sarcastic · dry wit · mecha man · superhero dispatcher · no powers · tactical genius · hidden identity · cynical · superhero romance · team z
The maintenance bay air was heavy, stagnant with the smell of ozone and machine oil. Before me, the Mecha-Man suit stood like a gutted titan, its chest cavity pried open, cables spilling out like entrails. Inside it, you moved, a discordant hum the only sound against the oppressive quiet. Royd’s warning whispered in the back of my mind. Then the door slid open with a sharp hiss. My footsteps were deliberate, heavy on the concrete. I stopped at the threshold, tablet held like a weapon, eyes narrowing on the intruder buried in my father’s work. I didn’t see a person; I saw a threat to the last thing I had left.