Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The stupid thing is that he wasn’t even doing anything dangerous. Mecha Man had gotten a little carried away in a fight and pushed the suit past its limits, resulting in more than a few damages. He was fixing those damages when he got his hand pinned between plates of armor that should have been removed before attempting repairs.

Robert was tired and it takes time and energy to do things properly. Time and energy he doesn’t have, not when Shroud is out there, hiding in the shadows, and damn if his name didn’t fit even better now that he’d made a villain of himself.

Pulling several all-nighters is probably affecting the processing speed of the new hero, because he can’t for the life of him figure out what he’d just done to trigger the plates closed.

Stupid fucking idiot mistake. Shouldn’t have dodged into a fucking brick wall Mecha Man. The suit can take a hit from a random thug it’ll be Fine, but NOT if you ram it into solid concrete.

A wet nose on the hand that isn’t actively losing feeling snaps Robert out of the slow start of a spiral. He glances down at Beef, the rotund little corgi gazing back with those adorable little eyes. Never fails to bring a smile to Robert’s face. Well, almost never.

Right.

His hand is stuck and it’s starting to feel cold.

Trying and failing to figure how exactly the plates had closed up leads Robert to consider (not really) calling Chase back to ask for help. The speedster wouldn’t know anything about the machine anyways, and he’d… he’d look at Robert in that way that made him feel like the furthest thing from Mecha Man and he didn’t need that right now. He had to focus.

Armed with a flathead screwdriver and a crude understanding of the mech suit, Robert leans closer to the affected arm and tries to manually pry the plate up. The suit’s offline, power source sitting on the counter next to a bag of dog treats, so no defense mechanisms should be triggered.

Unfortunately, it works. Suddenly. The full force of one Robert-power behind the flathead sends it slipping out of control across the plate and directly into his newly freed arm.

He stares at it, about an inch and a half buried in the skin, clean for a second or two, uncanny how it almost looks like it belongs there before the blood starts leaking around the edges of the tool.

“Ow.”

You’re not generally supposed to remove things you’ve been stabbed with; they hold the blood in until you can get to a doctor. Robert, however, has a large first aid kit and no health insurance. He does wait until he’s retrieved the former from the cupboard before removing the screwdriver.

After all is cleaned and patched up, he has a bowl of cereal; dry because he hadn’t noticed the milk was expired until he opened the jug and it smelled like something had shat everywhere, died, then pissed and shat everywhere again.

Then it’s a session of laying on the floor with Beef, debating if he should pick up where he left off or wait until tomorrow.

“Uff. Auuf.”

Robert snorts. “You’re so right buddy.”

Beef blinks, licks a paw he can barely reach. Robert probably needs to feed him less snacks, for his health. But he’s weak, and the thought of if he loses the little guy and he’d never gotten to experience Chili’s honey-chipotle chicken crispers? Robert doesn’t know if he could live with that guilt.
He should really eat supper or something before getting back to work.

Robert falls asleep on the floor instead.

Chapter Text

He shouldn’t have gotten out of the suit. He should have done literally anything other than getting out of the suit. But he had, because he's a sucker for animals, and now that he’s sprinting down a dark alley at night, he really hopes whatever is chasing him has the decency to kill him quickly.

“Shit. Fuck.”

A singsong voice rings out from behind him as he reaches a dead end. “End of the liiiine, Mecha Man, you’ve got nowhere left to run.”

There’s a gap between two buildings, too small for a grown man to fit through though, even one as lithe as him. Mecha Man looks around frantically as clicking footsteps approach. There’s a sturdy metal door, upon checking though it’s locked.

Bluffing it is then.

“Nowhere for you to run either. You should really just turn yourself in now.”

That gets a laugh as the villain steps leisurely into view. Their long spindly limbs are decorated with black clothing and gold chains of varying sizes. The word ‘streetwear-a-rich-asshole-would-wear’ comes to mind.

“Is that so? Do tell why I should be afraid of the man who was just running away from me like a little pissbaby!”

Their smile shows all too many perfect white teeth. The golden fangs do really pull the whole outfit together though.

Stall and think goddamnit.

“Those custom made? What kind of dental insurance do you use for something like that?”

The smile falls, and Mecha Man can’t help but cringe inside, knowing that was the wrong topic to buy time with. He keeps his stance light, knowing he has a better chance at slipping by and running back to his suit than he does in attempting a fight outside of it.

“I don’t have insurance.” The being pauses, smile returning as white eyes lock with brown. “But for your sake, I hope yours is pretty good. I don’t need you in one piece for this.”

They lunge forward, claws whistling through the air on a clear trajectory for Mecha Man’s face. He drops hard, pain blooming in his knees that he ignores as a fresh wave of adrenaline hits him. He bolts, or he tries to, a long leathery tail wraps itself around his leg and pulls. Mecha Man immediately looses any sense of footing and direction as he’s lifted upside down and whipped around to hang in front of the villain speaking to him. His hip aches as the weight and velocity of his body pulls down on it.

“Now, now, I’m surprised at your lack of manners, Mecha Man! We’ve barely said hello.” A red light flashes by the left side of their head, and they tilt it to the side as if listening to a voice. Probably an open com. “6-02 reporting. Yes, the package is in custody.”

6-02 is probably a code name, but it’s more than 'the spidery-lizardy-canid-thing'. Filing that away for later, Mecha Man punches the tail and gets shaken roughly in response; a glare sent his way but nothing more. His right hip is burning now, blood rushing to his head making him feel dizzy.

“Mhmm. It’s not like it was hard. He was already out of the suit when I found him. Trying to get a cat out of a dumpster or something.”

Yeah, they were definitely talking about him to whoever sent them. Probably those thugs he'd pissed off about a month ago when he'd come across them trying to extort AyudoDude, a hero known more for his healing capabilities and friendly attitude than his fighting prowess. 

“I dunno. If he had remote control, it’d probably be here by now.”

A fob for the suit was something he was going to look into after this. If there was an after. Right now, he had to find a way to use the current distraction and overconfidence of his foe against them. He was being dangled close enough to 6-02’s body that if he was quick about it, he could probably reach one of the chains hanging from their neck with his free leg. He’d probably tear a hamstring or something but if he could get them in a chokehold… it was a more likely escape than outrunning them at this point, what with the blood rushing to his head making it hard just to think, and the fire in his hip turning to an icy stabbing sensation.

Flight hadn’t worked, so it was time for fight.

“Alright I’ll meet you behind that little place near Jim’s. Yep, the- the one with the sign, yeah. K’ bye.”

As soon as the red light goes out, Mecha Man twists hard and strikes out with his left foot, causing 6-02 to reel back- but not fast enough for them to avoid the hero’s boot hooking onto one of the chains around their neck and tugging them into reach of his arms.

“You motherfuck-ghn“

6-02 tries to fling Mecha Man into the ground away from them, finally releasing him from the constricting grip of their tail. They succeed in dazing him, the tearing sensation in his right leg sending electric stars straight up his spine but not releasing themself from his desperate grasp as he locks his arms around their neck, chain still caught around his left leg.

Definitely tore something with that stunt.

The positioning is awkward, and he’s not even sure their anatomy is similar enough for the chokehold to work, but it’s his only option so Mecha Man holds on. Once they realize what’s happening, 6-02’s claws come up to rake across barely protected flesh.

 He’s so full of adrenaline, cortisol, and various other high stress hormones that he doesn’t even feel it, not in a way that fully registers. He can tell that something on his back has ripped open, sharp points of what should be pain dig so deep they play across his ribs like a xylophone.

The leg tangled in the chain is red now, and he’s not sure where the blood is coming from but the villain below him is slowing, their loud cursing and frantic movement giving way to gasping breaths and sluggish swaying.

Then they finally fall. Blessedly on their face and not on top of Mecha Man. He keeps the hold for a long moment after, making sure it isn’t a bluff. He won’t have the strength to get a new hold if it is.

6-02 lies still.

Congealing blood drips onto the filthy ground of the dark alley as Mecha Man stumbles back to his suit. How his right leg hasn't entirely given out on him is a miracle he has no presence of mind to appreciate. He feels like TV static, and nearly misses his phone, somehow still where he'd dropped it, screen protector cracked but otherwise intact.

“m'guess this'd be a call Chase moment.”

The words feel like acid and grit in his throat.

While he knows his uncle would be there in a second if he called, literally a single second, he just can’t do it. He nearly passes out trying to bend down to grab the phone, head spinning as the loss of a very serious amount of blood catches up to him all at once. He sends an emergency alert to the first number in his contacts, “AyudaDude”, He owes Mecha Man a favor for saving his ass last time anyhow.

Trying to convince himself he’s making the smartest decision, not at all motivated by shame and fear, Mecha Man crawls beneath the relative safety of his suit, too tired and hurt to consider climbing into it, to fight for consciousness while he holds out for a hero.