A few hours after the confrontation that had taken place at the SDN's Torrance branch.
One of the… heroines… who'd ended up injured began to return, little by little, from the distant place where the sedatives administered in the ambulance had dragged her.
Thanks to the murmur of two voices—familiar, yet far away, as if speaking from behind a thick pane of glass.
"...I'm not comfortable with this, brotha… Why can't we wait until she wakes up?"
One of them carried an unmistakable accent, heavy even in a whisper.
And the moment the second voice came through—a rough, exhausted voice, the kind dragged down by too many sleepless nights…
"You heard the surgeon. They can handle it, as long as you give them the adjustments before the operation. I know it's gonna be a lot of work, but… I wouldn't trust anyone else with something… like this."
It was enough to make her sedated heart stumble over a beat.
After a brief pause—followed by what sounded like a fist-bump—the first voice responded, resigned. "I can't say no to the Man-Mecha…"
The tired voice replied immediately: "Thanks… Lift her gown and let's get this over with."
'What!?' she screamed internally. Her lips, her eyes, her body still refused to respond—but not her shock.
And she wasn't the only one.
"You're kidding… right? After that kiss, I figured you two were already… you know." the deep voice inquired.
"We're just getting started… which is why I don't think it's appropriate," added the worn-out voice, lowering his tone before admitting, grudgingly, "Though I've practically seen her naked already…"
After hearing that, the deep voice huffed: "I know you two got some weird energy going on, but… she's shown you those already? What'd she do, just lift her shirt and flash you like it's nothing?"
"Hmm…" Unsure of what to answer, the tired voice managed only: "More or less."
Meanwhile, the supposedly sedated exhibitionist was dying of embarrassment, remembering that moment of naked honesty she had shared with him in the SDN locker room.
"…" After a glance that needed no words, he had no alternative. "Fine…"
And then she felt it.
First, someone adjusting a blanket over her legs, pulling it up until it covered her from the waist down.
Then something far more intimate:
Rough hands—the same ones she had fantasized about—barely grazing the curve of her hip as they lifted her hospital gown with a trembling, careful touch.
The fabric rose slowly, revealing her stomach… her abdomen… her ribs, until stopping just shy of her breasts.
"Is that enough?" His voice—his voice—came out steady, but not fully controlled.
"…" At the silence of his accomplice, Robert turned toward him, irritated. "What's wrong? Just run the scan alrea—"
Only to cut himself short when he saw Royd hide the machine behind his massive back and, with his free hand, point at the stretcher as if he were seeing a ghost.
Robert followed the direction of his finger until he found himself staring into a pair of wide-open eyes. Hazel pupils tightened to pinpoints, fixed on him while his hands were on her chest, her torso exposed.
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the steady beeping of the monitors and the slow drip of the IV lines.
Robert shut his eyes for a second and exhaled long—the kind of sigh a man makes when he knows his life just got complicated in ten different ways.
"I know this looks bad…" he murmured, raising his hands slowly, as if releasing a hostage. "But… I swear it's not what it looks like."
If it had been any other situation—if they had been alone, without injuries, without dried blood on her skin, without Royd standing there holding what very clearly looked like a camera, or something worse—
Maybe she would have smiled.Maybe she would have thrown a daring joke.
But not this time.
Courtney gritted her teeth. Pure instinct—she clenched her fist and swung at the first face she could reach.
The mistake came the instant she tried to move her injured shoulder, which screamed in pain. Its echo shot through her body like an electric sting, scattering the punch mid-air.
It forced her to wince and bring her other hand to the wounded area with a strangled gasp.
The pain barely eased... and then it vanished almost as suddenly as it had hit. Not by magic, or by her hand trying to soothe the injury… but because of him.
"Ahmm…" Robert breathed, moving toward her without thinking. His hands—the same ones that had looked guilty seconds before—now held her with firm gentleness. "You idiot… Don't move your injured arm."
His voice, that blend of warmth and awkwardness that had snared her, faltered slightly as the corners of his mouth lifted.
"After you saved my life… you'll have plenty of time to hit me all you want."
And there, between machines, her gown still pulled up, humiliation prickling under her skin… the only thing she felt or saw was the way he looked at her— as if she were his heroine.
"…"
Thinking he might… be in the way, Royd cleared his throat and muttered under his breath:
"Hmm… guys… you want me to leave you two alone?"
That casual remark snapped Robert back to reality, and he slowly let her go."Okay… let's take this step by step. First things first: your injury."
At the mention of it—at the feeling of him pulling away—Courtney clenched her jaw as the pain, sharp and precise, flooded her shoulder again, as if it had been waiting for that moment to return.
Royd continued in the most professional tone a two-meter giant could muster.
"The bullet went in clean… but the impact didn't." He gestured broadly toward the bandaged area. "It fractured your scapula along the upper edge. That created several bone fragments. One of them, the largest, is pressing on the brachial plexus."
Courtney frowned.
"Am I supposed to understand that?"
Robert turned toward him as well, forming half a smile.
"Royd, no offense, but I understood the surgeon better than you."
Royd let out an exasperated sigh.
"I'm talking about the bundle of nerves that lets you move your arm. That's why they have to operate. They need to remove the fragments and stabilize the bone before there's permanent damage."
Courtney inhaled slowly.
"Okay… that I get," she said quietly, then shook her head. "What I don't get is: what the hell were you two doing with a camera while I was half-naked?"
Both of them tensed at the same time. Robert, acting on instinct, tried to clarify a detail—realizing too late he was only digging himself deeper.
"You weren't half-naked… I'd say I was exposing about the same amount you show in your 'uniform' at work."
Catching the hidden tone in his voice, Courtney let out a growl."What's wrong with my uniform? Huh?"
"Where do I start?"
Before Robert could begin listing things… Royd lifted the device, steering the conversation back before it turned into either an argument or… something else between them.
"This isn't a camera," he corrected, puffing out his massive chest with pride. "It's a portable scanner. I designed it myself."
"And what the hell do you even want a scanner for?"
Robert was the one who answered, blunt as ever.
"It's for your lung implant."
Courtney blinked, a sting of fear pricking at her.
"What's wrong with it?"
Robert didn't look away. "Even if Shroud is… dead. You said it yourself—the thing stopped working the moment you quit on him, didn't it? Who knows if he hid something else in there, and honestly… I don't want to find out."
He stepped toward the examination table, his tone hardening beneath a worry he didn't bother to hide.
"That's why I asked Royd for help."
The enormous man in question nodded. "We talked to the surgeon, and he said that as long as I have it ready before the operation, he can swap it during the procedure."
She hesitated.
It was too much to take in: her surgery… the very real danger lurking inside her prosthesis… the confirmation that Shroud was dead… and that he'd been "dealt with" by the same person who made her heart "stumble"…
The same one who cleared away any lingering shadow or doubt when he added, "Besides, when I see you naked again… Shroud is the last person I want creeping into my head."
Courtney blinked, startled to see unshakeable Robert—the man who could meet any gaze while saying the filthiest things without missing a beat—look away and scratch the back of his neck as he spoke.
And when she understood why…
A wave of heat rushed through her chest and flushed her face as she imagined their "next time," blushing just as much now that they had stopped fooling around and were truly… a couple.
Royd, who had been trying his best to stay professional, blinked as he realized he would be, quite literally, taking Shroud's place. The revelation made him look at Robert with a blend of surprise and amusement before blurting:
"Brotha… I don't even know what to say. You picking me for something this intimate… I'm honored, man."
Before Robert could reply, Courtney did it for him, lifting one corner of her mouth in a shameless grin. "I'm sure you are, big guy."
Royd's smile collapsed instantly, while the one on the… couple's… faces only grew.
Robert pulled himself together with another weary sigh.
"Alright, let's get this over with. Courtney, show us your prosthesis… and Royd, scan it already so you can start working."
—
Once they finished, Royd didn't waste a second. He half-mumbled a goodbye, said something about "processing the data," and slipped out of the room, the metallic echo of the door trailing behind him.
Leaving Robert and Courtney finally alone.
There were so many things they wanted to ask each other, but instead… the room filled with a dense, heavy silence.
Until, at the exact same moment...
"How–?""Does it hu–?"
They both spoke at once.
This time Robert was the one who followed through, lowering himself into one of the chairs beside her hospital bed. "What were you gonna say?"
"…" Courtney hesitated. She lowered her gaze. "About what Shroud said… he was talking shit. I never had any mission to get close to you."
Robert raised his eyebrows just a fraction. "I know."
She frowned again, this time almost annoyed. "Why?"
"Why what?" he asked, as if he truly didn't understand her.
"Why did you trust me?" Her voice wasn't her usual one, no bite, no irony. It was fragile. "Back in Royd's workshop. When everything pointed the other way. When it looked like I… Why did you let me go? Why did you believe me?"
Robert hunched forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, studying her. He hadn't expected that question. Or that tone.
"You were right," he murmured. "I don't have powers. And it was a dangerous situation… but what does that matter now?"
"It matters," she shot back, pinning him in place with her stare.
Robert sighed, tilting his head slightly. "You taking something this seriously… that's not very you."
"Robert!" she insisted.
"…Alright." Understanding that this was important to her, he was honest. "It was a leap of faith. I couldn't know the truth. I just… wanted to trust that the time we spent together hadn't been a lie."
She didn't know what to say to that, or whether it was what she wanted to hear… until he added, with a faint smile:
"And because the Sour Patch from our first date were amazing."
Courtney stared at him, first confused… then surprised… and finally a soft laugh escaped before she could stop it.
"You're an idiot… and it wasn't a date."
With a strange kind of pride—as if he'd defused a bomb or nailed the right answer to a crucial test, Robert replied:
"It got us here, didn't it?"
Yet the tender moment shattered in an instant when Courtney tried to sit up abruptly.
Robert reacted immediately, springing to his feet.
"Hey—wait. What are you doing?"
She ignored him completely. She gritted her teeth and, with a clumsy but determined motion, tore the IV line out of her arm. A thin trail of blood slid down her forearm, but she didn't so much as glance at it.
She only stopped when Robert caught her firmly, keeping her from getting all the way up.
"…" They stared at each other. "…" Any trace of the tenderness from moments ago was gone.
Courtney, aware he wasn't going to let her go, finally spoke:
"There's something else… something I haven't told you."
'Now what?' was Robert's first thought. Even so, he kept his expression as neutral as possible while slowly removing his hands from her shoulders.
"Courtney… what's going on?"
She didn't answer immediately. She drew in a deep breath, as if she needed to gather herself.
"I told you I started working for Shroud to pay for my implant."
Robert nodded, waiting.
"That's true. But… that's not how I first met him." A brief shadow crossed her eyes. "Before that… when he took control of the city's Underworld… I was forced to do a job for him."
Robert didn't even blink. He simply asked:
"Why?"
Courtney closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly. "He had information he was using to blackmail someone I… care about."
Robert felt as though he'd swallowed a stone the moment he grasped the implications of her… words. It made him look away for just a second—just long enough to betray him.
Courtney noticed the shift and her expression soured, though she said nothing.
"And now that someone else took him out," she went on, "every surviving member of the Red Ring… and God knows who else… is going to want every piece of crap he left behind. The weapons he invented, the fortune he made selling his prosthetics… everything."
Robert frowned. "And you're planning to… find it yourself? On your own, injured, just like that?"
Courtney finally held his gaze without flinching.
"Shroud had a lair."
Robert blinked. "…Is that supposed to surprise me? He was a villain; that's what they do."
"I know where it is." Her voice tightened. "Or at least I know where the entrance is. I followed him for days using my powers. That's our advantage."
Robert took a slight step back, incredulous. "Our? Courtney, wait. You need to tell the team, the SDN, the authorities—"
"No!" she cut in, far too quickly, far too scared. "If the information Shroud kept ends up in the hands of the authorities… then…"
Robert narrowed his eyes. "Then what?"
Courtney clenched her jaw. She fought against something she had buried for far too long.
"The person who kept me out of prison…" Her voice trembled, just barely. "The one serving the sentence that should've been mine… they'll get even more years."
The silence that followed was thick—almost physical.
Robert stared at her for a long moment. "So… what you want is for me to help you commit a crime."
"No." Courtney's response was firm. "I'm asking you to trust me one more time… I want you to come with me. I don't want to do this… alone."
"Courtney, that's…" For a moment, Robert felt three answers slam into his mind at once:
["Too much"] — [Say nothing] — ["(Sigh)… fine… I'll go with you"]
—
A few minutes later… the door to the room didn't just open; it exploded inward, slamming against the metal stopper.
"BITCH, if you two are doing it, go invisible!" Prism shouted, barging in first with all the subtlety of a grenade.
"If they are doing it, I wanna see," added Malevola—the two-meter-tall demoness—peering over everyone else with genuine curiosity.
"Stop pushing, dammit! How the hell would they even be doing it in a hospital?" complained Flanbé, crushed against the doorframe.
"You all heard Royd…" Sonar chimed in from the back, deep voice calm, entirely uninvolved in the stampede. "She already showed them."
"Hey… this was the room, right?" asked Punch Up, slipping easily through the gap the others had clogged, courtesy of his… practical size.
"Y-yeah… yes. It's what they told us at reception," answered Waterboy, sounding absolutely unconvinced.
One by one, the members of the Z-Team finished entering.
And found a completely empty room.
No trace of Courtney.
Or Robert.
In the silence that followed, the blonde, elderly African-American man—looking bizarrely like a French football player going through something—surveyed the room, took a deep breath, and muttered, utterly baffled:
"So… where the hell are these motherfuckers?!"