Chapter Text
Robert Robertson was well and truly fucked.
...
Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration.
Robert Robertson was…well and "truly in a bind". Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he dragged himself through the seemingly endless hallways of his high school on the way to the main office, dirty sneakers squeaking on the tiles. Moments before, the overhead loudspeaker crackled awake and two dozen heads perked up with mild intrigue.
A distorted voice resonated loudly around the cinder block walls: “Robert Robertson, please make your way to the main office, Robert Robertso-” but Robert was up and out of the classroom before the repetition of the announcement finished. A chorus of noise followed his exit, the usual chatter of lighthearted “ooooo”s and “he’s in trouble” followed by shushing from his teacher, attempting to refocus the seniors on their work. Robert sighed, he would have done the same had another student been in his situation, he could hardly judge.
What could it be this time? Fighting, skipping class, or did one of the teachers finally catch me smoking by the bleachers, Robert grumbled to himself, rounding a final corner before the door to the main office came into view.
He pushed the wooden door open and was greeted by a large desk with a short clear partition on top, behind which the secretary sat, typing away on an out-of-date desktop computer. They made brief eye contact in a silent acknowledgement, before she went back to her work, and Robert dropped back into one of the chairs pressed against the wall next to the door. A clock ticked loudly above them both, counting down the seconds before the halls would be flooded with students moving to the next class period. Right now, the hallways were unnaturally silent, only interrupted by the muffled voices of lecturing.
A door to his left opened, and Robert turned towards it as a short, blading man in a suit stepped into the room. His principle, identifiable not only by his height (a man you could lose in a crowd of middle schoolers), but also by the small brass name tag pinned to the front of his jacket reading: Mr. Kim, Principle. “Robert?” Mr. Kim confirmed, his voice low but placid. Robert nodded, standing up and following the man through the door and into his office.
Mr. Kim held the door open for Robert as he passed into the small office, filled mostly by an old wooden desk and three chairs, two closer to the door and one rolling office chair behind which Mr. Kim took his place after shutting the door. Robert chose the chair closer to the door, if only out of habit, doing his best not to meet Mr. Kim’s eyes, who was giving him a soft once-over before unfolding a manila folder that was laying on the table between them.
“Robert, it's good to see you again. I hope you are doing well. I regret that I had to pull you away from your class, but this matter is rather urgent.” Mr. Kim said, pulling out some papers from the folder and presenting them to Robert. “As I am sure you know, the district requires students to attend a certain amount of school days in order to graduate on time. Unfortunately, with the amount of absences you currently have on your record, you would normally be unable to graduate at the end of this year.”
Shit, Robert sighed before looking over the papers “Mr. Kim, I can explain…”
Mr. Kim held up a hand. “Mr. Robertson, I am loosely aware of your situation. Your father passed away in the line of duty this past year, correct?” At the mention of his father, Robert suppressed a flinch. It always comes back to this, doesn’t it?
Robert had been doing his best in the 14 months since his father’s death, or at least that’s what he told everyone else. In actuality, he was barely getting through each day, surviving on minimal sleep, illicit substances, and microwave meals. Not that his home life had changed much, he was just alone all the time instead of most of the time. Really, it was the responsibility of taking over for his father as Mecha Man that was causing him the most stress. But who could he talk to about that? Not only did next to no one understand the struggles of being a superhero, but he was also forced to keep his identity a secret, lest he risk his safety and privacy. So instead, he drowned his emotions behind a bottle of whatever alcohol he could buy from a lax convenience store (or shoplift) and cheap, sugary foods.
Robert blinked, looking back down at the paper showing his lacking attendance record 20 days in only roughly two months, Jesus… “Yeah. He, uh, died in an accident. I have to work more now to cover…things” Robert coughed, what a weak excuse, but what does it matter?
Mr. Kim sighed, his fingers pulling down the sides of his face in mild frustration “Robert, while I know my option holds bias as an educator, your schooling should really come before all else at the moment. Graduating on time is important for your future, and this is prime time for college applications and preparing for post-graduation plans.” The principal flipped through the folder, pausing to skim each paper as he went.
“I, uh, I’m not sure what my plans are for after graduation. I already have this job so…” Robert trailed off again, turning towards the window to avoid Mr. Kim’s expression of sympathy, disappointment, or both.
Mr. Kim inhaled before closing the folder, “Mr. Robertson, because of your unique circumstances, I’d like to propose a solution that would allow you to graduate on time without requiring you to take summer courses or retake any classes.”
At this Robert turned back, surprised. He had been waiting for Mr. Kim to explain that Robert would either have to retake the year, or drop out and get his GED, neither of which he had the time (or desire) for. Mr Kim continued, “In order to graduate at the end of the year, you will have to agree to tutoring sessions, and keep your grades at Cs or above.” That sounds… do-able, Robert considered.
“No catches? Who would tutor me?” Robert asked, scanning the older man’s face for signs of deception, but only found his watery, tired eyes watching him in return.
“No catches, you would meet with a student tutor around three times a week. We have someone in mind with a flexible schedule to account for your working hours. Your tutoring sessions would take place on school grounds, but outside normal class hours. The tutor should help you make up for missing work and also help you stay on track with your current and future assignments.” Mr. Kim explained.
Robert let the hint of a smile leak through his emotional mask, “Yeah, I think that’d work. Thank you, Mr. Kim, I’m not really sure what to say.” There isn’t anything to say, he is being more than generous, you could have been expelled for this. His internal monologue was sounding more and more like his father everyday.
Mr. Kim returned his smile with a nod. “Of course Robert. Contrary to popular belief, us teachers really do want our students to succeed. I can do everything in my power to make sure that you do, but you will also have to put in the work. How about we check back in two weeks, to see how everything is going?”
“That works,” Robert replied, standing up, “Could you ask the tutor if we can meet tomorrow afternoon in the library?” What is this, telephone? I’m surprised he didn’t just tell me who my tutor is now. Kinda odd.
“I will pass the information along, I’m sure he’ll have no problem accommodating that.” Mr. Kim smiled, also standing up to get the door for Robert.
“Thank you again, Mr. Kim. I’ll see you in two weeks.” Robert stepped out of the principal's office back into the small reception room.
“See you then, Robert, keep up the good work,” Mr. Kim said, closing the door behind Robert as he moved to the door leading back into the hallway. The secretary gave him a brief wave, which he returned, before exiting.
Well that went much better than I was expecting, Robert mused, turning back towards his classroom. Maybe things can start turning around a bit. Overhead, the loudspeaker buzzed as the bell announcing the end of period 5. Robert picked up his pace, reaching his classroom just as the rest of his English class passed by him and out into the hallways. He reached his desk, grabbing his backpack and the unfinished worksheet on his desk as he turned to leave.
“Robert, please complete that worksheet and hand it in next class,” The calm voice of his English teacher–Ms. Davis–called out as he headed for the door.
“Will do, see you tomorrow,” Robert affirmed, turning back into the hallway to make his way towards his final class for the day. Hordes of students flow through the hallways, some stopping to chat at lockers, others dipping into classrooms or bathrooms. In between classes, it seemed as if the school had returned to life, like a garden after a long winter, regardless of how short-lived this rebirth would be.
Robert signed, pushing past other students, his head tipped downwards. It was best when he went along, unnoticed, he preferred it. Blending into the crowd came with safety, security, and anonymity. Standing out brought only ridicule from others, something he preferred to avoid if possible (although it was often impossible when he was Mecha Man, and something he sought out when picking a fight).
He was lucky enough to not have powers, and was able to lay low despite his secret identity. It wasn’t rare to see heroes (or villains) around, considering they made up approximately 1% of the world’s population (not including extraterrestrial and non-human supers), but the world was far from accommodating to their powers. Especially if their powers fell anywhere outside of exceedingly useful or easy to ignore. It’s no wonder so many fell into violence and villainy, it’s bound to happen when you’re ostracized from society. Robert could almost understand why someone would do so, but he was far from accepting of it. The less villains there were, the fewer incidents he would be called to clean up as Mecha Man. He enjoyed being a hero, sure, but it left little time or energy for anything else. That along with the emotional burden of living in the shadow of two former Robert Robertsons, well, anyone in his position would have conflicting feelings.
Robert approached his final class, math, finding his seat at the back of the classroom, pulling out his notebook and drifting off into disassociation, mentally replaying his conversation with Mr. Kim, and preparing for his evening of little sleep and much chaos. Locker, walk home, eat, shower, fight, sleep, school, repeat. The repetition was painfully bland. Robert barely talked to anyone, unless it was a teacher, a villain or a grocery store delivery person (cause fuck going out and buying his own groceries, he wasn’t ready for that kind of interaction yet). Any friends that he had before his father’s death had been pushed away long before, by no fault of their own. Even his father’s friends, like Chase, who he was close to before, slowly drifted out of his life. I guess it really is that hard to deal with an angsty teen. Robert sometimes missed socialization, he was human after all. The most human contact he got nowadays was showing up drunk to a party, getting shitfaced and crossfaded in a back room while couples kissed next door and music bled over his overthinking, then going home and struggling through a two-day hangover. Or fighting someone. It…was less than ideal.
His final class of the day passed by uneventfully, and by the time the final bell rang, Robert was more than ready to leave. He slipped out into the hallway, dodging other students excited to leave for the day, and pressed tight to his locker as he twisted in his passcode. It opened with a harsh *clank* and Robert shoved some of his homework and textbooks into it. Grabbing the bare essentials (mostly a few assignments he figured he could knock out before going out tonight) and throwing them into his backpack, he knocked his locker closed with his shoulder and walked towards the front doors of the school. People pushed past Robert as they rushed to make their buses or meet their ride in the carpool line, a flurry of excited chatter and laughter pressing into him, only furthering his dull headache.
The crisp autumn air burned his cheeks as he stepped out onto the sidewalk bordering a large, bustling parking lot. He pulled his large jacket tighter around himself, ignoring the ache in his rips as he did so. Even with the Mecha Man suit, he still had a fair share of bruises, scrapes, and scars from repairs or fighting one on one with weaker criminals (or other students). His most notable scar, a cut out of the top of his right ear, was often hidden by his shaggy brown hair–thankfully. He hated explaining it away as a “boating accident” or a “lawnmower gone wrong” or some other far-fetched excuse that should have been second-guessed by others if they weren’t so damn dismissive of him. It's not like I can just come out and say, ‘oh yeah this massive clanking robot-suit my granddad made malfunctioned and I almost died’, although it’d make for a great pick-up line…scratch that, it would not.
Robert passed all of the other students as he began his walk home. He was lucky that his apartment was only a handful of blocks from his school, it allowed him to avoid carpooling or being stuck in the back of a smelly bus. The apartment he had shared with his dad was small, but comfortable. Two bedrooms, a bathroom and a small kitchen that was connected to an open-concept living room. He was thankful some of his dad’s life insurance policy had gone towards buying the unit and paying for a financial advisor to manage his accounts. He got a small allowance each week, enough for groceries and the occasional splurge, plenty in Robert’s option. The rest of the money remained in stocks and a checking account that Robert would get access to when he went to college or turned 21. So probably when he turned 21.
It was just a safety precaution, nobody wanted some inexperienced teen throwing money at the wall then going broke in a few years. It had been a bit of a surprise that he had been allowed to continue living alone at 16, and not sent to foster care or anything. He vaguely remembers having to go to court, where Chase testified that Robert was responsible enough to be allowed to live alone, and he had been granted some sort of emancipation. It was all a dull fog in the months following his father’s death, just barely passing through life like a specter. Robert still wasn’t fully with it, but things had improved slightly. The prospect of potentially being kicked out of school also did a lot to sober him up this morning, and he spent a good deal of his walk home pondering what the rest of the year would look like. It was still early November, but a little more than half a year of school left wasn’t much to work with if he was being honest. He had missing assignments in all of his classes, and knew that if he didn’t get his act together fast, the kind gesture from Mr. Kim would go to waste.
Robert pulled his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and fiddled with the lock to his apartment. Unlocking the front door, he walked inside, letting out a heavy sigh. He hung his heavy jacket on the coat stand next to the door. Then, Robert pulled his backpack off, unzipping it to grab his required reading English book and the accompanying worksheet before dropping the bag haphazardly next to the door. Robert kicked off his sneakers before stretching, listening as his shoulders and back popped, much to his dismay, before he crumpled back into his usual poor posture.
He padded through the kitchen and living room to the small dining table that sat in front of a large window overlooking a small courtyard, one of the few naturally lit areas of the apartment. He set down his paper and book before returning to the kitchen and opening the overhead cabinets. They were, unfortunately, poorly stocked, full of half-stale bags of chips, Twinkies (a guilty pleasure of his), granola bars, and prepackaged crackers. He grabbed some chips and a Twinkie before turning to his fridge and selecting a can of grape soda and a half-empty bottle of vodka. While Robert tended to avoid drinking before his herowork, one shot or two couldn’t hurt, especially since it tended to dull the ache in his back which tended to flare up more with the cold. Cold, yeah right, it's like 60 degrees.
Returning to the table, he plucked a pencil from a small tin can turned into a pen holder by an 8-year-old Robert (complete with sloppily painted flowers and smiles), and sat down to begin writing in whichever answers he could remember from his English class. It was just a summary review of the 6th chapter of the book, The Great Gatsby, which he had skimmed in between class periods. He flipped through the pages of the book, scanning for important references to turn into short answers while shoving chips into his mouth and alternating between sips of soda and vodka. It wasn’t like the book was boring, far from it. He had heard it was critically acclaimed, he just didn’t quite have the time to delve into it. This is much more time consuming than I expected, Robert mumbled, ‘well maybe if you just read the book…’ yeah well maybe if you would shut up– Robert face planted into the table, groaning loudly.
“Yeah actually fuck this shit,” He muttered as he stood up, shutting the book and walking to his room. He peeled off his sweatshirt (dropping it into a pile of half-clean clothing) then his shirt, pants and boxers (straight to the hamper, he had sweat through most of them) before grabbing a bath towel and walking to the adjoining bathroom. Robert flung the towel at the sink, sighing as it flopped silently onto the floor, and turned on the shower all the way to hot, yes, and waited for the water to heat up. Finally, he slipped into the shower, letting his muscles relax as the heat eased his tension. Just a few more hours, then I can maybe get a few moments of sleep, Robert daydreamed, unfortunately a lot of his daydreams involved sleep. He just has to keep this up a bit longer, then soon he can be Mecha Man full time and not have to balance school and a taxing inherited job (yippie).
Oh yeah, school. Shit. I have to meet with the tutor tomorrow, what do you even say? ‘Hey thanks for helping me not become a high school drop out, I have to fight crime and can’t make it to class because I’m concussed or hungover’ yeah that’d go over well. He just hoped his tutor was understanding. From what Robert remembered from his conversation with Mr. Kim, the tutor had a pretty flexible schedule, and if they’re volunteering to be a tutor, they’ve got to be at least sort of nice–oh wait, he’s got to be sorta nice, I remember Mr. Kim said ‘he’ at some point. Hmmm at least I wouldn’t get distracted if it was a hot girl. Wait, no, that’s weird. What the fuck Robert. Clearly he was not mentally stable, regardless of how much he wished he was. Robert Robertson couldn’t even relax in a shower to shave his life, how was he going to be level-headed enough to actually pass his classes?
“Mr. Taylor,
Very sorry for the late notice, but I spoke to the student we discussed the possibility of you tutoring today and he asked if you would be able to meet tomorrow for your first session. Please let me know if you have any conflicts, otherwise you should meet him in the library following your final class of the day. Thank you again for agreeing to this program, I am sure you will do a great job.
All the best,
Mr. Kim, Principle”
Herman smiled to himself, rereading the note his teacher had handed him at the end of the school day. For once he was mildly looking forward to going to school. He loved sharing knowledge and helping others (even though it hardly ever happened). He folded the note, carefully trying not to dampen the paper more than necessary. He then turned his attention back to the bright computer screen that illuminated the dark upstairs office. How exciting! New superheroes forming together to combat crime, maybe that will be someday, Herm mused, enraptured by the bravery and selflessness of his role models.
“Herman! It’s time for bed,” His mother’s shrill voice carried up from the living room where she was sitting, watching the television. Herman sighed, logging out of the family computer where he had been reading a new article about a new local superhero group and powering it down for the night. He grabbed a small towel he had stashed next to the computer to dab up any excess moisture that potentially landed on the keys from his clammy, wet hands.
“Okay mom, s-sorry,” He called back, just loud enough to be heard over the TV. She didn’t respond, so he walked quietly down the hall towards his bedroom. Herman pulled the door quietly, before crawling into his makeshift bed. It was a waterproof mattress on a bed frame that had been fitted with two-by-fours on each side to create a small basket-shape in the middle, which was reinforced with tarps and waterproofed rubber sheets. In the center of the bed, was a pile of waterproof blankets and pillows with special water-resistant fabric, all in an effort to curb the effects of his powers.
Herman laid back against the pillows, looking up at faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to his ceiling when he was a little kid. Life was much simpler then, I didn’t really understand how different I was. Sighing, he let himself go limp and drift away from wakefulness. Maybe tomorrow, I can make a friend, he thought, a soft smile on his lips.
Designs for this AU :)