#robin verse

Dad and Eve remind him of it often enough, even if they’ve got such different reasons for pointing it out that it’s kind of hilarious. Kind of makes him want to bash their heads in, though, and a couple years back that might’ve shocked him - feeling that, thinking it without flinching, but it’s all so fucking whatever lately.

The same shit every day, a new fire to put out because these idiots are all running around with matches and fucking drenching themselves in gasoline, and then wailing to be saved. Like he has nothing better to do, y’know? Like Invincible is the big damn hero who’s tripping over himself to make all the widdle pathetic babies feel better, when they should’ve just crawled into a fucking hole if they’re so weak they can be taken out by D-list villains. For fuck’s sake.

Instead?

Instead, he’s gotta swoop down and play nice. Not for his fucking image - literally, who gives a shit? Dad’s doing fine and he’s antisocial as fuck, people love him anyway because he’s big and strong and takes care of all their shitty problems - and not because Eve said he sucked at comforting the civvies, like the bitch is much better.

I can do bigger things his fucking ass, she’ll be crawling back to hero work within the month, just wait and see. She likes to play at saviour but it’s the fight she loves, and they both know it. It’s why they get along great when she isn’t being such a goddamn priss. Fuck, he can’t wait for the next time she gets all pent up and ‘abandons her self-respect’, or whatever the fuck she said the last time she left his bed.

First things first.

He swoops down to the nearest injured ant, and yeah, so what if he always talks to the pretty ones first? It isn’t like he ignores the rest. He pastes on a goddamn winning smile, checks his hair in the cracked glass of a motorbike shop, and no one ever says the right words.

A mohawk actually suits you

Surprised, joking, casual, mocking - whatever it is, he hasn’t heard it yet.

But he keeps trying.

It’s whatever. So fucking what, if he got on one of his dumb fucking weeks of trying out soulmate phrases. It happens every few months, and it’s never gonna work, and who cares? Doesn’t make a difference when the other person never responds right. Or when they do, those few times he actually gets the words he’s hoping for, it’s the wrong person.

That’s worse, right. That’s what makes him slip up, and it’s the whole reason his deadbeat absentee fuckhead of a sperm donor thinks Mark is gonna follow in his footsteps. Gonna be the perfect little soldier, wind him up and watch him go, and if Mark wasn’t so fucking weak he’d have set the record straight.

Mom said he doesn’t have to listen to Nolan, but she doesn’t get it. Mark doesn’t want her to get it, and he’d have his brains bashed in before he let her know what Nolan’s training is for.

He’ll figure a way out of this. He’ll get them both through, and his soulmate, and it’ll be okay.

Jesus, it’s gotta be okay in the end, right? Gotta be a way out, always is, and his soulmate is gonna say help yourself and it’d be too damn pathetic if he was the one crawling to them for help. Even if, fucking obviously, it’s extremely unlikely that’s the context they’re going for.

It’ll be funny. When they say it, and he says whatever his words to them are - he’ll get to tell them about trying to game the system for years, and they’ll laugh. They’ll like him.

He can be likeable, when he puts the effort in, even though he’s an asshole and he’s never kept up a relationship for more than a couple weeks. He’ll be good to his soulmate, because it’s his soulmate. One of a kind, secret level shit. No retries. No loading a save and starting over.

Maybe more - how deep does the Earth’s crust go? Could he check? He should check. Oooh, maybe in the middle of a city and all the lava would spew out and he’d tell Dad that rebels did it and Dad would say, “Don’t call them rebels, son, it encourages them,” as if Mark doesn’t want them be to be encouraged, duh.

Like these guys! Super rebellious, and the blond lady was giving this cool speech but then he got bored because, like, it didn’t actually hurt much when her big lightning array thingy was holding him in place - the buzz wore off a couple minutes in which is sooooo laaaaame and he started thinking about how Dad keeps saying they should do more for the Empire and go off planet and expansion expansion get that fucking DLC quick and Mark felt annoyed so he ripped the lady’s head off and shoved it through her soulmate’s stomach. A classic!

“Wake uuuup,” he whines and kicks at one of the armoured dudes that spawned like pop up knights from all the mirrors in this joint.

But the metal just flings across the room and smashes through an old ass piano.

He slumps over. What a let down.

The whole world just hates Mark having any fun, and he knows he can make his own fun and be an independent woman and not need no man, but like, man. What’s a guy gotta do to have a good time around here? Should he join the rebellion so he can finally stir up a bit of excitement? Ugh, but then Dad would lecture him, and he really hates Dad’s lectures, but not enough to want Dad dead because it’s his Dad and everything is just totally the worst, and no one understands.

If he had a soulmate, they’d understand.

He meets his own eyes in one of the mirrors. Most of them have cracked or smashed, but a few remain. He drifts over to one huge mirror near the slightly less huge but still plenty big set of double wooden doors that he blasted through earlier.

He widens his eyes and crosses them until it makes him laugh, tugs at the corner of the eyeholes where it hooks up in a super cool way, and he’s really, really glad Art did such an amazing job when Mark told him exactly what he wanted when he was a kid. Sucks that Art died, but he was an old dude anyway, and humans don’t last long.

Dude, you have pretty eyes

His soulmark is still there on his chest.

He checks sometimes, because they’re supposed to fade a little if his soulmate dies before they meet. But he isn’t a dumb little kid now - he knows they’re really unlikely to meet, since not everyone does despite it being a promise that they’ll speak to him and say his words and love him and understand him and love him - and he’s obviously one of the unlucky few.

Sucks a lot. He doesn’t think about it much, just whenever he sees his eyes, because they kind of belong to his soulmate, really. He hates when they get gouged out or stabbed in a fight. Feels personal, y’know? Like the bad guy is trying to steal them from his soulmate, and that’s just not cool.

Even if they never ever ever meet-

He rubs his thumb under the rim of his eye, presses the nail in until it hurts. Grins.

It doesn’t feel right. Even now, with weeks to get used to it, this feels wrong. Not wrong the way it should, how it might for people who are better at being people. Not that kind of devastation, like you imagine Debbie is feeling. You don’t know for sure; you haven’t seen her since it all began. Cecil didn’t take you to the same spot. Wonder why, ha.

But yeah, it feels wrong the way waking up in the middle of the night and seeing a sunrise might. Or that missing step at the bottom of a staircase you’ve been down hundreds of times.

The lights go red and alarms start blaring. You wince and wish your headphones blocked out more of the noise, the fast beat and guitar riffs reduced to a low rumble under it all.

With a sigh, you find a corner to lean your back against where the flashing lights are at least a little less overbearing. You’re somewhere near the cafeteria, but mid-afternoon there shouldn’t be a lot of people there. This base has filled up over time, a mix of agents and labrats and their families, because nothing’s worse for morale than leaving your spouse and kids out in a warzone.

Everyone seems to know who you are. You go between hating it and feeling grateful no one bothers you.

Stiltedly explained protocol says you should go back to the cramped room you’ve been assigned and wait for security to guide you out. You’ve no idea where the emergency checkpoints are. Or the exit.

The floor shakes, an earthquake rocking up your legs, and you wonder if the whole place will come down around you. On you. If it’s an attack without, y’know, much care for whoever’s in here. If Mark even knows you’re down here. If he even cares.

You snort. Okay, that sounded pathetic. But you are being literal, not just self-pitying. For all you know-

Gunfire rattles down from the corridor to your left. Hard to tell how far away, when sound travels strangely down here. Echoes further in some spots than others.

But this time, the source turns out to be closer than expected.

Five GDA agents round the corner. The two at the back are facing behind them, guns up - some kind of rifle, the barrel bulky and thick. They all have helmets on but the one closest is smashed, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with a puckered scar on his cheek.

He spots you at the same time, and his pace doesn’t falter. You wince when he pulls your headphones down around your neck and noise floods in.

“V2-b located. Bringing her to station.” He grips your arm and drags you along to match his stride, another forward-facing agent on your left. You don’t resist even though he could’ve just told you to follow.

“What’s going on?” you ask, feeling your lip twitch at the stupid question.

You already know. But you want to hear what they’ll tell you, some part of your mind still engaged enough to want to understand the stakes and how at risk you are from these people. The GDA didn’t secure you out of the goodness of their hearts.

Predictably, no one answers.

They keep hustling you forward, then left, then forward again - through a set of double doors you’ve never had clearance to access, revealing a wide open space full of lab equipment. No clue what the various machinery and pumps and microscopes are specifically for, but you can take an educated guess on the overall mandate.

The whole time, the destruction keeps up just out of sight and in the vibrations of the building around you. Makes it feel more and more like a wavering deck of cards on the brink of crumbling. What a way to go.

One of the agents is fussing with the door out when something makes you turn around.

It isn’t a sound. The alarm blocks out too much for the soft whine of flight to register. It’s a different kind of sense, closer to touch than hearing or sight. The knowing of reaching out in the dark, and a certainty that a wall is right there, just a centimetre further. The tension of sitting beside someone, thighs flush and shoulders brushing, and feeling the gap between your hands with the same pressure as an actual grip.

You’re barely able to see past the human barricade. Just enough to glimpse the yellow of his mask, dyed orange by the pulsing red lights. Invincible.

Mark.

For the first time in…who knows how long, you take a breath which doesn’t feel forced.

“Please, stop. No one else has to get hurt." His voice manages to carry even while he keeps to a coaxing, careful tone. Like he’s still a hero trying to talk down a bad guy. “Just tell me where she is.”

He could mean Debbie. It’s plausible. The tightening formation of the agents says they think otherwise.

“Leave the facility, or we will open fire,” says one of the two at the front. The modulator keeps their tone steady and robotic, and you wonder if their voice shakes under it. They can’t seriously believe they’ll get out of this alive if Invincible is…

This isn’t right, and you want to laugh. It sounds so childish, even just within your head.

“I can’t leave yet,” he says, and you recognise the tone, how it firms with his resolve.

You make a choice.

“Mark?”

His identity was blown right at the start. Even if you weren’t in a GDA base, saying his name would mean nothing now. This world is so far past the point of secret identities that it…it gives you a pang of sadness, something like mourning for what was. What should’ve been.

A breath, two, and then he rises higher in the research lab - and even with the lenses, you can tell he’s looking directly at you. Can see him mouth your name.

Then you’re being yanked back, and a pistol is pressed under your chin. Not a smart choice, but given the limited options, you get it. You too would threaten the teenage (ex?) girlfriend of Invincible if he was, like, right up in your base.

“Don’t hurt her!” Mark’s voice lashes out, and oh, he shouldn’t be so obvious. The fear easy to hear, even as violence coils through him - fists clenched, the threatening bend to his body in the air.

“Let her go, or I’ll kill you,” is stronger, a certainty which doesn’t fit him. Shouldn’t fit him.

He’s already killed thousands. You saw the footage, the death tolls, before the GDA plucked you up. You’ve heard people talk in the weeks since. He really…

It shouldn’t be like this.

“No one will hurt her if you leave.” The captain’s voice is much calmer, the pistol still against your skin. His arm is around your chest, holding you to him, and you stay relaxed. You don’t really fancy painting the- well, not the high ceiling. The floors and maybe the wall would get splashed with your brains, you figure. Not ideal.

“I don’t believe you.” The air changes, again. Thrums against your skin.

You hear the doors behind you slide open.

You blink.

The gun is gone. There’s a scream, and then no one is at your back. Bullets fired and the flash of them behind you, and you start to turn, but before you’ve gone more than ninety degrees-

Hands cup your cheeks, tilt your face up, and Mark is there.

“Hey,” he says, soft and wavering like the smile stretching across his face. “Hey, Robin. I…I found you. I’ve got you, okay? You’re safe now.”

Blood drips down the side of his face, overlapping his ear. His thumbs stroke your cheekbones, fingers at the edge of your jaw, and he’s being so gentle. So careful, under the blaring alarm and flashing lights, and the smell of rust filling the air.

“I’ll keep you safe this time,” he promises. “We’ve just- we’ve gotta go. I have a place and- we can talk there, I’ll explain everything, so don’t…don’t be scared. Please. Please, don’t be scared of me.”

“I don’t…” You swallow, and wish he wasn’t wearing the cowl. Stupid lenses. But you don’t get why he’s bothering to say this at all - if he’s here for you, why is it important enough for him to stop? If he’s joined his dad, if he’s killing people, why the fuck do you matter?

But for actual changes between Robin versions, her character does have a 'baseline' that can be tilted different directions based on surroundings/Mark in question? For example, in one Sinister AU I've done a chapter and a half of, Robin is actually older (22ish) and working as a mechanic, and she's...a lot meaner. And flirtier? Weird combo.

As an out of context snippet:

Fucking loser. Dressed up all pretty to kill off his fixation, just to falter at the first hurdle. What, did he think you were gonna cower the second you saw him? Make this easy? It’s so painfully obvious he’s in the pre-heating stage of the Sinister refinement process, you’re nearly embarrassed for him. Like you’re being given a glimpse into the humiliating childhood stories of a celeb, tearing away all sense of mystery and intrigue. If you could somehow meet the Invincible War era version now, you wouldn’t be able to take the bitch seriously.

Meanwhile over in a possible Lensless/Robin AU, she'd be having a wonderful time being a newbie GDA agent on handler duty, who accidentally got dialled through to Lensless as his mission guide for a day - and enamoured him so fast he fakes being deaf whenever any other agent talks to him.

I also have a couple chapters of a Viltrumite Robin AU which leads into the start of season 2, but if she was in say a Viltrumite Mark type AU (assuming he's raised in the Empire) she'd probably still be drawn to Conquest first and only realise waaaay later that this is an AU situation.

Spotting Mark and staring in utter confusion and oh my god how did I miss this Conquest did you knock all my braincells out the last time you blew the side of my skull off???

...

Wonder if he can hit as hard as Conquest...He looks a bit wimpy, but he's got main character energy going for him, maybe-

Honestly I could play out different scenarios for all variants lmao, I do think it'd be so so funny if in one universe Robin dates a widowed Nolan (after searching out his space battles books because she'd probably love that shit, and sending a rambling complaining letter about why isn't there more gimme the goods to the publisher with unexpected consequences) and gives Mark Massive New Issues xD

RobEve ahhh do you know. how much. I've failed to reign myself in while writing their interactions in part 2 of Exit Penalty??? Like damn in the main AU these morons are probably gonna end up blurring a few lines at some point, but at the very least, can they hold off until a few decades in?

There's a scene later in part 1 that'll really set up the foundation for their friendship - a big part of it being Robin's mix of curiosity and enthusiasm about Eve's powers, and encouragement to explore non-traditional ways of saving the world. Part 2 also gets a small Eve POV to give a little perspective there, and the Roadtrip Arc has lots of interactions.

But oooh doomed yuri, yeah, I love the idea of that in a Bad Mark timeline. Like the one at the start of season 2 - if Robin somehow ended up with the rebels instead, and grew closer to Eve? The confliiiict. Because gal ain't moral, but she gets deeply attached to the people she does care about. And I really like that Eve, she's so cool.

...And if you've seen fanart of possible Sinster/evil Eve's oh booooy Robin would be flying the rainbow flag in surrender-

Robin wouldn't generally put much stock into this 'soulmate thing' so there's no reason she wouldn't be drawn to a variant Mark. Tho damn that'd make for some DRAMA if they all do an Invincible War and Robins are like-

"Whoa whoa whoooa wait a fucking minute-"

"How the fuck-"

"Haha you got that one? Wow your luck sucks bitch"

"I fixed him."

"Liar, you definitely made it worse"

"Lmao totally, it's really funny actually-"

"Uhh what's with the...eyes?"

"Did you not upgrade yet?"

"That's an option?"

"Wait, how far are you into the backstory unlocking questline?"

"I didn't know we had one"

"No, no, we do, I just got stuck at the motel section"

"oh fuck that section, was it the paintings?"

"No, the cave got me"

"Ahhhh"

"Fuuuck the cave"

"If only"

"So you don't know yet how we- oh we should probably not talk about this in front of The Men"

"Nah, i already spilled the entire deal to mine"

"Same" "Same" "Same-"

"I gave mine an existential crisis lmao he still hasnt recovered, look at him"

And then the Advanced Stage Robins sets off the Hivemind Route-

Okay but to swing back to the actual question lol, one sided soulbonds don't exist in this AU, variants would definitely want harem master Mark dead but depending on their stability level wouldnt want their Robin to suffer the fallout of that. Also, depending on the Robin advancement stage, the variant would be in Big Danger if he tried.

And not 100% sure what you mean on the late Exit Penalty Mark bit? If you mean him potentially being in an era where he lacks a Robin after previously having one uhhh

spoilery spoilery

Case in point.

“That was a bust. So glad I risked my life for the vital intel that- oh! We’re all still fucked? Is that right? We-e-ell, that’s news to me! Is it news to you? How the fuck is it news to anyone on this entire damn planet-”

“Shhhhh!” You hold your finger in front of your lips and widen your eyes imploringly at Rex. “We don’t support that kind of can't-do attitude around these parts, cowboy. Take your quitter talk and shove it up your ass, Rexy baby, ’cause I dunno about you but I think every day alive should be appreciated. Can you not feel the air in your lungs, the persisting beat of your heart, the war drum of rebellion-”

“Oh my god, stooop! You’re so fucking annoying!” He lunges but you’re fast, or at least, pretty good at guessing when he’s gonna get physical. And at running. And dodging, lots of practice there, even if a refugee camp in a subway is a bitch of a place to practice evasive tactics.

So obviously, gotta call in backup.

“Assault! Help! I’m being attacked by a scary weirdo!”

“I’ll show you scary and weird! What do I have here- oh ho ho, a mirror! Come take a look you freaky freak-”

“What the hell are you two doing?”

“Eve!” You twist toward her voice, hopping a crate and- whoops, definitely didn’t land that properly, time to slam face first into concrete (again. Today sucked).

But before you can crash land into reality (ha), you’re caught by your hero.

At first a soft blanket of pink to stop your fall, cushioning your upper body. Then her hands on your shoulders, easing the path back to your feet.

“Careful,” she says, trying to look stern but failing to prevent the softening around her tired green eyes. Still lovely, of course they are, but you’re always too conscious of the weight she’s taken on her shoulders. How she’s changed in the months since it all went to hell.

“I was careful out there,” you offer in compromise, because that’s kinda what it is. Getting to leave the base at all is one big compromise, and Eve hates to admit that out of everyone, you have the best bet of making it through alive if all comes to the worst.

Or, y’know, you act like you believe that too. You don’t by this point, and yeah, that sometimes smarts like a bitch.

“But since you’re around down here-” You step closer, tilt your face invitingly. “Can’t help being reckless. Know you’ll save me, Eve.”

“Will I?” she scoffs, but you’ve got her - she’s holding your waist, finally smiling just a little. “Maybe I should let you face the consequences instead.”

“You’d side with your ex over me?” Heartbroken, you lean away.

Only to get reeled back in, and you hear Rex’s obnoxious groan before he stomps off. Huh, was he still nearby? C’mon, dude should know better by now. At least he doesn’t bother complaining loudly in an attempt to get the attention back-

“It might teach you some self-preservation,” Eve says, lips just a couple inches away now, hand sliding under the edge of your jacket to rest on your lower back. You shiver, feeling her fingers carefully trace the scar.

Self-preservation. Yeah, that’s an old argument. You try, but…can’t help what you are, in the end of it all. Can’t help what this is - impending doom sure does make it difficult to sweat the small stuff.

It also makes every bright spot shine with greater intensity.

“It might,” you allow, cupping her cheek. Fierce, brave, loving Eve, her eyes closing as she leans just lightly into your palm. Never able to rest, not here, especially not in view of everyone who needs her - but giving in to this much, and isn’t that terribly human? “We live in hope.”

“For one more day.”