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Chapter Text

Chase was in the process of watching his 7th call to Robert ring out dismally when the increasingly irritating jingle gave way to a new and exciting beeping noise. Unknown Number flashed at the top of the screen and he stubbornly mashed his finger on the green symbol below it, slamming the phone up to his cheek. 

“What the hell you want?” He hissed down the line. From across the office, Blazer was waving at him unsubtly, eyebrows furrowed in the most explicit gesture of anger he’d ever seen on her usually mild face. He wafted her away, silently explaining another failed attempt.  

Robert was an hour and a half late to work. This was beyond abnormal; even if he was dragging his heels and still snoring, Robert was always on time. If anything, he was early. He’d gotten deep into the habit of arriving an hour or two before he was due in specifically so he could take advantage of the unusually empty gym. Seeing neither hide nor hair of him was seriously fucking concerning.  

“Uh, is this Chase Wright?” 

“Yes. Damnit.” Blazer looked increasingly annoyed, and she seemed to be making a threat, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was. “What do you want?” 

“This is Officer Foreman. I have a… Robert Robertson here with me? He’s asked you to come and pick him up from the station.” 

Chase froze. “What?” He tried to express to Blazer that he had a lead, but she just squinted at him, confused. “What the hell is he doing there?” 

“I don’t know, sir. The kid won’t tell us anything. He’s a little roughed up but he’s not hurt.” 

“Ain’t much of a kid.” Chase grumbled, already digging around the clutter on his desk in search of his car keys. The pressure to finally get a car had kicked in with his arthritis diagnosis; he could no longer just run any distance he pleased. “He’s meant to be at work.” 

“Uh, Mr Wright? That’s… not legal.” 

Chase paused again. Blazer was marching over now, winding through busy dispatchers and office staff with her mouth already open like she was about to chew him out. He waved her off hastily, trying to warn her not to interrupt.  

“What’s not legal? Employing a man? Ask him why he can’t drive his own damn self back from the station!” 

“Well, he’s ten, sir. Ten year olds aren’t allowed to work.” There was a long pause, then an unsubtle cough. “Or drive.” 

Hands on her hips, Blazer slammed to a halt, face expectant. Chase silently counted down from ten in his head, then took a long, calming breath.  

“Let me get this straight. Robert Robertson is at your police station, and he is visibly ten years old?” 

Blazer startled, anger evaporating in a blink. 

“Um, that’s right. So, when can you come and get him?” 

“I can come and get him right now.” Chase ground out, leaving no room for Blazer to argue. She still looked a little stunned, her eyebrows nearly peaking over the top of her mask.  

With a sharp goodbye, Chase hung up, shoving his phone deep in his pocket and draping his coat over one arm. To her credit, Blazer didn’t actually try to stop him, but Chase paused before he left nonetheless.  

“I’m gonna bring this little shit in. In the meanwhile, take a look at that Tempo motherfucker.” 

Without even complaining about the blatant lack of respecting the chain of command, Blazer nodded and turned back towards her office.  

Tempo was a recent up-and-comer, as well as a perpetual pain in SDN’s ass. Her power was strong enough to put her in the big leagues, far bigger than Robert and the Z-Team had to worry themselves with, but Chase had a special and unique hatred for her.  

The sound of her voice—allegedly angelic, though Chase was sceptical—could literally sap years of a person's life from them. Despite being roughly sixty in any official documentation, Tempo could retain eternal youth by stealing time away from her victims.  

So, Chase’s distaste was personal. First of all, he did not want to give up more years than he already had; secondly, he would literally chop off an arm for the chance of reclaiming a good few years of his youth. Every time he went to work, the first name he checked for in the databases was hers. He had dreams of seeing a big red ‘CAPTURED’ stamped next to her name.  

There was a reason Chase had thought of her first though, far beyond whatever personal issues he had with her. As far as anyone knew, there were no other troublemakers in Torrance who had the ability to fuck with time. And, logically, if she could take years away, couldn’t she also, potentially, give them away? 

Why she would, Chase didn’t know. Why she chose Robert, why she chose to make him a child, all of it was a mystery, but it had Tempo’s name written all over it no matter what.  

Chase stewed on this mystery all the way to the station, where he promptly put on a grumpy-yet-fragile old man performance so that a nice young officer would personally escort him through the raging crowd. He shook the fellow off the moment he spotted a horribly familiar head of auburn hair.  

It was attached to a little head, connected to a little body, perched atop a desk. Little Robert Robertson swung his legs, head bowed as he waited for someone to pick him up.  

It was definitely him. At certain points of Chase’s life, he’d seen that dork’s face more often than he’d seen his own, and he knew it like the back of his hand. A small part of him had been distantly hoping that it was all some elaborate joke the Z-Team had set up to try and get him in trouble at work, but this image swiftly dashed those dreams to smithereens. With a sigh, Chase straightened up a bit and beelined for the desk.  

The officer who was sitting at it, presumably the aforementioned Officer Foreman, poked his head up at Chase’s approach. He muttered something indistinguishable to Robert, who spun around in a snap- 

And promptly looked right past Chase, searching for a familiar face which had aged right out of existence. Chase sighed, shaking his head, and stepped up to cuff Robert’s shoulder.  

“Kid, you know just how to hurt a guy's feelings.” 

Chase watched the flow of emotions on little Robert’s face as he put the pieces together. Confusion, shock, recognition, back to confusion; he hurled himself into Chase’s arms, nearly knocking him right off his feet, then peeled back just to glare up into Chase’s face. “Are you really Chase?” 

“As if there’s some other motherfucker stupid enough to drive out here just to pick your dumbass up!” Chase grumbled, bapping the side of Robert’s head. The kid ducked just a moment too slow to dodge it, his reflexes not quite honed just yet.  

His reaction suggested that his mind, too, was that of his ten year old self. The possibility that this was regular grown-up Robert shrunken down would have been favourable. He still would have been able to go to work. This, though, made the situation far more difficult.  

“Then why are you old?” Robert prodded without the first bit of shame, extending his bony little fingers to prod at Chase’s cheek. “You’re super old!” 

“Goddamn brat.” Chase hissed, yanking the little shit away by the back of his collar like he was scruffing a kitten. Robert made the perfect yowling noise for the metaphor—the cop, at least, seemed satisfied that the two did, in fact, know each other.  

Robert continued to pepper him with questions as the cop got Chase to sign a bunch of forms that he wouldn’t let the little shit run wild again, and he didn’t stop talking all the way out until he was getting shoved into the car.  

God, Chase had forgotten how fucking chatty he was. At the very least, Chase finally got an explanation for what had happened. Or, at least, he got half of the story.  

Apparently, the first thing Robert could remember was hearing a woman shouting. Chase dropped an imaginary coin in his mental ‘reasons it’s Tempo’ jar. The woman had been croaking, her voice weak and scratchy, when Robert had struggled to his feet and seen no more than a shadow flitting away.  

He’d found his way out of an old apartment building that he didn’t recognise and walked all the way back to his old place. He had no key to get in, and his father wasn’t answering. Chase had swallowed thickly when Robert had said that, but the kid had sped past those details fast enough in his recounting that Chase hadn’t been pressured to give him an explanation.  

After that, he’d gone to the cops so they could call Chase for him.  

“So where are we going?” 

“Where I work.” 

“Where do you work?” 

“SDN.” 

Robert made a noise. “I thought you liked freelance.” 

“Kid. Look at me. You think I’m still a hero?” 

Robert did look at him. In the corner of Chase’s eye, he saw that gentle, earnest expression as it explored Chase’s near-unrecognisable face, probably searching for a hint of the young man he once knew.  

“You mean… you retired or something? How did you get so old?” 

Chase still wasn’t totally sure how to explain all of it to such a little kid.  

Well, he wasn’t really a little kid. He was edging into his teenage years, not far off puberty, where he’d shoot up like a reed until he was looking down on Chase instead of up. But Robert had always been on the small side, probably owed to so much time fending for himself.  

He’d lived off microwave TV dinners and god knew Chase had never made him anything decent. He got Twinkies and off-brand soda, perhaps the occasional burger if he was lucky. Looking back, with the wisdom of a good few decades at hand, Chase could feel a bit guilty about it. Back then, babysitting had just been another irritating chore.  

Chase hadn’t known what it was like to have a parent who didn’t give a fuck about you. He’d always had both of his parents in his life. They took good care of him, making sure he was well fed and well loved.  

Astral never wasted his time on Robert. Chase recalled a few scarce memories of genuine expressions of care from Astral, but that was it. The rest was just Robert, puttering along on his own, chasing after Chase’s heels because he was the only one who ever really stuck around, even though he’d complained about it so much.  

He stole a quick glance at Robert again. Yeah. Too small.  

“Ask me again when we get to the office. I ain’t having this conversation without a coffee.” 

Robert huffed, slumping in his seat, but went obediently quiet as he watched the city pass by his window. He stayed quiet as they shuffled out of the car and into the building, but Chase saw the light blooming in his eyes as they walked nonetheless.  

He’d always had this fascination with superheroes. Chase had found it weird in the past, sure that Robert ought to have gotten used to the allure of hero life, what with how much time he spent surrounded by them. Once they were demystified by familiarity, the awe and wonder died a sudden, bloody death, transformed into a general feeling of unspecific disappointment.  

But not for Robert. He’d adored his dad, in that distant, celebrity-worship sort of way. He’d wanted to be a superhero with all of his might. He’d succeeded.  

That overwhelming excitement caught up with Robert now, and he practically bounced through the building, running laps around Chase as he tried to take in every little detail, to wave at every passing hero.  

Chase pinned him in place with a hand on his shoulder as he was shuffled into the elevator, and kept a hand on him once they stepped out, trying to hurry him along to Blazer’s office.  

He’d only considered it a bit too late, but he really didn’t want little Robert meeting the Z-Team if he could help it. They were terrible role models in a way that Robert would internalise instantly. If he was going to attach himself to any superhero in the building, Chase wanted it to be Blazer.  

Unfortunately, he had no such luck. He was trying to smuggle him past the breakroom when he nearly collided with Invisigal, who was grinning at Flambae behind her in a way that made Chase think they’d collaborated on a particularly evil prank, the sort that meant it was probably lucky that Robert wouldn’t be able to stumble into it.  

They both greeted Chase quite casually, then promptly did twin double takes.  

Chase sighed, utterly giving up. He shouldn’t even have thought about it; he’d definitely jinxed it by thinking about it. There were stars in Robert’s eyes already.  

“Holy shit, please tell me that’s his secret kid.” Flambae exhaled, raw glee in his voice. Chase wasn’t interested in gracing that with a response, but fortunately, Robert hadn’t been listening at all.  

“You’re superheroes.” He gasped, grinning so wide it exposed his missing canine tooth. “Awesome. I’m Robert.” 

He held out a hand, and neither of them took it. Instead, Invisigal squatted down to match his level, studying his face with open curiosity. Robert looked a little put out by the snub, and he dropped his hand to his side in disappointment.  

“Fuck off. He’s Robert?” She posed the question to Chase, but he didn’t get the chance to answer.  

“That’s what I said.” Robert grumbled, crossing his arms. “And who are you?” 

“She’s a crazy bitch. Keep your distance. You two better go and dismantle whatever the fuck you’ve set up in there.” 

“Not until you explain why Bobert is so small!” Flambae argued, poking Robert in the forehead—the kid rocked back on his heels, then smacked the offending hand away.  

“I’m not small- and that’s not my name! Chase, what-?” 

“Alright, that fucker Tempo probably did this to him. So you better be ready to go catch her, alright?” 

Chase had plenty of opinions on the Z-Team members, but he had to confess—very reluctantly—that they were beginning to improve. While he didn’t trust them to show a young and impressionable Robert what it meant to be a hero, he was certain that, at the very least, they could successfully capture Tempo.  

Mostly, this was because they didn’t have the same limits that other hero teams did. The Z-Team were more than happy to get their hands dirty and were better than ever at working together, supporting someone else's weakness with their own strength. Plus, they’d been learning from Robert how best to apply their skills to different situations and could even act on their own every once in a while, which was particularly important at present, since Robert was effectively out of commission.  

Invisigal and Flambae looked briefly serious, clearly recognising that Chase's words were a sign that a measure of trust was being placed in them; that temporary understanding was promptly interrupted by Prism’s loud complaining.  

“-turn up at a stupid hour, and he’s not even here! Hey, Chase!”  

Sonar, whose ear she’d just been yelling into, tilted his head away from her as they approached. “Damn, can you lower your-” 

“Where the hell is Robert, huh? We haven’t been sent on a single mission all morning! The fuck are we doing here?” 

Chase was already tired of doing this explanation thing. He jabbed a finger down at the top of Robert’s head and watched the shock of the revelation spreading over the faces of the two newcomers.  

“Someone took a good nineteen years of life from him so we’re stuck with this little shit until Blazer can track down Tempo. I’d tell you to consider this a day off but we’ll need the lot of you here once we find her. And stop fuckin’ yelling!” 

“What the fuck are you?” Robert exhaled, awe-stricken, at the sight of Sonar. “A bat. Can you fly? Do you sleep upside down?” 

“That’s Robert?” Prism asked, voice squeaky.  

Invisigal laughed, patting the top of Robert’s head. “What, you don’t recognise him? Is it the lack of bruises or the light in his eyes?” 

“Wait.” Robert interrupted, smacking Invisigal’s hand away as he turned back to stare up at Chase. “I’m supposed to be grown up? Like, I time travelled?” 

“Uh, sure.” 

Chase did not want to waste any more time on explaining than he already had. Robert, at least, seemed mollified by this. His eyes grew progressively wider until they looked about ready to pop out of his head, and he tangled a fist tightly into Chase’s shirt. “And… I work here? So I really do become a superhero?” 

He looked far too damn excited about it for Chase to crush his spirit with the nasty details, so he just swallowed and nodded. With a whoop, Robert bounced nearly a foot in the air, shaking Chase so hard that he felt something pop in his hip.  

“Alright, kid, you-” 

“That’s so cool! So cool!” 

“Oh. Wow.”  

Blazer was peaking over Chase’s shoulder, staring down at Robert, who had frozen with awe for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. Chase ruffled his hair, unable to contain his fondness. “Yeah, yeah, he’s adorable, so I’ve heard. You get anywhere with Tempo?” 

“Possibly. I wanted to discuss it with you. Maybe the Z-Team can watch Robert for a bit?” 

“I don’t need to be watched over.” Robert whined, crossing his arms over his chest. His frown was clearly an imitation of his father, but its potency was offset by his pout. Chase snorted.  

“So you don’t wanna hang out with a bunch’a superheroes?” 

He watched Robert do the calculations, posture softening as he thought. Then, with a haughty upturn of his chin, he shrugged. “Well, I guess I’m just a kid.” 

Too easy, Chase thought, sending a brief prayer to any deity that might be listening for Robert not to idolise the Z-Team too much. Chase wasn’t sure how much of this, if anything, he’d remember in the long term, but it seemed like a bad idea nonetheless. He mollified himself with the hope that it wouldn’t take long for Blazer to lay out what she had, and he’d be done with plenty of time to mediate.  

So, he waved Robert off towards the increasingly-curious Z-Team and tailed Blazer back to her office.

Chapter Text

Robert took his time exploring the break room. He spotted Twinkies in the vending machine and carefully noted the detail; he’d have to get his hands on those. 

One of the superheroes Chase had introduced him to had sat down at a big table in the corner, so Robert hurried over to join her, bracing both arms across the table. “Okay. What’s your thing?” 

She cocked an eyebrow at him, rocking back in her seat. With a little ripple of purple, she vanished completely. Robert gasped, searching the empty space for any hint of her presence, but there was nothing to be found until a moment later when she rematerialised, a grin on her pink-painted lips.  

“Holy shit! That’s awesome! You have full control over that?” 

She shrugged a shoulder. “If I hold my breath. They call me Invisigal.” 

“Oh, weird.” Robert twisted in his seat. “Then what about you?” 

“I’m Flambae.” Announced the tallest guy, pulling a theatrical pose. He was huge, wearing a slightly goofy low-cut flame-decorated suit. Robert didn’t have to guess what his power was, but it still made Robert want to cheer a little—fire spilled out over Flambae’s hands, licking up his forearms. “And I control the flame.” 

“That’s crazy cool. Do you set shit on fire while you sleep by accident? Like, like sleepwalking?” 

Flambae gave him a judgemental look. “Uh, no.” 

Robert pivoted again, increasingly thrilled, to face the bat guy expectantly.  

“Sonar. And yes, I sleep upside down.” 

Robert gathered his legs up beneath him, kneeling so he could lean further over the table. Sonar was honestly a little creepy; seeing the human emotional range on a giant bat head was sure to freak anyone out, but Robert had never really met a human-animal hybrid before, and his curiosity was killing him. His mind ran through a billion questions too quickly for him to decide which one was most important to ask, so he just heaved himself further onto the table to better study the weird, pale glassiness of his eyes.  

“Do you eat bugs and fruit?” 

“Yup. And rats.” 

“Gross.” Robert laughed, then turned to the only person he’d yet to speak to and couldn’t help a little sigh. Among all of the superheroes in the room, she was by far the one who looked most like one. Cool though they all were, she was clearly a superhero among hot topic cashiers, finance bro furries, and WWE competitors.  

“Prism.” She introduced herself, flicking her pink-and-teal bob over her shoulders. “Wanna see something sick, Robbie?” 

Robert didn’t even hesitate, nodding his head so hard he almost fell off his seat. Prism cocked a hip and whirled her hands around her; a moment later, a near-perfect copy of her appeared over her shoulder, striking a pose. There wasn’t a single flaw in it—the doppelganger looked as real as she did.  

“You can clone?” He asked, breathless.  

“I control light, baby. She’s just a hologram.” Prism threw her arm out, and it cut straight through the clone like she was a ghost. The clone-Prism even made an offended face, raising both fists as though to fight before dispersing completely.  

Robert cackled, pounding a hand on the table. “Can you make loads? Like, hundreds?” 

“The more I make, the less real they look.” She clarified. “But, yeah. I can.” 

Robert could hardly believe he’d be able to work with these people in the future. He’d been born without any sort of powers, and definitely couldn’t do anything as cool as they could, but the thought that he’d be able to stand at their sides at some point in the future was so intoxicating that he didn’t even particularly care.  

So what if he needed a suit like Mechaman? So long as he could be a superhero with a bunch of other awesome superheroes, nothing else mattered. Who needed powers anyway? 

“Hold on. I always thought you fucked up your ear in the field.” Invisigal interrupted, leaning forwards to study him more closely. “How come it’s like that when you’re a kid?” 

“Oh. It was my fault.” Robert unfolded his legs out from beneath him, dropping back into his seat. He pressed a finger to the smooth, scarred edge of the injury, tracing the perfectly round shape of it. It didn’t hurt anymore, though it sometimes tingled a little at weird moments.  

“Not what I asked.”  

Robert huffed. “I was messing around with my dad’s suit. He said it was fine but I guess I hit the wrong button ‘cause it fired a laser at me. Chase got me out of the way, but it clipped my ear, that’s all.” 

“Damn. And you ain’t scared of that suit?” Prism asked, resting her hip against the table.  

Robert firmly shook his head. “It was my fault, not the suit’s. Dad was so mad.” 

“I bet.” Flambae scoffed. “Why have something so dangerous just laying around? Crazy.” 

“...No.” Frowning, Robert folded his arms atop the table. “Mad at me. I spoiled the party, and Chase fell out with dad for a bit ‘cause he wouldn’t take me to the hospital. I told you- it was my fault.” 

For a long while, everyone just looked at him. Robert was briefly satisfied that he’d managed to clarify the situation for them, but it wasn’t until he saw the genuine horror echoed in all of their expressions that it clicked; they didn’t agree with him at all.  

It frustrated him. “What’s that look for? Dad told me to be careful and I wasn’t. And it was a laser. It c- caurt- whatever, it stopped it from bleeding. It only hurt a bit, and my hearing came back after a few days. It only screeches sometimes, now.” Robert pressed two fingers to his ear again.  

In fact, it had hurt a lot at the time. He’d felt the heat of it slice past his eye, the brightness leaving patterns dancing across his vision. The sharp bite of the laser into skin had dulled to a migraine which had lasted right through to the morning, not to mention the arm he’d busted getting rescued by Chase, but Robert had put on a brave face. He didn’t want his dad to fall out with Chase because then he would stop coming over to take care of him, and he didn’t want to have to go to the hospital because it would just ruin the party even more and his dad would be twice as mad.  

Besides, he’d been careless. He paid the consequences and that was that.  

“Is it just me or does this guy get more tragic the more I get to know him?” Sonar mused aloud, to a chorus of agreements. Robert frowned.  

“How am I ‘tragic’?” 

“You’re a miserable son of a bitch as an adult, by the way.” Flambae prodded at his arm. “Like, truly, people feel sad just looking at you. Everyone was sad before because you seemed like a happy kid, so we were all thinking ‘oh wow, the weight of life really got to this guy’.” 

“Right, but now we can see that you were pretty much doomed from the offset.” Invisigal sighed. She kicked at Robert’s chair, making it squeak against the lino; he glared at her, increasingly annoyed by all of the poking and prodding.  

He felt… examined. And he didn’t like it.  

But… an idea filtered into his head. Robert had long since figured out how to make pity work for him. It was super effective against Chase, who made a big deal out of being unmoved by Robert’s puppy-dog eyes but couldn’t quite keep himself from crumbling at the first sight of them.  

All he had to do was pout a bit, make a sort of sniffling noise, and next thing he knew his hands were full of his favourite snacks and Chase was shoving something R rated into his hands and making him promise he wouldn’t tell his dad. If he was lucky, Chase wouldn’t even fuss and complain when Robert pretended to fall asleep on him halfway through. He’d just comb Robert’s hair out of his eyes and sigh, dialling the volume down.  

And Robert’s mind was still on those Twinkies. So, he slumped back in his seat, bringing his shoulders up to his ears and glaring at the surface of the table, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I’m gonna be miserable?” He asked in a very small voice.  

Someone made a pained noise, and Flambae clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Holy fuck, shut your tiny mouth. Are you hungry? You should eat something. What do you like eating?” 

Perfect. Adults always defaulted to food in the face of a sad child. It was practically guaranteed to make a weepy kid smile. Robert peered up at him as sadly as possible, shrugging. “I don’t have any money or anything.” 

“Gah.” Flambae grumbled. He’d been carrying a little satchel earlier, and left it slung over the back of his seat. Robert had figured it was a substitute for the pockets which couldn’t possibly fit into his skin-tight suit and was proven right when Flambae stuck a hand in and fished out a paper bill. “Just get something from the vending machine.” 

It wouldn’t do to look too happy too quickly. That always made people suspicious. So, Robert attempted a shy smile and took the bill carefully, pretending to be a little awed by the amount in his hands. Then, he slid from his seat, brimming with glee over his victory.  

So these guys were just as easy to scam money out of as Chase. Nice to know. He was just tapping in the numbers for the Twinkies when the door opened with a click, and Chase stepped in with his tall hero friend.  

The moment Chase saw Robert trying to subtly collect his winnings, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, which one’a you dumbasses gave him that money?” 

Shamelessly, Robert pointed at Flambae. “He did. He’s my favourite!” 

Flambae jolted like he’d been slapped, and the others jeered at him lightly, but Chase only stepped up to clap a hand to the top of Robert’s head and rattle him. He jabbed a finger at Flambae. “You’re a damn idiot. Let me guess, he looked so sad you just had to buy him something? You think this shit doesn’t know what he’s doing? You’ve been fuckin’ conned.” 

“Shut up!” Robert hissed, still fairly sure he could trick them out of a bit more money if he really tried, but Chase just shook him again, unthreatened.  

“Then that shit about his dad-” Prism began, seeming vaguely irritated, but Chase waved her off.  

“If he was telling you how much of a prick he was, then it was probably true. You just made the fool mistake of showing him pity.” He patted Robert’s head, not even slightly guilty about ruining Robert’s grift, then jabbed a thumb at the superhero he’d come in with. “Go with her. I gotta speak to these dipshits.” 

“Speak about what?” Robert asked, feathers ruffled. “I wanna know.” 

“Hey, Robert. I’m Blazer, and I’ve got something really cool to show you.” The superhero—Blazer—interrupted, bending down a bit to be closer to his level. Her voice was weird, like she was speaking to someone way younger than him, and Robert shared a short, sceptical look with Chase.  

Chase just shoved him away. “Now that we’re rid of that conniving little brat-” 

“I’m not-” Robert tried to argue, but Chase’s shove had put him in Blazer’s range, and she caught the hand that wasn’t clutching his hard-earned Twinkies and pulled him out of the room. He relented at the door, tugging his hand away. He wasn’t a baby. And he needed both hands to open the packaging.  

Blazer didn’t seem to mind. “You like the team, then?” 

“Sure. They’re… easy to manipulate.”  

She let out a surprised laugh. “Really? I always found them tricky to corral, but I guess that’s what I hired you for. How are you feeling?” 

Robert shrugged, taking a big bite out of his Twinkie to avoid having to answer.  

He wasn’t sure there was an answer. Everything was very new and strange, and the thought that all of these people only knew him as some grumpy old man was pretty difficult to wrap his head around. The only person he’d met so far that he actually knew was Chase, and he looked so totally different. It was difficult to adjust to.  

Robert didn’t know how to articulate any of that, so he kept it simple. “Fine. This place is super cool.” 

Blazer laughed softly, patting his back. “Yeah, your team has improved a lot with your help. Everyone would be lost without you.” 

It was a nice thought, even if Robert struggled to imagine it. He wasn’t a leader like his dad, and he wasn’t as charismatic as Chase. He wasn’t as clever as Eliott nor as strong as the other superheroes his dad worked with. He didn’t even have any powers.  

But Blazer said it like she meant it, so he had no choice but to believe her.  

“How did you get Flambae to pay for your food?” 

“It’s easy. Grown ups always buy you food when you’re sad. I got Chase to buy me beer once ‘cause I’d been crying.” Robert could only laugh at the memory in hindsight.  

Most of the time, he could numb himself to the upset of having his dad not being around. It was normal to him; he didn’t know anything else. But sometimes it caught up with him, usually when he’d been watching TV or reading a book that had something about a kid spending time with their dad. The idea of leaning up against him on the couch and falling asleep on his shoulder, or having his dad carry him on his shoulders so he could see over the crowd at a game, that sort of thing… Robert wanted it, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didn’t.  

And it had hit him all at once, out of literally nowhere, and he hadn’t been able to distract himself before the tears were falling. He’d been so embarrassed, but Chase had been nice about it, ribbing him until he was laughing again, but Robert knew that it was only because Chase pitied him. Pity was what kept Chase saying yes when his dad asked if he’d babysit.  

Pity stung, it made Robert feel like the crying ass bitch Chase accused him of being, so he figured out how to use it to his advantage.  

And even if he’d choked on the bitter drink and had to wash the taste away with a full box of Twinkies, the gesture had meant a lot. He felt happy when he thought back on it, rather than sad, which he supposed meant that Chase had done exactly what he meant to.  

“So, you’re a superhero, right? What’re your powers?” 

“Well,” Blazer hummed, “I can fly. I can make energy blasts too.” 

“Sick. Do we fight together then? When I grow up?” 

“Not exactly. Maybe in the future.” 

Robert allowed himself to be shuffled into an elevator, and they began to descend. “In the future?” 

“I’ll explain once you’ve seen the cool thing I want to show you.”  

Busy with his Twinkie, Robert didn’t pay much attention to the dim corridor they stepped out onto, and he was just shoving the crumpled packaging into his pocket when Blazer stopped and reached over him to push open the heavy door.

Chapter Text

Robert seemed to ignite at the sight of the Mechaman suit. Mandy couldn’t help but feel a bit nauseous at the sight; this pure, unadulterated enthusiasm and adoration was so very foreign on Robert’s face. 

She’d gotten accustomed to the hope, though it had always been dim and a bit desperate. Sometimes Robert looked at it with abject misery, some frustration, maybe some impatience.  

But when young Robert saw it through the glass, dark and immobile, he lit up with love. He sprang through the open door fast enough to rival Track Star in his prime and scrambled up onto the table in front of it with gangly limbs to press both hands and his nose to the screen, as though he couldn’t be close enough to it.  

Mandy followed him at a more sedate pace, nodding to Royd, who had emerged from the shadows looking slightly frantic as his peace was broken by a hyper energetic little kid. He relaxed a bit at the sight of her, but still looked tense, as though poised to escort the brat from the premises at the first sign of trouble.  

“Royd, this is Robert. Yes, that Robert. This is temporary. Robert, this is Royd. He’s our mechanic.” 

“Uh, what in the-” Royd began, flummoxed, but Robert was running at a million miles an hour and seemed to have lost all measure of patience.  

“Mechanic. You’re fixing it? Can I see? Can I help? But wait, it’s damaged? Why? What happened? It looks different. Are you changing it? Does dad want it changed? Wait, why isn’t dad fixing it? Usually dad fixes it himself so why would he-” 

“Robert.” Mandy chastised. “Slow down. It got damaged in a fight, but your dad didn’t bring it in. You did.” 

“Me?” Robert twisted around from his precarious perch on the desk, frowning. He kept one hand firm to the glass. “It’s- it’s mine? Where’s dad?” 

Mandy suspected that Chase wouldn’t want her to tell Robert this, and part of her agreed that it was likely an unnecessary hurt for a kid who would essentially be gone as soon as they pinned Tempo down. But Tempo was slippery and difficult, and Blazer had learned not to put her hopes and worries in the reckless hands of the Z-Team, no matter how much they seemed to be improving.  

If this Robert was sticking around for any measure of time, he was bound to have questions about his father in a way that would become very difficult to answer very quickly.  

Mandy just wanted to rip the band-aid off. She swallowed against her guilt. “He passed away. You became Mechaman. You carried on his legacy.” 

Robert just blinked at her for a few seconds, processing that information. Then he nodded. “Alright. Can I go inside? Since it’s mine?” 

That… wasn’t much of a reaction at all. Mandy was baffled, and Royd looked as confused as she did, but neither of them could think of a reason to say no. Mechaman was powered down and harmless, so it wasn’t much of a risk to the suit or to Robert. And maybe it would help him feel closer to his father, too.  

Royd opened the sealed door and Robert puttered in, glancing around the busy workshop with fascination before standing at Mechaman’s feet. He touched his fingers reverently to the scuffed blue metal, then found the latch for the cockpit with familiar ease. It popped open with a hiss and a plume of steam.  

He stepped on the boot for height then flung himself into the suit's open stomach, scrambling up into the seat. He had to stretch a bit to get his hands on the controls, and his feet couldn’t reach the stirrups beneath him, but there was still a peculiar rightness to seeing him in there. The suit had been Robert’s home for a great many years. Part of him and part of Mechaman were now reunited. It seemed like the first step on the long, twisting, arduous journey to their goal of making the man Mecha once again.  

A little wary, Mandy stepped up to the open suit, trying to look for traces of sadness on Robert’s face, but he really didn’t seem too shaken. He was smiling slightly, making subtle shooting noises as he pressed the trigger button with his thumb.  

“Are you alright? I’m sorry for dropping this on you. I didn’t want to lie.” 

Robert shrugged. “He always said he wanted to die in the suit, so, it’s fine.” 

Mandy was a bit blindsighted by that. “You’re not… sad?” 

“Well, I get sad about him not being around sometimes. Like, being a superhero matters to him more than I do, but that’s fine, you know? I’m allowed to be sad, so long as I don’t make a big deal of it.” He let go of the controls, tucking his hands between his thighs. “But if he’s dead then that’s a pretty good reason not to hang out with me. I can probably forgive him for that.” 

Robert smiled ruefully, but Mandy’s chest hurt a bit. That was a lot of mental gymnastics to avoid feeling any grief, but it also freed him from feeling any anger or any hurt. She supposed that ‘dad’s not here because he’s working’ and ‘dad’s not here because he’s dead’ amounted to very little difference in the world of a ten year old boy who couldn’t quite get past the ‘dad’s not here’ part.  

It wasn’t like the love wasn’t there. It was just another early sign of where Robert’s emotional defense mechanisms got their start.  

“‘Sides, I’m a grown up now, right? I have a team. Dad always said the team was like his family, so you guys are mine.” He grinned then, revealing the gap at the edge of his smile.  

He was so very fucking young.  

Mandy smiled back. “That’s right. So you don’t need to worry about tricking people into buying you food anymore. You only have to ask.” 

He chewed on his lip. “Can I get another Twinkie?” 

“Sure.” Mandy scoffed, offering a hand to help him out of the suit. He had another billion questions for Royd, who answered them as precisely as he could, even if Robert didn’t really get the technical terminology that well. Royd even scooped him up to show him around a patch of exposed wiring on the top of Mechaman’s head, which had Robert squealing and giggling.  

He was just starting to wilt a bit, clearly tuckered out, when Mandy jumped in to remind him that Twinkies were waiting for him. He gladly followed her out of the shop and back up to the office, though they were waylaid halfway back to the breakroom by the last remnants of the Z-Team, now waiting eagerly for Robert’s arrival.  

It was clear they’d already been clued in, because they were blatantly curious about Robert and Punch Up broke into a loud round of cheering at the first sight of him.  

“Where are the others?” Mandy asked, trapping Robert behind her so they had no choice but to answer.  

“They’re after Tempo. Visi did some reconnaissance and found out that she was injured and licking her wounds alone, so they figured they could catch her off guard pretty easily. They promised to call if they needed backup.” Malevola explained, casually slinging her blade over one shoulder. “But we had to take the opportunity to see our favourite dispatcher first.” 

Robert’s waning energy was forgotten almost instantly at the sight of Malevola and Golem. He could hardly draw his eyes away from Malevola’s sword, even as he poked at Golem, smearing mud all over his hands. Mandy watched with fascinated amusement as they hurried to entertain him, his intense enthusiasm charming them within an instant.  

Malevola opened a portal into the break room for him. Mandy bought him his Twinkies and he devoured them as he listened with rapt attention to Punch Up’s stories about the tourneys he’d participated in, most of which he’d won. Privately, Mandy wasn’t sure it was a good idea to recount those sorts of details to a kid, but Robert looked so very happy.  

It was hard to say when he would next be happy like that, totally unrestrained and bright. Mandy watched, quiet with pity. This boy might be gone by tomorrow morning, replaced by a version of Robert who had been buffeted by the world until he was bruised and curled in on himself, defending his vulnerable parts from blows which hadn’t yet landed.  

When he laughed, it was short and quiet. He couldn’t open up about his thoughts and feelings without a thick veneer of irony to disguise them, and even then, it took a concussion and a night of drinking just to get the words out of his mouth.  

Mandy tried to imagine an adult Robert who hadn’t lost the light from his eyes. Maybe he’d have needed a better father, or at least one who was still alive. He’d have needed to rely on the people around him instead of the Mechaman suit when the grief consumed him. He’d need an apartment which wasn’t bare and grey with nothing more than a bottle-green lawn chair in it, and a job which didn’t serve to remind him that his single life mission was outside of his reach, yet constantly shoved in his face by people who didn’t seem willing to use their gift like they should.  

Or, maybe, he just needed some family. Maybe Robert was already part way there.  

Mandy hadn’t known Robert in the aftermath of his father’s death, nor the decade that had passed where he dedicated his existence to Mechaman. But she’d seen the footage from the press conference after he woke up from his coma, where he’d looked small and fragile and riddled with old, green bruises. He’d looked and sounded lifeless, a flat affect echoing through thirty microphones held up to his pallid, sickly face.  

He’d slammed a reporter to the ground and kicked his face in. They’d dragged him out eventually, and he’d let them, going limp in their grasp.  

Mandy had known right then and there that she had to find a way to help him. It could probably be blamed on a long-honed instinct to be the hero, or a feeling of community with a fellow superhero who was having a tough time. Either way, she was impossibly glad that she’d done it.  

Naively, though, Mandy had sort of thought she was fixing him. By returning hope and purpose to Robert, she could give him a shot at being whole again. For a while, she’d believed that she’d made a huge difference; compared to the ghost of a man who stood on that stage, who threw fists at the first wrong word, Robert had practically transformed.  

Mandy had to wonder now if he’d just returned to his solemn baseline. Robert could be happier—the proof was right in front of her eyes.  

He’d stepped on Punch Up’s shoulders, and with a hand from Malevola’s tail, he clambered onto Golem’s back. From there, he sank his knees into the malleable clay and held his arms out wide, whooping and cheering as Golem swung around and around.  

Well, Golem was strong enough. He could probably do that to adult Robert too. Mandy smirked as she mentally noted that down, but was distracted from her scheming by a beep in her in-ear.  

“We got her.” 

– 

For some ungodly reason, Robert was a muddy mess, which made Chase hugely regret ever leaving him with the Z-Team. He was curled up on his office chair, picking drying flakes of clay out from under his nails as Blazer finished negotiating with Tempo.  

Chase had interrogated her as soon as she was caught. Royd had come up with a nifty little gag which muffled her voice but reproduced it with a vocoder, so she could answer questions without being able to actually use her powers.  

It had been a coincidence that she picked Robert, ultimately. ‘People like him don’t care about dying’. That had been how she explained it. The fucker had thought he was an easy mark, but she’d changed her tune when Robert landed a punch on her throat and fucked up her voice.  

It had taken her a moment to realise that her singing was doing the opposite of what she meant it to, and she’d booked it the moment she caught on, leaving Robert to find his own way.  

Chase was still a bit pissed off, but he was enough of a grown up to hand it off to Blazer. They still had to find a way to fix Robert, and Blazer was their best shot at convincing her to do it willingly, even if Chase secretly maintained that they ought to just beat it out of her.  

When he got the call, he led Robert to the specialised holding cells. The whole Z-Team were gathered in the hallway, no doubt gossiping amongst themselves, and Blazer waved Chase over when she spotted him. “She agreed.” 

Chase exhaled, relieved. He turned to Robert, taking a brief moment to examine him.  

Pale and a bit too skinny, freckled and missing a chunk out of his ear, with big doe-eyes and a faint smile on his face, he linked his hands behind his back politely and waited to be told what to do. He’d always been such a good kid, a good person, even when by all rights he should have been a little miscreant. His dad’s perpetual absence could well have turned him into a horrible shit who acted out to get attention, but it never did.  

Chase had gotten used to the swell of pride in his stomach so strong that it made him nauseous, but it took on a bit of a nostalgic twang this time. He really had considered Robert to be a pain in his ass when they were young. A good kid, sure, but also a stubborn and somewhat clingy one.  

It was only with the wisdom of age that he could see how a good kid had grown into a great man and, despite the fact that a ten-year-old Robert was far, far cuter, he was really looking forward to having that great man back.  

He planted a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “You ready, kid?” 

“Almost.” He grinned crookedly, showing off his gap tooth. “One last thing. You never told me why you’re so old.” 

Chase sighed. He’d hoped to keep that information to himself, aware that it was the sort of burden that no ten-year-old needed to be carrying, but assuming everything went well, this Robert would be back where he belonged shortly; sealed somewhere in an adult Robert’s psyche. One small truth couldn’t hurt.  

“It was all that running. Every time I did it, I aged quicker than I should have. Can’t run no more if I want to live a few more years.” 

The smile slid off Robert’s face in a blink. Chase could see him struggling to make sense of that, his eyes getting wider as he tried to reason it out. He didn’t doubt in the slightest that Robert was thinking of thrice-daily convenience store visits and late night emergency babysitting gigs, where Chase had been running around on the regular at Robert’s behest.  

He knew Robert well enough to know that the kid would feel guilty about it, did feel guilty about it, even as an adult. It was just that adult Robert would never bring that up by himself and Chase wasn’t the sort to break the peace for a heart-to-heart without being forced by circumstance.  

Little Robert, though, did not have those same self-defense tactics charged up and ready for use. “What?” His voice was thin. The moment he’d finished the word, his chin started wobbling. “But I… I made you-” 

“Kid, don’t be stupid. None of it is on you, alright? I’d have kept running no matter what. Don’t be a cryin’ ass bitch, now.” 

It was the truth. Even if he hadn’t done all of those runs to the shop for food or candy, it would only have bought him a couple more years as Track Star before his age caught up with him just the same. The difference would have been negligible to begin with, but that small amount had been well-spent on Robert’s happiness, as far as Chase was concerned. He had no regrets about that part, none at all.  

Completely heedless of Chase’s advice, Robert blinked as tears went rolling down his face. He didn’t sob, because he’d long since learned not to be so loud, but he flung himself into Chase’s arms, burying his face in the soft wool of his sweater.  

“I’m so sorry, I- I won’t make you run anymore. We’ll just w-walk to the shop from now on, okay? We’ll go together, I promise, it’s all my fault, I-” 

“Alright. That’s not true.” Chase let Robert sniffle against him, gently combing a hand through his soft auburn hair. “Alright. We’ll walk together. C’mon, kid, pull yourself together.” 

Robert had never brought it up as an adult, but Chase wasn’t blind. Alright, he was slightly blind, but not blind enough to miss the way Robert’s jaw tightened every time Chase complained about his arthritis or his bad back. He made the same face at the mention of the decade he’d spent failing to pick up the damn phone. 

Chase was glad that Robert had gotten this, even if only for a while. Being unburdened by that guilt, by the grief and the difficulty of living beneath all of it. The reprieve was brief, but it was there nonetheless.  

Reluctantly, Robert pulled away from him, leaving muddy handprints smeared on Chase’s sweater. His whole face had gone pink, and he was still sniffling, those big sad eyes shiny with tears, but he looked reserved and ready as he gathered himself. “M’kay. Let’s do this.” 

Chase felt like a dad sending his kid off to college watching Robert head towards the cell door. The kid was visibly nervous, but the Z-Team gathered around him in a rare show of camaraderie to pat his back and cheer him on as he shuffled into the room. Chase followed him, pausing at the open door to glare at Tempo, who no longer wore her gag, but was leant back against the far wall with a dirty look on her face.  

“Is it safe?” Robert asked tentatively, looking up at Chase. Chase, who had no idea, looked at Blazer. She smiled, ruffling Robert’s hair.  

“Absolutely. I promise.” 

“If I see a baby or an old man in this room next time I open the door, I’m setting your ass on fire. Clear?” Chase threatened, just in case.  

She nodded. Hesitant, and with a final reassuring nod to a tense Robert, Chase closed the sound-proof door.  

He tilted his head towards Blazer. “How’d you win her over?” 

“I know a few functionally immortal folks who were willing to donate her a few years every so often. Though, she’s getting mandated therapy sessions to deal with her fear of aging.” She smirked at Chase. “Maybe you could benefit from attending together.” 

“Fuck that. You think she’d lend me some years too?” 

Blazer scoffed. “Feel free to ask.” 

Chase didn’t feel too confident about that. There was only a small square of glass revealing the inside of the room; he watched Tempo open her mouth, but heard nothing from it. A subtle light enveloped Robert and instantly became a blaze so bright that it hurt to look right at it.  

Heart in his throat, Chase squinted and pressed his face as close to the small window as he could, waiting for the moment of the reveal—and as the light began to dim, the very twenty-nine year old Robert Robertson was standing in its place.  

Chase cursed, flinging open the door. Robert stumbled backwards until he collided with Chase, who guided him back into the corridor. Blazer spared him a brief pat on the arm before ducking into the cell with Tempo and closing the door behind them, probably to iron out the clauses of her employment.  

Robert looked pale. “I need to…” He grumbled, rocking back against the wall and then sinking down it, legs folded up in front of him. “Fuck.” 

“How much you remember, kid?” Chase prodded, officially concerned. Maybe it was a trick of his memory, what with him having gotten used to seeing baby Robert’s rosy complexion, but Chase couldn’t help but think that Robert looked even sicker than he usually did.  

Robert shook his head, then pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “All of it. Got… a lotta memories flooding in all at once. God, this fucking sucks.” 

Feeling sympathetic, Chase gently massaged the base of Robert’s neck, waiting for him to recover. Notably less sympathetic, Flambae scoffed. “So. I’m your favourite?” 

Robert groaned.  

“Glad you think we’re all so cool.” 

“Yeah, you’ve really boosted our ego’s, lad.” 

“Which is just what y’all fuckin’ needed.” Chase hissed. “Don’t listen to ‘em. We can humble ‘em again later.” 

Scoffing, Robert nodded seriously, tilting his face up at Chase. “Alright. But I’m so fucking tired. I need a coffee, like, yesterday.”

Chapter Text

“Hey.”

Robert considered, very briefly, turning to look at who had interrupted his midday pity party. That required lifting his head from where it was planted against the cold surface of the bench, though, so he discarded the idea altogether and just groaned a reply into the fake marble.  

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who it was. Chase and Blazer had collaborated very kindly on side-tracking the curious Z-Teamers to give him a chance to drink his coffee in relative peace, but it was inevitable that some of them would slip through the cracks. Besides, if it was going to be anyone, it would be Visi; he’d distinctly heard the gentle susurrus of her powers as she reappeared.  

The voice, though, belonged to Flambae, which definitely meant that Prism had used her incredible powers of redirection to help him sneak off. Every member of the team delighted in pissing him off to no end, but these two were the most dogged about it. If it was going to be anyone, it was going to be those two.  

“Chase said you were a manipulative kid.” 

It was true enough. When Robert got bored being home alone, he put on a pathetic voice and told Chase he was scared of the dark. It worked every time, even when he was way too old to get away with it for anyone else. The only person he’d never quite been able to trick was his dad.  

Still, out of Visi’s mouth, it sounded a lot like an insult. He sighed, resting his cooled forehead on the pillow of his crossed arms so he could peer at the duo out of one eye.  

They were both standing near the breakroom door, arms crossed over their chests like parents confronting their drunk, curfew-breaking teenage son. He scoffed.  

“Yeah, I was a pain in the ass. You here to lecture me on it? ‘Cause you’re about two decades too late.” 

“He said that you had to learn how to trick people into giving you what you want, ‘cause nobody ever had the forethought to give you what you need. That sound about right?” 

Robert was going to have a talk with Chase about the psychoanalysing. Or, more importantly, about the sharing of said psychoanalysis with the members of his team. He sighed. “No. I had everything I needed. I wanted more. I grew out of it. Does this matter?” 

“Uh, yeah?” Visi snapped, cocking one hip. “It’s clearly a continuing issue.” 

Robert straightened, a little annoyed. “You think I’m manipulative?” 

“We know you’re manipulative. You’re very good at it. Everyone knows when you’re manipulating them and it still works. That’s called skill, Bobbo.” Flambae crossed the room to lean back against the countertop next to Robert at the same time Visi pulled up a backwards chair to drape herself across. Together, they neatly hemmed him in. “You just changed your goal.” 

“My goal?” 

“So you used to use manipulation to get people to take care of you. Now you use it to make everyone else be better people. For the good of the team! Or whatever. But now it means that not only is no one taking care of you for the sake of it, but you’re not even tricking them into it!” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” Robert argued, refusing to bend beneath Visi’s heavy glare. “I’m a grown man. And I refuse to apologise for… ‘tricking’ you into having empathy.” 

Flambae swatted at his head. “We’re not mad at that, you stupid shit. Loath though I am to admit it, your dumb heroic mind tricks have made us into better heroes, or whatever the fuck. We’re only here to tell you that shit’s gonna change.” 

Well, that was terrifying. “Change how?” 

“Change, like, we’re gonna change. You were the one who told Blazer that team is family, right?” Fuck, Robert had totally said that. Cringe. “And family takes care of each other, even when they’re not being tricked into it. So, get ready to get taken care of. Bitch.” 

“I don’t need-” 

“We’re not asking!” Flambae snapped, reaching out to smack him again. Robert dodged it this time, batting away the offending limb before it could clip him. “Can you just shut up and say ‘thank you’? Honestly! You are the least grateful little-” 

“Do you want me to shut up or say ‘thank you’? I can’t do both, see, because saying ‘thank you’ requires talking which is the opposite of-” 

“My god, can you two quit with the pillow talk?” Visi cut in, eyes rolling. “This enemies-to-lovers stuff is charming, it really is, but I spent my morning babysitting and my afternoon villain-hunting. I’m way too tired. Just nod to show you’ve understood.” 

Robert had very little else to say. He had no idea what ‘taking care’ actually entailed when it involved a team of ex-super villains and a fully-grown adult man, but the thought inspired as much fondness in him as it did dread.  

His head was still pounding, and his chest felt hot with embarrassment at all of the stupid things he’d said and done, but he had to admit that things… probably could have gone way worse.  

Robert was just starting to feel a bit warm and fuzzy when the door burst open in a whirl of blue and yellow, followed by the clatter of a mop handle against the door frame. Waterboy squeezed into the room inelegantly, drawing to a sharp halt when he realised it was still occupied. He went a bit red.  

“Ah. I- I heard that sir- Mr Robert was- had turned into- into little- a child. You seem- look fine… though?”  

Someone had been assigned to a different floor for that day's shift. Small mercies.