Chapter Text
Robert wakes up the way that he usually does. With dog claws pawing at the fabric of his pants leg. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes from where he’s sprawled out in a thin blue padded chair. Luxurious.
There’s a lot of sound pouring in from the hallway. Muffled only by the door separating himself and Courtney from a bustling hospital workday. Phones are ringing off the hook, focused conversations are being had with purpose. There’s a whole lot of running back and forth. It makes sense given the events of yesterday. How Robert managed to sleep through it is a testament to his aching exhaustion.
He bends down to pick Beef up and pet him, and the plump chihuahua rewards him by putting the full force of his weight directly into the gnarly impact bruise from the bullet Visi tanked to lick his face. “Hey, morning to you too. Need to go outside?”
“Yeah, I do. Hospitals suck. They kept me overnight ‘cuz I ditched the ambulance. Not like I can go anywhere, though, I’ve got this stupid fucking sling on.” Courtney speaks up from where she’s been laying bored out of her mind in the hospital bed.
“I know, it was pretty reckless.” Robert replies while yawning, trying to keep Beef’s tongue out of his mouth while he does because he knows where that’s been. He sets him down on the floor and stands up, groaning from the ache of his large collection of contusions.
“Did you stay here all night?” She asks. There’s an inflection in that question, like she can’t quite believe that Robert would do that. Her eyes betray that she is very appreciative, despite questioning it.
“Yeah, it’s like a hotel. Definitely not the worst thing I’ve slept on. Thanks for booking the room.” He lifts his arms up with a huge stretch, trying to work out everything stiff in his body. His left hand is tingling from the blood rapidly rushing back into it, so he gives it a rub and shake as the feeling pours back in.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Courtney says, trailing off.
“I wanted to,” He says with a painful but cathartic roll of his shoulders. “But I’ll go if I’m not welcome.”
“…No, I think you can stay. But on one condition.” She’s toying with the thin hospital blanket with her freed hand, unable to keep still and getting more restless from being chained up with wires and needles to the various medical monitors.
He raises an eyebrow at her, intrigued.
“Drive me home. I’d rather be in my bed.” She’s staring at him, but is quick to add on. “Relax, I’m not going to fuck your brains out,” she says, a smug grin splitting across her face from ear to ear. “Not yet.”
“I wasn’t thinking that you were going to.” Which is partially a lie because the thought did cross his mind, albeit briefly before his reasonable side kicks in to squash the thought.
It’s only because he knows her well despite the brevity of the time they’ve spent together. Robert isn’t sure how it happened or where it started, but he had fallen hard and fast. Chase calling him out after the explosion during the final proto-pulse test is the first time it was truly on his radar. It wasn’t love at first sight, at least not for him.
Or maybe that’s exactly what it was, that peek behind the curtain of her true self had him wanting to tear down the rack to expose the softest part of her soul. It was the shitty jokes that bordered on irritating and the ease of their banter. The shine in her golden brown eyes when delivering said shitty jokes.
She was bold enough to share that she had an intense dream involving him. Like she was staking some kind of declaration of war on his heart. She was very eager to share, challenging him to this strange game of banter chicken that became a staple in their conversations.
“Really? Cuz I would have,” Courtney admits, which pulls him from his thoughts and he can tell she’s joking. At least he thinks she is. “I don’t think I need both of my shoulders to fuck.”
“Well, I do. And I’m beat to fucking shit.” Robert lets that statement linger for only a moment. “I’ll go pick up your meds and we can get you checked out.” He stands, pauses, and then approaches her to lean down. With two fingers he tilts her chin up, staring into her wide eyes he can see a faint reflection of his own wrecked self. She’s staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights, and he knows at that moment that the feeling between them is mutual. He leans in and plants a soft kiss to her lips, not hungry or needy, but gentle and innocent. He’s parting too soon and she’s chasing behind him, not wanting to leave the moment chaste.
His thumb brushes her lower lip, a barrier to her impatience, a demand for her to wait. Then he is leaving the room and stealing one last glance at her from the corner of his eye. She’s staring right back at him, watching his every move. So red in the face that Robert wonders if she’s about to blow up. Completely bewildered.
“We need to have a chat later, it doesn't have to be now but it needs to be soon. You have a lot to explain.” The message was delivered with his sweetest smile, the one where the corners of his mouth creased.
She looks down at her hands, rare silence gripping her.
It’s not long before she’s getting into the passenger seat of Robert’s car, Beef sitting in her lap with his tongue lolling from his mouth. It’s not a terrible car. It’s an older gray Dodge Dart. Nearly a decade at this point in its age and it was a replacement for the previous car he had that he had driven into the ground.
“Here, put in your address.” Robert passes her his phone with a casual domesticity that makes Courtney put her guard up. Beef crawls over the center console and hops happily into the back row to lay in the indented seat behind them. It unsurprisingly smells like a dog in the car, despite the cheap air freshener hanging from the stem of the rearview mirror.
“Trying to keep that saved so you can swing around whenever you like? I have a roommate, you know.” She doesn’t put her seatbelt on and the notification of that keeps beeping relentlessly. She tosses his phone back to him and he puts it in the phone holder suction cupped to the dash since his old ass car doesn’t have GPS integrated from this decade in it.
“I’m not the one randomly showing up at your doorstep. Actually, at the doorstep is misleading. You had Malevola open a portal into my apartment without knocking. Put on your seatbelt,” He retorts back at her. “How did you even get my address anyway?”
It’s a good question. One that’s been lingering on Robert’s mind for a while, since Malevola and Visi appeared without any sort of warning. He certainly was not interested in broadcasting the details of his sad, ‘serial killer’ apartment.
She rolls her eyes and reluctantly clicks her seatbelt into place. “I convinced Blazer to leak it for the party.”
“Of course you did.” He shifts from park to drive and follows the direction the maps take him toward. “And of course she caved for your reasoning. You’re trouble. You know I was thinking that maybe you followed me home after that one shift.”
“Which one? I followed you home for a few of them,” she banters back.
That gets a genuine laugh out of him. “The one after the movies. You told me you had a dream of us fucking.”
“Yeah, that dream was great,” Courtney says, sighing and throwing her head back against the headrest of the passenger seat. She bites her lower lip, a reminiscent gleam flashing in her brown eyes. An image of her doing just that in her dream jumps into his mind before he can stop it. She’s messing with him intentionally and he’s better at this game than she is.
It’s automatic of him to internally wonder about what she dreamt. It’s been eating at him since she mentioned it but there had never been a good opportunity to approach the subject again, if there ever would be. Since it’s a clear and dark red HR Violation. But Robert thinks they’re past that now with the fact that his tongue has been in her mouth.
“I didn’t even get to finish,” she yanks him out of his thoughts with some very unhelpful information to share considering he’s doing his best to keep as much blood and pain as he can out of this thing between them. She’s not making it easy. With their current injuries it is a very real and present possibility.
“Courtney,” he chides, voice low and drawn out. It’s a warning.
“Robert,” she replies, giddy as she witnesses the torment she’s inflicting on him.
His grip on the steering wheel grows white knuckled as he takes a sharp left turn before hitting a red light just before the turn onto her street. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Almost there,” He mutters under his breath, clearly not intended for anyone but himself. But nonetheless she hears him and she pounces like Beef when scraps hit the floor.
“Yeah, I was almost there. So close.” She’s doing that thing again. Honey brown gaze boring into him like she’s trying to dissect him with her eyes. He can see her from his peripheral vision. At that moment he’s pretty sure that she’s doing it to put a barrier between them, to keep things from getting real. She’s flirtatious, but when push comes to shove, he knows that she needs this. Their explicit banter is some kind of fucked up form of a hug to her.
“That’s too bad, I guess that’s how you probably knew it was a dream. I always finish things.” He replies, still keeping it cool despite the intensity of the conversation. It’s a relief for Robert in a fucked up way to see that she’s at least able to crack some jokes. But he knows she is just as fucked up over what happened yesterday as he is. With a single smooth maneuver, he slides into an open parking space in the crowded parking garage. “Is this your place?”
“Nice moves, Baby Driver.” She teases, surprisingly able to recall an applicable reference. “Yeah, this is the parking garage I live in. My favorite barrel fire is on level C.”
“Wrong side of the law. But close. I’ll give you a half-point for it.”
“I’ll take anything you give me, anytime.”
“Great, so you won’t fight me when I ask you to take the medicine the pharmacy gave you on time. You can’t skip or stop taking those antibiotics until they’re all gone.”
She lets out a loud, annoyed sigh. “Fine, fine. But I’m getting Malevola to heal me this afternoon.”
“And surely you won’t owe her something for that. I seem to recall that she was pretty fucking pissed at you.”
“Robert, I need my arm back. I can’t just sit around while everyone does the heavy lifting. This city is in shambles. Suspension or not, I don’t give a shit, I need to be out there.”
“You could, you know. Cleaning this shit up isn’t going to be an easy task, sure, but no one would fault you for needing time to process getting shot. The physical part of it is one thing, but the mental is completely different.”
“I’ll be fine, Robert. Don’t worry about me. The damage is done. It’ll make me feel better to actually do something useful.”
“Like stepping in front of a bullet to save my life?” Robert suggests with a light-hearted tone.
“I wasn’t even thinking about that. That doesn’t count.”
“I’m pretty sure that counts. At least from my perspective, it very much counts.”
They lapse into silence, Courtney worrying at her lower lip in deep thought.
“Would you-“
“Do you want-“
They speak at the same time. Not the first time it’s happened. Funny that it’s happened twice.
“You first,” Robert yields, establishing that prolonged eye contact that they’re prone to. His gaze is softened, gentle as it holds hers.
“Would you like to come up?”
“That depends,” his hands drum idly on the worn leather of the steering wheel. “Is Beef allowed in? And are you going to try and jump my bones?”
She laughs. “I don’t give a fuck as long as my landlord doesn’t see. I can’t afford any pet deposit. My roommate probably isn’t home so that’s fine too. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner with me. When we feel better.”
“What like–like a date?” She stammers.
“Not “like a date”—On a date. Third date, I take you out for dinner.”
“Pfft, okay. But you’re supposed to fuck after dinner. Not before,” she says. “You coming or what?”
He’s immediately wrestling with the stupid side of himself that wants more than anything to just do the wrong thing. To give into the carnal urge that’s gnawing at his self control. If they reopen wounds, fuck it, they can just go back to the hospital. It’s not a far drive. The responsible side of himself is chastising him viciously about worsening their injuries. It wouldn’t be a fun conversation with a doctor. She was discharged not even half an hour ago.
Before he can answer to fill the several moments of silence, Robert’s phone rings. It’s abrupt and it pulls him out of his turbulent thoughts. With reluctance, he casts his gaze to his phone on the socket.
“Shit,” his jaw clenches as he reads the caller ID.
“Who is it?” Courtney asks, a glimmer of curiosity flashing in her brown eyes.
“Blazer,” comes Robert’s reply, breathless. He lifts his hands from the steering wheel to drag his hands over his face, and notes just how warm it is. Fuck, was he blushing that whole time? Surely not. Courtney would have ripped him apart. She isn’t exactly the most perceptive of individuals.
“What the fuck does she want on a Saturday? Are weekends no longer sacred?” She’s joking, Robert can hear it in the tone of voice she’s using. But it’s peppered with frustration.
“I’m going to answer. It’s probably about your suspension.”
“I’m still suspended after that hero shit I did?” She’s a little too amused by this fact. But there’s also barely veiled rage flashing in her eyes. “I take a fucking bullet for you and they still won’t let me off?”
All Robert can do is shake his head. “We’ll figure it out. I’m going to answer the phone now.”
Before the call goes to voicemail Robert taps the green accept call button. “Hey, Blazer, everything okay?”
“Robert, are you free in the next hour?” She’s straight to business. It’s professional, those barriers are up when it comes to work and Robert shifts into employee mode.
“What’s going on?” He asks, clear in his need for the details unmuddled by personal feelings.
Courtney looks at Robert quizzically, as if trying to decipher the conversation while halfway out the side of his passenger door.
“I’ve heard back from Corporate,” she replies. But it doesn’t sound good and Robert can tell from the way she’s careful to say each word that she’s about to try and drop a bomb without it blowing up.
“Uh, you’re making it sound like that isn't a good thing?”
“It’s… not, Robert,” Blazer says, and it’s so honest it makes Robert visibly wince. He appreciates the candidness of her reply but it doesn’t stop the knot from forming in his stomach that makes him feel a little nauseous. Almost like he’s had way too much to drink. “Can you get over to the address I text you? They scheduled it for 10:30, but they’ll keep rescheduling until you’re free. It’s serious.”
“Yeah, I got that impression. I’ll be there,” He says, reluctant and feeling the last forty-eight hours body check him into a state of pure exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Robert. I tried to handle it myself but they would like to hear from her Dispatcher directly.” Blazer sounds sincere, and it sucks. But he’s not angry. There is only one person responsible for the position he’s in right now and he’s willing to stand up to face the jury on her behalf. She’s more than paid penance for her mistakes. Albeit her lack of communication muddied things considerably for the Z-Team. Her heart is in the right place, that is unquestionable. He’s determined to make that known, whatever the cost.
“You’ve done the best you can, that’s all I can ask for. See you there.” He hangs up and sinks into the driver’s seat like a balloon deflating slowly.
“Talk about a boner killer,” Courtney grumbles. She’s trying to cheer him up the only way she knows how. It’s sweet, but unhelpful. She’s picked up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere. “Uh, shit, it’s bad isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
He takes a moment to hold his breath and then lets out a long and exasperated sigh. He hasn't even had the opportunity to freshen up at all. He’s in desperate need of a shower, and has yet to even brush his teeth. Looking in the mirror he can see just how dark the bags under his eyes are and the five-o-clock shadow is not much better. When he turns to face her, her expression shifts to concern.
“I hate to ask when you’re clearly going to be trying to enjoy your amazing painkillers but I need someone to watch Beef for a couple of hours. Also, could I borrow your bathroom for like fifteen minutes?” Robert asks with a standard Robert Robertson the Third miserable deadpan.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll hold it against you, though.”
“Thanks, you’re saving my ass here,” he says with a sigh of relief.
“I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”
He turns the key to turn off the car engine and grabs the paper bag with her medication then frees Beef out of the back seat. His dog obediently hops out of the car, well-trimmed claws clicking against the cracked cement of the sidewalk as his tongue lolls out of his mouth in pure, clueless bliss.
She lives on the third floor of some kind of factory building converted into apartments. It’s probably not cheap, even with a roommate. It’s definitely overpriced. There’s an elevator but Courtney nudges Robert to the staircase. “No cameras,” she insisted, and Robert had to question why she knew there was a lack of surveillance.
They sneak Beef in successfully and the second they pass through the threshold of the apartment Robert tosses the medication on the laminate countertop. With little time to waste he begins unbuttoning the blood-stained SDN Dispatcher button-up in a focused hurry. He gets about halfway and starts to shrug it off his shoulders when he catches Courtney watching—no ogling, that’s the correct word for the way she’s dragging her honey-brown gaze over his battlescars.
Robert slows down. She can’t shake him, his stoic and confident demeanor has him make a spectacle out of it. If she wants to watch, he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s obvious that he’s not shy about these sorts of things. Even if he’s covered in taped on bandages that cover deep purple, almost black bruises scattered across his torso. Broken ribs are wrapped with gauze and there’s probably a few new scars that he’s going to add to his vast collection when he heals.
“Shit, you might need those painkillers more than I do. Wanna bum one?” Courtney says, clearing her throat. She’s only challenging his confidence, not at all reserved in the greed flashing behind her long, dark lashes.
“Yeah, barring out in front of SDN Corporate is a great look for me trying not to get you fired.” Sarcasm, their favored language to communicate in.
But Courtney actually breaks and takes on a confused and disturbed expression. “It’s that bad? They won’t fire me, will they?” There’s a tinge of worry in her voice. “If they fire me, I’ll start a fucking union. I’ll fucking do it, Robert.”
He can’t help but laugh, it’s clipped and it hurts. “I imagine there’s more in your favor than not considering the facts.” Each word that leaves him is a struggle to get out. He finally takes in his surroundings with a brief survey of the apartment before throwing his shirt on the counter by the bag medication.
“Where’s your bathroom? Need to try to look somewhat put together,” Robert asks. He can’t see it, it doesn’t look like there is a door to one in the common space.
Courtney’s apartment is cluttered, not terribly, but it has scattered books and magazines strewn about in chaotic piles. There’s a leaning pile of what looks like records for the miniature record player in front of the black IKEA square rack shelving. Some books are neatly placed, and there’s a lot of potted succulents. There’s a large piece of glassware that is unmistakably a bong with a lighter next to it on the cheap square wood coffee table. She has a TV, it’s small but it’s more than what Robert has: The screen of his cellphone.
“I kind of like the look you’ve got going on. It suits you. Finally let the outside match the inside.” She’s looking over her shoulder with a shit-eating grin, goading him into another entertaining verbal battle of chicken. He follows her into her room and Courtney gestures to the attached room.
“In that I look like I live in a dumpster. I feel seen.” Robert snatches the door knob with an unceremonious twist of the doorhandle. It pushes open with minimal sticking of the hinges. “You have an en-suite? Fancy,” Robert retorts, allowing her the comfort of playful banter.
“Robert, that’s exactly what a man who lives in a dumpster would say,” she says with a click of her tongue and a mocking wince. “But I think a dumpster might be more furnished than your place.” She shoves a fluffy pink towel into his arms. “Don’t clog my drain when you crank it in there.”
“I only do that in the suit, remember? Your drains are safe. You got a spare toothbrush?”
“What does this look like, a CVS? Just borrow mine.”
“Huh. Thought it looked weird in here. Also. Gross. I’ll just use my finger.”
“You like putting fingers in your mouth?”
“Isn’t that a specific pattern of thought.” He calls her out, blunt delivery.
She flushes, annoyed. “Well, you–” She loses her thought and growls as she loses her train of thought. “Just take your fucking shower, okay?”
Robert smirks with sly satisfaction at the victory. He shuts the bathroom door and locks it behind him to let her cool down from the loss. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out how to turn the shower on. Once he does, he throws off the rest of his clothing over the toilet seat.
Her makeup is all over the sink, brushes, tubes of lipstick, and other stuff Robert is not all that familiar with.There’s a bottle of what looks like water that is sitting there with an open flip top cap. Her frayed tooth brush definitely needs to be replaced and is just laying out on the counter by itself. The tube of toothpaste is squeezed to shit and openly spilling on the sink space. At least she has a laundry basket that she’s actively using. But the trash bag needed to be changed probably a week ago. Definitely the bathroom of someone living without the capability of executive function.
Thankfully it’s a clean shower, with just a few empty bottles of body wash and shampoo aside the replacements in the caddy. Robert is sure to make the shower a quick one, freshening up where it matters most. For good measure he’s sure to blast himself with ice cold water, trying to wake himself up. He’s praying to whatever god that might be out there that coffee is going to be at this meeting.
He realizes sooner rather than later that he has to put on his worn, blood and grime-stained pants and underwear, which is not ideal but not the worst he’s worn before. When he steps out of the bathroom to get his shirt from the kitchen space, his attention is pulled to the bed in the center of the room.
Courtney is tangled up in the sheets of her bed, Beef curled up with his round flank pressed to her legs. She’s passed out in the heap of dark blankets, breathing light and airy. She’s hugging a pillow, the heavily bandaged arm laying on top of it. Robert feels immediate envy at her ability to fall asleep so quickly. Surely he wasn’t in the bathroom that long?
When he checks his phone there’s a snap of panic that bludgeons him like a baseball bat. He’d been in there for almost half an hour. From where he’s laying, Beef shifts. He’s peacefully resting his head on Courtney’s while observing Robert’s anxious scurrying. Completely unperturbed. Despite it all, Robert is still unable to resist giving him a scratch on the head. “Make sure she takes her medicine, huh, boy?” Beef’s eyes close, like he’s struggling to keep awake.
Even though he’s in a hurry he’s sure to silently click the door to her bedroom shut. His dirty shirt is still laying on the counter beside Courtney’s pain meds. In one motion he throws the shirt over his shoulder and starts to search the kitchen cabinets. He’s determined as he opens and closes pantry doors until he finds where the drinking glasses were stored. He fills one up, snatching Courtney’s medication.
He nearly drops what he’s carrying with a sudden flinch as a figure moves in the corner of his eyeview. It causes stab of pain to rip through him in deep protests after shifting into a defensive stance, ready to fuck up whatever or whoever if they threaten him.
There’s a young woman with black hair and dark eyes standing in the living room with a travel cup in her hand and a book in the other. Her eyes are wide like saucers and she's staring Robert down like she’s unsure of what the fuck is wrong with him. This must be Courtney’s very much at home roommate.
“Uh, shit. Sorry, I was just leaving,” Robert scrambles to say.
“Those are my cups,” she says, totally scandalized.
“Fuck, uh.” Her response bewilders him. “I’ll wash it for you when I come back later.”
She’s watching him for a single moment more before she decides not to speak with him further. With a deeply annoyed scoff she slumps into the cushions on the small and white fabric couch in the living room. Wonderful first impression, on both fronts.
“Great,” Robert mumbles under his breath as he moves with a purpose to deliver the water and medication on Courtney’s bedside table. He quickly buttons his shirt back on before leaving the room.
With a final pause before he leaves the apartment, he throws a glance over his shoulder. “She’s on painkillers, can you check on her at some point?”
“Yeah, sure,” Courtney’s roommate responds with a dismissive wave of her hand. She’s too busy to return eye contact as she flips through a large textbook.
He spends the drive rehearsing her defense. Plays it over and over, starting and stopping only to stare at the road with deadened eyes and frustration making his fingertips tingle with a coldness from the nerves. Somehow every time he runs it back it’s worse than the last thing he tried to say. But he needs to get this right. The Z-Team needs Invisigal, needs to see that even when someone stumbles there’s always a way forward for them to stand back up and do good.
The building is in DTLA, a part that hasn’t been destroyed by the Red Ring’s assault on the city. Not to say that it hasn’t been affected, there are damaged structures and evidence of car wrecks pushed into gutters. This is probably the easiest it’s ever been driving through this part of the city.
He makes a move to push the door open, but it’s an automatic door and he nearly loses his balance in his attempt. He blames the lack of coffee as the culprit.
Mandy stands up from where’s sitting in the atrium lobby. The amulet is still secured in Chase’s possession and it’s jarring for Robert to see her with brunette hair. She’s all business, dressed in a professional pantsuit with her hair tied back in a neat bun.
“Oh thank goodness, you made it. I was starting to worry.” And then she sees what he’s wearing. “Uh, Robert, have you not changed since…?”
“Hm? Yeah, no. I haven’t really had the opportunity. I’ve been at the hospital and if the news is any indicator I think it’s possible that my apartment building got blown up. I haven’t had time to check.”
She looks him over, like she’s trying to salvage the situation. It’s not salvageable, but it’s sweet of her to try.
“Robert,” she starts speaking with that gentle tone that’s simultaneously caring and all business. “They are deciding if she’s worth the risk. I tried to convince them with her performance statistics, but they weren’t buying it. They want to know about her progress in the Phoenix program, if there’s any hope for improvement to her behavior. I thought it would be like it was in the past when these kinds of incidents happen but the fact they are pulling it from my hands is not good.”
“Hey, you did great. You still have those statistics, right? I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, but… I am still worried. They don’t know.”
Robert furrows his brow, confused. “Don’t know about what?”
“About your… Personal feelings.”
Shit. “That’s probably not something we should bring up.”
“G-great, I just. I wanted to know if we should be open about that or…” She trails off.
“If we open with that, they’re not going to believe a word I say, even though it’s one hundred percent true.” Robert picks up to finish her line of thought.
“But if they find out,” Blazer says with a hushed voice. “If they find out it’ll be worse.”
“We’ll table that problem for another day. Right now, we have to let them know that Visi is a hero. If it comes up in the future, we’ll handle that then. But we have enough to deal with presently. I have an idea of what to say.”
The meeting room is frigid. It makes the light hairs on Robert’s arm stand up as he takes a seat beside Blazer at the long oval dark wood table. It’s been polished so much that Robert can see his fucked up reflection off the surface. The chairs are cushioned incredibly well. Much more comfortable than what they have at Torrance. Fuck, they were even more comfortable than the pilot’s seat in his suit. And he had SDN resources to make the cockpit actually comfortable for the suit’s rebuild. It was like sitting on a cloud that specializes in eliminating crippling years worth of back pain.
There are three others in the room, all sitting at the three imposing chairs at the head of the table. Robert recognizes that these must be his executioners.
“Good morning, Mecha Man, Blonde Blazer.” The voice is coming from the elderly woman in the center chair. Her hair is stark white, and her eyes are a piercing blue-gray. It’s then that Robert realizes the chill in the room is coming from her.
“You’re—“
“Cryodancer?” She finishes his sentence before he has the chance to do so. “Yes, you would be correct. It’s been some years since I’ve had the pleasure of hero work. Last night’s events were quite exhilarating, though I certainly wouldn’t find myself making a habit of that. I prefer to foster the next generation, at this point in my life.”
She gestures to her colleagues on either side of her. “This is Druid, our environmental specialist,” To her left is a man whose skin is intricately patterned in what looks like tree bark. Which makes sense, Robert realizes, since there is a bouquet of colorful flowers atop of his head like a crown. Parts of his skin fade from brown to green to violet.
“A pleasure, Mecha Man.” Druid’s voice is raspy, and there's a deeper warmth to it that is almost comforting. Like the great crackling of a warm hearth.
“And this is Ambient, who handles our communications network.” When she gestures to her right Robert can see that there is no love lost for him. It’s pointed in the sharp, cold glare that could almost cut. He must have heard recordings from the Z-Team shifts.
Can’t blame him for being pissed.
Ambient doesn’t speak, dipping his head into a curt, respectful nod.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” Robert responds, sitting up a little straighter in his chair.
Blazer’s casting nervous glances around the room, and it’s jarring to see her so cowed before the power present. But she can’t do anything at this point but be a witness and an advocate. It’s in Robert’s hands now to determine his fate.
“Yes, it is nice to finally meet Bobby’s, excuse me, Mecha Man Prime’s grandson in person. Though I wished it were under differing circumstances,” Cryodancer says. ”We’re here today to discuss the current status of Invisigal’s suspension. As of this moment, the vote is two for expulsion and one for reinstatement. I won’t say whose vote is whose, as a matter of fairness to my colleagues. Invisigal has had a less than stellar streak on her record. When we offered the Phoenix Program grant, we did not expect perfection from those we initiated. However, we did expect some level of effort to be made. Eleven weeks in a row she was consistently the lowest scored hero on the board at Torrance. She set a record for the lowest score overall. One of her former dispatchers reported that she,” Cryodancer shuffles a paper and clears her throat to read verbatim: “She utilized a company provided bottle of super glue to fuse an SDN Dispatch computer’s keys in place, preventing any dispatching for the Z-Team for three shifts before the former employee decided to leave the employment of SDN in frustration with the Phoenix Program’s hopelessness.”
Cryodancer looks up from her paper at Robert. “Can you corroborate that Invisigal has conducted herself in any unsavory ways to try and get you to quit?”
“The Z-Team entirely tried to get me to quit, I won’t lie about that. But that’s because they were afraid–”
“Mecha Man, let’s keep it exclusive to Invisigal. Has she committed any infractions against you specifically?”
“No,” Robert lies. The image of the donut smashed over his keyboard flashes in his mind, right after she’d punched him in the face. He flexes his hand, works out the nerves, pushes them away. They’re gone, leaving him with a familiar dull ache.
Cryodancer is moving on. “Your dispatching is truly excellent, and your work with the Phoenix program has not gone unnoted. Your ability to connect with them has been unlike any of your predecessors.”
Her sharp gaze points to Blazer, who has been sitting prim and proper in her chair. “You’ve written here about the many triumphs he’s had as Z-Team’s dispatcher.”
An invitation, one that Blazer accepts. “Yes, Robert, as he’s known by in Torrance HQ, has been a stellar mentor to the Z-Team’s roster of heroes. He has a reputation as being the “Pep talk guy”, often reaching out to those at their lowest points to bring them confidence they otherwise wouldn’t think to have. He’s never once given up on a teammate, or anyone for that matter. Invisigal is no exception, and I believe she is capable of being the hero we see in her if given another opportunity."
“These are quite the accounts of Mecha Man’s achievements as a Dispatcher,” the warm gravelly voice of Druid admits. “Though we are still trying to parse the decision in regards to Invisigal. It is important we clarify the exact details of what made her choose to defy orders utilizing SDN equipment. We are unsure if she is capable of the demands of a life as a hero.”
All eyes are on Robert. The room is quiet and still way too cold from Cryodancer’s latent aura.
He takes a deep breath, his gaze like steel as he levels it against the trio of executives. “Invisigal, like every other member of the Phoenix Program, is far from perfect. How they display that is different for each of them. But what each and every single one of them has, especially Invisigal, is the desperate desire to be a hero.”
“Without her actions, I would not have received the Astral Pulse to power my suit. She acted out on her own, but with the very intention to thwart Shroud’s offensive. She was right, she just didn’t explain herself to anyone. Invisigal is a shrewd hero. Her eye for opportunity is not something that we should give up on so soon. Without her, I wouldn’t be able to present that to you here today. I’d be dead, plain and simple. She had the instinct to take advantage of Shroud’s mindgames and twist them into our favor not only once, but several times. She is what the Phoenix Program is about.”
“I’m thinking about the future. Before I joined SDN, my life was solitary. I acted on my own, as an independent hero. I tore through every cent of my inheritance, sold every unnecessary keepsake to keep Mecha Man going. My life was a dark tunnel that ended with me following in the footsteps of my father and grandfather, another dead, powerless man in that suit. And Mecha Man was going to end with me when that did happen. There was no one left in my life, and I had no intention of changing that. But by some miracle, I was able to become a part of something. I shifted trajectories, my life became something useful. I was able to take these broken people, to let them know that heroes get broken too, and let them know I see them and understand.”
“I connected with them, because they’re people. People who have made less than ideal choices, but in their situation, can any of us say we might have done differently? I changed their perspectives and they changed mine. Invisigal and all the other members of the Z-Team have shown that there is a chance for any villain to get out and stay out. They don’t have to follow these overlords who are blackmailing them into working for them. There's a place for them in this world that doesn’t involve the designs of someone who doesn’t have their best interest in mind. If we abandon any one of them, then we’re sending a message that there’s only one way for them. They’ll be back on the street, wreaking havoc and misery while wishing that they could have had just one more chance to make it right.”
It's been quiet for a long time after Robert finishes speaking. The words hang heavy as an anvil about to drop. Cryodancer glances between her advisors.
“Mecha Man, what would you do to ensure that Invisigal stays in line?” She laces her fingers together.
“I’ll join her Dispatches. Mentor her out on the field. I can set the example you’re looking for from her.”
“And how would that work? You’re a Dispatcher currently.”
“Well actually,” Blazer speaks up. “I think it’s time that Mecha Man makes his return. He has the Astral Pulse. Royd has been working on repairing the suit in the aftermath of last night’s battle. Mecha Man captured Shroud, I think that we should consider a transfer to Hero.”
“And who would dispatch the Z-Team? If Mecha Man is a hero, he certainly wouldn’t be assigned to Z-Team. We’d likely have him transferred to the DTLA branch.”
“I need to be on the Z-Team,” Robert affirms. “That’s the only way this will work.”
Blazer clears her throat. “I know I’m head of Torrance branch, and I know that it is a lot to manage, but now that I have off-loaded my abilities until we resolve Track Star’s issue, I have more time to Dispatch. I believe between Mecha Man and I, we can work in tandem to manage the Z-Team. We could consider him a Team Captain.”
“That’s an unconventional deviation to our standard process,” Ambient speaks up for the first time. His voice is a deep, low baritone that reverberates from the room’s acoustics.
“Indeed,” Cryodancer agrees with a hum. “But we learned from last night’s attack that standards might need to be adjusted to account for unconventional situations. Lest they be used against us.”
“Then we take another vote?” Druid perks up, the twigs he has for ears perking like an excited puppy’s.
“All in favor of reinstatement, raise a hand,” Cryodancer declares, raising a hand.
Druid’s hand raises eagerly.
That leaves Ambient, who is quietly analyzing his teammates. With reluctance, his hand raises.
“The decision to reinstate Invisigal and dismiss the suspension has passed under the terms that Mecha Man Blue will join and monitor her dispatches until the allotted probationary period of three months passes.” Cryodancer stands with authority.
“We will also schedule a press meeting and subsequent formal event to make official the return of Mecha Man to the field,” she adds. “Thank you for your dedication to SDN. This meeting is adjourned.”