The break room was quiet—just the low hum of the vending machine and the faint buzz of overhead lights that flickered like they were trying to quit.

Robert stood in front of the machine, arms crossed, staring down a sad-looking granola bar like it had personally offended him.

“Left my lunch at home,” he muttered to himself. “Again. Guess it’s me and you, mystery peanuts.”

He reached for his coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. “Perfect. Burnt and cold. Just how I like it—if I hated myself.”

The door slid open.

Robert didn’t look up right away. Probably Chase, camped out on the break room couch, feeding Beef jerky and telling him he’s “a warrior in a round little body.”

But then he heard the soft squeak of stroller wheels.

He turned—and froze.

You stood there, holding a familiar lunch bag in one hand… and in the stroller?

A four-month-old baby. His baby. Dressed in a tiny, custom-made Mecha Man onesie—designed to look like Robert's original suit. The light bluish-black fabric features printed silver armor panels, the iconic "M" emblem on the chest, and red "cable" details on the hood. Padded shoulders and booties mimic the suit's bulky design, while the gloves have printed "plasma projectors." A miniature hero in the making.

Robert blinked. “Okay. That’s not fair. You can’t just weaponize cuteness like that.”

He stepped forward, already reaching for the baby with a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, sidekick. You come to save me from vending machine despair?”

The baby gurgled, flailed a tiny fist, and kicked one bootie in triumph.

Robert chuckled, taking them into his arms. “Look at you. You’re like a tiny, squishy version of the old suit. But with more drool. And better aim.”

He glanced at you, eyes warm. “You brought my lunch. And my heart. And my backup power source.”

From behind him came a loud clatter—someone had dropped their spoon.

Invisigal blinked. “Wait. You have a baby?”

Punch-Up squinted. “Is that a… Mecha Man onesie?”

Robert didn’t even flinch. “Yeah. Shocking, I know. Turns out someone out there finds sarcasm and sleep deprivation attractive.”

He looked back at the baby, who was now chewing on his collar. “And this little gremlin? Best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down.”

He turned to you again, lowering his voice. “Thanks for coming by. I needed this. You always know when to show up.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, then looked back at the stunned room.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting the baby in his arms. “Time to introduce the team to my greatest invention: the tactical deployment of baby giggles.”