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I'll still feel the same

This is honestly a mess but i wrote it so might as well post it. Heavily inspired by batman and Jason Todd. English isn't my first language and this is not beta read so if there are any mistakes please let me know.

Sonar x fem!reader

Summary: When you're forced to work at the SDN office while on medical leave, the last thing you expect is for something good to come from it, let alone for that good thing to be an arrogant and cocky bat hybrid.

Word Count: 14.6k

CW: angst, fluff, not really smut but it gets pretty heated, making out, sex fantasy, murder, physical fighting

You really felt like at this point this was some weird form of punishment your father came up with for not only getting seriously injured but also failing a mission. You were used to working solo, with only the occasional help from one of your siblings or maybe a once of team up with another hero if it was needed, and under the cover of the night. So this – sitting in the SDN office building, surrounded by heroes and dispatchers alike – felt like cruel punishment crafted especially for you. If you were allowed to be one of the heroes maybe this wouldn't have been all that terrible, the job is still the job, even if it gets done in a different way.

But no, here you were, a glorified paper pusher, what with the medical leave forced upon you. The injuries weren't even that bad anymore, the long cuts along your abdomen closed up, all the minor cuts and scraps now only faint scars and concussion completely gone. And yet you're still here. For some reason. Your father had said something about wanting someone on the inside, wanting to know how things were developing as the main donor of funds to the Phoenix Program.

He had always been obsessed with the idea of super heroes, leading him to picking up a bunch of orphans, you included, and lucking out in a few of them having powers which made his ambitions of creating his own super heroes easier to achieve.

You were his pride and joy. His ultimate hero creation. You had garnered a lot of control of your powers while living on the street when you were just a child, using them to secure a job cleaning an old theatre in exchange for a place to sleep and some food, until your now father picked you up at 11 years old and took you into his multimillion dollar mansion, turning your whole life upside-down.

Entering people's minds had always exhausted you back then. Scouring them for memories and information you could use to your advantage. Copying and pasting entire minds into your own. Doing it left your own physical body vulnerable, something you learned the hard way when you were still young. It wasn't really like telepathy, you couldn't project thoughts into peoples heads, couldn't speak directly to their mind without entering it first, couldn't manipulate their thoughts, but it did prove itself useful. When your father learned about their full extent, his first words were about how you'd make an excellent spy. Just what he needed.

And now instead of being that perfect spy you idled in an office, reporting back to your father about the progress of the Phoenix Program and the Z-Team, and whether it was a worthy investment. The only positive so far seems to be Blonde Blazers presence. She was the one to convince your father that the program was worth investing into at the start, and along the way she became somewhat of a friend. She was nice. Smart. Connected the dots and figured out that the almost infamous vigilante of sorts running around the city at night and the adoptive daughter of the billionaire she needed for funding were the same person. Not that you made it very difficult. It was a sort of test set up by your father and oldest brother, to see if she was worthy of investing in. And it did make situations like this one a whole lot easier, especially after your friendship blossomed and you got to know Mandy instead of just Blazer.

You groan as you get up from your desk, deciding reminiscing on old memories isn't going to make any of this more bearable as you make your way towards the break room. Coffee would be good right now. And maybe something sweet. A brownie, maybe. Yeah, a coffee and a brownie.

The thought lifted your mood as you opened the door to the break room, only to be immediately brought down again when you see the few members of the Z-team hanging around, most likely on break between dispatches. Prism and Flambae take up the tiny sofa, while Coupe and Malevola sit by the only table in the room, Sonar standing by the vending machine, waiting for whatever he bought to be dispensed. It's not that you hate them, you don't really care about them at all, but being forced to be here kinda makes you hate everything and everyone around by association.

Electing to ignore everyone in the room you make your way to the coffee machine, turning it on and getting out your mug while you wait for it to be done brewing. It feels odd, being surrounded by heroes while not being in costume yourself. It's not even like your costume was flashy or heroic in any way. It was simple. Functional. An all black ensemble made to blend into the night, its main purpose being protecting your body, making movement easy, and storing all the equipment you might need. You missed it. There was a comfort in having it on. Like you were truly yourself, instead of having to play the forever thankful adoptive daughter of a billionaire whenever some media decided to write another article on you and all your siblings, and how lucky you were. You were just glad that you could keep your media appearances to a minimum, only being present in family photographs and at the most important galas when your presence was insisted on. At least that meant your face wasn't recognisable, and you could be here looking like yourself without it causing problems.

“Look at that, little miss supervisor decided to grace us plebeians with her presence." Flambae's mocking tone rings out over the room. You close your eyes and sight, silently cursing Blazer for explaining away your presence as you being there to supervise the progress of the team. Safe to say there wasn't much supervision getting done when you spent the whole day holed up in the tiny office you were so gratuitously given. “Maybe if any of you did something noteworthy I'd have a reason to pay attention.” You mutter under your breath, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into your mug and putting in all the add ons.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he says, standing up and walking towards you, crowding you against the counter in an attempt at intimidation. “ Are you hard of hearing now, too? No wonder all your dispatchers quit, you can't even hear their orders.” you say, tilting your head back slightly because of his proximity to look directly into his eyes. “You little bitch.” he growls, his hand shooting out to grab at you, only for a surprised expression to take over his face when you grab his arm and use his own body weight to push him away. Electing to ignore the stares of everyone else in the room you grab your coffee and leave, leaving your dreams of a brownie behind.

There's a silent pause in the break room after the door closes behind you, before Sonar speaks up, now leaning against the table and opening the twinky the vending machine finally decided to spit out. “I'm telling you, there's absolutely no way a civilian moves like that.” he says while he takes a bite. “So what, you think she's like a retired hero or something? She's like, what, 26? Yeah no. How would one even retire from this job at 26 without some life ending injury which she obviously doesn't have, judging by the way she was just moving.” Malevola muses, a smirk on her face as she watches Flambae get his composure back.

“Who gives a fuck if she's civilian or not, it's not like she does anything anyway. Just sits there in that bitchass office an judges us as if she's fucking better than us.” he grumbles before throwing homself back on the couch. “You're just pissy because she humbled your ass.” Prism jokes kicking him lightly in the shin.

When you get back to your office Blazer is already there, a brilliant smile on her face as she turns to look at you when you walk in. “Mandy.” you close the door, greeting her as you fall into your chair. “Well don't you look like you're having the best of days.” she laughs, sitting on top of the desk.

“I am counting down the days until I can leave. No offence.” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. She looks at you for a moment, blonde hair catching the sunlight coming through the window and making her look like she's glowing. “I get it. You live for it. Being out there in the thick of it, I mean. And you're good at it. It's only natural to get frustrated when you're grounded.” She places a sympathetic hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair slightly. “Stooooop. Mandyyyy.” you whine at her touch, sinking further down in the chair.

“I do think you should try to be more open towards them. They're not as bad as they seem. It might make it easier for you to be here if you were friendly with people.” Mandy chides gently, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear after it fell out of place from her previous teasing. “Whatever you say, mom.” you say, your frown twisting into a small smile you attempt to hide by tilting your head down. “Aren't you supposed to be like, looking for a new dispatcher for those idiots, or something?” you say in an attempt to change the conversation topic, looking back up at her. There was truly something magnetic about her, the way her presence in and of itself radiated heroism and kindness. You always thought she was beautiful, with those sapphire blue eyes that held so much love and kindness, and the blonde hair that fell down her shoulders shimmering like gold in the afternoon sun. “I am, but a little break never hurt anyone.” she shrugs with a smile that you can't help but mirror.

You drink your coffee as you listen to her chat about her day so far, and how unfortunate it is that the Z-team got yet another dispatcher to quit within days, forcing her to search for someone new that would fit the job. It's moments like this where you didn't mind being forced to stick around. Where you could just sit and chat away the time with your friend. By the time Mandy decided to get back to work, standing up from your desk and seamlessly transitioning into her Blonde Blazer persona, your mug had long since been sitting empty of the dusty desk. “Do try to take what I said earlier to heart. I really believe it would help you.” she says with a kind smile as she's walking out of the room before letting the door fall shut behind her.

If there's one thing you know, is that if anyone who knew about your injuries saw you right now, training in a way you definitely shouldn't be in the SDN gym, they would probably tie you down to your bed to make sure you actually rest like you're supposed to. But none of them were here, which meant there was about no one around who would stop you from borderline sprinting on the treadmill while deafening music plays in your earphones. You could say this was the second perk to being stuck here. The unmonitored access to the gym that you definitely should not have.

It was strange, how alive it made you feel to run, to be able to move like this again. It wasn't exactly the same as rooftops, the wind in your hair and the nighttime chill notably absent, but you'd take what you could get. If this was the only available way to get your frustration out, then so be it. It's not like you were actually doing anything productive when you were sitting in your office, so might as well spend the time in the gym.

After 20 more minutes you decided to be done with the treadmill, going over to the bench press instead, loading on the plates before laying down. You take a deep breath, in and out, before lifting, veins starting to glow a faint, eerie green colour. Who knew that you had to train to get used to super strength when it wasn't originally yours. Your brother, the closest one in age to you and coincidentally the one you were closest to, was the one who was born with it. At first your father had been hesitant to go through with it, but with the help of your oldest brother and the basement lab that still gave you chills even after all these years, they had managed to isolate the super strength from your brothers DNA, somehow making it into a creepy green serum that they proceeded to inject into you. It had taken months at the time for your body to adapt to the new power. Muscles breaking down and rebuilding themselves as you were barely able to move around on your own. It was easier now, though, even when the time for the yearly dose came around, the bounce back period had become much shorter than it was back then. The training and adapting was good for something it seems.

The perfect little frankenstein hero. That's what you were at this point, there was really no other way to call it, no matter how bitter the thought tasted. Can't really fault yourself for it, for agreeing and going through with every plan your father has for you. This is what you wanted, after all. When you were 11 and first introduced into this world. There were times where you thought your father was cruel, for collecting orphans to make his own perfect super heros. But then you thought about your 2 sisters and your eldest brother, the ones without any powers, who were still accepted into the family and loved just the same, and you thought that maybe it wasn't actually about the whole hero thing. That, just maybe, it was about giving children a family after all.

The loud music in your ears doesn't let you hear the doors to the gym slide open, but you sense the new presence in the room immediately. Not fast enough though. Not fast enough to safely drop the weights and having the green glow trailing up your arms fade away.

Sonar stands by the door, an almost dumbfounded expression on his face. He had been suspicious about you from the start, not believing it even a bit that you were just some random supposed to supervise their progress. And now as he stared at the faint green glow of your veins where the tanktop you're wearing allows him to see the skin of your arms, his suspicions were proven true. Call it that Harvard graduate intuition if you will.

He watches you yank your earphones out, leaving them dangling around your neck, the music loud enough for his enhanced hearing to be able to pick it clearly, even across the room. “What?” he hears your defensive tone, arms coming to wrap around your stomach as you sit up after putting the weight down fully.

“I fucking knew it.” he says, a smirk forming on his face. He watched your frown deepen, a glare shot in his direction as you got up and started putting the weights back in their place, veins once again glowing faintly as you moved plates heavy enough that no person without super strength could possibly lift them. “You don't know anything.”

“Oh, I don't? Looks pretty clear, if you ask me. Clearly not the civilian you pretend to be. So, which one were you, hmm?” he mocks as he saunters up to where you stand. “Wow, you're so smart! Congratulations! You figured it out! Gold star! Do you want a prize or something?” you turn to him, a condescending smile playing at your lips as you petted his arm in mocking congratulations. He feels the frown form on his face, brows furrowing, clearly disgruntled at the attitude you're giving him back. He shrugs off your hand, brushing off non-existent dust from his suit jacket before he speaks. “Doesn't matter anyway. You were clearly shit if you got yourself landed here.” he knows it's a low blow, but he can't really help himself. It's not his fault that your expression at his baiting is this entertaining.

He can see it in your eyes, even if you do hide it really well. The debate of whether to bite, to give into his baiting and respond or just ignore him. “I'm on medical leave, asshole.” you end up grumbling, pushing past him to gather the hoodie and water bottle you'd left on the floor next to the treadmill. He grins at the new bit of information. Medical leave. So not retired like Malevola theorised. He quickly runs through a list of superheroes he knows have super strength that have been absent from the scene for the past weeks you'd been at SDN, but he still can't place you. Can't remember ever seeing that green glow on anyone before. He knows he's being an asshole now, but once again he can't help himself but push further. “Awwe, little hero got herself hurt? Don't worry we're around to pick up your slack now, without getting put on leave.” he smirks, walking after you as you move to leave the gym, completely forgetting why he went there in the first place in favour of his new entertainment.

“Like any of you'd be able to do my job.” he hears you grumble before speaking louder to make sure he can hear clearly. “Don't you have some cat to rescue from a tree? A grandma to help with groceries? Or whatever chores that SDN sends you out to do?” you click the elevator button, foot tapping impatiently on the floor. Now, that's curious. You think none of them would be able to do what you did, scoffing at the dispatch work the Z-team do. So maybe you weren't your typical SDN hero then. Were from the night shift, dealing with the more serious and violent criminals that came out to play once the sun disappeared behind the horizon? Or were you even SDN at all? You had to be, right? Why else would you be working here while on medical leave if you weren't already a part of the organisation.

You're starting to get seriously pissed off. Not only was your gym session interrupted by a total dickhead, but said dickhead was now following as you wait for the elevator so you could make your way back to your office. Asking stupid questions to make the matter worse. And you, being stupid and frustrated, answered him. Gave him information he shouldn't have.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing no one inside, and you step in, sighing in annoyance when Sonar follows. “What do you want?” you ask in an irked tone, leaning back against the wall of the elevator to look up into his face. He was handsome, for such an asshole. You don't really know how to measure it, no human beauty conventions being applicable to the hybrid, but he just was. Maybe it was the almost cocky self confidence of someone who knew he was smarter than most of the people in the room that he gave off. That self assured energy combined with the suit and tie, and the soft looking gray fur covering his neck and face. One thing you knew for sure is that you should never admit that to him, people like him didn't need their ego to grow bigger than it already was.

“Me? Nothing. Can a man not move freely around his place of employment?” he responds, mirroring your position on the opposite wall. A sigh of annoyance escapes you, and you decide you've had enough of this little back and forth he was insisting on. “Whatever you say.” you mutter out, watching the floor numbers climb. The bright, cool lighting was starting to give you a headache.

There was a slight disappointment that overcame Sonar when you decided to cut the interaction short, but he took the quiet moment as a chance to observe you. The horrid lighting in the elevator highlighted the few faint scars scattered across your face and neck that were almost invisible in the regular lighting of the office. There was something slightly familiar about your face, like he'd seen it in a picture in some business article or something, but he couldn't quite place it. Figuring that out would have to be pushed for later. His lunch break would be halfway through by now, so as the elevator door opened on the right floor and he watched you all but run back to your office, he made his way into the break room where he knew the other Z-team members would be.

“I was right. Yet again. Like always." he gloats as he sits down in a chair and kicks his legs up on the table. “Right about what genius?” Malevola responded, not looking up from her lunch as she pushed Sonar's legs off of the table. “Our dear little supervisor is in fact not a civilian but a hero on medical leave.” he responds in a smug tone. “And how do you know that?” Prism asks, now interested enough in the conversation to look up from her phone, locking it to fully focus on the new information. “Saw her in the gym. She was no match for my irresistible charm and gave up some information. Got super strength. All glowy arms and shit, never seen shit like that before on any hero I can remember.” Sonar replies, taking a quick sip of Malevola's coffee, ducking right as the red-skinned woman attempts to swat him on the head for it.

“Right, right. So we know she's some hero but we don't know which one, and our genius here is too stupid to figure it out. What was the point of all this bullshit again?” Flambae says from the sofa in his usual annoyed tone. The voice of the other Z-team members ring out across the room, everyone feeling the need to state their opinion, the conversation quickly dissolving into something completely unrelated, as it often does.

The day had been pure chaos, as it was bound to be with the Z-team doing their best to scare off another dispatcher. It was exhausting to witness, you couldn't even imagine what being in the midst of it felt like. Coming home to your apartment after work, only to see your fridge empty of any real food certainly didn't help the exhaustion. You had wanted to make something to give to Blonde Blazer at the end of the week, a way to thank her for making your stay at SDN bearable, but the lack of ingredients made it impossible to even think about baking anything.

You decided to walk to the grocery store, wanting to use the fresh air and calm movement as a chance to lift your mood a bit. And it worked, a sense of calm overcoming you as you walked to the grocery store and then as you shopped for everything you needed. You were walking out of the store, bags full of groceries in both hands, when a rushing man bumped into you causing you to drop the bags “Watch where you're going bitch.” the man sneered bitterly at you, taking a step forward in an intimidation attempt. “Watch yourself asshole.” you step towards him fully ready for whatever fight he might want, when someone grabs your arm and drags you backwards, your back hitting their chest. “Walk away dude. Trust me you don't want the trouble.” you hear Sonar's voice right in your ear and you tilt your head back to look at his furry face, his arm still holding you firmly against his chest as the man who bumped into you walked away after throwing another curse your way.

As soon as the man walks away you swirl around, getting yourself out of Sonar's hold and shooting him a glare. “What do you think you're doing? Why the fuck would you do that?” you say in an accusatory voice. “What, stopping you from fistfighting some business bro? Come on, babe, we both know you're better than that.” You're about to argue with him again, but you catch sight of your groceries on the ground. A full carton of eggs completely smashed, a bag of flour torn open and half the content spilled onto the sidewalk, fruit that rolled onto the street getting ran over by the passing cars and the milk carton that broke when it fell, forming a white puddle where it all spilled out. You crouch down quickly, Sonar following immediately, as you try to salvage whatever groceries went undamaged, that being the few dried goods like pasta. “I don't need your help, Sonar.” you say, the exhaustion you thought you had gotten over fully back in, along with slight defeat over how the grocery trip went. “Well take this as me being a good person, part of the villain rehabilitation or whatever bullshit SDN says about us.” he says, gathering the ruined groceries and throwing them in a nearby trashcan. “Come on, let me buy you replacements.”

You give him a suspicious look as you stand up fully. “Look, I don't know what this whole act is about, but keep it up i guess. Keep trying to be a good person or whatever. But Sonar, trust me, I absolutely do not need you to pay for my groceries.” You say with a shake of your head, looking for the receipt so that you can go back into the store to rebuy your destroyed groceries. You walk through the store again, Sonar following after you and snatching the bags from your hands as soon as you're done bagging the newly bought things. “Yet again, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, exasperated. “You won't let me pay for them so I'll carry them home for you.” he responds with an arrogant smirk. “Why are you like this?” you shake your head, deciding you're too exhausted after everything that happened to fight him on whatever weird shit he's up to. Is it suspicious, yes, but you trust yourself enough to not give up any unnecessary information, unlike last time. “Lead the way, boss.” Sonar's cocky voice rings out as you start walking back to your apartment, silently regretting every choice that lead you to this point.

Sometimes Sonar wonders why he even does the things he does. There were no thoughts that went through his head when he saw a man walk into you and ruin your groceries only to try to start a fight. Just an innate need to step in. Maybe it was the SDN rehabilitation program actually working, making a true hero out of him and what not. And because he's a stubborn bastard and he knows it he just has to push his luck. Try to buy your groceries and when that doesn't work insist he'll carry them home for you. He tells himself it's to know more about you, where you live and everything that comes with that. A recon mission if you will, to find hints about what hero you might be. And yeah, maybe it does make him unreasonably happy with himself when you stop fighting him and start leading the way back to your apartment. He tries to make conversation, slyly pry for more information about you, but it seems you've learned from the last encounter and only give him brief noncommittal answers.

You stop walking in front of a big fancy apartment building. Big, fancy and definitely expensive apartment buildings. With a fucking foorman. Sonar didn't exactly know what he was expecting, but this was definitely not it. He can see the conflict happening in your eyes before you relent and glance up at him. “Thank you…. Would you like to… come up for coffee, or something? As a thanks.” the words fight their way out through your grimace, as if you're not even sure why you're saying them in the first place, but he's not gonna look a gift horse in its mouth. This is an opportunity one would be stupid to miss out on, so he agrees in some cocky, flirty way that makes your grimace deepen.

You lead him inside the building and through the lobby with a receptionist desk – a fucking doorman and a receptionist, what the actual fuck – and towards the elevator at the back wall. The ride up to your floor is awkward, but he's too busy looking around the fancy vintage looking elevator to really care. The hallway that leads to your apartment is just as nice, and a part of Sonar can't really comprehend the situation he ended up in. So not only are you secretly a hero, you're also absolutely fucking loaded. What the fuck are you even doing at SDN if you have money to live in a building like this.

You push the door to your apartment open after unlocking it, a dark wooden thing, and step inside, Sonar following dutifully. The first though that runs through his head is that this place is fucking huge, way too big for only one person. Filled with obviously vintage and antique furniture, every mismatching piece working perfectly together to create a warm and lived in atmosphere. The place has a soul, there's so much life in every inanimate object. You've already taken your shoes off and hung your jacket on the hook when you look back at him and ask if he's okay. He snaps out of his disbelief and toes his own shoes off, watching as you take the bags from him to put them in the kitchen. “Um, make yourself comfortable. I'll just put these away and then I'll bring you your coffee.” you say in that same unsure voice from before, and Sonar can't help but find your nervousness cute.

What the fuck. What the fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the actual fuck are you doing. Why the fuck did you invite him inside. What is wrong with you, you know better than this. It's like a mantra repeating itself in your head as you put away your groceries and put on the coffee machine, watching from the corner of your eye as Sonar walks around your living room, observing your bookcases and the piano in the corner of the room. This was such a bad idea.

“You play piano?” you hear him call out. “A little. I did as a kid, at least.” you respond, pouring coffee into mismatched mugs and carefully carrying them into the living room, placing them on the mahogany coffee table. “Typical rich kid shit.” he jokes, shaking his head as he sits down on the muted green sofa, taking one of the mugs. “You say that as if you don't look the part more than I ever did.” you shake your head, a slight fondness shining through your apprehensiveness. “Ah well, you gotta play the part of what you aspire to become, babe.” he exclaims, cocky persona coming back into the forefront. “Sooo, you're aiming for a very disliked politician, or?” you say, a teasing grin making its way onto your lips as you take your own mug and make yourself comfortable on the other end of the sofa. Sonar makes an offended noise, his expression quickly turning to match yours after taking a look at your teasing smile peaking out from behind the coffee mug.

“Oh, didn’t realise you had this kind of game, babe.” he jokes, leaning further back into the sofa. A realisation comes over you as you laugh, that you haven’t even properly introduced yourself to him. So you give him your name, holding out your hand for him to shake after a second. He repeats it in a musing tone, the everpresent smirk making its way back onto his face, his ears twitching. “Well, I’m Victor.” You smile slightly, repeating it in a soft tone. “Victor… It suits you.” “Of course it does, it’s ‘cause I’m always victorious.” His arrogant cockiness elicits a full on laugh out of you, and he can’t help but let out his own chuckle.

The time seems to pass by as if sped up, and soon enough the sun starts setting and you’ve transitioned from coffee to wine, and from the living room into the kitchen as you cook dinner for the two of you, Victor helping out by chopping vegetables. It’s strange, how easy and quick it is to feel comfortable around him. How the conversation flows so naturally. How he elicits laugh after laugh from you. And maybe you’ve had enough wine to make you tipsy, and that’s making you more relaxed and keeping your guard down, but it all feels so nice you don’t really care anymore. Because ever since you’ve been adopted by your father, being a hero has been the only important thing. No time for friends or relationships or interacting with pretty much anyone outside of the family, which was limited in and of itself, with your oldest sister busy with your fathers businesses, your eldest brother a doctor and scientist spending all day working in the lab hidden underneath your house, and your younger sister obsessed with her social media career which seems to take up every second of her day. The most casual interactions you had up to this moment were with your other brother, and with him also having been made into a vigilante hero by your father it was easy to relate to each other. Later on also came Blazer, with her brilliant smiles and positive attitude.

But this, this felt different. Fresh, unexplored territory. Something between the start of a friendship and flirtation. And it keeps happening. At first maybe once a week, and then transitioning into almost every day. It’s coffee and wine. Pasta and cookies. Hands on your hips and a breath on the back of your neck as Victor passes behind you in your dimly lit kitchen, and a deep laugh whenever you say something unfunny. And maybe you start smiling a bit more. And maybe going into the SDN office is no longer dreadful, even if you barely speak to each other while at work, only exchanging occasional glances and smiles. And maybe the other members of the Z-team don’t quite get on your nerves quite as much anymore, even getting a laugh out of you every now and then. And maybe even Blazer notices, but decides not to comment on it.

You’re in a curious mood as you make your way into the SDN building in the morning, two take out coffees in your hands. Mandy had texted you in the middle of the night, when both of you knew the other should have been asleep, and told you about some guy she met that she hired as the new dispatcher for the Z-team, after they had gotten yet another one to quit. Your eldest brother had called you in the morning as you were getting ready to notify you that with the way your injuries were healing you'd be allowed back out within a week or two. He had always been a fantastic doctor, so you trusted that the shortest estimate would be the true one.

So maybe you had a little pep in your step as you stepped out of your car and crossed the parking lot to get into the office, but who could really fault you after the excellent news. A week and you'd be free from this place. A dream come true really, even if being here had stopped feeling as awful as it initially did. You can’t help it that you basically live for those nights spent on the rooftops and stopping crime in this city. Even the elevator ride up to your floor is spent in blissful solitude.

You've been sitting in your office for 30 minutes, sipping your coffee after having given the other one to Sonar when you had passed him in the hallway, before Blazer came in. “Good morning! Don't you look like you're in a good mood!” she greets you cheerfully. “I'd hate to be the one to ruin it, but I do have a new dispatcher I'd like you to meet.” A sigh leaves you as you stand up and gulp down the rest of your coffee. “Lead the way, boss.” you joke, following her out of the room and to the cubicle the new dispatcher is getting set up in.

“Robert.” Blazer calls out, making a skinny brunette look up from his computer before she introduces you. “She's here to temporarily supervise the progress of the Phoenix Program and the Z-team. Nothing for you to worry about, really.” she explains with a smile. “Nice to meet you.” Robert says in a pretty flat voice, holding out a hand for you to shake. The realisation crashes over you quickly as you shake his hand. Because you know that voice. It might have been a couple months since you heard it, but you know it. You've collaborated with Mecha Man on enough odd jobs to recognise him by voice alone, and this guy is definitely Mecha Man. You file the information away for later, keeping your face passive as you cut the introductions short, saying something about having to get back to work as you retreat back to your office. Making sure to close the door and that no one is around to eavesdrop, you take out your phone, selecting your fathers number as you drop down into your chair and bring the phone up to your ear. It takes a couple rings before he picks up.

“I hope you have a very good reason for interrupting my meeting.” he says cooly. “Good morning to you too. If you're that busy I'll just call Michael instead.” you respond, knowing a conversation with your eldest brother would have been much more pleasant. “Say what you have to say, child. I don't have all day." There's a deep sight that comes through the phone speaker, and you can imagine how he's rubbing his eyes with his fingers, already fed up. Either someone on the company board or one of your siblings must have annoyed him pretty badly this morning, if he's getting irritated this easily. “Right. Right. Well, I do have a rather curious piece of information. You know our dear friend Mecha Man? Who's been practically missing since he got blown up, the poor guy. Yeah, well, turns out he's now working as a dispatcher for the Z-team over here at SDN. Don't really know why just yet, but I figured you'd like to know.” The silence on the other side stretches on enough for you to bring the phone away from your ear to check if the call has disconnected. “Father? Hello?” another sigh comes through. “Who else knows about this?” his tone sounds tired, almost exasperated, as if he very much did not need yet another thing on his mind. “My best guess is Blonde Blazer. I wouldn't be surprised if that's the reason she hired him.” you explain, swirling lazily in your chair. “Good. Keep it that way. Find out if anyone else knows. We don't need this kind of information to spread around, god knows it would only create problems. And find out what's been going on with Mecha Man, there's surprisingly little information we were able to find about anything after the explosion incident.” he says in a final tone, leaving no room for anything but compliance. “Right. I'll report back anything I find.” you say quickly before hanging up.

A sigh escapes you. Mecha Man as the new Z-team dispatcher. That's sure to be interesting. At least you know he won't be as easy for the team to break as all the previous ones. If there's one thing about him that you remember well it's his unwavering determination. He won't let them get to him just to spite them. At least if he's anything like you remember.

You spend the first few hours of work doing some paperwork, most of which not related the your “job” at SDN, but some old mission reports, follow ups and villain profiles that need updated information added to them, sending any complete ones back to your eldest brother for him to put it into the database at home. Occasionally, you take a walk around the office, going to the restroom and getting a drink becoming an excuse to see how Robert is doing. He seems to be holding up pretty well, despite the obviously exhausted and fed up look on his face. You decide to make use of your good mood and drop off a cup of coffee on his desk, getting met with a surprised look that turns into a small smile and a soft thanks.

You decide to heat up your lunch before lunch break officially starts, wanting to avoid the chaos that the break room turns into. The tupperware is filled with leftover pasta with spinach, chicken and cherry tomatoes you made the last time Sonar was over at your apartment, steam rising from it as you bring it back to your office to eat. Your plans for a calm lunch get interrupted just as the break actually starts and Sonar walks in without knocking, his usual cocksure attitude borderline radiating off of him but softening slightly as he gets his sight on you after closing the door. “Look at you. Good day?” he says as he sits down on top of your desk – which seems to be the only place people who visit you in your office want to sit even if you have not one but two extra chairs they could use – and rips open the twinky he brought with him and all but shoves it into his mouth. “You could say so. Maybe I’m just happy I’m not on the receiving side of the bullshit you guys are putting Robert through.” you smile before taking a bite of your lunch.

As you're chewing a hand comes up to your face, gripping your chin while a thumb wipes a bit of sauce from the corner of your lips. It makes your brain pause, heart stuttering as you blink a few times, unable to fully understand what's happening. It certainly doesn't help that when you look up at him you see him licking the bit of sauce off of this thumb. Goddamn flirty bastard. Heat gathers in your cheeks, and for a moment you regret the time you mentioned your lack of friends or relationships to him casually over drinks. Now he's using it to his advantage, being the smug asshole he never lets you forget he is. “Mhh, that's good. That the one you made two days ago?” he asks as if he doesn't know, looking down at where you're sitting and smirking at your stunned, bashful expression. “You know it is, asshole.” you say, voice slightly breathy with a nervous laugh, only causing his smirk to widen.

“So, I was actually thinking-” Sonar starts. “Oh no, that's dangerous.” you cut him off with a laugh. “Shut up.” he gives a playful glare before continuing. “Anyway, I was thinking, you know, if you're not busy tonight, we could hang out? Maybe?” it's almost cute, now he seems slightly nervous to ask under all of his bravado. It's almost like he knows asking outright might scare you away, that you're still not quite sure how any of this works or is supposed to work. “I actually have a little thing I need to go to tonight. For my dad.” you can see him deflate a little, trying to make it unnoticeable. “But I could leave early, if you wanted to come over a bit later?” He responds with a smile, holding back some smart ass comment that never gets to make its way out because he gets interrupted by the door opening and Blazer peaking her head into the room. “Oh! Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt!” her voice sounds genuinely apologetic. “It's fine. I was leaving anyway.” Sonar says, waving her off as he stands up, straightening out his suit before leaving the room, shooting you one last look accompanied by that infuriating smirk as he closed the door behind him.

“Soooooo… I see you're making friends.” A teasing smile forms on Blazers face as she walks up, for once using one of the other available chairs. “Don't even start.” you say, shoving more pasta into your mouth to distract yourself from the heat still present in your cheeks.

The rest of the day had gone as usual. You had left early to get ready for the charity gala your father was co-hosting and had made the attendance of you and all your siblings mandatory. He liked having you in places like this, it’s how you started out, going into the minds of potential investors or business partners and scouring their memories for any sign of ulterior motives. It was exhausting, and after years you'd had to limit how much you did it. There's only so much of other peoples minds you could copy and paste into your own before it starts taking up too much space and you start losing yourself. The gala dragged on, flutes of champagne, glasses of wine and the table with seemingly never ending appetizers the only thing making the countless conversations you were forced into bearable. You had texted Victor on your way to the gala, letting him know you had left a key to your apartment at the reception desk for him, and that he could come over whenever he wanted even if you weren't back yet.

You were starting to feel tipsy from all the champagne. Another older woman pulled you into a conversation, praying about potential fiancées and marriage and trying to set you up with her son who was at least 10 years older than you when you told her there wasn't anyone at the moment. You subtly laughed her off, leaving the conversation with an excuse of using the restroom before making your way over to your brother.

Daniel had always been big, super strength possibly having something to do with that, so finding him in the crowd took all but 2 seconds. He was surrounded by other people around your age, some guys trying to befriend him and girls ogling him, one resting her hand on his bicep. Your footsteps were quiet even with the heels, they always were. “Danny.” you said, standing right behind him, starting everyone in the group except for your brother. “A second?” Something almost like relief came over his face but vanished just as quickly as he shrugged off the girl's hand and took a step towards you, earning you a glare from said girl. You only rolled your eyes, walking further away to get some semblance of privacy. “Thank fuck you're here. They're like piranhas, I swear. Getting sent by their fucking parents to play nice and make friends, make connections as if they'll get any benefit fro. it. It's not like dad gives a shit about my opinion on company shit, not that i even have any, so they're wasting their fucking time.” Frustration drips from his tone as he runs a hand through his already messy hair. “Yeah, whatever, send them Charlotte's way or something, they're gonna love the social media stuff if they're this desperate. Danny I'm leaving. Tell father I went home if he asks.” You say, shaking your head in an attempt to clear it from the tipsy daze. “Might have to do that. And yeah don't worry about it. Free yourself while you can.” He says, already walking backwards to go back to his dreadful company.

The car ride back to your apartment is calm and quiet, the driver dropping you off right at the entrance to your building. When you open the door to your apartment, you see the pair of black dress shoes already lined up by the wall, a smile forming on your face as Victor's figure approaches you. He's shed his suit jacket, leaving him in the white button up with the top two buttons undone and a loosened red tie, a bit of the fur making its way down his chest peeking out. “Hey. Look at you all dolled up.” he greets with a teasing smile, offering a hand to help you keep your balance as you take your heels off. “Hi. I hope you weren't waiting too long. I couldn't find an opportunity to leave.” You laugh slightly, not caring about lining up your heels after getting them off, simply making your way to the sofa a plopping down, Victor following a step behind, eyes seemingly unable to leave your figure. “Nah, don't worry about it.”

Victor feels like he's losing his mind. He'd been waiting for just short of an hour, sitting on your couch and just checking his stocks and crypto, and then you came in. Looking like an absolute dream. A long, black dress hugging your body, hair done to absolute perfection and slightly smudged makeup making your eyelids sparkle in the dim lighting. All of it just slightly messy from being worn. Fuck, he did not need to he reminded of all the less then friendly dreams he'd been having, not when you were obviously less than sober.

“I'm gonna go take all of this off.” You say, getting up from the sofa and walking over to your bedroom. He really did not need the imagery of that. It takes you maybe 2 minutes before you call out for him again. “Victor? Could you help?” He sighs, telling himself to calm the fuck down as he pushes the door to your bedroom open, seeing you struggling to reach the zipper at the back of your dress. “I can't reach. Could you zip it down?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder. “Sure.”

You move your hair out of the way for him, inadvertently giving him access to your neck. He wants to bite it. Leave a trail of pretty bruises. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about it, but all of this is just too intimate. You've told him how unsure you were about all of this, how you didn't really know how to make friends or how a friendship is really supposed to look, let alone a romantic relationship, once when you had drunk enough wine to bring your guard down. He remembers that night, how you looked in the dim lighting, clad in a soft sweater and wrapped in a blanket, sitting on your couch while some movie played in the background.

Now here he is, zipping down your dress and trying to act like this is normal, like he doesn't have the images from his dreams flashing through his mind and like his slacks aren't starting to feel a bit too tight. You underneath him, soft and pliant, looking at him with those pretty glassy eyes full of trust, kissing his fingers when they pull your lips. Or you on top of him, hands carding through the fur trailing down his chest while his play with your breasts, your hips moving in a way that makes him lose his mind. God he needs to get a hold of himself. He might be an asshole but he promised himself he wouldn't push further than you were ready for.

He unzips your dress fully and the straps fall down your shoulders. You quickly hold it against your chest to keep it from sliding down to the floor. He can see the back of the lacey black bra you're wearing and has to swallow the saliva that's welling in his mouth. This is what he gets for being patient. Constant fucking teasing, even when you don't realise you're doing it. “There you go. All done.” He mutters, hands lingering on your back. You turn your head and shoot him that sweet smile. “Thanks.” He smiles back, he can't really help himself. You're getting a change of clothes out of your wardrobe and he leaves the room, going back to the sofa and rubbing his face with his hands.

You come back a few minutes later, changed into a cat printed beige sweater, a pair of gray sweatpants and some fluffy socks. Hair brushed out and rubbing your face with a cotton pad to take off your makeup. “Would you like something to eat? I honestly don't have the energy to make anything and I ate so many apps I might just throw up, but I could order you something?” you ask, checking yourself in a mirror to make sure your makeup is fully off before throwing away the now dirty cotton pad. “It's fine.” Victor shrugs, leaning further into the couch. You sit down on the other end, kicking his thigh lightly with a socket foot. “Come on. I feel bad. I left you waiting for way longer than I planned to so let me at least get you something.” you say, head leaning against the back of the sofa as you keep poking him with your foot. “Fine, fine. You can get us a pizza if you're so insistent.” He relents, grabbing the foot that's poking him and starts mindlessly stroking the sole. You give a victorious smile before reaching for your phone to place the order.

The atmosphere is calm, intimate, and Victor feels content. “Do you want something to drink?” you keep your voice quiet, looking at him so softly while he strokes your foot. “Mhhh. I could go for something. You still got the usual one?” He knows you have a pretty fancy wine collection. You said your father sends them over whenever you ask. You've given him a bunch to try, and even though most of them taste pretty similar he did end up having a favorite the two of you always resorted to at the end of the night. “I can check.” He lets go of your foot and you get up, walking over to your kitchen and he follows, just a step behind. You end up finding the bottle, filling two glasses and passing one to him. He takes it as well as the bottle and moves back to the sofa.

You drink your wine slowly, a result of already having had alcohol earlier in the evening. Victor drinks his faster, refilling his glass twice in the time it takes you to finish one. You're close now, having put on some pretty looking movie and moved closer and closer during it. You're looking at him now, instead of at the tv. Your hands weave into the fur on his neck and he holds back a groan. “You're so pretty, Victor.” He shakes his head slightly, putting his hand on your cheek. “You're prettier.” You scoot even closer, and he pulls you on top of his lap, one hand resting on your hip to keep you in place, the other still on your cheek, thumb stroking softly underneath your eye. “Not possible.” Your face is close now, he can feel your breath on his snout. He wants to give up all his self control. He might.

You lean closer, and he tilts his head a little. And he can feel his self control and all the rules he set up for himself disappear when you place a kiss on his snout, so unsure about how to do it properly with his hybrid physiology. The hand on your cheek grips your chin and he moves your face so that he can kiss you properly. Your lips are warm, a soft laugh breaking through but you don't pull away, you press closer. One of your hands rests on his chest, gripping his shirt, while the one that was on his neck has now moved to his cheek, intertwined in the fur there.

It's all so soft, he's not really used to it, making out is usually just some kind of foreplay, just heat and sharpness that's supposed to lead to sex. But this is different. Sure there's heat, but it's more like a warmth. Just intimate, warm and soft. It's being done just for the sake of kissing you, of touching you. And sure Victor would love for this to lead into sex, but staying just like this is good too. Just this is perfect.

You're kissing Victor. You're sitting in his lap, with him holding you to keep you there, and you're kissing him. Borderline making out with him. A part of you is panicking, because this is not a step in your friendship/relationship/flirtation you were expecting or even fully ready for. But oh it just feels so nice, with his hands on your body, your lips against him, his tongue parting them and working against yours. There's heat in your stomach and your hand that's been gripping his shirt trails down his chest and makes its way underneath the material, desperate for a touch of his skin. The groan that leaves him makes goosebumps form on your skin.

In the background you can hear your front door opening and closing, a call of your name ringing through the apartment. “Are you in here?” You pull away from Victor, panting as you look at him with wide eyes. “Shit.” you breathe out, scrambling off of him and running over to the front door. “Danny. What are you doing here?” you say, completely breathless, standing in a way that's attempting to block Victor from your brother's view. “Got fed up with the fucking gala and figured I'd come hang out with you. Why are you breathing like that? Why- oh. OH. You totally have a guy over, don't you? Let me see.” Daniel pushes past you, leaving you sputtering behind him as you run to stop him.

What Victor is definitely not expecting after you all but leap off of him is for a 6’5, very muscular guy to stride into the living room, you running behind him in panic. Danny, you called him. The guy looks him up and down before looking back at you with raised eyebrows. “Um, Victor, this is Danny, my brother. He's gonna be leaving now and he's very sorry for showing up uninvited.” His confusion must be obvious because you give him a quick reassuring smile before pushing your brother back towards the door and out of his view.

“You know that is definitely not what I was expecting from you.” Danny says while you're pushing him. “You need to go.” You reply. “Look, I'm happy for you. You look happy. But just be careful. You know that if dad finds out about this he isn't gonna be happy, and I don't want to see you hurt.” The concern on his face makes you stomach churn. “What father doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, as long as I do my job there won't be a problem. Now go, please.” Danny gives you one last sceptical look before finally leaving. You close the door behind him and lean against it with a sigh before going back into the living room.

“I'm so, so, so sorry about him. He's used to me never having anyone around so it was never really a problem for him to show up unannounced and-” Victor stands up walking up to you quickly and pressing his mouth back against yours, effectively shutting you up. “Don't worry about it.” He says before his mouth is back on your and he's pushing you up against the wall. You push lightly at his chest until he parts from you again. “Are you sure? Because-” This time his head dips into your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nips that make you gasp. One hand grips your hip, the other making its way under your sweater and stopping on your ribs with his thumb resting on your breast. Your own hands start unbuttoning his shirt until you have full access to his bare chest. You grip his tie, pulling him even closer to you, while your other hand tangles in the fur that trails down the middle of his chest and disappears into his pants. It's all too much and not enough at the same time.

This time, it's your phone ringing that interrupts, and Victor lets out an annoyed groan, resting his forehead on your shoulder. You pet his head apologetically before pulling away to answer. “The pizza is here.” you say with an awkward smile, watching as he throws his head back with a sigh and shrugs his shoulders.

You spend the weekend alone, staying home and replaying the events of friday night in your head. You and Victor never did end up going any further after you got the pizza, just sitting on your sofa and eating it while watching a movie, only this time you were cuddled up and you could feel the occasional kiss on your head and nip on your shoulder.

When you go into work on monday you pack up your entire hero suit, putting it in your car, deciding that having it on hand now that you're close to being cleared for the field might be useful. The day is going great, somehow no one bothers you or gets on your nerves. At the beginning of lunch Blazer comes into your office. “Hi. How's your day going?” She says after she closes the door, not making a move to sit down. “It's alright. How's yours?” You respond, looking at her suspiciously at her odd behaviour. “Good. It's good. Listen, me and Robert had a talk this morning, and we decided that the Z-team needs to be sent a message. Something to make them start taking this seriously. We decided that at the end of the day we're gonna cut whoever's ranked lowest on the leader board.” While her voice sounds sure and professional, her stance is reluctant, and you can tell that she really did not want to resort to this option. “Oh. Well, alright then. I didn't really think you'd ever go that far. I know how much all of this means to you.” You stand up, walking up to her and placing a comforting hand on her arm. “Yeah. I guess. I just wanted to tell you since, you know, you've been kinda becoming friendly with them so I wanted you to know before it happened.” You give her a soft smile in response.

You don't expect to hear at the end of the day that Sonar was the one who got cut.

You also don't expect for Victor to go completely off the grid and not to hear from him for days.

The past eleven days had gone absolutely horribly. Victor was not responding to any of your worried texts or calls, so in the end you give up trying. Robert had somewhere along the way revealed his identity as Mecha Man to the Z-team, which got you a lecture from your father on not being able to follow a simple order, as if there was any reasonable way you could've stopped him from giving away the introduction when he barely knew you. Blonde Blazer had tried to insist that you should attend the house warming party the Z-team had planned for Robert when you had absolutely no business being there, so you lied and told her you'd be there. The dejected look she gave you the next day made you feel even worse than you already were. Michael was all but refusing to clear you for field work. And SDN was so swamped with dispatches that the stress of it all lived in the air of the building. You started to bring the bag with your suit into your office, just in case of an emergency.

Now it's another friday, and the office is in shambles. The calls are coming in at a faster rate than manageable, forcing even Blonde Blazer to go out. You can see the tension in the shoulders of every dispatcher around. The Red Ring is wrecking havoc around the city, and the heroes getting dispatched barely even have the time to rest between calls. It's too much. So when a call about an unknown number of hostages being held in some theatre comes in, and there's not a single hero that's free or could make it there in time, you don't really think about it too much.

Putting on your suit again feels like coming back to life. Like finally being yourself after so long. And as you put on the domino mask over your eyes and the metal mouthpiece over the over half of your face, you remember why you live for this. You leave your office with a purpose, walking up to the cubicle where a stressed out Robert is trying to find someone to send out to help and place a hand on his shoulder, the other already putting in the comms earpiece in your ear. He looks back at you, startled, a look of recognition flashing over his face. “What's the location, Mecha Man?” Robert locks in instantly, connecting you to the Z-team comms and guiding you to the theatre.

As you’re jumping over the rooftops, you turn on your own comms connecting you back to the lad and your eldest brother. “Home base? Come in?” The other side crackles to life and you can hear the annoyance and confusion in Michael's voice before he even speaks. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” “Look, there’s no time to explain right now. I need you to connect yourself up to the SDN comms so you and Mecha Man can hear each other. Shouldn’t be much of a problem for you.” He sighs at your complete ignoring of his question and does as you asked. You switch back to the SDN comms. “I got you some help, Robert.” you say, the roof of the theatre now coming into view. You tune out the two of them introducing themselves to each other and your brother's not so subtle digs at your decisions, stopping at the roof of the neighbouring building and hiding behind an ac unit. “I need eyes inside.” You say after turning on the setting on your mouthpiece that stops your voice from being heard outside of the comms. They both hack the cameras inside the building and you set your focus on the one man with a rifle standing on the roof of the theatre, guarding the roof top entrance. “You’ve got seven men inside the theatre, two in the lobby, one roof. All armed. 23 hostages, tied up in the theatre room on the floor in front of the stage.” Your brother’s voice now sounds exactly like it does on any other job. Professional, focused. The only thing that matters is helping people, any personal feelings can come later. “5 of them are children." Robert's voice comes through, and you take a deep sight to clear your head. “Alrighty. Let’s get to work then.” You say before standing up.

You jump onto the rooftop of the theatre, footsteps completely silent as you make your way behind the man guarding the door. It takes all but 5 seconds before your arm is around his neck, cutting off his airways. He tries to struggle, but your other hand rips the rifle out of his hands and throws it across the floor before punching him in the stomach, causing him to buckle over, eventually passing out from the lack of air. You quickly tie him up, making sure he has no way of getting his weapon back if he does happen to come back to consciousness, before making your way inside the theatre. You can hear the shouts of the armed men inside the theatre room aimed at the scared hostages as you silently get rid of the two men in the lobby, giving them a similar treatment to the one on the roof.

When you're done you make your way up to the rafters, climbing up and finding a spot to sit and observe the situation. 7 armed men and 23 hostages is not a situation to go into blindly. You situate yourself in a spot and make sure you won’t be spotted or fall off, before putting all your focus on the one man who looks like the leader in the situation. The feeling of your consciousness leaving your body starts subtle, before crashing over you like a wave and you find yourself standing inside the mind of the man.

You found out very early on in your life that no mind looks the same. They’re all different types of mazes, filled with memories and feelings. This one is the same in its uniqueness. Shelves upon shelves filled with memories forming an impossible to navigate network the man's entire life. You have enough experience to know to keep your head down, to not look at any of the memories until you find the section you’re looking for, because all it takes is one look for it and all the information it contains to be ingrained into your own mind. Time flows differently inside the mind than outside. It’s so much slower but feels so much quicker. You know from previous experiences that it takes you about 30 seconds in the real world to know a person's entire mind when they don’t put up any resistance. Looking for a specific memory can take a bit longer, but since what you’re looking for is recent it shouldn’t take too long to find.

When you do find the right shelf, your heart breaks a bit at what you see. Because there, in one of the memories of the planning of this hostage situation, is Sonar. He looks tired, a metal collar around his neck as he points out small flaws in the original plan. You look away, not being able to look at him. When you do, your eyes land on another memory and a part of you panics. You quickly leave the man's mind, the world around you fading back in as you speak into the comms. “There’s a bomb. None of them know how to disable it.” A sliver of the panic you feel can be heard in your voice, and you hear the sharp inhale Robert takes and a sigh from your brother. There’s a second of silence before Robert speaks. “Get the hostages out first. Then we see what we can do.” You nod despite him not being able to see, and start getting to work. You make your way to the breaker box you saw in the hallway leading to the roof top and turn off all the lights in the building. The shouting of the man gets louder as they start to panic. With 7 men in the room, the most reasonable option is to pick them off quietly and quickly. Killing any of them isn’t the favorable way to do it, but if you’re left with no other choice then so be it.

The first 2 are easy, a hard enough press on their neck and a few broken limbs have them dropping unconscious rather quickly. You can feel the blood in your veins rushing, knowing their glowing that brilliant green underneath your suit and gloves. The third one makes a noise loud enough to alert the others, and you give up on doing this quietly, knocking hard on his head with the back of one of your knives until he drops like a ragdoll before you yourself drop too in order to avoid the bullets that are now being blindly shot in your direction. You crawl towards the man closest to you as stealthily as you can, stopping right behind him before you take your knife out again and slash both of his achilles tendons, causing him to fall to the floor with a painful wail as blood pools. It’s his fault really, for wearing sneakers instead of boots while doing something like this. Amature. You push away his weapon before climbing on top of him and choking him until he too passes out. Three more to go.

You run at another man, jumping onto his back and yanking one of his arms back until it dislocates, at the yell of pain one of the other men shoots in your direction, hitting him in the chest and leg. The lights come back on, one of them must have run out to the breaker box and you can see him entering the room again with his rifle aimed at you. This is getting too messy. You’re putting the hostages in danger. You throw the shot man onto the ground and dive in between the seats lining the room in front of the stage. They can’t shoot you if they don’t know where you are, and now at least they’ll be shooting away from the direction of the hostages. “Two rows in front of you, about twelve seats to your left” Roberts voice comes through the comms, giving you the location of one of the two men left. You crawl under the seats, careful not to be spotted. You stand up right behind the leader, and after a second of contemplation, you decide there’s no time anymore, you don’t know how close the bomb is to going off exactly but it’s close enough. You snap his hand with one quick move. The last man looks at you horrified and you stare back at him. “I’ll give you one chance.” You say in a low voice, and he doesn’t even think about it before he runs out of the theatre, probably right into the arms of the police stationed outside.

As soon as he’s gone you run over to the hostages, cutting their restraints and rushing them outside, making the capable ones drag the unconscious bodies of the men out with them. When you get to the last one, a man maybe in his 30s, you stop him for a second. “ Tell the police to move everyone as far away from the building as possible. There's a bomb in here. Go!” You can see the panic in his eyes when you push him towards the door and he starts running out.

It takes you a minute to find the bomb, using the memory you saw to guide you to where it’s hidden behind the curtain on the stage amongst an amalgamation of props. The timer shows 1 minute and is actively counting down. “I don't really know what to do here. There's some wires sticking out but it's not like anything I've seen before.” You say into the comms. “Give me a visual.” Micheal replies, and you use the watch on your wrist to take a few pictures from different angles, as many as you can without touching the bomb, before sending them to him. 35 seconds. “What the actual fuck even is this.” he mutters under his breath. “What the fuck.” This time it’s Robert that says it, and you assume Michael shared the pictures with him. 20 seconds. “You need to get the fuck out of there. There’s no time for me to even think about what I'm looking at. Just run.” The tension and stress in your brother's voice is obvious, and you don’t hesitate before standing up and making your way out as fast as you can.

You make it off the stage and to the door at the back of the theatre room before the blast throws you through it.

There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears, the blast having broken the comms completely. Your head is pounding, vision and hearing fading in and out. you hit it pretty hard. You can’t move your limbs. There’s something pinning your legs down, but you can’t really feel the pain. The sliver of consciousness you have left hopes that’s just the adrenaline at work. After a few minutes you can hear snippets of shouts. Your vision has gone completely black, and the dust from the rubble the explosion caused is making it hard to breathe. You must have broken your mouth piece. The air filters in it would normally prevent that from happening. You always knew you’d die doing this job. You lived for it, it’s what made you feel the most yourself and the most alive ever. So it was always a reasonable conclusion. Something you made your peace with. But now as it’s happening you can’t help it but be scared. Can’t help but wish that you were anywhere else. That you could be on your couch, only half listening as Victor talks about his stocks and some crypto stuff because you think he looks so pretty when he talks about something he’s passionate about only to have him throw a pillow at you when he realises you’re not paying attention, causing you to laugh.

You don’t see whoever comes to a stop besides you, but you can feel their presence right before consciousness leaves you for good.

Sonar hadn’t planned for the building to actually explode. It’s not his fault that the goons Shroud put on this are absolutely incapable of following instructions. He knows some hero made it to the scene, he saw the hostages run out unharmed, a few of them dragging unconscious bodies behind them before the police quickly took over from where he was standing on a nearby roof. He saw how everyone was rushed away from the building after the last hostage ran out and shouted about the bomb. And he saw the firefighters rush in as soon as the dust from the explosion started to settle.

His blood froze in his veins when he saw the unconscious figure being carried out on the stretcher and rushed into an ambulance. It was hard to see, but the broken mouthpiece revealed a sliver of a face he would recognize even with his eyes closed. No. No, no, no. Fuck. It’s you. You’re the fucking hero they sent. You’re the hero saying unconscious and looking closer to death than he’s comfortable admitting. He did this to you.

Your head is pounding. You can feel the warmth around you, the softness of your clothes and the blanket covering you. The room is quiet except for the hum and beeping of whatever machines you’re hooked up to. It takes you a few minutes to force your eyes to open and you’re met with the sight of your childhood room. The one in your fathers house. Your bed is surrounded by medical machines and equipment that belongs either in a hospital or the lab in the basement. At least the room is a comforting sight. Soft colors and posters covering the walls, old plushies lined up on the windowsill and the sofa underneath it, the same way they used to be when you were young. The glow in the dark stars still stuck on the ceiling.

The door to the room creaks open quietly and your older sister, Iris walks in. Her eyes widen when she sees yours are open. “Oh. Hi, sleepy head. Welcome back to the world of the living. You gave us all quite a scare.” She keeps her tone soft as she sits down on the edge of your bed and gently strokes your head. “We moved you home from the hospital as soon as it was okay. Figured you would be much more comfortable in your own bed with how many bones you had broken.” She gives you a sad but relieved smile. “I’m gonna go get Michael so he can get all these tubes out of you, okay honey? Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” She places a soft kiss on the crown of your head before walking out of the room. She’d been a very dualistic person for as long as you can remember. A caring older sister when with you and your siblings, and a cutthroat business woman and heir to an empire when with your father and his investors. You didn’t even realise how much you missed her after moving out until now.

When Iris comes into the room again a few minutes later Michael is right behind her. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. I have some choice words for you, young lady. You’re lucky I’ve been forbidden from giving you a lesson until you’re better.” he says as he walks up to your bed, giving your hand a firm squeeze that reveals how happy he is to see you awake before starting to unplug some of the medical equipment. “You know, your little boyfriend wasn’t very happy when we moved you here from the hospital. Had to sneak him in a few times so he could see you without father knowing. Though knowing him he probably knows anyway and decided not to bring it up.” Michael says mindlessly, causing a confused sound to leave you and your brows to furrow. “Oh yeah. He looks so sad and guilty whenever he comes around, it’s sad really. I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend. It’s cute though, how much he cares. He brought you the flowers.” Iris says from where she’s sitting in your old desk chair, pointing to the vase of flowers on one on your nightstands that you hadn’t noticed. They seem to see the confusion on your face because Michael elaborates while he quickly removes the feeding tube from your nose, causing you to gag at the horrible feeling. “The bat hybrid dude? Don’t tell me you lost your memory. Or worse that we were somehow tricked and have been letting some dude you don’t even know come and see you.” You cough a bit as he helps you sit up and drink some water. “He was here?” you croak out. “Yeah.” Your sister gives you a gentle smile. “Where-?” your question turns into a cough, voice too rough from unuse to be able to speak properly. “At work, most likely. Listen, you’re mostly healed up, any broken bones you have are mostly healed now. We injected you with some stuff that made it all go rather quickly and since you were unconscious any of the exhaustion that comes as a side effect is mostly gone too. The serious wounds are gone, it’s mostly just some serious bruises left. And the exhaustion and strain all of this had on your body obviously. You will need some physical therapy to get back to your usual full bodily function, but that’s normal after a coma and wounds of that extent. What I mean to say is, if you want to, you are in good enough shape to pay a few people a visit later this week if you use the wheelchair. I know Blonde Blazer has been worried sick about you too, so it might be nice if you’re up for it.” Michael says, helping you get a more proper drink of water before continuing to unplug you and pack up the medical equipment.

It takes you a few days to gather the energy you need for travel, your body still weak enough that walking to the bathroom proves to be a challenge. It’s a friday, when after dressing in the same soft cat printed sweater and a pair of soft pants Michael helps you into the wheelchair you sometimes use after the yearly shot you need to keep your super strength and helps you into the car. The ride to the SDN building is lit by the afternoon sun. You know everyone's shifts will be ending soon, so you showing up unannounced shouldn’t disturb the work. After pulling up to the parking lot Michael helps you back into the wheelchair and tells the driver he’ll call him when you’re done, before pushing you into the building.

You spend the elevator ride strangely nervous, fiddling with your fingers and picking at your cuticles. The elevator opens and the bustle of the office washes over you. The first one to notice your arrival is Beef, the dog happily running up to you, his front paws resting on your feet asking to be picked up. You bend down and bring him into your lap just as another person notices your presence. “No fucking way. You're fucking alive?” Flambae's voice rings out over the room, and suddenly everyone's attention is now on you. You’re getting so many questions you can’t even answer half of them, people clapping you on the shoulder and leaning down for a hug. The commotion brings Blonde Blazer out of her office and when she sees you she all but runs up and gives you the biggest hug. “I’m so happy you’re okay. I missed you so much.” she mumbles into your hair. You give a wet chuckle as a response, all the emotions making tears form in your eyes. You bring a hand to wipe them away as Blazer pulls away and then you see him, standing at the back of the crowd, staring at you as if you were a ghost. You shoot him a smile. He doesn’t rush forward, just stands back and waits for the crowd around you to dissipate and for people to go back to work. When he does decide to step forward, Blazer is the only one from the crowd still left.

“Victor. Hi.” you greet him with a smile, using his real name while in the office for the first time. You can see him inhale a shaky breath. “Hey.” It comes out breathless and he shakes his head and repeats it more surely. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.” you say tilting your head back to look at his face. “Um, yeah. The flowers. No problem.” He scratches the back of his neck, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. Out of the corner of your eye you see Michael and Blazer talking, stepping away to give the two of you a semblance of privacy, your brother signaling towards the hallway with his head. “You wanna go somewhere a bit more quiet?” You tilt your head in question. “Yeah. Yeah sure. That’ll be nice.”

He pushes you out into the quiet and empty hallway after a bit of reassurance that you’re fine and the wheelchair is only being used while you get all your energy and strength back. “I missed you.” you admit quietly as he crouches down in front of you to get on the same level as you. Your words make him throw his arms around you and pull you into a crushing hug, his head finding its way into the crook of your neck. “Fuck I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry baby.” he mutters into your neck, your hand coming up to intertwine with the fur on the back of his head while the other arm wraps around him to reciprocate the hug. “Hey, it’s okay now. It all worked out okay in the end, didn’t it? And you’re back now too.” you say, pressing your face into the top of his head, right between his ears. “I’m never fucking leaving again, I swear it. I love you. I love you so much.”

There isn’t a part of you that doubts him when you say it back.

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