Chapter Text
If someone were to ask Robert where’s the worst place he’s been, up till now he would have either said Paris or the public bathroom at Chili’s, but now he is heavily considering changing his answer to this stupid underground meta exclusive villain club.
Maybe he should have known better. That just because Robert was half human doesn’t mean he’d get along with other humans just because they also had violent tendencies, but hey, he was optimistic.
Unfortunately these wastes of space had bad taste through and through. The drinks were lacking, which he expected from a regular bar since what legal bar could serve a martini with eyeballs instead of olives, but at a villain bar he had higher hopes. The decor was criminally tacky and edgy, but the worst thing of all is everyone thinks they're the most important person in the room. If there is any regret Robert had about leaving so quickly, it’d be not making a PSA that, “Killing people doesn’t make you special,” before walking out. For fucks sake even normies do it.
Robert left in under ten minutes, which normally wouldn’t have been a big deal. He was a hero after all he shouldn’t be wasting his time getting drunk like that, but as much as he tried to tell that to himself he couldn’t get over it. Tonight was supposed to have been special. He hunted down someone who knew how to get in for weeks, gave up being a workaholic for one whole night, and got all dressed up all for nothing. Not a single person worth fucking or befriending. What a waste of time. The night itself was nice at least. It was raining heavily which was one of the few types of weather he actually found therapeutic. Despite being raised by humans his heart always craved more. Heavy rain sounded something akin to fire crackling all around him, making him yearn for a home he knew in his blood.
Rain like this was good at getting him to loosen up. It drowned out the noise of the city and the people he was forced to run around all day saving. Moments like these almost let him forget why he was here. He could close his eyes and pretend he was the demon he was always meant to be, thriving in Hell with no moral compass tying him down. No human form that wrapped around his skin and compressed his true self like a vacuum seal bag.
But that wasn’t his life. When he opened his eyes he was still here on earth. Still confined to a purpose his father signed with a devil to be the most efficient and powerful Mecha Man that anyone had ever seen. Not a true demon since his human half was still there, but most definitely stronger than any normie.
He remembers praying in rain just like this once when he was 10. Forehead in the mud, nails clawing at the earth like he could open up a gate to Hell if he just tried hard enough. He found his father’s old notes on how he summoned the devil that he made the deal with to have him. First and last time he ever met his mom. He begged her to take him home or to make him a normal kid. Her voice echoed through his skull instead of opening her mouth to speak. She assured him great things beyond his imagination would await him here on earth, but Robert was pretty confident that devils were more proficient in lying than prophesizing.
Besides, it still felt like a punishment to be only slightly more powerful than the average meta, knowing that he could be so much more if only he could enter hell just once, but there was no point in wishing for something he could never have. He did wish though at the very least he could’ve kept looking like himself. Over the years power dripped out of his body like water in a cracked pot. When he was a baby his skin was blue in the kind of way regular humans only looked with hypothermia, but Robert was far from cold. His internal temperature ran at a heat that should kill humans and when his teeth grew in they were razor sharp, matching his equally sharp horns. His tail was over half the size of his body, operating as practically an extra appendage before-
…
As the years went by a mixture of the deprivation of a demon’s natural environment and him not being a full blooded demon made his teeth mellow out to round stumps. Robert’s horns, now, only a faint memory accompanied by a mark from where they used to be. Even his skin looked practically human, if you didn’t look close enough to see how his undereye bags weren’t that regular reddish purple humans had but the last remnants of that deadly blue color. Now at 25 his body was at a homeostasis; like an animal that evolved to hide in a new environment he looked nearly perfectly human.
Some days he didn’t mind it. Those were the days when being a superhero felt rewarding. When saving people meant stopping little kids from being crushed by rubble from an earthquake or stopping a shooting at the corner store run by some helpless old married couple. Other days it made his skin itch down to the bone. Like when the people he saved were idiots who got themselves into trouble by specifically not doing what he said. On days like those he wished he could tear through them all with bloody violence, but something some… stupid thing… stopped him. Every time. So there he was. A perfect little hero. Just what daddy asked for.
All this thinking had Robert tired. He dragged his feet through the puddles as the umbrella bobs thanklessly up and down on his shoulder. He had intended to head back to his place, or if was lucky enough maybe someone else’s, in one of those bastard’s cars since for some reason every villain in that club seemed to have a shit load of money which felt unfair. He thought the expression was ‘crime doesn’t pay’ so why the hell do they have condos and mansions when Robert lives in a shitty ass rental? It was fucked up.
Home was in sight now. The crappy little den with water stains and visible plumbing never felt more inviting than it did right now in Robert’s mentally exhausted state. As he walked under the overpass he heard a train zip past above him. It was loud enough to drown out a scream. Perhaps he should have thought about that fact when he walked by but Robert had always been so confident in his own abilities that he never thought danger could reach him.
Just as he was about to step back out into the night that shined from the pale moonlight casting like a suncatcher through every raindrop, an arm wrapped around his waist while a hand clamped over his mouth. Before Robert had a chance to react he felt it. A searing white hot pain on his shoulder that felt like two small daggers tearing through the muscles that laced together underneath his skin. His umbrella dropped silently to the ground as he grabbed at the assailant. Robert bit the hand covering his mouth hard enough to sever fingers as he slammed his fist into the face that was pressed into his shoulder. The assailant didn’t budge for more than a second before hurling them both forward to the ground to crack Robert’s skull open on the pavement.
A hit like that on a normie would kill, but for him it just left him dazed. If that little love tap was all the damage he took then he would have gotten up no problem– well maybe slight problem but nonetheless he would have been able to fight, but like a goddamn vampire the asshole who had the nerve to attack him fucking drained him of so much blood he just couldn’t get his legs under him. God he hated meta villains. Always a goddamn pain in his ass.
He felt a distant pain in his arm as they bit him again. The will to get up leaving his body with every drop of blood. If only Robert had been paying attention. If only it hadn’t been so loud. If only he wasn’t at a fucking villain club.
There wasn’t enough blood left in his body to work his muscles anymore. Only then when he looked lifeless did the teeth in his wrist recede. Robert dropped to the ground limply. Despite looking dead, he wasn’t actually since killing him was near impossible. He didn’t know what it took but he had been through a hell of a lot to know this wasn’t enough, but clearly his attacker didn’t get the memo that he was alive as she flipped his body over with a kick. Robert stared up at her through glassy eyes that gave that 100 yard stare, a young looking woman who seemed to be in her late twenties early thirties stared back. She was soaking wet and looked practically manic with his blood smeared across her mouth. Everything was a little too fuzzy around the edges but Robert could make out her mumble, “God… what kind of powers did you have? I have never tasted anything like you… fuck”
She picked Robert up quite unceremoniously, slinging him over her shoulder before walking back out into the pouring rain. Robert felt the rain pitter patter onto the back of his skull for a moment until the world zoomed past him in a rush as she leapt high into the night sky. Her feet reconnected with the ground at the top of the train tracks Robert was just standing beneath, and with the grace of a postal delivery service worker, dumped him down onto the rail. And just like that she was gone.
Robert tried to move but he was barely still awake. How pathetic- how embarrassing. A light began to shine faintly in the distance and Robert mentally cursed himself, already knowing what was coming. The tracks rumbled beneath him, each rock clacking together like an audience applauding before the grand finale.
He can’t escape.
The lights were getting brighter with each passing second. The night masking any presence enough that when the conductor finally spots what’s blocking his path he doesn't have enough time to stop.
He can’t stop it.
The train horn wails, the person inside finally spotting the body laying across the tracks. A petrified scream– a plea, echoes in the distance, but all sound is drowned out in the pouring rain.
But when he wakes up that bitch is gonna get what’s coming to her.
The rumble on the tracks crescendos in a roar as wheels split through bone and muscle. Robert’s spine severs leaving his top half to plummet to earth. Then it all goes black.
He wakes up in a morgue, a throbbing headache to welcome him back to reality. He listened carefully for a moment before deciding to push off the sheet draped over his face. Thankfully he wasn’t trapped inside the little vaults they keep the rest of the dead in. Taking a look around he saw the dim fluorescent lights casting a sickly yellow tint onto the already dreary room. Medical equipment was scattered sporadically on trays and shelves. The only company Robert had was an old woman laying on the table across from his; a tag hung off her left big toe.
He tossed the sheet off and inspected the state he was in. It wasn’t too bad all things considered. They tracked down his lower half so at least he wouldn’t need to crawl out on his hands to look for them, which would have been especially unfortunate since they don’t clothe the dead. Robert first moved the left leg, swinging it over the table till it was in a sitting position before he dropped down to the floor. The floor was cold but a welcomed sensation after feeling so achingly numb when he was last awake. Though he nearly let his legs fall over, not accustomed to the lack of weight that his torso provided.
The next part was the hard part. Robert carefully pulled himself upright and aligned his torso with his lower half which was standing at the edge of the table. In the process the blank white table became smeared with blood and made Robert shudder from the uncomfortable feeling of having his bare organs and spine slip across the cold metal.
Robert grabbed onto his legs and with a wet plop reconnected with his lower half. It was a balancing act now to not fall over despite how viciously Robert held onto his thighs. He grabbed the formerly useless sheet that was covering his body and tied it around where he had been bisected. Thankfully it also partly helped the nudity situation but Robert still felt uncomfortably bare.
He took careful steps across the cold tile and up to the wooden door. Robert wrapped his hand around the doorknob and pulled it open with a slow creak. Taking a gentle step out, the wooden floor boards groaning beneath each step. He didn’t have to sneak, not really, but the price to pay for someone witnessing him being alive would be too much. Mecha Man Blue is the one who people theorize is secretly powered. Robert Robertson III? That’s the normie loser guy with a bad name. Robert can’t get snapped in half like a twig and survive.
When Robert peaked through the doorway the place was empty, not completely to his chagrin since he could see the bathroom light on, but it was empty enough to make his escape before the poor funeral director returned. It would be a challenge to get out undetected and make it all the way home from god knows where he was, but that was fine. Robert could take a challenge.
The next day he made his plans on how to track down the bitch who tried to kill him; all the while the tv silently played in the background. “DEAD MAN WALKING: Funeral director finds man cut in half missing”
Revenge wasn’t superhero friendly. That’s not what good heroes do. Something in him itched and scratched at that thought, only placating it with the thought that stopping an attempted murderer was. He was still in line. Today at least. 8 days before he found her.