Chapter Text
“I think he’d be proud…” Mechaman responded, sitting next to the podium on the stage for the press conference in his hospital-supplied wheelchair.
“Proud my ass,” Robert muttered to himself, where he stood on the sidewalk outside the electronics store, propped up on his single crutch. His right arm held tight to his chest through the help of his immobilizing sling. “At best, he-”
Movement to his left broke him out of his self-targeted vent, followed by the shattering of glass.
“Hey, assholes,” He called, turning to face the crew of technicolor ski masks. “I was watching that.”
The fight between him and the orange masked robber with a crowbar lasted long enough for Robert to be pushed off the sidewalk and into an alleyway across the street. The final blow from the thief was to rip the crutch out of Robert’s hand then swing the crowbar into his stomach.
“Dumb fuck hobo ranger,” Orange mask laughed, spitting at Robert’s feet.
“Shit! It’s Blonde Blazer!” One of the other robbers called from the main road, slamming the door to the truck closed. The colorful crew split, the orange and purple running in the opposite direction of the speeding truck as the blonde heroine raced after the vehicle.
“Fucking skittle squad fuckers,” Robert coughed, wiping the blood off his chin. The man pushed himself up in the pile of trash bags, clumsily hopping to his slightly dented crutch. Guess it was time to finally go home.
-
Something’s wrong. It won’t turn. Why wasn’t the key to his apartment working? Yeah, the lock stuck sometimes, but this? Robert tried turning the knob with the key inside, trying to unstick his front door when it opened from the inside.
There stood a young woman with a baseball bat. “You either have the wrong door or you’re about to learn real quick not to break into someone’s home,” she growled, blocking the doorway.
“Wha-?” This was his apartment. Who the fuck was this woman?! A quick glance behind her showed Robert the large crack in his drywall. He saw the chip in his countertop from when he dragged Toxic into his apartment for interrogation. There was furniture in the apartment that was not his. What the fu-
“--- know how this bullshit goes, and I don’t care how crippled you look! Fuck off or I’m calling the cops!” The woman glared down at him, the baseball bat now raised and ready to swing.
“S-sorry! I- I don’t,” Robert stammered, hobbling backwards from the irate woman. “Wrong door!”
The woman watched him suspiciously as Robert crutched his way down the hallway. When he heard the door close and the deadbolt latch roughly, he turned around and sneaked back to the door he knew was his. He felt his stomach drop, because that was his apartment door. His apartment number on the small plastic placard under the hallway light.
No, no no nonono NO. Robert rushed down the hall and jabbed the rickety elevator button. His heart was racing and his thoughts were spiraling. He’d be evicted?! Where was his dog? What about his stuff? What happened to Beef?!
As soon as he could squeeze out of the elevator, Robert rushed to his property manager’s apartment. Amber had always been understanding of his circumstances and even turned a blind eye to him storing the Mechaman suit in underground parking since Robert didn’t have a car. He tried to knock on the door without too much panic bleeding into the action, but he’s not sure how well he did.
The door opened, and an older lady came out looking like she’d seen a ghost. “Robert? Holy shit, you’re alive?!”
A small whine drew both of their attention as white paws scratched at the door and tried to push himself out of the apartment. Amber opened her door fully, letting the black and white chihuahua out.
“Beef!” Robert called, carefully dropping to his remaining knee before falling on his ass. “I’m so sorry buddy.” He took Beef into his good arm and shakily brought the dog into a tight hug. Fuck his coma-induced muscle atrophy, he was hugging his beefy son.
“Robert, what the fuck happened?” Amber asked, clearly worried. “I saw the suit explode on the news, but then radio silence. Did your cellphone blow up with the rest of you? I went into your apartment to get Beef after I couldn’t get ahold of you.”
“Thank you,” Robert warbled, his face still pushed into his dog and fighting back tears. They stayed like that for a minute, basking in the reunion. The moment was broken when Beef put his full weight on Robert’s injured arm and leg at the same time.
“Shit, let’s get you up and inside,” Amber said, holding out her hand to help him up. “As good as it is to see you alive, I have some bad news to share with you.”
-
Robert sat on Amber’s sofa in shocked silence. Beef was sitting on his lap, tail wagging like crazy while his human pet him. Evicted. He’d been evicted while he was in that god damned four month coma and the extra two week stay that allowed him to start physical therapy and be fitted for a prosthetic he couldn’t afford. It seemed like his luck ended when his checkout nurse chose not to comment on the single crutch he kept, but hadn’t paid for. American healthcare at its finest.
Amber had tried to keep the apartment reserved for him, but after 3 months of no communication and no rent payments, the actual property owner had showed up, declared the apartment abandoned, and made Amber clear out what little was there. In the corner of Amber’s apartment was a partially melted plastic chair, an old backpack Amber used to hold all his stuff, and Beef’s bed underneath the plastic chair seat.
That was all Robert Roberston the Third, heir to the 50 year Mechaman legacy, had to his name. A busted chair, Amber’s hand-me-down backpack holding all his paltry, basic living supplies, a dented crutch, a dog bed, and his dog. How the mighty had fallen. His father wouldn’t be proud that he’d survived the explosion and ensuing crash landing. His father wouldn’t be proud that he had done his best for as long as he could. His father would be beyond disappointed, and like that one reporter had said, was likely rolling over in his grave in shame.
“I kept all your stuff,” Amber informed, handing Robert a cup of coffee. “Not like you have much, but I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back for it… and then I couldn’t bring myself to toss it. Happy my sentimentality had me keep it.”
“I appreciate it,” he mumbled, taking a shaky sip of the coffee. “It’s better than having nothing. And I can’t even begin to thank you for taking care of Beef while I was out of commission.”
Amber smiled softly at the two on her sofa. “Don’t worry about it. He was an upstanding citizen, just like his dad. I put him on a bit of a diet, and he even lost two and a half pounds while you were gone.”
“Is that the neglect you were telling me about?” Robert jokingly asked his furry son, giving him ear scritches. “She never fed you at all while I was gone?”
“Yes, because I’m a terrible person,” Amber agreed, giving Beef some extra back scratches.
Robert enjoyed the moment for a few more seconds before he allowed the cold reality of his future come back to the forefront of his thoughts. He had secured Beef - his boy was healthy and happy. Now to figure out where the fuck they could go from here. They were homeless, and Robert had no idea what had happened to the Mechaman suit.