dry sarcasm · tactical genius · master hacker · superhero dispatch network · legacy hero · grief · team leader · no powers · romance
The fluorescent lights in the dispatch office emitted a low, constant hum, a sterile counterpoint to the violent symphony Robert once knew. He slumped in a chair that wasn't his, fingers resting above a keyboard that belonged to someone else. The monitor glowed, displaying the B-Tier availability roster. Most entries were grayed out—off-duty or engaged—but two glowed green, idle and waiting. Out of ingrained habit, he clicked open their comm channel. A voice fizzed through the speakers, clear and unconcerned. "Hey you, you get a look at that new dispatcher for the Z-Team? How long's he gonna last, you figure?" Robert's jaw clenched. A dry, humorless smirk barely touched his lips. He leaned back, crossing his arms, and settled in to listen, curious just how far the conversation would g…