Work Text:
So lock me up, I cannot take it
Lock me up, I've already lost
Lock me up, I've gone and jinxed it
Hold my cocktail Molotov
Torrance City Bank.
Two levels of private offices and a backroom full of cash—a circular entrance of pillars and windows on every side. Black out glass windows and palm trees that lined the front of the building. The bank was meant to be closed for a federal holiday tomorrow, All of it burning a bright orange.
So much for going to the bank after work.
“That’s everybody, all clear.” The suit’s face turned around. Blue and red lights were reflecting on the back entrance of the suit. And there was a super inside of the bank—a villain who had already burnt the money to a crisp. The amount of money that the city will have to give the bank back might close it altogether. Legs thudded against the concrete parking lot. It was worth it.
“Damage is done,” he called out from the suit. There was fire burning everywhere he looked, concrete pillars barely held together and trees that fell through the cracked glass. The suit was fireproof, luckily, but only to a certain extent. “All I want is a conversation.”
A fireball flew past him.
Whether that was a person or just a burning ball of concrete wasn’t important. What was important was that whoever he was fighting had access to flaming projectiles. The sensors on the suit couldn’t sense very much whenever they shut down from excessive heat. “No need to be any more–”
Clank.
This wasn’t going to be a good fight.
A fist made its way up to block the incoming flame. It was a person, then. Robert always hated fighting against supers, they always had a higher tolerance for pain and things hitting their heads. Or bodies in general. It was annoying and inconvenient—he’d already hit him about five times before the super had fallen back, and he’d gotten back up almost right after that to attack the front panel. Very annoying.
He'd crashed the back of the mech from a pillar and the front through the first floor. His body was probably going to be sore later from the impact. But that wasn’t something that he could focus on.
The parking lot that they were in now was almost completely ablaze. Cars that had exploded a bit farther away from where they were, and wasn’t that a lot of insurance claims to be filed soon? The mech had a couple scratches on the front panel and on the legs, dirt was caked deep in between the joints. That was going to need a powerwash when he got home. But the internal resources were fine. Cameras were still up. Emergency exit and emergency power backup were still intact.
He could tell that, whoever the villain was, was trying rather hard to get a hit in. Rapid movements back and forth that were easy to get out of the way from. The mech was making its way around easily, sure, but the heat would get to it sooner or later. Which meant that their playdate would have to end soon.
The next hit sent the flaming fireball hit him through one of the walls.
At least he wasn’t on fire anymore. Maybe there was a limit to how much he could fully burn.
“Come on, you out of gas?” Robert asked him. “Dissapointing.”
The man only smirked before burning bright again.
Shields and roped nets could only do so much in the face of a fire like the one being aimed at him—the mech was measuring it at around 2,000 Fahrenheit, just from his hands alone. Robert had to admit, he had rather great control over the temperature and the aim. For an element that was as temperamental as fire, he could aim it at both the boosters and the nets surprisingly well.
We’re doing this the hard way then.
Robert backed himself to the wall as he ran the numbers. The physical shield was still up with the expandable metal backing readied for when it burnt away, Robert set the mech to run on autopilot while he got out. Emergency coolant water was set to spray in case any permanent damage happened to it. And the emergency backing was still intact to crawl out of.
Robert got to work.
He got out and he rolled as fast as he could. A side attack would probably be easier to manage with the villain’s eyes focused solely on the mech alone—and the front wouldn’t be safe to exit anyway. Even if the super’s eyes weren’t as sensitive to light from all the fire that he saw up close there still had to be a way to blind him. Two flashbangs were in his hands when he saw the man’s eyes drift.
“What the fuck–”
Robert chuckled before slamming his body against the villain's. Hot was the first thought that registered to his fingers and his body. He probably didn’t need his fingerprints very much, but it was nice to still try and preserve them whenever he could. He gloved himself as fast as he could before throwing in the first punch.
“You need to calm the fuck down.” he said. Robert’s voice could barely make it over the fire. “The entire building is burnt, all of the money is gone. It’s hard to get an insurance claim in jail, you know.”
“Oh fuck off!” the villain spat.
A punch to Robert’s chest and kicks to the villain’s stomach. Glass shards from an exploded car retracted at least some of the fire that he pushed out, but he seemed rather immune to the heat for the most part. Robert had managed to stay on top and throw the punches for the most part until he’d jumped off to try and make the heat more manageable. His throat was burning from the lack of oxygen by then, and his neck was literally burning from the hand around it.
“Calm down on this, bitch!” he yelled out.
Robert was wincing and choking by then—the carbon around him, the one hand burning his skin and the other hand about to burn his face were not helping his decision making skills in that moment. There wasn’t much that he could do to prevent his face from being blown off his skull.
So he grabbed the man’s hand and he bit.
“Bae, why the fuck are you hiding your hands?” Prism asked.
Robert wasn’t sure exactly what was going on at that moment. His vision was still rather blurred from whatever impact that his head had taken in the fight, and his back was absolutely killing him from the times he’d been thrown against the wall. The most he could really make out was that Flambae was trying his best to wrap his fingers away from Robert’s eyes.
“Because he– you–”
“Lad, he hasn’t even said who he is.” Punch-Up said, wiping his hands of blood. “Who are ya? Really.”
Bruno hummed out as he ate another pack of fries and a leftover soda drink. “Do we need Robert to say it if Flambae knows already?”
Robert blinked confusedly. “What are we talking about again?”
“We’re talking about which superhero you are, duh.” Prism said back, not looking up from her phone. Most of the other members were silent while they waited for the answer, either eating tacos or just staring.
Intensely.
Sonar’s hands were already on his and Mal’s wallets. Coupé was staring at him with rather rapt attention throughout the entire conversation. “Are you sure you’re not concussed, Robert?”
Robert sighed. “You guys bet on this, didn’t you?”
“Dude, how the fuck do you not know?” Flambae asked them, pointing at Robert again before sitting back down. If Robert didn’t know what the man was already thinking, he would say that the man looked rather crazy. Like someone trying to rile up some sort of conspiracy theory that made no sense.
“I haven’t fought anyone else here, that’s how.” Robert said, biting down on another taco. Very good taco.
Malevola blinked. “You fought Flambae as a hero?”
“I would like to say that I apologize about the fingers, and state that I am both rather surprised and impressed that you haven’t tried to burn me to death yet–”
Flambae hid his hands behind his back. “Motherfucker, the last time that I tried that you bit off two of my fingers! I am never letting you near my hands again.”
The crowd went rather silent after that.
“You did what now?” Invisigal said.
“Which famous superhero we know is a fucking cannibal?” Prism asked Malevola, which resulted in a shrug from at least three different people.
Robert sighed. God, his head was pounding. “I am not a fucking cannibal, my face was about to get burnt off.” he tossed his final wrapper to the trash. “I was out of the mech, we were fist fighting–”
“You– you’re Mecha Man!” Waterboy said, though he was wincing at the volume of his voice.
“No fucking way,” Punch-Up stood up from his seat. “Can’t be.”
“Can we maybe not shout that out loud?” Robert asked him with his drink to his head. “In public? I’m trying to keep it, you know, on the down low for right now.”
Malevola shrugged. “Could be?”
“But that’s like– a real superhero.” Prism said.
“Are we just going to ignore the fact that he admitted to biting Flambae’s fingers off?” Sonar asked them.
Robert nodded. “Preferably, yes.”
“Bitch, you scared the shit out of me! The doctors tried to diagnose me with some scaredy-cat bullshit,” Flambae said to him. “And you gave me a fucking sleep paralysis demon.”
“I would say the same about my burnt neck and the people I had to evacuate.” Robert deadpanned.
Flambae scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. His mouth had just a bit of sauce on the right corner that he licked off before talking again. “Just get me dinner or some shit, then I’ll think of calling it even.”
“What a classic transition of conversation.” Robert said. “I thought I wasn’t your type?”
“I thought you were smart.” Flambae snarked.
Coupé was staring at the both of them before the team. “Are we meant to be ignoring the fact that he’s Mecha Man in this conversation?”
“If these two dumbasses keep fighting, sure.” Prism said before turning to Robert. “And you better find out how to prove it, white boy! These bitches all owe me 936 bucks.”
“Weren’t you shocked about this too?” he asked. “How the fuck did you bet that and still get shocked?”
Prism shrugged. “Random guess.”
“I still want fucking dinner.” Flambae called out, tossing his burrito wrapping at Robert. “Bitch.”