Chapter Text
Robert woke up with an all-over ache and a throbbing head. He missed Beef lapping at his face for breakfast, but Chase had stolen him the night prior. He wanted to give Robert a break, a day off. He was too ashamed to admit that a night without Beef wouldn’t do him any good; his brother meant well, though.
He pulled himself off the firm futon, dragging himself over to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, forgoing a shower or combing his untamable hair. It didn’t matter; it’s not like he had anything planned today, and saving water was always good. His next destination was the barely functioning Keurig that he’d had since his father died, taken from his childhood home. It sputtered out shitty, burnt, and bitter coffee, but that didn’t matter either. It was only to keep him awake and not fall into an endless slumber, finally giving his tired muscles a break.
Speaking of his muscles, he grabbed a bottle from his counter, shaking it to see if it had anything left. It didn’t. He tossed it back, selecting another from the collection, this one rattling. He popped it open and downed three pills, taking them with the cheap liquid. He rolled his shoulders, the left one going farther back than the other due to the numerous times he’d dislocated it.
He walked back to his couch and grabbed his phone—8%. It was 11 in the morning, Robert hadn’t been able to fall asleep until 7, and he only got those four hours after risking an OD on melatonin gummies.
He had four notifications. Three from Chase, pictures of beef captioned with ‘he’s mine forever now fucker’, and one from Mandy. Well, Blazer, it was work-related. Sort of.
‘Hey! Sorry to bug you on the weekend Robert, but just thought you should know that Invisigal was heard to have found a new bunker by the marina. Coop said her source is reliable, and even if I’m not sure about that, we’re planning to check it out on Monday. This okay with you?’
Well, shit. His day just got worse.
After Invisigal killed Shroud, he hadn’t heard from her. He hadn’t seen her. Every time Beef so much as sniffed the air, Robert was on high alert. He didn’t know where she was, what she was doing, or if she was safe. Was this even her choice? To betray the Z-Team? Who knows if Shroud had another second in command, pulling the strings and making her do this? Even if Robert had spent years researching Elliot, he didn’t know everything. He hadn’t known Invisigal worked with him until she told him; he hadn’t known Invisigal had still been working with him even after joining the Phoenix Program. It was getting hard to distinguish the truth from the lies when it came to her. Did she really like him, or was it part of Shroud’s plan? He had been consumed with doubt and confusion since that day, and people were starting to notice.
The day before, Chase had traded a Subway Sandwich for a Beef, making sure Robert actually ate it before leaving. The food was good, but Robert missed the Chihuahua. Only after one night, he missed waking up to slobber, waking up for a reason.
Even before Court- Invisigal, he had been struggling to live for himself, but Beef had always helped. He had a second life to take care of, to feed. It’s what kept him going after losing the mech.
But today, he only had to do it for Robert, and Robert wasn’t enough.
He slipped on a dirty sweatshirt, not bothering to smell it. He wore it on Thursday to work out, and he knew it was bad, but he didn’t have a fuck to give. He grabbed his only pair of sweatpants, sliding them over his loose boxers. He hadn’t gotten any new ones since the coma, and he had lost a lot of weight.
Robert slipped his arms through the coat, pulled on his shoes, and grabbed his thin wallet.
The walk to the gas station was short, and the chilly wind biting his face felt good. Kind of like a wake-up call. The bell dinged above his head, and the teenager behind the counter didn’t bother to greet him. After grabbing two bottles of Mezcal and a red bic lighter, he placed them on the counter and took out a few $20s. Robert planned that to go to lunch for the upcoming week, but after hearing about the fallen team member, he decided to waste it on booze instead of sugar cakes. He asked the boy for a pack of cigarettes, too.
“Shit day?” The kid asked, scanning his items.
“Shit everything.”
He nodded and handed the few bits of change back to the retired hero, putting the new items in a plastic bag.
Walking out of the corner store, he pulled out one of the nicotine sticks, struggling for a few moments with the lighter before finally seeing the tip glow orange. His legs hurt, he just wanted to go back to his apartment. He wanted to sit with his dog. He wanted… what did he want?
That was never a question Robert had asked himself before. It was always, what do I need so I won’t keel over and die, and what do others want? What does dad want? Chase? Shroud? Blazer? Court-
He inhaled more smoke. He shouldn’t think about her. He couldn’t.
The bottle was opened when he finally got back to his apartment. Robert slid out the balcony door, sitting on the ground. His legs dangled from the edge through the railing, looking over the city. Over the dumpster he had given his mattress to. He took a swig from the alcohol, wincing as it slid down his throat. Plain alcohol wasn’t good, but he needed it.
Monday. Would Monday be when they would catch her? When he would be able to ask her why she did what she did? Why did she leave? What could he have done to save her? His chest started to hurt, but he opted to ignore it, leaning for the glass and his cig.
The part of Torrence he lived in wasn’t the best. Smoke wasn’t filtered from the air, it was prominent in his area. He saw the tubes from factories in the distance, pumping out more gray clouds. He got the apartment because it was cheap, affordable. It’s not like he needed much. Beef and the mech, that’s all he needed room for. He was fine for years, but now that he was Robert and not Mecha-Man, it felt different. It felt more detached. Well, it always had been detached, but Robert had finally concluded that, yeah, he needed to do something about his shitty apartment. He stood back up and walked inside, setting the Mezcals on the counter with the pack of cigarettes.
He was about to start cleaning, but when his eyes landed on the permanent red circle marked on his wall, all the motivation he had mustered up ran away. Just like she did. He went back to the bottle.
~~
“Bitch, why do you even have that?”
“You literally bought this for me, Ali,” Zahir said, rolling his eyes as he unbuttoned the patterned shirt and hung it back up in his closet.
“Slander. You should wear the black one, with the red lining.” Alice said, looking back at her phone as she lounged on Zahir’s bed.
He changed into the suggested attire and slid into a pair of black slacks. Zahir walked to his bathroom, pulling his hair back into a loose but neat bun, and applying a small amount of mascara. Satisfied, he returned, giving his best friend a twirl.
Alice looked up from her device and grinned, snapping a photo of him. “Sexy. You’re gonna kill a single dad.”
He chuckled, smoothing out invisible wrinkles and sliding on his dress shoes. “I wish, I haven’t been laid in a while. But not tonight, tonight is about Mani, not my dick.” Zahir did one last glance over himself and grabbed his car keys from his dresser. “Make sure you lock up when you head out, yeah? Seeya Monday, babe.”
Zahir blew Alice a kiss, and she waved in response, finding something apparently funny on her phone as he closed the door behind him.
~~
Robert's phone was dead by the time he was cut off at the bar. Reluctantly, he did realize he should sober up, or he was gonna be in for a shit hangover the next day. Shittier than he was already going to get, he meant.
He remembered the route; it wasn’t far. A left, go straight for one light, and then it’s on your right. He opted for the machine instead of talking to the bored-looking cashier, ordering three triple crunch tacos, some watered-down lemonade, and a few packs of hot sauce. It didn’t take long for his food to be ready.
He stared at the ground while he stuffed his face, tracing the scorch marks with his eyes. Two footprints.
Telling the team he was Mecha-Man had gone better than he’d thought. More specifically, telling Flambae.
Okay, maybe almost getting fried wasn’t ideal, but he was expecting full-body third-degree burns, so a punch every month or so was happily taken. Somewhat happily.
The cold drink was perfect, his body had felt flushed with the alcohol and sweatshirt, the wind having died down. Dousing the last taco in hot sauce, he kept staring at the burnt concrete.
He felt bad for Flambae. Not for Flambae, but for what he did to Flambae. Robert didn’t mean to cut off his fingers; that was a bit far. He’d handed out scars before as Mecha-Man, but he had never severed limbs like that. His controls were overheating, warnings surrounded him in red, and his armor was hot to the touch. He still had a burn scar on his arm from it. Even if it was in self-defense, Robert still felt guilty about how he conducted that arrest.
The scar he had just been thinking about was now covered in hot sauce. He licked it off, trying to change his train of thought onto… anything else. Anything not Mecha-Man or Invisigal related. Unfortunately for him, that was basically his entire life. He decided to pin his focus on memories with Beef, until he heard a scream.
~~
“You were beautiful, Mani! Better than every other kid there,” Zahir stated with confidence, carrying the 9-year-old on his shoulders. “And your costume was stunning.”
“Dai, you designed it,” The girl giggled, her curls bouncing in the high ponytail. She wore a light pink bodice, bedazzled with rhinestones, and a lavender skirt. In her hairdo was a silver and purple flower made with tule and more gems.
“I know, but you made it better, azizam.” Zahir placed a peck on her calf and led her out of the theater, making his way to where he parked his newly restored car. Dumpy had landed on it during a depressive episode, and getting it fixed had not been fun.
“Can we get food, Dai? I’m hungry,” Mani whined, her cheek resting on the top of Zahir’s head.
“Sure, how do tacos sound?”
``````
Zahir lifted Mani up into the air, eliciting a shriek from the girl as they made their way to the entrance of the fast-food place. He usually wouldn’t eat anything like this, much less feed it to his niece, but they were both tired and Mani deserved a treat.
“Fl’mbae?”
He heard a raspy voice slur out his hero alias, making him look up from the little girl he held hands with. Robert?
“Bob-Bob? Jesus, you look like shit.” The shorter man wore a sweatshirt with covered in stains and wrinkled joggers beyond repair. An empty box of cigarettes lay on the table he sat at next to three taco wrappers, two empty and one inhabited with a soggy, sauce-drowned, half eaten taco.
“Thanks, such positive- hic- insight.” Ah. Drunk. Even wasted Robert was still sarcastic.
“Mhm. I’ll be right back. Come on, azizam.” He led Mani inside, ordering their food with the grumpy teen. He told Mani to go wash up before peeking out of the restaurant and gesturing for Robert to come inside. He did as told, though it looked like he did so with a limp. He sat across from Zahir in a small booth with torn upholstery.
“Wanna tell me why you’re wasted at 11 PM, by yourself, in a fast-food restaurant, looking and… smelling like shit?” It wasn’t the time to sugarcoat. Something was wrong with Robert. Had his drink been spiked? Did he get some news, something on Visi maybe? He looked into Robert’s sunken eyes, trying to get a read on him through the brown irises. They had dark lashes casting shadows down on them, his pupils dilated, and looking into Zahir’s. Doe eyes was what came to mind, but he shook it away.
“Mmh… I miss Beef,” Robert mumbled, leaning his head forward into his hands. Okay, getting drunk over a dog having a sleepover, that was definitely reasonable.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. No. Sort of. I miss him, he’s what keeps me alive. Helps a lot with anxiety, too.” The man mumbled, now resting his chin in one palm, the other hand toying with an empty straw wrapper.
“Okay, that’s…” He thought for a second. Robert couldn’t think properly at the moment. Even if he was curious as to what exactly Robert had meant by that, he wouldn’t use his intoxication to get answers out of the man. “How about you stay at my place, and we can pick your cow up in the morning?”
“He’s a dog, silly. But why do I gotta stay?” He questioned, looking back up to Zahir with those pools of coffee, sprinkled with golden honey glaze.
“Because you’re drunk, Mecha-Dick.”
“Dai, where’s the food?” Mani appeared beside Zahir, and he immediately put on a smile to hide his concern for his dispatcher. Everyone on the Z-Team knew he had taken what happened with Shroud and Invisigal pretty hard, but Zahir just found him plastered with cigarettes and a suicide plan. That made the case a bit more severe than the group had originally thought.
“It’s probably at the counter, sit down while I go get it?” He told her, sliding out of the booth.
~~
“You look sad, mister,” The young girl observed. Robert assumed this was the niece Flambae always bragged about, she looked like she just had one of the dance recitals he would leave early for. Flambae looked spruced up, too.
“I miss my dog,” Robert grumbled, tearing the straw wrapper in half.
~~
Zahir got the food as fast as he could, not wanting to leave his niece alone with the intoxicated man for too long, not because he didn’t think it was safe but because he didn’t want Robert to say something overtly depressing to a nine-year-old.
“Here are your tacos, azizam,” Zahir set two tacos in front of the girl, along with a cup of sprite. He got himself a burrito. He sat next to his niece, looking back at Robert.
“Can I see your doggy?” Mani asked, taking a messy bite of the greasy food. He mentioned Beef while he was gone?
“M’ phone’s dead,” Robert said, looking apologetic with a pout, those stupid brown eyes looking away.
“Here, Mani, I have a few,” Zahir pulled out his phone and opened his photos, selecting the folder labeled ‘bob bobs fat cow’ and handed it to Mani, letting her scroll through.
“Did you want anything to eat, Bobert?” Zahir asked him.
“Your dog is obese,” Mani observed.
“My dog is perfect, and no thank you,”
“I’m getting you water, Bob-Bob,” Zahir declared, walking back to the counter. He handed a five to the cashier, collected the change, and walked over to the soda machine, filling the cardboard cup with water. He walked back to the table and placed the water in front of Robert.
“Drink.” Zahir told him.
Robert frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “You didn’t h’ve to,” He leaned forward, sipping from the straw anyway.
“Shut up, Robbie.”
“Don’t call me that.” Zahir let the aggression slide.
Mani finished her tacos, and Zahir ate his burrito, looking over Robert, lazily drinking his water. “Can we go home now, Dai?” Mani asked.
“Sure. We have to give my friend here a ride too, but I’ll drop you off first, okay?” She nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and picking up all the trash from the table. Zahir pulled out of the seat and let Mani go throw it away while Zahir helped Robert stand up steadily.
“You good, Bob-Bob?” He asked, placing a warm hand on the other man’s back.
He nodded, but no matter what happened Robert would probably say he was fine.
Zahir led them both to the car, letting Mani sit in the front and Robert in the back. The ride was silent save for the quiet radio, a new song Mani liked by Olivia Dean was playing. The drive to his sister’s house wasn’t far, he brought Mani inside and rushed a quick conversation with his sister, not wanting to be present when she found out he put a strange drunk man in the car with her daughter. He kissed Mani’s forehead and reminded her how well she did before heading back to the car.
He discovered that Robert had fallen asleep in the back. He sighed, changing the music to Whitney Houston and taking the car out of drive. He avoided potholes and bumps, not wanting to jostle the man. Maybe the bags below his coffee eyes would finally go away.