Chapter Text
The first thing Robert felt was the uncomfortable, stiff, plastic press of a garden chair against his back.
The second thing he felt was, of course, the familiar feeling of pain in his sore neck after sleeping in said garden chair.
He groaned as he opened his eyes, stretching the grogginess away. Looking down on the worn, cheap armrest, he frowns. Something isn't right.
"...What?"
Last he remembered, this chair wasn't even in his apartment anymore. It got thrown into the trash right after he had his 'housewarming' party - and good riddance. He had a proper bed now, so why did he wake up like this?
He hasn't slept this poorly ever since he wasted his mattress on that glowing, slimy, toxic waste of space --
His phone buzzed for attention. Robert almost jumped out of his skin at the alarm tone - hearing Beef shuffle nearby. The reminder blared at him incessantly, but the date on his phone was what really made him pause.
' Capture Red Ring, interrogation ' - the alarm said, - ' September, 2023 ' - the digital clock stated.
"What the fuck." He checked his phone twice. Checked his phone again, and again. A quick search on the web didn't explain a sudden date change, or a clock app fuckup... Or how the hell his calendar is set 6 months backwards.
...His contacts were gone.
Blonde Blazer, Chase, Royd. Visi. The team - No one was here.
Robert looked around his empty apartment frantically. It looked so wrong. He looked down at himself, disheveled and worn, and oddly without the healing wounds he remembers having. It has been barely a month since his fight with Shroud, and yet, there's not a bruise on him. He's spotless.
There's no way he recovered fast enough for this. No. Way.
His head is spinning as he gets up shakily, looking out into the balcony. The city is loud as he looks down, and sure enough - the mattress he prepared for interrogating that prick laid in the dumpster below.
There was no way.
He pivots to look for his keys.
Next to his door, if this nightmare is true - he always put it there.
A quick look, and, there it was.
The astral pulse.
The same astral pulse that he clearly remembers leaving in the safety of SDN's lab.
The same astral pulse that he used to carelessly leave out in the open. Back when he wasn't afraid.
Back when he was foolish.
His father's invention. The nuclear battery to power up his old suit. A mech unrefined by SDN's better materials just yet, instead held together by duct tape and broken dreams.
Only now was it hitting him. It couldn't be true - It wasn't possible. There was no way--
Yet so far, everything was proving him wrong.
The bare walls. The green lawn chair. No bed. No lamps. No warmth.
The original astral pulse, left out in the open, boldly and fearlessly and stupidly.
He didn't understand. He was back in the past, somehow, and...
He had no idea what the fuck to do about it.