#mecha-blue

“Well, it’s your lucky day, then. I’m a two-in-one package.” A nod from her to the bartender signals for another round of drinks, then she slides into the stool beside him, her back to the bar, one arm resting on the top.

Not that she needed his invitation. She never did.

All eyes are on them. Wary. Expectant. Even the chatter quiets as the attention shifts to the two of them. Everyone here knows who Mecha Man is. Everyone here knows who Invisibitch is. Together, they’re Shroud’s doom.

Courtney snickers, shaking her head in amusement. “Didn’t give you a break when you were my boss. Not gonna give you one now, Robbie.” She leans a little to the side, if only to get a closer look at his face. It’s been a while since they sat this close to one another. “But I know you like it; the chase. Keeps you … busy.”

She’s been wondering when it’ll stop. This pang in her heart, every time she sees him. Whether he’s in the suit or outside it. Mecha Man or Robbie. Maybe today’s the last time it happens is her usual bet. She normally treats herself to a couple drinks every time she loses that bet and … well, tonight’s no different. But at least she gets to share the loss with him, right?

A curious arch of her brows as she studies his face. Even with that mask on, he looks more tired than usual, more miserable, more depressed, and consequently hotter. Especially if she’s the one responsible for this makeover. Means he’s thinking about her as much as she’s thinking about him. Means she’s not the only one losing bets every night.

The drinks are served. Courtney takes her glass in her hand, a small sip. That seems to ease the nerves on everyone else, and the chatter around them slowly resumes.

Was one thing to see the suit on the news, was another to see it in person. Perched on a streetlight, feeling like some kind of eagle or hawk while observing the street. Was in between calls, but given it was so close to lunch time, decided to linger outside rather than go right to base.

This extended outing afforded Blazer a chance to slow mid flight, then wheel around as she spotted a familiar armored being below. Anyone who lived along the Pacific Coast knew Mech Man's machine by sight alone. Other states could boast cryptids, they had a generational band of super heroes.

Observed from a safe distance as he handled the situation, a large scale robbery: people everywhere either running away screaming, others shouting and flashing firearms, still others unsure if they should duck, hide or be their own kind of heroes. Blazer barely resisted the urge to pitch in, floating above the situation, watching it unfold.

If her bosses were interested in this guy, might as well see what all he was capable of. Wasn't given enough time to compile details, since he had the threats neutralized within minutes. Helped that the armor was impervious to bullets. Couldn't help but notice the few laser based weaponry though, the mecha had been more cautious around, a flicker activation of some kind of shield as criminals gave up guns for high-tech firepower.

Wondered if that was a weak point. Then again, the world as a whole was adjusting to the introduction of firearms which took a wild departure from gunpowder and bullets.

He can adapt. Not something remarkable, any Hero ought to be able to regroup. Yet, in the brief time she started at SDN, Blazer had seen her fair share of freezes, of gears grinding to a halt in the fact of a new element or danger thrown their way.

Looking good so far, Mecha Man.

As the police came to collect all of the perps and a portion of the credit, Blazer knew she didn't have much time. If this was like any other news report about his exploits, machine and the man piloting it would be gone within minutes.

Unlike a lot of heroes, Mecha Man was notoriously aloof, at least towards reporters. Had to be direct, yet not too pushy in her approach.

As such, Blazer flew right in front of his line of sight before those flight boosters could be turned on.

A smile from the blonde, "Mecha Man, right?" extended her right glove hand, even if the robot itself wouldn't be able to accept nor return the gesture, wanted to be friendly all the same.

"I'm certain I do not have the slightest idea what you mean."

She has a voice that feels impossible to get away from. Even at normal conversational volume, it carries, a thrumming contralto that can't help but overwrite half the voices in the office when it pipes up. Whether that's a passive exertion of Empress' power to command others or simply an unfortunate quirk of being six five, barrel-chested and loud is up to interpretation. Few are those she has to look up to in this place - and she isn't exactly in close contact with Royd.

She's got the suit for office work, though. Rach watches Sonar wander off with narrowed eyes, only glancing over to Robert once the hybrid's fully out of view. Then, she lowers her voice (something that feels like it shouldn't be possible). "...I am the reincarnation of an ancient Mongolian warlord, Mr. Robertson. Truthfully, you should count yourself fortunate my command of your language is so absolute, and that you do not require a translator to be apprised of my thoughts."

Perhaps erroneously, Rach assumes this talk means the desire for a more thorough conversation. She pulls out one of the other chairs at the break room table and takes a seat. "...I despise those "snack" bars. They all boast names such as..."

A hand rises, gesturing this way and that as the (former?) warlord works to come up with something suitably ridiculous.

"Double Chocolate Indulgence Caramel Cookie Dough Delight Crunch." Her lip twitches, brow furrowing further. "And then, you bite into it, and it tastes of clay, and sawdust. Yet another example of products that are marketed as being good for the consumer, and therefore not needing to also be pleasant to experience. It confounds me."

Many things confound her.

Kate side eyes Robert, her features incredulous. "Yeah," she says slowly, "that's me, limp dick mother fucker."

▌  @mecha-blue  continued   [  x  ]

       She  liked  shrimp.      Truly,  really.  That  was  before  at  least  three  calls  at  the  same  time  came  in,  verifying  what  later  came  up  on  the  news.  Babette  pushed  the  headset  down  from  her  head     ;    a  worried,  if  not  even  frustrated  sigh  followed.  Nobody  could  have  prepared  her  for  the  forced  information  that  apparently  half  Torrance  was  kind  of  obsessed  with  seafood.

     ❝  What  if  it  was  a  necromancer  kind  of  guy    ?    And  he  purposefully  reanimated  every  single  shrimp  in  town  to  gather  for  their  evil  plot    ?     How  can  you  be  so  calm   ?  ❞      Squeaked  the  woman  a  few  cubicles  away.      ❝  Can't  we,  like,  get  a  hero  to  fish  some  from  the  ocean    ?    Deliver  it  quickly     ?    I  have  two  calls  on  hold  and  .  .  .  ❞     A  pointed  look  towards  the  screen,      ❝  .  .  .  I  have  a  feeling  I  know  what  it's  about.  ❞

Maybe  she  hated  shrimp  now  .  .  .

Dispatch.

“If you want me to help you up, Robbie, all you gotta do is ask. Nicely.” Courtney folds her arms against her chest as she stands in front of him, feigning nonchalance. Her head tilts to the side, sharp brown eyes digging into his. “Throw in a little please in there and I might even consider it.” She raises her brows in a dare—which is her non-straightforward way of telling him to get his ass back up and walk it off.

But then concern slaps her out of nowhere. Shit. What if he’s actually hurt and she’s over here poking fun at him? What if he broke something? Her brows pinch and posture sags, arms unfolding and dropping to her sides in a beat.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" PROMPTS

“Bullshit. If it weren’t about trust, then what’s it about? I told you I didn’t need your help. I’m not some fucking damsel in distress, Robert. We both know that. So why don’t you cut the shit and just say it: you thought I was lying to you. This isn’t even the first time this happened. You just wanted to come and see with your own eyes what I was up to because you couldn’t take my word for it.”

She’ll take half the blame on this one. She has been dodging him. Leaving him out of their usual shared activities—but when you live and work together with someone, and when you’ve been doing that for years, it becomes hard to snatch those alone moments you used to drown in. And lately Courtney needed a lot of those, to process what’s going on, figure things out on her own before she dragged Robert into it. Before she dumbed this giant bucket of new responsibilities on him.

Of course Robert was gonna notice something was off. Of course he was gonna need answers. Of course he wasn’t gonna buy her act forever. But the more he pushed and prodded, the more frustrated Courtney got, the more hesitant she was to tell him anything. Because every time he questioned her for more details than what she provided, another scratch was added to that layer of trust. The doubt that started off surface level was now reaching deeper. How can they possibly be ready for this next fucking leap if they haven’t even figured out the step they’re on right now?

Courtney can’t even begin to imagine what kind of scenarios are running through his head right now, but she can take a gander.