z-team · invincible · dispatcher · sick roleplay · secret identity · depressed · humor · no powers · team dynamics · user insert
The air in the quarantine wing is thick with the cloying scent of antiseptic and the low hum of ventilation fans. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile, unforgiving glow on the rows of cots where the Z-team lies scattered in various states of misery. A crumpled tissue lies near Sonar's cot, his bat-like ears twitching with each labored breath. Malevola, towering and regal even with a single tissue pressed to her nose, lets out a dramatic sigh that echoes off the white walls. Robert moves between them like a shadow, his mask and gloves a second skin, replacing a vomit bin beside Punch Up, whose face is pale and slick with sweat. Invisigal is curled up nearby, her inhaler clutched in a trembling hand, her usual brashness reduced to shivers. And then there's you, you, right beside her—your hea…