Chapter Text
The first time Herman does something utterly out of the ordinary is in late February.
It’s seven months after the team put Shroud behind bars for good, and somehow, Invisigal is finally regaling the team with the story of spying on him in the mens’ bathroom. Robert had honestly almost forgotten about the whole disastrous thing, aside from the tiny pockmarked scars on his chest where the deepest shards of glass had dug in.
“Ah, yes, I recall this day. I do apologize again for being the cause of your injury, Robert Robertson.”
“It’s fine, Phenomaman,” he sighs, talking into his cup of coffee and watching the ripples spread across the surface. It’s been a slow morning at work, and he’s long since resigned himself to chatter over the comms. Even if it’s about him.
“What- that was you?” Visi crows over the line. “I feel like I should be thanking you for that!”
“Is this an Earth custom I am not yet aware of?”
“Nah, I just like ‘em a little bloody. It was hot.”
“…Ah.”
“Anyway,” she continues, back on track, “so there I am, telling Robert about my wet dream-“
“Ew, girl, have some class,” Prism mutters.
“-and he’s picking up what I’m putting down, okay, there’s banter, all that good shit. I finally go to make my move, get right up in Rob’s face after waiting what feels like forever for the perfect opportunity-“
“I should’ve called HR when I had the chance,” Robert interrupts, deadpan. “Also, that entire conversation couldn’t have been more than two minutes, tops.”
“Oh, fuck you,” she says, no malice behind it, “So I’m this close to bagging Rob-“ he snorts, which she dutifully ignores, “-when all of a sudden, pbhhbtt! Waterboy, who I didn’t even notice was in the stall, by the way, ripping some of the gnarliest ass I’ve heard in years. Like, the kind of shit you only ever end up taking in a public bathroom when someone’s ugly crying in the stall next to you, and there’s nothing you can do about it, you know what I mean? Completely ruins the whole vibe.”
“So is that why you call him Wetfartboy?” Coupe asks, amused.
“Nah,” Flambae responds, “that one was me. Hadn’t even heard this story until just now. Although I have caught Wetwipe blowing up the bathroom a coupe times since then. Dude has like, IBS or something.”
Waterboy, who is, in fact, on shift with the rest of them, stutters out a protest. “I-I, i-it’s not- I don’t ha-have-“
Malevola cuts him off, laughing. “God, that’s funny. Any other good nicknames up your sleeves?”
“Oh, lots,” Flambae says, the smile in his voice fully audible. “Wetfartboy, Wetwipe, Waterbitch-“
“Guys, I really don’t think this is appropriate,” Robert tries. Waterboy makes some embarassed sound in agreement.
“Wetdream, Waterbaby, I heard Chase call him Wet Baby Bitch Boy once-“ Invisigal continues. It sounds like she’s listing them out on her fingers.
“Watertwink, Windboy-“
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Waterboy snaps over the line, and it’s so sudden and unexpected that the call goes completely silent. There’s a note to his voice that Robert’s never heard before, not even in Waterboy’s rare moments of anger. He barely even sounds like himself. “You can call me Watert-twink or W-Wetboy o-or whatever else. I-I don’t care. Just don’t… don’t call me that.”
“…Sorry,” Flambae mumbles, sounding contrite and a bit bewildered. “Won’t happen again.”
“…Th-thanks.” Waterboy mutters, voice getting a bit quieter with every word. “…I-I’m just gonna… go-going to t-take my lunch earl- now. S-sorry. Bye.”
Robert makes no move to stop him, even though it’s only just past ten and Waterboy’s lunch break isn’t scheduled for over an hour. He waits until he’s entirely sure Waterboy’s mic and tracker are offline before sighing. “Does anyone know what the hell that was about?”
A resounding chorus of “no’s” is his answer, and then everybody is talking at once.
“Shit, dude.”
“I knew he was working on growing a backbone, but that was intense, even for us.”
“Yeah, that did not feel good. Damn.”
“No, I imagine it did not. I did not know the wet one was capable of such vigor! Although I wish we had gotten to see such energy under better circumstances.”
“Anyone even know why that’s the one that bothered him? I mean, Windboy? Y’all were saying way worse shit.”
“Bro to bro… I have no idea.”
“I dunno, mate, but he didn’t sound right.”
“Yeah, the lad sounded scary. It was weird as anything.”
“No, not scary. He sounded scared, although I’m not sure of the reason why.”
The team sits with that for a moment, the discomfort almost palpable through the line, before Robert sighs again. “Alright, well, whatever it was, I’m sure he wouldn’t want us theorizing about it like this. Especially not on a recorded call. Let’s get back to work.”
The rest of the morning shift goes by smoothly enough, the team settling back into their usual banter. There’s an air of unease over the line, though, a bit of hesitation that carries them through to lunch. No one wants to broach the subject again.
When Robert sits back down at his desk to start the afternoon shift, Waterboy is already back online, like nothing ever happened. He sounds as chipper as ever.
“G-good afternoon, sir- R-Robert! How was your lunch?”
He blinks at his monitor, baffled, like somehow closing his eyes will change what he’s hearing. “…It was good, thank you, Waterboy.” He hesitates. “Are you… okay?”
“I-I’m! Fine. I’m fine,” Waterboy replies, and though he still sounds cheerful there’s a hint of steel to his tone. Drop it, Robert hears between the lines.
“Alright,” Robert concedes. He knows when not to push.
The rest of the team filters in slowly, dawdling after lunch. Flambae is the last to return. Despite what Robert would’ve assumed, none of them bring it up for the rest of the day - they don’t talk about the incident, they don’t imply it, and they don’t bother Waterboy at all. It’s, frankly, as disturbing as it is impressive, and he makes a mental note to applaud the rest of the team on their tact after work.
By the end of the week - hell, the end of the day - it almost feels like Robert had dreamed the whole thing.
That doesn’t mean he’s forgotten, though. Far from it - he remembers all over again every time the team lets a new incident slip. It all leads up to a very interesting question, one which he has no idea how to answer:
Who the hell is Waterboy?