Chapter Text
When Herman was 7, Mecha Man saved his life.
He'd like to think the incident wasn't entirely his fault, but thinking like that would make him a liar. It happened when he was just a kid, before he had begun to learn how to control his powers, before Shroud had taught him how.
His dad was at some boring news event. It shouldn't have been a surprise, his dad was always at boring news events, but this time he’d actually brought Herman along. The city was unveiling a new park, and Dad had promised that he could play while he dealt with interviews.
A bunch of other people had brought their kids as well. Dad had mentioned something about using them to ‘make the city look good’, but Herman didn’t care as long as they were nice.
They welcomed him at first, excited to have another playmate, until they realized what his powers were. They complained about how he made the playground wet, causing kids to slip and fall. They complained about how he littered the sand with puddles of mud, and they kept stepping in them.
So he backed off.
He got it, really. No one wanted to play with the kid who made everything worse.
Herman resigned himself to another day by himself and headed for the swing set. No one was over there, so he wouldn’t be a bother. He sat down, his pants squishing with residual water, and gently swung his feet as he watched the other kids get back into their game.
If he closed his eyes and listened to their shrieks of delight, he could almost pretend he was still over there with them.
“Hey.” Herman jumped, opening his eyes to see another boy his age. He was wearing a Brave Brigade t–shirt and had bandages on both of his knees.
“H–Hi..?” Herman’s hands tightened around the swing’s chains.
“Can I sit there?” They boy asked, pointing to the swing next to him.
Herman quickly nodded. “Y–Yeah! I’m not– You can have it!”
The boy smiled at him and sat down. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence quickly built up between the two of them and Herman wasn’t sure how to break it. He’d always been terrible at this, at talking to other people his age. Or, well, other people in general. Their next door neighbor, Mrs. Thompson, still gave him the stink eye wherever she saw him. All he’d done was suggest writing up a will if she hadn’t already! It was important!
“...Why are you over here alone?” The boy eventually asked, making Herman flinch.
He hunched in on himself, his head hanging as he stared down at the puddle of wet sand that had already gathered beneath him. “The other kids– I–I was making it unsafe. For them to–to play. I was getting everything wet– moist, like I always do. And– And I don’t blame them–”
“That’s dumb.” The boy cut off his rambling with a shrug, like it was that simple. “Sounds like their loss.”
Herman looked at him with wide eyes. “Wh–What–? But I–”
The boy shoved a hand into his pocket and then held up a baseball with a grin. “I don’t really wanna stay around here anyway. Let’s go play catch.”
“C–Catch–? Me? Are– Are you sure?” Herman stuttered out, hardly believing his ears.
The boy nodded. “Yeah, c’mon. It’ll be fun!”
Before Herman knew what was happening, a hand was grabbing his own and pulling him to his feet. His shoes sunk into the mud, making him cringe, but he was quickly stepping out of it as he was led over to a grassy area next to the park.
“Here we go.” The boy dropped Herman’s hand to gesture at it. “Perfect for us.”
“It’s, um.” Herman fidgeted in place. “N-Nice..?”
The boy stepped back a little and held up the baseball. “Ready?”
“Wait! I–I don’t–!” Herman yelped as the ball sailed towards him. He shoved his hands out and turned his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The ball hit his palms and he instinctively latched onto it.
A laugh sounded from a few feet away. “Hey, nice catch!”
Herman slowly cracked his eyes open and looked down, gasping in delight as he saw the ball there, cradled in his slender fingers. “I–I– did– I caught it!!”
The boy’s smile grew. “Alright, now toss it back!”
Playing catch was… fun. The other boy was full of energy and encouragement, and he didn’t even get mad if Herman dropped the ball or missed his throw.
“Here!” Herman said, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling. “Go– Go long!”
The boy nodded and took a few more steps back. A determined look crossed his face.
As soon as the ball left Herman’s fingertips, he knew something was going to go wrong. The ball had become slick with water from how many times he'd caught it. As he let it fly, it slipped from his hand and went sailing way past where the other boy was standing, heading down the hill towards the road.
The boy watched it fly over his head, looking impressed. “Wow. Nice throw, man!”
But Herman didn’t hear him over the sudden static in his ears. He immediately started scrambling after the ball. “Don’t– Don’t worry! I got– I’ll get it!”
His new friend had already been so nice, he couldn’t make him be the one to run after it. It was his own fault! The other boy hadn’t even complained about his powers once! Not when he’d grabbed his hand, or when they’d been playing catch. It was the least he could do!
The ball had thankfully landed on the sidewalk instead of the road, so he didn’t have to worry about getting help from an adult to get it back. His Dad had always drilled it into him to stay away from roads because of how dangerous they were, and he usually listened, but it wasn’t like he was actually going on it, just next to it. Besides, if he didn’t get the ball back, he couldn’t keep playing with his new friend.
Herman grinned as he spotted it, fast approaching, but suddenly realized he was coming in too hot. His smile dropped off his face as he tried to put on the brakes and stop himself, but his slippery, wet shoes couldn’t find any purchase on the concrete. He skidded past the ball and went over the curb, tumbling and falling flat on his face.
Tears instantly sprung to his eyes as his arms and legs began to sting like hell. He shakily raised one to see marks all down his forearm, stuck with little pieces of asphalt and bleeding.
“Hey!” Herman looked over in a daze. The other boy had chased after him and was watching from the side of the road. He looked… concerned? “You gotta get up, c’mon!”
It took Herman a moment to process what he was saying, but when it finally clicked, he began to try to sit up. He had only gotten a single hand underneath himself, when the boy began shouting.
Herman lifted his head, squinting as he was greeted by something big and shiny headed straight for him. It quickly got closer and closer, and Herman barely had the time to think ‘oh, I’m about to be hit by a car’ before–
Suddenly, he was cradled in two large, metallic hands. He gasped, struggling to breathe as adrenaline crashed through his body. Herman shakily looked up to see Mecha Man staring back, his visor shining a soft blue light onto his face. They were flying in the air, and Herman would’ve been ecstatic if it hadn’t just been one of the worst days of his life.
Mecha Man laughed, the sound ringing a little flat. “You’ve got to be more careful than that, son. What would your parents think?”
Herman trembled in his grip, his tears finally spilling as Mecha Man landed back on the ground. They were instantly surrounded by the crowd of reporters from the park opening, all trying to shove their microphones into his face. Herman shoved his hands over his ears, trying to block them out, and curled into a ball. He shook with sobs as Mecha Man answered questions dutifully.
After that day, Herman never saw the boy from the park again.
That was the first and last time anyone had ever talked to Herman without teasing him about his powers. It was the final lesson that cemented what his dad had been saying his entire life. He was never going to get anywhere if he couldn’t get his powers under control.
— — —
When Herman was 17, he watched the light leave Mecha Man’s eyes as he choked to death on his own blood.
It was when he'd still been fresh, before he was a cold blooded killer, before he’d been sucked deep into a life of darkness with no hope of return.
When he’d naively thought that Shroud’s help would come without any strings attached.
Herman stood as still as he could as the light flicked on. Across the room, Mecha Man stood there, holding a plastic bag as his keys dangled from his fingers. His eyes widened, taking in Herman and the man standing next to him.
“Eli.” Mecha Man growled, immediately going on the defensive. His eyes flickered around the room, searching for any other dangers.
“It’s Shroud, Robbie.” The villain’s voice carried throughout the room, metallic and smooth. “You should know that by now. It’s been what? Six years at this point?”
“Why are you here?” Mecha Man spat, his fists clenching. “How’d you get into my house?”
Herman could tell that Shroud was grinning under his mask. “Did you really think I couldn’t? The only thing that protects you is your identity, and I know everything.” Shroud bragged. “You should be more grateful that I chose today. Who knows what would’ve happened if your boy was here instead of at his friend’s for that sleepover?”
“You son of a bitch.” Mecha Man spat, taking a step forward. “You leave him out of this.“ His eyes darted over to Herman. “Couldn’t face me alone, huh? Scared to go for round two?”
Herman resists the urge to flinch under Mecha Man’s glare. He couldn’t show weakness, not now. Shroud hated when he showed any signs of it, no matter how small.
“I forgot you two haven’t been formally introduced.” Shroud placed a hand on Herman’s shoulder, making him tense. “This is Flood, my new second in command. I wanted him to be here, to see this momentous occasion.”
“What, me kicking your ass?” Mecha Man tried to project confidence, but even Herman could tell that he was nervous.
Shroud shook his head condescendingly. “No, Robbie.” He slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. The gun.
“What the hell is that?” Mecha Man snapped, his eyes flicking between Shroud and the weapon.
“You mean you don’t recognize it?” Shroud asked with the tilt of his head. “It is yours, after all.”
“Stop fucking around!” Mecha Man snarled, taking a step forward. “I’m not interested in all your bullshit, Eli. I knew you weren’t cut out for the Brave Brigade. Everyone else was blinded but I knew that you could never–“
Shroud was suddenly standing in front of Mecha Man, the gun leveled at his head. Herman hadn’t even seen him move.
“Shut up.” Shroud’s voice was eerily calm, but Herman knew from experience that he was barely containing the rage that simmered under his skin.
Mecha Man barked out a laugh, his face twitching, betraying his fear.
“What, strike a nerve? Why are you here anyway?” A wry yet slightly strained grin stretched across his face. “Looking for the Astral Pulse? I thought you might come for it–“
“No.” Shroud clicked the safety off. “I’m here for you.”
The gunshot echoed through the room. Red sprayed from Mecha Man’s neck, arching through the air. It splattered across Shroud, decorating him with the grim reality of what he'd just done.
Mecha Man choked, blood bubbling past his lips as the bag he was holding fell to the ground, spilling the items inside. He shakily raised a hand to his neck, his fingers loosely grasping at nothing as they were coating in his own blood.
Herman watched as Mecha Man slumped to the ground, tiny, wheezing breaths coming from the man. He felt like he was going to be sick.
“Flood.” Herman snapped to attention, trying to keep his breathing under control. When Shroud wanted you, you didn’t ignore him.
“Yes, sir..?” Herman asked hesitantly.
“Come here.”
Herman scurried over to him, pointedly keeping his eyes off of the dying hero. He stopped at Shroud’s side, staying one step behind him.
Shroud turned to him and grabbed his arm, gently pushing the gun into his hand and curling his fingers around it.
Herman stared down at the gun, a lump forming in his throat. “What–! Sir, I don’t–”
“You know how to use it.” Shroud cut him off, his voice loud in the silence of the room.
Herman couldn’t stop the choked gasp that slipped through his lips as he realized what Shroud wanted. “No– No I don’t– Please.”
“You’re stuttering again.” Shroud chastised, his words devoid of any kind of emotion. “We’ll have to work on that later.”
Herman’s shoulder started to shake and to his horror, he could feel tears in the corners of his eyes. “Please. Please…”
Shroud sighed, like he was a disappointed parent. “It’s alright. I’ll help you.”
Herman could barely breathe as Shroud stepped up next to him, covering his hand with his own. He placed his finger over Herman’s on the trigger and slowly moved their arms to point it down at Mecha Man’s heart.
“Remember this feeling. You'll be used to it soon.”
Herman jolted as the shot went off, the recoil reverberating up his arm and through the rest of his body. The bullet sunk into the hero’s chest, spraying more red into the air. Some of it got on Herman’s pants. He began to softly cry.
Shroud pulled the trigger again and again. Mecha Man barely made a sound, each shot punctuated by a tiny twitch of the hero’s body.
Four more rounds went off and Shroud stepped back, relieving Herman of the gun. He stood there in silence, waiting.
Herman couldn’t move. He could do nothing but stare at Mecha Man, and his vacant, glossy eyes.
— — —
When Herman was 27, Shroud declared that they were finally taking back the Astral Pulse. They were going to kill Mecha Man.
Again.