that too.
[Robert]: Triage?
[Invisigal]: That’s it. They had patients that needed more help than me so I let them take care of them first. Like a fucking hero would.
Robert smiled, taking a sip of beer. And she called Blazer a dork.
[Invisigal]: Doc says I should be out by tomorrow morning. Hopefully earlier if I can annoy everyone enough.
That drew a laugh, and he found himself smiling at his problematic protégé.
[Invisigal]: Hey, I’ll never be brave enough to say this sober, or to your face, but I’m sorry for kissing you.
Immediately Robert’s mind was in the aftermath of Z-Team’s “request” to have Invisigal kicked from the team. Seeing the door to the conference room close on its own and knowing she had watched him agree with the team that she needed to be cut.
Following her to the locker room to support her in the aftermath.
The confession.
“I was there that night.”
Forgiving her.
“You did villain shit while you were a villain. Does it change things that you directed it at me? No. It doesn’t. That’s in the past. You’re not the same person that was there that night… neither am I.”
Then the confession.
“All I wanted was for you to look at me the same way you look at Blazer… even if it was just once, you know? That’d have been enough.”
The thunk against the lockers. Warm lips searing his. The scent of cigarettes, bourbon, and something impossibly sweet was an intoxicating blend. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a fraction of a moment he kissed back—desperate to convey the feeling and affection he had for her.
But this was the wrong way.
Wasn’t it?
His hands hesitated, Visi’s bare waist scorching his fingertips.
The decision.
Pull her close — betray Mandy but finally voice all these swirling feelings without words and make sure she stays a hero, even if not a member of Z-team.
Push her away — do the right thing and trust that the hard work they had done together over the past weeks would pay off and she wouldn't find herself regressing to villainy.
His hands burned as he pushed.
“Visi, no!” voice hoarse with desire.
And she was gone.
Robert blinked. Another memory hit.
Visi was on the ground, blood pooling out of her shoulder and onto the roof of the ruined SDN building.
Red clouded his vision and white-hot rage boiled over. By the time he came to, Shroud was on the ground beneath him, his face a wreckage of bruises and broken bones.
“Please…” he croaked.
It would be so easy to end him. Just reach out and close his fingers around Shroud’s throat. Vengeance for everything he had done. All the lives he had taken.
A life for a life.
But the thought had barely centered before he banished it. With a kick to Shroud’s ribs, he ran over to Visi.
[Robert]: Don’t worry about it, Vis. Emotions were pretty high that day. We’re good.
He hated saying it like that. It belittled her feelings, which were surely still rattling around in her heart.
And maybe he was saying it for himself more than for her. A cheap bandage over a wound he hadn’t figured out how to treat yet.
He finished off his beer, the sun now fully over the horizon. His stomach twisted anxiously as the minutes went on without even the animated “…” to show she was typing.
No response.
The cockpit of Mechaman sealed around him. Beef’s ear scritched. Surviving belongings safely stowed.
The display in front of him showed the ruined building that used to be his dilapidated apartment — the same place he had, from his perspective, just dropped one of Shroud’s goons from the balcony just a few weeks ago.
It had been a place of fond memories and depression. Of loneliness and found family. Of so many ups and downs.
“Well, I guess we’re homeless now, buddy.”