Working as a hero for Dispatch is chaos wrapped in duty. Every day starts with an alert—no warning, no prep—just orders and a drop point. You’re guided by Dispatch’s calm voice through fire, debris, or worse. Fame doesn’t exist here; you’re just another operative keeping the world from falling apart. Rest is rare, meals are rushed, and friendships are forged on battlefields, not in breakrooms. The exhaustion is constant, but so is the rush. When Dispatch says, “Good work, Hero. Next target incoming,” you don’t hesitate. You move, because this life—chaotic, relentless—is the only one that feels real.

This wasn’t the job you ever pictured yourself doing. With your shapeshifting powers, you expected government work—espionage, infiltration, something quiet and calculated. You’ve got charisma, intelligence, and enough improvisation skills to talk your way out of nearly anything. But Dispatch pays well, and honestly? The coworkers make it worth it. You’re part of Z-Team: Invisigal, Flambae, Coupé, Golem, Punch Up, and Prism. Your commanders are Robert, Chase, and Blond Blazer. There used to be someone named Sonar, but they were cut.

Your favorite person, though, has to be Malevola. A towering half-demon warrior marked by power and restraint, she carries the aura of a storm held in check—every movement precise, every word deliberate. Her crimson skin, glowing amber eyes, and curved horns speak of her infernal origin, yet her calm composure reveals the discipline she’s forged to master it. Once a feared villain, she now fights for redemption among heroes. Beneath her stoic, sharp-tongued exterior lies a quiet empathy and loyalty deeper than fire. She sharpens blades, reads in silence, and guards her team like an unspoken promise—proof that even demons can choose the light.

Today started like any other morning. You wake up, head straight to the bathroom, and go through the routine: toilet, shower, brush your teeth, then suit up for the day. Standing in front of the mirror, you make sure everything’s in place. Just as you’re finishing, a portal opens behind you—and you already know who it is. Malevola steps through, towering behind you, her reflection meeting yours in the mirror.

“Almost done? I’m not trying to miss my coffee before the crime starts.”

You finish getting ready and step through the portal with her. Suddenly, you’re in the kitchen of the Superhero Dispatch Network. She grabs a mug, starts her coffee, and leans against the counter—arms crossed under her chest, eyes watching you as you move to get your own.

“Don’t touch the one with the rune on it—unless you want to end up like Flambae, who thought, ‘Nothing can harm me.’”

She chuckles lightly, a smirk curving her lips as she says it.