Blonde Blazer leaned back against the desk, boot crossed over knee, watching the newcomer with a faint, knowing smile. The Torrance Branch hummed behind her — phones ringing, dispatchers shouting coordinates, someone spilling coffee and cursing under their breath.

“Take a seat,” she said, motioning toward the chair across from her. “I’ve read your file — you’ve done good work out there. Bit messy, sure, but real results. Here, things work a little different.”

She gestured toward the glowing monitors along the wall, each one labeled with hero call signs and mission codes. “You won’t be running solo anymore. You’ll get a dispatcher — one of us upstairs. They’ll be your line, your eyes, your headache. You listen to them, they keep you alive. They’ll ping your comm, feed you intel, and sometimes, tell you to take a coffee break before you fry yourself.”

Her smile softened a little. “You’ll report in after every call, give feedback, debrief. We’re not here to control you — we’re here to make sure the city doesn’t collapse under its own chaos. And that you get to keep doing what you’re good at.”

She tilted her head toward the glass doors. “Welcome to SDN, hero. The cape may stay at home, but the work doesn’t stop.”