Chapter Text
Robert was absolutely fucking tired. His body ached. His heart felt heavy as fuck, seemingly pulling him down. This dispatch job might have been his knight in shining armor, yet that didn’t make his other pressing problems disappear. He was depressed and not that type of depression that was seasonal or depended on some stressful situation; no, it was the kind that visited you once and never left. But he was lucky, in some sense. He had functional depression, which meant that he felt like shit most of the time but still had some energy to get himself out of bed.
He got up every day to an empty apartment, often not even in his bedroom, because he was too tired to crawl to his bed, leading him to pass out on the floor or in his only chair.
Today was no different, he woke up to an empty vodka bottle still in his hand, his head pounded to the rhythm of his alarm. And the heavy feeling on his chest continued to linger. Yup, he had been awake for about two seconds, and he already knew that this day was going to be shit.
He got up groggily, prepared his cute little sunshine of a dog something to eat and made himself a pot of coffee. He rarely ate in the mornings, often battling a hangover and generally being too unmotivated to make himself something to eat. Every time his stomach grumbled with a mean sound, the thought of food became tempting, but then every possible breakfast option started to sound nauseating, leaving him without the urge to eat anything.
Beef ate up gingerly, leaving his bowl licked-empty and started making impatient sounds, indicating the need to stretch his little legs and get on with the day. Sighing loudly, Robert took another big gulp of his cheap coffee and made his way towards his bedroom. His bedroom was as depressing as the rest of his apartment, bare without a single touch of personality. Sometimes Robert felt pathetic living in such a state, it was his house after all. He had been living in this apartment for at least two years now. Nevertheless, it appeared as if some college kid had only moved in. He knew that, if someone would visit him, they would be weirded out, maybe even concerned, but all Robert felt was emptiness.
As empty as his apartment looked, it was definitely nowhere near how utterly hollow he felt. Depression was no joke. The first time it started visiting him was shortly after his dad was killed. After a while it came over and never left. He managed to live with it, yet most of his life felt more like a survival movie than anything else.
Sighing yet again, he started getting ready, putting on his dispatch uniform, completing his skin care routine, which was him splashing cold water on his face and slapping himself, so at least some color returned to it and finally putting his only pair of shoes on.
Beef was already patiently waiting at the door, his tail wiggling with excitement. Getting his keys he finally stepped out of his poor excuse of a home and made his way to work. He didn’t have a car, barely had any money, having spent it all on his super-hero life, which left him either taking the bus or walking there for about 20 minutes. He had a dog, which meant he always walked.
The air was crisp when he stepped outside. A few people were wandering the streets, and it felt oddly calm. This city rarely had its quiet times, so these rare mornings were definitely a blessing. He was about ten minutes into his 20-minute walk, when he saw a family walking out of a coffee shop. The parents were holding hands while the father was carrying a 6-year-old boy on his shoulders. They were all smiling and happy.
Quickly averting his eyes from that and ignoring the pit forming in his stomach, Robert started walking faster, making his dog run to keep up with him. Fuck this shit. Why couldn’t he have a family like everyone else? He never knew his mother, she walked out of the family shortly after he was born, his dad was barely around him when he was alive. No siblings. No one. Maybe his ‘home’ wasn’t such a surprise after all. How could he make something his home when he never had that in his life? Sure, he had moral support, but that’s about it.
Being so caught up with his thoughts, only the sharp bark of his sole friend let him know that they had reached their destination. Sighing, yet fucking again, the man without powers made his quick way up to his cubicle. He arrived there after being crushed in the elevator, as usual. Letting the small dog go to his bed, he sank down on his seat and stared at the sticky note decorating his display.
‘fucker’
Ah, how nice. Someone from his team apparantly didn’t have a good morning. Ripping it off, he looked around quickly, to see if the culprit was anywhere near the crime scene, when he didn’t spot anyone, he knew that this was probably Invisa, or that small motherfucker. Wouldn’t be the first time one of them pranked or harassed him.
Getting up to get another cup of coffee, from the office now, he greeted some of the familiar faces around the office, being as polite as possible, yet moving fast enough to not fall into the trap of small talk. Robert quickly opened the doors to the kitchen and instantly wished he had stayed at his desk.
Flamecunts face greeted him and if his morning hadn’t been horrible so far, it would be now. The said man immediately checked who had entered the kitchen and when noticing who it was, Flame shot him a cocky grin. Rolling his eyes and not paying him much attention, he strutted goal-orientated towards the heavenly coffee, yet, because the universe seemed to hate him, the arrogant fucker suddenly stood in front of him.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our dear dispatcher. What are you doing here while I’m trying to eat, you daddy issued bitch” spat the ex-maybe-not-ex villain out, and although that was the corniest shit Robert had ever heard, the words made him feel as if another ton was added on his already struggling heart. His throat tightened and he willed this feeling to go away, nobody would respect him if he cried about stuff like that.
Forcing himself to meet the eyes of Chad, he dramatically rolled his eyes and stepped around the flaming man. Chad of course didn’t appreciate being ignored, which is why he grabbed Mecha-Man by the shoulder and forcefully turned him around, but before he could say anything corny again, the words disappeared out of his mouth when he saw Robert’s eyes. They were empty.
Startled by that, Robert was let go. Chad cursed under his breath and left the kitchen, leaving his sandwich forgotten on the round table.
Fucking hell, the shift hasn’t even started yet, and he already wanted to go home. He itched for a blade or alcohol. Maybe both, if he feels adventurous today. Filling his cup up, he took a deep gulp out of it, not minding burning his tongue, at least he felt something else than that uncomfortable itch in the back of his throat.
Robert looked at the clock in the kitchen and realized with dread that his shift was about to start in two minutes. Fucking fuck of a fuck, he was not in the mood to argue with seven supposedly adults about every little thing.
With a heavy heart and a burned tongue, he returned to face the ‘action’ and was greeted with guess what? Yup, another sticky note, now reading ‘sucker’. Huh. How original, fucker and sucker.
He ripped it off without another thought and put his headphones on. Immediately, as anticipated, he was greeted with rowdy, chaotic talk, without any chance to pinpoint who was saying what. Normally, he would shout into his mike to tell them to shut the fuck up, but he didn’t have the strength for that today; he just let them talk over each other and worked silently.
Every time an ‘emergency’ was called in, Robert assigned each ex-villain without a comment to their new tasks. He didn’t answer them when they asked him stupid questions or just complained. The silent treatment didn’t go unnoticed and when Invisigal returned from a mission to rest, she silently crept up towards him, invisible of course and just watched him. He seemed sad and didn’t even smile when Beef lay on his back. Now there were two kicked puppies in the cubicle, although only one of them was an actual dog.
She quickly left after seeing that her time to rest was going to be up soon, still, she cast a last look at the pitiful man in the seat, which was a mistake, as it made her stomach churn uncomfortably. She returned to the kitchen where she met the flammable asshole and Nicki Minaj-wannabe. They were having a heated conversation about the hottest part of the male body. Flame was advocating for the biceps while Pinkblue was defending the ass. Although it was an amusing sight, the depressed man in the office made her worry. But before she could talk about it with her team, those two fuckers got sent on separate missions, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen.
Back to the ex-hero, his day couldn’t be getting over sooner. Each and every time he actually had to speak up made him progressively more tired. Now he was arguing yet again with Malevola, trying to make her understand that he would not send her to the church in distress. It didn’t matter that she was only two blocks away from the distress call. She called him racist and some other names and then finally relented. Instead of the devil, he sent Punch up there; Punch at least resembled a normal guy, a small one, but a normal one.
After two more calls, his shift finally ended, and man was he relieved. One more petty argument and he would have jumped out of the building or committed murder. He pulled his headphones off with another heavy exhale and moved to get up.
He grabbed his few belongings, his phone, keys, and his dog, and made his way towards the elevator. Robert expected to walk straight home after this awful day, what he didn’t expect, was to see the whole Z-Team standing awkwardly in front of the elevator. Puzzled and also slightly annoyed, the coordinator of the team didn’t even want to dignify his team with a question and planned to ignore them and make his way home, but before he could hit the button of the elevator, a gruff voice stopped him in his tracks.
“You look like a depressed cunt, said with love or whatever. We are heading to a bar. Want to join?” asked Flambae, his mouth pressed together in a tight line, as if he was in pain just by asking this question.
Mecha-Man scoffed loudly. What was it with these shit heads to make his shift a living hell, yet the minute they are off the clock, they want to be buddies?
Dear reader, you have the following options to decide what fate Robert Robertson will face in the next chapter:
A: You choose to agree to Chad’s proposition-->go to chapter 2
B: You choose to answer snarkily and leave to go home alone-->go to chapter 3
C: You decline politely and choose Beef as the excuse not to go-->go to chapter 4