Another successful day with minimal struggle. Robert has been keeping a keen eye out on everyone today, and Sonar's performance out there was pretty exceptional.
Keeping a level head, kicking ass both physically and intellectually, keeping decently away from the drugs. Addiction is a beast to kick and he knows how bad it can get sometimes, Robert could never blame someone for that struggle.
As long as an effort is being made and he can see that, it's all Robert really asks for.
Today's rather smooth, almost suspiciously smooth, shift was worth commending. It gave him enough time to scribble something out, it kept him headache free, and his joints don't even ache all too much today.
Overall pretty decent fucking shift, hell yes.
So Robert makes his way over to where Sonar was headed to, eyes on the cameras to find the quickest route over, and he's leaned up against the wall of the break room when the other arrives.
"You did pretty well out there today." He muses, holding out the folded piece of paper.
On occasion when Robert gets bored enough on shift, he'll scribble on some sticky notes. Add in another form of bribe to the team for encouragement or a smooth shift on top of what he's already trying to do. Keeps his hands busy too.
"If you guys can last a work week without getting written up, I'll go to the bar with you. How does that sound?"
It was a bit desperate. But so far, it seems like he'll have some social obligations by the end of the week. Dear God.
Right now though, someone has been busting their ass, doing a rather excellent job out on the field. Back to back success, far exceeding Robert's own expectations for once. And that effort certainly deserves a little recognition, he surmises.
He knows exactly where Flambae is headed towards after that last call, already waiting by the door, weight mostly on his right as he's leaned up against the door frame. Something is held between his pointer finger and his middle, a small square piece of paper. Sticky note, most likely.
In all honesty, he had half a mind to just shove it into Flambae's locker and leave, but it seemed important to do this in person. Something about connections.
He also knows this will cause more posturing and peacocking and a huge ass ego boost, but if this gets people to lock the fuck in even more, fuck it. Sure why not. He's doing anything to make his and everyone's lives easier here.
"Hey. Good work out there." Robert says, in that annoying soft, steady voice. That paper is held out, though he's ready to snatch it back the moment his little olive branch is rejected.
"Keep it up. Your current count by the way, if you're interested, is 376 people saved. I've sent you money for your one free drink by the way."
See if that gets him to lock in even more. Robert has been testing the waters on what works for everyone, slowly but surely. Like a little science project. Data collection.
The praise he gives her makes her chest feel all warm and she inwardly kicks herself for it. It's so stupid to get so fuzzy feeling over a fucking compliment from him, but she's trying to be good, and it feels....nice to have that actually noticed.
Especially by him.
She doesn't give a shit what anyone else thinks as long as he is the one who thinks this of her.
At first, Visi's eyes narrow at him like she's trying to figure him out. What the hell is he holding out to her? She blinks, looking between his face and then back down to the note.
Then, carefully, she steps forward to take the note from him to peer down at it. Wait a fucking minute.....when did he figure out that she likes Raccoons?
"Damn. Are you, like, stalking me? Am I getting beaten at my own game?" Regardless of her snarky response, the look in her eyes says everything. The way she looks at him in shock before quickly looking away and back to the yellow sticky note in her grip.
And maybe she laughs. It's a barely there laugh, so she'll deny it if he points it out, but.....the raccoon is kind of cute. "You drew this? Huh. It's cute. I.....thanks, nerd."
When the team is doing good, Robert is doing good. When others are happy, well, he'll be happy too, or at least try to. Even if it's a struggle sometimes.
Praise and encouragement falls easily from his lips, they all could hear it a bit more, especially when they're not irritating him, or purposefully making life difficult. Regardless....
He's patient as she takes her time to grab the sticky note, eyeing him and it like she wasn't sure what the fuck to do with a small gesture.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." He says, cryptically as he's already turning to leave.
He most definitely is stalking everyone on their socials. It's his way of keeping tabs on them, making sure they're all doing alright, even if it's on the sidelines. Would he ever give everyone his? Most likely not, his instagram reserved for his own type of nerd or depressive vents. Plus, wouldn't it be a little weird...?
"I get bored sometimes too, keeps my hands busy." He says, like it's not a big deal. An easy task, honestly. He glances at her from the corner of his eye, nodding as he makes his way back out.
"You're welcome. Stay safe and good luck out there."
"Hey Visi. Impressive work out there." Robert says, when he catches her in the break room. He's leaning against the door frame, half out of the aches in his joints, trying to alleviate them for the moment.
He's holding something between the pointer finger and middle finger of his right hand, something small, something yellow.
It's something he scribbled down while dispatching, with the shitty little pens he has by his desk.
Could be time to invest in something more if this works.
This place was their regular, meeting up every Sunday without fail, unless if someone was dying of sickness or something came up last minute that involved work. It was Rocky's idea, figuring that meeting every week would both get Ryland out of the house and among society and to also keep up with his best friend.
Ryland sits at his usual outside table, his nose in a book he brought while he waits for Rocky and Adrian to arrive. They messaged him earlier, informing him that they were going to be a little late, but they at least gave him an exact time they'd arrive.
He doesn't mind, it let him catch up on his reading.
A teapot is set on the counter next to him, the waitress smiling sweetly at him. She knows who he was, he'd been coming here long enough to be recognized as a regular and there's not too many teahouses in Torrance left, which certainly makes this one incredibly popular, not just for the fact that it's been open and owned by the same family for generations.
"Thank you." Ryland tells her with a smile; she nods and scurries back inside the building with a little pep to her step. Once she's out of sight, his gaze lowers back to the pages; they still smell new, even though he's read through this particular novel numerous times, even with the edges of the paper fraying and the spine bent.
The weather is really nice today too; a cold wind blows in from the ocean, cooling off the usually terrible heat circulating through the city. He loves it; it usually means that Rocky will want to continue the hangout long after lunch has ended, probably try and convince Ryland to go shopping and sneakily purchase things that he needs. "Rocky has great well-paying job." He'll say. "Let Rocky buy friend Grace things."
Sundays are rest days, before going back into the war that is wrangling the collective circus and monkeys that he has taken a liking to. A last moment of peace before he has to fight for his life, and honestly Robert doesn't mind entirely too much though.
Beef is at his side, unleashed, but alert to Robert's commands in a pinch. It was a quiet enough that he didn't really have to worry, and they can both walk their own pace without losing track of each other. That breeze certainly is pleasant, and if he doesn't get too tired too fast, he'd like to walk by the sea. It's been a while, after all.
The faint smell of tea catches his attention, looking up from his thoughts to spot the teahouse nearby. Would they have tieguanyin? Been a while since he had that loose leaf, plus he doesn't really get a chance to all that often....
Before he could really make his mind up though, Beef is already running along on his stubby legs to beg for the attention of the man half buried in a book. Whining and pawing at Ryland's leg.
Robert sighs softly, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he picks up his pace slightly to catch up.
"I'm sorry about him, he usually doesn't go too out of his way for people." Robert says once he's close enough. Usually that's reserved for people who need an emergency pep talk.
basically i'm still working and on hiatus and i'm exhausted but i'm also reading books and uhhh. yeah. have some angsty but spicy memes!! basically memes that involve protectiveness and angst and just. a real chance to explore softness and all the emotions. to reverse the roles, just add a + to the end!
[ DROP ] : sender unexpectedly collapses in front of receiver, having suddenly received a serious wound.
[ CARRY ] : having seen the receiver fall to the ground, badly wounded, sender proceeds to scoop them up and carry them to safety.
[ CRADLE ] : sender cradles the injured receiver in their arms as they head for safety.
[ PERSEVERE ] : sender, having received a particularly bad wound, tells receiver they're fine, but ends up collapsing later on.
[ RED ] : having witnessed the receiver get hurt by someone, the sender kills their assailant out of RAGE.
[ PROTECT ] : having witnessed the receiver get hurt by someone, the sender kills their assailant in order to PROTECT them.
[ CHECK-IN ] : after receiver has recovered from their wounds, sender visits them in their sickbed to make sure they're okay.
[les misérables]
you love with a loyalty that borders on worship, even when it isn’t reciprocated. you throw yourself into others’ light, content to burn if it means being near them. you’re self-aware, cynical, but your heart is stubborn, it believes even when your mind doubts. your love story is about yearning, about staying when you shouldn’t, about finding meaning in someone who may never truly see you.
For any empaths or people particularly sensitive to vibes or energy....
Robert has this crippling ache in his heart, a longing for something he tells himself will never actually get. Underneath the calm and supportive exterior lies something like a wound that will never heal.
He's both full of rage and full of grief, being in the same room as him for long periods of time can be uncomfortable to the sensitive type of people.
Another night, another call. This time, Robert was tipped off to an illegal weapons warehouse, one of the local gangs expecting to make a decent amount of money exchanging goods.
Seems simple enough, he knows the location, he knows the area well.
These days, on these types of nights, he doesn't prepare too much, choosing only to wear one of his darker hoodies, sweatpants, and a face mask.
And it's not like he wasn't armed, his calibrations on his prosthetics tuned carefully to an 80% power output. Enough to hurt, enough to take out some people non-lethally, enough to prevent over exertion on his body.
Besides, if things do get a little messy, he could always overclock. High risk, high reward, mainly due to the fact that it will most definitely hurt him just as much as it would others. The little 'hail mary' is worth it though, he can't really complain in a tight situation.
Robert glances up at the chain link fence, tilting his head a bit to double check if the coast was clear before scaling the barrier.
He lands quietly, dashing over to the wall of the warehouse, back against as he checks his surroundings again. The network is easy to find and connect to, the moment he catches a camera, he breaches it with ease.
Simple task, clear his image, splice the footage of the last five minutes. Whoever is keeping an eye on the security cameras will be oblivious to the fact for a few, especially since it's late at night.
With full access to the camera network, he can easily tag the 20 people and keep track of them, 15 normies, 5 meta. He's had worse odds, and if he plays it carefully enough, it should be fine.
First hallway, three people. He's up in the vents, biding his time amongst the flickering lights. Confirmed normal humans, he waits, he counts.
3. 2. 1.
He short-circuits their weapons, dropping on top of them in the midst of the sparks. Kicking one in the back of the head on his way down takes them out and he swings heavily with his left, aiming for the head of the nearest one standing. The last one scrambles, tossing their weapon away before trying to get to Robert, throwing a messy, uncoordinated punch.
Idiot.
He pivots, blocking with his left knee and using his momentum for a high roundhouse, knocking them down for the moment.
3/15
Alright. He makes sure to zip tie them, easier clean up for the law enforcement later. He just needs a moment to catch his breath, stretching out his back for a moment before putting his foot up on the wall, climbing back up to the rafters.
Next target.
Robert takes some more scouts out, catching them in the dark corners of their route, sneaking up behind and wrapping his arm around their necks. He covers their mouths with practiced ease, squeezing his arm tighter as their hands struggle to pry him off. Their fingertips meet warm steel, their frantic efforts to escape proven useless as they eventually give in to unconsciousness.
Again he cleans up, sticks their bodies into the shadows, disarmed and tied. Precision, efficiency, not a single action is wasted energy here.
If an onlooker were to watch, would they still think he was human?
He takes a moment, eyes on the cams briefly to make sure no one was around before he sighs, hands in his pockets as he looks down on the limp bodies. Still alive. Still breathing.
And so is he.
8/15
The knife he's installed into his left arm is out, coated in a special mix of tranquilizers for the metas left. He's not a total idiot, Robert knows in a fair fight, he'd probably fold like a dilapidated lawn chair to most of them. It's why he fights as dirty as he does.
Fight or die, and he does not want to die again.
By now, the rest of them have been alerted to his little rampage, either trying to communicate and being met with silence, or stumbling upon one of the unconscious bodies he's left behind. It doesn't matter.
What matters now, is that he plays this smart. They've divided themselves into two groups of two and one group of three, how cute. Manageable, definitely.
Especially if he plays with the lights, plunging the entire building into darkness. Quickly he moves now, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, assisted by his left eye switching to night vision and the cameras as well, flipping through them to find his next target group.
A glint of a blade, a nick of skin, a cry of surprise, an easy take down.
Quick, clean, simple.
12/15
He can tell he's starting to run out of steam, his joints are starting to ache, and with the strength output kept at the level it was, he's bound to be sore tomorrow. Maybe he should be asking for backup. Maybe he should ask someone on the team to help with his endurance.
That's an 'eventually' problem for now though, he has eyes on the last three.
Robert licks his dry lips, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he crept silently closer, waiting for the group to get to a tighter hallway.
They're agitated, they're scared. They know that ghost hacker or whatever was coming for them now. And a small part of Robert is amused. Really, choosing now to be afraid?
There's overhead speakers, and they crackle to life.
"You can still run. If you get down on your knees, I'll even make it painless for you three. How does that sound?" Robert says, his voice still modulated, scaring the shit out of the remaining goons.
He has to hold back a chuckle, watching them from the corner of his vantage point as they panic. Easier targets, easier to take them down. Under the cover of darkness, he rushes them, left leg out to kick the back of the knees of the closest one, taking them out with a firm punch to the back of the head as he ducks just in time from the swing of the next guy.
Hm, some sort of cat hybrid, their claws were out and yellow glowing eyes were meeting his.
Just in time, Robert brings up his left arm to block the next claw strike, bone against steel as a few sparks fly. The cat let out a surprised sound, and before they get the chance for another swing, he lunges to grab their throat, left leg kicking back to knock them off their feet and slamming them to the ground with a thud. They struggle a bit longer, but he simply slams them once more by the throat. Ruthless, but merciful.
The last person before him trembles, shaking like a leaf. Even as he stands in the dim light, he can't help but feel that twinge of pity. Maybe if this person made better choices, or had a better hand dealt to them, they wouldn't be in this position. He simply holds out the zip ties, gesturing them silently to get down while they have the chance. And for once, they do.
Makes his job easier, especially since he can feel it in his bones that he's done for the night.
Only thing left now is to alert the cops.
[10-20 -location- 10-78]
Robert sighs, checking his arm as he makes his way out, climbing up and out of the sky light above, watching is sirens and police lights start coming through in the distance. He has about....3 minutes?
That's enough time. He snaps his fingers, all the lights coming back on and pointing in the direction of all the neutralized goons, tied up and disarmed. Like a gift to the law enforcement.
All the camera footage was restored, only having redacted and edited himself out, like the weird freaky ghost they keep calling him.
Later on, when he's home, the radio reports the scene, something about the officers assuming it's the 'ghost' or 'ghosts' helping to keep the streets safer for the rest of the city, but Robert doesn't really pay much attention these days.
"Beef, do you think they'd be surprised if they ever find out it was just a guy who did that?" Robert asks, leaning down to give his beloved dog a scratch on the head.
And as always, Beef does not care, simply basking in the long delayed affection and attention of Robert.
Robert is the type to get sick and insist he still comes in to work.
He'll sanitize the shit out of his area and make sure he's masked up, but the only time he'll ever call out is if it's debilitating enough that he can't walk.
So yeah, the team will hear him coughing and stuffed up but by god, will he still bust his ass making sure everyone is doing well.
Robert has had a few 'worst' days of his life, comes with the territory of what he does. A cost that he accepts with little more than a shrug.
It'll happen, it has happened, it'll keep happening.
So, technically, one of the top worst days of his life would be waking up from the 8 month long coma, having to take a few more months to recover enough to even walk and talk. Thanks to advanced medical care, it was almost a miracle he even woke up, much less recovered as well as he did.
When he was finally able to walk longer distances without being winded, he practically fled the hospital in the middle of the night.
Little irresponsible, thank god he knows most of the drill at this point though, the bill will be covered by him going missing, no one will look for him, and if he did need to know a few details about his situation, it's not like he couldn't hack his way in and figure it out.
