Chapter Text
It was five-o-clock PM in the Superhero Dispatch Network's Torrance office, and activity was slowing down as the end of the day shift neared. Dispatchers, heroes and other support staff were in the process of packing up or clocking out, while the night shift was in the process of arriving and clocking in.
A thirty year old man, Robert Robertson III, swivels idly in his chair as his team of reformed-supervillains-turned-heroes reported their results on the day's final dispatches: Punch-Up and Coupé had been sent to disrupt an arms deal, trading in old Red Ring augments and cybernetics; Coop was especially energetic to rip Red Ring a new one, despite her usual stoic professionalism, and Punch-Up was more than eager to enable her. Malevola and Sonar went to a drug bust, much to the latter's delight and the former's chagrin when he ended up relapsing with yet another cocaine bump. Great. Another write-up demand to dodge.
Flambae and Prism were dispatched to work security for a car dealership whose cars were being torched by environmental extremists—Flambae in particular had a good time scaring away hippies with a brilliant show of pyrokinetics while Prism had time to post on her socials of all the heroic shit they were doing. Golem, ever the gentle giant, helped a housing reconstruction effort in the residential districts by hauling building material. The two actual heroes on the team, Phenomaman and Waterboy, worked the beach, helping a couple of gray whales return to the water after accidentally washing ashore.
All in all, it was a good shift, save for one.
Invisigal—Courtney—was still working her assigned mission, chasing down a group of teenage shoplifters at the nearby Walmart after they stole an assortment of snacks and cheap cubic zirconia jewelry.
Robert taps in to the security cameras on Normandie Avenue, frowning as he sees his... friend? Girlfriend? Fuckbuddy? Whatever she was, she was standing cross-armed, planting a combat boot on the back of the leader of the gang, while the others lay in a heap. Their bats, crowbars and knives of varying sizes were scattered across the concrete.
He zooms his camera's view closer. Turns out, the only thing stopping her from reporting in is that she was a bit busy getting shouted at by a portly woman—presumably the mother of the teen she was casually stepping on. The mother was trying to push Invisigal off, but she easily sidesteps her clumsy shoves and parries her claw swipes with a bored expression on her face.
"Invisigal, what's going on?" Robert asks with an exhausted sigh.
"This bitch thinks it's a good idea to yell at me for defending myself, when her dipshit son and dipshit friends tried to jump me." Invisigal flatly replies into her headset over the verbal tirade the mother hurls at her. "The shoplifting call was a lure, fucking kids thought they'd up their cred by beating up whoever SDN dispatched here—cops should be here any sec."
"Alright, well, could you hurry up and report in? The others are on their way back already." He was not looking forward to the paperwork for this incident.
"Chill out, babe. It's Friday, right? Just wanna see the look on her face when her kids get hauled off for being stupid." The ex-thief snarks as she takes a puff from her inhaler. "See you in a bit?"
"...Yeah. See you in a bit." Robert sighs, taking off the headset. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he watches the rest of the teams' trackers return to headquarters. Ever since Courtney took Shroud's bullet intended for him, she had been making steady improvements in her work ethic, and the results spoke for itself—at least according to her performance reviews over the past couple of months.
Despite her positive progression, there are still times—far and few between as they are—where she slips up and ends up kicking someone a little too hard or the odd trinket is missing from a crime scene, although that was just a problem with the entire Z-Team in general that Robert had gotten used to.
A shutdown of a dispatcher terminal and the clatter of a chair catches his attention briefly. "Alright, that's it for me. Good night, Robert." Says a Naomi Chan from the neighboring cubicle as she grabs her coat from her chair.
"Yeah, good night, kid." Robert casually waves her off. Naomi was new, now that Chase—now Star Blazer—was back in the field and loving it ever since Mandy gave him her amulet, Chase's old dispatcher duties fell onto the new kid in the office, and she seemed to be taking to it well, finishing her "In" stack at a blazing speed before Robert could finish one after-action report.
With little else to do before Courtney returned to the office, Robert decided it was high-time he got his Twinkie fix.
***
As Robert chewed on a piece of cheaply-made sponge cake, he scribbled his signature on another after-action report (Flambae had given a protestor second-degree burns after she threw a drink at him). His nose detected a familiar perfume enter the room whose scent grew stronger as the source closed in on him, and soon after, a pair of slender arms wrapped around gently his neck in a tender hug.
"Hey, Mecha Man~" Came the sing-song of Courtney tweeting sweetly into his ear. "Good work today~"
"Same to you, Invisigal." Robert replies, one of his rare smiles gracing his face as he leans backwards into her hug. "Took you long enough."
"Decided to take the long way, get some Granny's on the way back. Got you your favorite~"
"Plain glazed?"
"Ya-huh. Put it on your desk."
"It's not smashed into my keyboard this time, right? Waterboy's not just the janitor anymore."
"You're giving your girl too little credit, dude. I actually like you now, remember?" Courtney grumbles, tightening her hug a little.
Robert chuckles, gently patting her arm to get her to ease up before she started strangling him. "I know, I know. Thank you."
A few seconds go by, seconds that feel like minutes. "...You did great today, too. Although you'll have to get a talking-to regarding appropriate use of force."
"Again?"
***
Once the two clocked out and made for the Mecha Man suit in the parking lot to head home, a notification tone rang out.
The two pull out their phones. It was a text in the Z-Team group chat:
Punch-Up: crypto tonight?
Robert: Wasn't Flambae banned from CryptoNite?
Malevola: Not since he saved dopple from being gangbanged by RR
Flambae: Your welcome by the way
Courtney looks up at Robert with a noncommittal shrug. "Beats going straight home on a Friday night... or going to the Sardine."
Robert is silent for a moment. It had been a while since the incident at the Sardine that he had been to a bar... "Eh, why the fuck not? Tell 'em we're coming.
Courtney beams, and rapidly typed out a reply in the chat:
Invisigal: Robby and I are otw. See you fucks there :P
Robert snorts as the message pops up on his screen. "Thanks, Court. Fly us there? I'll put on the mask and everything."
"You sure...?" Courtney asks with a mildly concerned tilt of her head. "...I remembered you felt silly the last time you put it on."
He blinked. "...You actually remembered that?"
Courtney nods an affirmative.
A tiny smile tugged at his mouth. "...Well, it's only a matter of time until I return to the field, so... I might as well get used to wearing the thing again."
"If you're sure."
"I am sure." Robert says confidently, opening up the front hatch and climbing into the cockpit and clicking his harness into place. "Come on."
She eagerly climbs in after him, and the cockpit's hatch slides shut.
Now this was her favorite part of the day. No goddamn traffic and no annoying drivers.
Just her and Robert.