Chapter Text
Robert was 11 years old when his dad died.
Or better to say when Astral Mecha Man died.
Looking up at the sky, Robert squints his eyes at the sunny day, sweat dripping down his brow. His black suit is tacky against his skin and his fingers itch to take off the suit jacket. Afterall, it is not like anyone would notice the lack of decorum because, afterall, no one showed up.
Robert doesn’t know whether to be surprised or not, but all the same his stomach rolls with a slight feeling of nausea as he stands in the cemetery alone. The funeral turned out to be a quiet affair. There was no wake planned, no procession, no reception. Robert could stand there as long as he liked because, in the end, nobody was expecting him. No one was waiting for him to come home, just an empty house that now feels too big for him to manage by himself.
So he was the one who planned the funeral, made the calls, and went to a funeral home to choose his father’s casket.
He ended up choosing an ebony casket with soft light blue bedding on the inside, reminiscent of his father’s bedsheets and duvet. If his father was alive, Robert hopes he would approve of his choice, but in the end he knows his father wouldn’t care either way. If anything, his father would have wanted him to choose the cheapest casket, investing the extra money into the Mecha suit instead. But Robert chose to be selfish just this one time– to take comfort in the fact that his father would at least be comfortable in death.
Looking down at the fresh soil, Robert doesn’t know how long he has been standing there. His legs ache fiercely and the afternoon sun was quickly approaching the evening as the sky took on a reddish hue. Robert found himself incapable of moving, because he knew that in the end he had nothing to return to. Just as much as there is a comfort in no one expecting you, there was also a pain that in the end no one was waiting for you.
So Robert continued to stand as the sun steadily approached the horizon. It was a small blessing that it didn’t rain on Robbie Robertson’s funeral.
But for Mecha Man’s funeral it rained.
Afterall, for Mecha Man’s funeral it was a big affair, it was only fitting that the weather itself would want to set the mood.
His father was never really Robbie Robertson, in the end he was always Mecha Man. Robert always knew this, in the late hours he came home, with the bruises and scars that littered his body. Robert’s heart clenches at the thought– because in the end, he was his dad. Because there were always these fleeting moments, times where his father would soften around the edges, where cold metal would give way to the safety of a warm embrace. It was these moments that Robert treasured the most, holding them close to his chest in fear of losing them as time passes– instead he should have feared never experiencing those moments again.
Robbie Robertson may have been his father, but Mecha Man was his father’s entire life.
The point is only driven further by the crowds of people filling the streets for Mecha Man’s funeral. Memorials were erected in hours, candles lit, flowers strewn across the street, speeches conducted. All channels in the news reporting on the death of Mecha Man with somber voices. People were grieving in masses, despite the rain that drenched the streets that day. But in the end, Robert couldn’t grieve Mecha Man, instead he had to grieve for Robbie Robertson because who else would?
Robert’s eyes flutter, blinking away the dryness from staring at the setting sun. What Robert can’t get over though, despite all that time in the suit, his father’s death wasn’t in the suit. No– he died outside of the suit, no metal armor to protect him from the bullet that pierced his chest.
Despite the fact that Robbie Robertson dedicated his entire life to Mecha Man, he didn’t die as Mecha Man. And despite what the news might say, Mecha Man isn’t dead, but Robbie Robertson is. And Robbie Robertson was not killed in a kind way, not a peaceful death that happened while one was asleep, but through the betrayal that comes with trusting others. Elliot Connors was father’s friend and he was also his father’s murderer.
But Elliot made a crucial mistake, he may have killed his dad, but he did not kill Mecha Man.
Because the Mecha Man Armor was sitting in his dad’s garage right now, absent of a pilot to put it to use. People may be mourning that Mecha Man is dead, but they are also expecting a new Mecha Man to appear.
And this mantle falls to him to pick up.
Robert brings his hand up to his ear tracing along the circular notch on his earlobe, looking back down at his father’s grave. This isn’t a game anymore, it isn’t some story where the hero always wins and everything turns out fine. His father is dead, murdered by a man that he thought was his friend, by a man that Robert himself looked up to.
Robert clenched his hands, feeling his nails dig into his skin.
The sun has finally set, leaving him absent of its warmth as he turns to walk home. He should be feeling grief, sadness, or even hopelessness for the impossible weight placed upon him.
But instead–
All he feels is rage.