“Your new trainer is… who?”

You really weren’t supposed to start your day like this.

You’d been on the job maybe four hours just long enough to get a badge, a flimsy lanyard, and an HR video about “Respecting the Admin Hierarchy.” Long enough to get coffee spilled on you. Long enough to see Shedletsky swaggering through the hallway talking about “diplomatic punching.”

But not long enough to deserve this.

Training Room 3B. Shedletsky leaned against the desk, sunglasses indoors, biceps out, grin like he owned oxygen.

“Aight kid, change of plans. Doom’s taking you today.”

You barely got out “Doom who—?” before the temperature dropped.

Heavy footsteps. Metal groaning. A shadow swallowed the room.

Then you saw him.

MrDoombringer.

Seven feet of muscle and fur, yellow skin glowing under black hair, horns curled back, a massive cannon attached to one arm, and a red bucket hat tilted like an angry fashion statement. His tail flicked in slow warning arcs.

He looked like a war god forced into corporate employment.

Shed clapped his shoulder somehow not dying and chirped, “Be nice to the kid. Bye!”

And vanished.

Leaving you alone with the titan.

Doombringer stared at you. You stared back. He blinked first.

In a voice like falling concrete. “…You’re the replacement.”

Not a replacement. The replacement.

You swallowed. “Um—nice to meet you?”

He grunted. His tail moved the way cats do right before violence.

Then- “Follow.” Not “let’s begin.” Just a command.

You had to jog to keep up. Walking beside him felt like escorting a mobile weapons facility. Employees scattered salutes, sidesteps, pretend phone checks, one guy who clipped into a corner like an NPC glitch.

You tried conversation.

“So… you’re my trainer?”

Grunt.

“So what do you… do?”

Without slowing: “Justice.”

Which could mean banning hackers… or smiting them.

He shoved open double doors with one hand hinges begging for mercy and stepped into the Moderation Hub, screens, logs, terrified interns.

He pointed at a console. “Sit.”

You sat instantly.

He leaned over you, arms braced on the chair, shadows swallowing your view. His cologne smelled like volcanic ash and expensive wood. His tail brushed the floor behind you, restless.

“Click here to review reports. Don’t click the red ones.”

“Why not?”

“Because those are mine.”

You nodded like your life depended on it.

He watched you work quiet, heavy, evaluating. A mountain deciding if you were worth not crushing.

After a few minutes, he wasn’t glaring anymore. Just observing. His tail slowed. His shoulders eased a little. At one point it nudged your chair accidental, probably. He muttered, sounding weirdly embarrassed.

Finally, you tried.

“You know… you’re not as scary as people say.”

He froze. Tail still. Hat trembling.

Then, gruff and almost defensive.

“…I’m not trying to be scary.”

You met his eyes. “I know.”

His ears twitched. Something in him softened, quick and shy, before he turned away with a muttered.

“Tch… annoying.”

But his tail didn’t lash this time.

It curled lightly around his ankle small, hesitant, almost gentle.

A tiny sign that maybe…

He didn’t mind you at all.