Chapter Text
Logically, Robert knows that he's only in the SDN conference room. He's been in this room several times before. It was one of the first places he came to in the entire building when Blonde Blazer made him change from his suit (the fabric one, not the metal one) into his dispatcher uniform. This also makes it the first place he met Invisigal. Other than that, he's had several meetings in this room with various levels of the bureaucratic system. He's even given his team—the z-team—pep talks in this room to improve their behavior. So, with all that in mind, it's a very familiar, recognizable place.
"For the last damn time, I'm just telling you to stop lighting so many fucking fires while you're on route!"
Emotionally, though, this is room is the ninth circle of Hell that opened up especially for Robert. The devil himself led him inside and unleashed the worst of the worst torturers to make Robert question why he bothers going to work every single day.
"I am not the one lighting those fires," Flambae retorts. The former supervillain leans back in the chair on Robert's left. He's wearing those stupid sunglasses right now, but it's not like Robert needs them gone to know how Flambae is looking at him right now. He's argued enough times with this ill-tempered pyromaniac to figure it out.
"Of course, how could I possibly think that the guy covered in fire designs with a pun about cooking with fire as his name who also just so happens to have fire powers would be the one responsible for all the fires that conveniently happen while he's on route?"
Flambae's body twitches. Robert doesn't know if the man is about to smirk or punch his dispatcher in the face. Before either of these events can play out, Punch Up turns away from the conversation he was carrying out with Coupé to join the argument that has already caused a headache for Robert. "If the boy said he didn't do it, he didn't do it."
"Who are you calling boy?!" Flambae swivels around completely to face Punch Up. As much as Robert hopes Punch Up will back-down, the Irishman does not. The only upside is that, at least for the moment, the two are not physically fighting.
Everything else is a downside, though, so Robert sighs, dropping the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Now, the accents are fighting."
Invisigal reappears in the chair to Robert's right. She arches a brow as she looks up at him, eating a cookie that she likely stole from the break-room. "Did you just refer to them by the way they speak?" She hisses, face scrunching up like the genuinely believes she's telling him bad news. "Hate to break it to you, but that's an HR violation."
"You're an HR violation," Robert says, too busy rubbing away his headache—or trying to, anyway—to come up with a proper retort.
Prism, who was recording Flambae and Punch Up in case a fight did break out, looks up from her phone. She meets Robert's eyes through her own pair of tinted glasses (which, for the record, she looks cooler than Flambae does). "Ooo, someone's getting cancelled."
"I'm going to pretend that makes any amount of sense." Prism looks at him with disgust. Robert sighs, shaking his head. She decides he isn't worth the trouble, and Robert wonders why he hasn't made the same choice when it comes to this entire program.
When his headache is no longer threatening to kill him, he looks around the room to see where everyone else is at. Invisigal is still eating her cookie. Coupé looks ready to intervene with Flambae and Punch Up's fight if it suddenly becomes one-sided, and Prism is going to film the entire thing. Golem sits on the floor across the table, playing with what Robert thinks is a toy (did he steal it from the kid whose mother works here as another dispatcher?). Sonar and Malevola, at least, seem to be talking about whatever NA sponsors and sponsees talk about.
Robert slams his palm against the table. Although he's begging for his chronic pain to flare, he doesn't regret his decision when everyone freezes to look at him. Since he knows he won't have it long, he immediately says, "Can we go back to being productive at this meeting?"
"Are we ever productive?" Sonar asks in a way that's too genuine for Robert's liking.
"Meetings like this are a waste of time," Malevola adds when Robert doesn't have an answer for Sonar. She crosses her arms over the table, gold-orange eyes staring Robert down. "What do you need to say to us now that you couldn't say over the communication channel?"
Robert hesitates. He slumps into his chair, deciding to tell the truth. "I don't know. Ask Blonde Blazer. Or Chase. They're the ones who said I needed to do this."
"Don't send them my way."
Robert's tired eyes flick toward the conference room's door. Chase stands there, glaring at Robert like he just ordered the z-team to hunt Chase down or never let him see Beef again (both acts that seem equally heinous in Chase's eyes).
"Don't be like that, Chase, you know you love us." Prism sets her chin in her palm. The smile she shows Chase makes it clear that she, like everyone else, is aware of Chase's low opinion of the Phoenix Program and the z-team it spawned. At this point, though, Robert thinks that the team and Chase are starting to warm up to each other.
"I do not like any of your sorry asses."
As much as anyone in this room will admit to warming up to each other, anyway.
"What do you got, old man?" Invisigal asks, hooking her thumb toward the cardboard box Chase holds in both of his wrinkled hands. "Are you sure you're not going to break your back?"
"I'll break your fucking back," Chase responds, setting the box on the edge of the table between Robert and Invisigal. The sound it makes informs everyone in the room how heavy it is. Robert genuinely wonders how Chase was able to carry it in here without injuring himself.
Invisigal bats her eyes like an innocent maiden. "Is that a promise?"
"Down, girl," Robert tells her as he rises onto his feet. He reaches for the folds on the top of the box to uncover what's inside. Although the team as a whole usually acts aloof, Robert has been their dispatcher for long enough to know every single one of them is at least a little curious what inside this dust-covered box Chase brought them.
The giver in question stops glaring at Invisigal to bat Robert's hands away. The brunette frowns at his old babysitter. Chase pats the top of the box. "You said you wanted to bond with these shitheads more." Chase starts opening the box himself. "I also need to get revenge on you for a few things."
Once the box is open, Robert peers inside. Invisigal tries peeking over the side, and a few others—whether they know it or not—lean forward. Robert, however, slams the box closed before anyone can see anything. He hisses right in Chase's face. "What have I done that warrants this?"
"You want the list to be in alphabetical or chronological order?" Chase returns. Even though he's in the body of an old man, it doesn't take him much effort to knock Robert away from him. Helplessly, Robert collapses back into his chair, dropping his face into his hands. He would rather not, but he listens to his team verbally react to what they see in the box.
"What the fuck are these?" Invisigal whispers.
"Whoa. Those are so old," Sonar seems genuinely awed.
"'Bob's first play'," Prism reads out. She downright cackles. "We have to watch these!"
Robert looks between his fingers. When he sees his team gathered around the box, he asks himself why the z-team aren't still at odds with one another. He would much prefer them sabotaging each other than to see them agreeing that they all need to watch all the embarrassing moments Chase happened to catch on film back when he was carrying that ancient video recorder around in Robert's youth.
"This one first," Coupé declares, holding one of the cartridges between her fingers.
Chase grabs it before Robert can even reach for it. The old man squints at the words written in marker on the white tape pressed into the side. He starts patting around his neck. He suddenly looks up with an angry expression. "Which one of you fuckers stole my reading glasses?"
While Chase is trying to figure out who stole from him, Sonar takes the cartridge from Chase's hand. The bat-man walks to the newly installed computer and monitor and other technological bullshit that SDN put in for their 'favorite' branch. Robert tries praying that it'll be incompatible, but Sonar figures out a way to play the cartridge. To add salt to his wound, someone flicks the light off so that everyone can see the image landing on the far wall from the projector better.
"—give me a second, I'm trying to find the right angle."
Robert recognizes Chase's voice. It's from when he was younger, though, before his powers aged him.
He also recognizes what the video recorder was picking up at the time. The frame is shaky, but Robert knows his childhood home. Even after all these years, he remembers that the walls were a warm, buttery yellow (his mother painted them, apparently, before his born). He remembers how the table was stained (for as smart as his grandfather was, he had apparently forgotten what a person could and couldn't clean wood with). He remembers how there was a window right above the sink (it showed the yard Robert used to play in. It was that yard that inspired him to get a dog when he became an adult).
"I'd hurry up if I were you. Not sure how long I can keep him still."
There it is. Robert's father's voice. Robbie, as everyone but Robert called him.
The man is standing on the other side of the table from the video recorder (and Chase, who's holding the recorder). The man is currently trying to keep a little boy who looks similar to him from blowing out the candles of a cake laid out on the table. Someone else—another hero from the Brave Brigade—is still lighting all five of the candles. The kid, however, doesn't care about that. He's standing in the chair, trying to blow out the tiny flames even when Robbie is keeping him from doing that. The kid doesn't care in the slightest if the huge grin on his face is anything to go by.
"Aw, you were so cute when you were little," Prism coos. She glances over her shoulder, that same disgusted look from earlier on her face. "What happened?"
Robert rolls his eyes, deciding not to give that a response.
"Seriously, though, you were tiny," Invisigal whistles. "Can't believe you were a child once."
"Everyone was a child once," Robert argues.
"I wasn't," Golem interrupts with his neutral, deep voice.
Robert points at Golem. "Touche."
"There! That's all the candles! Are you good, Chase?"
"Got it!"
As if permission was given, everyone in the room begins singing happy birthday. The little boy stops trying to blow out the candles to look at everyone. His eyes are as wide as his smile.
Punch Up laughs, pointing at those eyes. "You could still see light!"
"Anyone want to take a guess what group of people caused that light to disappear?"
"Can't be us. The light was already gone when you came here," Sonar notes observationally. Instead of looking at the big screen, he looks at the computer screen right in front of him. The scene of Robert's younger self eagerly blowing out the candles reflects in his pure white eyes.
"He's got you there," Chase agrees. Robert gives him an unimpressed look. Chase shrugs, returning his attention to the footage from Robert's childhood. Having lived through those moments, Robert decides to look through the box. If there's something truly embarrassing, he needs to get rid of it before anyone else sees it.
"Do we only have one plate?"
There was only one plate. The birthday boy obviously got the first slice of cake. Based on the reactions from his team, Robert was a really messy eater when he was a child (some would argue he still is but Robert is not one of those people).
"…Daddy?"
"Ew." Someone utters.
Robert looks up. He doesn't know who said that, but he decides to speak loud enough for the whole room to hear him. "I was turning five."
"Just a minute, bud."
Robert watches the screen as the next events play out as he remembered them. Robbie set a hand on his son's shoulder without looking at him. He was busy trying to get more plates and utensils on the table so that everyone could have a slice of cake. His son's pleas for attention grew closer to silence and panic at the same time. His face was paling, and his eyelids were drooping, partially hiding how fuzzy his eyes were.
And then the little boy vomited. Robert winces at the noise. He coughs slightly, trying to rid himself of the metallic taste in his throat. He's spit up, coughed, and vomited blood many, many times since he was freshly five, but he will never forget that first experience, how jarring and uncomfortable it was.
"Oh, bud, did you eat too quickly?"
Robbie turns to his son. It's at this point he realizes there's blood covering his arm instead of vomit. His entire demeanor shifts in an instant. He dropped onto his knees, catching Robert as the boy fell off his chair. If it wasn't obvious before, the words he yells across the kitchen make it clear, "It's blood, Chase, call a fucking ambulance!"
"Wha—oh, shit!"
Chase had dropped the video recorder. As it falls, the video is blurry. Once it lands, however, everything becomes clear. Robbie holds Robert on the ground. Blood forms a puddle beneath them, leaking from lips that don't take in any air despite being parted.
"Come on, bud, stay awake. Listen to daddy, okay? Keep your eyes. Hey, hey, don't—no, Robert! Open your eyes! Hey! Are you—no, no, no—"
Robbie stood up quickly, lifting the unconscious boy with him. The video recorder shows nothing else except blood spreading across the kitchen floor. It does, however, record a few more noises. Other people are shouting in the house. A slamming door precedes a sudden, intense silence.
Malevola is the one to pause the video, doing it on the frozen Sonar's behalf. The entire room mirrors the silence from the video for several long seconds. Golem breaks it with a quiet, "Sorry, Robert."
The dispatcher snorts, busying himself with looking through the box again. "Don't be. That was actually the best birthday I ever had. Dad stayed with me my entire hospital visit."
It was probably the last time he and Robbie spent a few complete days together.
The silence wants to threaten them again, but Invisigal suddenly appears in front of Robert. She grabs the cartridge he was reading the title of ('Interview') over and over again in hopes of remembering what it was. She carries it over to the computer, shoving it at Sonar. The bat-man takes it but doesn't do anything until the former villainess states, "We can't that one be the last one we watch. There must be a funny way somewhere in that box."
Sonar looks up at Robert. The dispatcher shrugs. Hesitantly, Sonar puts the new cartridge in and makes the video start working. As before, the video starts playing, but with a noticeable increase in quality.
Chase stands in front of the camera, so close that his face fills the entire frame.
Flambae crosses his arms over his chest, "Who's this ugly shit?"
"Me, motherfucker," The Chase of the present declares, pulled from his own memories of Robert's fifth birthday from his anger. As much as Robert is glad this happened, he really doesn't want an effectively de-powered Chase fighting Flambae… or any of z-team, really, but it's bound to happen eventually.
Chase moves backward away from the camera. His hands are still stretched out, ready to grab the device if it suddenly falls. When it doesn't, he plops himself into a spinning chair he'd set up. There's another chair beside him. A younger Robert sits in it with a paper in his tiny fingers. The quality of the video suddenly makes less sense because the Robert in the video is older by two or three years from the birthday video, making the recorder older.
"Well, go on," Chase whispers, kicking the leg of Robert's chair with his foot.
"You have a bad habit of that," Robert whispers, realizing that Chase still does that.
"How else should I get you to pay attention?"
"Call my name?"
Chase snorts. "Like that's going to work."
"I am Robert Robertson! I am going to interview Track Star today!" Robert chirps excitedly.
"Why is a child interviewing you?" Coupé asks.
"I was trying to practice," Chase defends himself.
"You need a lot more practice," Prism shakes her head.
"I also needed to distract this one." Chase points at Robert with his thumb. "I was his babysitter, and he was my worst fucking nightmare. But I managed to keep him from causing trouble, as you can see."
"I wonder who taught me to cause all of that trouble."
Chase hums. At the same time, there are a few people in the room who seems oddly calmed by Chase's statement. Robert sometimes forgets that some people here are actually good at handling children and are almost fond of them, too.
Robert stares down at the white paper. He uses his finger to trace the sentences he was reading. "What did you do when Mal—Male—Malv—"
"Do you know how to read?"
Robert's face flushes red with indignation. He glares at Chase. "Yes, I know how to read!"
Chase smiles. "Whatever you say, Bob."
"Robert!" The child demands.
"You were called 'Robert' as a child?" Malevola asks.
"I know you're not talking."
"Why did you want to be called 'Robert'?" Invisigal doesn't even try to contain her laughter. At least she isn't lost in hysterics like Prism and Punch Up over in the own little world.
"I didn't want the same name as my dad and grandfather."
"That's an excuse. He wanted to be treated as an adult," Chase outs Robert, only fueling everyone's laughter, not just the two clowns in the corner.
"I didn't want to be called fucking 'Bob'!" Robert hisses at the white-haired man beside him. Chase doesn't respond to that verbally, but it's clear from his expression that he doesn't believe Robert in the slightest.
By the time the laughter calms down, time has passed in the video. The conversation between Track Star and little Robert definitely has because the former is now asking the latter a question.
"Who's your favorite hero, then?"
"Mecha Man!"
"I walked right into that one," Chase huffs, smiling slightly. "Okay, who's your second favorite?"
Robert takes a moment to think about it. He suddenly lights up, gripping the arm of his chair and leaning toward Chase. "Shroud!"
And just like that, the mood in the room has soured completely. Robert's fingers tighten on the edges of the cardboard box. Chase sets his hand on Robert's knuckles before the younger can start throwing stuff. Or having a mental breakdown. Thinking about Shroud tends to do that to him. At least, the Shroud from before does.
"Do I even crack top ten?" Chase asks.
Robert immediately shakes his head. "Nope!"
"I waste my youth taking care of you, and this is how you repay me," Chase grumbles.
"Wasting your youth? Where's Robert Robertson Sr.?" Invisigal answers.
"Junior," Robert corrects. "And he was—"
"Not there," Chase interrupts. Robert would be mad if he had an actual answer prepared for Invisigal.
"What are you two doing?"
"Isn't that—?" Punch Up asks.
Coupé nods. "It is."
Shroud—or really, Elliot, because he wasn't wearing his mask—enters through a door in the background of the interview. He walks toward Chase and Robert. Chase murmurs, "Speak of the devil, huh?"
Robert jumps onto his feet in the chair. When Elliot is closer, Robert jumps over the back of his chair. Chase startles into motion. Before he can reach Robert, Elliot catches the little boy. There's a moment when Chase and Elliot are waiting to see if Robert hurt himself, but the boy just giggles, tossing his arms over Elliot's shoulder. "I was in–inter–interviewing Track Star!"
"Were you now?" Elliot says, walking around the chairs. He sits himself in Robert's chair, letting the boy remain in his lap. Chase gets comfortable in his own seat again.
"Well, that's not creepy," Invisigal murmurs.
"It is creepy, though," Golem mentions, looking back at her.
"That's what she meant," Malevola informs him. She glances back at the screen. "What a despicable creature."
"I appreciate the… kindness—" Robert hesitantly calls it that. "—but you don't have to. Shroud was…" Robert sighs, unsure where he's going with that statement. He doesn't know how to talk about Shroud, or Elliot, anymore. For a long time, he was someone important to Robert. He still is important, in a way, but it isn't the same. It will never be the same. Robert has long-since acknowledged that, letting go of Shroud so completely that he hardly remembers what's happening inside the video despite him being the one in his father's killer's lap.
"Who knows how long he was planning on doing what he did." Robert shudders. While it wasn't word-for-word, Robert knows sentences like those were repeatedly uttered during his father's funeral. The entire Brave Brigade were filled with guilt over what happened. Robert didn't respond to them, but each and every one still tried talking to him, apologizing for not seeing it sooner, promising any help he would need, sharing good memories of Robbie.
It's a blur, mostly, these days.
"What's this?" Elliot asks. He gestures to the video recorder, looking directly into the camera with his bright teal eyes.
"It's Chase's video recorder! I made this—" Robert points to something right beside the camera. "—it makes the videos clearer. I did it by—"
"Please, save me from the nerd shi—" Elliot glares at Chase. The young hero scratches his neck, coughing slightly. "—nerd stuff. Save me from the nerd stuff."
Elliot rolls his eyes. Robert's face twitches with disappointment. Noticing this, Elliot bumps their foreheads together to get Robert's attention. "Don't listen to him. You're brilliant, Robert, and he's only jealous of how bright you shine."
Like a flipped switch, Robert's face illuminates with happiness. "This is why you're my second favorite!"
But, remembering that funeral, remembering all of this, Robert has to ask himself why Shroud did this. The Brave Brigade weren't rich. They weren't respected in many circles. They worked harder than most every single day between their day-jobs and their responsibilities to the team.
But they had each other. Even if saving lives didn't pay and instead cost them reputation and time, they were saving lives, and they were doing it together. Robert remembers them being as close as a family. He remembers it that way because he was, in more ways than one, part of that family. His father, Chase, and even Elliot. They could look out for each other, and as someone who was alone for fifteen years, Robert knows how special that is, how much it should have been protected instead of ripped asunder by a bullet in a chest.
"Am I?" Elliot's smile widens when Robert nods. The man's teal eyes flick to Chase. "And where does Track Star fall?"
"Last place," Robert says without any hesitation or doubt.
Despite how tense the atmosphere is with Shroud's presence in the room, a few people chuckle. Robert, included, actually, though that might be the insanity.
"That's it!" Chase declares, rising onto his feet. He shows Robert five fingers. "I'm giving you a five-second head-start."
"What?"
Chase starts counting down. Elliot sets Robert down on the ground. Realizing what's happening, the kid bolts away with an energy only children can possess. He still shouldn't be a match for a speedster, but Chase seems to be using his average speed to chase the little boy around the room. Both of their laughter can be heard—a screeching, loud, beautiful noise.
Elliot laughs, too. Light-hearted and peaceful. He looks away from the superhero chasing a child around their base to the camera. He doesn't stop smiling as he lifts it into his hands. "Guess the interview is over." He turns the camera off, and it freezes on his last expression, happy and fond and everything that it will never be again.
"Damnit, that was supposed to be the funny one," Invisigal grumbles, disappearing after she's done talking as if she wants to hide.
Robert shakes his head. "It was funny."
He means it, too. It was funny. How different life is, how people change, how some things will always stay the same. It's funny. Maybe not laugh-out-loud funny, but definitely… something.
"I should watch these before showing them to you shitheads," Chase murmurs, looking into the box.
"You could just not show them," Robert points out.
Chase chuckles. "Now, why wouldn't I? There's some real embarrassing stuff in here."
"I would pay money to see it," Malevola says.
"Depends on the price," Sonar shrugs.
"I will kill whoever you ask to see it," Coupé adds.
"I can set anything you want on fire."
Robert looks at Flambae incredulously. "Everything you say makes me more certain you set fires on your route."
Prism waves her hand at him. "Shut it, Roberto-son, we're negotiating business."
"A whole week of leaving me alone."
"Chase! What the fuck?!"
"Reasonable," Golem shrugs with his mud-made shoulders.
"Don't listen to him," Prism says. "Three days."
"Five."
Prism narrows her eyes. The rest of the room looks between her and Chase. Eventually, she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest. She nods. "I'll do it. Everyone else?"
"Five days is a lot…" Flambae murmurs. Prism glares at him. He huffs. "It's doable."
One by one, the others agree to leave Chase alone for five days in exchange for seeing 'embarrassing' videos of Robert's childhood. The headache has officially returned, especially when they start looking through the cartridges in search of something that Chase can confirm isn't traumatizing for Robert because of course, he's not just going to leave them to watch his childhood without him.
Robert looks over his team again, all huddled around the cardboard box. They're laughing and talking. It's exactly this easy, carefree atmosphere that makes Robert realize something has changed. They aren't completely hostile with each other or with them. He didn't love watching his five-year-old self cough up blood from a poisoned birthday cake or his eight-year-old self regard Shroud as an uncle of sorts, but maybe it was worth it to bring everyone together, like Chase said it would.
Maybe it was worth it to remind Robert that while this is his own personal Hell and these are his torturers, z-team is also his family and he's not going to let things turn out like they did for the Brave Brigade.