Chapter Text
If you asked most anyone on Z-Team, two months ago they’d say they don’t really care much for anyone else. Golem had his adopted Kaiju and Flambae had his niece and the family that came with it, but most everyone else tended to say they didn’t care. It was easy to keep yourself from being hurt if you stayed distant. Sure, Coupè and Punch Up had some weird fling that was absolutely still active, but the rest were there to do a job. That’s what they claimed.
Robert Robertson III was the one weakness to those claims. He was the first person who truly seemed to believe in them, treating them like people but not putting up with their shit. He called them out, pushed them hard, made them believe they could be heroes one day. He kept up with the banter, fought tooth and nail when things got out of hand in the Sardine and proved time and time again he wasn’t a bitch when it came to pain. Most of them still remember after Shroud had been defeated, when they’d gone out for good food and better drinks where Robert had revealed just how much pain he’d really been in. Mal had sniffed it out first, noticing a persistent smell of hurt hurt hurt that didn’t seem to fade. All of them had it, but this particular scent was strong. Sonar had just confirmed it, sniffing the air then poking at Robert’s side. Robert had reluctantly admitted that he’d been tortured shortly before the battle, which led to Mal pulling him into her lap as she healed him. He didn’t fight it much.
After that night, they’d all agreed that Robert needed to be looked after. His apartment had been enough to clue them in, but the fact that the man had been fucking tortured and then tried to move on like nothing happened really convinced them. They brought food and made sure he ate, they all pitched money to buy him not only a new mattress, but a bedframe and sheets to go with it. They regularly got him out of his apartment and tried their best not to get in fights in order to make sure he had a good time.
More than anything, Z-Team was incredibly protective of their dispatcher. The one time he picked up a shift for another team when theirs had to call out, Z-Team had damn near thrown a riot. Anyone who even looked at Robert wrong was usually met with several deadly glares and silent threats. One night when they were out, somebody had tried to mug Robert, pulling him into an alleyway and holding a blade to his neck. Said mugger had ended up in the hospital with a concussion and several broken bones, and Robert had been just peachy.
The day had started out bright and beautiful. The sun was high in the sky, the air was warm but not hot, and the worst of the worst criminals were hiding away. It had been so nice that Flambae and Prism had time to get milkshakes and they didn’t feel like vomiting afterwards.
“You know, as much as I appreciate being the knight in shining armor, I do appreciate days like this. Can we get more of these?” Flambae grinned, leaning against a red metal table with Prism.
“Wish it worked like that, Flambae, but no promises.” Robert’s voice called out. He sounded bored himself. At least they could get out and walk around Torrance. Robert was stuck at a desk all day.
“Got to admit, Hot Shot over here has a point. This has been great.” Prism tipped her head backwards, turning her face up towards the radiant sun.
“Gotta admit, it’s nice but I’m bored. Bobert, do we have any action?” Mal sighed over the comms.
There’s a yawn in response, but nothing else. Prism and Flambae look at each other. Sure, the day had been boring, but not that boring. Maybe Robert hadn’t slept well last night.
“Hey, Bob Bob, you didn’t answer her question. Wake up.” Flambae stretched his neck out.
“Hm?” Robert sounds…worn-down. More than he had mere seconds ago. Was he sick? He’d been fine when he came in that morning.
“Robert. Wake. Up.”
“Fuck, something’s…” Robert goes silent. There’s a clatter on the other end of the line, like something heavy has hit the ground.
“Robert? Hey, Rob, talk to us.” Prism tries to get a response. Nothing comes through.
“What the hell just happened?” Sonar asked.
“Don’t know. Chase, you there?” Invisigal tried, reaching out to the other dispatcher that was always there. Silence.
“They didn’t both fall asleep on us, did they?” Punch Up can’t decide if he’s worried or concerned. It would make sense if Chase fell asleep. Nothing was happening and the dude was old. But Robert? Robert seemed to suffer from basically every mental illness known to man, including insomnia. The chances of him falling asleep were extremely slim.
“Prism and I are going back to headquarters. Just stay where you are until we figure out what the hell is going on.” Flambae does his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Best case scenario, Robert and Chase are both sleeping or the connection between dispatchers and heroes just went down. Worst case scenario, someone was threatening Robert, and that was fucking unacceptable.
It takes them nearly fifteen minutes to get back to headquarters. The building looks fine from the outside. Nothing’s on fire, there’s no downed power poles, and the building is still standing upright. The construction had gone quickly thanks to the heroes ( largely thanks to Golem), and they were able to get back up and running within days. The lights were on and the AC could be heard running.
They’re about to enter when Prism suddenly grabs Flambae’s arm, pulling him back. “Hey! What the hell-” Flambae hisses out, going quiet when she shushes him.
“Look, right there. Two people knocked out. I don’t see any blood, and there’s no sign of forced entry. Robert got really tired before he went quiet. Gotta be drugs of some sort.” She points to the two secretaries that Flambae had originally missed.
“Did I hear you say drugs?” Sonar asked hopefully.
“Yeah, batbrain, you did. Looks like two of them are knocked out at least.” Flambae rolled his eyes.
“Sounds like a sedative. Might be aerosolized if if it got the secretaries and the dispatchers. Check the air conditioning units for any sort of canisters, but cover your faces. Especially your mouth and nose. The nasal tissue absorbs drugs almost instantly. Harvard studies right there.”
Flambae resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “I’ve got some stuff in my car we can probably use. I don’t particularly feel like going unconscious.”
“Ditto. Just don’t give me any of your gym clothes to wear. I do not want to breathe in your stank.” Prism curled her nose up.
“Relax. My sister’s a nurse. She had to deal with COVID. I carry around a box of N-95s. They’ll seal to our face and make sure we don’t breathe anything nasty.” Flambae pops open his trunk, throwing a mask to Prism before putting one on himself. He still remembers the first time he’d visited his sister after the pandemic started. She’d demanded he wear the mask and put on so much damn hand sanitizer he practically bathed in the stuff. He’d just gotten into the habit of carrying them around.
They began looking at the air conditioning systems. Flambae was just beginning to wonder what exactly he was looking for when Prism whistled, grabbing some sort of metal cylinder. “Jackpot! This thing was rigged into the main system. I can hear something sloshing around inside.”
“They probably used a really strong version to ensure it would spread everywhere. If either if you start feeling tired in there, just go ahead and get out and let us know.” Sonar explained it clinically.
“First goal is to figure out if anyone’s still awake. We’ll start pulling them out of the building as we go. We’ll need to try and find Robert too. Sounded like he might’ve hit the ground pretty hard.” Normally, Flambae would love to have that to hold over Robert’s head. The man just falling out of his chair on the floor? Priceless. Sure, they were…better than they’d been in the past, but it wouldn’t be Robert if they didn’t mess with him. However, this was more serious. Someone had risked an attack on the SDN dispatch center. Robert and countless others were being effected by it. They had assumed that it just knocked everyone out, but what if it had poisoned them? What if it was designed to kill and not incapacitate? They’d be at a major disadvantage.
Flambae knelt down next to one of the secretaries, placing two of his fingers against the small girl’s neck. He sighed when he felt a consistent thump. “Still alive. Think they’re just asleep. Grab that one, I’ve got this one.” He picked the limp form up, throwing it over his shoulder as he walked back out the door. He sets the girl out flat on the ground, watching Prism drag the other form out.
She drops him with a huff. “I blame Mal for this.”
“Me? Why me?” Mal sounds halfway offended.
“You’re the bitch who said she was bored and wanted something to happen. Ladi-fucking-da, something happened. Manifesting and all that shit.” She complained as they walked back into the building, eyes scanning for further victims.
“Ah yes, because I wanted our headquarters to get attacked. Not. I just wanted, like, a bank robbery or something. Maybe a bar brawl. Not this.”
“Whatever. There’s about to be a lot of people that we’ll need to move. We need extra hands. Just make sure you mask up before getting in here.”
The office was deathly quiet. No clacks of keys being pressed, no soft conversations, no footsteps walking the floor. Most of the operators had been lucky enough to pass out on their desk, an unfortunate few spread out on the floor. Flambae and Prism did what they could to move people, carrying them out of the building and setting them down in the parking lot. Mal was the first to arrive and a huge help, creating portals and lugging some of the larger forms.
She was also the first to walk over to Robert’s desk. She had heard the crash herself, knew that he was probably one of the ones she’d find on the floor. Beef and Chase were the ones she saw first, the dog curled up on the bed and Chase laying out on his desk. The headset was just barely hanging on, held up by his hair and the squish against the desk.
Robert’s desk was empty, as was the floor next to it. The headset was hanging off by the wire and his seat was pushed back halfway across the hall, which should have meant he’d fallen down. The issue was that there was nobody there. No form on the ground, so proof that there had ever been a living body laying there. It’s…concerning. Maybe Robert had made it further in before he fell asleep? She’ll have to keep looking. In the meantime, she carefully grabs Chase and Beef, walking them through a portal to the outside. Some of the other heroes from different teams have started to show up, assisting those already outside. The first two rescued are starting to wake up, smelling of pain and confusion. Those poor kids looked young, younger than even Waterboy had been.
It’s nearly thirty minutes before the last dispatcher is pulled from the building, set down next to the long line of operators. A lot of them are already waking up, majority of them complaining of headaches and all of them confused on what had happened. They’d all been working, then suddenly been overwhelmed with fatigue and fallen asleep within minutes.
There was still no sign of Robert.
Z-Team finally regroups outside of headquarters, the doors now getting sealed as a decon team sweeps the building. Nobody else will be going in until the place is scrubbed down and cleared of whatever this shit is. Invisigal has been complaining for the last ten minutes about her lunch, which is inside and inaccessible. Most everyone has caught on to the fact that Robert isn’t present, and it’s setting them all on edge. Had he somehow managed to get away? Had he made it out of the building? It was unlikely, especially with how quickly everyone had fallen unconscious.
Blonde Blazer walked over to the group, looking like she wanted to destroy the sun right about now. “Is everyone okay?” She asked, voice strained.
“Can’t find Robert. He wasn’t in the building, and he’s not out here anywhere.” Coupè said evenly, her tone betraying nothing.
Blazer sighed. “That makes three now. We’re missing the dispatchers for Q-Team and H-Team. Once decon clears it, I’m going to get back inside and look at the security cameras. We should have a shot of who fucked with the AC.”
“So what do we do for now?” Punch Up asked.
“Help keep an eye on the city. Most of the dispatchers are able to access the complaints from their phones, so just try to work with those who are awake. Once we’ve got more information, we can try to track down whoever did this. Just keep an eye out for the missing people, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to oversee the decontamination process.” She walks away, holding a hand up to the side of her head.
“I’m not about to sit on my fucking ass waiting. Royd should be able to access the cameras from out here. Let’s hope he’s awake.” Malevola scanned the crowd, looking for the large man.
He was sitting at the edge of the parking lot, leaning against the side of a green car. He still looked half asleep, like he’d just barely managed to wake up. He saw Mal before she knelt down. “Hey, Mal. You know what happened to us?” His accent was always comforting to Mal. Compared to the rest of the people she met here in LA, i t reminded her a lot of the natives over in New Zealand, where she would regularly visit when she was a child. They always had fun stories.
“Wish I did. Can you remotely access the cameras? We’re trying to figure out where Robert might’ve gone.” Mal tried not to let her tail flick impatiently. Royd was one of the few people who treated them all like they were worth something besides Robert. No need to piss him off, especially considering he’d just been through some sort of chemical attack.
Royd’s face melted into concern. “Robert’s missin?”
“Yeah. We’re just trying to figure out where he may have ended up. I know there’s a camera that points towards his desk, and we’re trying to get started before the trail can go cold. Can you help us?”
Royd nodded, pulling his phone out. “Jus’ give me a second. You think he’s okay?”
“I’m hoping so.”
Royd eventually pulls the cameras up. “How long ago did this happen? I…can’t remember.”
“Bout an hour ago, big guy. Let’s look at the office first. Just so we can see where he might have gone.” Mal sat down next to Royd, watching the small screen intensely. The office had been operating like normal, dispatchers sitting at their desks and talking with the people around them. Mr Whiskey would occasionally stop by a random desk and hand a mug of coffee off to the person sitting there. Robert was leaned back in his chair, smiling as he engaged in conversation with Z-Team. He looked completely relaxed. Everything was fine.
The change was sudden. All conversation ceased, heads and eyes dipping closed. Robert seemed to clock what was happening at the last second, standing up from the desk as he pulled his headset off. He lost his balance quickly, falling to the ground. Once he was down, he stayed down.
The pit in Malevola’s stomach deepened. She should have found Robert on her first sweep through the building. He should have been right there next to his desk.
Two minutes later, a trio of masked individuals showed up. Royd furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t recognize them. They must have been the ones who knocked us out.”
The trio stop by each desk, looking at the face of each dispatcher. Most of them get a shake of the head from the ringleader. One of them kneels down next to Robert’s body, rolling him onto his back and tilting his face towards the biggest form. The ringleader nods. The one kneeling down grabs Robert by the shoulders, dragging him away and out of the camera’s frame.
“What are they doing to him?” Royd’s eyes go wide.
“I don’t know. But they definitely know who their targets were. Can you get access to any of the outside cameras? We might be able to see where they went.” Fuck. Someone had taken Robert. Someone had risked an attack on the SDn headquarters to take a few dispatchers. Why? What was the purpose.
“Y-Yeah, yeah. He’s going to be fine…right? They took him alive. He’s got to be okay.” Royd turned to Mal. He looked…terrified. Clearly he and Robert had gotten close during the construction of the new Mecha Man suit.
“He will be if we can find him fast enough.” Mal put a hand on Royd’s shoulder. Royd was right about one thing: whoever was behind this had chosen to take the dispatchers alive. They could have very easily taken out the entire office, but they chose not to. If they were willing to go through this much trouble to take them, surely they wouldn’t kill them right away. It gave her time to try and find where they were.
The camera that Royd pulled up showed a plain white van outside the building. A fourth masked individual was seen pulling Maida, H-Team’s dispatcher, into the back of the van. The one dragging Robert came out the door a few seconds later, handing the brunet to the thug in the van. The last two come out with Sam, Q-Team’s dispatcher, before loading up and driving away. The whole thing is done in less than ten minutes, long before Prism and Flambae ever made it back. Planned and executed well.
“Thank you, Royd. I’m going to tell the rest of the team what I found. You take it easy for a bit, okay?” Mal stood up again. She could feel her blade against her back, begging for action. She was going to find who did this, and they were going to pay.
—
It was over six hours later before they finally got back into the SDN building. Most of the dispatchers and heroes had been sent home for the day. Z-Team, however, were crowding around the conference room. Mal had passed on the information that Robert had been taken, which had not exactly gone over well. Flambae had actually needed to take a few steps away and presumably burn some anger off. Someone had resorted to such a dirty fucking trick to take Robert in the first place.
They’d tried to follow the white van on the city’s cameras, but had lost it thanks to a "conveniently" timed blackout. It had lasted mere seconds, but it was enough for the van to completely disappear. It seemed the city was finally starting to spring into action too, calls coming in so frequently nobody could get away in order to track down where the van had disappeared to. It had only pissed Z-Team off more. Did SDN even care about what happened to Robert? They sure weren’t acting like it. Sonar or Mal could have sniffed out where the trail went, but it had taken so long to get them there that the scent had faded completely.
Blonde Blazer stepped into the room, carrying a laptop and a small flash drive. She looks angry. She said nothing as all eyes turned to her, setting the laptop down and plugging the flashdrive in. It seemed like she was teetering on the edge of destroying something.
“Okay, you’re clearly pissed. Have you found Robert?” Prism asked, fixing her lipstick. No need to poke an angry bear.
Blazer kept her lips purse for a few seconds. “We got an anonymous package with 3 thumb drives. No return address, no names, no fingerprints. All we had was a typed out letter demanding the release of the true events of an old case file. When we plugged this drive in, we found this. Access to a livestream.” She turned the laptop around, watching every ex-villain take in the sight.
It was a dark and dirty room, a single light from the ceiling illuminating the space. It’s a tiny room, barely any space to move. In the middle of the room is Robert. The man is tied up tightly, ropes binding nearly every piece of his body together. His wrists are tied behind his back and his upper arms are tied together, pinning them in place. He’s also tied at the ankles, knees, and thighs, making it damn near impossible to move. Worst of all, they’ve got a fucking black muzzle tied around his face. Even through the shitty livestream quality, they can see a ring of blood around his nose.
The good news (if there is any) is that Robert is moving. He’s stuck on his side but he’s fighting against the bindings, body contorting to try and get any leeway. He’s alive and he’s fighting, just like normal.
Sonar growls. “I’m going to fucking kill them. A muzzle? A fucking muzzle?!” Wood splinters as he digs his claws in.
“They’re all going to burn for this, the bastards.” Flambae snarls. The heat radiating off his body gets more intense by the second.
“I’ll make sure none o’ em ever think about having kids again.” Punch Up is shaking. It’s been a long time since he’s felt rage this strong.
Malevola resists the urge to slit someone’s throat. If only she knew where this was. She’d teleport in and get him out so fast he’d barely be able to blink. Not only is it bad enough that he’s trussed up more than a turkey, but the muzzle is dehumanizing.
Waterboy has never felt so nervous in his life. He really looked up to Robert. The man had taken a risk on Waterboy, a janitor turned hero who could barely get a sentence out. Now he was vulnerable, barely able to move and unable to talk. Even when shit hit him from all sides, Robert had a way of looking strong. He always held his own. But now he looked like…a victim. Someone who needed help. Someone who needed a hero.
“Wait, let me get this straight: whoever these fuckers are attacked the office and took three specific dispatchers all to get a file released?” Invisigal pinched the bridge of her nose.
“They believe SDN is hiding the true results of an investigation. They say if they’re not released within 48 hours, all of the hostages will die.” Blazer confirms.
“What case file?”
“It’s an older one. A hero named Mimic responded to a break-in. The offenders were still inside and killed one of the hostages. She was a single mother who left behind three children. A conspiracy theory came around that Mimic was the one who actually killed the woman. It was proven wrong thanks to our recordings, but a lot of people in Torrance still think that to this day. Mimic dropped pretty quickly in the rankings. They decided to switch the team he was on to help get some of the attention off of him. Clearly someone thinks the conspiracy is true.”
“More than thinks. They believe it.” Coupè can’t seem to stop looking at the screen. She wondered what was going through Robert’s head. Was he scared? Sure, he was a hero, but he was tied up and alone in a dark room. Or was he simply angry? He looked angry, emotion fueling every twitch and jerk. It was unlikely he had a good escape plan. He didn’t carry a blade (something Coupè would change whenever they got him back), and the knots weren’t giving no matter how much he squirmed.
Sonar feels the alarm bells go off in his head. The woman had left behind children. Someone really believed that hero killed the woman. Who would believe it better than the people who witnessed it? He had no idea what Mimic’s powers were, but if the name was any indication, it might explain the recordings. He didn’t know what part Robert played in it all, but he had a feeling he knows what teams Mimic was on. He’s not fully convinced of the hero’s guilt, but it sure seemed strange that so many people were willing to believe this conspiracy.
“Have we looked at the other two drives?” Prism is breathing deeply, like she’s holding off an inevitable explosion.
“Livestreams showing the other two dispatchers. None of them are in the same room, but neither of them are contained quite like Robert. We’ve got a team currently trying to look for any forensics tied to the package. You guys should go and get some rest. I know you’ll want in on the action when we go to save them.”
Sonar and Mal lock eyes. She clocks that he’s got a plan, and he clocks that she’s seconds away from destroying something. “Fine. Call if you find anything.” Sonar curled his nose, stepping through the portal Mal summons. It closes behind them quickly, silencing the growing complaints from the rest of the team.
“Alright, spit it out. What are you thinking?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I think we need to investigate the kids of the lady that got killed. Let’s check and see if they own any property in the area. We may be able to find something.”
—
Robert’s been in a lot of shitty situations before. He was Mecha Man on his own for years, no backup and nobody else that could patch up his wounds. This is not the first time he’s been tied up in a dark place. He can still remember how bad his ribs had hurt after Shroud tortured him, his wrists and legs carrying the imprint of the chains for several hours once he was freed. Besides, he’s had a couple of one night stands that like seeing him covered in rope. Apparently he was rather sexy all tied up and helpless.
He’s just never been left alone for this long while tied up. If a villain had him, they usually wanted information. If it was a sexual thing, he usually knew who he was with. More than that, he usually knew where he was. But he was stuck in a tiny little room, tied so tightly he could barely move, and he was still wearing all his clothes. He couldn’t even speak thanks to this stupid thing over his face. The skin around his nose stung from where it was biting into his skin.
He’d been trying to remember how he got to this place for the past…well, however long he’d been awake. It had been hard to keep track of time once he opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was being at work. He’d felt really tired, more tired than he normally did. Everything had gone quiet, and then it had all faded to black. Surely someone hadn’t been stupid enough to try and take him from work…right? That was practically a death wish. Not even just because he worked for a superhero dispatching agency, but because Z-Team were incredibly protective of him. They got pissy whenever he didn’t take care of himself. It was even worse when other people were threatening his safety.
Well, the situation could be a lot worse. All he had to do was keep trying to find a way out. Honestly, Z-Team probably wasn’t far away. He just had to keep fighting. Just like always.
—
Malevola sometimes wondered how Sonar could be so smart yet so dumb. In this instance, she was glad he was smart.
He’d been right on the money when he talked about one of them having property nearby. The oldest two had moved away, both choosing different states to live in. The youngest, a guy named James, owned one of the warehouses on the bay. He’d inherited nearly everything when his mother passed, excluding a few thousand bucks that she’d set to the side for the girls.
“God, this fucking brat seems like such a momma’s boy. He’s already been divorced twice. Seems like both of them thought he was in love with his dead mother more than he was with them.” Sonar complained, rifling through the court documents.
“Would explain why he seems so hellbent on this conspiracy theory. Looks like he inherited his mom’s business. Pharmaceuticals. Would give him good access to sedatives and the machines to aerosolize them. I think this is our guy.” Mal closed the laptop she’d been tapping on. James had dedicated nearly his entire life to honoring his mother, and not in a healthy way.
“Great. I’ll call the others.” Sonar picked up his phone, texting their groupchat (Be gay no crime, need to add raindrop) that they’ve got a lead. Somehow, miraculously, they all live within 5 minutes of each other. Hell, Flambae lives with Sonar and Mal. It takes no time at all for the others to make it to the apartment, each decked out in their work gear still. It’s clear they were all keeping an eye out for any information about Robert.
“Who’s dying tonight?” Coupè asks once she and Punch-Up walk through the door, already holding a knife in her hand.
“Hold on, we’re just waiting on Courtney. Besides, we’ll all need to decide if we agree that this is the right place. Don’t need to get benched because we broke parole if this isn’t where they’re holding him.” Mal kept tabs as everyone walked in. She really didn’t feel like explaining more than once.
“Hey, I’m a Harvard grad. If I didn’t think this was right, I wouldn’t have suggested it.” Sonar snorted.
Courtney finally slid in the door, closing it behind her. “I’m here! We found him?”
“Good. Now we’ve got everybody. But yeah, Sonar and I think we’ve got it. One of the kids of the lady that got killed owns one of the warehouses here in Torrance. Owns a pharmaceutical company. He seems to have been one of the biggest supporters of the conspiracy theory we can’t seem to stop hearing about. He’s been obsessed with his mom for most of his life. The only issue is we still can’t see where Robert fits in. Anyone opposed to checking the place out?”
Nobody says anything out loud.
A blazing red portal opens behind Mal. “Then it sounds like we’re in agreement. Game faces, people.”
—
Robert is starting to get tired. He’s tried everything he can think of, but these ropes are not getting any loser. His wrists are rubbed raw and the muzzle is super itchy now. He’s also still alone. Nobody has even walked by the door to the tiny room. They seem confident that Robert wouldn't be able to escape, and he’s sad to say they’ve been right so far. The ropes are all so tight that he can’t get them to slide down at all. All he’s done is made his shirt filthy and wear himself out.
His left arm is starting to go numb. It’s the strange kind of numb where his limb feels like it’s full of static, promising full numbness if he doesn’t move and get off of it. The issue is he can’t move. He can’t seem to get enough momentum to roll anywhere else. His hip is also starting to hurt, pressed against the cold stone floor for so long with nothing to cushion it. He’s not as skinny as everyone thinks he is (not anymore), but he also hasn’t had a lot of time to really bulk up like he wants to. He wonders who’s taking care of Beef. Hopefully Chase got out okay.
The door suddenly slides open, a well-built guy stepping through. He was cursing under his breath, glaring at Robert as if he’s the worst person on the world. “Fucking jackasses. They shouldn’t have been able to find us. I’ll make them regret it.” He kicks Robert onto his back, grabbing the muzzle harshly. Robert doesn’t make it easy for him, trying to yank his face out of the guy’s hands. “Hold still, you fucking bitch. God, just as fucking annoying as the rest of your team.” He hissed, pressing a vial onto the side of the device, and Robert is flooded with the smell of something chemical. His eyelids start getting heavy almost immediately, mind fogging up in an instant. Fuck, he’s getting drugged again. He needs to keep his eyes open. He needs to fight back.
He…he needs…to…
—
It becomes blatantly obvious they’re in the right place as soon as they step out of the portal. The room they’re in is just one that Malevola had picked at random, some sort of office. The walls were covered with pictures and red strings, Pictures of Mimic, newspaper clippings about the woman’s death, and strangely enough, pictures of Robert. The string did very little to illuminate the connections. Half of it seemed like the ravings of a madman.
“Dude, you weren’t kidding about the momma’s boy thing.” Invisigal whistled, looking at the mass expanse of pictures and clippings.
“Told you. Robert’s room seemed pretty nasty, so it was probably something in the basement. If I had to guess, the other two are there as well.” Malevola pulled her sword off her back, grinning at the gleaming blade. They were getting Robert back one way or another. Quite frankly, she hoped it involved violence.
“Can I burn this shit down?” Flambae asked, hands already alight with flames.
“Not yet. Need it for evidence. But you’re more than free to burn the bastard when we find him. Take off his hair. If he’s ugly, people won’t want to support him.” Prism rolled her shoulders.
Punch Up ignores the conversation, sliding out the nearby door. They would only have the element of surprise for so long. The warehouse is extremely sparse, only occasional conveyor belts covering the ground. There’s nothing active, no one walking around, no security system that seems to be in place. No signs of life. It was the perfect place to hold a hostage and not have anyone suspect.
The basement is filthy, grime coating nearly every inch of the floor. Punch Up can hear soft sobbing behind one of the doors, terror filling every hiccup. Fuck. He hopes the others aren’t far behind. Well, time to do what he does best.
The door crumples under his fist, revealing a slim woman in an SDN uniform. She’s sitting against the wall with her hands tied in front of her, pressing into a corner like it’s the last thing that’ll save her. “Easy, lass. Not here to hurt ye. I’m here to get ye out of here.” He slowly walks closer, holding his hands out to show he’s safe. She was still pretty new, from what he remembered. Barely there a week yet.
She stops crying, lips warbling as she looks over the Irishman. “...P-Punch Up?” She stuttered out. Her accent is nearly as thick as Colm’s is.
“Aye, lass. Let me undo those ropes and we’ll get you out of here.” Punch Up pulled at the knot, untying the rope and throwing it to the side.
“What h-happened? I was at work, and then…then…” She trailed off.
“Got knocked out and brought here. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you all out of here.” Punch Up led her out of the room, where Mal had finally caught up with him. It didn’t take long for Mal to make a new portal, sending Maida back to the SDN headquarters.
“Any sign of the others?” She asked, letting the portal close behind the distressed operator.
“Nah. She was the first I came across.” Punch Up rolled his shoulders. This had been too easy so far.
The next room they entered was equally shitty, this time holding a small man. He’s tied up in a similar fashion to what Maida was, bound hands already braced for a fight. Similar to Robert, Sam was an older retired hero who’d definitely been through this song and dance before. Thankfully, he puts his hands down once he realizes who just freed him. “Thought you were that little bastard.” He huffed out, walking out the door and allowing Mal to cut his bindings.
“He paid you a visit?” She asked, watching as Sam swept dirt off his shoulders.
“Yeah. Fucker was nuts, though. Demanded to know why I covered up for Mimic after all the shit went down. When I told him I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, he told me to stop lying and just admit the truth. We went in that circle for a while before he got tired and left. Stupid fuck. I wasn’t even dispatching for Q-Team when all that fuckery happened. I think he’s genuinely dumb as rocks.”
Mal opened the portal once more, letting Sam walked through. This guy was looking more insane by the second. It was like he’d done two minutes worth of research and then decided he was good to go. Maybe Robert wasn’t connected at all. Maybe this idiot had seen him and somehow, in his deluded mind, figured he fit in somehow.
It’s pure coincidence that Malevola and Punch Up run across the blond bastard dragging Robert out of the room by his collar. He’s unconscious again, scarily limp as he’s manhandled. They’re also reminded of the stark contract in restraints between Robert and the others. This guy treats Robert as if he’s a war criminal, every inch of his body bound in some way or another.
Punch Up is moving before Malevola can get a word in. He punches Douchebag’s right knee, forcing him down to the ground before his next fist connects with the fucker’s jaw. He wants to make this bastard hurt. He wants to humiliate him, make him into a small sniveling mess on the ground. His fists find new places to punch, new skin to bruise, until finally he punches the dude in his little micro-dick. It's not enough. He wants more. He wants blood.
Only one thing stops him: Robert. Mal is cutting through the ropes one by one, trying to find where all the injuries are, yet the powerless human doesn't move. Colm now has more to worry about than some pansy insano who can't take more than two punches. He moves away from Douchebag, hands going to unbuckle that atrocious muzzle still strapped tightly to Robert’s face. The blood is crusted around the edge, so much so that it sticks when Colm tries to pull it away. He can barely hide his disgust as he throws it to the side. The worst of the damage is right above the bridge of Robert’s nose, already trickling again.
“Good news is he’s not hurt too bad. Just his nose and his wrists. I’m going to take them off.” Mal raised her hand up, hovering over Robert’s face.
“Wait! Robert just got another dose of whatever that shit was. If you take the injuries, you might end up getting knocked out yourself.” Punch Up grabbed Mal’s hand before she could set it down.
She looked down at Robert hesitantly. “...But I can heal him.”
“Aye, and then you’ll be the unconscious one. We need to get Robert out o’ here, then we can worry ‘bout his injuries. Come on. You get Robert, I’ll carry fuckwad, and we’ll get out of here before Flambae burns the place down.”
“Thought we said not to burn the place down?”
“You really think he’s going to listen to us?”
“...You’re right. Let’s get Robert back before he wakes up.” Mal pulled Robert close to her chest, lifting him up as if he was lighter than a feather. Colm has a point, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. It was one of her portals that got them here, and while they could walk back, it would be easier if they had another of her portals. From what Flambae and Prism had said, it didn’t seem like it took the others long to wake up once they stopped breathing that shit in. Maybe Robert would do the same.
The others have been…busy. Most of the warehouse is trashed, walls burned and torn to shreds. There’s unconscious bodies everywhere, people wearing the same uniforms as those who’d taken the dispatchers. Courtney had found a long metal pipe and was using it to smash all the windows, grinning maniacally. Golem is eating most of the machinery, and Sonar is digging through the large stock bottles of drugs trying to find anything useful. Mal cleared her throat. “Looking for stuff you’re not supposed to have?” She raised an eyebrow at the bat hybrid.
He quickly turned his head up, eyes zeroing in on Robert. “Was trying to find something to help me transform. This guy doesn’t have anything good, anyway. He okay?” Sonar abandons the bottles, sliding in place next to Mal. His nose is sniffing like it’s on overdrive.
“Got drugged again. Blondie over there was trying to move him somewhere else. We need to leave before we get overrun by any more guys. Where are the others?”
“Coupè is currently circling the place to make sure nobody else got out, and Prism and Flambae said something about making the office match the man? I didn’t question it.” Sonar shrugged.
Invisigal finally stopped smashing the windows, panting as she dropped the pipe. “They went to ruin his office. Prism promised not to livestream it, but she did say she was going to take pictures.”
“Great. Let’s grab them and get the fuck out of here. I don’t want Robert to wake up in this place.” Mal rests her fingers on Robert’s throat, letting herself feel his pulse. It’s slower than normal, but it’s reassuring to know that he’s alive.
Flambae and Prism are actively destroying James’ office, tearing down furniture and lighting documents on fire. They’re clearly enjoying themselves. They’re currently taking a selfie as the others walk in, a stack of papers in the trash can offering a golden glow for the picture. “I love golden hour pictures.” She grinned, smiling at the photos.
“Glad to hear it. Can we get out of here now? Pretty sure the police will be here soon.” Invisigal looked out the window. Distant sirens could be heard, and they were getting closer.
“Damn. And I wasn’t finished yet.” Flambae whined.
“You can burn his hair off once we get out of here.” Prism pointed out.
“Good thinking. Alright, let’s get Coupè and leave. I wonder what designs I can burn in his scalp.”
Two sets of portals later, they were all back in the apartment. The bat hybrid sighed. “Man. We were in a pharmaceutical warehouse, and there wasn’t anything good. Disappointing.”
Mal rolled her eyes, setting Robert down on the couch. “You’re not supposed to have anything crazy anyway. Someone get a blanket for Robert.”
Flambae is a step ahead, throwing a thick red blanket over the sleeping form. “Do I get to burn the hell out of this fucker now, or what?” He points to the still unconscious bastard who has been dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Flambae looks impatient, tapping his top against the floor.
“You know what? Yeah. You guys take him into some alleyway and beat the snot out of him, then drop him off at one of the police stations. You can just leave him on the steps. Thanks for coming along.” Mal opens another portal, this one halfway across the city. Far enough away that none of them should get suspected.
“Oh, fuck yes. Come on, bitch. Let’s go assaulting.” Prism grinned, grabbing one of Douchebag’s legs and pulling him through the portal. Flambae and Invisigal follow through.
“I’ll pass. Just happy he’s okay. Can you send me home?” Golem shook his head with a sigh.
“Yeah. Go take care of your Kaiju.” Mal turned her attention to Coupè and Punch Up. “What about you two? Need a ride?”
Coupè shook her head. “No thank you. We’re less likely to be incriminated if we’re separated.”
“Sides, doesn’t feel right leaving when the lad hasn’t woken up yet. I’d like to stay for a bit.” Punch up walked closer to the couch, taking a spot on the opposite end from the dispatcher.
“Well, the more the merrier. Hopefully it won’t be too much longer.” Mal smiled. She still remembered how determined they had all been to not like Robert, to forget he existed before he left himself. Now here they were: breaking into some asshole’s warehouse to save Robert and anxiously waiting for him to wake up. The others were even committing crimes in Robert’s honor! They didn’t do that for any of their previous dispatchers. Robert really was something special, as much as he tried to deny it.
—
Robert is greeted with a pounding headache when he starts coming back to himself. He’s also really confused. The last thing he remembered was that crazy guy coming into his room and knocking him out. He certainly didn’t expect to be waking up on something soft, a clawed hand gently playing with his hair. He can feel something around his wrists, but it isn’t the harsh ropes from before. It’s still somewhat rough, but soft at the same time. Easily movable. Maybe…gauze? Even stranger, he’s not tied up anymore. He can feel each of his free limbs, no longer held so tightly together he can’t get an inch of moving room.
He hears an atrocious sound, something like a wounded animal whining. The hand in his hair pauses, moving to gently cup his cheek instead. A familiar voice gently shushes him. “Easy, babe. We’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Oh. The sound was him. He needs to open his eyes. He needs to see where he is now, to know who has him. His brain knows the voice is safe, but he needs to find who got him out of…wherever he was.
Another hand rests on his leg. It’s much larger than the hand cradling his head but just as considerate. “Mal’s right, lad. You just need to take it nice and easy. Take whatever time you need.” That voice is familiar as well. He should know who these people are.
Robert manages to open his eyes, but they drift closed again before he can stop them. The room he’s in is dark, a few soft lights around the edges illuminating the comforting space. His throat feels dry. He can’t remember when he last had something to drink. He thinks it might have been a sip of his coffee early in the morning, but he also doesn’t know how long he’s been gone. He could really use a drink right about now, preferably alcoholic. He tries to say something, something along the lines of whiskey, but all that comes out is another pitiful whine.
“Sonar, go grab me a bottle of water. Hang on, Robert. Water’s coming.” A hand wraps under Robert’s shoulders, helping him sit up and supporting his head. Robert tries to open his eyes again, catching a glimpse of a crimson face with bright yellow eyes that look at him in concern.
Malevola. Was that who it was? Fuck, he was already forgetting. He needed another look
A plastic rim presses against his bottom lip, cold water sliding against his tongue. It quenches his thirst and seems to wipe away the strange film that coats his mouth. If it was up to Robert, he would chug the whole bottle. He’d chug three bottles. Unfortunately, it’s taken away from him before he can do that. He manages a groan this time, something far less shameful than the last two sounds he’s made.
“I know. But i need you to wake up more. Don’t need you drowning yourself while you’re half conscious.” It’s that same voice from before, the one he knows belongs to the woman holding him up. He has to think hard, but her name comes to him for certain this time: Malevola. A demon who had been a villain, but was a hero now under SDN. Under Robert’s guidance as a dispatcher. So is the other one down by his feet. Punch Up. They must have saved him, pulled him out of the warehouse and into a safe place.
This time, Robert is able to keep his eyes open. Mal and Colm are both sitting next to him, and Sonar and Coupè are standing behind the couch watching. They all look…relieved. He must have been out for a long time. He still didn’t really understand what happened. He was getting knocked out by the blond weirdo one second, and the next he’s waking up in what looks like Mal, Sonar and Flambae’s apartment.
Mal slowly pushed some of Robert’s bangs out of his face. “There he is. How are you feeling?”
“...Like shit.” Robert rasps out, grimacing at the sound of his own voice. He sounds like he’s been punched in the throat again.
“No offense, but you look it too.” Sonar stared down at Robert, eyes unblinking.
“Thanks. You really know…how to make a guy feel good.” Robert can practically feel the tension in the room melt away at that. He's awake enough to talk back.
Mal lays him back down, covering him back up with the blanket. “You try to get some rest, alright? Most of the others who went through this shit said they got pretty nasty migraines from it.”
“Beef. Where’s Beef?” Robert managed to croak out. He was more concerned about the welfare of the little dog than his own. A migraine? He could handle that. He took care of those often. Not knowing if his dog was okay? Robert would tear down the world in order to find his pooch
Coupè chuckled. “Chase has him. Wouldn’t let anyone else within spitting distance last we saw them.”
“Of course he’d be more concerned about Beef than himself. Classic bastard.” Sonar huffed out a laugh.
“Kinda charming, At least he’s consistent.” Punch Up shrugged.
“Think we should get him some Tylenol or something? I don’t think he’s got much to worry about since he’s clearly autistic.” A claw pushes at Robert’s cheek.
“Sonar, if you don’t fuck off, I will personally pay for every garbage truck in the city to dump all their shit out at the same goddamn time and send you to pick up every nasty piece.” Robert threatened, throwing his left arm over his eyes. Despite the fact that he just woke up, he wanted to go back to sleep for another…five weeks sounded good.
“Prism was right: You should go into negotiations. Speaking of negotiations, can I finally take his injuries?” Mal chuckled.
“Your choice now. I imagine if you do end up taking any of that shite, at least you’re home.”
“Just…leave it. I can deal with a few cuts.” Robert wondered what Punch Up had said in order to dissuade the demon from taking his injuries.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. At least let me take the one on your nose. It cut pretty deep, might scar up.”
“It’ll just make me hotter. Besides, taking care of me will give you an alibi in case those idiots get caught doing something I have a feeling they’re not supposed to be doing.”
There’s another laugh to the side. “I’m so telling Flambae. He’ll love that.”