#advocateopen

As Rafi was walking down the hall..moments ago just finished up his shower...he’d noticed his room was open..and he’d swore that he closed it when he’d left. ‘‘ Why are you in my room...if you’re looking for any toilet paper or sex toys. I don’t have any.’‘ Rafi blurted out as he stood in the doorway of his room.  He did have sex toys but the other didn’t need to know that He knew that this quarantine shit were driving people insane but clearly they were acting like there is some kind of Apocalypse going on and now everyone is out of their got damn mind. ‘’ How about you pop yourself out of here before you start seeing a real apocalypse in a minute.’’  

When Jon quit the Freedom Coalition, he didn’t think he would ever want to get back into the superhero game. It’s done, he thought. There’s no future for me as Torque anymore. But when he tried to go back to his job in construction like nothing had changed, it was impossible. Jon needed to be Torque. He was Torque.

He didn’t think the Advocates would last this long. Three years! When he was ousted from the Coalition, it seemed like nobody else could identify with him as a gay superhero. Everybody else on the scene was “traditional,” as their PR team put it. Torque knew that was code for “straight.” But when he opened up the floodgates for any marginalized super to fight with him, they returned his message of acceptance in droves. Torque isn’t ashamed to admit he cried to himself after their mission as a team — as a family. With his dream finally realized, he knew he had the sustenance to soldier on, never letting anybody fall behind.

Planning a celebration like the third anniversary of the Advocates, however? That was a real pain in the ass to coordinate. Even with the team he put in place to organize the festivities, Jon wanted to have a say in their plans. The Advocate Project was his baby, and he knew the surest hands were his own. Nothing went past Torque around Advocate HQ... but even a secure, responsible leader like himself forgot to close his front door every so often.

Freshly showered and shaved, Torque was changing in his walk-in closet when he heard footsteps approaching him from outside the tight space. “Hello?” he asks, hoping for the best and assuming it was one of his many colleagues looking for him and not, say, a supervillain with an axe to grind... hopefully a figurative one if anything. He already took a literal axe to the back once and would rather not do that again.

Now Dane was just sitting in a dark corner, head in his hands, resting forward on his knees. The noise of approaching footsteps didn’t even make him look up. “Yes. I’m fine. Go away, please.”

“H-hey, tell me something... y-you. And don’t give me any looks, I don’t remember a lot of names, how long did it take you to be able to hold your own around here? Feels like I’ve got a rather large learning curve.”

And yet... 

Granted, a gym like this with super reinforced punching bags made for the perfect training ground for him to practice control, and that was meant to remain the intent of his workout. But the more punches he threw at the empty space, the more aggressive the wind seemed to get as it collided with the bag. Weights rattle in the gym, deafening booms filled the air, and yet he just kept going and going, the force exerted by his fists increasing with every swing.

Did he not like his new costume? Lazav designed it per his specifications, but he had to admit its tightness made the shimmering gold-and-white garment less modest than he would’ve preferred. Maybe the frustration was internal, but that wouldn’t make sense either. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew he was happier than he’s ever been. Perhaps the fact that this knowledge didn’t match his feelings was driving him up the wall. And if that was the case, then he needed the answer to one major question: how is it possible he’s not actually feeling happy?

The answer eluded Ian, causing his anger to reach a fever pitch. With a strangled cry he punches the air harder than before and the bag explodes right as it snaps off the chains. He wasn’t done yet. Ian turns, punching through the air again, the whirlwind of force easily knocking heavy metal equipment over as if they’re weightless. He began to scream and shout, demolishing the gym with his random thrashing, spinning like this confused thoughts were. He was so caught up in his strife that the whirring sound of the door opening made him jump.

Ian’s attention immediately turns just as he was about to deliver another punch. However, when he realized a man was entering, his construed expression quickly turned worried. He was aiming right for the door now! At the last moment, he twists his arm up towards the ceiling. The room trembles as it struggles to contain the final whirlwind he causes, shaking the very foundation of the damaged walls. The roaring quickly dies down, leaving Ian panting and clutching his aching arms while looking dejected. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Are you hurt? I’m so so sorry, I just...” He trailed off looking to the ground with a furrowed brow. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

No matter how many times he tried, Ramón couldn’t seem to figure out how to manifest his flame wings on command. He knew he was still at the very beginning of his training, but that didn’t make it less frustrating, especially when it seemed like everybody around him was in complete control of their gifts. Even in the special (flame-retardant) training space for those with powers like his, he felt insecure and unable to make it work.

Then Ramón hears the loud, vault-like door SLAM behind him, causing the phoenix to turn around and investigate. “Who’s there?” he asks, not realizing those brilliant, fiery wings had finally appeared behind himself, prompted by the arrival of his unexpected guest.