“Anywhere but Crypto Night,” Punch Up answered.
“Flambae got banned,” Invisigal said.
“Nice,” Malevola said.
“Let’s go to the Sardine,” Invisigal suggested. “Or are you banned from that one too?”
“Shut up,” Flambae said.
“Good week, everybody,” Robert said. “See you all on Monday.”
“Too cool to get a drink with us?” Punch Up asked.
“Don’t be a biiiiitch,” Prism added.
“Be chill for once in your life,” Golem rumbled.
“Spend some time with us,” Sonar said. “Come on, we know you don’t have plans.”
“I mean, the Sardine’s a villain bar,” Robert said, packing up his backpack. “Not sure I’d fit in.”
“Just go dressed like that,” Invisigal suggested. “Everyone’ll just think you’re a pervert.”
There was a cascade of laughter from the rest of the team.
“Yeah, um, alright,” Robert relented.
“Fuck yeah, Bobby Boy!” Prism cheered.
“Let’s fucking gooooooooo,” Malevola hollered. “Literally. Right now.”
“I am also excited, Robert—Robert,” Waterboy said.
When he finally got to the Sardine, he saw Golem listening to earbuds, leaning against the alley wall of the bar. “Why are you out here?” Robert asked.
“Too damn big,” Golem said.
“Well, you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
“You want two?” Robert offered.
“Sure.”
The bouncer at the door was wearing an eyepatch, and when Robert approached, he aggressively stuck a hand out, shoving Robert’s chest back. “Hey, creep,” he said.
“Creep?”
“I don’t know you,” the bouncer said, “and I don’t like not knowing people.”
“Well, you won’t like knowing him,” Invisigal called out from the doorway. “He’s the biggest perv west of the L.A. river… and he’s with us.” She walked back inside.
“Uh, she’s joking,” Robert tried, “I’m not—”
“Not my business,” the bouncer cut him off. “But if you go jerkin’ off in the bathroom,” he lifted up the eyepatch to reveal a red laser eye, “you make it my business.”
“Um, that’s um,” Robert started moving toward the door. “I don’t want to be in that business.”
***
He walked inside and was immediately shoulder checked by someone headed out. Continuing in, there was loud, live music playing, drinks everywhere, and a fistfight happening right in the middle of the bar. Invisigal was at a table near the fist fight arguing with someone and Malevola was overpowering someone in an arm wrestle at the table right next to them. Robert was shoulder checked by another guy as he made his way further inside, a big guy with tattoos and a face that looked half crocodile. Robert let it go and continued to the bar, trying to flag the bartender down as he flitted around to the multiple patrons yelling for him. Before he ever got the man’s attention, a voice popped up behind him.
“Buy me a drink,” Malevola said, leaning on the bar next to him.
Robert cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s your poison? More gasoline?”
“Neh,” she shrugged, “I think they have diesel here.”
He smiled and laughed, then failed once more at flagging down the bartender. After a moment, he said, “Hey listen, Mal… thanks for the other night. It really helped.”
“Sure thing, babes,” she smirked at him. “Seemed like you really needed it.”
He smiled warmer and glanced away. Then he winced in pain and she asked, “Everything alright?”
“Ah, yeah,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just between that high ethanol hangover you gave me and the fuckin’ power outage, I have a headache from hell.”
“Where, right here?” her hand came up immediately, laying gently along the side of his face, then her fingers slid around onto the back of his head and neck.
Robert’s eyes went wide and he inhaled sharply without even thinking about it. “Y-yeah.” A moment later, he felt a tingling where her fingers touched, like pins and needles reaching under the skin. Faint veins of red light flashed in his peripheral vision as they moved from her hand and up her arm like lightning bolts.
It was over as quick as it began and when she pulled her hand away, not only was his headache gone, his entire back felt looser—like he’d just gotten a deep tissue massage. “Holy shit, was that the wound transferral thing I read about in your file?”
“Yeah,” she smirked.
“Does that not hurt?” Robert rolled his shoulder out, amazed at how refreshed he felt.
“Eh, not for something so small. And I can’t do it constantly, but…”
A look came over her face that Robert thought looked affectionate. “What?”
“Nothing,” she snapped back to her casual playfulness. “Hurry up, Dispatch, I’m thirsty over here.”
He watched her for a moment later, then looked at the bartender and firmly said, “Hey! Two fancy whiskies, please.”
“Make it three,” Prism appeared on Malevola’s other side.
“Four,” Invisigal popped out of thin air next to Prism.
“Five,” Punch Up shoved between Malevola and Robert to hop up on a stool.
“Five fancy whiskies?” The bartender asked.
“No, um,” Robert answered. “Nine shitty whiskies.”
“Good lad,” Punch Up tapped him on the back. “We shoulda invited him out earlier.”
“We thought he was a fuckin’ narc,” Malevola said.
“Never said that,” Prism corrected. “Said he reminded me of my ex and he’s got buzzkill ass energy.
“Earlier?” Robert asked. “How long you been going out like this?”
“Since day one,” Malevola said.
“Don’t act surprised,” Punch Up said. “You were the bad guy until—wait,” he turned back to Mal and Prism. “When did we decide he wasn’t the bad guy?”
“Tuesday,” Prism said simply.
The bartender dropped off nine shitty whiskies. Prism, Mal, Visi, and Punch Up all grabbed one, and Robert told them, “Cheers,” loading the rest up to dish out. As soon as he turned around, he ran into the large guy with tattoos that had shoulder checked him. The guy was purposely standing close so Robert would run into him.
“Excuse me,” Robert said.
The guy just glared for a moment, then finally stepped aside.
Waterboy was struggling to get the bartender’s attention, saying, “Excuse me, um, sir? When you have a moment…”
“Take one of these,” Robert told him, and handed over a whiskey.
“To what do I owe this—you—sir?”
“You’re good,” Robert laughed and tapped him on the shoulder. “Have fun.” Next he walked over to Flambae, who was looking for a song to perform via karaoke.
“Dude, be honest,” Flambae said when he got close. “Am I going to make a fool of myself if I sing Whitney Houston?”
“Are you Whitney Houston?” Robert set the whiskey down next to him.
“No.”
“Then, yeah. You will.”
“Fuck,” Flambae muttered as Robert walked away. “He’s right.”
Sonar was playing pool when Robert dropped off his whiskey. He hesitantly grabbed Robert’s arm and said, “Wait, uh… this is kind of hard for me. Look, I know it was probably a by the books, bottom line, kind of decision, but… thanks.”
Robert tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
As he was turning to leave again, Sonar spoke a little firmer and said, “Hey, I have a question.”
Robert turned back. “What’s up?”
“Did you go on a date with Mal?”
“Uh,” Robert paused. “I think the most accurate way to describe it is she took me out, but more or less, yeah. Is that… does that bother you?”
Sonar shook his head. “Oh, no—sorry, didn’t mean to come across as jealous or something. She’s just a friend. But she’s a good friend, which is why I’m asking.”
“You’re looking out for her,” Robert noted.
“Yeah. If you’re interested in her, I hope it’s for the right reasons.”
Robert nodded, thinking for a moment. “She made a joke that she’s a lot of people’s fetish, but I get the feeling it bothers her a little. Makes genuine relationships difficult—do I got that about right?”
“Yeah,” Sonar said, taking a sip of his drink.
Robert gave him a reassuring smile. “I can promise any interest I have in her isn’t so superficial.”
“Thanks man,” Sonar raised his drink up.
Robert tapped him on the shoulder and stepped away.
***
Next he brought two whiskies outside and handed them to Golem, who had moved to sitting on the curb right outside the door. The bouncer tried protesting the alcohol being outside the bar, but Robert just held up one finger, popped back inside, then brought the bouncer a drink too. The bouncer just said, “Ah, fine,” and took the drink.
When Robert went back in and looked for a place to sit, he saw the rest of the team enjoying themselves, but no seats were available that he could tell. Prism was in a booth with two guys he didn’t recognize, Punch Up was at a table with someone shady, Malevola was arm wrestling again and Sonar was cheering her on. Finally, he spotted Invisigal, who was in a booth by herself. She motioned with her eyes for him to join her.
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He slid into the booth, handed her the whiskey, and said, “Everyone thinks I’m a narc.”
“They can still smell the hero on you,” she said. “You’re the enemy.”
“I bought them drinks, what else do they want?”
“You can buy them drinks,” Visi said, “you can make sure they don’t get fired. You can line ‘em up and blow ‘em one by one—they’re still gonna think you might be the hero that fucked up their life.”
“People don’t think about much when I blow them,” Robert joked, “but, I hear what you’re saying. Though, I’d argue they fucked up their own lives when they decided to be criminals.”
“See, that’s narc shit,” Visi said. “Just tell them who you are. What’re the odds that you busted any of them anyway?” She took a long pull from her drink and he just stared at her as an answer. “Oh.”
Robert thought back to the fight he remembered during that morning’s workout. After he had fallen down to the floor below, he pushed his mech back up to standing and looked around for his attacker. They flew past him twice before he smacked them on the third fly by.
He stood back and waited for Flambae to get back on his feet.
“Come on, you out of gas?” Mecha Man had said when Flambae approached. “Disappointing.”
He’d just answered by shooting a high-powered, continuous blast of fire from his hand. Mecha Man blocked it with his shield. Flambae blasted harder and harder, keeping Mecha Man on the defensive. Mecha Man shot nets out overhead, but Flambae burned them up before they ever got close. Mecha Man tried shooting him with his arm blaster, but Flambae’s fire just grew more intense, forcing Mecha Man back to defense.
He was pushed back until he was up against a wall, and Flambae had just kept advancing, the fire growing ever more intense. When he was close enough, Mecha Man had extended the energy blade on the opposite arm from his shield, and swung.
Robert and Invisigal glanced at the stage where Flambae was holding a microphone with a hand that was missing half the pinky and ring fingers. He was singing,
“I’m a bitch, my name’s Robert,
Such a bitch who’s name is Robert,
I’m a bitch, yeah I’m a bitch,
I’m such a fucking bitch.
I have no hopes, I have no dreams,
And a tiny little peen,
And it doesn’t even function anyway,
Because I have erectile dysfunction.”
“Shit,” Invisigal said. “I thought he lost it working in a deli or something.”
“And there was this incident at Crypto,” Robert said, “where he was fucking with me and I kinda…”
“I’ve been dealing with that whistley ass tooth because of you?” Visi asked.
“Uh, well, it was self-inflicted, but I’m not sure he’ll see it that way.”
Visi just stared at him.
“So,” Robert continued. “You can see why I’m worried about getting incinerated.”
“We all pay for who we used to be,” Visi said. “Sooner you get that over with, the sooner we get a fresh start.”
“You heard me when I said incinerated, right?”
A voice spoke up behind Robert. “Who let a loser ass bitch of a hero into our supervillain bar.”
Robert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why does everyone,” he looked at Visi. “Do I look like a bitch? Don’t answer that. Fuck. Is he big? He’s got a big guy voice.”
Visi was slowly turning her head, tracking the man who had spoken as he made his way around to where Robert could see him. “Some… parts of him are big?”
“Alright,” Robert said, “from now on, team drinks are exclusively at Chili’s.”
“Are you lost or something, bitch? Or are you just tryna’ get fucked up?” The man made his way into view and Robert saw what Visi meant. He had two very large mechanical arms mounted atop his shoulders to account for the much smaller, almost atrophied looking human arms he had. “Lot of bars around here, fool. Why’d you pick this one? You got a death wish homie?”
Robert stood up as he approached. “Well, since you twisted my arm—”
The man slapped him with his weak human hand. “No one’s talkin’ to you, fuckin’ idiota.” The larger mechanical arm grabbed Robert’s entire torso and threw him clear across the bar.
“I see they finally gave you some arms that can reach your dick,” Invisigal told the man.
He lurched across the table and seized her with the mechanical arms. “There’s some people wanna talk to you, Invisibitch.”
Robert pushed himself off the floor and looked over to where Visi was struggling to get out of the man’s grip. The entire bar seemed to stand up, ready to fight them. Robert began pushing himself to his feet, ready to fight as well—
Something hit him in the back of the head.
***
Robert laid on his back staring up at the stars. He sat up as Malevola approached. She held up a cup from the fast food joint and said, “Here, try this,” before gently pressing it to the swelling in his face.
“Thanks,” Robert said. He reached up to take the cup from her, his hand wrapping around hers for a second. She intentionally lingered, staring down at him over the bridge of her nose. Then she smirked and finally let go, sliding her fingers out from under his.
***
The entire team sat around outside Taco Loco, nursing bruises. Waterboy exited holding two trays of food. “Is the—can I—spends reporting—expensable? Can I get my money back paid? Please?” He set the trays down on one of the outdoor tables and everyone tore into the food.
“I ordered three triple crunch tacos,” Robert said, still holding the drink to his head. Malevola handed him a straw. As he stabbed the straw into the cup, he thought back to their fight.
Armstrong was still holding Visi. Robert jumped on his back and stabbed a dart into the side of his face. Visi kicked him in the chest and he lurched, sending Robert flying. Prism was up on stage, singing like it was her own sold out concert. Visi slapped the darts in Armstrong’s face and he finally dropped her.
Some goon with green pincers grabbed Robert from behind. He threw his head back, slamming into the goon’s face and trying to break free. Goons approached Prism on stage and she made illusory backup dancers of herself, then a flash of light blinked and the goons all stumbled away, their eyes squeezed shut.
“Aaaargh!” One of them yelled. “She temporarily blinded me!”
“Fuck you mean, ‘temporarily?’” Prism asked into the mic. “Bitch, you blind foreva.”
***
Robert was still struggling with the green pincer goon. Then he heard a blade whistling through the air and a massive sword knocked the green pincer guy off of Robert.
***
Flambae tossed a burrito down on the wall next to Robert.
“No, I didn’t order that,” Robert told him. “I ordered th—”
“Three triple crunch tacos,” Visi cut him off, “yeah. “You’ve muttered it fifty times. Just eat that. It’s the same shit anyway. Literally everything at this place is just a remix of the same five ingredients. Hot sauce?” She threw a packet at him.
He moved his hand to catch it almost a full second too late and the packet just slapped him in the face.
“You drunk?” Visi asked. “Or concussed?”
“I’d go with both,” Golem rumbled. “Heard he took some friendly fire.”
Robert snapped his fingers and pointed at Golem, a silent, ‘affirmative.’ Then he picked up the sauce packet and tore it open, remembering more of the fight.
Robert tore the cybernetic implant out of the side of a woman’s head and she screamed bloody murder. Prism was still jamming on stage as Malevola hopped over her wall, swinging her giant sword at some goons. Flambae was double-fisting fireblasts at any idiot that got close. Visi was behind the bar and threw a beer bottle at Armstrong’s face. He tore part of the bar off, flinging it sideways, and it almost took Robert out.
Several men ran past Robert and he looked left, seeing a whole group of men crumple inwards one by one. He only realized what was causing it as Punch Up came into view and immediately punched Robert in the dick, dropping him to his knees.
“Shite,” Punch Up said. “Sorry bud.” He did a double wind up on his next punch and swung a hard uppercut into another goon’s groin. As Punch Up moved onto the next, the goon dropped to his knees and squeaked out, “He’s only punching diiiiiiiiicks.”
Prism was watching a social media video of Punch Up’s work at the bar. “You wash your hands after touching all them filthy nutsacks?”
He paused licking his fingers and glanced over at her, his thumb still in his mouth. “Thought these seemed salty.”
***
Robert was about to take a bite of a burrito he’d just put hot sauce on when Malevola yanked it from his hand. “Oooh, there she is. Thanks babes. Sauced it up for me and everything.” She winked at him and her tail came up, wrapped around three triple crunch tacos. Then she pushed her tail closer until the food was right under his nose. “Think you’re looking for these.”
Her tail faintly brushed his lips as she unfurled it, dropping the food in his lap.
Her tail lifted up and dropped his three triple crunch tacos into his lap.
Robert blushed, smiled, unwrapped a taco, then took a bite.
The tattooed asshole that shoulder checked Robert had him pinned to a wall, his hands around his jaw and neck. Robert bit the end of his thumb off and the goon dropped him. He spit the thumb-tip out and saw Visi still wrestling Armstrong behind the bar before the tattooed goon dragged him toward the bathroom by the back of his collar.
Robert was thrown against a bathroom stall door. He bounced back off it but it opened up, revealing Sonar doing a line of coke. The tattooed goon threw Robert up against the mirror, shattering it, and he landed on top of the counter. The goon breathed an orange energy beam at Robert but he dodged, then threw his hands up to defend against the goon trying to choke him again. His throat started glowing orange again as more fire built up.
Robert scrambled to avoid the attack but the goon was too strong. Just as he thought he was about to be fried, the goon was mauled from behind by a giant, coked-up bat monster.
“Thanks,” Robert choked out, falling to his knees.
***
He exited the bathroom just in time to see Prism dodge a thrown chair. Armstrong slammed Visi against a wall then pinned her to the bartop.
Malevola was choking one guy with her tail (who claimed to be super into it), she held one guy off the floor by the neck, and she blocked a third man that swung a sword at her with her even bigger sword. Then she spun, flinging two of them away and threw the third across the room where she opened a portal for him to fly out next to Golem. A couple seconds later, Golem came back through the portal looking giddy. He picked up a handful of pool balls and started launching them at people after he kicked the pool table over.
Robert jumped up on Armstrong and knocked him off of Visi as bat-monster Sonar flew through the room. Armstrong threw Robert back over the bar. Visi was on the back of his shoulders, wailing on his head—he reached up, pulled her off, and slammed her on the bar again. Robert leapt back over the bar and stabbed Armstrong in the shoulder. He pulled Robert off and pulled a giant mechanical fist back to punch Robert, but Punch Up flew out of a portal and grabbed the arm, pulling it down.
Then he punched him in the dick.
Robert grabbed one of Armstrong’s tiny human arms and Visi grabbed the other. They nodded to each other as Armstrong said, “Oh fuck, please no.”
They snapped both of his arms at once.
Robert crumpled up the wrapping paper from his three triple crunch tacos into a ball and tried shooting a basket into the garbage can.
He missed.
“Both arms?” Prism asked. “Y’all are fucked up.”
“Weird thing is how easy it was,” Visi said. “This churro isn’t as soft as his noodle arms.” Then she tore it in half.
“Maybe give us a heads up next time you wanna start a fight,” Golem said. “I wanted another drink.”
“You’re heroes now,” Robert responded. “Heroes don’t start fights. You finish them.”
They all let out a round of jeers before Malevola swirled her drink and said, “Well, not many finish fights against the Red Ring.”
“Yeah, how do you have beef with them, Mister Dispatcher?” Prism asked.
“Yeah, we know this Robert guy is a front,” Punch Up said. “Who are you? Really.”
***
“You’re right,” Robert said. “It’s a front. This guy, Robert, is a mask. He’s not real. He’s the guy who sits behind the desk, biding his time, dreaming of the day he gets back in the fight. I haven’t told you who I was because I’m kinda starting to like you all, and I’m not sure you’re gonna like the real me. But the difference between this team getting by and this team getting great is trust, so you should get to know the real me, um…
“I’m Mecha Man.” He looked around at all of their faces.
“No fuckin’ way,” Punch Up stood from his seat. “Can’t be.”
“That’s like a real superhero,” Prism said.
Malevola winked. “I like the real you—”
Flambae stepped forward. “It is you, you little shit.”
Fire erupted on both hands and he let the blast roar at Robert.
Robert braced, throwing a hand up and remembering how it felt to barely be able to block that fire with his mech suit. But when he didn’t die, he peeked over his arm and saw Golem standing between himself and Flambae, tanking the blast with his whole body.
Flambae got tired and the flames sputtered out. He took several heavy breaths and lit up both hands to try again.
Malevola splashed her drink on one hand and stood up, ready to fight. Waterboy threw up water on the other hand. Flambae rounded on him like he was ready to fight and Waterboy didn’t even try to back down, he just prepped more water to douse him.
The rest of the team broke into laughter and Flambae finally pointed at them and said, “Fuck you. Fuck all of you fucking fuckers,” and he covered his entire body in flames and flew away.
“What a fuckin’ loser,” Malevola said, sitting back down.
Robert turned to Golem and said, “Thanks. You saved my life.”
“Yup,” Golem responded. “Thanks for the drink.”
“So, um,” Robert looked at the rest of his team. “I expected to be burnt to a crisp by now, and I didn’t plan any of this next part… um, anybody else got something to say?”
“Um,” Invisigal spoke up. “My name’s Courtney.”
“Nice to meet you Courtney,” Robert said.
“Herm,” Waterboy added. “Sometimes Herman. Or Hermy. But my grandma calls me Herm, so, Herm…”
“My name’s Victor,” Sonar said. He pounded the table with his fists, “Cause I’m a fuckin’ winner.”
“I’m Alice,” Prism said.
“Bruno,” Golem rumbled.
“Malevola,” Malevola said. “My last name’s Gibb.”
“My name’s Colm,” Punch Up added.
After a moment, Invisigal said, “Sooo, what now? Orgy time?”
“Right,” Robert smiled and held up a sauce packet. “Mega Fuego sauce and ass play sounds like a great combo.”
Malevola snatched the sauce packet from his hand and he locked eyes with her. She tore it open with her teeth and held up a burrito, her tail wrapped around it three times. She drizzled sauce on the tip and shoved as much as she could into her mouth, never breaking eye contact.
***