Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You can take the super out of the hero, but you can’t take the hero out of the super. 

It sounds like the kind of corny shit that you’d find on a “thank you” card in the back corner of a Walgreens, but it’s the truth. 

Robert has spent the majority of his life living and breathing the concept. Looking up to his father, dreaming of and dreading the day the he would take on the Mechaman mantle. That day had come too soon. 

He’d come into his title stumbling, gaining momentum and falling into step with every successful takedown and life uplifted. 

The recognition and praise had felt like a gust of warm wind in the middle of winter. Unnatural but not wholly unwelcome.

But it had come with sacrifices. Somewhere along the way he had stopped caring about himself, content to live with the basics of self-care and hygiene without worrying about how the world would see him. They would only remember a man in a suit or the mech that made the man. His true self was just another stepping stone that paved the path of the legend of Mechaman. 

Far too often this also meant that he neglected to care much about his own well-being. 
Every scar and bruise was hidden away, a patchwork of failures and successes culminating into an extreme tolerance to pain that was now going out of its way to bite him squarely on the ass. 

Just to be clear; Robert was well aware that the guy had a gun. What he wasn’t aware of- partially due to the fact that he was a little too preoccupied with pulling a mother and daughter out of the line of fire- was that the bastard had gotten in a lucky shot. In fact no-one was really aware of it until it was too late. 

It had gone like this: 

After his brief encounter with Flambae in the SDN gym, Robert had scoped out a temporary replacement for his workouts. The less one-on-one time he could get with the ex-villain, the better. It was only a matter of time until something sparked recognition, he would just rather not have that explode into his early cremation while he was at work. 

So here he was, completing a 6 mile run while peering out into the cracked parking lot of a strip-mall through the grimy windows of the cheapest gym he could find. As long as it had functioning equipment it would work. Or it had up until a gun-wielding manic had shot through the building’s main power supply. 

Of course, because why not right? 

The lights cut out following the loud pop of gunfire and muffled manic laughter, and Robert trips and nearly slams his head on the front of the treadmill as it comes to an abrupt halt. He braces himself on one arm, starting at the blank progress screen in disappointment for a moment before pushing off and heading for the door. He doesn’t even attempt to hold back his sigh as he runs an open palm over his forehead and through his sweat damp hair. 

Same shit, different day. 

There just had to be a jewelry store next door, and it just had to have a desirable piece on display, and it just had to be next to a fucking daycare. 

Robert eyes a rack of curling weights on his way out, picking a particularly garish pink 5 pounder and swinging it experimentally a couple of times with all of the enthusiasm of an overwrought DMV attendant. Did he have a plan? No. But he’d been in situations like this hundreds of times, and his injuries from his accident had all but healed, which meant he could now accomplish more than his last botched attempt at stopping a robbery.

He toes the door open and leans against the wall between businesses, taking a moment to assess the situation. The window of the jewelry store had been smashed in, the protective bars on the outside cast to the ground and smoldering around the edges, a still-burning blowtorch on the ground reassuring him that it hadn’t been the work of someone with fire powers at least. One less thing to worry about. 

What he did have to worry about was the mother, somehow completely oblivious to the scene unfolding, escorting her child from their car to the building. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…Ma’am-!” 

Robert drops the weight and launches himself forward just as the armed robber emerges, kicking the door out with a sack slung over his shoulder, a Carbine gun in his other hand pointed in the air. The woman screams, and the gunman reacts, sending a hail of bullets across the lot haphazardly. Robert has just enough time to grab the pair, pulling them both close and curling over them in a crouch as bullets whiz by overhead. As soon as the gunfire pauses he drags them behind the shelter of a car, then sprints back the other way, snatching up the weight. The robber is distracted, juggling the bag while trying to load another clip into the gun, and it’s the perfect kind of rookie mistake he needs. He ducks into a swinging kick, hooking the man’s ankle with his foot and sweeping it out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground, skull cracking against the concrete. He doesn’t even get a second the wheeze before Robert unceremoniously drops the weight on his gut, catching him around the neck in a headlock as he reflexively curls forward and drops the gun. 

“It’s 6 o’clock on a Monday morning, don’t you have anything better to do?” 

The man sputters in confusion and Robert locks his arms in tighter cutting him off. 

“It was a rhetorical question asshole.” 

Not caring about how it might look, he leans back, partially pulling the guy onto this lap, then kicks out with his right foot and sends the gun skittering out of reach. 

“Now I know I didn’t ask if you preferred to be the big or the little spoon, but it’s too late for that now. Just stay still and be a good little spoon until the cops get here.”

The robber grunts and tries to pull at his arms, wiggling around ineffectually before Robert tightens his arms one last time and lets him drop limp to the ground. 

“Yeah, again. I wasn’t asking.” 

He rolls the man onto his stomach and ties his hands behind his back with the waistband string of his sweats, then plants his knee on his back and waits, redirecting his attention to the woman peaking around the side of the car. 

“You guys okay?”

She jumps with a gasp, ducking back around the vehicle, then hesitantly reappears. 

“Is… is he dead?” 

Robert chuckles and nudges the man with is knee, eliciting a low groan. 

“No, but I’m sure he wishes he was.” 

There’s a stinging pain in his side, and he ignores it assuming he’d given himself a stitch while running earlier. 

“And you guys, are you okay?” 

The mother stands up, guiding her crying daughter out from behind the car unsteadily. 

“Ye-yeah. Just a little startled. Maybe a few bruises…” She sucks in a shaky breath, “but we’re good. We’re okay.”  She leans down and hugs her daughter tight, rubbing a hand over her back as silent tears track down her cheeks. 

“Thank you.” 

Robert feels a pit of warmth bloom in his chest, startled by the flush he can feel crawling its way across his face. The face he usually has covered when he saves people. This felt so much more personal. 

“Uh, yeah-uh. No problem. At all.” He pulls his hood over his head a ducks down, feeling too exposed. He can hear sirens a few blocks over. “The cops should be here soon, can you guys wait until they get here? Maybe in your car just in case…” 

“Sure? Wait where are you going?” She pulls her daughter in closer as Robert hauls the man back, temporarily undoing his binding to tie him to a bike rack. 

“I’m late for work, I’m sure the cops can take it from here.” 

“But-!” She looks distressed, and Robert is quick to assure her with a wave as he pulls out his car keys and drops into the front seat of his car, 

“It’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure I broke a few of his ribs earlier, and unless he’s some kind of contortionist, he won’t be going anywhere tied up like that.” 

She doesn’t look assured, but he really needs to get to work. He just misses her shout as he pops the car door shut and starts the ignition. 

“But you’re bleeding!” 

And then he’s out of the parking lot and into the street, leaving the woman clutching her daughter with one hand outstretched towards his retreating car. 

Chapter Text

By the time that Robert pulls into the SDN parking lot, he’s regretting skipping his morning cup of coffee. He hasn’t been this exhausted since his recovery, taking an extra minute to rest his head against the steering wheel before giving in to his fate and crossing into the building. 

Because he’s late, most everyone is already settling into their shifts and the entrance is devoid of foot traffic. He gets a rare treat when he steps into the empty elevator, letting himself lean against the wall as the lift dings upwards. 

Just what had he done last night to deserve this level of exhaustion?  The stitch in his side helpfully reminds him that he'd done a bit more than usual at the gym, so it was a lot easier to chalk it up to that- not bothering to look into it further as he stumbles his way out onto the dispatch floor. 

Robert straightens as he passes Blonde Blazer’s office, nearly bypassing her completely before he realizes that he isn’t in uniform. He stops and leans back, grasping the doorframe for balance and throwing on an apologetic smile. 

“Hey Blaze, sorry I’m late. Got held up on the way here,” He pulls at the cloth of his hood, “I know I’m not up to code, but I promise I’ll get changed before second shift.” 

Blazer raises an eyebrow at him, failing to hide an amused smile. 

“I can forgive it just this once, but make sure it doesn’t happen again,” She admonishes without any heat, waving him off with a nervous glance towards the cubicles, “Go ahead, I think Chase might actually have a melt down if he has to deal with your team any longer.” 

A flurry of curses and the slam of a fist on a desk punctuates her point, and Robert winces before giving her a thumbs up and making a beeline for his desk. Beef meets him by his chair, yapping happily and circling around his ankles once before flopping down to sit, tail thumping rhythmically against the cheap carpet. Robert couldn’t have asked for a better companion. He quickly leans down to scoop him up, wincing at the flare of pain in his side and brushing it off, then snuggles his face into the dog’s stomach with a quiet laugh as Beef tries to contort himself around to lick at his face. 

“Hey there buddy, having a good day?” 

Beef barks, wiggling happily and redirecting his attention to Chase as he pops his head up to peer over the side of his cubicle. 

“Where the hell have you been and what’s with the clothes?” The former hero squints at him, adjusting his glasses with a frown. Robert lowers Beef to his side, cradling him with one arm as he pulls out his desk chair. 

“Had a little incident at the gym, held me up. But I’m here now.” He settles into his seat, placing Beef on the ground in one smooth movement as he plucks up his headset. 

“Yeah no shit, and about time too! You owe me for this kid, gotta be a fucking saint to deal with this much bullshit!” 

“Awe, are you calling me a saint?” 

Chase scoffs, “No way in hell!  You’ve just spent too much time around them so they don’t pull the same crap with you,” He points towards his monitor, “looks like a damn Christmas tree, better get to it.” 

And with that they settle in to work, Robert signing on with an unenthusiastic “Fun’s over kids…” and a chorus of groans. 

“Okay, I need Punch-up and Visi on this one. We got a call from a socialite claiming that someone stole her prized show cat. She says they’re armed but we need to make sure we don’t hurt the cat or she’ll sue.” 

The active calls blur across his screen and Robert rubs at his eyes with a groan, shutting out a particularly lewd comment Visi makes about expensive pussy. Despite his hopes that his work would distract him, his exhaustion has only doubled. 

“-give us the address or are we just supposed to guess?” Invisigal’s voice cuts through his fog and he sits forward in his chair. 

“Huh? Oh…right…” He rattles off the address, finding it difficult when the display darkens around the edges and obscures the letters. 

“You good there boss-man? You’re sounding a bit funny.” Malevola pipes in, an uncharacteristic edge to her voice. 

“M’fine. Just…tired I guess. And my computer is acting up.” He lifts an arm to tap at the side of the monitor, then sucks in a startled breath when the world turns on its axis forcing him to lean forward to brace himself against his desk. 

“The hell?” 

That’s when he finally spots the blood, soaking the side of his hoodie and trailing down the base of his chair to pool in a gross puddle around one of the wheels. Beef sniffs at it curiously, paws at it, then looks up at him with a whine as he cocks his head. It’s the last thing he sees before the world tunnels out from around him and he slides sideways out of his chair and to the ground. 

Chase is bored. 

At the moment, he is flipping through a few different channels and monitoring the teams. He stops a little too long on the Z-team’s channel scowling when he catches the back end of a gross comment. It’s the same kind of asinine chatter he’d expected, and he’s about to flip to another channel when he hears Malevola questioning Robert. He stops, finger hovering over the “next” button, listing intently. 

She’s right, he sounds off, a slight slur in his speech that would have otherwise gone unnoticed, words starting and stopping at irregular points as if it was a challenge to string a full sentence together. 

A desk chair clatters to his left, and he lifts his headset off and makes to stand just as Beef begins to bark, shooting around the corner and straight to his ankles. 

“Woah there big guy!” Chase pats at his side, then pulls his hand back in alarm when it makes contact with something wet and sticky, staring horrified at his open palm now covered in blood and little bits of black fur. He thinks maybe Beef is hurt, but the blood is cold and far too tacky.  

The image of Robert- looking tired and pale, Beef tucked against his side- flashes across his memory. 

“Ah fuck!” He chucks his headset, not caring if it lands on the desk, heart in his throat as he pivots around the cubicle wall. Waterboy shouts from the other side of the office, 

“B-blood! There’s- blood, oh god. In-In the elevator and-oh gosh! The walls!”  

Chase glances back, spotting the blood smeared across the wall by Blonde Blazer’s office and feeling the ice settle in his veins as he finally turns towards Robert’s desk, his chair obscuring his limp form crumpled partially underneath the office furniture. 

“Shit, kid! Robert!”

Chapter Text

The clamor in the office had died down significantly since Robert had arrived. 

And not in the bad ‘oh god he’s here, eyes on the monitor’ kind of way- but more in an anchoring sort of way. The kind of presence that falls over people like a weighted blanket. 

In fact, it’s so calm at the moment that Blazer can hear the news playing clearly from the television outside her office. 

“-is with her now.” A pause, someone clears their throat, “Thank you, Jeanine. Not all heroes wear capes, and if the events of this morning are to be believed, some of them may even wear gym clothes…” 

Okay, great hook. Sounded like some kind of fledgling vigilante, could be good recruitment material. 

Blazer leans forward, resting her chin on her palm as she glances out at the dispatch floor, not quite focusing on anything and purposefully neglecting the stack of bureaucratic paperwork cushioning her elbow. There’s an odd red splotch of something on the right side of the doorframe and she frowns, leaning a little further in her seat to get a better look. 

“-was injured I think. It looked like he was bleeding but he left before I could say anything. Please, if you know who this is-“ 

In quick succession a desk chair rolls back with a clatter, Robert’s dog begins to bark, and Waterboy appears from down the hallway pale and distraught, grasping a wet rag in his hand and babbling about blood. Chase is around the corner before she gets a chance to make it to the doorway. 

“Shit, kid! Robert!” 

Blonde Blazer doesn’t freeze. She’s not wired to panic, but she wants to. She doesn’t even realize that she’s moved until she’s beside Chase, elbowing Robert’s desk chair out of the way with a little too much force and sending it crashing through the conference room window. 

Chase is looking all of his accelerated age, pulling Robert to lay flat on his back, one hand grasping his shoulder as the other hovers trembling over his blood soaked side.

Blazer kneels down, lifting off his headset and setting it to the side before laying a palm on Robert’s cheek. He’s pale, accentuating the dark bags under his eyes, and his skin is unnaturally cold. 

“Robert, can you hear me?” She runs a thumb over his cheekbone and the slight pressure tilts his face towards her, malleable and limp like an unstrung marionette. She moves her hand down to the pulse point on his neck, noticing Chase stand and disappear in her peripheral vision as she silently counts. 

One, two, three.. 

Rapid and weak, alarmingly so. The blood loss was obvious, but this was far worse than she’d first assumed.  

Chase reappears, dropping a first aid kit and kneeling back down with a quiet grunt. Blazer greets him with solemn nod, thankful for his timing as she pulls up the bottom edge of Robert’s sweater. The white shirt beneath is saturated, but the site of the bullet hole stands out starkly against the bright red cloth. She and Chase lock eyes in disbelief. 

“What the fuuuuck,” Visi is leaning against the wall of the cubicle, an angry cat in a carrier throwing a fit at her feet as she grasps a handful of her hair. She isn’t looking directly at the wound, eyes darting over Robert’s form and settling on his face before flicking back to meet Blazer’s gaze. 

“Visi, I need you to go down to Medical and let them know we’re on our way.” 

At first it doesn’t look like she’s going to move, but then she takes a step back and disappears. If Invisigal is here, it means the team isn’t far behind. She’ll have to deal with them as they come, but that wasn’t her main concern. She gently turns Robert onto his side to check his back for an exit wound, unsure as to whether or not she should be grateful when she finds one. 

“Goddammit kid, just a fucking magnet for trouble.” Chase mumbles, voice tight as he hands her a wad of gauze. 

“Jaysus Mary’an Joseph…” 

“It looks like a damn crime scene in here, what sad motherfu- Oh shit?!” 

Blaze doesn’t have to look back to know who just stepped in. She keeps her focus, lifting Robert partially into her lap so that Chase can finished packing the bandages into place. Bandages that immediately bloom bright red.  

Something wasn’t right. After such an extended time, the bleeding should have begun to slow, but here it was flowing like a fresh wound. They had to stop it somehow or he wasn’t going to make the trip down to medical. 

Blazer looks up and scans the gathering crowd, noting more than one member of the Z-team hovering close, fidgeting uncertainly. Except for Flambae who is leaning against the wall to her office, arms crossed and face blank but laser focused on them- on Robert. She points directly at him and gestures him forward. He raises an eyebrow and pushes off the wall as Chase splutters. 

“Oh hell no, not happening!” The man leans protectively over Robert, twisting to glare back at Flambae as he approaches. 

“I don’t see any other choice here Chase, he’s lost too much blood, he can’t afford to lose any more.” The ex-hero grinds his teeth, balling a hand into the fabric of Robert’s hoodie, staring hard at the pale face of his surrogate nephew. 

“Fine, but I swear to god if he so much as singes one inch of skin he isn’t supposed to, I’ll have his balls in a jar on my desk.” 

Flambae, more brawn than brain, doesn’t immediately catch on, 

“I don’t even know why the fuck you called me over here old man, but I won’t hesitate to smoke your bony old ass!” He ignites a fireball in one hand, which extinguishes the second Blazer grabs his wrist. 

“We need you to cauterize his wound.” 

“I…what?” 

Blazer releases him, pulling Robert up a little higher to remove the blood soaked bandages. 

“Just please be careful.” 

Flambae was used to hurting people, took a bit of joy in it in fact- but this time he hesitates. He looks at his hands, balls them into fists, then breaths out a sigh through his nose as he places them on either side of the wound and ignites them. 

Someone is shoving a red hot poker into his side. What had once been a dull consistent pain now flared into shocking agony. 

Robert heaves in a breath, instinctively trying to curl in and protect himself, but something is holding him down. His throat is dry and he falls into a coughing fit as he cracks his eyes open. 

He was right, Flambae is burning him; he must have figured out his identity, was here for revenge. Robert tries to pry the hands away but he’s locked in place, restrained by a pair of unnaturally strong arms that he tries in vain to escape. 

“Get off!”  He croaks out, coughing as he continues to struggle against his captors, unfamiliar panic setting in at his lack of mobility and the unexpected pain, “please…“ God, he sounds so pathetic, “ I’m sorry. I didn't mean to...”  He cant get enough air-

Then there’s a hand in his hair, someone pulls him against their chest, he can barely hear their heart through the pounding rush of blood in his ears. Someone’s speaking in a low rumble. 

“It’s alright kid, you’re okay. Stay with me, ya hear?” The voice is familiar and Robert tries to focus on it, taking gasping breaths as he tries to make out the face hovering above his. 

“It’s all done now. You did good kid. You did good.” 

Recognition sets in and relief washes over him, leaving him drained and confused. Robert tries to roll his head to the side but his body doesn’t want to cooperate. He can still feel fingers running over his scalp. 

He wheezes out a miserable, "Chase?"  

and he desperately wants to hear what the man has to say but he can’t. It's as though he's trapped in a cave far beneath the ground, the world crumbling beneath his feet. 

Then he’s falling. 

Chapter Text

Who the fuck steals a cat for ransom? 

Invisigal has just closed in on the group of would-be catnappers. She masks herself as she sprints forward, using her momentum to launch herself off of wall of the alleyway to kick one of the goons straight in the face. She snatches the cat carrier out of the air as he flies back, cursing under her breath when the fuzzy prick inside tries to take a swipe at her from one of the air holes. 

Punch-up comes barreling in from behind her, laying another robber flat with one well aimed fist. Visi crouches to go after the next one when a strange noise crackles across her comm, she can just make out Robert’s confused mumbling before there’s a distinct thump and then…Beef barking? What the hell was that? 

She straightens, making eye contact with Punch-up to make sure that he was hearing it too. He’s paused, holding one of the men by the collar, fist held mid-air, head cocked and eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“The hell was that about?” 

Then Chase’s voice filters over the line, and even though it’s heavily muffled, the panic in his tone is unmistakable. 

What started as a vague feeling in the pit of her stomach migrates, taking residence as a vice on her lungs. She pivots, ignoring Punch as he yells after her.

He could handle it. 

Visi has to fight with herself the entire way back, mentally pushing back at the growing mass of concern she can feel bubbling to the surface of her thoughts. Robert could have just spilled coffee on himself and knocked his headset off or something equally as stupid- but that explanation didn’t quite fit in with the other pieces of the puzzle, too small and not quite meeting at the edges. 

“Hey, we uh… gonna get any work here or…?” Golem grumbles over the comm. 

“Damn, you’re really as dense as you look huh?  Didn’t you hear that just now? Some shit is going down back at base.” Prism sounds a little too excited. Invisigal rolls her eyes, plucking off her earpiece and pocketing it without slowing her pace. 

She ignores the elevator, choosing to vault up the stairs in the interest of speed and it’s only the thin smear of blood sitting starkly against the wall of Blazer’s office that makes her falter. Her first instinct is to disappear, flattening herself against the wall and holding her breath at the same time that Chase goes rushing by, first aid kit in hand.

 He looks…rough.

Visi narrows her eyes, following at his heels and leaning over his shoulder to see what he’s rushing toward. The hairs on the back her neck stand on end and she tenses as she comes to a halt. She knows whose desk they’re approaching, isn’t so stupid that she can’t put two and two together when she sees Blonde Blazer leaning over a figure collapsed on the ground. She takes a hesitant step forward, grasping at the wall of the cubicle, chest tight when Blazer leans back to make space for Chase and Robert comes into view. 

For a moment she thinks he’s dead, she’d seen corpses with more color. She gets a full-body rush of icy dread that causes her to take an involuntary breath, hissing through her teeth. Then Blazer pulls up the hem of Robert’s hoodie exposing his side and the fucking bullet wound there. 

She only realizes she’s still holding the cat carrier when she drops it. 

“What the fuuuuck…” 

She knew he’d been acting weird all fucking morning but how the fuck did something like this happen? Jesus Christ, he was breathing right? And the blood, all over the fucking place. She fixates on his face, looking for some sign of life; but his eyes remain shut, head rolling slightly when Blazer shifts and looks back at her. 

It takes her far too long to process the hero's command, but god if it isn’t the opening that she needs to get the hell out of dodge. She doesn’t do emotions, especially around other people. She’s halfway down the stairs before she has to stop, fumbling for her inhaler and white-knuckling the handrail, not that the medicine does anything to help. She makes it down to the landing, grasping at her chest, in full denial that this has anything to do with the image of Robert’s pale face burned into her memory. 

What kind of stupid fuck gets shot in a building full of superheroes? Especially the stupid fuck that was a superhero? 

She pulls on that well of anger, moving her hand away from her chest to punch the wall. The pain grounds her, the bone-deep bruising sensation helping her focus her thoughts. 

“FUCK!”  The exclamation is amplified by the stairway, jarringly loud and metallic, marking the stark contrast of the silence that follows. She lets it chase her out and into the lobby, pushing her until she’s standing under the sign that marks the medical wing. 

Of all of the people that she hated to deal with, the damn doctor they’d assigned to their branch of SDN was probably her least favorite. His pseudonym, Chalice, only served to accentuate his appearance- a tall man with starkly dark skin and piercing gold eyes, an intimidating mix of sharp features and intelligence. The kind of person that had no openings and took no shit. He always looked like he was looking down on her. What made it worse was that he was the kind of person that was the antithesis to her whole being. 

Because the man, for all intents and purposes- should have been a villain. 

He turns in his chair, pinning her with a flat look when she slams the door open. 

“You’re back, I see. What did you do this time?” 

She bristles as gives her a once-over and has to bite her cheek, not quite managing polite but reigning herself in enough to make a point. 

“Fuck off. I’m not here for me. One of the dispatchers upstairs managed to get himself shot. They’re bringing the dumbass down here now and want you to be ready.” 

His eyebrows raise minutely but he otherwise keeps himself composed, standing as he gestures to a nurse sitting behind a computer. She nods and shuffles around the room without a word, accustomed to this kind of emergency. The doctor refocuses his attention, arms crossed in contemplation. 

“What’s the name of the patient?” 

Goddamn if the disconnection in his tone didn’t piss her off. She grinds out Robert’s full government name and it tastes wrong on her tongue. 

“And you said he was shot? How much blood has he lost?” 

“I dunno? Like a fuck-ton? It was all over the place.” 

He looks less than amused. 

“Where is the wound?” 

“His side, on the left. Like right over his hip I think?” 

He hums, brow furrowed. 

“That shouldn’t have caused such massive bleeding. Are you sure that’s his only injury?”

“Fuck if I know, just be ready to do your damn job- asshole!” 

Which is perfect timing as a demonic looking portal appears on the wall and Blazer steps through with Robert tucked securely in her arms. 
God he looked so fucking small like that, almost like a kid that had fallen asleep in his mom’s car if it weren’t for all of the blood. 

Visi swallows and backs down, glaring as she finds a place at the edge of the room to observe. Blazer settles Robert onto a waiting gurney, wincing as she watches the Doctor lift one of his wrists, sterilizing it with practices ease before running one sharp nail over the skin and swiping a drop of the blood that wells there with a finger and onto the tip of his tongue. 
  
“He’s in shock…” He pauses, thinking, “-and his blood is showing signs of hemophilia. Is this a known condition?”  

Blonde Blazer shakes her head, frustrated, “Not that we’re aware of, but that explains the bleeding.” 

The nurse cuts down the center of Robert’s hoodie and t-shirt, exposing the fresh burn on his side. Chalice purses his lips, wiping the blood from his finger and crossing the room to wash his hands, trusting the nurse to start fluids and run the initial exam. 

“I see you’ve taken some unorthodox first-aid measures.” 

Blazer looks chastised, shoulders rising in defense, “I thought he was going to bleed out, I made a choice.” 

Chalice doesn’t scold her, just nods and closes his eyes briefly to search for the right words. 

“I wouldn’t say that it was a great one, but if you felt that it was the right thing, then what is done is done. Although this will…complicate matters a bit.” 

The blonde superhero opens her mouth to speak but the doctor cuts her off, “We can go into the detail later, for now I need you both to leave. We’re going to need to operate to understand the full scope of his injury.” 

Invisigal contemplates hiding out, but Blazer spots her before she can try anything. Instead she parks herself outside of the room, head down as she pops in a pair of earbuds to drown out the world. 

It takes far too long for them to get an update. Most of the team has stopped by at some point, Chase being the only constant as he takes a seat in the hallway and refuses to move. Even Flambae makes an appearance, marching down the hallway with single-minded determination until he stops at the door, craning around to look through the window and cursing when he can’t see anything. He stalks away without another word. 

The clock is just ticking past 8pm when Blazer reappears, on edge and obviously uncomfortable with whatever she’s about to say. 

“Chalice called me. He says Robert is stable for now but that it’s not really good news. Something is infecting his system, something that attacks the blood specifically. He thinks maybe the bullet was coated in it, but there’s no way to tell.  Over the past few hours Robert has developed a fever and treatment seems to be doing very little to combat it. It looks like his immune system is failing and if we can’t figure out the cause he’s only going to get worse.” 

Chapter Text

She doesn’t know why she’s sneaking around; she has every right to be here. Force of habit maybe? No one needed to know that she was here, especially this late at night. 

Whatever the reason, Visi slips silently past the small nurse’s station and into Robert’s room, hesitating beside the door at how wrong the whole thing feels. 

Robert was weak, she knew that, but that didn’t give him any right to get laid up like this. Everything about it made her uncomfortable, the low lighting, the consistent beeping of the heart monitor, and the fact that it was so quiet otherwise that she could hear every drip of the two IVs suspended beside his bed. None of it comes close to the discomfort she gets as she rounds his bed, tracing a hand over the rough hospital sheets until she’s peering down at him, hand planted on the mattress inches away from his exposed shoulder. He still looked like death, just warmed over. 

Whereas last time, he’d just been alarmingly pale, now there’s a flush sitting high over his cheekbones. Frowning, she lays the back of two fingers against his forehead, displeased to find the skin there clammy and warm. She lets her fingers wander, tracing over his freckles until they find a path down to card at the hair at the base of his neck, letting her thumb run over the edge of his missing ear tip. 

And as ridiculous as it is, she finds herself leaning forward to cradle his face with both of her hands, resting her forehead against his.

“This isn’t funny any more Sleeping Beauty. C’mon, wake up…” but he doesn’t respond, and her impulse control disappears. “C’mon,” She pulls back slightly, searching, then dips forward until she can feel the ghost of his breaths against her lips. One last desperate whisper, “C’mon…” 

A bark echoes from the end of the hallway, she gasps and falls back on her heels, hand shooting up to grasp at the side of her head- then disappears. 

— 

This was a pattern that Chase was getting pretty sick of repeating. 

Which was one thing that he hadn’t told Robert since they had reunited in the Records room: He’d been one of the first to visit him in the hospital after the explosion of his suit, and had continued to make visits until the kid had finally come out of his coma. It had felt like purgatory. 

So he was really getting tired of having to see him like this, his heart couldn’t take it. The only thing that even remotely helped was that this time he had Beef by his side. 

He had gone back to the bullpen to find the rotund little guy cowering under his desk, eyeing an abandoned cat carrier warily as he pawed at a small scratch on his snout. Poor thing got a little too curious. 

Chase crouches down, opening his arms and scooping him up, doing his best to ignore the way his knees crack when he stands. He makes a mental note to ask about the cat later. 

“Hey there big guy! You okay?” He hugs Beef close to his chest, chuckling sadly when the dog wiggles in excitement, selfishly seeking some small comfort in his soft fur. “Your dad went and did something stupid so we’ve gotta go and keep an eye on him. They gave me the go-ahead to take you down with me- but between the two of us- you’re a certified emotional support animal now.” 

Beef Barks, lifting his nose in the air to sniff about as they approach Robert’s room. Chase doesn’t acknowledge it besides to give the dog a pat on the head- it wasn’t a surprise that Invisibitch was somewhere nearby. It was obvious that she had some kind of odd obsession with the kid. It seemed pretty harmless for the time being, but he’d hunt her to the ends of the earth if she did anything to hurt him. 

He slides the door open with one hand, “If you’re going to skulk around at least do it during the day. You’re being sketchy as fuck. Now get out of here.” He steps inside, satisfied at the breeze that brushes past. 

“Hey there kid…” 

Chase stops beside the bed to deposit Beef, watching as the dog sniffs at the sheets, circling around the linens near Robert’s thigh before trotting up to give him a lick on the cheek. When he doesn’t respond, Beef whines and nudges him with his nose, licking him again. And this time, Robert moves; eyelids twitching as his eyebrows knit. It looks like he tries but doesn’t make it very far, only managing to blink his eyes open groggily, barely turning his head towards his dog, one hand flopping uselessly over the sheets when he attempts to reach out. 

“B’f?”

Looks like nothing really wanted to work right now. He doesn’t even acknowledge that Chase is in the room until he coughs and steps forward, arms crossed. He feels every bit the concerned parent, especially when it takes Robert a few seconds too long to lift his gaze, eyes half open and not quite focusing. 

“The fuck’d you get yourself in to?” 

Robert blinks up at him confused. 

“Chase?” 

Ah hell, he wasn’t firing on all engines, there was no use trying to get anything out of him at the moment. He sighs heavily through his nose, changing gears. 

“Yeah kid. I’m here.” 

“Don’ feel too good.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. You in any pain?” 

Robert hums a negative, twisting his fingers into the sheets in thought. “S’just hot, ‘nd…spinny.” 

“Spinny huh? You dizzy?” Chase reaches down, planting a wide palm on his forehead, feeling something tighten in his chest when Robert leans into it, closing his eyes. He’s way too warm. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well then, try and get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” 

It doesn’t look like he needed much encouraging, not even bothering to respond before his breathing evens out, fingers curling loosely over the sheets as he drifts off. 

The last thing that Blonde Blazer had expected to find when she returns to the office that morning was the entirety of the Z-team assembled in the conference room, Sonar at the head of the table messing with something on the display of the smart-board that she didn’t even know they had. 

She hadn’t slept well the night before, not that anyone could tell with her augmented state. The first thing she had done when she got in was to stop into medical, peaking into Robert’s room and choosing to speak with Chalice outside of the door when she spots Chase slouched over the side of the bed. 

The doctor assured her flatly that there hadn’t been any significant changes, his fever remaining fairly consistent, and though it was said that no news was good news, she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to take a turn for the worse. 

“-found out that he was paying into a membership there. It can’t be a coincidence.” 

“What are you guys doing?” God she sounded like her mom. 

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Prism shoots back, gesturing at the board from the back of the plastic chair she’s straddling. 

Blazer doesn’t take her bait, taking a second to actually examine the presentation. It’s shockingly well put together, a spiderweb chart with clear points and sources. 

“A really good job actually…did you guys do all of this?” 

“Well t’wasn’t my mudder, bless her soul.” Punch-up quips, earning a swift smack from Coupé. He laughs, rubbing his shoulder. 

“Turns out the drugs haven’t completely fried Sonar’s brain yet.” 

“Hey…” 

Blazer politely reroutes the conversation, “So what have you got?” 

Sonar puffs out his chest, straitening his lapels. “I’m so glad out asked. This-” He points to the center of the chart where “Robert” is circled in bold font, “is a compilation of all of Robbie's known movements within the last few days.” 

“Which wasn’t too hard to put together, the guy’s vanilla as fuck.” Malevola looks antsy, one foot bouncing on the ground, the other stretched out in front of her from where she’s slouched in her chair. Prism snickers. 

“From what we can tell; he went to work out that this gym yesterday morning,” Sonar points to another circle on the graph, “Odd choice considering we have one here for free.” 

Blazer doesn’t miss the way Flambae clenches his jaw, looking pointedly at the wall. 

“Now here’s where things get interesting-“ Sonar flips over to another tab, tapping the “play” button on a YouTube video. 

A reporter takes center screen, pressing a hand to the mic in his ear and engaging the camera, it’s obvious that this isn’t the full clip of the broadcast by the way the audio cuts in, 

“Not all heroes wear capes, and if the events of this morning are to be believed: some of them may even wear gym clothes.” 

Blazer blinks in bewilderment, watching as the camera cuts to a drone shot of a parking lot. 

“At approximately 6 am today, a single masked assailant attempted to rob a jewelry store in this otherwise unassuming strip-mall.  And if it weren’t for the actions of one man leaving the gym next door, he may have even taken a life.” 

The scene changes, now focusing on the reporter standing next to a woman keeping a close hold on her child as she’s interviewed, 

“I mean I didn’t even see him at first! I don’t know what would have happened if he wasn’t there.” 

A low to the ground shot, highlighting bullet casings on the cement as the reporter narrates, 

“26 year old Charlotte Mays could never have imagined that this would be the way that she and her daughter Alicia would start their day” 

“He was like some kind of guardian angel; the way he got us to safety. I know we see heroes every day, we just kind of forget that they’re people too.” 

“We made it out okay, but he was injured I think. It looked like he was bleeding but he left before I could say anything,” She turns to directly address the camera, “Please, if you know who this is- just make sure he’s okay.” 

Then the clip ends, the white play button sitting in the center of the shaded display surrounded by random thumbnails to other clickbait videos. 

Blonde Blazer groans, messaging her forehead with her fingertips to fend off an oncoming tension headache. 

“I think you’re right. And if that’s the case, then I have so many other questions. But it’s a good place to start.” 

“Prism, you’re good with words. I need you to see if you can get any information out of the suspect, I’ll get you access.” 

The would-be idol leans back with a smirk, flipping open a compact mirror to check her makeup, “Consider that asshole dazzled.” 

“I need someone to investigate the jewelry store, maybe the police missed some casings. I’d prefer it if we could avoid some red tape and collect our own evidence.” 

Visi materializes at the back of the room from where she’s leaning against a wall, raising a hand to volunteer. Blazer nods, then looks back to Sonar, “Can you go with her? The more eyes we have on the ground, the better.” 

“Sure thing.” 

“Okay then it’s settled. I need the rest of you back on patrol.”

She’s met with a chorus of protests, which she halts with a stern glare. 

“Look, I know you guys want to help, but there isn’t much else we can do right now. Robert would want you to be out there.” 

“In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can’t get a hold of the security feed. They just might be in network…” 

Chapter Text

Beef hated this. 

Well... hate was a strong word for a dog that was made up of marshmallows and sunshine. 

Beef felt for this the same way he felt about the neighbor’s cat that would jump down onto the balcony to taunt him. He felt just as helpless here…and a lot more sad. 

He didn’t like seeing his person like this, and the worst part was that this kind of stuff seemed to happen a lot. To the point where if his person was bleeding but still moving and talking he was happy. 

But this…this wasn’t happy. It wasn’t sleep either, Beef knew sleep. Splayed out in a warm puddle of sunlight or snug by his person’s side, sometimes even held close to his chest when an extra cuddle was required. 

Nothing about this was restful. It smelled funny here, and his person was way too warm to snuggle up against like he wanted to. So here he was, curled up by his feet, watching him toss and turn from where he’s resting his head on his paws. 

Beef huffs out a little sigh then yawns. The kind old man had left a while ago, giving him instructions to keep watch and not to get into any trouble. As if he was going to do anything else when his person looked so…wrong. No. He was going to be the best boy. 

So when his person starts to make distressed noises, Beef is at attention. He jumps back with a yelp when Robert kicks out and the metallic scent of blood fills the air. He can’t tell where it’s coming from, but he knows, just like he did by the computer, that it meant trouble. 

He needed to go get help. 

Beef whines, runs a short circle on the bed, then leaps off and onto the cold tile before shooting for the door and running head long into the glass. He bounces off, stunned for a moment, watching the doors slowly slide open. He gets backs up, shakes it off and bounds out and into the hall. 

“Get up.” 

Robert looks up at his dad as Chase pulls him in close. His heart is beating out of his chest and his ear is burning, but his dad only seems concerned for a couple of seconds before he stands, looking down at him with a disapproving frown. 

He knew what it meant, that it was his own fault for messing with the suit, but it still stung. More than the physical pain. 

“Dad, I-“ 

Beef is barking. Why was Beef here? 

Robert opens his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. Wherever he was, he wasn’t in the shed any more. It was just a dream of an unpleasant memory. This place had the distinctly sterile smell that accompanied a medical facility, so he was in a hospital…again. 

There’s a hollow thunk to his left and he turns just in time to catch sight of Beef running out of the room. Robert struggles up, trying to call after him but doubling over when the sudden movement triggers a deep ache in his side. He clutches at it, catches sight of blood seeping through his hospital gown and ignores it. It didn't matter.

He needed to get Beef, couldn’t let anything happen to him.


Robert swings his legs over the right side of the bed, staggering and catching himself on the mattress before pulling himself up with the support of his IV pole. He considers it for a moment, grits his teeth and pulls the needles out of his arm. 

He clutches it close to his chest to stem the bleeding, then stumbles out into the hall. Beef had little legs but he could really move when he wanted to, Robert isn’t sure which way he’d gone. 

“Beef!” He can only imagine how he must look, bleeding from multiple places, wandering down the hall and calling out for 'beef.' Insane would be the first word to come to mind. 

And why was it so hot in here? In his experience, places like this tended to run a little cold. Even in boxers and a flimsy gown he was roasting to the point that he was getting light headed. He finds himself leaning more heavily against the wall the further he goes until the reaches a dead end and suddenly his legs refuse to cooperate. He drops hard to his knees, grunting at the impact, then crawls forward until he’s sitting in a corner so that his back isn't exposed. 

“Beef, where’d you go?” He’d take some time to close his eyes and make the world stop shifting around him, then he’d get up and continue his search. 

Being a superhero was tiring. A never ending loop of fights and media appearances. 

Sometimes Phenomaman regretted quitting his job at the Nordstrom Rack because at least there he had a consistent schedule. Well, as consistent as retail could be. But he was very solidly delegated to a 40 hour work week, sometimes less after the holidays when the managers would bring all the workers down to their minimums to get bonuses. He never had to spend 6 straight hours fighting a giant ocean monster, though some of the older shoppers could match it in temperament. 

So here he is, trudging back his new SDN branch some time close to midnight, salt water making his suit cling to him uncomfortably and making him itchy. This wasn’t unusual, so he was ready with a spare set of clothing in his locker and he could grab a shower before he filed his report. The downside was that now he had too much time to think and the soap and water could do little to wash away the anguish of his failed relationship. One could argue that he actually came out looking worse for it, even dry and in civilian clothes, grey sweats and hoodie combo making him look more like a PE teacher one step away from taking leap off a bridge. He felt like it too. 

It’s true that a distraction would be welcomed, but having Robert’s dog barreling towards him full tilt was not the type he had in mind. The dog skids to a stop, tripping over his front paws and into a somersault that he rolls out of before rounding back to bark at his feet. 

“Why hello there...Beef?” He checks the tag on the dog’s collar, then pats him on the head, “You seem to be in distress. May I offer some assistance?” 

The dog barks again, then bites down on his sweats and starts tugging at him. 

“You wish for me to follow you?” He is released and Beef runs forward, turning expectantly when he doesn’t immediately move. Phenomaman nods down at him and keeps step, following him until they are down in the medical wing. While he may be a bit dense, he isn’t so stupid to think that this didn’t involve Robert in some way, which is further proven when he spots the dispatcher outside of his room and slumped in a corner at the end of the hall. 

Beef yelps and rushes over, climbing into his lap and standing with his paws against his chest to lick at his face. Robert stirs and Phenomaman catches sight of the blood on his side when he lifts an arm to hug his dog. 

“Beef, there you are buddy..” 

Phenomaman comes to stand over him, clearing his throat awkwardly to announce his presence. 

“Robert, I have followed your sausage dog here and it seems that you are in some distress. I have come to assist.” 

It takes Robert a moment to focus on him, lifting his head and squinting in the dark before his eyes widen and his mouth drops open, working for a moment before he manages to squeeze out an uncertain “Dad?” 

“I am not-“ But he stops, something about the way Robert is looking at him, an odd mix of tired disbelief and hope- makes him reconsider, “I mean, yes…son?” 

The dispatcher doesn’t seem to catch his slip up, staring at him as though he might disappear. He sighs, frowns, and leans back covering his eyes with a blood covered forearm. 

“S’gotta be a dream right? I’ve wanted to talk to you so bad that I’m dreaming you up again.” 

“Do you believe that this is a dream?” 

Roberts laughs dryly from under his arm, “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to feel like shit in your dreams…but maybe.” 

He lowers his arm to hold Beef more securely, leaving a steak of blood on his cheek. Beef pushes up to lick it away, tail wagging as Robert smiles down at him. He curls his fingers to scratch his back affectionately before remembering that he has company, eyes flicking up to him before settling on a point somewhere on the ground. 

“Dad…I-uh, I know you probably don’t want to see me- the way I screwed up… I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me for it. Just- I’m sorry.” 

“I tried so hard to keep it going- to be the man you wanted me to be… I actually wanted to be just like you, did you know that?” 

Robert sits up and leans forward, grimacing as he pulls his legs up and it aggravates his wound. He doesn’t look up, keeping his attention on Beef. 

“Then you died and I realized that I had no idea what I was doing. My whole life became the suit- and I was ready to die in there too. But would it have really mattered anyways?  I didn’t even come close to avenging you; how fucked up is that?” 

“I just- I felt so lost. Who was I if I wasn’t Mechaman?” 

Phenomaman feels the pieces fall into place at the admission, gaping silently as Robert continues to lay his heart bare, 

 “Nothing really mattered anymore. If it weren’t for Beef,” He pauses to ruffle the fur on his dog’s head, “-and Chase, I think I might have….“ His voice cracks and he trails off, gaze sliding back to the tiles, absently petting Beef as he takes a moment to breathe. 

“I know this isn’t what you wanted but I think I’ve found my purpose. The Z-team, my team. They’re a bunch of assholes but they’re trying and it makes me want to try too- even if I never set foot in that suit again. Dad…I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be. I’m sorry that I was the mistake.” Robert squeezes his eyes shut, leaning his forehead against the wall and pulling his knees in closer, careful not to hurt Beef in the process. The blood on his side is concerning. 

Phenomaman frowns, lowering himself to one knee and grasping at Robert’s shoulder. 

“I think that it is important that you know that I am proud of you.” 

Robert blinks up at him, uncurling slightly. 

“I believe what you are doing, everything that you have done, that is what makes you a hero; not your suit. You have a genuine heart.”

“I…” Robert places a hand over his, gritting his teeth and looking away, "really?" 

He sounds so small, so uncertain. 

“I am sure.” 

Robert sets Beef down to wrap him in a tight hug, hands balling in his hood as he buries his face in his shoulder. He doesn’t speak, but the way he’s trembling speaks volumes. Phenomaman carefully returns the hug, giving him a gentle pat on the back. 

Robert’s temperature far exceeds what should be normal for a human, and he’s lost more blood-so it comes as no surprise when the dispatcher passes out against him. Phenomaman lowers him, checking to make sure that he hadn’t done too much damage; grateful when it appears that he had only pulled a few stitches. He lifts him under his shoulders and knees and carries him back to his room with Beef trailing close behind. 

“He what?” 

Blazer is reviewing the transcript from Prism’s interrogation the day before when Chalice appears at her door. He leans against the frame, arms crossed and a sharp look in his eyes. 

“Made himself worse. Got out of bed in the middle of the night, managed to reopen his wound and ripped out his IV.” He looks more annoyed about the IV than the rest of the list, “-which of course did him no favors. His fever is through the roof- any higher and we might need to take more drastic measures to keep him from cooking himself alive.” 

“..shit. Do we know what happened?” Blazer abandons the papers, standing to meet him at the door. 

“Not as such. If it weren’t for his dog he’d probably be even worse off. It was nothing but dumb luck that he managed to find someone to help. The nurse on duty, apparently, decided it was a good time for a nap. She has been reassigned.” 

“Who did he find? I can’t think of anyone else that should be been in the building that late.” 

“He found me.”

Phenomaman enters in behind Chalice, bags under his eyes somehow worse than usual. 

“Oh. Hey.” She gives him a short awkward wave.

 Her ex nods curtly in acknowledgment. “Hello.” 

“So…did he say anything to you?” 

“Well, I am a father now.” 

“What?" 

“I believe he was delirious, I must have looked as his father did when he was alive.” 

“…and he mistook you for him.”

“Yes.” 

Blazer frowns, then realizes what that conversation could have entailed. She whips her head up to look into his eyes questioningly. He nods once, then puts a placating hand on her shoulder. 

“You have my assurance that I will keep his identity safe. There are those that would wish to cause him harm if they were aware.” 

She scans his expression closely, not that she really had any doubt. Phenomaman was a little odd, but he was a good person. It’s a small weight off of her shoulders. 

“Thank you.” 

“It is no problem.” 

Chalice coughs from the doorway catching their attention. 

“Well that’s all well and good, but we still have a problem: We’re short staffed until we can transfer in a new nurse. If you could provide someone to keep an eye on him at night that would be a great help.” 

Blazer thinks for a moment, then smiles. “We’ve got you covered.” 

—

“-I want each of you to choose a day. I’ll let you decide which, but we need someone with him just in case.” 

“So you chose all of us?” Coupé flicks one of her blades between her fingers, obviously itching for some kind of violent conflict.

“Is that a problem?” 

There’s a long silence in the room, but no one objects, even Prism who looks horribly inconvenienced, keeps her thoughts to herself. 

“…how bad is it?” Malevola asks hesitantly. 

“Pretty bad. Chalice is keeping a close eye on him but his fever is concerning.” 

The villains look back at her with varying levels of concern, and she’s struck by the sheer difference Robert had made in them in just a few short weeks. 

“Will I fit in the door?” Golem rumbles, partially raising his hand. 

“You should be fine, if not you can stand guard outside.” 

This seems to satisfy the construct, who lowers his hand back down nodding, “Cool.” 

“Now that that’s settled, let’s review the information we gathered yesterday. Prism, I didn’t get to finish reading through your transcripts- would you mind giving us a quick summary?” 

“Yeah, but you ain’t gonna like it. Bitch didn’t know a damn thing.” She flicks a piece of hair out of her face and huffs, “Apparently he had nicked both the gun and the damn bullets from some asshole a few months ago. Trouble is that he can’t remember who, and no amount of encouragement could get him to either.”  

“Okay, not ideal but it’s something. What about the bullets?” 

“We found one, turned it in last night.” Visi vaguely gestures, impatient and concerned. She doesn’t look like she had slept well. 

“She got me amped up and made me lift every car in the parking lot...you have no idea how bad my arms hurt right now.” Sonar rolls a shoulder, deeply messaging the joint. 

Blazer makes a face, “Amped up? You know what? No. I don’t want to know.” 

“Until we get more information from the lab we have nothing to go off of, though I want to look and see if we can’t figure out who was robbed. With any luck someone filed a report for a missing gun. I know I’ve asked a lot of you already but Sonar would you mind…?” 

He makes a show of a long put-upon sigh, “Fineeee. While I’m at it I might as well take first watch, I work best at night anyways.” 

“Oh, okay. Perfect then, thank you." Sonar just waves her off from over his shoulder, leaving the room to find an open computer. 

"We got the recordings from the gym and the jewelry store so I’m going to go and review them. Chase will be in charge of your dispatches today, so please be good.”

She hears them arguing over who gets the next night on her way out, and tactfully keeps her mouth shut. 

Chapter Text

This thief really had no idea what he was doing. 

Blonde Blazer watches as he fumbles with a torch, setting his sleeve on fire as he melts away the security bars in front of the jewelry store. At first he doesn’t even notice, not until the entire cuff of his jacket in flames. He’s almost through the bars at that point, and seems to have at least some survival instincts because he immediately drops the torch to the ground to frantically pat the fire out. Sleeve still smoking he plants a foot and kicks at the bars, stepping back as they come loose and topple to the ground. He readjusts the gun strapped the his back and slams the butt into the exposed window, then gingerly steps through the jagged opening. 

Blazer switches over to the interior camera feed, just in time to watch the villain confronting the only employee in the store. Obviously he wasn’t expecting anyone inside when the store was closed and immediately starts shooting. The employee ducks under the hail of bullets, then the cameras cut out as one takes out the power. There’s a span of about a minute and a half before the camera comes back online, likely through a backup generator. Blazer is relieved to see that the employee is still alive and hiding. The robber doesn’t notice, strolling toward the exit with a partially filled burlap sack over one shoulder. He must have grabbed what he'd come for, he’s doesn’t even stop to steal anything else. 

She switches back to the feed outside, more engaged when she spots Robert leaned against the building near the broken window. The feed is low-quality but it’s definitely him, though she squints at the screen when she spots the bright pink object he’s absently swinging at his side. Was that a dumbbell? And an offensively colored one at that.

 Blazer doesn’t get much time to think more about it before the robber steps out. The camera has a limited view so she doesn’t see what Robert does, but the news story fills in those blanks. She watches as Robert drops the weight and lunges forward and out of frame, the thief panics and starts shooting again, this time until his clip is empty. He doesn’t seem familiar with the weapon because he struggles to find the release, and that’s when Robert pops back into view and she can already see the blood blooming through the cloth of his hoodie. She gasps, leans forward to get closer to the monitor and pauses the video. 

“You’re kidding me.” She drops her head onto her palm and breathes in, closing her eyes in frustration. “Robert.” She groans, taking on a tone a little too close to an exasperated mother. 

Throughout the rest of the video she makes a point to watch him closely, but not once does he look down or react to the wound on his side- even as he struggles with the man on the ground. There was no way. That was an honest to god bullet hole in his side and he hadn’t even noticed?

“Oh we are so going to have a talk after this is all over.” 

“You saw it too huh? Little prick didn’t even notice.” Chase walks in to her office, offering her a mug of coffee as he sips at his own. She gladly accepts.  

“Yeah. I still can’t really believe it. I’ve seen other heroes go down for far less- It’s really concerning actually.” 

Chase takes another sip of his coffee, humming and agreement. 

“How’s he doing?” Blazer hasn’t really had time to check on him, it’s giving her anxiety. 

“Bad. Just came back up actually. Spent my lunch down there and fed Beef while I was at it. He was out of it the entire time. They’re going to start applying ice packs here soon, compresses aren’t doing shit.” The ex-hero tightens his grip on his mug, then takes a long swig. Blazer catches a whiff of something alcoholic mixed into the coffee. "I've decided I'm gonna take Beef home with me tonight."

There’s a knock on the open door, and both Chase and Blazer look up as Sonar steps in. 

“Hey so we came up with a plan for tonight.” 

“Tonight? I thought you were staying with him?” 

“Well yeah, but we decided it would be better if we all watched him in shifts.” 

Chase laughs over his coffee. “So none of you could agree on a day and decided on a compromise.” He turns to look at Blazer, “These assholes have been arguing about it on the comms all morning. It was a bitch and a half to get them to do any work. Only one that didn’t have anything to say was Flambae, in fact he’s been suspiciously quiet.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s super upset about the whole wound-burning thing. He got trashed last night and wouldn’t shut up about it. Just don’t tell him I told you- it took me months to grow my fur back the last time I pissed him off.” 

Blazer nods, seeing no reason to push any buttons- but Chase doesn’t. She can almost see him mentally dropping it into a file labeled “blackmail” in thick sharpie. 

8pm- First watch: Sonar 

“Hey man, I brought you something.” He gingerly places his present on the bedside table next to a pitcher of water. The stapler sticks out like a sore thumb, metallic blue coating contrasting heavily with the bright red plastic bow on top. “Its-uh, to say sorry for accusing you of stealing mine. I’m sure yours is nice and all, but this thing will outlive your children. It’s quality.” 

He nervously tugs on the string of his Harvard hoodie. They had all been warned ahead of time that it wasn’t likely Robert would be conscious, but he had still been hopeful. By how miserable he looks; maybe too hopeful. He checks the wet compress on his forehead and hisses. “Jesus you’re actually cooking!” The rag was still wet but already above room temperature. “Shit, ice...ice…ice-ah!” He spots a mini fridge in the corner of the room and pops it open. It turns out to be a freezer and it’s packed. The staff had been ready for this. 

“Don’t worry Robbie, we’ve got you.” He grabs one of the bags, then places it directly over the cloth. He knows better than to put it against his skin, and makes a mental note to tell the others not to either. 

Task accomplished, he settles in to the chair by the bed and pops open his personal laptop. He’d been granted access to police reports from precincts within 20 miles of their location, and trying to comb through it all had been hell on earth. In fact, after about 30 minutes he’d gotten so fed up with it that he’d written a program to search through each file. The problem was that crime and “gun” went together in LA like peanut butter and jelly, even more so when you added in “theft’”. It still left him with an ungodly amount of work. It’s a Hail Mary throw- but he decides to try and search the gun’s registration number. 

The cursor starts spinning and then seems to be locked into a never-ending cycle. Sonar watches it spin for a moment, sighs, and shimmies back in his seat to stretch. “Man this stuff is never as cool as it looks in the movies.”  

“Issat… a stapler?” 

Sonar jumps so hard he nearly drops his laptop. “Oh shit?!” He quickly sets it to the side and stands to lean over the bed. “Hey Bobby! Buddy how you doing?” 

Robert is still looking at the stapler, but turns his head with some effort when Sonar speaks, ice pack blessedly still in place. 

“…bat?” 

 Oh. He was out-of-it out-of-it. 

“Yeah bud.” He can’t help the disappointment that seeps into his tone. “Do you-“ PING! 

The computer had loaded the results. 

“Hold on just a sec, kay?” 

Robert hums tiredly, and closes his eyes. 

A single pop-up is flashing on the center of the screen listing “2 results” and the affiliated links below. Sonar snatches up the laptop and sits back down. He clicks the first link, and as expected- it pulls up the police report from the Jewelry Store. He closes out of it, then tries the second link. This one is for a home burglary. The name of the filer sounds vaguely familiar but there is no photo attached for identification-  just photos of the house and random pieces of evidence. In all the guy had lost the gun, a pack of bullets, a gold watch, and the safe it was all in. It seemed the robber hadn’t bothered actually opening it at the scene, opting instead to take the whole damn unit with him. He was efficient at least. 

His next task is to find the filer of the report, one Jerry Stevens. What a boring ass name. He opens another tab, accessing the SDN and Police criminal database, but it yields no results. He thinks for a moment, then decides just to google the name and “LA” in the hopes of finding a Facebook page or something. Instead the page goes blank, the iconic 404 t-Rex appearing on the page. 

What? 

Sonar tries to reload the page, only to be met with the same error. There was no way such a generic search would yield no results. Maybe there was some kind of issue with the network? He goes back and tries a very basic search: “Boobs” The results immediately pop on screen in full glory. Not a network issue. 

“Sorry Robert, gonna have to- oh.” He’s already passed out again. 

God this whole situation was so shitty. 

9pm- Second Watch: Coupé

“Though it is a primary belief in most companies that profit is to be held above anything else, it is important to remember that the people matter. As in many situations, the expression ‘Catching more flies with honey’ applies here too.” Coupé grimaces, then flips the book over to examine the cover. ‘Outcome Over Output: A Managers Guide to Results Based Leadership’ titled in bold red and black font. 

“You really need to get some better reading material…” She flips the book closed and sets in on the ground next to her chair, then picks up a different book. “Lucky for you, I’ve brought my own.” 

But first.. 

She sets the book on her chair and stands, lifting the cold cloth on Robert’s head, sliding a hand underneath and frowning. Even with the ice he’s still too hot. 

This was probably the worst part about this job; she wasn’t made for affection or healing. In fact, she was very firmly on the opposite side of the equation. 

Coupé pulls her hand back and shakes off the heat, then lifts the ice pack and flips the cloth so it’s cold-side down; but even that doesn’t seem like it’s enough. Unfortunately it’s all that she can think to do. 

She sits back down, placing the book in her lap and just watches him for a moment, counting each breath as she collects her thoughts. 

“I’m not really the emotional type, so I’m only going to say this once,” Even saying that much out loud has her cheeks burning, but she forces herself to continue, “What you did for me- for Sonar? That meant a lot. I thought this job was just a paycheck but then with you…It was different. Better. You gave us a chance, you didn’t have to.” 

She crosses her ankles and leans back in her chair looking away, “Thank you...for everything.” 

The lack of response isn’t surprising but it does sting a bit. It felt cowardly to make an admission like she was in this situation. 

“Y’r voice s'nice.” 

If she hadn’t been blushing already she was now. The embarrassment is almost overwhelming. 

"How long have you been awake?" 

Robert doesn’t even open his eyes, “C’n you keep talk’n? S’really nice…” 

“God, you’re so needy. Fine.” She picks the book up from her lap, cheeks still burning, and chooses a random page, 

"In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun."

Chapter Text

10pm- Third Watch: Punch-up 

  “Tha thing is, I’m no good at jus sittin’ round…” Punch-up paces near the foot of Robert’s bed, absently tossing a ball around with one hand.  “Ever since I was a babe I’ve been getting into shite.” 

“Coop says I should get a hobby, but I don’t really see myself as tha knittin’ type.” He chooses a point on the wall and lobs the ball at it, expertly catching it on the rebound. “Maybe darts though? Does that count as a hobby?” He throws the ball again and it ricochets a little too far to the right, flying back over his shoulder and rolling under Robert’s bed. “Eh, maybe not…” 

The ball comes to a rest just under the head of the bed, and Punch considers just leaving it there for a moment, but it’s the only source of entertainment he has. He grumbles and drops down to squeeze underneath, accidentally hitting one of the metal supports on the way out and jarring the bed. He hears Robert inhale quickly and deeply, the rustling of sheets indicating that he’s sat up, and he quickly scrambles back out to intervene. 

The sudden moment had done him no favors, barely supporting himself on a shaking elbow as he scans around the room; Robert looks like he’s one stiff breeze away from dropping.  Punch-up quickly pulls a chair up to the side of the bed to stand on, hopping up and planting a knee on the bed for better support as he reaches out. “Woah there Lad!” 

Robert flinches back with gritted teeth, then stops and actually seems to see him. “Punch?” He tries to lean forward and sit up more fully but his arm gives way, nearly toppling onto his side before Punch-up catches him by the elbow. He has to resist the urge to pull away from the heat under his fingers. 

“Th’ one and only.” He readjusts his grip, helping Robert back into a sitting position. “Lay back down an I’ll getcha somethin’ to help make ya feel better.” 

The younger man stares at the hand on his elbow for a moment then looks back up at him, “Mm, yeah. S’probably-“ He tries to take his own weight and winces, gasping as he involuntarily doubles over gripping at his side. Punch curses and lunges forward, letting Robert’s head drop onto his shoulder to help stabilize him. He lets the dispatcher rest there while he pulls up the side of his gown to inspect his wound, making a hard effort to be as gentle as possible. He’s rewarded with the sight of blessedly clean bandages.  

“Ah, thank Jesus.” Sighing in relief he lets the gown drop back down, reaching up to give Robert a pat on the shoulder. “You okay?” 

Robert grumbles a “No.” against his shoulder and Punch-up laughs, switching from a pat to a reassuring swipe of his hand over his upper back. “No surprise there.” He gives one last pat, “Now let’s get you back down, Coupé’ll have my head if anything happens to you.” 

Once Robert’s is settled back under the sheets with a new ice pack, Punch hops onto the chair. He leans back and plants the heels of his shoes on the bed, making himself comfortable. He’s not even sure if Robert is even awake or not but he’s also never met a silence he couldn’t fill,

 “Have I ever told you about how Coop and I met?” 

11pm- Fourth Watch: Prism 

If boredom had a look it would be the grey walls of this hospital room. Prism has already somehow scrolled herself in a circle on TikTok, cutting herself off when she comes across the same GRWM ad for a third time in a row. She sighs and pockets her phone, picking a loose piece of lint off of her navy colored capri-sweats and leaning forward into her palms to watch Robert sleep. 

“The fuck is it about you that people like so much?”  

By all definitions he was average. Brown hair and eyes, not tall or short, just…normal. But maybe that was the key- he was surrounded by so many unique faces and colors that it actually made him stand out. What made it that much more wild was that she was pretty sure she knew who he was, and despite that infamy and tragedy, he was still so human. 

Of course she didn’t have any way to prove it, but she’d be willing to put money down. She’d seen those same eyes, dull and tired, staring out into a crowd of reporters as he announced the destruction of his suit. And if it weren’t for his eyes; his voice was a dead giveaway. 

Robert was Mechaman. It just made so much sense. 

She’d considered dropping that information to the rest of the team and stirring the pot, but after the first week she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As much as she’d disliked him initially, he had grown on her the more he had worked to get to know them all. He was the only dispatcher they’d been assigned that never acted like they were doomed to failure. 

For the first time in a long time, it felt good to be good. All of her successes had increased her public exposure too, her follower count was on a steady increasing trend- she couldn’t argue with the results. 

The silence in the room is broken when Robert shifts, letting out a short groan that ends with a pained gasp. He tosses his head to one side, white knuckling the sheets over his chest. Prism stands, adjusting her sweater before she walks to the side of the bed. 

“Hey there boo, you good?” But now that she’s up close she can see that he’s still asleep, eyes firmly shut in the throes of what looks like some kind of nightmare. Prism frowns, placing a hand on his cheek and grimacing at the hot damp skin under her manicured fingers. She takes the ice pack up from his pillow and wraps it in a washcloth before holding against the side of his neck. Robert recoils from the cold and Prism shushes him, brushing back his bangs before replacing the ice pack. 

“It might not look like it Roberto, but this ain’t my first rodeo.” She stands by to make sure he doesn’t knock the compress off again, then flops back into her chair and pulls out her phone. “Mama did her best but she couldn’t always be there. I was the oldest, so I had to step in every once in a while.” 

For the next half hour she switches between playing on her phone and quietly singing choruses from some of her favorite songs.

It’s definitely not because Robert had visibly relaxed the first time she’d done it, that was just a bonus. 

12am - Fifth Watch: Golem 

For the first time in his existence, Golem is worried about his size.

It had only ever really been an issue when the others wanted to go out for drinks, but he was content with waiting outside. They could be loud sometimes and having some time to just sit and listen to music was welcome. He only felt a little left out. 

Now he was standing outside the little room with the little dispatcher, and he doesn’t want to just stand guard outside. Maybe because he was a lot more grounded than people were, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Robert all alone when he was so sick. Not that he could do much in the first place; but even little things meant a lot. 

Golem steps inside, crossing the room to grab a pack of ice from the freezer to insulate and have on hand if needed. He chooses a spot on the floor next to the bed to sit and sets a mini speaker down beside him, then connects the bluetooth. He lowers the volume and hits play, smiling when the narration filters out reading poems from an anthology he’d discovered recently. 

Once the first segment ends, Golem turns to the sleeping man. 

“I wanna thank you- for never treating me like an object. It’s really cool of you.” 

And just like that the audio starts back up and the moment is over. 

1am- Sixth Watch: Malevola 

Early mornings were made for baggy tee-shirts, shorts and doing weird shit. 

So here Maleovla was at 1am- wearing an oversized Queen shirt and leaning closely over a feverish man to examine his bandaged arm. 

After Robert had ripped out his IV, they’d done a great job of patching him up, even ensuring that the next needles were more securely taped down on his other arm. She removes the bandages, slowly working them away from his skin where the blood had dried, then 'tsks' at the bruises she uncovers. 

“Self-destructive much?” She turns his wrist, making sure she doesn’t miss any hidden hurts, then sets his arm down and mumbles under her breath before running one had over the surface of his forearm from wrist to elbow. It reveals a path of smooth undamaged skin in its wake. 

“I know it’s not much but I figured it couldn’t hurt. I can’t do anything for your side though, sorry.” 

She had really wanted to heal it, even going to far as to portal herself into the operation room when he’d first been brought in. The doctor had nearly killed her on the spot, dragged her out of the room and only let her back in after she had been scrubbed up. No matter how hard she’d tried though, the wound refused to heal for her. 

Then the skin on his arm begins to bruise again. 

“No fucking way!” She can only watch as the holes near his wrist open back up, accompanied by a small trickle of blood. She turns to a cabinet nearby and snatches out a wad of gauze, then re-wraps his arm. 

“What this fuck is going on here?” Malevola sits down, resting her forehead in her hands, “This doesn’t make any sense…” 

“S’okay…” Robert mumbles, and Maveola jumps and sits up straight. She can tell he’s barely conscious, fighting to keep his eyes open as he looks at her. “You tried.” 

It’s meant to reassure her, but somehow it makes her feel worse. She has to swallow past a lump in her throat. 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t good enough…” 

“But you still tried…” She can’t get another word in before he’s asleep again and the lump in her throat feels more solid. He looks so tired, so completely wrung out. 

How much time did they have left? 

2am- Seventh Watch: Flambae 

He can’t bring himself to go inside. 

Every time he looks at Robert he sees those wide brown eyes, full of fear. It didn’t fit- didn’t make any sense. 

After all of the people he’d hurt, why was this one upsetting him so much?  

So he refuses to dwell on it, taking a post outside the sliding doors and occasionally looking back over his shoulder to ensure that the guy hadn’t killed himself somehow. 

What help could he be anyways? The last thing Robert needed right now was heat. 

Flambae makes an attempt to distract himself with his phone, but he finds that he can’t concentrate on anything so he growls and puts it away- settling for examining the nurse’s station across the hall. There’s a box on the surface, not very full but he can see a framed photo of an older woman smiling with a child peaking over the side of the cardboard. He can only see a part of her face because it’s obscured by the yellowing leaf of a small monstera plant. 

When he looks up he’s surprised to find the same woman exiting the elevator at the end of the hallway. Her smile is eerily similar to the one in the photo and she waves a badge at him as she approaches. 

“I’m here for my shift dear.” She pulls her phone from her scrubs pocket and laughs nervously, “Or I will be here at 2:30. No worries, I’ll just get settled in and make my rounds.” 

“Uh- yeah. Sure lady.”  Flambae check his own phone, confused. The lock screen reads 2:21am, but he was under the impression that there wouldn’t be a nurse in the building until around 5 when the rest of the morning people were due to come in. He nearly drops the device when Sonar’s face pops on screen and the batman theme starts blasting through the speakers. 

“Shit!” He swipes to answer, “What the fuck bat-boy!? It’s 2-o’-clock in the fucking morning!” 

The nurse brushes past him and he nods at her as she enters Robert's room.

Sonar wastes no time, voice frantic, 

“You think I don’t know that!? Shit! Just-just listen! I found the guy that owned the gun! You need to get Robert out of there right now!"

“The fuck do you mean?!” 

“The guy is a lab tech, he works at SDN-!” 

Flambae drops his phone and whips around- 

Fire, heat, an explosion. 

Chapter Text

The nurse had Robert by the neck. The nurse whose skin was slowly morphing, figure growing in size and volume until a humanoid chameleon was standing in her place. Robert struggles against it, trying in vain to scratch at the scaly hands, kicking out and finding no purchase.  He’s too weak. He puts in one last attempt, digging his nails in with gritted teeth. Energy spent, his grip loosens and his hands slide away, body falling limp. 

Flambae drops his phone, flames erupting over his body in an echo of the red hot rage the washes over him. He doesn’t think, flying in and tackling the creature through the wall with so much force that it knocks Robert out of his grasp. The ex-villain glances back, assured that he had dropped back to the bed before driving a flaming fist into the chameleon’s face. Neither of them realize they’ve landed next to a store of oxygen tanks until the chameleon dodges and Flambae drives his fist straight into one of the containers. The explosion is deafening, knocking Flambae back through the wall and into the hospital room, extinguishing his flames as the momentum has him rolling across the tile stunned. The chameleon just shakes off the impact, brushing rubble and drywall off his shoulder before pulling a pistol from his belt. 

“Alright fire-fucker, it’s your turn.” The assassin raises the gun and aims and Flambae lifts himself up on his elbows just as the hybrid begins to squeeze the trigger. 

Three things happen in quick succession: 

Robert lunges in front of him, grabbing him around the shoulders and sending them both skidding out of the line of fire. 

A concentrated jet-stream of water blasts the criminal off of his feet causing the shot to go wide. 

Then Sonar swoops in, screeching, talons extended as he grabs the criminal and drags him harshly against the ground and into the far wall. 

Flambae doesn’t have time to think before Robert is collapsing against him. “Shit! The fuck do you think you’re doing?” He scrambles to catch him when he slumps to the ground, blood once again blooming from his side. “Damnit!” 

He’s shocked to find Robert still conscious, if only just, one hand feebly clutching over his wound, gasping shallowly as he looks at the ceiling, gaze slowly sliding until he’s looking up at him. 

“S-sorry…didn’thnk…jus…moved.” His voice falters, eyes fluttering closed as his chest rises with one final stuttered breath then falls still. 

Panic rips through his veins, flooding as though he was made of ice instead of fire. “Goddamnit! No!”  Flambae lurches forward, dropping his ear to Robert’s chest. 

“Oh-god. What? Is-he, did he? D-dead? Did he-?”  Waterboy is standing over them, knees shaking and hands covering his mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Flambae ignores the boy’s startled yelp and closes his eyes to listen. 

Barely…just barely, he hears the thump of Robert’s heart. He lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, then straightens up, immediately taken aback when he finds Waterboy kneeling in front of them. He looks determined, brows set stubborn and unusually confident. 

“L-let me. I c-,“ He grits his teeth, shaking his head, “I can do this.” 

Unbelievably, Flambae believes him. He gives him a single tight nod before falling back on his haunches to give him space. Waterboy places his hands over Robert’s sternum and begins compressions. 

It’s then that Flambae looks up, only to find that the entire team is there- a whole group of ex-villains and supers with singular focus. No one moves, no one speaks over the sound of Waterboy keeping count. All helpless in a way none of them believed they could be. 

He only realizes that Phenomaman had been missing when he comes flying in with Chalice under his arm. The group parts and the doctor hits the ground running, rushing into the circle and working in tandem with Waterboy until finally, after what feels like hours, Robert drags in a breath. 

It’s quiet, nothing grand. He doesn’t come up coughing or gasping, just a single quick inhale that settles back into short unproductive respirations. 

But it’s enough. 

“Someone clear a path so we can get a gurney in here!” Chalice is experienced, he knows what needs to be done and when. He runs the medical facility with militant precision. 

And he’s not about to fail today. 

How had it come to this? 

Blazer stands outside Robert’s new room, watching through the glass doors as Chase grasps his hand in both of his.  

He’d taken a turn for the worse after the attack, now requiring oxygen on top of his burning fever- his body losing its battle. Chalice had introduced chilled IVs along with the blood transfusions in a long-shot effort to combat it, but there was very little else they could do that wouldn’t potentially kill him. 

There was no way they’d be able to get Chase to leave him now, not that anyone would be willing to try. The same went for Flambae, who was stationed across from the door on guard. He tried to act impassive but he was too tense for that. She couldn’t blame him, she’d been told what had happened shortly after Robert had been whisked away that morning. 

The only good that had come from the chaos was that along with apprehending the shapeshifter; Roy’d had caught their actual suspect. He’d been in the building working late, and had found the other man attempting to dispose of the bullet Visi and Sonar had brought in. He hadn’t put up much of a fight, though she doubts he could have against someone like Roy’d. 

Both Prism and Punch-up were running his interrogation, not that they had given anyone else the option. Blazer had a hunch he’d be eating through a straw when it was all over but had a hard time empathizing. 

Invisigal materializes in the middle of the hallway, startling Flambae who growls and flips her off. She ignores him, sauntering over to Blazer with her hands in her pockets, watching Robert through the glass doors. She stops and stares for a moment, face carefully schooled into a blank expression. 

“How’s he doing?” 

There’s no way to sugar coat it, “Bad. His lungs are giving out and Chalice said he’s in danger of heart failure. His fever is dangerously high and we still don’t know the cause.” She tries to remain neutral but she can’t help the frustration that seeps into her words. 

“That’s actually why I’m here. They got Jerry to talk, apparently he was developing some kind of anti-super weapon.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s supposed to neutralize 'active mutations in the blood' or some shit like that. It was never meant to be used on regular people. The toxin can’t find what it’s supposed to so it’s attacking the closest thing it can instead.” 

“Does Chalice know?” 

“Yeah, I found him first. He was pissed- don’t think I’ve ever seen him move so fast either. He’s in the lab now.” She points a thumb back down the hallway, then leans against the door and crosses her arms. 

Blazer gets a bad feeling, “Was he working for-“ Visi cuts her off, “Shroud?  Dunno, it’s the one thing we couldn’t get out of him.” 

“So it’s likely.” Shit. “We’ll have to keep our guard up. If he’s involved he’s not just going to let this go.” 

“Have Sonar go down to help Chalice, he has some drug knowledge; it might come in handy. I want Golem and Phenomaman to run patrols outside, we can’t have another incident like last night.” 

“Sure. Sooo can I take watch tonight? I’m going to lose my mind if I can’t do something.” 

“Yeah, that would be a huge help. Thank you Visi.” Blonde Blazer pats her on the shoulder, feeling a swell of pride at her willingness to help. It’s touching how relieved she looks, visibly relaxing her shoulders and letting out a little sigh. She smirks and throws up a mock salute. 

“I won’t let you down.” 

The next morning Robert’s fever breaks. 

Chapter Text

 
Hot. 

Why was it so damn hot? 

A kind of heat that surrounded him like a padded straight jacket. 

He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

 It was wrapped too tight, a smoldering cast iron vice around his lungs. 

He wants to fight it, tries so hard to break through the binding; but his body refuses to cooperate. 

He’s stuck in this dark stifling hell. 

Then he hears the voices. Distant, muffled as though through a thick layer of cotton-  but there all the same. 

They bring with them cold touches and blessedly cool air. The heat is still unbearable, but now he knows that he’s not alone. The hands that grasp his own become a tether, the voices a light guiding him ashore. 

But he can feel the tide pulling him away, his desperate hold eroding with each ebb and flow, drawing him closer to its dark boiling depths. 

—

The air is ripped away. 

It drags him to the surface disoriented. Nothing makes sense, shadowed white ceilings littered with red and black splotches that obscure his vision and multiply as his head is jerked roughly to the side. 

Even half dead and burning alive, he recognizes the sinister glow of Shroud’s mask as it looms overhead.

 He tries to growl, tries to move away but the figure pins him against the bed with an iron grip under his jaw. The force pushes the last of the air from his lungs, and he wheezes as he tries to pry the hand off. 

“Well that’s more fight than I predicted you’d have. Impressive. Now- “ Shroud adjusts his grip higher then squeezes, forcing his teeth apart, “Be a good boy and take your medicine.” 

The substance that is spilled into his mouth is sickly sweet, acidic, and sits heavy on his tongue. He tries to spit it out but Shroud covers his mouth before pushing down on his wounded side with the palm of his free hand. The pain is instant, eliciting a gasp that has him involuntarily inhaling and choking on the liquid before he swallows on reflex. When the hand is removed, he curls on his side coughing and spluttering. 

Robert can only lay there, feebly glaring up at the blurring figure above him as an icy sensation creeps through his veins. 

“Do not mistake my actions today for empathy. You are nothing but a pawn, and it is by my will alone that you will be able to continue your meager existence on this earth.” 

Shroud crouches beside the bed so that they are eye-to-eye, then reaches out to grab his face again, leaning in uncomfortably close. 

“You know I never thought you looked much like your father- but I can see it now. That look of fear...” 

The ice in his veins is turning his body numb and he’s getting light headed- his vision tunneling as he struggles to take in a proper breath. Shroud must see it in his eyes because he pats his cheek before wordlessly securing an oxygen mask back over his face. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, I have some loose ends to tie up.” 

The lights of Shroud’s mask blur together, leaving illuminated trails as he stands and turns away. 

Robert isn’t conscious long enough to see him leave. 

——

When Chase returns from walking Beef, Invisigal isn’t standing guard outside the room. 

It sets off alarm bells in the back of his mind, the kind that has the hair on his arms standing on end. He turns and tells Beef to sit, eyeing the opening between the sliding doors and the darkness beyond. The accelerated beeping of the heart monitor has him throwing caution to the wind, busting into the room with no real plan and almost running straight onto Visi.

She takes a quick step back, hands raised in front of her, “Chase! Jesus!” then pivots around him, shouting over her shoulder as she runs out into the hall, “Stay with him! Something happened, I’m getting the damn doctor!” 

Something-? 

Chase is at the side of the bed before he registers his feet moving.  He can’t tell and doesn’t care if he’d activated his power to get there. The confusion comes when nothing seems out of place. 

Not at first. 

He glances up at the monitors, then back down at Robert. He’s laying on his side, heart-rate accelerated, breaths coming in a little quick but besides that… there, a dark smudge near the corner of Robert’s mouth, warped under the plastic of the oxygen mask. For a moment he thinks it may be blood and he panics, dropping to his knees to examine it closer. He slides his fingers under the elastic band to lift it away, then stops mid-motion when his fingers slide over the cool clammy skin underneath. 

“The fuck?” 

Chase pulls back, eyes searching Robert’s slack face as he cups a hand over his the side of his neck, then his forehead. He was drenched in sweat, but it was a cold sweat.

“Kid?” For the first time in days, he feels hope, a spark that lights when Roberts eyebrows knit in response to his touch...but it’s a brief reaction, and just as soon he’s relaxing back into his pillow, breaths finally slowing as Chase rubs a hand over his back. 

“S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”  He’s not even sure if that’s true, but all he sees is that same skinny kid from all those years ago, having cried himself to sleep on the couch, red rimmed eyes and freckles still as prominent then as they are today. 

Beef whines, pawing at his ankle and startling him back to the present. 

“Hey there, I told you to stay put.” But there’s no anger in his voice, just playful scolding. He lifts Beef, cuddling him close before depositing him on the bed just as Chalice walks in, Invisigal directly on his heels. 

“What happened?” He bypasses any pleasantries, examining the numbers on the monitors before turning to the bed and taking one of Robert’s wrists in hand. Chase doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen on contact. 

“A fucking miracle.” 

The doctor hums in thought, clearly skeptical. He smoothly unwinds the bandages on Robert’s forearm, swiping a finger over one of the needle wounds where the blood still beads. He wouldn’t need to test it to tell that it still wasn’t clotting as it should, but perhaps he could glean some other information from it. 

The second the blood touches his tongue he recoils, scrambling to pull a handkerchief from his pocket to spit it out. It’s acrid. 

There was no way this had come about naturally. 

“He was given something.” Chalice growls, spitting into the cloth a second time to rid himself of the chemical aftertaste. He wipes his mouth and pockets the handkerchief, rounding the bed when he hears Chase curse under his breath, tugging at the edge of Robert’s mask to reveal the suspicious black liquid staining the corner of his lips. 

“What the fuck is that-WOAH!” Invisigal has to backpedal when Chase lunges for her, saved by Chalice who catches him by the collar. “What the hell are you doing asshole?!” 

“You were the only one with him! The fuck did you do?!” Chase tries to break out of the doctor’s grasp by violently rolling his shoulder’s but Chalice clamps down harder and jerks him back. 

“Calm down and listen. This isn’t her fault.” Chase finally stops and the taller man releases him, giving him time to straighten up before he calmly explains, 

“She asked me to keep an eye on the hall so she could use the facilities. I was in the middle of my work so I locked it down. Nothing should have happened.” 

“Well something sure as hell did! Locks are for honest people not super-fucking-villains damnit!” 

He rounds on Chalice, finger pointing square at his chest and mouth open to make another point, then freezes when the doctor’s eye flash red. 

“There is a time and place for this, neither are here. We can discuss this later when we can all act like grown adults.” 

Chase puffs up, still clearly enraged, but then deflates murmuring, “fucker…” He paces over to the bed and picks Beef back up, petting him in agitation. 

Even Invisigal keeps her mouth shut, slinking back to hang by the doorway, staring hard at a random point across the room with crossed arms. It was hard not to take it as some kind of silent admission of guilt.

Assured they weren’t going to start anything, Chalice crosses to a cabinet near the bed and retrieves a clean swab. Though it didn’t seem to be doing any damage at the moment, he didn’t want to risk complications. There was no telling what Robert had been given and so far his track record for attempted assassinations was growing comically long. 

He rolls the dispatcher so that he’s lying on his back, pulling up one side of the oxygen mask and tilting Robert’s head slightly to get better access to the spot. Just as the swab makes contact, Robert snaps awake with a loud gasp, shoulders jolting back against the pillows as he tries to put space between them. He grabs Chalice’s wrist and attempts to push him away, but before he can do much more; the doctor’s eyes flash red again and he forces the man to look him in the eyes. 

“Calm yourself.”

Robert does.

 He freezes, then lets go of Chalice’s wrist, hand falling over his chest as he continues to hyperventilate, closing his eyes and forcing himself to take longer more productive breaths. 

Chalice leans back, satisfied, “That’s better.” 

Chase bristles, “Did you have to fuckin’ do that? That shit’s creepy as hell.” 

“Would you rather he have hurt himself?” 

“…no.”

“Then this was the best course of action.” 

“Still fucking creepy.” 

“Noted.” Chalice pops the swab into a sterile tube and pockets it. 

He turns back to Robert, doing a brief visual exam while the man calms down. The unhealthy flush from the fever is gone, replaced with a concerning pallor. It looked as if they’d just jumped from one extreme to the other. He checks the monitors and sure enough; his temperature is now dipping too low, as though his body had tried too hard to regulate itself and horribly overshot. 

Robert takes a measured deep breath, then blinks up at the ceiling. “Chase?” 

The older man elbows his way past Chalice, setting Beef back on the bed and grabbing Robert’s hand, taking his spot directly next to the head of the bed. Beef trots over his legs and plops down against his hip, settling down happily when Robert absently begins petting him. 

“How’re you doing kid?” 

“Been better.” 

Chase frowns and squeezes his hand, “Need a little bit more than that, smart-ass.” 

“S’kinda cold I guess. I think I had some kind of nightmare…” 

Visi’s phone starts to vibrate, Chase looks back at her as she swipes at the screen and puts it on speaker. 

“Hey Blaze, what’s up?” 

Blazer’s voice crackles over the line, “Visi? Thank god. Are you guys okay?” 

“I guess? How did you-?” 

“The alarms in the holding cells were triggered. The guards found both Jerry and the Chameleon dead. Where are you?” 

“…dead?” Robert struggles up onto his elbow as Chase frantically tries to get him to lie back down. He swings his legs over the side of the bed wincing and falling to his knees when they refuse to support his weight. 

“Damnit kid!” 

Robert grabs Chase’s arm to balance himself, forcing the mask off of his face as he tries to get to his feet again. Chalice stops him with a stern hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me go, you don’t understand-! It’s Shroud!” 

Chalice only relents out of shock, and even Chase goes a shade lighter at his words, but the logical and medical side of his brain takes over. 

He harshly grabs Robert’s chin, looking deeply into his eyes, “Sleep.” And watches the fight leave them, dipping down to catch him in one smooth movement. 

Chapter Text

Despite everything, Robert was getting better. “Better” being a loose term, but the best to apply to the situation. Some of his more worrying symptoms were stating to abate, to the point where they were able to take him off of oxygen after the first 12 hours. After Chalice’s intervention, Robert had been sleeping solidly despite the constant coming and going of members of the team.

It had become impossible to keep most of them out in the first place. 

Shroud’s involvement had shaken them all. There was a nervous energy that permeated the entire building, made worse by the fact that they had been effectively barred from taking any action from this point. The main branch was getting involved, going as far as to lend them a team to cover for the Phoenixes on the orders that they were to prioritize guarding the building and the people therein. 

So they had basically stuffed the office with gunpowder just waiting to explode.

 Punch-up had already destroyed 6 punching bags in the gym which had started a fight with Flambae which Golem was forced to mediate, Prism and Sonar had been banned from any computer use and while they couldn’t prove anything there had been closer surveillance on Malevola and Coupé who had mysteriously gone missing for the first 4 hours of their shifts.

The head of their HR department was losing hair in clumps. 

The only thing that was keeping them from outright hunting the Red Ring at this point was one man, currently blissfully unaware of the chaos he had inadvertently brought down on them as he slept. And now it was Blonde Blazer’s turn to keep an eye on him, and it was arguably the most peaceful hour she’d had in the last week. 
 
“It’s an augment.”

 Chalice enters Robert’s room, a clipboard in one hand and a small white trash can in the other that he hands to her. 

She blinks, setting the bin to the side of her chair, “You mean the…?” 

Chalice nods, rubbing his eyes, irritated. “The substance he was given was a new form of augmentation.” 

“We knew Shroud was a piece of work, but this is something else. He knew what he was doing…Here,” He flips the clipboard around, “Is a microscopic comparison of regular blood, and that of a being with superpowers. This one in particular is from a villain with ice powers. And here,” He flips to the next page, “Is What Robert’s blood looks like right now.” 

Blazer reaches for the clipboard and Chalice watches as she scrutinizes the slides. “So he gave Robert superpowers?!” 

“Not exactly,” The doctor leans over, flipping the page back to point at Robert’s blood sample, “Do you see how these cells are grouping here? They’re missing proteins that would bind them to the other cells. So instead they’re just floating around wreaking havoc on his system; acting more like a virus.” 

“Giving the toxin something to go after...” Blazer mumbles, looking at up at Chalice who nods in approval. 

“Exactly. He didn’t neutralize it, just redirected it. The cold augment may have been intentional to kill the fever. That is to say- It’ll work its way out of his system a little more safely now but it isn't going to be fun. His body is going to have to fight to stabilize itself.” 

Blonde Blazer frowns, leaning forward in her chair to watch Robert sleep. He looks relaxed now, a little pale but otherwise resting; a peace that felt comparable to being in the eye of a storm. 

Her foot slides back and knocks the plastic bin, nearly tipping it over. She catches it, fairly certain that she understands its purpose, but asks anyway- “And the trashcan?”

“A purge is not out of the realm of possibilities.” 

Blazer grimaces, “So he might puke.” 

“It is very likely, yes.” 

She sighs, leaning on her palm, “You know I was going to lecture him after this whole thing was over, but now I’m not so sure. Seems like he’s been through enough…” 

“Oh no, please do. I can give you some talking points if you would like, perhaps even a reference to a good therapist.” 

Robert isn’t sure if he preferred burning to death over whatever the hell he had going on now. He’s having a hard time processing the situation as a whole, memory supplying bits and pieces here and there that make as much sense as the bone deep chill he’s experiencing now. A cold so permeating that it would be almost numbing if not for the stinging pain in his fingers and toes. 

He tries to huddle in on himself but movement has become difficult, as though his blood has turned to slush weighing down his limbs. Unable to do much more, he opens his eyes, trying to get them to adjust to the darkness of the room. 

And it forces into recall the image of Shroud looming over his bed. 

He can feel his heart rate increase, a new form of ice flooding his veins and freezing into a clump in his stomach. It’s the only warning he gets before saliva pools under his tongue and he’s gagging. He almost misses the flurry of curses from his left and the sound of something hollow and plastic being jostled before there is a warm arm sliding beneath his shoulders and hoisting him roughly into a sitting position. It pulls his side and he gags harder, forcing him to curl forward. 

“God-fucking-damnit!” Robert is sure that the voice is attached to the arm, but is too preoccupied to investigate as his stomach cramps and his vision temporarily whites out at the combination of nausea and pain. He can only miserably dry heave over what looks like a little trash can thrust into his lap. 

It’s only as the nausea begins to abate that he registers that he’s leaning against something really warm, a hand on his back rubbing awkward circles. He catches sight of a flame-clad shoulder at the same time that Flambae speaks, “That’s right, bitch-boy, let it out.” 

And he breathes out a stuttered groan, interrupted as he gags again. When the bout passes, he tries to push himself up and away, “Sorry, I can-“ he croaks, but Flambae scoffs and holds him in place. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? Trying to make yourself worse? You’ve been enough of a pain in the ass this week, so stay put and let someone else help for once.” 

To say that Robert is confused would be an understatement, but he’s wrung out and aching and cold and at least Flambae is blessedly warm. So he lets all of his reservations go. 

“Fine, have it your way then.” He grumbles and leans fully against the ex-villain, almost snuggling into his side. Flambae lifts his hands and Robert can’t quite hide his tired smirk when the man tenses and starts to splutter. To his benefit; it actually seems to make him warmer. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

Robert laughs dryly, swallowing past another small wave of nausea and settling his cheek against Flambae’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. 

“S’a lot. Gonna have to be a bit more specific.” 

He feels more than sees the trash can being taken away,

“I hurt you.” 

Oh. He does have a vague recollection of that. Just as well as the look on Flambae’s face right before he had passed out. It had stuck with him then; the guilt. 

“And I’m alive right now aren’t I? Something tells me you had something to do with it…” 

“Do you even know what happened?” 

Robert really should ask, but he doesn’t have the energy for that right now. 

“Mnnn, not really.” 

“So you’re a fucking idiot then.” 

“’Probably.” 

He lets the conversation drop off, trying to tough it out but shivering when he’s overcome with a wave of cold. The blanket in his lap is pulled up and over his shoulder which he gratefully huddles into, and for the first time since he’s been awake he’s starting to feel comfortable. It’s making him drowsy. 

When Flambae leans back, gravity has him following and he can feel the man bracing him until he leans forward again. It sets off his nausea but he swallows it down and is rewarded when a paper cup is placed in his hands. 

“Drink. It’s going to suck ass if you throw up again and don’t have anything in you.” 

Sadly Robert has been here enough times that he doesn’t need to be warned to take it slow. He forces himself to take small sips, for once grateful that the water is room temperature. He’s barely awake by the time he’s halfway through it, too far gone to care when he hears Phenomaman speaking from the other side of the room. 

“I have come to take over, but it appears that I may be intruding. I can come back at another time perhaps?” 

But he’s jolted awake when Flambae jumps. 

“Thank fuck. For the love of god get him off of me. I’ve got better things to do right now than to play teddy bear to an invalid.” He says, but his actions contradict his words; waiting until Phenomaman is close enough to hand him off without jostling him. 

Feeling slightly spiteful at the loss of warmth, Robert cracks an eye open to watch Flambae leave, 

“Call me.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Robert is sure that if there was a door to slam on the way out, he would have done it. 

“Well that was…interesting.” 

And he wants to comment, but the nausea is creeping back up on him and he doesn’t think he can hold it back this time. He takes shallow breaths, leaning forward and letting the blanket drop back into his lap. 

“Phenoma-“ Nope, too many syllables, “-gonna puke.” 

And to his credit, the hero takes it in stride- calmly retrieving the trash can and holding it steady as Robert painfully wretches up the little water he had in his system. 

“It is all right.” 

It is Phenomaman’s turn to rub comforting circles on his back, and though he isn’t as warm as Flambae had been there is something painfully familiar about that action that puts Robert at ease. He rides out the rest of the fit, taking a mouthful of water and spitting it into the trashcan when he’s done. He’s given a moment to rest before Phenomaman is settling him back onto the mattress, pulling his blanket up before turning away and reappearing with a larger plush looking comforter. 

“I was told that something like this would come in handy. I made a special trip to the state of Alaska for it. It was not as cold there as I had been lead to believe.” By the tone of his voice, he may have had some wild expectations. “But the people there were kind enough to show me to the market of a man named Fred. It was very large. I was able to procure this blanket from the discount section.” 

Robert finds out quickly that it was in fact the best thing when Phenomaman plugs the blanket in. The near immediate radiant warmth has him humming in appreciation, nearly melting into the pillows when he feels himself relaxing.

The relief is so immediate that he has no trouble falling back asleep. Phenomaman is still there when he wakes up.