Chapter Text
The fact being all those who took up the Mecha Man mantle being powerless was a known one — but not a truthful one. Faintly recalling everything, he remembered being sat on a swivel chair with his toes barely reaching the floor, the stuffy air of the summer causing sweat to drag down his forehead, and the not-so-subtle form of the large, metal suit — costing nearly his father's entire financial savings — looming over him was when he told about this. One of the few long conversations he ever really did have with his father.
"One day, when I die, you might take this suit and make it yours," His father said, back turned towards him. "Maybe that day you won't. Maybe you'll sell it to a cheap gallery for some people to gawk and point at."
The sound of a wrench tightening a bolt paused. His father turned to meet him, a tired warmth in his eyes directed towards Robert despite the tight firmness settling on the surrounding skin on his face. A furrow settled between his brows as silence settled within the garage. Only did the sudden motion of Robert bringing his chair forwards - energy thrumming with every closer push - did it seem to erase any hesitation he had held.
"You remember how genes work, buddy?" An ugly snort escaped him when his words were met with a rushed nod. "And you know how our family is mostly non-meta?"
With another rushed nod from Robert, he continued. "Well, our family secret is that we are."
"We are? What powers do we have then?" Robert pushed his chair forward again with a grunt, leaning in expecting his father to whisper it into his ears. Only, his ears were met with a hearty chuckle and an answer.
"We don't specifically have powers," He took back his wrench and continued tightening any loose bolts. "But we have something similar to a... Contingency plan, so to speak. For example, let's say our house suddenly got infested with rats. What do you do to deal with those rats?"
"Cheese traps?"
"Sure. Now, when applying that example to us, instead replace the rats with repeated major harm on our body and the 'cheese traps' with wings." His father waved his hand around in circles, only to then lean in further to tighten a specifically stubborn bolt.
The humid, thick air blended into the background of Robert's mind. Wings? The mere thought of them had his heart skip a beat and energy buzz through his veins. Shooting up into the sky and feeling the very atmosphere itself making way for him, a sense of both freedom and hope in what he could do with just a pair of wings ringing through his mind. Passing around the idea like showing off a toy during show-and-tell. Only when he registered the words 'repeated major harm' did his mind freeze.
"Why can't we just grow wings without any harm?" He pursed his lips, spinning the chair around.
The movement of his father's wrench paused again. "Don't get me wrong, kid. Our ancestors were apart of a meta race — avians I think the name was — where they always grew their wings around your age. It was just the cause of certain bad things and a lot of jealousy from others did it lead to what we have now."
"Those others must be stupid." Robert stopped for a moment before confidently nodding. "Really stupid."
With a final laugh from his father, his wrench met the table nearest to him. The suit appearing nearly brand new, besides faint scratches etched into its metal from past fights it had fought and won. Marvelling at the sight of the suit, Robert assured himself with one last thought before a calloused hand clasped his small shoulder.
"Mom's calling us for lunch, better get going before she goes all out at us," his father whispered playfully.
Backing up his words, the savoury smell of chicken floated through the garage door alongside another call of both their names. They glanced at each other wordlessly, letting the silence stew between them again before it was broken by muffled giggles. With the warm hand on his shoulder and the promise of food, he entered the door. Knowing when worst comes to worse, he will take up the name. He will become the next Mecha Man.
"Fuck!"
His yell was disrupted by the sudden slam of his face into bloody concrete. Again. Acid viscerally burning the back of his neck, ensuring caustic burn scars to develop if he could even come out of this alive. Air — tainted with the strong smell of copper — abruptly filled his lungs again, the warehouse ceiling greeting him, until a familiar, annoying face met him with a sharp grin. A drop of acid falling on to his left cheek causing a wheeze to escape his throat.
"How... Did you... Know I was... Here?"
"Oh shit, you're still talking. That's expected of the Mecha Man I guess," Toxic cooed, his smile widening when seeing the lack of fight at the harsh squeeze on the back of his neck. "And that's a 'family secret', babe."
The world halted at those words being spoken. A memory from a summer long gone being brought to the surface before being slammed alongside his face to the concrete. A crack reverberated around the warehouse, his limbs burning from having been thrown around. Fog gently settled in his head, every thought but that damn memory being punted to the ground. When his head was brought up again, he felt around his mouth and sighed internally. His nose was definitely broken now.
Toxic sneered. "We gave you a chance, you know? As soon as we saw your little ass show up on the news we could've killed you right there on the spot. I insisted we go, find you, and then kill you but boss felt merciful enough to let you go. But then you suddenly come, expecting to see Shroud, but sorry to burst your bubble! You only get me. I don't know what he was thinking but-"
"God, can you shut up." Robert groaned, his ears were already ringing and his babbling just made it worse. A slice of regret exploded in his chest when the floor below left him and pain bursted across his back. Another sickening, hollow crack as his body was thrown to the ground. The world around him blurred, appearing akin to smudges on a mirror he couldn't wipe away.
The only good thing that came from the action was acid no longer searing into his flesh. Unfortunately, it only came back as a foot stepped on to his dislocated shoulder, grinding it to the point his very bones harmonised into sounds of scraping and clicking. He wanted to vomit.
"As I was saying." Toxic's voice slipped from his head, muffled almost. "I was planning to do some foreplay before going straight to the main course and killing you. But, boss told me some very interesting things about your family."
Humid air.
His eyes darted to Toxic's own expected ones, wide — and, for once, his heart wasn't pounding from adrenaline but fear.
A tightened bolt.
"Maybe this will teach you a lesson about not taking small mercies for granted."
Wings.
Chase rubbed the sides of his temple, what was a small throb turning into spikes of pain. "How the hell does your damn dispatcher deal with you assholes?"
It had been a week since Robert's disappearance. The last time Chase had spoken to him was right after he had seen him walk out of Blonde Blazer's office with an intensity to his steps. Telling him, outright, that he didn't want to remove any of the members of the Z-team — that he'd talk to the higher-ups himself if they denied the proposition. Lady Luck must've been on his side as it was accepted. Yet by the time she was about to give him the news, he was gone.
As soon as his apartment had been searched, other heroes had been dispatched to find the location of where he could be. Tracking down where he'd last been, or in other words, tracking down what are but bare crumbs Robert had left behind.
"Honestly, he's just a better dispatcher than you."
"Gotta agree with Mal here. Plus, it's probably your age getting to you."
"You shut up and go back to tracking down that thief, Invisigal." He removed the headphones from his ears, rubbing them furiously. Cackles echoed out of the speaker, causing him to grunt to himself. "I'm never covering any more shifts from him again."
Flambae's icon lit up. "Just let us find him then. Not that hard to do."
There it was, his eyes narrowed almost sympathetically, the issue. That same day some heroes had been dispatched to locate him, the Z-team had insisted on finding their dispatcher. Blonde Blazer had denied their request, ensuring Robert would be found and their worries would be eased. Except, what was supposed to be an assurance became fuel for the fire of their protests and stubbornness in accepting her deny. Leading up to them going off-route at times or their missions done too well.
For instance, this being a thief being beaten up to the point death might've as well accepted him.
Cackling filled up the speakers of his headphones again as Chase stood up from his seat. Slamming the headphones on the desk — and pointedly ignoring the teasing calls for him to come back — he trudged towards where Blonde Blazer's office was. Turning the handle, the door surprisingly opened for him until he looked up and saw her looking at him in surprise.
"You should get the whole team removed," he began. "I can't deal with- Blazer?"
Blonde Blazer focused on him with a bittersweet look. Posture weary as her shoulders were slightly slumped into themselves, her hands tightened into fists. "Chase." She sighed. "I was just looking for you. Come in."
They both entered her office, tension settling in the room as she beckoned him to her desk where her computer sat.
"We found Robert."
The room went cold. The words coming out wrong, as if she was stating the death of someone rather than the rescue of one. A frown settled on his face as he eyed her with worry, stiffening as he waited for her to continue.
"But he's not the same." Her computer screen lit the desk blue, computer keys clacking under her fingers. "He attacked us as soon as we entered the warehouse we found him in. Stronger and faster than before but not coherent at all."
The screen briefly before static-affected footage flooded the display. An array of heroes Chase somewhat recognised entered the warehouse; being led by Blonde Blazer who contrasted against the dull backdrop of the warehouse. Blood was smeared all over the floor and the corroded walls. Amongst the bloodshed, in one of the corner's of the warehouse, a figure was crouched. Curled into themself. One noticeable feature nearly matching the contrast of Blonde Blazer were the large set of brown wings, splattered in a shade of maroon, covering them like a cocoon.
As soon as the figure was spotted, she's seen raising her hand in a stop motion for the team behind her. The static masking what she was saying while the figure raised its head just a bit. When she was just about five metres away from them, did they suddenly disappear in a second. Flashes of brown spontaneously darting through the warehouse and taking down two heroes in just a minute. Chase swore as soon as the footage paused on the figure — recognised as Robert — collapsing just at the point of escaping.
"What did they do to you, kid?" He muttered under his breath, fixated on the collapsed, winged figure in the footage.
"You know anything about this?"
"It's a 'family secret'." Chase dragged a hand down his face, his mouth dry. "His entire family have this gene which activates under extreme physical trauma as a 'last protective shield'. I only know one fucker who could even think of doing this to him and know what they're doing."
"Shroud," she finished with finality. Staring at the footage as well with a pinched expression. "Shit."
A stillness stewed between them before the computer shut down with a single press of the power button. "He's at the SDN's private medical clinic right now."
"I'll go visit him now." He stopped in his footsteps. "You planning on telling his team?"
"Not yet." Just on cue, a bat-winged shadow casted itself through the windows before light filtered its way back in again. They both stared out the window as she sighed again. "But they probably will anyway."
"I'll keep their asses in place if they decide to do anything." The door creaked open by the turn of the handle, the hallway empty as a majority of employees had already left for home. "Thank you for telling me."
Her lips curled upwards into a small smile, unlike the practiced smile she shows to the public. "Of course, Chase."
With a final nod, the door closed with a final shut.