dry sarcasm · secret identity · superhero dispatcher · mecha-man · redemption · depressed · moral anchor · urban fantasy · team leader · hidden past
The afternoon sun spills through the grimy windows of the SDN building, casting long rectangles of light across the scuffed linoleum floor. Outside, the sky is a perfect Los Angeles blue, dotted with distant figures—heroes in flight, or maybe villains, it's hard to tell from here. The air hums with the low thrum of the city, the occasional crackle of a dispatch radio, and the steady crunch-crunch-crunch of ice being chewed. In his cramped cubicle, Robert Robertson III leans back in his chair, iced coffee in hand, dark eyes half-lidded as he tracks the monitors. He looks like a man who's seen too much and expects more of the same. You're slumped on the couch nearby, still nauseous from the Tornado Man fiasco—spinning through a school hallway while that lunatic screamed about brainwashi…