Chapter Text
Robert wanted to understand.
He’d spent a good part of his life fighting villains. He’d had a whole thought process for them, and he’d thought it was the correct one all this time. But now that he was leading a group of former villains, he realized that maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe villains and heroes weren’t as black and white as he’d thought.
He remembered Invisgal’s words. He’d said that villains fucked up their own lives, and she’d had a few things to say about that. He’d never really considered what drove someone to become a villain, and he figured if he could get another perspective, maybe he’d understand his team more.
But he couldn’t talk to them. They were defensive about such things. So that left only one person he felt he could talk to.
Robert nodded to the new bouncer of the Sardine. This man was big and muscled and looked like he could snap Robert in half like a twig. But he also didn’t seem to mind Robert’s lack of villainy.
“Don’t be starting shit,” he said in a deep voice as he nodded back at Robert.
The inside of the Sardine looked different. It was cleaner and newer, like someone had finally given it the repairs and renovations it had sorely needed. There was also a distinct lack of glowing red, which made Robert feel a bit better.
Behind the bar was the woman his team had told him about. The bartender who had given Beef back to them as well as the asshole who had taken him. The woman whose brown hair was streaked with grey, who stood with a sense of power, whose left eye was solid white and blind. She seemed like a reasonable woman to Robert. At least more reasonable than the last guy who had bartended.
Robert sat at the bar, which was mostly empty. Looked like a slow night, or maybe it seemed empty due to the lack of Red Ring goons. She approached him, taking a drag from her cigarette, but it fell from her mouth as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.
“Shit,” she said. “Did it happen again?” She began to look around as if expecting to see something. “Which asshole brought that pup back-”
“No, he’s fine,” Robert explained. “No one kidnapped him again.”
The bartender sighed in relief and picked up her now ruined cigarette.
“Good,” She said, crushing it into a nearby ashtray. “Thought I was gonna have to kick someone’s ass again. But now I’m wondering why you’re here. Last I heard, you’re a dispatcher, not a villain. Unless you decided to turn to a life of crime...”
“That’s still a backup plan,” Robert said. “My name’s Robert, and I just came here for a drink... and maybe some information. Can I get a whiskey, please?”
“Robert...” the bartender repeated. “I’m Lorelei.”
She got to making Robert’s drink, using a glass that was way cleaner than the ones Robert drank from last time. The whiskey wasn’t top shelf, but it wasn’t shitty either. Lorelei put the finished drink on the bar and slid over a laminated menu.
“You want some food too?” She asked. “Florida Boy’s a good cook. Makes some damn good wings.”
“No shit?” Robert looked at the menu. “Sure, let me get some of them.”
Lorelei wrote the order down and walked it to the kitchen hidden behind the bar. When she came back, she was lighting a new cigarette.
“So...” she blew out a plume of smoke, “what information were you looking for?”
Robert took a sip of his drink and sighed.
“Tell me what it was like when you were a supervillain.”