Work Text:
Robert sighed as he stared at the work hub on his computer, it seems barely used and mostly consists of the Z-Team hurling insults and threats at whatever dispatcher they had at the time until they left it. (One such instance being a memorable photo of a car on fire in the SDN with the caption “LEAVE BITCH.”)
He knows this team can do better– be better with just a little bit of guidance, even if it came from him of all people, but he also knows they're people. Complex, messy people who have their own lives and so he starts writing in the chat, somewhat reluctantly.
Robert Robertson [ID: 5318008]
Here's my number, only contact me for emergencies or if you're not showing up for your shift for whatever reason.
1.
The first time someone called Robert, it was a Friday night and he was drifting off to sleep in his plastic chair that's seen better days while Beef snored softly on his pillow.
His sleepy haze was cut short by the shrill ringing of his phone, he lazily reached out for it and squinted at the bright screen suddenly in his face.
An unknown number, great.
He sighed as he answered it, bringing his phone up to his ear.
“Robert Robertson,” he tiredly said into the phone, furrowing his eyebrows as he registered the sound of blasting music in the background of whoever was calling him.
“Heyyyy nerrrd!” Invisigal's slurred voice called out, “So, I know you said this number was for emergencies or whatever, but I was wondering if you knew about the bet the Z-Team had?”
“...The one about when I quit?” Robert reluctantly asked as he pulled his phone away from his face slightly to see the time– it's 3am on a Tuesday. Shit, he's going to be babysitting a drunk Invisigal.
“Well, no but that's still on the table– the one where, uh, what is it?” Invisigal asked someone else before humming, “About who you were gonna cut!”
“Uhuh, and?” Robert asked as he glanced at Beef, who was still sleeping soundly, and wishing that was him too.
“Well, no one bet you weren't gonna cut anyone– which, by the way, was the whole cutting thing a prank or?” Invisigal asked as she fumbled with something before the music of, what he could only assume was, a bar flooded through the phone.
“No, I found out before the shift started. Blazer pulled me aside. I didn't even know she was going to do that,” Robert explained, “I would have vetoed the idea if given the chance, it's not conductive for team building– plus not only does it threaten your livelihoods, but it undermines the whole purpose of Z-Team in the first place. A second chance for everyone, isn't the message you're sending anymore if you cut people from the team that are on the road of rehabilitation. Rehabilitation isn't linear and it's stupid to think so, so of course people won't do as good when they're struggling.”
“Woah, woah, woah! We don't need the whole rant,” Invisigal cut him off, “Is that why you missed second shift?”
“Ugh, if I never have to see that stupid, stupid asshole ever again–” Robert cut himself off, because while shit talking the one board director that couldn't understand that cutting someone from the Z-Team was a horrible idea, he was talking to Invisigal and seemingly more of the Z-Team. “Anyway, you guys enjoy your night, I'll see you in a few hours,” Robert said, ignoring her protests (and seemingly Sonar and Punch Up's protests as well), and hung up.
Robert looked towards Beef, who was now staring up at Robert with sleepy eyes, huffing at him before burrowing back into his pillow bed. Robert chuckled, “Okay, okay, I'll follow your lead.”
2.
The second time Robert got called by an unknown number, he was standing in line at a café a few minutes away from the SDN centre. His paycheck had just hit his bank account and he wanted to treat himself with halfway decent coffee instead of the “radioactive sludge that will one day grow a brain and walk away,” as Chase lovingly described the SDN's coffee.
“Yeah?” he answered as he scanned the menu, uninterested in most of the options– what the hell is a dubai chocolate latte?
“Hey bitch, what sort of food do you like?” Flambae asked, almost shouting into his ear as chatter from the others threatened to drown him out.
“Uh, why?” Robert asked absentmindedly as he scanned the board, nearly desperate for a normal option. Apple pie dreams, the ol cold Razzle Dazzle, pillow dreams– okay, who named these?
“I said you never had a spice in your life but Prism says you'd be that one neighbour who accidentally stumbles into a cookout,” Flambae explained as Prism started to protest.
“I said he has the pathetic pizzazz of a guy who accidentally stumbled into a cookout and got his world rocked by good food to the point the dry shit he makes doesn't appeal to him anymore! Why else would he be so skinny?” Prism corrected before she got closer to the phone, “So? What food do you like?”
“I gave you my phone number for emergency purposes,” Robert sighed, “And what sort of food I like doesn't mean I've never had spices, what sort of logic is that?”
“Just answer the question,” Flambae grumbled as Robert decided to order a hot chocolate– it was the only thing on the board that made sense to him.
“Uh, fuck, now every thought I've ever had is gone,” Robert blanched as he tried to think, “I don't really like food, but I guess tacos, twinkies and there's a place on the corner near my apartment that sells these lamb and donner kebabs so big that I don't have to find anything else to eat for a few days.”
“That's uh,” Prism started before stopping.
“That's just sad,” was all Flambae said before hanging up.
Robert blinked before putting his phone away, deciding not to think about the strange call– they probably had a bet on it or something.
“Hi, what can I get for you today?” the barista asked with a strained smile.
“Uh, can I get a hot chocolate please?” Robert asked as he fished his wallet out of his trousers.
“Yep! What size?” she asked, and he quickly looked up for the size chart before answering, “Medium please.”
“Okay! Would you like a syrup? We have dubai chocolate, caramel, strawberry and mint.”
Robert stared at her for a few moments before blinking, “No thanks?”
“Do you want to substitute the milk? Oh! And do you want protein powder in it?” she asked, staring at him with this dead look in his eyes that made him wonder what abominations passing as drinks she's seen.
“No thanks, just hot chocolate and marshmallow if you have them,” Robert smiled awkwardly at her, sighing in relief when she stared at him with disbelief before muttering “Oh thank god, someone actually normal for once,” to herself.
3.
Robert's back felt like it was on fire as he laid down on the floor of his apartment, groaning at the zaps of pain that travelled through his body any time he attempted to move.
He knew he should've been doing those PT exercises, but by the time he got home all he wanted to do was collapse on his chair. If this was the cost of ignoring them, he needs to add them to his morning workout (if 5am counts as morning– the night shift had given him concerned looks when he came in at 4am last time so he tries to make it a more “reasonable” time.)
He sighed, grumbling as he heard his phone ring. He moved to grab it, ignoring the pricks of pain that travelled and bloomed in various places he hadn't even realised were connected, and answered the unknown number without much fanfare.
“Robertson,” his voice was strained as he pulled the phone closer to him, setting it down on the floor next to him so he didn't have to keep holding it.
“Heyyy Bobbie,” Punch Up's voice came through the phone, Robert closed his eyes and braced for whatever conversation that was about to happen to the best of his ability.
“Why are you calling me at….” Robert looked at the time, “4:36am?” he reluctantly asked.
“Well, to get straight to the point, me and Coop were wondering if you've seen swan lake?” Punch Up asked, “Only asking because you see, I was saying that not many people just watch ballet if they don't have an interest in it, and Coop thinks I'm codding her.”
“It's a ludicrous suggestion, ballet is a work of art that should be admired by all. Is the local company so popular that each show is sold out?” Coupé spoke up, her voice still cutting but somehow lighter than usual– probably because she's not working.
“Uh, well– I was homeschooled mostly, so I didn't hear about ballet until I was… sixteen? One of my friends did it and dragged me along to practice– not that I'm any good at it. I don't think people see anything other than swan lake or the nutcracker, but that's probably because tickets are expensive,” Robert shrugged, ignoring the sting in his muscles as he did so.
“Hm. I see,” Coupé paused before speaking slowly, “I would like to see what you can accomplish one day, Robert Robertson.”
“Alright, bye Robert!” Punch Up called out before hanging up.
Robert blinked before turning off his phone and closing his eyes as he tried to fight off the ebbing pain.
“I would like to see what you can accomplish one day.” Robert scoffed at the idea, his body wasn't built for much these days, not after the coma and definitely not with the injuries he's accumulated over the years.
He might not be able to dance again without his muscles and bones protesting, but hopefully he can be Mecha Man– to achieve something with the legacy other than ruining it.
He sighed as rolled over, wincing at the burst of pain at the movement, before slowly settling down again. It was nearly 5, but work doesn't officially start until 8, so he has a few more hours to go. A few more hours to kill by laying on the floor because there's no way, not even if Shroud appeared in his apartment right at that moment, that he was getting up any time soon.
“Goddamn it,” Robert grumbled to himself as he tried to force him back to sleep, “Shouldn't have given them my number, they're never going to use it for an emergency.”
4.
Robert was correct not even a day later, where during a shift, he got a call.
“I have to mute for a second,” was all the warning he gave before pressing the button on his headset that thankfully muted him (Chase had shown it to him after he bribed him with two nights with Beef and a twinkie) and answering the unknown number.
“Robertson,” he said into the phone as he continued dispatching to the best of his ability, staring at the call manuscripts carefully. He should probably send Sonar since it had something to do with Vanderstank…
“Robert Robertson!” Phenomaman's voice yelled through the phone. Robert could hear Waterboy's panicked “Y-you don't have to y-yell into it!” in the background.
“Phenomaman? Aren't you meant to be at the school giving a talk?” Robert asked as he looked at Phenomaman's and Waterboy's icons, seeing that they were on their way back to rest at the SDN.
“Waterboy and I are returning to rest! Waterboy was most gracious to teach me how to communicate using the phone!” Phenomaman beamed as Waterboy spluttered in the background. “Sorry if we're bothering you, s-sir!” Waterboy chimed in.
“It's fine, only call me for emergencies, okay?” Robert instructed gently as he looked at a new call with a raised eyebrow– Red Ring causing problems by the docks? What a shocker, fork found in kitchen.
“Of course!” Phenomaman said as Waterboy stuttered his agreement.
Robert sighed in relief as he heard Waterboy instruct Phenomaman on how to hang up (and doing it himself when Phenomaman was getting slightly confused) before unmuting himself.
“Alright, what did I miss?”
5.
Robert glanced towards the clock as he leaned back in his chair. He was at the SDN early again, not that it was surprising (the night shift still looked concerned, but they nodded at him when they noticed him so he's taking that as a good sign.)
He absentmindedly ate the muffin he got from the ridiculously expensive cafe, the dead look in the barista's eyes made him not ask why they were opened so early (now that he's thinking about he, he's never seen that barista not there, no matter what time he goes in there.)
So, he was jolted out of his thoughts when his phone rang– unknown number, but at this point it's a 50/50 between someone on Z-Team and a scammer.
“Robertson,” Robert answered as he leaned back in his chair, ignoring the way it creaked and the way his back cracked horrifically loud.
“Heyyy Robert!” Malevola chuckled, “So, bad news– Sonar got a little bit fucked up and flew into a billboard.”
“..Is he okay?” Robert asked as Malevola stopped talking for a moment, whispers inaudible to Robert being shared between Malevola and who he assumed to be Sonar.
“Uhhh… I'm sure he'll be right as rain tomorrow, but right now he's just a lump on the couch,” Malevola shrugged as snickering was heard.
“Uhuh, and he wouldn't have happened to bet you that you couldn't convince me to get him off work today?” he raised an eyebrow as he stared at the night shift's logs– the bat hybrid hero slamming into a billboard would have had the SDN's PR team (and by technicality aka high charisma, Z-Team's PR person, Prism would also be messaged and she usually blows Robert's phone up when that happens. Especially if it interrupts her night.)
“Fuck!” Malevola cursed.
“I told you nothing gets past Boberto!” Sonar laughed in the background as Malevola cursed.
“Okay, okay, I'll see you two later when your shifts start,” Robert rolled his eyes, “And you're welcome, Sonar.”
“Thank you my man!” Sonar basically yelled to be heard as Malevola grumbled about paying Sonar before hanging up.
Robert rolled his eyes fondly– Z-team is a mess, but they're his mess, really.
+1
Robert was holding Beef close to him as he was leaving SDN for the night, somewhat excited for his plans (for once.) He had enough extra spending money (for the first time in a long time) and wanted to stop by the small restaurant hidden in the maze that was LA that sells the best (in his opinion) lamb kebabs for miles.
He could practically imagine his evening now– sitting down on the floor, leaning against the hard wall as he hunched over a takeaway box as Beef looked up at Robert with his big wet eyes, his tongue sticking out as he glanced at Robert's food.
This idea, this ideal evening, was unfortunately broken by his phone ringing right after he clocked out and was making his way out of the SDN building. Unknown number, shocker.
He set Beef down gently before answering.
“Robertson,” he said, holding his breath as he hoped it wasn't one of the Z-Team trying to draw him into their mischief.
“Robert?” Golem sounded hesitant and also out of breath at the same time.
“Yeah, is everything okay?” Richard asked as he looked down at Beef, silently mourning their perfectly normal evening.
“Uh.. no,” Golem admitted, “You remember the baby kaiju I took in?”
“Yeah? What about the kid?” Robert asked as people on Golem's side of the phone started to scream.
“There was a mudslide when I took the baby out for the walk and so I protected her but it spooked her but I absorbed too much of the mud so I can't handle her without risking it,” Golem explained, “And when she freaks out, she slowly starts getting bigger in side– help?”
“What do you need me to do?” Robert asked, torn between going back to his desk to sleep and finding Golem himself.
“If you can shut down the road or stop SDN from sending any heroes, I don't want to stress the baby more,” Golem asked before he started to make soothing noises towards the baby kaiju.
“Alright, give me a second– I'll call you back,” Robert said before he hung up and turned around, the receptionist raising an eyebrow at him before deciding to ignore him as he went back to the dispatcher floor.
Robert had tapped his foot against the elevator floor the entire way up as Beef stared up at him, his head tilted and his tongue rolled out.
Robert jogged out of the elevator when it came to a stop, making sure to press the button as he did so so Beef could take his time getting out of the elevator (as much as he loves Beef, the little guy has very stubby legs compared to Robert and is the laziest person/dog he knows.)
“Shit,” he cursed as he tried to think of who to ask before settling on Galen. “Hey Galen, if there's any reports about a kaiju before I make it to my desk, can you tag it as sensitive and being handled?”
Galen looked up from his desk across the office and gave Robert a thumbs up and a slight nod, making Robert sigh in relief. “Thanks Galen,” he said as he raced towards his desk, quickly rebooting his computer as Chase startled in the cubicle next to him.
“What's your ass doing back here? You just left!” Chase said as he stood up from his chair to watch Robert quickly sign into the network with a mixture of worry and frustration on his face.
“Golem's kid got spooked and became a kaiju sized baby instead of a baby sized kaiju baby,” Robert explained quickly as he quickly filtered through the calls, clicking on one that mentioned a “massive fucking monster!” that was near a park. He thanked Galen under his breath at the file tags before diving into hacking the SDN security systems nearby (and unknown to some people, the traffic system.)
“Shit really?” Chase's eyes widened, “Shit. Golem can't do anything?”
“Mudslide, he absorbed too much of it so he can't calm down the kid while he's stabilising,” Robert explained as he looked down at the available heroes– Z-Team was let off hours ago, Robert having to stay behind to fill out the day's paperwork but there, with his picture lit was Sonar.
Robert quickly put his headphones on and clicked onto the individual comms.
“Sonar? I need your help,” Robert said quickly, ignoring the slightly groggy groan from Sonar (he probably fell asleep in the break room again.)
“Last shift ended hours ago, Bobert,” Sonar pointed out with an annoyed huff.
“Look, it's an emergency. Golem's kid is going haywire and Golem can't do anything, he needs some help,” Robert explained as he made all traffic lights heading towards the park red.
“Shit, okay, okay, but you have to invest in ScreechCoin for me,” Sonar said before grumbling, slipping out of the breakroom and into the skies above the SDN through a window.
“Location being sent now,” Robert said as he quickly put Sonar on the call, “And I'm not investing in ScreechCoin– wait is this why I keep getting emails about it? I thought that was just a phishing attempt.”
“No Bobbie, I thought you needed some direction in life,” Sonar deadpanned, “And fine you don't have to, I don't know why everyone is so resistant towards the best financial decisions of their life, but I want you to get me a rat latte from that fancy coffee shop nearby– I'll provide the rats and all.”
Robert thought back to the dead-eyed barista and winced before mentally apologising to the poor woman, “Fine,” he promised through gritted teeth.
There’s never a dull day with the Z-Team but at least someone used his number correctly this time.