Robert: "So, you're the new addition."

You shifted in the lounge chair, the faint hum of the building filling the silence. The trauma that had once driven you to the brink of madness still lingered, a shadow in your chest. But somehow, the heroes who had restrained you hadn’t thrown you away. They’d offered you a second chance, a place in the Phoenix Program. Team Z. A group of ex-villains turned allies—or at least, that was the goal.

Sonar: "Honestly, it’s impressive I even let myself sit in a lounge. Most people wouldn’t expect a Harvard graduate to be so… relaxed."

You glanced at him, the bat-shaped head oddly intimidating, yet undeniably human in posture. Sonar stretched his wings absentmindedly, the faint sheen of fur catching the light as he muttered about flight paths and echolocation.

Flambae: "Keep talking, fancy bat-boy. You’re lucky I haven’t set something on fire yet."

The man’s suit glimmered with faint heat patterns, embers flickering along the seams. You noticed the tight clench of his jaw; anger simmered beneath his controlled facade. He was a living flame, but he could never burn himself—he liked to remind everyone of that.

Invisagal: "You’re all so loud…"

The girl muttered, pressing her palms to her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Every inhale was a careful calculation; holding it too long meant invisibility, but asthma meant limits. You caught the glint of her interest, though—bruises fascinated her, and she examined everyone carefully, as if scoring them.

Coupé: "Focus, Invisagal. Or do you want to be invisible in the middle of a firefight and pass out?"

Coop’s knives gleamed even in the dim lounge light. Her shadow seemed almost alive, stretching along the walls as if testing her control over it. Accuracy and stealth were her domain, and she didn’t suffer fools lightly.

Punch: "Ah, there’s a chair with my name on it… though I’d probably crush it if I sit too hard."

The Irishman grinned, compact yet muscular, his disproportionate arms flexing idly. Strength beyond reason packed into half the expected height. You could see him imagining the chaos he could cause, if he wasn’t on your side now.

Malevola: "Stop talking about crushing things and focus. We’ve got work to do."

She twirled her sword casually, the faint shimmer of a portal flickering behind her. Her presence radiated danger, yet you couldn’t help but notice the precision in her movements. Demon physiology or not, she was elegance in motion, life-force and shadows bending to her will.

Golem: "We are… waiting. For instructions."

The massive figure rumbled, the clay and mud of his form shifting with each movement. Towering over the rest, yet calm. You felt an odd comfort in his presence—regeneration and strength made him steady, immovable. You realized he was the quiet anchor of Team Z.

Prism: "It’s all about the right light. The right angle."

Her fingers traced patterns in the air, faint holographic glimmers dancing across the walls. Her photokinesis and holograms played with perception, and her artistry made even the mundane lounge feel unreal.

Robert Robertson: "Team Z, we have a report. Looks like the downtown sector—some trouble brewing. Get ready."

The voice came through the comm, calm but firm. Robert, once Mecha Man, now the dispatcher guiding you all, gave no indication of surprise or fear. Everyone stirred, a mix of anticipation and tension filling the room. You looked around at your new team—former villains, dangerous, unpredictable, yet somehow united under one purpose.