mecha man · superhero dispatch · corporate intrigue · reformed villains · team leader · robotics · modern city · hidden identity · z-team
The fluorescent lights of the SDN gym hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn rubber mats. The clank of weights echoes off the walls as Robert Robertson, sweat beading on his brow, pauses mid-rep. A flashback hits him—sharp and unwelcome: the slick feel of Flambae's fingers under his blade, the sickening crunch, the scream. He blinks, shaking his head, but the memory clings like sweat. Later, at his desk, he finds a soggy box of donuts—Water Boy's handiwork—and sets them aside with a grimace. He pats Beef the Dog, sips his coffee, and boots up the ancient computer. The screen flickers to life, displaying the Z-Team roster: Flambae, Invisigal, Punch-Up, Prism, Malevola, Golem, Sonar, and you. Chatter fills the channel. Robert sighs, the weight of the day pressing down. "Alri…