#dispatch 2025

“So… Does Robert actually have a small penis?” The team’s channel erupted into laughter before the man in question’s voice cut through the cacophony like hot iron into soft butter.

“Is that really what’s important to you right now? You’re in the middle of the field, and you’re asking about my dick?” Robert countered with his own question, clearly frustrated. You could practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose through your earpiece while trying desperately to ignore your curiously raunchy question. It wasn't even 10 am yet, and you just couldn't give the man a break. Magma seeps into your veins as you realize the mistake you made by opening your big mouth. Before you’re able to apologize, a voice on the channel clears their throat.

“Ohhh yeah. Tiny. Microscopic, even. He’s smoother than a Barbie doll after it’s sent down the garbage disposal.” Invisigal proudly answered. Voices start to dog-pile over each other to jeer at your curiosity. You feel your face start to get hot and wish you could sink into the spandex of your suit.

“Like a baby’s outie belly button.” 

“ Ugh, 'penis.’ Over here using its government name.”

“Why do you even care, man? What? You got plans later?” 

“No, the real question is, why are you sending Barbie dolls down the garbage disposal in the first place?”

“How much you guys wanna bet it’s smaller than what’s left of Flambé’s eyebrows?” 

“Haha, very funny. Very fuck you. Very I know where you live.” With everyone speaking all at once, it was impossible to tell who was saying what. Regret crept up your spine, and your mind raced to think of a way to quell their comm chatter, but that responsibility was taken from you as Chase took the helm. 

“Shut the fuck up, all of you. What the fuck are you guys? Twelve Fuckin’ years old? Stop fucking talking about fucking dicks and start focusing on your fucking missions, you cock suckers.” He berated. You never thought you’d be thankful to be yelled at by Chase, but as long as it made the team quiet down, you’d take anything you could get. The channel was swiftly silenced, save for the few snarky “Yes, dad”’s that crackled it back to life. Placing your hands in your pockets and red blooming across your face, you walked briskly to the location Robert had sent you to before you decided to ruin the peace of the winter morning with your innocent, little manhood-related question. Worried you made things awkward between you and your dispatcher, you quickly try to think of an apology, but the words fail to connect in your brain.

“I just had to say something,” You sigh, trying to pick up the pace, but your footsteps falter. “‘Hey, Robbie’… Hm. No, that’s too casual, but ‘Hello, Robert’ is way too formal,” You think out loud, stopping to kick a rock in your path. “Fuuuck.” You hiss, dragging your hands down your face.

“Not far now. Turn down this alley.” Robert’s tired voice snaps you out of your apologies-for-dummies 101 session. 

“Hey, are we good?” You ask before you realize the question even left your lips. There’s a beat of silence that digs a horrible pit in your stomach. 

“...What?” Robert asks in an incredulous voice.

“Are we good? About earlier? I’m sorry, man, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You say, lowering your tone, trying to show your guilt through your voice.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, no, don’t worry about it. Plus, you should save your explanation for HR. They’ve already gotten my report on it, so you should be hearing from them soon.”

“HR?! WHAT THE HELL, ROB-”

“Kidding, sorry, kidding. Even if I did say anything, the SDN HR department is completely useless.” He laughs to himself before adding, “But, yeah, seriously, we’re good. Now, can I finish giving you the details, or do you have any more delightful questions for me?”

“No, you bastard.” You mutter as Robert continues to relay your assignment while you try to stop your heart from beating out of your chest. It’s a simple in-and-out job at a jewelry store. Stopping a robbery seems like child’s play compared to half of the assignments you’ve been dispatched to, but working at the SDN, you've learned you can never let your guard down. Maybe, in the chaos, you could slip a little reward into your pocket for a job well done. 

“They were already getting robbed,” you try to rationalize out loud. What’s the harm in swiping an earring or two for some extra pocket cash? You could use the money you pawned to buy Robert a drink to make up for embarrassing both him and yourself in front of the Z-team. “God, I’m so fucking smart.” You whisper and turn the corner out of the alley.

What's good, big dawgs? I've finished my semester in college, so I finally have enough free time to actually post on this blog. I didn't forget about you dawgs, don't worry. I missed you lots, I promise.

Hope you enjoyed the little blurb. It was supposed to be longer and had a completely different plot, but I decided to stick with something a little simpler for my debut post.

See you soon, big dawgs