Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tonight’s weird. Probably one of the top five weirdest of my life, maybe even top three. And not the normal superhero weird that you can roll with, where accepting it and moving on helped the headache go away. It was emotionally weird.

I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when Malevola portaled into my apartment. Maybe it was just a wellness check, maybe I had died, and it turned out Malevola collected the souls of LA as a side hustle thing with hell. Either option honestly wouldn’t have surprised me. 

Hearing that we could track the Astral Pulse, that Royd and Visi already had a lead, and it was just a matter of scrubbing through SDN security footage?

Get up.

I mean, what is there to say? Fuck. I have to be in. I have to be a lot more if everyone at SDN  was suddenly coming to my apartment. 

…

…

Like in pants. Pants would be good. It took a while for my sloshed brain to focus and find the pair I had kicked off before Malevola started explaining her surprisingly long and sordid history with the Yachtie gang. Then…

…

…

And then…

Sonar, Prism, more lamps… more Z-teamers, actually, a ridiculous fucking number of lamps. Pizza shows up at some point and then fucking Mandy and Chase arrive with an entire fucking couch!

A-a couch! It even converted into a damn bed!

I can’t. I don’t.  

What are you even supposed to think when that happens to you? What words are supposed to describe the fucking riptide of emotions that I’m riding? To have fucking… just everyone show up when I’m at my lowest fucking point and turn it around like that. My apartment, despite just being a fucking studio, never felt small. It was the perfect size for Beef, me, and the Mecha Man suit when I needed to do repairs.  But now… with so much (too much) in the room with us, as I float from one conversation to the next, someone or something everywhere I turn it’s- … it’s… 

Overwhelming. 

Alcohol helps. Provides numbness, a disconnect between me and my emotions, replacing the shock that had dried up hours ago. 

What do I even say to that? “Thank you" just feels like I’m a pathetic fucking broken record. Thank you for this, thank you for that, thanks for the whiskey, thanks for the couch, thanks for the lamp, thanks for the light, thanks for the salt rock, thanks for showing up. 

Thanks for caring.

…Is this normal? Or is this pathetic? The closest fucking thing I’ve ever seen to this would have been… 

…

…

The Brave Brigade

I think at my core right now... there is too much going on. Too much had happened. Dreams shattered, the broken pieces swept up and put in a small box in the back of my mind, only to then have it all dumped out on the floor and reassembled by everyone. 

The numb ocean of emotion I woke up to this morning turned into a rolling boil. Shame, gratitude, desperation, fear, hope, confusion, stress, fatigue, happiness, amusement, anger, sadness, love.

All of it in constant motion, each time the conversation lulls or I get a moment to myself, my brain instantly spirals off on potential what-ifs and what possibilities tomorrow could look like. 

It was probably why, each time I got quiet or left a conversation, I was quickly engaged by someone else in the room. Another question to distract, another topic to hide behind. 

I welcomed it easily; with the whiskey I’d been sneaking sips of here and there. It was easier to just focus on the now. 

Chase pegs me as drunk the second he walks in, and the sad thing is, he’s right. With me probably being two shot glasses away from a blackout, I cut back and start to inch closer to sobriety instead. 

Which becomes a problem. 

Because I notice it. The glances. The odd tone of voice with some of the Z-team’s questions. Conversations seemed to flow around the room, diving into people's histories with whatever gang whose territory Royd had tracked the pulse to, then meandering into side conversations, tangents, and questions about being a hero, a villain, or a YouTube pop singer or whatever the fuck. 

But when I spoke up? When I moved. Eyes would track me, there’d just be a slight delay in response. The damn water cups kept showing up in my hand somehow. I stumble slightly, and suddenly Malevola’s tail is there instantly, stabilizing me. 

To be fair, it’s not all of them. Sonar asks a question after the second order of pizza arrives, one that sets off a ripple of winces. 

“So like, how the fuck did you get all those scars anyway?” 

I distracted them with my first encounter with Brainteaser, showing the shrapnel scars on my arms when a sewer bomb had detonated too close to me.

But the question helped focus my sloshed brain. Contextualizes all the side eyes, glances at each other, and subtext that I was only just barely catching in my inebriated state. 

It was pity. Apprehension. Just like with the Brave Brigade. I’d fucked up. Got hurt with the suit. And now I’m being treated like glass. 

I’d quickly swiped some more of the whiskey, swapping out the water, and took a sip. It should have been something quick; a sleight of hand lost in the cacophony that had filled my apartment space. It’d only gotten a sip or two before it was out of my hand…somehow. 

Drunk me apparently didn’t have a chance of being sly in a room with a bunch of heroes.

Almost like they’d been training in honing their observation skills.

The fuckers. 

I let it wash over me. Sure, it was fucking embarrassing, but it’d be worse if I called it out.  Instead, I let the whiskey do its thing and coasted on the vibes of the party. 

And it wasn’t everyone. 

A beer bottle. 

“Here, gotta stay hydrated.” 

I had no idea if it was intentional or accidental, but Invisigal was a godsend to cut through the… suffocating care that I felt being wrapped around me as the night progressed and I got a few more of my faculties under control. 

Cool fresh air to the smothering attention I felt I was trapped under.

“Because that’s what beer’s for, hydration.” I joke back.

But I appreciated it.

That felt like it was hours ago now as I lean against the wall and watch everyone dance without abandon. They're all good at it. Comfortable. 

Each and every one of them. 

…

…

I never learned how to dance. Never had the time, space, or friends for it. 

…

…

Fuck…. Why was I like this? They were all here for me; quite literally tracking down the Astral Pulse together while I sneak booze like a rebelling teenager. I should be in there spacing out with the best of them, trying to one-up Chase’s frankly insane moves. The man danced like he was the youngest one here. 

Before I can continue either the morose pity party or further marvel at Chase’s seemingly lack of arthritis, Mandy’s here in front of me. Blue eyes bright, a smile on her face as she grabs me from the wall and pulls me into a dance. The music thrumming through the air, and time seems to slow as I meet her blue eyes. 

Oh, this is not going to go well. 

I try shifting my body weight, and try to bob to the music. I must be ass as she takes my hand, quickly twirls, resting her arms around me. 

Smooth. Very smooth.

“Not much dancing experience? She asks, her tone light as she turns us slowly. More of a two-step sway than any actual dance moves. 

“Suit cockpit didn't offer many chances, no.” I say. 

“That’s fine, I’m pretty terrible too,” Mandy admits, turning us out of the light of the projector and into the corner with one of the lamps above us, her blond hair catching the light. “SDN actually forbids me from dancing at public functions. Bad for my PR image or something.” 

“What kind of company ‘forbids’?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, “They’re your employer, not some evil stepmother.”

Mandy laughs, “Well, forbid might be a bit strong. More…. Strongly suggest while listing the potential fallout if I don’t listen to said suggestion.” 

I think about Tim Murphy and the hyper-micromanaging attitude he seemed to bring to life. 

“I can see that… unfortunately.”

“I did take some swing dance classes back in school. I don’t remember too much, but I can show you what I remember.”

The map of Los Angeles catches my eye for a moment before Mandy twists and the wall shifts out of my view. 

I shrug, refocusing on Mandy.

“Sure.” 

I’m pretty sure I’m terrible, but Mandy’s instructions are too vague and boil down to “feeling” the music…so it's maybe only fifty percent me being a shit dancer. Once the next song starts, Prism interjects and ends up leading an impromptu dance lesson that we and surprisingly, Golem and Punch Up try to follow. 

It's…fun.

Eventually, Invisigal’s playlist begins to loop and people bow out of the dance lesson. Prism focuses on Waterboy, the unlucky one to be the last to bow out of the dance and thus getting Prism's full attention. 

I drink more of the water that was put in my hands and catch my breath, listening to a conversation Visi and Sonar are having with Chase of all people. 

“LA’s sewer system is fucked to hell and back,” Chase is grunting, answering some question of Sonar’s. “Each time an earthquake or some shit fucks it up, you have heroes, villains, and secret projects all burrowing in like fucking beetles. Secret lairs, escape routes, access tunnels. Dark Rider fucking built an entire maze of shielded tunnels back in the seventies so his fat ass supercar didn’t have to fuck with LA traffic, and half of it is still there. LA sewers chew up any kind of signal and spit it in your face.” 

“Nice soundtrack.” I say to Courtney as I lean against the counter, joining the conversation, reaching for a fresh cup. “Is that just on shuffle or something you made for tonight?” 

Visi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Like I have time to make playlists like some kind of shitty high school mixtape. It’s just a SoundCloud playlist I throw good songs onto.”

I pour a glass of whiskey only for Chase to snatch it out of my hands. 

“Hey,” I protest, “While I’m not sober, I’m a long way from being drunk.” 

Which was part of the problem.

“Liquor before beer in the clear,” Chase sighs, taking a deep sip from the glass, “Beer before liquor never fucking sicker. And you had a bottle and then hit the fucking dance floor. Cutting you off, Robert.” 

My retort is cut off as the computer beeps, startling all of us. Royd quickly peels off from his conversation with Mandy in the kitchen and turns his attention to the screen. Tapping a few keys.

“Okay, what we got here?” Muttered the large man as he stood in the entryway of the kitchen, blocking Waterboy in. “Last exchange put it in the hands of some collector, ‘Handles the Keeper’, Known for being a tech and information broker. Man picked it up here and then drove towards the coast.” 

He said, pulling up a security camera clip of a parking lot. An old purple Cadillac quickly pulled out and raced down the road. 

Invisigal perks up, eyes tracking the footage. “Coast?” she asks, setting her drink down. “Dude’s got only one safehouse that’s on the coast.” She turns and grabs the Sharpie we’d been using to mark the solo cups and approaches the map. I follow, whatever the fuck I was going to say to Chase forgotten. 

There’s a slight click as Chase sets down the glass that he’d taken from me. 

Visi strolls to the wall the map is projected on and, begins muttering to herself tracing a street with her finger. “And if this goes past old Sepulveda Road…” she mutters, squinting at a section for a moment before confidently circling a building on the coast. 

…

…

Circling a random portion of my wall. …in Sharpie.

 “You do understand how projectors work, right?”

“Felt more dramatic... and bare walls are a sign of depression.” Invisigal retorts, the two of us standing and looking at the map. 

This was it. The Astral Pulse. Not a replacement. But the original…

…

…

When I had first woken up from the coma, I’d scoured LA my first week of consciousness. Virtually, while I was hospital-bound the first few days, then physically, the second they cleared me for light activity. Two miles in every direction from where I had crashed and every rooftop between the steelworks and the crater. Burnt wiring, melted and warped plating. Bits and pieces. 

I remember standing on a bridge, looking down at the paved storm drain that was the LA River. It had rained once or twice since I had gone into the coma, and anything that Monarch hadn’t gathered would have been swept out to sea weeks ago.

Ten years for a new Astral Pulse.

It was then that I decided to arrange the press conference. To stop looking. Stop trying.   

It had felt numb back then, too. Running through the logistics of ‘what’s next’ instead of actually deciding what to do or what to feel. I’d been on my way to the liquor store, draining the last of the booze in my apartment when-

“That guy I threw, he landed on the roof, right?” 

Mandy found me. 

“Why is it always a warehouse by the docks?” I say, pushing down the introspection. Banter was good for that. Kept you in the conversation, in the moment. 

Courtney shrugs, “It’s where stuff comes in, and stuff goes out. Not a rocket scientist, are ya?”

“No, that was my dad–” I say absent-mindedly, trying to pull up what I knew about the area. “What kind of security are we dealing with?”

“That's where it get tricky.” Royd says, pulling up a hacked building overview, electronic wiring, and passive automatic turrets installed along the walls. 

“Shit,” I breathe, looking over the amount of munitions just stored in the warehouse. Whoever this Keeper collector guy was, he spared no expense to secure his stuff. After tonight, Royd would need to update this guy’s threat level. LA had a problem if all of his safehouses had this many munitions and explosives guarding them. 

“That’s more than shit, you'd need a fuckin' army,” Chase grunts from behind us, his voice slightly slurred. 

Courtney suddenly speaks up. “I’ll go,” she says, her voice serious as she looks at me, looking around the room. “Can’t shoot what you can’t see.” 

I’m caught off guard but just how… serious she looks. The light-hearted jokes and ease were replaced by determination, a heaviness in her gaze that I wasn’t expecting. A rush of drunken emotion surges up into my chest, but before I can even begin to decipher the mix, Mandy speaks up. 

“Look, this is really great work, but doing this tonight is out of the question,” she says, waving a hand and drawing Visi’s attention. She makes a face. “Hitting a secure location in the middle of the night like this is a major operation. Something that downtown would need clearance on.”

 Courney responds, and her, Mandy, and Chase go back and forth, mirroring the conflicting emotions I try to keep under control. 

Eagerness mixed with drunken indignation, shame that someone else has to get it for me, apprehension at what may be there, a desire for this entire thing to be just fucking over already. To have it one way or the other, lost and forever beyond my reach, or in my hands and back in the suit. 

“Hey, no need for that. We take the day to add it to the call list, and we can hit it tomorrow afternoon.” Mandy says, meeting my eyes. I know what point she’s making. Trying to keep Tim out of this, keep my identity safe…

“Tomorrow afternoon? This thing's not gonna sit still for that long. If we don't grab it, someone else will.” 

Another day? Another day to sit with these emotions that’re boiling in me? To not know what the rest of my life is going to look like? 

“She’s right.” I hear myself say, “They’re ready. We’re ready.” 

We’d send everyone. Have the entire team close in on the warehouse and just get the dam-

Mandy frowns, shaking her head, “Robert.” she says with a pause. Not just a pause, the pause. The hesitation. “No. It’s not happening.”

“There’s no guarantee it’ll be there tomorrow.” Visi protests, looking between Blazer and me. “We need to go now.”

“She said no.” Chase says, slamming his bottle onto the counter. The vibration knocks Visi’s phone off the ledge and it hits the ground, the music cutting out. “You understand that word? Or has it got too many fuckin' syllables for you?”

All other conversations in the room die. From out on the Balcony, Sonar pokes his head in. 

“Why don’t you go walk your ass around a mall, Grandpa.” Visi snaps, Chase drawing her ire. “Heroes are talking–”

“YOU ARE NO FUCKING HERO!” 

Gasps ring out around me, Sonar’s ears go flat, Punch-Up crosses his arms. Mandy lurches forward. 

“Whoa-- hey!” she tries to interject. But Chase doesn’t stop. 

“She named you Invisigal! You named yourself Invisibitch,” Chase snarls, jerking his head towards Mandy. “And you had it fuckin' right.” Chase jabs his finger into Visi’s shoulder, pushing her back.

“Chase! You’re drunk. You need to stop talking.” Mandy says, pushing Chase out of Visi’s face, trying to get space between them. Chase ignores her, his glare fixed on Visi. 

“You wanna get people hurt? Get people fuckin' killed? Then you need to go back to the team where you belong!”

I lurch forward, “Chase, that’s enough!” 

This was bad. I’d know Chase and Visi don’t get along. The two were caustic and sniping at each other at the office, but this was the next level. My drunk brain slowly churning out a plan. We needed to distract them, break it up so they weren’t in each other’s faces. 

“She thinks she’s like you but she’s not.” Chase says, pointing at the ground between us all, “Robert doesn’t need to keep going out there with no powers putting his life on the line to make up for assholes like you. He doesn’t need to be Mecha Man to be a hero.”

I was stunned, any words on my lips dying as he continued, his angry voice filling the room, keeping us all captivated by what he had to say. 

He doesn’t need to be Mecha Man to be a hero.

A flash of a memory of a similar night, weeks ago, when Chase and I had gone drinking when I had first started at SDN. We bar-hopped and slowly ended our way back here, in my apartment. Both of us only had flashes of that night, hazy recollections. But seeing him standing in the middle my room brought the end of the night back to the forefront of my mind. 

“I dunno Star,” I slurred, as I sit in the lawn chair, “I… I wanna think he’d be okay with what I’ve done. As…As  a Mecha” I hiccup, “as Mecha Man.” I look over at the corkboard on the wall, my Shroud notes still pinned there by red fucking string. “But I lost the Astral Pulse….” 

My chest feels so fucking tight.  Like there’s the weight of the fucking suit pressing me down, pinning me to the lawn chair. I failed. I failed him. 

Chase slides down the side of the wall and Beef crawls into his lap, licking at his face. 

“You. Did everything fucking right as Mecha Man. You carried this city for fifteen damn years. Solo too! Not even your Dad could claim that Robert… Robbie,” Chase says, switching to the old name he’d tease me with when I had decided I would just go by Robert. “You went out, every damn night, every damn day. And you saved this city. Not just from the fucking crooks, but you’d fucking run those dumb races and cheer on kids. Kids!” 

He leans over and rests his head on Beef’s dog bed, looking up at me, his eyes bright. “You didn’t need the fucking Astral Pulse to do that shit. It wasn’t the Pulse that gave you the words to inspire and reassure the… the… the people! You were doing the best you could and you were doing so good. Your old man would have been proud of you, Robbie.” 

He continues to ramble, his voice fading off as sleep takes him, and I just stare. Stare as Beef curls up against Chase’s head, using it like a backrest. And that pressure I felt, the weight keeping in the chair…felt a little lighter. 

Sleep claimed me not long after. 

Emotions break through my drunken fog, my chest tight as some complicated catharsis at the memory, something that I quickly have to compartmentalize and put aside as the Chase today continues to drunkenly rage against Visi. 

“You’re playin’ them, you’re playin' yourself. You think you’re invisible but I fuckin’ see you.” Chase finally stops, every word out of his system as he glares at Visi. 

Invisigal is holding herself so still. The tension in the air, the caustic words from Chase’s mouth, Visi’s face is pulled down, her expression tight at her narrow eyes glare back at Chase.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Visi says shortly, the smallest waver in her voice. 

“I know you’re a liar. A criminal. I know you’re fuckin’ dangerous, what else do I need to know?” Chase asks, poking her on the shoulder again. 

…

…

Blip. 

Visi blips out of view, and Chase crosses his arms. “There. Now I know you’re a cowar–”

He’s cut off as a meaty thwack echoes in the room, and he’s driven back towards the kitchen counter. A bottle falls off the counter and breaks.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh shit!”

I take a step towards Chase in alarm, only for something invisible to push past me, moving towards the door. 

“Visi! Wait!” I call out as the front door is thrown open and slammed shut. 

“That was a nice uppercut.” Punch-Up remarks as I turn to the room. Mandy is examining Chase, having him follow her finger with his eyes. 

“How could you tell? Invisigal was invisible.” Sonar points out. 

“I’m surprised you're still conscious, you went flying!” Prism comments, peering from behind Mandy. “Mal, can you check him over?”

“Okay, That’s a wrap…” I sigh, addressing the entire room. The spike in adrenaline helps pull myself together. The night was officially fucked. I had over half a bottle of whiskey in me, Visi might have put her job with SDN in jeopardy by running off like that after punching Chase. The Astral Pulse was apparently sitting for us in a warehouse and would be a priority for tomorrow. But if the night continued, I didn’t know what the next fucking curveball would be thrown my way. Going to bed and ending this fucking day was the fastest way to start processing all this shit. 

“Chase? Are you alright?” I ask, walking up to him and Mandy. 

Chase ducks my gaze, hand holding his jaw as Malevola steps back from him. 

 “No broken bones, but the bruise is going to be gorgeous,” she calls out. “Also, you have a cavity in one of your molars.”

Mandy guides Chase past me. “That’s enough for tonight.” She says, raising her eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry this turned into... whatever just happened.” 

Mandy turns and surveys the room. “Not one word to anyone at work what happened here tonight,” her tone stern, but controlled. It was her ‘Blonde Blazer voice’. “Got it?”

A knock at the door draws my attention as some people mutter in agreement. I hurry forward. Invisigal had left her phone, may she had come back, if she and Chase could talk it out and this wouldn’t be such a cluster fuck that we’d have to deal with in the morning. 

“Invisigal–” I start.

There’s a flash of orange, something green, and a fist is the last thing I see. 

I wake up to Punch-Up staring me in the face. Head throbbing slightly. 

“Training paying off Robert, two clean punches of the night.” 

I blink at him, my memory a haze through…actually the recollection comes through quite clearly. Opening the door after Chase had been punched, the night unceremoniously ended by the biggest blowout between him and Invisigal. A blur of orange and brown that was…probably Flambae?

I glance around the apartment.  I’m laid out on my new couch as Waterboy…sweeps my floor?

There’s no one else besides the three of us.

“What happened?” I ask slowly, expecting an aching jaw or a swollen tongue. I feel neither and I brush my tongue against my teeth. There’s an aftertaste of blood, but no broken skin.

“Hot head came by to apologize and party,” Punch-Up says, a beer in his hand that he sips slowly as he watches my return to consciousness. “Unfortunately for him, the party was over. Mal fixed you up, took your buzz, and went into town with him and some of the others for round two. Royd and Ms. Blazer took Chase home.”

“She… took my buzz?” I say, gingerly sitting up, expecting my head to swim slightly. It doesn’t. Or at least not to the level that I’m expecting. 

Punch-Up shrugs, eyeing his own bottle. “She said something about taking the symptoms, not the source. I didn’t pay much attention. She did say you’ll still get the full hangover though. The boy and I stayed back to make sure you didn’t swallow your tongue and die.”

“Thanks.” I say flatly, looking around the apartment once more. The place was littered with solo cups, beer bottles, and paper plates. Every available surface has something scattered on it. 

Head wise, I did feel slightly buzzed, but it was greatly reduced, like I had only had a drink or two. My stomach on the other hand felt bloated, heavy. From what I knew about Malevola’s power, she must have transferred everything from the metabolized alcohol, leaving the most recent stuff to still be absorbed by my body. 

Neat.

Some noise draws my attention away from my body and I eye the tall youth crouched over the floor near the front door. 

“Waterboy, what are you doing?”

He starts, eyes glancing at me before he turns back, gingerly raising a dustpan to a trash bag. “Flambae had…a lamp,” he says quietly, gesturing to a large green office lamp with a broken bulb. “It… he broke it,” he says gesturing to the floor. 

I glance down at the floor and frown at some kind of stain that’s also been partially cleaned up. 

“You also bled a bit.” he adds helpfully. 

“Right,” I say, feeling a wave of physical exhaustion hit, adding onto the mental and emotional fatigue of the day. “Thanks for the help.”

I waved the two of them off, reassuring them that I’d clean up the rest myself. Waterboy looks like he was going to protest, but Punch-Up took him by the shoulder, reassuring him that I’d be fine. 

I am grateful to the diminutive man. With the absence of a room full of people, or a system full of booze, I think Punch…Colm…clued into just how fucking done I was with the day. Now with it being past midnight, a trashed apartment and thankfully no concussion, I just had time to…think. 

I make a mental list, muttering through each topic out loud as Beef judges from the couch. The dog was very pleased with the new addition to the apartment. 

“So first there’s the Chase shit.” I tell him, as I tie off the first trash bag and grab a second one. “Or maybe I should say there’s a lot of Chase shit.” 

A lot was an understatement. A drunken recollection of what he had said weeks ago, the not quite argument and conversation we had when I had first woken up after the failed test, and now this evening’s blowout with Invisigal. Each interaction and topic tangentially connected in a tangled mess. 

‘-instead of fucking PLAYING BRAVE BRIGADE WITH FUCKING CRIMINALS!’

“I don’t give a flying fuck about them. I care about you. You're the one getting road rash when they're the ones picking this road and the speed.” 

“Robert doesn’t need to keep going out there with no powers putting his life on the line to make up for assholes like you. He doesn’t need to be Mecha Man to be a hero.

There was so much there to unpack, and not all of it related to me, his blowout with Invisigal was a new level of vitriol and anger I hadn’t seen before… I’d known he hadn’t cared for her, seeing her more like an obstruction and blocker for me and SDN, but those words have been personal… 

I start with the mess on the floor and the corners. A few screws and tools from when Malevola had installed her lamp. 

“Why don’t you go walk your ass around a mall, Grandpa. Heroes are talking.”

“Fuck,” I sigh, the trash bag cut from broken glass that Waterboy had swept up. I grab a second to double bag it. Yeah, the dynamic there was fucking complicated to say the least. 

‘I wanted you back in the suit, Mecha Man back to fucking get Shroud, but I also fucking wanted to fucking talk! To fucking see you again! To maybe have you help out fucking Mandy and then fucking stop by once in a fucking while!’

‘All it takes is one of them to fucking relapse. Talk to some old friends, get too tempted by some underground broker. And if any one of them become a villain again, they’re going to have the fucking silver bullet to really really fuck up Mecha Man’s day. ‘

I sigh and look at the partially filled bag. This was… a lot. I turn and eye the bottle on the counter, some of the whiskey still visible through the glass. I only take a step before I hear a huff. 

Beef had rested his chin on the couch, his eyes watching me. 

…

…

Judging. 

…

…

“What? It’s not like anyone else is going to come in tonight!” I justify. “Day’s over. Just a nightcap.”

Beef continues to stare, ignoring my words. 

I huff and grab the bottle, quickly pouring out the remaining liquor in the sink. 

“Happy?” I ask, throwing the bottle into the trash bag. 

Beef yawns and rolls over onto his belly, his eyes still watching me. 

I ignore him and turn back to cleaning up my mess. 

So, Chase was… jealous of the Z-Team? Wary of them? Visi’s comments set him off and he in turn laid into her. 

Then there was…everything about the Astral Pulse and being Mecha Man. We’ve found the pulse. It wasn’t destroyed or lost. 

Which puts a lot of my earlier conversation with Beef in an awkward place. Was it true? Or had been trying to cope with the idea? Come to terms with what the rest of my life was going to look like. 

…Did it change anything? Do I feel…different about being Mecha Man?

I pause, staring at the last cup near the couch but not really seeing it.

Did I want to stop?

Maybe even get married. Hell, if Mecha Man was truly dead and in the fucking ground then why not- 

I wince and grab the cup and turn my way towards the kitchen.

I know I have baggage. Trauma. It’s been recommended that each superhero have a therapist, some social movement push five or so years back. Someone to talk things out with. I’d even looked into it, a few intake sessions. But therapy needs money and superhero therapists need to be the best at client confidentiality. At the time it just seemed like a huge drain on resources and a security risk. And steel wasn’t cheap. 

There’s some shouting through my walls; some neighbor on the floor above having an equally bad evening. 

…Until this year, it had been fine. It was easy to always look forward, focus on the here and now. Just a box that you left in the back of your closet or on the high shelf. You knew it was there. You knew it’d be better to take it down and clean it. But there it was contained, out of the way, it wasn’t a part of your daily life. 

But it seems like everything's been coming out now. Shroud, back on the streets. Chase, Mandy, fuck, even Flambae, for a really random curveball. This new way of living at SDN shaking skeletons from my closet and forcing me to look at the last fifteen years as Mecha Man. 

A shaky weak grin. 

“Just let Robert out of the suit every once in a while? You hear? I still need a drinking buddy.”   

The Z-Team might fuck up for a while, but at some point they’re gonna get good. And when that happens, they’ll make a difference. A bigger impact than I ever could alone.

Was it right to just continue on? Another fifteen years in the suit? 

…

I sigh as I grab the three bags everything fit into and pull them towards the door. I examine them, it was honestly impressive how much they had drunk and eaten in only a few hours. I lift one, testing the weight. Doable for all three, but it’d be exhausting carrying them all out to the dumpster. And wasn’t one supposed to be recycling? Had they given us a new recycling dumpster? Or was it still missing after some small time super had stolen them? I squint at the bags before shrugging, fuck it, they could sort it at the junkyard. I grab one and reach for my keys. 

My grab for my keys goes a little off and I end up pushing them off the kitchen counter. 

I let them fall and decide to leave them behind. I’d only be gone for a minute or two, I didn’t have to lock up behind me. 

Whatever the fuck I decided to do, day by day seemed to be the right way to approach it, especially given that in the last 24 hours I went from a new astral pulse, to being exploded, to trying to reconciling never being Mecha Man again to suddenly finding the original astral pulse. Maybe hour by hour would be better?

I try to put it behind me, to focus on just taking the trash out and going to bed, but different ideas, moments of the last day keep popping up behind my eyes. Like sudden popup ads each time I feel like I could just… be…

God… the fallout of this night was going to be damn awkward tomorrow morning. Z-Team definitely talking or at least strongly alluding to it. Mandy and Chase…

I slow my steps as I spy a hunched figure sitting on the curb. 

Or not.

I take a deep breath in through my nose, feeling the cool night air almost burn my sinuses with how the cold air rushed up against my headache. 

Alright. Fuck a hangover and sleep, day’s not done. 

I call out to Chase, “Sir, you can’t park there. That’s a red zone.”

I was expecting snark, but Chase just glances at me, his face guilty. 

I sigh and walk to take a seat next to him on the side of the curb. “Thought you went home.” 

“Came back to apologize.” Chase says, his voice low. He glances at me, “All these goddamn apartments look the same.”

I nod as he continues to speak. “That guy watchin’ us from the balcony? Walked into his house thinkin’ it was yours. Sorry about that!”

“FUCK YOU!”

Well, that’s not called for. “Hey! He said he was sorry!” I say staring up at the shirtless guy. 

Was the dude naked?

“FUCK YOU TOO!”

“Alright, let’s get inside and leave the angry naked man to whatever the fuck he’s doing on his balcony.” I say loudly, not looking up at my apparently pissed off neighbor. 

“I’ll call the cops!”

I ignore him, offering Chase a hand up. “Mandy just let you come back on your own?” 

“I gave her the slip,” Chase says, waving off my question as we both begin to walk back to my apartment. “She hasn’t seen my new place and told her I lived just a few blocks over.” 

“Yeah?” I ask with interest as I open the door to the inner courtyard. “Where do you live?”

“Got a small house over in Carson, my parents left it to me.” Chase explains as he lets me guide him to the stairwell. 

It’s quiet as we climb the steps. 

Chase and I hadn’t talked about family since I started at SDN. Back when he was my babysitter, I knew that he had moved out from living with his parents when he joined the Brave Brigade. 

“Are they still-”

“Alive?” Chase interrupts. “Yeah, pops retired a while ago and they moved out of state. Doing that thing old people do when they retire. Start going on trips and buying a shit ton of old ass furniture.” 

I chuckle as we turn on a landing, continuing up.  “Good.” This must have been the stairwell Golem had used, a few large earthly footprints coating the chipped paint. One of the railings was bent in a way I was pretty sure it hadn’t been before tonight.

…

…

Have I ever met his parents?

I glance at his throat as we continue to climb the steps. “Need some ice for that?” 

“Nah,” Chase waves a hand. “I’m still super, I was just winded since she got me in my Adams apple.”

I nod and we climb the last of the stairs in silence. I sigh a bit as we open the door, Beef already sniffing at the two remaining trash bags. 

“Here, you can sit on the couch,” I say gesturing to the couch as I reach for the second bag. “I just gotta-”

“Please Robert, I’m old and depressed, not infirm.” Chase snarks, grabbing the bag before me. “You take that one, I got the other.”

We pause briefly for Chase to pet Beef before leaving. Walking back the way we came. It’s quiet.

“Depressed, huh?” I say into the silence as we both carry our bags of trash. 

“You try going from the prime of your life to twilight years in a few months.” Chase grunts, pushing open the door to the stairwell. “It’s hard to be happy about life when everything just reminds you how little bit you have left. Makes you bitter.”

I think back on his words from the past day, the bitterness and disdain he seemed to hold for the Z-Team. 

Playing Brave Brigade with criminals…

Chase continues to talk as we make our way out of the building. 

“Then you have fucking greenhorn newbies trying to figure shit out and it’s just…exhausting to watch. People making the same fucking mistakes, saying the same aspirational shit about how they want to change and be better and make a damn difference!” Chase says, his voice growing slightly heated. His motions tight as he holds his bag of trash. 

Then he seems to deflate, exhaling deeply as he leads the way to the dumpster. 

“Then you watch them fucking cave the second they reach a real challenge.” he says quietly. 

Chase grunts as he throws the bag into the trash bin. It catches on the corner and tears open, bottles and greasy pizza-stained paper plates raining out into the bin. 

“I didn’t fucking cave, even when the damn Brigade collapsed. And it was just me running the streets, doing my duty.” He says, old rage stirring, his eyes alight as he glares at the dumpster before the fire fades again, faster, just leaving exhaustion and wrinkles. 

“I shouldn’t have cut you out of my life Chase,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry. If-”

“Robert,” Chase cuts me off, staring at me with a bitter smile. “You were a kid. One that had to fucking meet the moment. You and I both had to fill the gap that the Brigade left behind. Sure, it would have been fucking nice if we could have done it together instead of apart. But you did what you had to do to feel safe at the time.”

How do I know Chase? I had screamed at him, as he stared at me from his hospital bed. ‘How do I know that you’re not some mole as well? Or Monarch? He killed my dad! Is one of you going to try to kill me?”

Old words, old hurts, bubbling up, the little box of baggage in the back of my mind throwing up old memories. They burned in contrast to Chase’s bitter smile. Unhappy. But understanding. 

“It’s all in the past,” Chase says, turning back to the building. 

“Chase,” I say, finally speaking up. He pauses, not turning around. 

“We joke, we laugh, we suppress our trauma.” 

Not this time. 

“I was wrong,” I admit. “It didn’t make me safe. It didn’t help. It left me alone.” 

I walk up beside him, and he turns his head slightly. Something…raw in his gaze. For a moment, I could see through the wrinkles to the young man who had babysat me all those years ago. Who looked at my dad and the other Brigadiers with such devotion and expectation. Ready to live up to the standard they set for him. 

“I…” I cough and clear my throat. “These last few months have been…" Everything,” I say, looking down for a moment to try and compile my thoughts. 

Chase and I are getting drinks and eating dinner together. Splitting lunch and talking shit while I worked on the Mecha Man suit. Watching him play with Beef and helping me take him on walks and for bathroom breaks during the workday. Playing fucking minigolf while trading hero horror stories next to a giant plaster dragon. 

Feeling that…gap…that longing for something finally feel…full.

“I could have used all these years ago. It was stupid that I didn’t reach out sooner.”

Chase blinks at me, his eyes wet. “Shit,” he says with a partial laugh as he rubs at his eyes. “If we go any sappier, we’ll need to start drinking again.”

“I thought I was cut off.” I saw with a smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

Chase does the same, before quickly pulling me into a hug. 

“Thanks, kid.” 

I grab us both a cup of water, both of us slightly winded from carrying out the trash and walking up the flight of stairs multiple times. 

And the crying and emotions, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“You sure this ain’t vodka?” Chase asks, staring into the cup, leaning out on the balcony railing. 

I sigh and rest my own weight on the railing. “She told you,” I say with a smile.

“When I told her I knew a guy who’d done some pretty amazing stuff, I didn’t know you were doing stuff like that,” Chase jokes, turning more towards me. “Kinky shit. It’s that internet. Somehow made sex boring.”

“Okay, now you sound how you look.” I return, taking a sip of my water. A smile on my face.

“Another thing I can’t do anymore. Fuck.” he says, looking into his cup. “Maybe it’s why I say the word so much.”

“Ah. I’m sorry, Chase.” I apologize. “I hadn’t thought about that.” 

And it's true. Chase tried so hard to shrug off his age. To ignore and power through any shit he felt about it. It was something he’d joke about, snark about. But not an actual conversation or complaint. If you were the one asking you could expect an insult and denial. 

“I had a pretty good run.” Chase says quietly into the night. 

I turn and look with him, looking out at the light of LA. Even at…whatever time it was. LA wasn’t dark or dim. There were shadows, but with all the streetlights, there was just this… persistent glow to the sky. 

Technically he was right. Fifteen years was an incredible time to last in the Superhero business.

…

…

Eighteen for Chase.

“You ever think about why we do what we do?” Chase suddenly asks, “Help people?”

I turn over the question as I look out. Did it say anything that, for the last several hours, as I’d tried myself in knots about who I was or what I did, that I didn’t think too hard about the specific people in LA I’d be helping or leaving behind? 

“Put it all on the line for someone who won’t ever know your name. Won’t send you a thank you card. Won’t be at your bedside when you get hurt.” Chase continues, his tone oddly subdued. 

“Honestly, I don’t think I know specifically why.” I admit, looking into my own cup. “I guess I just like helping people. It’s how I’m wired. Offering a hand, standing up against shit. It’s… it’s the right thing to do.” 

Because wasn’t that the fucking point of being a hero? That it didn’t need to be someone who knew you personally? That it didn’t matter, other than they were in need and you could do something about it? You’re a person, they're a person. People help people. So, get out there and help.

Chase grunts as my answer, turning to me. “And now you’re trying to rewire a bunch of criminals. Aren’t you worried that a buncha former villains actually get that same juice from the opposite? From hurting people?”

And here it was again. The Z-Team. The main thing that we’ve been butting heads over for the last few days. 

Your job is to dispatch these criminals and make sure they don’t kill someone, 

You’re playin’ them, you’re playin' yourself. You think you’re invisible but I fuckin’ see you.

You are no hero!

…

…

The others gasped when Chase said that. That was…important for some reason. Shock. Offense. That declaration had hurt, not just Invisgal but the entire team. 

Invisigal was standing so still. Holding herself so tense. She wasn’t shrugging it off, snapping back with the same vitriol. Each word landed. Genuinely hurting her. 

I have fuckin’ villain powers! I can turn invisible and skulk in the shadows. My powers let me steal shit and watch famous people fuck. Being a villain is my fate.

A sad scoff. 

 It’s in the fucking stars.

“That first week, Visi was gonna walk off the team.” I say instead, Chase’s brow furrowing as he listens. “She was feeling low. Talkin’ about how she was born with powers that always meant she’d end up as a villain... like it was fated.”

“So, obviously, I gave her the pep talk. You know, like, that’s all bullshit, you make your own fate, yada, yada –” I trail off, looking out at the city again. “I don’t even remember what I said, but I do remember thinking, ‘oh fuck... yeah, that must’ve been hard.’ Like, if I didn’t have you, you know, and my dad, where would I have ended up?”

“You were always good.” Chance grumbles into his cup, “That was always in you. It’s what makes us different from a thief like her. “

I laugh, bumping my shoulder against him. “Oh, come on. You’ve stolen things too.”

“What? You racist motherfucker!” Chase shoves his cup towards me, taking a step. “I’ve never stolen a fuckin' thing in my entire fuckin’ life. “he proclaimed. 

This guy. 

“Chase... you’ve literally stolen things for me.” I say with a smile. So many things. Twinkies, drinks here and there. Even small things, helping us get to the front of lines and trespass a few places that we wouldn’t have been able to get to otherwise. 

Chase blinks, the energy sapped from his body. “Oh... yeah but that don’t count.” he protests. “It was for somebody else... “

We both turn to look over the balcony. And I let the silence last a moment. I wasn’t worried, I realized. The Z-Team was well on their way to being great heroes. Rough around the edges, but…

Prism looking at me in the conference room, shoulders tight. 

“I don’t know…how to not be me.”

Waterboy’s voice coming in over the comms, the new hero forgetting to mute his mic again. 

“I guess it’s time to…Punch out?”

Punch-Up walking away, headed out the back of the Sardine, reaching for his phone. 

“Going to make a call first,” he says over his shoulder, moving with purpose. 

Visi standing in front of the leader board, fishing her phone out of her pocket to celebrate her little win. 

…

…

They had what it took.

I sigh, content. “You quietly contemplating?” I ask, glancing at Chase. 

“Yeah... I guess I hadn’t considered some things…” he says, looking back at me. “But I think the answers are out there... if you just listen to the wind... “

I raise an eyebrow and look out at the city….before the sound of Chase’s fart quickly fills the silence. 

I chuckle. There’d been one summer when a new burger place had given us both gas when I was a kid. Chase and I had spent the whole evening making fart jokes and giggling at each other. Vitality had kicked us out of the Brave Brigade space due to how much it was distracting her and Monarch at the time.

“I see why you and Beef get along.” I say lightly. 

“Oh, where is my guy?” Chase asks, turning to the apartment, glancing around. He quickly opens the sliding door and steps back inside. Reaching down to pick up the dog. “Oh. I’m sorry. My poor boy.” he coos. 

I roll my eyes as I follow in after him. Making my way to the kitchen to refill my water cup. 

A flashing light catches my eye. My SDN work terminal…the map was on. 

Hero Outside Coverage area.

…

…

Did someone leave their work earpiece in? 

“That’s it. There’s my good boy. Who’s a good boy? Beef is.” 

 I click on the alert icon and it routes me into the public camera… 

For a warehouse by the docks. A massive boat inside, massive container boxes stacked on top of each other.

Shit. 

Bullets are flying from the automated turrets, a half dozen shadow figures are jumping, flying, tearing through cargo crates and generally running amok. 

Invisogal was down in that mess. 

“Is there a mic on this? Hey! Hey, can you hear me? The fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, not much. Just lookin' for your stupid ass pulse,” The reply comes back quick and slightly breathless. “That's somewhere on this on this big ass boat. But someone musta dropped a pin in the supervillain group chat cause this place is crawlin' with dipshits.” I quickly cycle through the cameras, quickly locating the little purple and black figure pressed up against a cargo container. “Good news is they don't know where it is either.”

Double Shit.

This is a fucking nightmare.

“You know who’s not good, Beefy boy?” Chase asks the dog, “You know who’s a real pain?”

Not helping Chase.

“Visi, get out of there now!” I order. 

Like most interactions with Visi, she disagrees with the order. “Look, you're disappointed, I'm disappointed. I'm sure Chase'll have some shit to talk but I'm here, and this is our last chance of getting this thing. “

I clench my teeth as I start to type frantically. She was right. Unfortunately. Someone had gotten a lead on its location or worse, they were there on their own agenda. Either way, if they got the pulse or not, the entire place would be locked down by this broker.  

“Okay, maybe if I can hack into the system, I can trace the energy signal, check the manifest, I don't know, something.” I say, slightly rambling as I try to use my own words to focus.

“Something would be great. Yeah, let's start with something.”

It’s fucking rough. The cybersecurity this Handles guy installed keeps trying to block me out of the system; the entire thing is on high alert as it tries to subdue the active threats in the warehouse. It needs me to be at the top of my game, and I’m nowhere near that right now. 

Chase watches, coming around to look over my shoulder as I hack and code. I trance the Astral Pulse to the captain’s quarters, and Visi starts to make her way in that direction. Constantly assailed by the low tier supervillains that had somehow known to show up tonight. 

How had they known to show up tonight?

Visi thankfully, is applying the weeks of training exercises. Weeks ago, at Grannies, Invisigal had sloppily tried to ambush Thunderstruck. A tactic that quickly failed as each attack and counterattack gave away her location. A failed ambusher.

Tonight, she’s almost unrecognizable. Instead using her invisibility to aggressively push forward, punching and kicking. Turning invisible at key moments so her opponents don’t know where to guard or dodge. Covering her advancements and retreats.

She flashes in and out of view of the cameras, constantly moving, constantly in action. 

It’s not enough. 

I try to help however I can, amplified speakers to disrupt the villains, hacking the crane for a quick repositioning. It doesn’t feel like enough. I’m using them partially because they’re the only systems I can access. The central defenses, the machine gun turrets and other defenses are on some independent system, siloed off from the internet. And the longer I’m in the system, the quicker the security measures seem to lock me out of the different parts. 

On a small popout, I watch tensely as Invisigal waits for me to open a fucking safe, while I reboot and try some more algorithms. Something, anything that could help me somehow hack a safe that was more manual than electronic. 

The walls of my little shitty apartment feel claustrophobic as I continue to try and try. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I mutter under my breath. I’m too drunk for this. Too tired. I need to be more. To focus. To get u-

“Alright, safe’s open,” Visi says over the coms. “Good job Bob.” 

My brow furrows. I hadn’t finished trying my bypass. “Wait, what? I didn’t even-”

“Apparently, you did something, because it’s wide open. Whatever, job done, take the win.” Visi rambles nervously.

I sigh but choose to take her advice. I could look into things when she was safe and out of this clusterfuck. 

“Is it in there?” I ask, the knot of tension like a stone in my chest. The camera in the room is only angled at the doorway. All I can see is the little corner of Visi’s shadow as she stands by the safe.

There’s a pause, and I almost ask again before-

“I don't know, does it look like a little glowy butt plug?”

It’s there. The Astral Pulse. Holy fuck, it’s there. 

And then the system shuts down. The cameras cut out.

Visi’s voice is frantic as I swear and have to route back in. “Robert?! What's going on?”

“I’m here.” I reassure her, rebooting the system itself. Something had cut the main power into the building. Backups were kicking in but… “Just hang on, trying to get the camera back online–”

A dimly lit view is pulled up. One of the shitty pseudo night vision cameras. Two villains collapsed at Visi’s feet as she blindly navigates down the stairs. 

“I see you. You're good. Just take one step at a time.”

And then a shadow moves and he’s there. Shroud. I feel like I can’t breathe. Rage is there, but its primarily fear as Visi passes within inches of him. 

“No. Invisigal, stop. Shroud! Behind you!” I shout, but the warning came too late.

He throws her down the stairs, tossing out a smoke grenade… and grabbing the briefcase. 

Smoke. Asthma. Fuck. I check, fucking hell, I check again, but there’s nothing for me to hack. No power I can reroute. Nothing. 

“No. No no no no.”

Shroud walks over, casually. As Visi choked on the smoke at his feet. 

All I can do… is watch. 

“Hey! Visi! Stay calm. Your inhaler is just a few feet in front of you! Okay? You gotta get to it!” I babble. I can’t help it. There’s nothing for me to do. Nothing else but talk to her, get her more information. 

It’s not enough. 

“No! Hey, Visi, he’s just gonna keep fucking with you but you don't give up, okay?”

Shroud kicks her inhaler away. Courtney tries to crawl after it, coughing, choking.

Dying. 

“Visi! Visi, you gotta fight! Please, Visi!” I plead. This was hell. She was going to die because of me. Because of the Astral Pulse. I continue to talk, saying anything to keep her awake, keep her moving. Quickly cycling through the few systems I was keyed into. There had to be something, anything I could do. I couldn’t just stand here and watch her die. I needed to do…anything! “Hey, you listen to me. You get up. Get up!”

My blood is pounding in my head, my blood pressure skyrocketing as I stay glued to the small screen in my small shitty apartment halfway across town where I can’t even do fucking anything. 

…

…

Beef’s on my lap. 

…

…

What?

I look over. Chase is there, looking at me. His expression relaxed, one arm up in the air as though-

“Keep up.”

No. 

I shout. “No!”

Chase is gone. A familiar blur visible for less than a second before he vanishes. The door left wide open. 

I turn back to the monitor, and it’s maybe a minute for Chase to arrive, save Visi, and take her halfway across town, the old man setting her against a tree. 

“Okay,” I whisper, I watch, holding my own breath. Maybe he was fast enough. Maybe he had one last go in him. Maybe he was fine and he’d just need to stop after-

Chase takes three steps…before he collapses. 

No. 

I stumble from the chair, setting Beef down before grabbing my jacket. My wallet… my keys…

“Chase! Hey! Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up!

God damn it. 

“Where's my fucking keys?”

“No. NO! No, no. Don’t fucking do this!”

I find the keys and throw the door fucking open. 

“Please. Please, please, please Chase…”

I sprint to my car. 

I’m working on homework at the kitchen table, my textbook and calculator spread out before me. I need to focus. I only barely qualified for pre-calculus and if I didn’t pass this year, I’d have to repeat the class. I needed to pass so I could start high school in the advanced math classes. 

Why did polynomials have to be so fricking frustrat-

“Robert, this is Track Star. Starting today, he’ll be looking after you while I’m away.” 

I look up from my math homework and stare at the tall teenager standing next to my dad. It was happening! My dad hadn’t told me but I knew he was inviting a new hero to the Brave Brigade. His calendar had all the weird meetings in the afternoon. 

I quickly hop out of my chair and hold out my hand. Dad always talks about how first impressions are important. 

He’s wearing a lot of red and blue with some white accents. He gives me a smile and a nod. A superhero one. I’ve seen dad give other heroes similar nods whenever they come to visit the Brave Brigade hideout.

…

…

Dad said I’m not allowed to call it a lair. 

“Hey there little Robbie! How’s it going? You can call me Star for short.”

I scowled up at him. “I’m Robert,” I say carefully, trying to say it in the way my dad does. “Not Robbie.” 

Track Star exchanges a glance with Dad. “I see where he gets it from.” he says dryly. 

“So, are you also a Superhero?” I ask, trying to hold back the excitement. 

Track Star was young. Like, the youngest hero I’ve seen! How long has he been a hero? What were his powers? He had to have powers; his lack of sleeves would be a danger otherwise. How did he-

“Fu- I mean, hell yeah I am,” he says quickly looking over at Dad. “You're looking at the newest member of the Brave Brigade!” 

I can’t help the mix of jealousy and awe that colors my gaze as I look at the tall teen’s proud smile. 

He looks like a hero. 

“Well, I’m going to be a hero too! And then I’ll be the next member of the Brave Brigade.” I say sullenly. 

Track Star laughs, and with a quick blur he’s suddenly behind me…

…

!

Driving his fist into my hair! A noogie! 

No!

“You’re going to have to try hard to keep up, squirt.” Track Star laughs. “Being a hero is a lot of responsibility!” 

“I know!” I slap his hand and step back, out of his reach. “I’m ready to be a hero!” I say, glaring at the teen. 

Track Star blurs again and- no!

“I’m sure you are,” Track Star says dryly as I thrash in his headlock. I turn my head and-

“Ouch! Fucker! Did you just bite me?”

My Dad sighs from across the room.