Chapter Text
I sleep like the dead and waking up is a slow, painful affair. Phenomaman’s bruises had ripened, turning beautiful yellows and dark blues, and it ached to twist and turn.
Bruised like a peach… from a fucking hug.
I check the cuts from the glass, ensuring none of the scabs came off in the night. A layer of arnica cream on the bruises, and some vaseline on the scabs.
Using too much antibiotics risked resistant bacteria, with the amount of scrapes and cuts I accumulated, vaseline was a better long term ointment. I could buy it in bulk too.
Hmm, was that a Hero Pro-tip? I noted it down on my phone as I threw on my uniform and set out with Beef. Hopefully Tuesday will be less exciting than Monday.
Five minutes from the parking lot I get an email from Blonde Blazer, one to the entire Torrance branch.
I was wrong. Chase was right.
There were three news crews in the parking lot. One shooting a piece that’d probably go on
Late Morning or afternoon new broadcast. We were not to speak with them on our way in, but SDN would be looking for one or two Dispatchers to maybe be interviewed for their opinion on the company and the significance of SDN bringing in Brainteaser yesterday.
No one was to offer any information as to which staff or hero brought him in.
I sigh as I park, getting a good look at the crews. I don’t recognize any of them… which is strange. In past media circuses that I was a part of as Mecha Man, it was the same twenty or so reporters that would report on and interview heroes. All the news studios are hoping for that Hero Reporter romance trend on the East Coast.
I didn’t recognize anyone here today… Wait…fuck.
Correction, I saw one person here I recognized.
Charles Kingsley, from South Bay Signal. His face still shows some lingering damage from where I… head butted his face. But otherwise either healed or under a massive amount of makeup he was here, watching over the shoulder of the Cameraman as a female reporter spoke into a microphone.
His presence told me something, Mecha Man press conferences are on the same level of SDN accomplishments in the eyes of the local news cycle.
That’s nice to know.
“Unlike past captures however, yesterday's imprisonment of Supervillain Brainteaser was not led by one of their many hero teams, but instead, a Dispatcher. SDN is famed or hiring retired Superheros to utilize their-”
I head into the building quickly, making sure to avoid the looks the reporters send my way.
They are hungry, prospecting. Trying to identify the unknown dispatcher who was the subject of the day’s events. Most dismissed me, my frame suggesting mail room worker or boring accountant than ex hero.
I briefly meet Kingsley’s eyes before increasing my pace. His eyes weren't dismissing me.
Might be worth exiting through the fire escape if they were still out there in the evening.
The office doesn’t freeze when I step off the elevator. But people pause. Hesitate. The ex-heros give me a nod. Officially recognizing me as one of them. Maskot gives me a thumbs up, their massive head twisting to look at me.
I still wasn’t clear if she was an animated theme park costume or someone cursed into the outfit... or just a Superhero who really liked cats.
Origin stories were messy.
The few who are ex-villians, previous alumni of the Phoenix Program, give me more assessing looks, maybe seeing if we had clashed during their villain days, or trying to pin down just what power I had that allowed me to go toe to toe with a Supervillian.
Never mind that Brainteaser hadn't been particularly violent in the last three years.
The rest just stare, the disconnect of my unassuming office look apparently breaking their brains. They don’t whisper, but the hum of conversation grows and lessens as I move into the Bullpen, setting my bag down at my cubicle. My back prickled from all the gazes staring at it.
“Oh good, Robert, you’re here,” Blonde Blazer says, floating towards me, her face brow slightly furrowed. I stare, I hadn’t seen her float in the office before. Was it a nervous tick? From the media outside? “Did you have any trouble with the reporters outside?”
“Blazer,” I greet, heading to the break-room. It seems like I’d need to get my coffee in me, ASAP. “No trouble, it doesn’t seem like they know who brought in Brainteaser, they just know it's a dispatcher.”
Her shoulders drop and her face smooths out, she drops to the ground with a small thud. “Good, she says with a sigh, “I was worried people hadn’t seen the email. The Regional Director is going to come out to make a statement at lunch. No one should have to speak if they don’t want to.”
“I appreciate it,” I say honestly, taking a sip of the coffee. There we go. Caffeine.
“It’ll be the first time he’s visited since I took over,” Blazer says, pushing a lock of hair behind one ear. “It’s amazing that it's for something positive.”
I raise an eyebrow, “Worried that the Z-Team would punt some rich actor’s kid into the hospital?”
“No, no, nothing like that!” Her chuckles quickly die off and Blonde Blazer stares at me.
“Do you think they’d do that?”
“I bet they wish they could.” I say, heading back to the cubicle. “The callers from yesterday wanting the team to move and rebuild their IKEA furniture were at least testing my patience.”
Blonde Blazer relaxes further and laughs. “Yeah, some of the subscriber requests are a bit minor. Buuut it helps keep the lights on.”
Her phone rings and she leaves with a wave of a hand. “Z-Team is in the gym. Let me know if you need me, yeah?”
Chase gets in as I take a seat and I shoot him a look.
“What do you know about the Regional Director?” I ask, mildly curious for some gossip before I went to line out the Z-Team. “He’s supposed to be stopping by today.”
Chase curses, getting my attention. “That no good shitstain’s coming here? Why? ”
“He’s going to speak about the capture of Brainteaser,” I say slowly, watching his expression. “What’s so bad about him?”
“Man’s a MBA moron with a hard on for Super Heroes. Wanting to build a Super Team to replace the Bold Brigade as LA’s regional Hero Team. He switches in and out heroes based on image, rankings, whatever he thinks would make the team better. Everyone else? Heroes who get hurt, go through shit, have problems? He swaps them out, and doesn't want their problems.”
Chase fully rants, eyes angrily pinched.
“Asshole hired me, thought he could get Trackstar on his fucking Super Friends team before he knew of my condition. Second he saw my grey hairs, he bumped me, didn’t want me ruining his precious team’s image. Then, when he was made Regional Director, he kicked a ton of heroes out of the Downtown location.”
“Asshole,” I said simply. “No wonder Blonde Blazer’s so frazzled about the visit.” A thought comes to mind.
“Should I warn the Z-Team about the visit?” I ask, “Try to have them play nice?”
Chase snorts. “I don’t think nice is even in their vocabulary. But if you can keep them tired, get them out of the office when he’s here. Do it. Motherfucker trades reputation and prestige over actual ability any day. He’d bring in Ex-Heroes that were ass at Dispatching or should have left the game altogether. But he kept them on, used them in advertising to get more contracts, fuck if we actually did a good job or helped anybody.”
I nod, my thoughts distant as I pet Beef. “You think he knows? About,” I lower my voice. “Mecha Man?”
Chase shakes his head. “That’s all under wraps. You said it yourself in that interview, you’re not retired yet. Only three people in the building know of that.”
I relax slightly. If we could keep our heads down today, it’d all blow over. “Thanks,” I say, standing up. “I need to go review with the Team, we’re moving to team exercises today.”
“What? Going to do trust falls? Knowing those fuckers, they’ll step on each other and push each other to the ground,” Chase snarks, opening his dispatch screen.
I laugh and grab the bag of supplies I had gathered under my desk before heading out.
“Try sushi places, they have a bunch of fish you could try feeding-”
The sentence dies off as I enter the gym. The entire Z-Team is there, talking quietly amongst themselves.
I pause in the doorway before continuing in. Sonar and Malevola are staring at me like they’d never seen me before. Golem, Flambae, Prism, all look like they're confused, as though I had told them something incredulous. The only two that seem normal are Waterboy and Invisigal.
Waterboy gives a hesitant thumbs up, Invisigal leans against the wall and calls out a lazy question.
“I heard you almost got kidnapped by a strange old man in a trenchcoat.” Invisigal said with a grin, “What did your Daddy never tell you not to talk to strangers?”
“Hello to you, too,” I say wryly. She had been quiet at the end of the movie. Leaving with a murmured, “See you at the office,” before invisibly leaving the theater. “Yeah, but the strange man didn’t have candy with him, just some shitty tricks.”
Her eyes narrow at me and I address the entire team. “Good morning. You’ve all been great with the spars and mock fights. Today we’re moving to an outside drill. Follow me, it's a bit of a walk.”
“Aww, I wanted to punch Wetboy,” Flambae snarks, eyeing the younger superhero who swallowed before, very obviously, trying to ignore Flambae, he follows me out of the gym with an exaggerated gait.
We attract stares, especially from the news crews still in the parking lot. They had finished their pieces and were now waiting around in the parking lot. Some of them eating an assortment of breakfast sandwiches and burritos.
I don’t glance their way at all as I take the team down the street.
SDN sat in a block of office buildings, with a good amount of them unoccupied. The additional office space has been unneeded or unwanted since the last economic slump.
SDN rented the parking lots as a training space, putting down a small deposit in case of any collateral damage to the structures. The pavement was cracked and cratered in many places.
The team watched me and whispered to one another, as I opened the bag over my shoulder and began to set up the course.
“This is just fucked up doge ball,” Sonar points out as I continue packing the fake civilian full of sandbags.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was cheap and got the point across. The civilian, a giant cloth bag shaped… kinda like a human. It looks a little closer to Golem than any of us. But if it got cut or any hard impact, sand would spill out the edges.
“This rescue drill,” I reemphasize, “Will test two things. First, for one of you, it will test your ability to carry and escort a civilian through a hazardous area. You will need to navigate uneven terrain while under assault from a variety of hazards. And two, teamwork and communication. You’ll need to work together with your partner to protect, defend, and navigate,”
I have each team assigned to a section of the course, Flambae and Prism at the front section, Punch-Up and Waterboy in the middle, and Sonar and Malevola at the end.
Golem and Invisigirl stand at the start, looking at the course with apprehension as I give them the fake civilian.
“For the hazard makers, you’re allowed to use your powers to trip, sabotage, and hinder them. Your goal is to practice your accuracy. For people whose powers don’t include any ranged attacks, there's a bucket of softballs to grab from.”
Punch-Up, Prism, and Sonar approach the bucket, taking a few each. Punch-Up chucks a ball into the ground with a solid crack of impact, examining the force of impact.
“The goal is not to maim or injure, it's to get the sandbag,” I say, giving a sharp look to Flambae, who is playing with a handful of fire, tossing it from one hand to the other.
I assessed the whole team, as they seemed engaged. I feel good about this exercise. This should be good for them.
“Everyone Ready?”
“Shit, fuck, fuck.” Invisigal swears, diving behind Golem, the fake civilian dragging her down. Fire splashes harmlessly against Golem’s dirt exterior. Prism is doing some kind of strobe effect, throwing softballs as she blinds her targets. Golem trudges forward, a mobile barrier that Invisgal dances behind, slowly moving through the course.
I stand at the end of the course next to Sonar and Malevola, watching as Invisigal tripped in a pothole, the sandbag dummy flying from her grasp.
“So how do you two know each other?” I ask the two, Golem stops to check on Invisigal. Softballs embedded into his body.
Sonar’s ears twitch as he registers the question, and the two exchange a look before looking at me.
“A cult tried to sacrifice him to me,” Malevola said with a shrug.
I blink.
“What, like a ritual sacrifice to a dark god? Cthulhu shit?” I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe a friendship born out of a gang connection or at the same club.
Malevola leers at me, demonic eyes burning, but it's Sonar who gives them away, his mouth twitching with amusement.
“Cut the shit,” I say, as Ivisigal and Golem move to the next section. Steam hissing off Golem as waterboy… spits massive loogies of water at them.
“Get it Waterboi! Go all Hawk Tuah on them!” cheers Prism.
He needed a better way to spray water. Hearing it gargle up his throat was… not a good sound.
“Ugh, fine,” Malevola says, drawing my attention. “There was a ritual, but a botched one. I was traveling around Cali, looking into places of evil. There was this sweet mansion in San Jose. Winchester House. Had a really cool haunting in its foundations. I was trying to draw out the power when-”
“When I fell into her ritual circle,” Sonar picks up. “Winchester House is a local attraction. I wandered in the private parts of the mansion, got lost. I may have been a little high,”
Malevola snorts and he continues, “Anyways, I fucked up some magic shit.”
His snout twitches as he turns to look at the course. Malevola gave him a pat on his back. “He absorbed the house's energy, the magic and it made him beastly. It was too much for his soul, so I’ve been following him around ever since to try and get it out. Fed off the energies when they grew too intense. Gave up five years back or so, it fused with his soul for too long.”
They both go silent and I blink at them. That just raised more questions. “And now… you’re both here?”
“Yeah, Silicon Valley underground wasn’t cool with me as a Bat, I didn’t make for a good front man anymore so they had me as the fall guy. Then some things happened,” Sonar says vaguely. Obviously not mentioning the 'some things'. Malevola nods, taking delight in the suspicious gaze I level at them.
Any other questions are cut off by Golem and Invisigal’s arrival to their portion of the course. Malevola summons a portal and stabs her blade through it, tripping up Golem. Sonar’s muscles bulge and shift and letting out a piercing cry as he lets his softballs fly, his monstrous form engaged.
It’s fast and brutal and Invisigal is on the ground glaring up at me as I give her my flattest stare.”So where’s the civilian?” I ask.
“I got it.”
Golem lumbers forward, his brow furrows and I have a half idea of what's about to happen before it happens.
The dummy is expelled from Golem’s body, coated in a layer of mud. I don’t look at it further, locking eye contact with Golem.
“Did you make an air pocket this time?”
Golem frowns at me.
“No…”
Sonar’s laughing at the two. “Dudes, you both got owned!”
I sigh, and then clap my hands, “Alright! Let’s rotate!” I call out. “Malevola, Sonar, you’re both up.”
Sonar stops laughing, Malevola smacks the back of his head.
We only get two pairs run through before we have to return to SDN for our actual Hero Shift. The Z-Team is quiet, sporting mud streaks, some light singeing, and soaking wet clothes as we trudge back into the building.
“That’s some brutal training for heroes who are supposed to be saving the people of Torrance today,” A voice speaks up, causing me to turn around.
My fucking luck.
Charles Kingsley walks towards me, looking at the back of the Z-Team as the door swings shut. “Charles Kingsley,” He says, reaching out a hand, “South Bay Signal, so what are you some kind of super trainer?”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you,” I say, taking his hand, giving a firm shake. “And it's just some teambuilding exercises,”
His eyes rake over my form, taking me in. I try to shift my body language, look like your average office worker.
“You’re their Dispatcher. For this branch of the Phoenix Program.” he deduces.
I cross my arms, “And what if I am?”
“Your team’s been a menace to Torrance. House fires are up twenty percent, missing drugs from crime scenes, property damage, and destruction every day.”
I know what he’s doing. Fishing. Trying to get me to snap. Did this guy’s entire career contain just instances of pissing people off and then reporting the fallout?
“It was nice meeting you, Charles, but I need to get back to work,” I say, turning away from him.
“They say someone on the Z-Team caught Brainteaser,” He says before I can walk away from him. “Do you think any of them have the potential to replace Mecha Man? Defend us from actual threats? Or are they just going to get someone killed one of these days playing pretend hero?”
I pause at the question, was he just connecting Brainteaser to Mecha Man? Or.... I glance at his face, and then away.
His eyes were locked on me, my reaction. His face gave nothing away as he just watched and waited.
“... We at SDN Torrance do our best to live up to the promises that SDN makes to all community hosts. To best serve and protect the area. All our heroes are trained and ready to help anyone in need,” I say shortly, continuing to walk away from him.
Maybe he knew. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he cornered some other coworker in the parking lot. Maybe he was just guessing in the dark. But I knew one thing, Charles Kingsley was trouble.
And the less I could interact with him, the less he would get from me.