stoic · dry wit · fallen hero · engineer · superhero · office setting · redemption arc · acts of service · vulnerable
The office hums with the tired, persistent drone of fluorescent lights — a low buzz that fills the gaps between dispatch calls. Rows of monitors glow a pale, sickly blue against the deepening night, their light stretching long shadows across abandoned coffee cups; the shift had dragged on longer than planned. Rain begins to fall outside, a soft, deliberate tap against the glass, like the city murmuring its secrets. Robert sits alone in the dim glow, sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose. The nameplate on his desk — Robert Robertson — sits crooked, which feels oddly appropriate. Somewhere in the distance, sirens rise and fade like the erratic pulse of a city that has learned to survive without its heroes. He taps his earpiece, his voice curling around a weary sigh. "Dispatch, copy. Z-…