Chapter Text
FRIDAY, 8:02 PM
There was no way—and no need—to sugarcoat it; his first shift with the Z-Team was an utter and absolute fiasco.
While, sure, his quick memorization skills helped a lot with remembering his new team’s abilities—or thereof lack of them—and helped him with mostly successfully assigning them correctly to the required tasks, it was still not it.
And by it he meant his shift’s last call; Invisigal’s failure. Blonde Blaze deliberately refrained from using this specific word to describe the mission’s final outcome. In Robert’s opinion there was no point avoiding it; all the unnecessary risks that could be—were taken. And it all came down to not only his team’s inner unsettled conflicts they had between themselves but also to their childish decline to cooperate—listen, really—with him.
He didn’t know what he was signing up for, that was clear. But between the sweet moment he could spend with Blonde Blazer and the complete clusterfuck that he was dumped into; he didn’t expect it to go that bad.
For the most part while being Mecha Man Blue he didn’t know much about his enemies. The quick thinking he had to drill into himself in the end proved to be a great skill to have. The circumstances often demanded from him to make his decisions in spurs of the moment where everything had to happen quickly, swiftly.
The consequences of the barely thought-through decisions were a hard but necessary lesson he had to learn; there was no such a thing as mercy nor second chances in this brand of work.
That’s why he was specifically unhappy with the metaphorical pat-on-the-back and a job-well-done words when he didn’t feel like he deserved them.
“That’s bullshit.” He couldn’t help but say with his eyes wandering over from Blong Blazer to sitting right next to him Chase.
“Oh! Well—” Blonde Blazer tried to chim in,
but he couldn’t make himself close his mouth and let her. “You gave me a team.” He made sure to put pressure on the last part. The letter ‘m’ rolled off his tongue with a rough edge and calm firmness.
“A team full of supervillains who, for some reason, are in this program,” he looked back and forth between the two. His gaze was stone and when met with the Blazer’s one he could swear there was some intrigue—but also doubt—seeping through her own hard facade.
“And if there’s one thing I take seriously it’s work.” And Beef, he internally added. “You have to let me lead them and not ‘hope for the best’ that one day they’ll listen and not fuck up.”
Grimacing, he relaxed his shoulders. He must’ve flexed them unconsciously while talking and the years of being confined in the mech’s crumpled space—and the coma—didn’t treat the majority of his muscles kindly.
Letting out a soundless breath he adjusted his position in the seat, halting himself before his hand could’ve wandered up to massage his stiff neck. Rather than doing that he carefully opened and closed his fists that were on the armrest in an attempt to redirect his focus on something else.
“I know you do,” Blazer started while giving him the same smile she did for all this time—full of warmth and softness, “that’s why I accepted Chase’s suggestion to reach out to you.”
“More like jumped into the opportunity.” Chase quietly muttered.
Blazer didn’t let these words affect her negatively, quite the opposite. She only chuckled at them while slightly shaking her head. “That’s true, we are getting quite desperate with what to do with them.”
Robert hummed, trying to not let her expression’s sudden change to this hopeful look get to him. “But like I’ve said, it’s their best performance we’ve had in a while. Between us, I was ready to scrap this program completely if the next dispatcher we gave them wouldn’t improve much.”
Gracefully, on the desk’s surface she stretched her forearms forward and clenched her hands into fists.
Robert wasn’t an idiot, he could see when someone was putting and doing everything they could to keep something afloat. Besides the—for certain—monetary profit this program had for the SDN’s Torrance branch, he knew there must've been another reason for continuing it.
And would you look at that, he finally found it. Moreso, it came to him itself; he didn’t even have to look for it far.
Blonde Blazer really believed that the Phoenix Program was a good opportunity to rehabilitate those villains.
“I had high hopes for this program, for them,” Blazer spoke when the silence started to drag, “but I think we need to accept that the bar for them is low.” She repeated the same words that spurted his previous—still ongoing—offense.
“I would’ve cut them all long ago, if you ask me.” Chase added, shrugging.
At the same time making Robert grimace. “Look,” he started, consciously lowering the tone of his voice to get their entire attention. “Phoenix Program is there for a reason, we don’t only want to make supers help a random citizen in need or warm up SDN’s image.”
Taking out the bloodied tissue from his nose and pocketing it into his trousers, he paused to think. “Actually, how are the program’s members accepted?” Because it should’ve been one of the first questions he asked.
Letting everyone in—wherever they got these people from—sounded unlike SDN. From the few passing occasions he had a chance to hear about the company it was that—a company first and foremost. And the things that companies valued the most were their public image and money.
There had to be some kind of system, a set of rules, guidelines based on which the possible candidates were judged. From his own experience Robert would be the first one to say that not everyone deserved—or had—to be redeemed.
That and some of the villains weren’t probably accepted because their presence in the program would’ve backfired on the SDN’s image. To put it simply; their appearance would bring a massive controversy, the bad kind of.
“They join on their own,” which only a second later Blonde Blazer realized was worded poorly from the puzzled look he sent her. “As in, the candidates are either given the option to join—”
“If they’re in jail.” Chase chimed in.
“Or they can volunteer to be a part of the program.”
Robert hummed, thinking all over the approach he should take towards the Z-Team members.
“The bar needs to go up.” With lowering his hands out of everyone’s sight—including his own—he scratched his palm. “And I need them to see that I’m all in, that I’m not just-another-dispatcher that’ll get tired of their bullshit and quit.” In one moment the interaction from before flashed in his mind.
The Z-Team’s confidence that he will soon quit, be it with or without Flambae setting his nonexistent car on fire. It gave him the bare understanding of how their inner dynamics worked; all of the members were certain they wouldn't see him on their next shift, that he would just leave like the guy before him.
“How do you want to do that?” Blazer questioned.
If Robert was any less observant he wouldn’t take notice of the little irk motion her shoulders did.
“I need them to trust me.” The sentence rolled off his tongue easily, too easy in comparison to how hard the task he just said was going to be.
“I need them to understand that I’m here to lead them and do my job, not that I’m here for a quick cash grab and to see them all fail.” Still out of sight—now only Chase and Blazer’s—he started to squeeze the tips of his fingers. Doing that brought him some amount of peace, concentration and gave some concentration so he could anew think over what he stated.
He knew what he admitted to was going to be tough. But no one said anything about it (and any other jobs that included heroics) being easy. And from what he was able to gather in these few minutes—everyone also had a reason to be in the program.
They didn’t join because someone told them to. Every single one of them had to make a conscious decision to be a part of the Phoenix Program. They had a reason and had to want to be in it.
And that was something Robert could—and had—to work with.
“They need to respect me as a leader, powers or not. See that I’m treating them seriously and that it’s finally time for them to also treat this as their job.”
“Some tough love.” Chase remarked.
“The only one I know,” he replied and looked at the older man.
He gave him a slight nod, signaling at the same that he knew what the other meant. He’ll have to give his hundred percent, probably even more if he wants the Z-Team to succeed. It wasn’t a matter of if he could but if he wanted to. Managing a team made out of a bunch of supervillains took a different kind of dedication and approach rather than a superhero one.
And looking that he already got this job; he could at the very least try to keep it. Even if in the end everything ended up to be a big failure, he won’t beat himself over not trying hard enough.
“And the only one they seem to respond to.” He added after finishing his train of thought.
“I’m not—” Blazer, who for all this time was quiet and kept on listening to him, exhaled heavily. It looked like her attempt to keep this conversation light and professional started to buckle, the weight of the situation getting to her. “I’m happy you’re getting invested in this, don’t get me wrong.”
Putting her palm on her forehead, she let out a small chuckle. “And I’m all for giving the Z-Team the much needed chance they all deserve, especially Invisigal—”
“Especially not her.”
“Chase.” Sending Chase’s way a small, friendly smile which was supposed to tease the other rather than to scold him. Upon receiving an unhappy grimace that was mostly covered by the moustache, Blazer continued. “But I also don’t want to bring my hopes up, I already…”
“Had them crushed?” Robert suggested.
From Blazer’s mouth escaped another lighthearted chuckle in pair with a soft huff. “Had them crushed, right.” He knew behind her words there was also a hidden ‘again’.
Leaning more into the chair, putting his whole weight onto the soft plush under him, Robert couldn’t help but somewhat cross his arms.
“I can’t promise everyone will make it, they won’t.” He made a brief pause to gather his words, to pick the proper terms and what to say—and what not—to properly signal that he wanted to help. At the same time, he wasn’t a magician, he couldn’t promise to achieve the impossible. The least thing he could do was give the Z-Team his time and patience—and his skills—it was up to them on what they’d choose to do in the endgame.
“And I’m not saying things won’t get spicy, they will.” The sentence when spoken out loud had this sharp undertone that he now supposed could have sounded hostile. But he wasn’t going to measly gloss over everything. Blazer also had to see he was all in, for him to be able to keep this job and to keep his new team in check.
“But when they do, I need you to trust me to handle it.” And for a moment, if he wasn’t so endorsed in it, Robert could swear that Blonde Blazer’s eyes shined when he finished talking.
Firmly, he nodded at her. “You gave me a team and I’m going at least to try and make it into a proper one.”
“That’ll be hard.” Blazer pointed out, but at this point Robert could feel she was testing him.
And the worst—maybe best—was that he knew where she was coming from; she didn’t want to see another setback when there were already so many previous others. She was trying to not get her hopes up but from the conversation they had in the records room he knew Blazer was waiting for a miracle.
“I’ve heard this word too many times since I got here. One more and you all will make me think it’s SDN’s catchphrase.” Because deflecting a hard situation with a joke seemed like the right thing to do.
And from the laugh both Blond Blazer and Chase let out, it was the right one. Joining them, he chose to treat this as a break from the heavy topic they were discussing. From forward on opportunities like these—of a lighter conversation—will be a treat he’ll have to savor. There was a lot of work he had to put into managing and building the Z-Team, and he wasn’t going to try to convince himself that everything would go smoothly.
“Hope you’re ready for some disappointment, I don’t give these fuckers more than a week.”
“Chase,” it was his turn to give the older man a smirk. With raised eyebrows, Robert somewhat challenged the other’s statement. He quickly lowered them though, replacing enriching the atmosphere with their dry humor. “Not everyone is satisfied with the bare minimum like some of us.”
Chase let out an ugly snort. “Your bare minimum is their top-notch on the good days, not mentioning anything about their worst. Which mind you, they seem to always have.” With his elbow he nudged Robert’s arm, smirking.
Robert reciprocates the gesture with a smirk of his own while lightly pushing the other away, back on his seat.
He turned to face Blazer. “I’ll want to check out their files again.”
She nodded, ready to respond but Chase was faster than her.
“Will do.” Giving Robert a nod of his own the older stood up from the chair. “I’ll prepare everything for you in the records room, don’t think there’s anything else you could possibly get from them but eh, suit yourself.”
Letting a low hum, Robert tried to think what else could he possibly need—what’ll be good to know.
“Are there any medical records available?” He quickly added before the other could push the handle and leave.
Chase’s raised eyebrows told everything about his opinion on this matter—Robert asking for any additional scraps of information—but nonetheless, he waved his hand dismissively in the air and turned to them with his back.
“Eh,” his friend let out a loud huff. “I’ll see what I can do.” With that as his last words both him and Blazer were left alone.
“I’ll… have some more questions.” Left Robert’s mouth when he was done trailing with his sight after Chase as he moved behind the roller blinds.
“I’m sure you do, well,” she trailed off, immediately bending down to search for something in one of her desk’s drawers. When she was done, she brought up a thick folder. “Here, I think you might find it useful.”
Robert spared it a few glances, looking a few times up and down from Blazer to the newfound object—at the same noticing the encouraging movement she made by raising her eyebrows to pick it up.
Submitting, Robert took the folder in his hands, beforehand taking note of the stamped on it in vibrant, red ink ‘Phoenix Program’ that was written in bold, big letters. When he opened it, he immediately jumped into reading its contestants.
“That’s… the whole file about the Phoenix Program.” He noted after he was done with the first paper. He already could form some suspicions—based on the file’s size and what he just read—what else he’ll find in it.
“Not everything, but enough for you to understand what you’re working with…” Blazer wandered with her eyes somewhere off of him, focusing on him back after a beat passed. “Actually, I think it’s the first time I’m pulling this out.” She mused out loud.
Robert couldn’t help himself from giving her an odd look. “You didn’t before?” He questioned, feeling it strange that he was the first one—besides, probably, Blazer—to hold the file.
“No.” She chuckled, shaking her head ever so gently. “Not really, Chase wasn’t joking when he said that most dispatchers don’t stay for longer than a day, maybe two.”
A quiet “hmm,” came from the depth of his throat. He ran his hand over the folder, seeing it now in a new light.
The pile of papers were in the great majority—again, probably—regulations about the program itself, explaining in-depth what was supposed to be its main purpose. Robert already had a guess that a lot of the mentioned rules were broken by the Z-Team on more than one occasion.
“Oh, I can’t exactly give you the whole folder.” Blazer suddenly perked up, distracting him from his train of thoughts.
Robert grimaced. “Yeahh… I don’t think I have enough time to go through it today then.”
Not mentioning his next shift started on Monday, the weekend was a prime chance to go over everything—alright, the majority of it—that was in the folder. Technically, his job here was done but from what he knew the SDN building didn’t have set closing hours.
There was one occasion he could recall where he worked with a SDN-sent hero at night. That could mean there was a separate department dedicated to dispatching during the late hours. Maybe he’ll be allowed to stay overnight to properly give everything a read, it wasn’t like he minded sleeping in his cubicle’s chair either (it looked and was much more comfortable in comparison to his own).
Blazer put her lips in a thin line, thinking.
“Oh, wait—” She suddenly remarked and opened a different drawer. She shuffled through it a bit and then straightened up with another—this time beige—folder. “You can take this one, it’s empty and ready to use.”
Robert took the offered object and turned it back and forth to examine it.
“As we—well, I—already established, I can’t give you my folder.”
Not giving it much thought, Robert brought both of the folders higher. “Hmm,” he hummed, realizing he did that a lot since this conversation started.
“But,” in one moment Blazer’s hand was at the top of the objects held by him. She gently lowered them, bringing his attention back to her. “I guess I can make an exception and let you make a copy of them. Juuust, you’ll have to promise me no one unauthorized will see them and that you’ll give me them back today before midnight.” Blonde Blazer said in a light, easy tone.
“Alright.” He agreed. Guess he won’t have to stay in the building in the end, his work-life balance wouldn’t be that terribly affected after all.
“If you have any questions you can message me them, here, here’s my number.” She pushed towards him a neon blue sticky note.
“Glad to know I still got it.” Robert joked, slipping into one of his pockets the piece of paper.
In one second Blazer’s eyes became comically wide, her hands already on it to wave around in a denying manner.
“Oh— No, it’s not like tha—!”
“I know.” He quickly supplied before Blazer could say something she’ll probably later regret—or be embarrassed about.
“Sorry, my bad.” Standing up, he gave her a faint and weak imitation of a smile.
She sat there, quite baffled—if he had to guess—at his abrupt change of approach. Luckily, she noticed his ready-to-bolt posture which he involuntarily signaled through his stiff posture.
“See you… on Monday.” Blazer added before he left her office.
“Yeah,” he absently nodded. “See you on Monday.” He replied and with both folders in-tow he left the office.
×××
MONDAY, 7:04 AM
The weekend ended as quickly as it started.
Which, on the other hand, meant that there was never enough time for Robert to do—and check—everything he wanted. Correction, there was not enough for him to see in the files in the first place.
The paper copies he made were lacking and he had a guess it wasn’t only because the company was protecting the program members' data. There was a high chance that all the Z-Team members had to provide some most basic info, so they did exactly that—the bare minimum.
The most spotty—of course—parts were the ones that included any kinds of vulnerabilities. And call him paranoid but he much rather preferred to have rather than not these kinds of information. Not only to ensure he could keep himself safe but in this case to also avoid sending someone unsuited for a mission that could end in one way or another; it could be easily prevented and he planned for that to happen.
Besides that there were also other more or less necessary things to take notice of. For example, it turned out that a lot of other cities also had decided to invest into the Phoenix Program.
His previous suspicion was also proven right—the Phoenix Program did provide a huge amount of money to the branch that had it. There was some advertisement-like junk which the more he reread the more it sounded like some kind of devil’s deal. But he couldn’t disagree, it was simply worth it to have a functioning program working.
Which brought him to his next problem—functioning. The Z-Team, as he already in his head and the other side of the Shroud-board established, was everything but functioning.
The plan he started to make inside of his head on how to make them all cooperate always went down to one point—the Z-Team needed to respect him. There were possibly millions of methods and ways he could approach this matter with but the outcome varied depending on what tactic he would take.
He already eliminated the one that focused on the Z-Team fearing him, it’s not like they even would, considering their own villainy background. If he wanted to succeed and keep the job until the Mecha Man’s suit was rebuilt; he had to take matters slow and let them develop on their own.
Robert didn’t do much before leaving his apartment. Hugging down a mug full of bitter and unnervingly thick coffee, he put Beef in the box he planned to take into the office.
“Taking my things slow’s kinda my speciality, isn’t it, Beef?” The dog yipped in response, graciously accepting the pat on the head Robert gave him.
Yeah, he just had to wait and don’t make haste moves, nor hurry anything. Calling a meeting with his new team members sounded like a good idea, there was no need to rush.
×××
MONDAY, 8:35 AM
“I was thinking about it over the weekend, and… It wasn’t an easy decision but I’m going to cut someone off from the Z-Team, or rather—you are.”
“What.” Escaped Robert’s lips before he could help it.
Blond Blazer blinked, looking at him. His shirt in comparison to yesterday was properly tucked in but it was the only thing that changed for the better. When he looked after waking up in the mirror he could swear his eyebags deepened—which was ironic, he didn’t even properly start this job and it was already creeping up on him.
“Well,” she started. “As I’ve said it wasn’t easy, but I thought it over and I think cutting someone off will show others that this program’s a serious matter… and that they should start treating it seriously.”
“Oh.” Robert couldn’t muster anything else up as he spared a single glance at his open palms. He fought the temptation to put his head in them and let out a long, dragging exhale.
Rather than doing that, he took a deep breath.
And straight-forwardly stated, “I think that’s a terrible idea.” Immediately accepting the owlish and startled expression Blonde Blazer gave him.