#aycdici

Are you looking for a long-form Shroud-centric fanfic that starts 33 years before the game and explores his attempted rise at being a hero and then his fall to villainy before eventually showing his POV of the game and has no intention of excusing any of his actions?

Do you enjoy obsessive focus on characterization that highlights that no one, hero or not, is free of flaws and how that drives people to make terrible decisions?

Or watching the widening rift between two men who cannot let go of their hate and contempt for each other until it eventually tears the Brave Brigade apart?

What about the growing ache of watching a found family being built, knowing it all ends in tragedy?

Are you tolerant of canon stitching fix-its, world building based off headcanon watered down with meticulous research, and the occasional OC because the only thing we know about the Brave Brigade besides Robbie, Chase, and Shroud is that one of them is named Vitalia and heals?

What if we weren't sure who Robert's father really is?

Elliot seeks a quiet place to do some off-hours work, but of course he's interrupted.

Elliot’s bad mood melted over the hours of instruction. Robert was by no means the fastest learner, but he was dogged in his approach, tearing each piece of information apart until he fully understood it. There was something entertaining about watching his face dissolve from scrunched-up concentration into excited understanding.

“The fuck is this?”

Both Elliot and Robert twisted to see Robbie at the door to the lab. “You asked me to teach him the power system. I’m teaching him the power system,” Elliot said.

“I asked you to give him the book, not this video game shit,” Robbie growled.

“It is the book. Just more convenient. And portable."

“Great, so now all my suit’s secrets are free to anyone who grabs this thing outta his hands.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone take it!” Robert protested at the same time Elliot rolled his eyes and said, “Do you think there’s a single piece of tech in this entire building that isn’t encrypted to hell and back?”

“Please, Dad? Please, can I keep it? Mr. Eli made the program just for me, and I already learned a bunch from it! C’mon, ask me anything!” Robert pleaded, picking up the laptop and hugging it to his chest protectively.

It's finally happening. Elliot has held up his end of the bargain - he's completed and delivered the Astral Pulse. Now all he has to do is survive a trial by fire, and his dream to join the Brave Brigade will finally be a reality.

“That’s your problem. You let your implant do all your thinking, Eli. You’re no different than that damn GameStation Rob plays,” Robbie said.

“PlayStation,” Chase corrected before Elliot could respond. He paused the game of catch he was playing with himself when he noticed the other two staring at him and shrugged defensively. “What? I play. You two old fucks are out of touch. Nothin’ like beating somebody’s ass in Tekken 3 so bad they cry,” he said.

“Good to know I’m paying you to make my kid cry,” Robbie drawled.

“It’s compensation for the boredom I suffer. Robert can’t play for shit.”

“He’s seven, for chrissake.”

“Maybe you should take up gaming,” Elliot said, smirking at Robbie. “I think you’d be good at it. After all, jiggling a joystick around is pretty much all you do anyway, right?”

The bantering air suddenly crackled with tension as Robbie glared down at him. Elliot met his eyes calmly, his crooked smile never slipping. He hadn’t handed over the newest power source yet, and he was going to enjoy his tiny slice of leverage while he had it.

“That’s the difference between you and me, Elliot,” Robbie said, his tone thick with disdain, “I pilot my mech. Your implant pilots you.”

Elliot scoffed. “For someone whose career is built off the back of technology, you can be such a goddamned Luddite sometimes,” he said. “The implant doesn’t override my thought processes or predictive models - it enhances the speed at which I do it. My augments can enhance anyone’s powers - those that have them, anyway.”

He’d nailed the perfect tone and word choice the implant had directed him to. Robbie stiffened at the insult, but Chase’s attention had been caught by the mention of enhanced speed and he didn’t seem to have picked up on the subtext. Elliot folded his hands behind his back as Robbie hopped down out of the mech and moved to stand right in front of him, his heavy footsteps just shy of stomping.

“You talk a big game about how smart you are, Eli, but I don’t think you’re as smart as you think,” Robbie said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I haven’t been wrong yet.”

“I can think of a couple stupid choices you’ve made.”

Elliot had a couple inches on Robbie, and he emphasized them by tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked down and let his smile widen. “They’ve all worked out for me so far,” he said.

A vein in Robbie’s neck pulsed as he clenched his jaw.

P(MMPunch∪TSInterfere)=2/3\\!!Alert!!S.Driver→LH→P(1stStrike=83.6%)

Elliot took a second to carefully shift his weight to his right leg just in case his initial calculations were off.

Fortunately, the kid came through. “Take him on a field test,” Chase said.

Robbie’s head snapped to the side, hostility forgotten at the distraction, and Elliot realized he’d been holding his breath. He quietly let it out as Robbie turned to fully face Chase. “The fuck you mean, ‘field test’?” Robbie demanded.

"... You and your dad, you’ve been my heroes since I was a kid! Let me join the Brave Brigade! I can help you! My prototypes, they work!” Elliot said. He hated the wheedling tone in his voice, but sacrifices to his pride had to be made to make this work. He glanced around, trying to find some evidence to support his claim - then focused on the pistol in Robbie's hand. “I can prove it. You a betting man? I’ve got a wager for you - one where you win either way.”

Some of the anger faded from Robbie’s face, replaced by a begrudging interest.

Elliot pushed ahead. “We play Russian Roulette. With this implant -” he reached up and tapped the augment in his head, “- I can tell you with 100% accuracy how many times you can pull the trigger without killing me. We can do it as many times as you want. If I’m wrong and my invention doesn’t work, you get what you came here for - you shoot me in the face.”

Robbie narrowed his eyes, hearing the note of continuation. “And if you’re right…?”

“If I’m right… if I’m right, you let me join the Brave Brigade, get me the materials I need, and I build you your new power source.”

With his pitch made, all Elliot could do was try not to hyperventilate. Years of planning and preparation, all down to this.

He damn near collapsed when Robbie released him and pulled back. He was able to savor just a moment of relief before the harsh click of the revolver’s cylinder release and the brassy tinkle of bullets being dropped into Robbie’s palm pulled him back to the moment. Before he could do more than straighten up Robbie spun the cylinder, flicked it closed, and pushed the barrel against Elliot’s forehead.

Robbie didn’t say anything but Elliot spoke up immediately. “Four.”

Click! Click! Click! Click!

Chapter 16 The Mecha suit has been stolen. Elliot has a chat with the thief.

Vitalia picked up her ringing phone.

“Hello…? Robbie? What’s going - hang on, slow down - stop yelling, I can’t understand you.

“... Non ci credo, what do you mean, ‘the suit was taken?!’ How–

“... I see. When? And why?

“... Yes, that’s him laughing in the background. Well, Robbie, we live together, so we’re often within earshot of each other. Oh, stop it, you knew he was going to learn about it when you called me. Because I would have told him. Because you want me to. Do you want your suit back quickly, or do you want to save your pride and risk something happening? That’s what I thought–

“Bastard hung up.

“Elliot, stop laughing, this is serious. Go be useful, you awful man. Honestly, you both are such children sometimes.” ///

The occasional chuckle was still bubbling up as Elliot lay on his back on the hood of his truck, his booted feet dangling in front of the grill. He entertained himself by tossing a baseball up and down while he waited. Given what he knew of the suit thief, the adrenaline rush would’ve worn off by now and he’d be looking for somewhere he could land and think undisturbed. That meant lots of cover and being away from people. Places like that were very few in L.A., but this area in Debs Park was closest to the Brave Brigade HQ and from an aerial perspective would be the most enticing.

Elliot had doubled up with his hoodie and trench coat against the windy late December chill. His hood was pulled as far over his face as it could be and his license plates were artfully obscured with mud. It wasn’t likely anyone would come this far off the beaten path, but the cooler weather was popular for hiking and he didn’t like to take chances.

It only took a couple more minutes for the Astral Pulse’s signal to finally come into the implant’s range. Elliot easily bypassed the cyberwarfare suite (he’d designed the damn thing) to force a connection and sent a ping to the suit’s main monitor with the coordinates of the small clearing he was in. There was a beat where Elliot thought he might be surprised and the pilot would ignore him, but the signal altered course and headed his way.

The Mecha suit landed hard enough that the ground quaked and his truck shook. Elliot almost dropped the baseball but his implant adjusted his hand in time to catch it. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees as the Mecha suit’s hatch opened and the thief hopped out.

Even without being officially attached to the Brave Brigade, Elliot still has to do the work. Not every outing has to end in violence… for everyone.

Their first warning should have been when Fae Ray couldn’t stop laughing when she’d heard what pub they were heading to, some place called Tom Bergin’s. Their second warning should have been the absolute silence when they’d neared the pub, despite there having been screams of terror over the call. Their third warning should have been when a voice called for “the poxy English fuck” to enter alone.

Verdanger thought he could handle it. After all, he was immortal - what did he have to fear?

A lot, it turned out.

“I know yer chirpin’ tru dis poor lad’s ear piece!” the aggressor bellowed, his fresh-off-the-boat Irish accent almost too thick and slurred to decipher through the mostly-closed front door. “Tings ‘ave gotten a bit squirrely, but it ain’t got t’ ruin th’ day! Just tell tha fuckin’ bartender t’get back here an’ give me a fuckin’ shamrock we can all get back to peacably gettin’ shitfaced!”

There was the sound of scuffling over the earpiece, then Verdanger’s hoarse shout of pain and the metallic crash of him hitting the ground. “I told ye t’stay down! Ye’ll get up when I say y’can get up!” the perp shouted.

Elliot grit his teeth. God fucking damn it. His implant was clear: there was no avoiding someone going inside. And as much as he hated to admit it, Mecha Man staying in the suit gave them the better advantage. Giving Mecha Man a glare, he pulled his hoodie down to further shadow his face and stepped forward, holding up his hands. “I’m coming in,” he called as he walked. “We’ll get you this… shamrock… and this can all end without further violence.”

“And what if I want it t’end in further violence? I'm not afraid of havin’ a bit of a do durin’ a brannigan! I’ll fuckin’ fight all six of ya!”

“There’s only two of us out here.”

After mostly recovering from his near-death experience, Elliot is cleared to attend the Fourth of July barbecue being thrown by Robbie. Not only is he excited to socialize with the Brave Brigade, but it also offers a fantastic opportunity to convince them to finally hold the vote to let him become one of them.

Elliot's implant was fucked. He knew it. His implant was fucked and they were gonna put him in a coma again and this time they weren’t gonna let him back up. He’d just disappear back into the black not able to move or think or speak or scream and that’s how he’d die because his body was breaking down. He couldn’t fucking breathe.

In desperation he overrode the implant’s safety shutdown and forced it back on. It flared to life with a sizzle and a few pops of static and began automatically reaching out to connect with any possible input, gathering as much data as possible so he could predict and plan and work and know–!

“THREAT IDENTIFIED.”

The mechanized voice booming over the parking lot nearly stopped his heart. He jerked around to find the source, but there was no armor-plated assailant bearing down on him. He panted, brow lowering in confusion as he looked at the fence blocking his view of Robbie's backyard.

“DEFENSIVE PROTOCOL INITIATED.”

Familiarity hit like a bullet. He’d lost count how many times he’d heard it over the years when he’d tweaked something he shouldn’t have during testing. And with everyone else in the yard, there was only one target with it in the garage that the Mecha Man suit could’ve locked on to.

He tried to send a shut down but was rebuffed by the suit’s cyberwarfare suite. He tried to run, but his lungs refused to work and the lack of air had turned his legs to rubber. He tripped and collapsed to his knees. His entire body shook, his head swam, and he couldn’t even draw in enough air to shout a warning.

There was a crash from beyond the fence.

Fuck!

A young boy shouted.

Fuck!

“FIRING.”

FUCK!

Truth. Justice. The American Way. The cracks in the facade appear.

Elliot had miscalculated. He’d forgotten that laws don’t erase prejudices and ignorance. That one could follow the letter of the law and still make an unjust decision. Because this was bullshit - Mia had provided plenty of evidence that Oracle had ties to the community through Elliot and had been a model prisoner even when it hadn’t been considered one. If Oracle had been an organic being, there wouldn’t have been a problem getting bail. But this stupid fucking judge was too old to bother with keeping up with the times and now Elliot and Oracle were going to suffer for it.

Bailiffs were attempting to escort Oracle back to the holding cells, but it was moving at a glacial pace and it was far too heavy for them to move with force - supers with the strength necessary to carry something as dense as the automaton tended not to go for courthouse jobs.

All Oracle’s mobile optics had fled to its back to stare at Elliot as its desperate pings to reestablish connection bounced off the partition.

Mia was attempting to persuade Oracle to comply with the officers. “It’s alright, Oracle. Go with the bailiffs. This isn’t over - we can file a motion for reconsideration, or an appeal–”

“More. Appeals?” Even as poorly simulated as the voice was, Oracle’s rising anger was clear.

Elliot closed his eyes. He hoped this would be the one time those fucking breathing exercises would work, but of course they didn’t. He had to calm himself enough to think, to talk to Oracle before it decided to stop playing by the rules. If that happened, it would be decades until it got out of prison. While it was behaving and acting silly it was easy to forget that Oracle had crafted its body for violence, and if it decided it was sufficiently threatened it would react accordingly to devastating effect. It was starting to pull back from the connection, its optics scattering over its body as it took in its surroundings and formulated a plan of attack.

He was out of time. He set his implant to scout a solution–