Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a new villain.

Well, that statement is a hyperbole, actually. This villain isn’t new by any means; they’ve been around for a couple months, long enough to make their stain permanent on this town's history. Blonde Blazer doubts she’s ever seen a person rise up the ranks as quickly as this guy, going from an unknown to a well-renowned and feared bounty hunter. Most fellow villains she’s interviewed about him– if they didn’t express unwavering adoration, that is– report even being scared of him coming after them. 

It took a while to track down the exact reason why the villain targeted who he did, why corpses ranged from powerful to barely even a vigilante. It all has something to do with the supervillain group that’d been terrorizing Los Angeles; the Red Ring.

Every death comes directly after a confrontation with the Red Ring. It mostly starts like this; the Red Ring will have a scuffle with a superhero, the superhero will over power or arrest or disable the Red Ring in some way, and that superhero will turn up dead days later. And, especially in later cases, it seems that courtesy doesn’t extend to just heroes; some villains have popped up with charred corpses after getting in the Red Ring’s way. Their corpses are always recognizable by the explosion marks scattered across their bodies. If not for the similarities in cause of death, it’d be impossible to track these murders to the same person.

That difficulty lies in the fact that nobody has actually seen this villain. In official documents, he’s referred to as the “Red Ring Assassin," though Blonde Blazer has heard villains and bystanders alike naming him as “Shadow.” If not for the consistency in their descriptions of the guy, the concept of this being multiple people would still be on the table. Technically, that theory isn’t entirely able to be debunked; for all they know, it could be multiple people with similar figures wearing the same costume. But the heroes like to think the odds of it just being one guy outweigh the doubles idea. Whether that’s just wishful thinking or not, they’ll never know until they actually meet them.

Which is to come to the point of this discussion; the esteemed Red Ring Assassin has surrendered.

They’ve been tracking him down for weeks now, ever since they discovered the connection between those seemingly baseless murders. A dispatch call had come through from a remote location; the only thing discernible was the heavy breathing of someone unidentified. 

Chase had called Blonde Blazer to headset immediately, getting what he described as “foul vibes” from the call. As if the person knew, as soon as she got within listening distance, they spoke.

“Come get me.”

There was no threatening tone to their voice, no sign of this being a call to action or a means to spike anger; the person on the other end sounded almost… Resigned. Defeated. But it was too clouded to be a rescue call from a civilian, however. Too many emotions hid behind those three words to be as simple as someone who needed help.

Soon after those words were said, they hung up. Chase had turned to Blonde Blazer, an uneasy expression on his face.

“If that ain’t fuckin’ cryptic, I don’t know what is.” His eyes squinted as he looked back to the location of the call– an abandoned warehouse not too far away from their current location. “You think it’s something serious?”

Blonde Blazer rolled her bottom lip through her teeth, something deep in her bones telling her this call was something she couldn’t discredit. “Any call that reaches us should be taken as something serious, Chase.”

Chase scoffed. “No shit. I mean if you want to take this one.”

The hero in question would’ve raised her eyebrows if she didn’t feel that those words on that call were supposed to be said to her, not Chase. She gave a small laugh. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Blonde Blazer, I’ve known you for damn near a couple of years now. You don’t think I recognize your body language?” Chase rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. There never is. “If it’s calling to you, stay safe and go for it.”

The aforementioned woman stared at her companion for a moment more, knowing she hasn’t willingly offered herself for a dispatch in a long time. But this felt right. She was always supposed to go to this dispatch caller’s location.

“Thank you, Chase.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll call for backup if things get out of hand, I promise.”

And that leads her to now, staring at another exploded corpse and the sinking feeling that she’s being watched.

This one is more brutal than the ones she’s seen before; she can’t even begin to conceptualize who it might be, their corpse charred beyond any recognition. She doesn’t step forward, though. Not yet. 

It seems she doesn’t have to make the first move, however. Up above, she sees a flash of movement on an upper walkway; the metal clacking as footsteps walk across it. She feels herself go into a fighting stance, instinct taking over as she waits to realize if this is a civilian or a threat. 

Walking into the dim light of this shoddy warehouse, a figure slowly comes into view. A person dressed in black clothing, wearing a black mask to conceal their identity. Their clothing is loose fitting, and the mask seems to cover their entire head; whoever this is doesn’t want anyone to have hints to their identity. 

Blonde Blazer thinks back to descriptions she’s heard about the Red Ring Assassin, ones that were consistent across all accounts. All black, mysterious, large hood and baggy clothes…

“Is it really you?” Despite knowing her own strength, she can’t help herself in the chill that shoots up her spine. This guy– if it is who she’s thinking of– has taken out heroes even she admired. “Or are you some decoy?”

The figure jumps down from their spot on the walkway, landing square on their feet without a sign that the high drop affected them. Slowly, they raise their arms; a sign of surrender. Blonde Blazer only stiffens.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” There’s a low laugh that leaves her now, venomous and angry. “There’s no way a villain of your caliber would just surrender like this.”

With that same practiced slowness they used to raise them, their gloved hands reach up to tug at their hood, dragging it down. And without hesitation, those hands reach to the back of their neck, taking off their mask and dropping it to the floor with a pathetic flap of fabric.

Blonde Blazer feels herself unwind a bit– not in relief, no, but in confusion. The person under the mask is… A man. A young man with striking blue eyes. Eyes that’re weighed down by heavy eyebags, highlighting sunken cheeks and unruly facial and head hair. There’s a chip on his right ear. There are veins crawling up his neck.

“I’m not asking you to believe me.” His voice is raspy with signs of disuse, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if it isn’t used to the movement. “I’m asking you to arrest me.”

Blonde Blazer stares at him. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m serious.” He gestured a booted foot to the corpse between them, the only thing getting between a clear shot either of them have to each other. “That was my last kill. I’m done.”

Another laugh leaves Blonde Blazer– this time out of disbelief. “You quit? What could’ve ever made someone like you change their tune?”

It’s rude, and personal, and usually she wouldn’t let herself lose her composure like this but God forbid a woman act a bit strange because of the scenario she’s in. The man shows no signs of being affected.

“We really don’t have time. If he finds out I’m giving myself up, I won’t have a choice in what I do next.” He talks with a detached calm, but Blonde Blazer doesn’t miss the streak of fear behind those guarded eyes. “Take me in first, please. The rest can come after.”

“He?” She shouldn’t be entertaining him like this. He’s one of the most powerful villains, a part of the most powerful villain gang Red Ring– this should’ve ended before it even started. But something in his tone makes her want to believe him, to believe in him. Maybe it comes from working in the Phoenix Program.

Maybe it comes from recognizing signs of torture.

“Shroud. You know him.” He drops the name like it’s the most casual thing ever, like he’s talking about the weather, like he didn’t just give up crucial information about his leader. Well known information, but confidential all the same. “I don’t want to die.”

I don’t want to die. Blonde Blazer winces. “That’s a bit extreme. You’re not going to die here, I swear.”

Her fists clench all the same.

He takes a step forward, boot silently stepping onto the concrete ground. “So you’ll take me in?”

She feels her fighting stance relax a little in the almost childish hope in his voice. This man wants nothing more than to be locked away. Her eyes dart to the wall behind him, breaking crucial eye contact. “I’ll have to take you to a federal prison. You’ll be sentenced to life– that is, if you don’t get death.”

He nods, like this was expected. Like this was the ideal ending. “I know.”

Blonde Blazer is still tense, still expecting to jump over a rug getting pulled beneath her. The Red Ring would not be as cocky as they are if they didn’t have the intelligence to back it up. This could be a long game, this could be bait, this could be any number of things.

This looks like none of those things. This looks like silent defeat. But looks are made to be deceiving, and you get nowhere by judging a book by its cover.

“Throughout all your infamy, we’ve never got a name for you.” She tilts her head. “Mind giving me one?”

He seems almost taken aback by that, eyes widening being the most expression she’s seen out of him since he revealed himself. Slowly, he takes off the glove on his right hand, holding it out.

“My name is Robert.”

She stares at his hand. It’s covered in ridges and bumps, scars from who knows what overlapped by those same veins that trace his neck. The blue is the same muted, dulled blue his eyes are.

She takes it in her own, smiling. “Well, Robert. You’re under arrest.”

Chapter Text

Okay. Before this section starts, one thing must be clarified; Blonde Blazer is not a liar. 

When the Red Ring Assassin (Robert, his name is Robert) asked to be arrested, he never specified by what means. Of course, the conventional and common conclusion to draw is that he meant police arrest; prosecution under the eyes of the law, a trial and a sentence. However, Webster’s dictionary defines arrest as not just “to take and keep in custody by authority of law,” but also “to bring to a stop.” 

And that’s what she’s doing. Bringing Robert to a stop. Ergo: arresting.

“Do you have a place, Robert?” Blonde Blazer glances at him through the rearview mirror (“Can we go on wheels, actually?” He asked after she reached over to carry him, the first request he made that wasn’t “arrest me,” and he almost immediately took it back. Waving his hand and looking away. “Nevermind, sorry. Forget I said anything.”), staring at the man in the backseat as he stared out the window.

“I doubt it.” His free hand clutches his mask, the other latched onto a handcuff that fastens itself to Blonde Blazer’s hand (his insistence, and she feels comfortable driving one handed). “I only stayed with Shroud when I was his body guard.”

She can’t help but wince at his wording of the work he’d done for the Red Ring. “My bad, let me rephrase. Did you have a place, Robert? Any possessions?”

His brows furrow, but he doesn’t break his sightline on somewhere far off in the distance. “Yeah. No possessions, though.” Something glints in his eye as he says that, however. “Nothing I haven’t already given up.”

Blonde Blazer really should not be entertaining this. She knows very well what the Phoenix Program stands for, she knows, but all villains go through criminal screening beforehand. Trying to take in somebody like this– especially someone on the level of the Red Ring Assassin– without any consulting from outside forces is a bad idea. She’s putting her job in jeopardy just by having him in the car with her.

But not only is that feeling of something more here ringing like a siren in Blonde Blazer’s mind, a more distant, quiet bell chimes alone. The name Robert is familiar to her. A chip in his right ear, brown, scraggly hair. She’s heard someone with that description before, a long time ago.

(“Probably thought it was his destiny to die in that suit.”

It’s the first words out of Chase’s mouth since Blonde Blazer brought him a drink, though it's weighed down by the copious amounts of alcohol the man has chosen to drown himself in. She takes a sip of her own before turning her head to him. “Yeah?”

He stares at the rim of his bottle, eyes looking like they’re somewhere far away. It’d been a particularly hard night for him, this shift. One of the dispatch missions had jogged a bad memory. “Damn kid. I knew he would’ve tried to pull some shit with Shroud. Should’ve been with him longer, should’ve forced myself in…”

“I’m sure you did your best, Chase.” He won’t divulge in the depths of his relationship with the Mecha Man who died a few weeks ago, but Blonde Blazer can put together pieces. He saw that man like he was his own son. “There’s nothing anyone could’ve done to prevent his death.”

Chase finishes off his bottle, swallowing the liquid in one loud gulp. The glass shatters on a far off wall soon after. “Fuck you, Robert. Dying just like your father. Didn’t even say goodbye– fuck you.”

There’s tears in his eyes, now. He crumples soon after, head in his hands. Blonde Blazer rests her head on his back, and makes a silent vow to never speak of the sobs that wreck his body again.)

And she’s not willing to give this chance up. No matter how slim it is. She’ll deal with the consequences of being wrong after it’s been confirmed.

“Do you remember where that place is?” Blonde Blazer flips the turn signal as they wait at a red light, glancing back to the man in her backseat.

The question gets him to look away from the window, giving her a questioning glare. “Why do you want to know?”

“Legal stuff,” she says, waving her hand in a circle, “knowing your place of residence is important.”

It’s not technically a lie. The ask of housing locations comes up in her meetings with villains, along with other personal information important to file away. But Blonde Blazer isn’t necessarily asking for that same reason.

Robert’s shoulders almost instantly deflate, tension leaving his body quickly. “I don’t remember.” He breaks eye contact, opting to stare out the window again. “Not that it was anything huge, anyway. A shitty apartment with all the money I had left to use.”

Blonde Blazer stares at him a moment more, the way his eyebrows press together and how his lips flatten into a straight line. She only breaks her gaze when the light turns green, focusing her attention back onto the road.

There’s a lull in the conversation as Blonde Blazer continues to drive, the only sounds being the car's engine and the periodic rub of fabric as Robert fidgets with his mask.

She keeps running through her head the best way to approach this situation. “Hey, how do you feel about community service”? “I know you’re a mass murderer and international threat, but I still believe in you”? She definitely should’ve had a plan in mind before she committed to this idea, but to be fair, she also wasn’t expecting the Red Ring Assassin to turn himself in with his tail tucked between his legs. She’s kinda hoping a spur of inspiration will come as the topic is addressed.

“This isn’t the police station.”

Well. No better time than the present.

“No, it isn’t.” Blonde Blazer turns into the parking lot of the SDN– thankfully, her status as manager leaves her with a reserved parking spot. Lord knows the last time she actually used her car to get here. “Just trust me, okay?”

“We’re at SDN.” Robert turns to her as she stops the car, something almost panicked in his face. “Why did you take me to SDN?”

She looks away from his eye contact, sheepish. “You did contact our services, Robert.”

And there it is again– that flash of fear, a miniscule change in his stoic expression that is snuffed out as quickly as it arrived. Blonde Blazer can see it in real time; the way Robert takes a quick breath in and out, squaring his shoulders and leveling his face back to a practiced neutral. It looks robotic on him. Honestly, everything about the man in front of her is robotic.

“I turned myself in. I’m in no position to question your judgement.” He’s already crawling up to the front seats, getting himself ready to exist with Blonde Blazer. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, really. I understand your confusion.” She tries for a comforting smile. “I don’t mean to upset you, Robert, I just… Trust me, alright?”

He stares at her for a moment longer, eyes searching her face for something she couldn’t begin to conceptualize, before he nods his head. “Okay. Do you want to take the handcuff off your hand?”

Blonde Blazer glances back down to their hands– his right and her left– that’re connected by the cuffs. She glances back up to him. “Do you want me to take them off?”

Robert shrugs. “It’s your call.”

Blonde Blazer runs through the options in her head. If she were to handcuff him and remove their connection, it’d lead to less questions if anyone spotted them. But, if he really wanted to, he could hightail it back to the police station himself and get a police officer to formally arrest him instead of staying in her care. Instead of letting her say her peace.

“I don’t mind being cuffed together. It’d be more of a hassle to undo it at this point, anyway.” She smiles at him. “Shall we go?”

If he truly wants to be put in prison after this, she won’t stop him. But she’d live with the guilt and “what-ifs” for all her life if she gave him the ability to run away the second she introduces the Phoenix Program to him.

It’s fine. It’s fine, really, it’s fine. The time for feeling ashamed about misleading Robert is for after this whole ordeal is settled.

They get out of the car without too much fanfare, Robert moving with way too much grace and practice for a man with only one free hand. Blonde Blazer has to push down the instinct to interlink their cuffed hands as she makes her way towards the SDN’s front doors, pushing them open.

Robert’s call reached them late in the day, and Blonde Blazer had to run back to her apartment to grab her car (she can fly, sue her for getting to her job that way), so it’s no surprise that the lobby is empty. She feels a sigh of relief leave her regardless.

She notices Robert scanning the area, eyes lingering on each piece of furniture and object. “Something catch your eye?”

Robert shrugs. “It’s good to memorize the layout of a new place.”

Blonde Blazer stares at him quizzically. “You’ve memorized it already?”

Robert levels her with a look. And, in an extremely dry voice, he answers. “No.”

She walks the two of them over to the elevator, trying her best to casually gauge Robert for a reaction. Once he gives her a confused look, she calls the elevator down, allowing the two of them to ride up to the second floor.

“Why are we here?” Robert asks as the elevator doors open. He doesn’t sound hurt or confused, he just sounds– curious. Intrigued, almost. 

“Well, it was either here or guaranteeing you a spot on death row.” It’s meant to be a light hearted joke, but it falls flat on the basis of how severe his situation is. “I’m not going to send you to your death that easily.”

Robert stops in his tracks, just before the hall breaks off into the office space. “So you’re not arresting me?”

Blonde Blazer tries to hide her wince as she turns to properly face him. “Technically, this still counts. You’re just not going behind bars.”

Robert quickly takes that detached calm and flips it on his head as he speaks, tone low. “Why.”

“You called us instead of going straight to the police when you decided to quit the Red Ring. To me, that counts for something.” Blonde Blazer injects her tone with as much confidence and true honesty that she believes, hoping on every shooting star that this can get through to him. “And I think it counts for you, too.”

“The SDN is known for dealing with criminals efficiently and effectively. I’ve seen how you handled other Red Ring members.” Robert is practically glaring at her now, hand connected to hers curling up into a fist. “I thought that me, of all people, wouldn’t receive special treatment.”

“Those Red Ring members were actively threatening violence and harming civilian life, Robert.” She can feel her own defense weakening, but her passion shines through, her belief in Robert ever strong. Why does she feel like this? “You surrendered the second I was on the premises. Frankly, that’s a pretty stark difference.”

“I killed a man mere minutes before you got there.” Robert isn’t raising his voice, but with how much venom is present in each syllable, screaming would have the same effect. “That isn’t “threatening violence and harming civilian life” to you?”

“I saw something in you the second you took that mask off, Robert!” And Blonde Blazer tried, really, she did, to keep herself from getting worked up. But she can’t help it. No matter how much she wishes she could. “When you shook my hand and gave me your name. I saw the face of a man who wanted a second chance.”

“Tough shit.” Robert leans forward as he talks, height difference not minimizing his intimidation factor. “‘Cause I just so happen to be that man, and I’m telling you right now the only thing I want is to be prosecuted under the eyes of the law.”

Blonde Blazer feels herself panting, another retort on her tongue, but as soon as she opens her mouth to speak–

“ARF!”

–the sound of a dog cuts her off. Soon after, Beef is running towards Robert, jumping up and down around him and scratching at his legs.

Blonde Blazer feels a bit of tension release at the sight of the animal. “Beef, oh my god. Read the room.”

Her tone is playful as she watches Beef run and bark and howl with energy she’s never seen out of him, and she can’t help but chuckle at his antics. He even pees a little out of excitement. For what? She can’t be sure.

But then she looks up. And Robert is stiff as a board and pale as a sheet.

Her brows crease in concern. “Robert?”

“I really can’t be here.” His tone is soft and whispered, peaking at parts with pure panic and fear. “Please lock me up.”

His fingers are twitching and his knees are locked, his eyes staring at an indistinguishable point on the ground. She leans down to meet his eyesight. “Are you okay, Robert?”

His pupils shake with a variety of emotions, and it looks like he’s seeing through her, not at her. His voice is weak and pitiful as he speaks again. “Please.”

“Is it Beef? Do you not like dogs?” Blonde Blazer glances back to the blur of fluff at Robert’s legs, feeling her stomach drop. “I can get him away from you–”

“Who’s tall, dark and mysterious over here?”

Blonde Blazer is cut off by a new voice, and a glance over Robert’s shoulder reveals Chase, looking at her with an unamused expression. “Oh, hey! Didn’t, uh, wasn’t expecting you to still be here.”

Chase raises an eyebrow. “You thought I would’ve just gone home without checking up on you? What kinda dickhead do you think I am?”

She laughs a bit at that, though she’s still high strung with emotions. “That’s fair. I’m alright, though.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Chase eyes Robert up and down, scrutinizing him from what he can see with the man’s back turned. “This that cryptic ass motherfucker on the call?”

Blonde Blazer can’t hide the way she winces. “Yeah. It is.”

Chase tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “And you’re handcuffed to ‘em?”

Blonde Blazer sighs. “His insistence, really.”

“So this guy must be tough shit, huh?” He walks forward, and Beef finally takes his attention away from Robert to bark at him, head gesturing furiously between the two men. “Who even is he, anyway?”

Blonde Blazer glances back to Robert. He looks even paler than he had before. 

“Gotta be a real piece of work for you to go through all this trouble.” Chase comes to a stop a few feet before the two of them, right in between Beef’s frantic running slash jumping off the walls territory. “Hey, hoodie asshole! How’s about you turn around so I can get a good look at ‘cha, huh?”

“He’s the Red Ring Assassin,” Blonde Blazer elaborates, still not looking away from the horrified expression on Robert’s face, “he turned himself in.”

Chase whistles. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Robert’s heart is pumping so fast Blonde Blazer can feel it in her cuffed hand. “Honestly? Me neither.”

There’s a beat of silence (well, as silent as it can be with Beef still going crazy) before Chase sighs. “Is he gonna turn around, or…?”

Blonde Blazer looks away from Robert for a second to glance at Chase. “I–”

Though it seems like he’s already made up his mind about the situation, because suddenly he’s strolling up to Robert, hand reaching for his uncuffed arm.

“Listen here, I don’t know where you get off thinking you can just stroll in here–”

But as Chase finally turns him around, Blonde Blazer watches as the words visibly die in his throat. His jaw hangs slack, eyes wide, and Beef barks in almost triumph as the two stare at each other.

“Holy fucking shit.” Chase’s voice is quiet in a way Blonde Blazer has never heard it. “Robert?”

She hears the man in question swallow audibly. 

“Hi, Chase.”

Chapter Text

Nobody prepares you for how hard it is to lose someone.

Of course, Chase has lost people before. Family members, childhood pets, friends. Grief isn’t a foreign concept to him by any means. He’s gone through the rounds, been at the funerals, mourned and moved on as best as he can.

They didn’t even have a body.

“Presumed dead” is what’s listed on his case file, having gone cold after not even a few weeks. Word spread fast, and especially with a hero as well renowned as the Mecha Man, it didn’t take long for public opinion to accept that he was dead. The Astral Pulse went, and Robert went with it.

He hadn’t even seen him in over a decade. Fifteen fucking years, and the only thing that comes out of it is a death at the hands of that suit.

(At the hands of Shroud, a deeper part of him whispers, one he tries to ignore in booze, another Mecha Man you couldn’t save.)

They held some memorial services for him. A big television broadcast, dramatized versions of his death, the whole shebang. Another inspiring story about a hero who died in the fit of battle. They do this every time a Mecha Man dies. It gets old pretty fast.

Blazer had asked him if he wanted to attend one, after he’d become so drunk he spilled his guts to her. Say some kind words (“Or just curse your feelings out,” she added, a smile on her face that said she was risking making the joke) about the man he knew, about the boy who died like his father.

But Chase couldn’t. Not under good conscience. What kind of person would that make him, mourning a Mecha Man he never even got to meet?

She tries, Blazer does. To help him when she can, aid him in this struggle he’s dealing with. And Chase appreciates her, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t. But she doesn’t get it. She’ll never get it, and he doubts few people in the world will.

If his rapidly decaying body doesn’t kill him young, he’s sure the all-consuming guilt will get to him first.

It's the month anniversary of the day Robert Robertson the third was officially proclaimed dead that Chase comes home to a small dog on his doorstep, looking equally spooked as he is.

“What the fuck?” It’d been a late shift, one of those nights where he feels like working himself to the bone, so it’s not entirely out of the picture that he’s just hallucinating this dog.

It’s a tiny, skinny thing; not so much to classify as malnutrition, but if the loose-hanging collar is anything to go off of, the animal used to be bigger than it is now. It doesn’t growl as he approaches, more so hangs it head low, whimpering softly.

“Hey, little buddy,” It’s instinct that leads Chase to try and pacify the dog, holding his hands out and speaking calmly, “what’re you going way out here, huh?”

The dog doesn’t respond besides curling in on itself further. However, it does let him get close enough to read its collar.

“BEEF.” With a little heart under the name.

“Are you serious? Beef?” His hand finds its way to the dog's head as he examines the tag, which thankfully it seems to fully lean into. “What kinda person names their dog Beef?”

He turns the dog tag around.

“IF LOST, RETURN TO ROBERT ROBERTSON. (XXX) XXX-XXXX”

It feels like a punch to the gut.

He stares at it for a long, long moment. 

“He would be that motherfucker, huh?” Something dry finds its way into his throat, weighs down his tongue as he talks.

Chase stares at the dog– at Beef– and watches how it practically melts into his hand. How it’s the only thing he has left of Robert.

He picks the dog up. It huffs, licking his nose and barking.

“Seems I’m not the only one going through a hard time.” Chase scratches Beef’s stomach, watching as it lolls its tongue out of its mouth. “You miss him too, huh?”

Beef barks again.

Chase opens the door to his home with Beef curled up in his arms, watching as it scrambles out and immediately runs to curl up on his couch.

Watching the dog spin itself around before flopping down with a sigh, Chase realizes he’s been smiling. 

“Fuck. I need to buy dog food.” 

Blonde Blazer watches the silent staring contest between Chase and Robert with baited breath and something akin to hope. 

First of all, she feels vindicated. She hadn’t been wrong to assume this Robert and the man of the same name Chase would mention were the same. If the situation wasn’t tense, she’d heave a sigh of relief. But she can’t. Not yet.

Because now that the curtain has lifted, she has no idea how Chase is going to react.

“It’s really you?” His facial expression still hasn’t changed, eyes wide and posture tense. “This isn’t some fucked-up power where you can shapeshift or whatever the fuck?”

“It’s not.” Every word Robert says is choked, like he has to fight with his own throat and tongue to pronounce the consonants and vowels. “It’s me.”

He still refuses to look at other man. His body is ridged, his head tilted to the side, like he’s preparing for a hit. But his expression is resigned. Like the only outcome from this reunion could be unforgiving rejection.

Chase’s shoulders slump the tiniest bit. “You sick motherfucker.”

Suddenly, he lets go of Robert’s sleeve, wrapping him in the tightest hug Blonde Blazer’s ever seen. 

It visibly knocks the wind out of Robert’s lungs, as he relaxes and tenses back up while Chase holds him tight, hands hovering behind his back as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

“Chase?” His eyes are wide and his lips are parted, a mirror image of the expression Chase had worn when he first saw him. His voice sounds more human than it had at any point he’d talked to Blonde Blazer. “What are you…?”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Chase chokes out, and oh, he’s crying, “leaving your dog at my doorstep and letting everyone parade around like you were dead. Do you know how long I mourned you, you dipshit?”

Robert’s eyes soften, just a bit. “I’m… sorry.”

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it. Not for what you did.” Contrary to his words, Chase’s hands only tighten on Robert’s back. “You’ll have to spend your entire life paying me back, asshole. Couldn’t even tell me you were alive, huh? Too much hassle?”

Robert flinches. It’s a minuscule movement, but Blonde Blazer catches it. “I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t want you–”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about risk. Do you know how fucking terrible it is to find out the man you’ve been no contact with for fifteen years just kneeled over and died one day?” Chase breaks away from the hug, not caring to wipe the tear tracks from his cheeks. His hands grip Robert’s shoulders as though he’s afraid of him disappearing into thin air. “I thought I failed you too.”

“I’m sorry.” Robert’s face is pinched with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“And I thought I told you not to say bullshit apologizes. I don't give a damn about how sorry you are.” The words are harsh, but they’re softened by the silent way Chase is still crying. “You can start showing how bad you feel by telling me why you’re dicking around with Shroud.”

Robert tenses, free fingers digging into his palm. “I–”

“Matter of fact, why’re you even here?” Chase tilts his head to make eye contact with Blonde Blazer, who’s still standing behind Robert on account of his handcuff. His eyes are scrutinizing. “‘Cause it seemed like neither of you were expecting me to show up.”

“Actually, I can answer that question.” Blonde Blazer steps in front of where she’d been behind Robert, trying to look as confident as she wants to feel. “I brought Robert in to try and pitch an opportunity.” 

Robert tenses again, though this time the reasoning behind it is extremely different. He turns his head to narrow his eyes at Blonde Blazer while Chase just furrows his brows. “You want the Red Ring Assassin in the Phoenix program?”

Blonde Blazer feels herself grimace. “When you say it out loud, it sounds silly.”

“Because it is silly.” Reunion forgotten, Robert is back to that stubborn anger that comes with Blonde Blazer not turning him to the police, shoulders hiked up to his neck. A scowl rests on his face. “If you put me out in that field, the only thing that’ll come from it is people dying. It’s not a good idea.”

Chase’s hands came off Robert’s shoulders when he turned, and now they find purchase on his hips. “You sound pretty confident.”

Robert's expression becomes almost guarded as he turns to Chase. “You both called me the Red Ring Assassin. I’m amazed you expect anything else from me.”

“Is it so wrong to think you can change?” And here’s what it all boils down to, in Blonde Blazer’s mind. This innate concept that anyone willing to try can turn their life around. It’s what she built the Phoenix Program on, and it’s what she believes Robert can do. She just needs to get him to believe in himself, too. “People who truly want to keep killing don’t admit that they’ve quit their job.”

“It’s not the same thing.” Robert’s teeth are clenched together, brows furrowed in a painful grimace. “I’m a public danger. You can’t bring me out there. I’ll turn myself in before you can come close to that.”

As if knowing the words he’s speaking, Beef whines at Robert, stopping his frantic movement to stare up at him. He glances down at the dog before forcing his eyes shut.

“You know why he’s so skinny?” Chase picks up the dog in his arms, holding him close to his chest. “He refused to eat anything for the first few weeks I had him. Still ain’t eating a healthy amount. You got any idea why that is, Robert?”

The aforementioned man opens his eyes to wince. “I couldn’t keep him with me, who knows what Shroud would’ve done–”

“If you walk outta here after showing this dog you’re alive, I think he’ll either tear through hell to chase after you or starve himself to death.” Chase holds Beef closer to his face, and the dog’s tongue lolls out of his mouth as he stares at Robert. “You really want to do this again?”

“It’s the only thing left for me to do!” It’s the closest Robert has come to screaming since Blonde Blazer met him, though the increase in his volume is pillowed by how heartbroken his tone is. “The things I did for the Red Ring should get me a death sentence. I’m willing to pay that price.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think you deserve, Robert.” Chase repositions Beef in order to point a finger at Robert’s chest, leaning in to make direct eye contact. “I just got your stupid ass back after thinking you’d fucked off and died. If you think I’m letting you out yourself in a prison cell to rot for the rest of your life, you’ve got no fucking clue who you’re talking to.”

Robert glances down at Chase’s hand, then back up at him, before finding a point on the wall to stare at. “What you guys do here isn’t going to work for me. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“How about dispatching?” It’s a spur of the moment thing and definitely not what Blonde Blazer wanted to put Robert into, but after she says it something clicks into place. As if this was always the correct choice; she just had to realize it.

Robert turns to her with such confusion and shock it’s almost laughable. “What?”

“Dispatching! Sending out some of the Phoenix program’s heroes to go fight the crime for you.” Blonde Blazer can feel herself slipping into corporate mode fast, so she takes herself out of it with a squeeze on Robert’s shoulder. “You’d still get to stay with us, out of Shroud’s sight, and we’d have quite the amount of other employees to watch out for you.”

“We just had somebody quit, too.” Chase hums, idly scratching Beef’s belly as he considers. “You could work right next to me.”

Robert’s eyes glance between the two people, a disbelieving laugh leaving him. “There’s no way you’re considering this.”

“I don’t think it’s a far-fetched idea.” Blonde Blazer steps forward the slightest bit, removing her hand from Robert’s shoulder and giving him a smile she hopes feels less boss-like and more friendly. “I believe you’ve got what it takes. And you won’t have to leave your chair, so no worries about killing anyone, right?”

“You’ve definitely got the chops for it, kid.” Chase tilts his head at Robert, raising his eyebrows. “The work you did as Mecha Man was no joke. You’d do well.”

The name Mecha Man makes Robert go all ridged, something darkening his eyes and setting his face firm. “I’m not Mecha Man, and I can’t be him again,” he states, not even looking at Blonde Blazer or Chase anymore, “so if you’re expecting that kind of skill from me, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Chase and Blonde Blazer both share a look before she leans down a tad, staring directly into Robert’s eyes. “Well, what do you think? Disregarding Mecha Man and the Red Ring Assassin.” She tilts her head forwards towards his. “Does Robert think he can dispatch a team of heroes?”

The aforementioned man blinks, darting his eyes away from Blonde Blazer’s face until they return back to hers with a sigh. “I haven’t been Robert for a long time. I don’t know what he thinks.”

“He can start thinking now!” Blonde Blazer leans away from the closeness she and Robert shared, putting her hands on her hips. “This can be a way to turn your life around, Robert. Not thinking about what you’ve done before. A fresh, blank slate with people who don’t know you.”

“It’d be good for ya. Really.” Chase drops Beef back to the floor, where he rubs up against Robert’s leg with a bark. “You should get used to talking to people who aren’t some of Shroud’s brain dead lackeys.”

Something in Chase’s words makes Robert tense, but Blonde Blazer can see him contemplating in the way his brows furrow. “Who would I even be dispatching?”

Now it’s Blonde Blazer’s turn to wince. “Based on the position you’d be filling, it’d be some of our more… difficult heroes.”

“A sorry bunch of motherfuckers.” Chase agrees with a nod of his head. “They need someone out there keepin’ them in line.”

Robert frowns. “And you think I’d be a good fit?”

“Would it help if you met them first? Got to know them a little?” Blonde Blazer claps her hands together (well, as much as she can with one still handcuffed to Robert) and squeezes them, grinning. “I know this is a lot to take in, especially in such a short amount of time, so we can take it slow. Give you a moment.”

“I don’t need a moment. I need to be in jail.” But even as he says it, Blonde Blazer can see some of Robert’s resolve crumbling.

“Well that ain’t happening, so this is the best thing you’ve got.” Chase claps Robert on the back. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me that easily, asshole.”

“We’ll both be here for you. I promise.” Blonde Blazer feels her shoulders relax. “And, whenever you’re ready to talk about your time with the Red Ring, we’ll be here too.”

Robert’s eyes widen. “When I’m ready?”

“It very clearly affected you a lot more than just a physical level, and we’d get nowhere if we tried to force you to tell us what happened to you.” Blonde Blazer softens her expression, smiling gently at Robert. “You don’t have to tell us everything right away. Take your own time to process.”

Robert blinks at her for a moment, glancing back to Chase. “I’m not going to jail, am I?”

Both Blonde Blazer and Chase shake their heads. 

“Nope.”

“Not in a million fucking years, kid.”

Robert looks back and forth between the two of them, posture tense and face guarded. Until eventually something gives. 

He sighs, lowering his shoulders. “Okay. What do I have to do?”