Zzz-Team haha get it like sleep

"Another day, another dollar, right?" You ended with, sharing a laugh and smile before taking your arm off the cubicle wall and walking on, sunshine catching the vapors rising from your mug as you glid into your seat and slid the headset on. The day had just begun and your cup of joe was still piping hot. But only a few cubicles away, someone was eyeing your station, barely able to stomach their drink.

"So, what's the deal with..?" Robert asked, keeping his eyes trained on you as Chase peeked over his cubicle. "[Y/N]? Eh, they're alright. Been here for almost as long as I have, bastard got the good cubicle before I could snatch it, right by the window n' everything." "No, no you know exactly what I mean. He's got that, porcelain smile, you know? No one's that happy drinking shitty office coffee." He glanced down at his own concoction, wondering where the hell that Mr. Whiskey was.

"You've been sending yourself on a 15 year long suicide run, in a tin can held together by duct-tape and daddy issues, only stopping to wrangle a group of manic motherfuckers hellbent on making your work life miserable; and an office worker is what sets you off? Thought you'd be used to all kinds of shit by now." "I'm used to shit, yes, but not..." He wafted a hand up, motioning to your desk. "Kindness?" "Yeah! Fuck, that's depressing." "Mhm. Now, quit fuzzing over a man trying to do his job. You got your own work cut out for ya." He pointed down at the screen, Robert quickly fumbling to respond to 3 different calls as the team barked between their channels. Chase could only shake his head with a resigned smile, glancing over to you as he gave focus back to his own work. You moved your hand up, pushing the other cup of your headphones on and letting their conversation go.

It was nearing 9 PM, shuffling around your home with maroon slippers cushioning every step, stepping out of them before adjusting your nightgown and slipping beneath the sheets. As you reach for the novel on your nightstand a blue light cuts through behind it, pushing the book aside and grabbing your phone. At least you already had your reading glasses on.

After finicking with the touch screen for a moment, you saw it was none other than Robert who had sent a message. After hearing his conversation with Chase, you had decided to take the effort to alleviate any tension, electing to take on a more active role and offering your help. You were a mentor to the mentor, assisting in dispatches whenever your shift was slowing down, involving yourself with the Z-team itself, and going so far as to giving him your private phone number, telling him to call if there was ever any trouble.

Instead of a call for help, you had been sent a call to action. Either him or someone else on the team had gotten the idea to let you in on their afterwork activities. Despite your bar hopping days being far behind you, you decided to give in to the request and live in the moment again, giving a quick response (only took 2 minutes to type it) and rising from your bed, slipping out of your nightgown and into some proper clothing. It was only when you looked at your destination that regret made its way into your system.

The sardine. Eugh, either your nostalgia had warped every memory of this place, or it had really gone down the drain. The regret that lingered was now being smothered by the sudden worry you felt. What was Robert doing in a place like this? You stepped out from your minivan, wondering where the bouncer had gone off to as you made your way in.

Your thoughts were met with a bottle shattering next to your head. A body was thrown across the room by Malevola as it collided with the giant pinning Invisigal down, knocking their hold and giving her the freedom to kick him off and dive across the pool table, latching onto the back of whoever Robert had been boxing, steering them away and over the bar counter.

"Robert!" You called out, his glance turning to you for a moment. His mouth opened yet you couldn't pick up what he was saying, too distracted by a scent. A familiar scent. One of iron, which dripped from Robert's knuckles, hitting against the tiles, echoing in your mind like drums of war.

"[Y/N]!" He pulled you back into reality. "Look, I swear we didn't start this, but we can end it. Just wait outside while w-" It was all he got out before you suddenly threw him aside, giving him enough space to avoid the gorillian man that came barreling down, quickly tackling you into the other room, pressed against the wall as your assailant towered above. It took only a second for recognition to reflect in his eyes, slowly giving way to fear as he seemed to shrink.

"Shit- y-you're..." Your hands landed gently on his wrists, locking the man in place as you began to squeeze, palms now tickling with the cartilage and tendons that snapped beneath your grip as he screamed and flailed helplessly, unable to escape your grasp.

His lungs gasped pitifully through the chokehold, eyes reflecting the glint of a kukri raising itself high, about to plunge until the attacker was suddenly thrown off. It was only when Robert pushed himself back up that he noticed a man now lying on his assailant, arms shattered and retching for air. He turned towards the growing screams, catching the exact moment your teeth separated someone from their spleen.

"What the fuck is that!?" Invisigal yelled over the music, directing herself closer to Robert. "Shit is that, [Y/N]?" Sonar said with a sniffle, catching more of the powder smeared across his nose. "Man, he must have a serious sleeper build." "Knew there was something up with that fecker!" Punch Up grinned, ducking under a body tossed his way. Your maniacal laughter tore through the rest of the queries, some team members faltering for a moment to figure out if this berserker was a threat to them as well.

"Send them all!" You cried, effortlessly backhanding another crook across the bar, watching them crash and trash the stools they flew into. "Send them forth, to their slaughter!" Was the last thing Robert heard before Prism's vocals bolstered, the mild mannered coworker he knew blending into the carnage perfectly as the night raged on.

Dreadful. Only way to describe the ride so far. The car wasn't entirely silent, your personal mixtape playing over the radio speakers made sure of that, but your music taste wasn't what had stunned the passengers. Everyone on the team was used to their fair share of violence, excessive at that. But not... your brand of it. "Again, I am, so sorry for that," Robert began with. "probably should've known better than to-"

"Sorry?" You gave a small laugh, slapping a hand down onto the steering wheel, causing the crowd in the backseats to flinch. "No! No, that was, exhilarating." Your voice dropped to a growl as the yawning gaze of your eyes seemed to swallow all light in the car, hunching over the wheel like some prowling beast.

"We should do this, more, a reprisal - another call to arms! I had forgotten the ecstasy of it; of PAIN. Hadn't felt a thrill like that since, since," You glanced into the rearview mirror and swallowed hard, noticing the busted lips and swollen eyes and aching jaws your passengers bore. "...Or, maybe I'm getting a bit, ahead of myself. You know how it is, nostalgia is insidious." You gave another laugh which everyone else was hesitant to follow.

Their ride came to a stop, one by one trailing out with their thanks and heading towards the iridescent glow of that neon taco sign. "You sure you don't wanna come with? Junk food goes great with horrible decisions." Robert held himself back, looking over to you as he got out last. "Oh, I would, but it is far past my bed time. I've had enough adventuring for one night, and I simply must take care of this mess." You motioned down, Robert wincing at the crumb of flesh you picked off your bloodsoaked clothes and flicked out the window.

"Right, right. Well, hey, thanks for showing up. Probably would've gone a lot worse without your, talent there." He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe the carnage you unleashed. "You flatter me, Robert. Stay safe. you rascals!" You gave a small wave to the procession behind him, their bruised forms waving back as you drove off, a wide grin on your now crimson face.

Afterword

Yeah, I've basically made a habit now of getting these out laaate. Turns out juggling uni and creative writing is NOT an easy task. BUT, I just couldn't get this account out of my head, so expect more updates along the way now that I'm reaching the end of this course. Contemplating even branching out into different fandoms - I know, hold your applause.

Sorry if there wasn't enough with the Z-Team as a whole, found it hard to figure out how to fit the whole chaos of the bar fight and a bunch of team interactions without just, BOGGING down the flow.

Depending on whether the reader is a part of the Z-Team or not will change the team's initial reactions

If you're not a part of the Z-Team?

no one will believe him.

I mean, seriously. The first time he mentions his partner, EVERYONE tries calling out the supposed bluff. The man's an absolute poon-hound, he still gets made fun of for the handcuff incident - there's just no WAY he's managed to bag someone.

"Can't come tonight, sorry losers. I have a date with my gorgeous girlfrie" "cap." "Yeah no-" "There's no way you've managed to-" "How much did you pay her?" "Fuck, all of you."

If you are a part of the team, everyone else will VERY quickly start rolling their eyes over your lovey-dovey chatter, even Malevola starts wincing at the awful nicknames you two come up with.

Nearly the entire office was now avoiding the break room, and this time it wasn't due to whatever concoction had left its haunting miasma crawling from the microwave. It was something worse. "[Y/N], my favourite fuzzy freak." "Sonar, my little rizzley bear." Love in the workplace.

You and Sonar had been at this impromptu contest for a while now, inventing worse names and even worse compliments for each other as the only ones who could stand this onslaught were the few Z-Team members who had almost grown numb to these dialogues. almost.

"You think I can get away with burning this place down? Just for once?" Flambae asked Malevola, the both of them keeping their eyes on you two as they conversed. It was like a car crash, you just couldn't turn away. "Hm. Just go for the breakroom, easier to pin on somethin' else."

"Oh, [Y/N]," Sonar broke out with. "Your ass is so fat it makes me wanna kill myself." "Fuck it, torch everythin'."

Now that you're so close with Sonar, you're also gonna be close with Malevola as well. Them's the rules

She's like the opposite of a wingman, she'll tell you all sorts of embarrassing stories about him, though they all make him even more endearing to you.

maybe not the handcuff incident, that one's just funny

Victor definitely has that rescue-dog rizz to him.

He'll no doubt try and be all smooth and suave, but, well, the man wears skinny dress pants with loafers, he doesn't exactly scream charm.

Speaking of screaming, did you know that the tiger moth has evolved a method of disrupting bat's echolocation?

This power will lead to some, interesting predicaments.

"Babe, check this out!" Were the last words you heard before he took flight, trying to show off his bat form's capabilities in another insecure display of masculinity. Of course, you end up cheering him on as he climbs higher and higher. One of your notes end up a little too high however, a click echoing from your throat that only the two of you can hear. The last thing he remembers before waking up to you fussing over him in the medical wing was a sudden blip in his path and a face full of skyscraper.

The balance between human and moth in you also plays into various aspects of your relationship.

Do you have great wings which to fly with? Awesome! You'll fly together through the nights of L.A., having dates ON the actual Hollywood sign, just to one up Robert who does not give a SINGLE fuck.

If you can't fly? Even better, cause now Sonar has an excuse to carry you around and fly you wherever you want within like, city parameters of course. This man is not surviving further flights with that extra weight, he's a recovering addict I don't think he's got that great of cardio.

If it ever happens that you can fly but Sonar can't, I.E. he's not in his bat form, he'll begrudgingly let you fly him around as he sulks over not being able to "assert his dominance", which you can't help but laugh off. Luckily for him you can't see the blush beneath his fur.

Hey, speaking of fur, if your body grows fur as well.

Pain.

Sonar has it bad enough cooling down with the amount of fur/body hair he's got, but sharing a bed with someone that's ALSO got fur, if not more than himself?

The summers of L.A. are ubiquitous with pain. The scalding heat, drinks that can never stay cold, peeling yourselves off of office chairs, sunburns that leave most people searing like strips of bacon, -- it's a living that even those born into this environment cant handle.

You and Sonar had moved in together a few months back, and as fate would have it your relationship proved to be more than compatible, any issues arising ironed out as they came. It was like that strange phase of puppy love never quite died out. Though, eventually the cons of living together would rear its ugly, overheated head out. You don't even know who had done it, but the blanket that had first covered you both was now kicked to the floor, bodies sprawled over the already sweat stained mattress.

"Heuhhh, I should've never invested into that ai start up. All, melting the stupid earth -- I'm sorry earth!... Nature? - mother nature?" "All your fault." You croaked out. "We're being punished by earth, nature, AND mother nature, all at once. Villain." "Yeah. cringe." You threw your heads to look at each other. In the haze of this heatwave, a small giggle broke out. Just like the blanket, you had no clue what kicked it off, but eventually neither of you could stop the chuckles and giggles that began to fill the humid bedroom. Even in this infernal heat, you couldn't bear to let go of each other's hand.

In stark contrast, winter is the absolute best time of the year. Sonar comes off as a very physical guy to the ones he's close with, so now that the heat's finally let up completely?

Doesn't matter where you are, he'll stick to you like dew. In the bed, on the couch, by the stove, in the bathtub. You'll need a crowbar if you want to pry him off.

Like I said, shelter-dog rizz.

If you also have the rather, strange eating habits of a moth -- like Sonar shares with bats, you'll both bond over being absolute freaks in the culinary sense, him snacking on a cockroach he caught during an earlier dispatch while you nibble your way up his silk tie and meet him with a kiss.

Your entire relationship is like one big contest to see who can out-freak the other. Much to the dismay of the team.

Only negative thing about him is that he's still got some... strange connections to the manosphere. It definitely hasn't gotten too far yet, mostly surface level childishness about alphas and betas.

You just find it so ridiculous you can't help but laugh at it, which definitely helps him realize the stupidity of it all between the fluttering in his chest from hearing your laugh.

Though if it ever gets to a point where you have to seriously sit him down and talk about something that he said which wasn't okay, it'll be the final nail in the coffin for this "ideology".

At the end of the day, the both of you love each other, hopelessly so. Even when you're both driving the team mad with your constant cooing, traumatizing Prism with your horrifying diets, heaving from flying all the way to the Hollywood sign for a date, melting from the summertime sun; you're one moth, one bat, both freaks, together.

Afterword

This one took a while. Again. I was away for the holidays and thought I could slip in some time to write during the downtime of the trip, but we ended up doing so much I've only picked the blog back up now that I'm fully home.

But still, this was another fun experiment! Hadn't written a headcanon list before, so I hope I got the formatting right. Sonar is such a strange character to me because, like, in any other piece of media he would probably be a joke, a one-off character.

A tech-bro bat-man voiced by a famous youtuber. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, yet he's a fan favourite -- hell, I love him too! Still, my interpretation of him may be a bit strange cause I see him as a man who's baseline is... troubled, I guess you could say? I mean, every character in the cast is troubled, but no good person associates themselves with crypto. Buuuut, then again, he's funny so whatever (can't believe being a crypto-bro is a bigger red flag for me than, like, actual murder)

If there was one word to describe Los Angeles, it was super. Whether it was in the billboards that followed you around every street, the daily calamities that ruined your morning commute, or the constant stream of idol zeitgeist from your peers; there was always someone or something super involved. And unfortunately, you held a part in it.

The drawbacks came early in your youth, a small temper tantrum strong enough to be measured on the Richter scale. Day in and out you had to smother your emotions, slowly molding that wallflower personality that kept you from trouble for so long. But your powers were strong, too strong to go unnoticed, and this unhealthy habit wouldn't hold forever. It might've been a freak accident after a particularly stressful day, or one grueling moment you couldn't bear to hold yourself back anymore, but whether you liked it or not, the "super" side of LA had finally took notice of you.

So there you sat, legs pressed together in that beat up lobby chair, sinking into the cushioned imprint from all those before you. It held more than enough room to sprawl out, but something weighed on your heart like an anchor. This was an opportunity -- a good one! Yet while your face didn't show the frantic beating in your chest, your surroundings did. The trashcan's contents slowly crawling out, the office chairs dragging to a circle, the near empty room seemed to draw closer and closer until a voice cut through.

"Hey. [Y/N], right?" You raised your head, the man who had just called your name scanning the now strewn lobby. "Not the worst state I've seen this place in." He held out a hand which you were quick to meet. "Robert. Robert Robertson - and before you start, yes, that's my actual name." You weren't sure what you were supposed to start. "Robert, thank you for having me here, I'm... wait, no, you already said my name." He held back the chuckle that nearly slipped, noting how you were still holding firm onto his hand. "Yeah, I did. Still, not a crime to say it twice. This hero business involves a lot of head trauma so, a reminder's always good." With that you had finally remembered to let his hand drop, following him through bleached corridors and a miasma of stale coffee. "First things first, it's best to get you introduced to the others."

"Alright, team, the reason you were all called in here today is because," "We're switching to child labour?" Some bat-headed businessman piped up with, earning a few chuckles and harder exhales from the conference room. "Yes. In fact, due to a piss poor performance they'll be taking your place as of now… Is what I would've had done if this was my call, but alas." The bat man scoffed and sunk into his chair as the team seemed to turn the humour on him. "Skipping all the corporate talk; from now on, [Y/N] here will be this team's protégé, learning under a mentorship that all of you will be leading." For the first time since you had stepped into this building there was silence.

"Thank you all for having me here. It looks like this came as a shock to, all of you, but I'm honored to be a part of this." You repeated the sentiment you had held in the lobby. Honored was a strong word, but with how their gazes were locked at you, a bit of flattery would surely ease the tension. "Is this a fuckin' joke?" ah.

They weren't happy, and the comments were coming out quick. "W-Why are… who, wanted us to take care of- mentor of, someone?" "Fuckin' 'ell, Robert, what's a wee sheit like them doin' in a place like this?" Not necessarily aimed at you. Just, the situation itself. "We're not babysitters, fuck are we supposed to do with a kid?" Well, some still aimed at you.

You felt a tug at your lip, eyes in the room darting between you and Robert as the complaints poured forward. You were close to melting into the wall until Robert took a step forward and planted his hands on the table. "Hey, hey! Do I gotta remind you all how we ended up here? Cause I know that none of us planned on going corporate." His gaze traveled over the team. "I was given this chance, alright? A second chance, and so were you. Some of you even got a third chance -- hell, a fourth! So instead of getting pissy over having to do your literal jobs, you can all give [Y/N] here the same chance that we got."

The team had been reduced to murmurs, searching amongst each other for whoever had the next word. "So, what can they do?"

Your powers were strong, too strong to go untested in the field. Your first week or so was to be spent around the office, helping wherever you could and training in the building's gym. Flambae hadn't been too keen on being a "babysitter" and his woes would strike true, taking Blonde Blazer's place today as your trainer. His powers apparently had the tendency to flare up alongside his emotions, a parallel that was quickly drawn to you.

"Look, I don't know what they were thinking bringing a kid to the office," "teenager" "Shut up. And I've already got enough to deal with from doing actual work so just, do your brain thing or whatever-the-fuck you call it" You looked between him and the punching bag, unsure where to really take the initiative. Raising your hand, that all too familiar wave was drawn from your core, traveling through bones and ligament and hurling itself from your palm, slamming the punching bag back and letting it sway.

You turned to him, expecting some sort of follow up. Instead he just stood there, arms crossed and his weight on one foot, giving a nod to continue. So you went on, sending a barrage into the bag guided by your fists. Flambae didn't seem to stop you just yet, watching as you flailed about with your psychokinesis doing most of the work. Despite trying your best to never rely on your powers, you had never put particular effort into building up your body either, not even a few seconds passing until you felt your lungs begin to heave, electing to stop.

"There," You spoke between labored breaths. "I'm sorry that I'm taking up your time with this." "What?" He raised a brow. "Your schedule. You said you already had enough to deal with, so I'm sorry for getting in your way with, this." He stared back at you, the annoyed demeanor now replaced with confusion, which eventually melted away into a look you couldn't quite describe, eyes that carried some form of sympathy as his domineering posture gave way. "No, no no that's, uhh… you, stand poorly. Any hit and you'll get swept with your knees locked like that. Here - hold on let me show you."

He took a step forward, suddenly caring enough to begin instructing your body, fixing your stance and giving you room to continue, a small smile as you both began to work through improving your repertoire. From that day on, it seemed like Flambae was covering more and more for Mandy every week.

"Yo, [Y/N], you been reading up on that homework?" Were the first words that met you in the break room. Sonar had been surprisingly open to helping you out, even supplying you with 'study material' as he called it. At first you were grateful -- though, a bit discouraged since you already had actual schoolwork to do. Then the horrid realization came, how the books were all under one author. Vanderstank. You hadn't really picked up on most of the things Sonar tried to teach you, but you recognized the terminology in these pages from his ramblings. 'Sigma male', 'Grindset', 'HODL', 'Crypto wallet'. It was more made up than any fairytale you'd heard.

Unfortunately, you didn't have the heart to tell him the full extent of your thoughts. He meant well, always talking about improving your confidence and "maximizing your profits". So your usually dormant face carried a forced smile with it. "Yeah, they've really helped me… extend my port-folio. Thank you." "See! Told you the kids gets it -- watch, two years from now? We'll have our own startup and everything."

Malevola, who was sitting right beside him, carried a smile alike your own; though hers was more empathetic to you specifically. "You're gonna rot their brain with that stuff, man." "Nah, that's just what quitters say, to hold back the alphas who're trying to make it." "Make it? You- We work in a glorified call center, where have we made it?" "Hey, I said they're holding back those who are trying to make it, not those who've already- oh, shoot, hold on." In a moment he had fished his phone out, pacing away to listen to whatever pyramid scheme he had roped someone into.

"Real sweet of ya to play along with him." "Play, along?" "Yeah, y'know, with the books." Her smile began to falter. "Wait. You didn't actually read them, did you?" "Oh no, I did. They were horrible."

That earned a quick laugh from her, slinging an arm around your shoulder and playfully butting a horn against your dome. "Ah, I like ya kid- you're cool."

Just as Sonar had gotten off the phone, Robert stuck his head into the lounge, giving a whistle. "Hey, we've got some molemen surfacing downtown, seems like they're making a comeback for, some reason. We need you out there, now." "And you didn't just say this over our pieces cause?" Sonar had to ask. "Because," Robert swung his hand and chucked something your way, you were quick to catch it and look down at the earbud in your palm. "I think it's about time [Y/N] here went on an actual call and not a coffee run."

Your powers were strong, too strong to become dependent on. So during his time between missions, Punch Up would drag you to the gym, having you train whatever lay beyond your powers. You tried to protest at first, but it seemed like nothing could cause that man to back down, eventually convincing you to tag along with it. He had already worked half a shift today and was still finding the energy to hold that punching bag for you.

"Come on, kid. Put yer fist through it!" He went on like clockwork, watching you dance around -- or more-so stumble around -- the rubber mat. Admittedly you had noticed some progress to your stamina and strength compared to how you were at the start of this mentorship. Though Colm had a nasty tendency to forget the fact that he was literally built different, barely having broken a sweat while you felt your knuckles already beginning to ache through the gloves.

"Don't you think this," You paused to dry your throat with saliva, was that the taste of iron or blood? "that this is a bit much? My arms are, so tired."

"'Yer not gonna make it far with whinin' like that. Now I know ya can do better than that wee ticklin', so come on!"

Another nasty tendency he had was his mouth and how he never knew when to close it. Even when trying to motivate he would accidentally slip a word in that ticked something off within you. So you heaved yourself forward, your whole torso turning with the punch, nailing it straight center mass into the bag. Unbeknownst to you, Colm had let his arms rest during this 'motivational talk', and before he could raise his hands again his vision was engulfed with the battered redness of a punching bag.

It took you a second to build the courage to peek across, gazing down at his now gushing nose. The weights littered around had already begun to float, the bag itself shaking with your fear. Before you could even get a word out, Colm let a bolstering laugh that shook the gym, clapping you on the back as you felt the color slowly rise back to your face.

"There we fuckin' go! Now that's a brutal dig!" Your words were faltering, stuttering incoherently as you pointed at the bloody mess that was seeping into his mustache. He finally took a finger up, dabbing at it and pulling away to look at the crimson shine. "Hah! What'd I tell ya? Knew ye could do better than that. Soon enough, ya won't even be needin' yer powers." You finally met his beaming laugh with a, albeit hesitant, smile of your own. The worry you felt had been overtaken by a strange warmth rising in your chest from the pride he wore on his bloodied face.

"MY FUCKING CAR!" A yell froze you up, spinning around to meet the source. An aging man with a comb-over that was certainly over, reeling beside what could only be described as a polygonal eye-sore with its windshield pierced by a piece of debris, the debris you had been chucking at the now pummeled monster. It was your first ever big mission, and you were already paying for it.

"I'm sorry, sir." You began with quickly, reciting the same commercial you had seen on loop in the lobby. "SDN doesn't cover any damages to property in the field. I-" "Sorry!? You better be sorry, you lil' shit - wipe that smug-fuck look ya got!" Your felt that almost nostalgic pressure crawl back into you, taking a step back as the spittle hit your temple, a frown forming as the rubble around you began to shake. "I oughta wipe that mug myself, you-"

"Hey. One more step, and we'll ruin more than that shitbox of yours." Before the man could even follow your step back, Flambae was standing right in front of you with a stare strong enough to burn a hole through your assailant. "This bitch giving you trouble?" Prism followed up with beside you, pushing her shades down to get a good look at the shrinking man.

"We all good?" The shadow that now loomed over you spoke, Golem dwarfing everyone in this confrontation. Whatever the man had wanted to say was stuck in his throat, his legs failing him next as he clambered back into the office he crawled out from.

You had expected further reprimand, shit talk, maybe even an early leave once you got back. Instead the trio was now fuzzing over you, Flambae crouching to your level as Prism wiped the dirt from your shoulders. "Hey, look at me, that out there -- the work you just did? Fucking amazing. Forget that bitch, alright?" It was like he could peer through your mask, the roaring in your chest slowly fizzling with a heavy exhale.

"Thanks- thank you for, saving me there. I'm sorry that-" "Don't you go apologizing for what that limpdick tried pining on you. These things happen, like, all the time." Prism was quick to cut you off with. "If anything we were saving him. You would've turned his ass inside out." She added, giving you a grin. It was usually a rare sight, but ever since you got your footing in this team, you seemed to crack a smile more every day.

Robert ripped the headset off, drawing a sigh for so long his lungs felt like collapsing. It had been a long shift -- no, a long day. His shift ended an hour ago, or was it two? That computer would not let him go. Self proclaimed nemeses returning, calamities tearing through the city left and right, people in the streets yelling about the end of the world. Just his luck that that kaiju had to come out right during the eclipse, something about the event having drawn out everyone and everything.

He pried himself from the office chair, each joint and ligament screaming at him for all his horrible life choices. As he was packing his things, his phone buzzed with a message from that all too familiar geriatric.

lounge. now.

Maybe it had been the horrid shift he just had getting to him, or the sleep deprivation, or both, but all the alarms went off in his head at once, rushing past the dormant cubicles, nearly slipping over the smoothened floor as he practically slid into the lounge, immediately hushed by Chase who only met Robert with a gesture towards the sofa. You were lying there with Beef pressed up against your stomach, Phenomaman's cape detached and draped over the both of you. Robert had been wondering where you went off to during the day, and why the rest of the Z team were so dismissive to answer him. Guess this was their idea of covering for you.

"Went around lookin' for Beef and found these lil' shits sleepin in." Chase spoke in a half whisper, pocketing his phone. "Don't know how long they've been here, but I can't bring myself to wake 'em." "And let me guess, you've already set this as your background?" "Damn. I am fuckin' old, huh?"

They both shared a suppressed laugh, Robert turning back to look at you. He hadn't admitted it yet and maybe he never will, but when he was first informed of the initiative, this mentorship, it terrified him to no end. Not only the idea of throwing someone so young into a group like the Z-Team, but letting you into the superhero world all together. Robert knew firsthand how it ruined people, how it had ruined him, how he was always gonna carry the scars from that upbringing. To walk in the footsteps of his father was the only path he had lived by for so long. What little youth he had left back then was crushed beneath the mecha-man suit, and what if you had to stand against that same pressure -- how would you stand?

But watching these past few months unfold, how your powers had grown alongside you, how you went from staying silent through an entire shift to laughing along in the break room, how the team went from seeing you as a detriment to treating you like you'd been there since the beginning, it gave him hope.

The Phoenix Program had been made to save those who were deemed unredeemable, and now long after its initial success, the unredeemable had managed to save you.

Afterword

That's that! A lot of scenes I had originally wanted in I had to cut for the sake of time and general flow, and there were still some characters featured i wish i could've given more attention (it's like, midnight at the time i'm finally posting and this request is almost a week old now im so sorry apple anon :skull:) there were definitely some characters I just couldn't fit into the post without making it twice as long soooo if y'all want a follow up with the other characters aswell or a headcanon list just holler. I'll def be trying to get these out faster now that i have a more firm understanding on how to write for other characters