apple

- A job

- Good relationship with father

- Neurotypical brain

- Ability to top

but, due to the fog of the amnesia, then the urgency of the mission plus Rocky's appearance, Grace doesn't fully look through every box until they're on their way to Erid. and that's when Rocky wakes up from sleep to see Grace sobbing over a bunch of letters. students telling him how much they enjoyed his class, actually made learning fun and interesting. got them through tough days. made them feel seen and appreciated. quite a few cite his class as being the spark that got them interested in science as a career. and even those that didn't still consider him the best teacher they ever had. fellow teachers admiring his classroom management and lesson planning, and even so his kindness to every student who walked into his room.

one letter is from the principal. when Dr. Grace's involvement in the Hail Mary Project became public knowledge, there was a push from the community to rename the school after him. after discussions with the school board, there had been a secret agreement to do so, even had a new sign made. they were just waiting for him to be released from the project and return to San Fransisco to surprise him. but, with the recent news of his "noble sacrifice", they'd gone ahead and done it. attached the press release with a picture of the new sign, a bunch of his former students standing around it, beaming. a local artist has been commissioned to add a mural to the front entrance over the summer break. and a final note: "Do your work knowing that it will allow the Dr. Ryland Grace Middle School to continue to educate and inspire students for generations."

Yes! A few people wrote fics based off of my vampire!simon AU:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/89193646

https://archiveofourown.org/works/88849946

https://archiveofourown.org/works/88824521

https://archiveofourown.org/works/88352336

https://archiveofourown.org/works/88553576

SDN has been investigating a string of chaotic incidents caused by regular people who have somehow developed powers. The new metas are easy enough to bring in, but it’s impossible to glean any information from them—they’re all too traumatized to speak coherently, and any mind-reading attempts are hindered by their fractured mental state

And obviously we have Robert shoving his way into the investigation, because he knew two of the affected—a neighbor who watched Beef for him several times and always sent him back with new toys, and the owner of his favorite Korean restaurant who always gives him extra cuts of meat, free of charge. They’re good people—average people who shouldn’t have gotten caught up in all this—and the sight of their perpetually wide eyes and unresponsiveness fills him with righteous anger. 

So he tries to get involved, but he’s shut down. This is a case for the higher ups, this is out of our jurisdiction, Mecha Man hasn’t been cleared for duty yet, etc. So Robert does what Robert does best and completely disregards all warnings, promptly hacking into the database storing all the case info and starting his own investigation. 

He dispatches during the day like normal, but by night he’s either pouring over case files or out on the streets doing recon. Over the next couple months, his health starts to slip—he’s not getting enough (or really any) sleep, and it’s showing. He’s responding more slowly and having trouble focusing and forgetting to eat and snapping at people, and the Z-Team—who by this point have definitely figured out that something is wrong—are flipping between snapping back at him and trying to coax him into telling them what’s wrong so they can help. 

Flambae especially—who Robert’s developed some kind of tentative friendship/flirtationship with—spends every spare moment at work hanging around his cubicle and most of the night blowing up his phone.

(pick up bitch I know you’re awake 

seriously this is fucking ridiculous, I KNOW you’re not sleeping 

“Did you just fucking send me to voicemail??? That’s it I’m coming over, get ready for an ass-kicking!” 

hey I’m stopping for food, anything you’re craving before I beat your ass

“I got Chinese and I better not hear you complain about it because I gave you fifteen minutes to respond, bitch.” 

hey did that big ugly chip in your ear make you fucking deaf? I’ve been knocking for like five minutes, let me in already. the food’s getting cold 

I got you extra wontons 

“If you’re going to make me stand out here all night, at least pick up your fucking phone, asshole.” 

robert

okay fine!! I don’t have to come in, just open the door and we’ll do a fucking handoff like a hostage situation or some shit

robert

I’m serious

can you just answer me 

just say something

okay I’m leaving the food in front of your door just come out and get it before the rats do

I mean it, I’m going now

just eat the food) 

Robert ignores the messages and the voicemails. He’s not home to open the door anyway. 

On some level, he feels guilty about ignoring all the attempts of the team to reach out, especially Flambae. How many times has he lectured them about working together? And now he’s being a complete fucking hypocrite. There are several moments when he considers letting them in, asking for help. 

He continues shouldering the burden alone. Some habits die hard. 

And then one night, while investigating a lead in plainclothes, Robert’s grabbed and injected with a sedative. He’s too weak to fight back, half dead on his feet from sleep deprivation and practically malnourished from all the meals he's been missing. It’s a depressingly short-lived struggle. 

He wakes up in your typical horror movie-esque torture room, with an almost laughably average looking man standing over him. 

The villain does his monologuing, of course. Robert’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes in the beginning. 

And then it all comes out, and suddenly nothing about this is laughable. 

There's a lot of flowery language involved, but what it boils down to is that this man knows Robert’s Mecha Man, and all of his previous victims—all of those dead-eyed, traumatized people struggling to control new powers—have just been practice for the real thing. 

The real target has always been Mecha Man. 

He’s been keeping tabs on him for years, he says—he knows Mecha Man won’t buckle under the trauma like everyone else. His will and his mind are strong enough to survive. 

He’s perfect, the villain says. He will mold Mecha Man into the ultimate superhero. But first, he has to be unmade.

The Suffering starts. 

Robert—already so weakened by his own stupid fucking obsession—struggles to hold on to his sanity. He can feel it slipping away, little by little, like a sandcastle during high tide. He’s haunted by the looming feeling that he’ll collapse into the waves, his mind scattering into the dark, briny depths of the sea like tiny grains of sand. 

Finally, when he feels like he can’t stand it anymore, like he’ll come apart at the seams, he creates a room inside his mind—filled with a jingling dog collar and the soft, warm light of twelve unique lamps—shuts himself inside, and locks the door.

Two weeks after their dispatcher’s sudden disappearance, the Z-Team, just barely being held together by a frenzied, overworked Mandy and a furious Chase, are called to assist in bringing in a crazed man rampaging through a mall—another one of those meta zombies, as Sonar’s been calling them. Except this one’s apparently bad enough to warrant the whole team coming in to apprehend him. 

If not for the chip in his ear, Robert would be completely unrecognizable. 

He’s more like an animal than a human—the wide, almost fever-bright stare, the snarling mouth, the darting eyes. There’s no talking to him, no reasoning. 

I didn’t bother deciding what power he developed, because it doesn’t matter. It’s a weak power—not even strong enough to overpower one member of the Z-Team. The only reason he’s so hard to capture is because all the hard-won instincts and skills he's developed over the years have been heightened by his mental state. That, and the fact that his team is hesitant to really fight him. They can practically smell the fear and pain coming off of him, and as much as they usually joke about kicking his ass, no one can bring themselves to hit him. 

Eventually, Flambae grits his teeth and steps into Robert’s path of destruction. Robert puts up a brutal fight, but Flambae finally manages to wrestle him to the ground. Robert’s teeth end up buried deep in his forearm in the process, and they stay there as Flambae carries him to the ambulance and holds him still for sedation, trying to ignore both the searing pain in his arm and the wild, frantic thrum of Robert’s heart where his back is pressed to Flambae’s chest. 

The villain watches the news coverage of the fight from his living room, his giddy anticipation fading as his hero is taken down by just one d-lister. 

He doesn’t understand. Mecha Man was the perfect subject, the perfect hero. This is what he’s been working towards all these years. All that time honing his power, all those people… If even Mecha Man couldn’t stand it, then…

Was all that suffering for nothing? 

The villain willingly turns himself in. SDN tries to offer him a deal—a shorter sentence for a reversal of his power’s effects, but that’s not how it works.

It can’t be undone. The mutations his powers have caused are permanent, and the mental effects were caused by the Suffering, not by any power. He's not sure if they even can be reversed. There’s nothing he can do. 

Blonde Blazer, sitting in on his questioning, has to turn her head to hide her heartbroken expression. Afterward, she gives herself two minutes to cry before putting herself back together and gathering up Chase and the Z-Team. 

They don’t take it well, to say the least. 

“We don’t know that it’s forever,” she tries to reassure him. “With enough time, he could still come out of it.” 

“So you’re telling us that Robert’s just gonna have to fuckin’ fight his way back to sanity by himself?” Chase demands. Beef, cuddled up against his chest, whines. 

“He won’t be by himself,” Flambae snaps. The bandage on his forearm is only a few hours old, but it’s already frayed where he’s been picking at it. “You think we’re just going to leave him alone?”

“Flambae’s right,” Mandy says, relieved. “No one’s leaving Robert to deal with this alone.”

“Of course I'm fucking right,” Flambae says, tossing his hair like he always does. The effect is somewhat dampened by the reddened, swollen skin around his amber eyes. 

“Grace, I need your signature.”

Grace looked up from his work in his closet of an office. Stratt closed the door behind her.

“An autograph? I’m flattered.”

She pushed the work off his already disheveled desk and set a single paper on top. It kind of looked like his degree, it kind of looked like-

“A marriage license? Well, now I’m really flattered.”

“For legal reasons. Just sign.” Stratt muttered.

“Are you serious?”

Of course she was serious. She only was serious. But she seemed…uncomfortable? The feeling looked strange on her. Eyes dart between the paper and him. Arms crossed over her chest as if hugging herself. It was definitely a new look. They were in new territory.

“I’m not the marrying type.” said Grace. “And I think I forgot to propose.”

Stratt breathed in deeply. Steeling herself.

“Grace,” Her hands were fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. “What I’m doing here is illegal. I’ve broken alot of rules to give the crew a chance to save us. But once the mission begins…the world order will need to go back to how it was.”

Grace listened intently trying to make eye contact with her glassy gaze. He hadn’t thought to much about the legality of it all. After all, that was her job.

“I will be put on trial. I will be found guilty. I will serve the rest of my life behind bars. That is my cost.” Stratt continued, “You, the team, will all be fine. But-”

She pushed the license closer to Grace.

“Spouses don’t testify in court.”

Finally she looked at him. She wasn’t telling him to sign. If that was the case she probably would’ve just forged his signature. Hell, she probably has a whole team just for that purpose. She was asking him.

His choice. Just between the two of them.

“We don’t have to sleep together, right?”

Her eyes went big. “God Grace! No! Just sign the damn paper!” she huffed.

He smiled. And put his name under hers.

Husband and wife.

Well, more like “Most powerful person in the world” and “Some guy she kept around.” But still. Till death do they part.

Thinking about Flambae who insists he doesn’t need one because he can do it himself.

Thinking about Flambae seeing Robert in action and subtly changing his mind. He can deny he likes the guy, — poorly, — but he can’t deny the wheels are smoother.

Thinking about Robert fondly rolling his eyes when he finds atrociously written notes left in his toolbox.

‘Lunch w/ me >:D asked beef already’

‘u burnt yourself?? fucking idiot. come see me’

‘shop at 12. stay over. i’m getting that trophy for you. ‘

Thinking about Flambae going on a winning streak and everytime he runs out of his car, he goes to raise Robert on his shoulder first.

Thinking about Flambae wearing a blue wrench and a puppy sticker on his helmet.

But he gets stubborn. He gets cocky. He gets impatient. He wants to win for everybody, but he wants it on HIS terms.

And they fight. Speed over quality, safety over glory.

“I don’t know what you wanna do to yourself,” Robert refuses to change that smoking tire. “But I want no part in it.”

Flambae punches in gear first.

And as Robert watches him burn down and tumble in the ugliest crash he’s ever witnessed, he decides he never wants to see it again.

So he quits.

And Flambae will be damned if he doesn’t wait in front of Robert’s favorite supermarket everyday and convince him to come back.

Robert? Not impressed.

That man and his guilty sunset eyes can follow him all they want. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

“Your fingers were fucking gone,” Robert hisses under his breath. “And the only thing you asked me was ‘what’s my time’.”

“…Bob-Bob, I’m gonna win better next time.”

And Robert says absolutely nothing. He just tells Flambae to fuck off.

everyone else joins in on the bit too

Simon Grace Gay as fuck, statement.