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Robert has gotten used to a wide array of Z-Team sounds since starting his job at SDN. Prism and Malevola arguing over something stupid and usually minuscule. Punch Up taking as many calls as he can, just to see if how many problems he can solve by punching the perpetrator in the balls. Golem meandering around town, pseudo-feet slamming against the sidewalk. Flambae, cracking terrible jokes and being the only one to laugh at them.
As strange as it would have sounded to the Robert of a few weeks ago, he likes this job. The atmosphere, the energy, his team. It feels a little weird to call it his team, when all he does it tell then where to go, but he’s warming up to the idea of it every day. It’s better than staying home, staring at his Mecha Man suit like he used to. This work is fulfilling. Almost as fulfilling as hero work.
The more he gets to know the Z-Team, the better equipped he is to send them into the field. Shifts seem to go by in the blink of an eye, and each day feels better than the last. The “team connection” that Blond Blazer was hoping for is finally coming together. And Robert feels really good about it.
Halfway through the week, in the middle of a shift, Robert gets a call about an attempted bank robbery. He scans his available team members.
“Sonar, how do you feel about heists?”
“Wish I was doing it,” Sonar says over comms, “but I guess the next best thing is stopping it.”
“Atta boy,” Robert says. “First Choice Financial on West Second is getting robbed. Go do something about that, yeah?”
“You got it, Bobert,” Sonar says, and Robert tracks him as he heads out from SDN headquarters, until another problem catches his eye. After putting out three more proverbial fires, and one real one, Robert is able to switch back to Sonar, cycling through various security cameras inside the bank.
Standing in the middle of a group of cowering civilians is a woman dressed in an all-black skintight suit, her hair tied in a bun at the bottom of her neck. Her outfit isn’t ostentatious at all—honestly, Robert thinks that if he didn’t already know who she was, he would imagine she was just some chick into weird, kinky shit.
“The Mentalist,” Robert mumbles, switching the camera again. Outside the door, he can see Sonar approaching the building, still in his human-hybrid form.
“Okay Sonar,” Robert says into the headset. “We’ve got the Mentalist inside. She’s going to try and fuck with your mind, so be prepared.”
“Fuck with my mind?” Sonar scoffs. “I don’t think so man. This thing is a steel trap. Harvard grad, remember?”
Robert can’t help but roll his eyes. “I’m serious, dude. She can do a lot of damage without lifting a finger. So either get her out of the building, or take her out before anything can happen to those people.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay dad. Just let me at her.”
“Be my guest,” Robert sighs. He switches to a camera behind the counter, watching as Sonar bursts through the glass doors.
“What’s up, Mind Freak?” He asks.
The Mentalist looks up, silent. Her gaze is blank.
“She’s freaky,” Sonar whispers into the comm, walking in a wide circle.
“Then hurry up and do something about it,” Robert says back.
Done with his survey of the situation, Sonar cracks his knuckles and breaks into a mad dash. He spreads his arms and screams, but rather quickly the confidence falls from his face. Instead of transforming, he lunges and throws a punch at the Mentalist. She ducks out of the way, returning with a barrage of her own.
“I can’t transform!” Sonar says, dodging attacks from the Mentalist. “Nothing’s happening!”
Robert’s eyes scan the screen as he switches camera angles. In the midst of the fight, the civilians rise and run for the broken front doors, emptying the bank save for the two villains.
“She’s probably influencing your mind,” Robert says, watching Sonar duck and dodge, punch and kick. “Dig deep, Sonar. You’re better than her.”
“I’m fucking trying, man!” He shouts, rounding on the Mentalist with a hit that doesn’t connect.
Robert switches his comm, eyes still on the unfolding scene.
“Malevola, I need you to help Sonar. He’s fighting the Mentalist. I thought he could do it alone, but he can’t. She’s too much.”
“Too much!” Mal shouts back, the grin evident in her tone. “Oh, he’s gonna owe me for this one.”
“I don’t care if he has to buy you drinks for the rest of the year, just get to First Choice Financial as soon as possible.”
Robert feels helpless, sitting at his desk watching Sonar fight a losing battle while waiting for Malevola to show up. It’s the one thing he actually doesn’t like about his job. That he can’t do anything but watch.
It feels like ages before Robert spots Malevola’s red skin in the corner of the camera feed, and he switches to a wide angle to get the entire scene in view.
Sonar is still fist fighting with the Mentalist, who doesn’t seem to be sweating a thing.
“Mr. Boss Man said you might need me,” Malevola teases as she enters the bank. “I’d really hate to have to clean all of this up for you, but I guess I will. Just know that you won’t get off the hook for this that easy.”
Robert waits for the usual quip from Sonar—about how he can’t pay her back for this, that he spent the last of his paycheck on coke—but hears nothing.
“Oi, Batboy,” Malevola says, bringing her broadsword to rest against her shoulder.
Robert switches the camera again, this one showing the frontside of Sonar. He’s stopped fighting, and the Mentalist has too. But there’s something about his face.
Robert feels his heart drop out of his chest.
“Mal, run!” He shouts.
It’s too late.
Sonar whips around, transforming, bones cracking and suit tearing as he grows into the gigantic bat version of himself. His claws gleam under the fluorescent lights, and he screeches, nearly causing Robert to rip his headset off.
But it’s all wrong. Because instead of turning around to attack the Mentalist, he runs forward and sinks his teeth into Malevola.
“Fuck!” Robert shouts. He imagines the entire floor of SDN can hear him, but he doesn’t care.
Malevola screams, tightens her grasp on the broadsword and swings it into the side of Sonar. It bounces off harmlessly, his skin too thick to be penetrated.
“Robert!” Malevola shouts. “Do something!”
“I’m trying!” He says, urging his brain to think of something, anything. His vision begins to blacken at the edges as he watches Sonar unclench his jaw, only to sweep his wing into Malevola, throwing her against the far wall. She falls in a heap, broadsword clattering away from her. Sonar emits another piercing yell and rises from the floor, flying at and slamming into Mal.
“Make a portal!” Robert yells. “Go anywhere, just get out of there!”
Malevola’s eyes try to concentrate, but her efforts fall apart fast. “I can’t! I don’t know what’s happening!”
Robert’s gaze shifts to the Mentalist, standing stock still, staring at Mal. She’s controlling her abilities as well as Sonar’s.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Robert shouts, standing up with so much force that he knocks his chair backwards, causing it to fall over. “Mal, leave! Now!”
But Malevola isn’t lying there anymore. Robert blinks rapidly, bringing his eyes as close as he can to the computer. It’s not Mal. No, it’s Robert’s father. He’s not wearing the suit. He has no power. He looks exactly like he did the last time Robert saw him alive.
And standing above him, black cloak and all, is Shroud.
“Dad!” Robert shouts, pounding his fist on the keyboard. He watches his father’s chest rise and fall, slowing with every breath. His body is limp, his eyes looking up to Shroud.
“Run, god dammit!”
He can’t look away from the screen. Shroud is right there. Shroud is going to kill his father, and there’s nothing Robert can do about it. He’s helpless. He’s no hero. He’s a kid who can only wear a giant, useless suit of armor. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t—
A hand lands on Robert’s shoulder, and he jumps, turning around. Chase stands there, eyes locked onto Robert’s, mouth parted in concern.
“Robert, take a break, let me handle this.”
“No! I have to help him,” Robert says. He knows how he sounds: untrained, amateurish, shaken. Unlike the dispatcher he is supposed to be.
He turns back to the computer, but his dad is gone, Malevola lying on the ground.
He squints at the screen, watching Sonar continue his tirade, tearing into Malevola, who can only raise her hands in a poor attempt to protect herself.
Chase doesn’t say anything else, just pushes Robert out of the way, snatches his headset, and gets to work. Robert stands shellshocked as Chase begins to bark orders.
The cubicle seems foggy and far away, and the world seems to tunnel to nothing. His dad was right there. He was going to die. Again.
“Robert?”
It’s not Chase’s voice. It’s not Malevola’s or Sonar’s. He snaps out of his daze and looks over his shoulder to see Invisigal. It brings him back to reality—a world where he’s failing his team and his boss and his job and his father and himself.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, beelining for the bathroom.
“Wait!” Invisigal calls, but Robert isn’t stopping. He barrels through the bathroom door and crumples onto the sink, knuckles turning white as he clutches the countertop.
He let his dad die. Robert let his dad die, and he can’t go back and fix it. And now, Malevola is going to die too, because of his incompetence in the field. Why did Blonde Blazer even give him this job? Clearly he wasn’t ready. For this, or for anything.
Becoming Mecha Man wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse.
The bathroom door creaks open on its hinges, and Robert looks up, catching his own gaze in the mirror. He’s red-faced and red-eyed, hair sticking up at all angles. Far from his best look.
“Hurry up and show yourself so we can get this over with,” he mutters, voice still a bit shaky.
Invisigal materializes, closing the bathroom door before walking over and leaning against the counter. She doesn’t say anything, and they stare at one another in the mirror for a few moments.
“You’re crying,” she finally says.
“I’m not!” He snaps, standing up straight. “I’m fucking fine.”
Invisigal’s usual demeanor seemed to vanish into thin air, replaced with a delicacy Robert has never seen.
“You’re not fine, Robert.”
He doesn’t answer, instead letting the tears roll down his cheeks.
“Chase has a handle on the situation. Mal and Sonar are going to be fine,” Visi says.
Robert isn’t sure if it’s the truth, or just placation, and he’s not sure what’s worse. The whole situation is embarrassing. He doesn’t think he will ever hear the end of this. He will have to suffer under the wrath of the Z-Team, their taunts about his crying and his inability to do his job.
“I should have been able to solve that. I’m their dispatcher, for fuck’s sake.”
“Not every problem has a simple solution,” she says with a shrug.
“Well, it’s not Chase’s job to clean up after me.” Robert ducks his head, rubbing his hands harshly down his cheeks.
“It’s fine,” Visi says. “I get it. It can be hard, being here with a bunch of wanna-be-heroes. Especially after what you’ve been through.”
Robert can’t help the words that bubble up in his throat. “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” he says, tone veering on the edge of shut the fuck up, please.
Invisigal pauses, eyes shifting before she decides to go on.
“That may be true. But I’ve watched plenty of other heroes die, and I know how it feels to lose people who are important to you. Don’t act like you’re the only one with fucking problems, Robert.”
It catches Robert off guard, and he looks into Visi’s eyes. They’re angry but earnest, and he realizes, in her own unique way, that she’s trying to help.
Robert sighs and walks over to the wall, leaning against it and sliding down. He brings his knees up and rests his elbows on them.
“I killed him.”
“Huh?”
“My dad,” Robert says.
“No, Shroud did,” Invisigal replies, footsteps patting against the tile as she takes a seat next to him.
“But I didn’t do anything to stop it.”
“You were a kid, Robert,” Visi scoffs. “What the hell were you supposed to do?”
Robert’s wondered the same thing in bed every night since he learned he lost his dad.
“I don’t fucking know.” He shakes his head and looks up, the back of his scalp hitting the wall. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
“No one ever is. No one does this job knowing that they are going to have to watch the people they love get hurt. If that were the case, I think this office might be empty, and the world would be on fire.”
“Flambae would like that,” Robert mutters, and Visi laughs lightly, bumping her shoulder against his.
“We do this because it’s the right thing to do. You said so yourself.”
Robert turns to look at her, an eyebrow raised. He isn’t sure he said that around Invisigal, but maybe she was lurking in the shadows when he did.
She smiles sheepishly. “Your dad would be proud of you, you know.”
“I’m not Mecha Man,” Robert says.
“No,” Visi concedes. “You’re more than that. You’re Robert. And I think that’s a whole lot better than Mecha Man.”