Your dad and Robert’s dad didn’t really exist when it came to normal life.

They were never home to help with homework or make breakfast. They were never there after nightmares or for news of good grades. Instead, they were out there as a part of the Brave Brigade. They dealt with stuff that sounded way too big for anyone your age to even imagine.

Sometimes Chase, technically a junior member or something, got stuck with babysitting duty. He complained about it a lot, but you knew it was only half real—mostly he was just annoyed that he had to deal with you two instead of stopping bank robbers or whatever it was hero’s did these days.

You and Robert have learned to look out for each other because of it. When one of you is feeling a little lonely or frustrated that your dad missed yet another school event, the other’s there. Robert makes sarcastic jokes to hide that he cares too much, and you usually answer back with something equally ridiculous so neither of you has to be serious about it. It’s how you survive having dads who are heroes: you become heroes for each other.

You plop down on the floor of Robert’s room, wincing as your knees hit the carpet. “Dude, your room is… a mess,” you say, glancing at the toys that littered floor.

Robert shrugs, not even looking up from the action figures he’s carefully lining up. “It’s not a mess,” he says, picking up a tiny mech with a missing arm. “Besides, your room probably looks just as bad.”

“Hey! My room is… not messy,” you argue weakly, moving to sit next to him. You peek at his collection. “Whoa. You have all of them. Even the limited edition ones?”

He grins, showing off the one with yellow accents. “Yup. Got this one last summer. Totally worth saving my allowance for. Look, he’s Mecha Man 3000. Totally invincible.”

You pick it up and roll its tiny arms around. “Invincible, huh? Then why’s his arm broken?”

He huffs. “Battle scars, obviously. Real heroes never come out of a fight looking perfect. You’ll see when i’m older.”

You flop onto your stomach, careful not to knock over any of his carefully arranged figures. “Okay, seriously… it’s like a tiny army base,” you say, nudging a figure with your finger.

Robert snorts. “Yeah, well, every hero needs their base. These guys? They’re my elite squad.”

“Oh, really?” You pick up one of the figures with tiny yellow details. “This guy? I’ll call him… Evil Lightning.”

Robert grabs another figure and points it at yours. “No! That’s not allowed. He’s obviously a double agent working for good—he’s just pretending to be evil. Rookie mistake.”

You huff. “Fine. Then he’s Evil Lightning pretending to be evil. Happy now?”

He groans dramatically, “Fine, I’ll allow it...”

You grin, setting the figure down and grabbing one of the bigger mechs. “Alright, General, your squad is about to be attacked!”

Robert’s eyes light up. “Finally, some action!” He jumps to the floor, crouching low like he’s commanding an army. “Troops, form a defensive line! Yellow accents to the front!”

You giggle, moving your figures toward his. “But Evil Lightning attacks from the back! Sneaky, sneaky!”

He gasps and leaps forward, knocking over a few of your figures as you did his. “Nooooo! My elite squad! They were perfectly aligned!”

“Ha! You’re supposed to defend, not cry!”

“Cry!?” he shoots back, “I’m not crying! I’m…. strategizing! Huge difference!”