Chapter Text
The Z-Team didn’t like Robert.
They were villains. They were fuck ups. They each had a giant chip on their shoulders that barely let them stand next to each other on a good day. As soon as his voice first came on the group call, they had to give him shit. If they didn’t start harassing him, the Blonde Boss Lady would have benched them thinking they were being mind controlled.
It didn’t help that Robert was the next one in a long string of cooperate lap dogs who just didn’t get it.
Their first dispatcher was a seasoned professional named Millie, former hero named The Leap who had to retire from fieldwork due to a leg amputation of all things. After the tenth time someone cluttered the line (Malevola making a crude but surprisingly flattering comment about the way Sonar was handling a more diplomatic mission) Millie stormed off in the middle of her second shift. The comm was open for the team to hear him mutter, “…the most disrespectful group of brats I’ve ever talked to.”
Their last dispatcher had been a surprisingly young man by the name of Theo. The fourth time someone refused to go on a mission (Prism for a fetch quest mission, ranting about how it was beneath a pop star like her), Theo burst into tears within a few hours of starting the job. They all collectively agreed that Theo had literally been a Hail Mary for SDN, a “don’t shoot the puppy” approach. Too bad none of them felt bad about it. (They felt a little bad about it, even if none of them said it out loud).
Every handler thought they could “handle” the Phoenix team. Tame them, make them palatable, water them down. Turn them good. So they didn’t like Robert.
But they did like his voice.
It went unacknowledged for a while. They had been together on that first day, gearing up in the morning in their own self-appointed corner of the Ready Room. Placing bets, snarking to each other, ignoring the quiet tension of having another new dispatcher and wondering if this would be their last chance with SDN before they were all fired. But after a day of surprising success after success and the tension dissipated somewhat, the anit-heroes started to glance at the elephant in the room.
Coupé strolled into the break room after Punch Up, automatically scanning. When her eyes landed on Invisigal watching Golem eat a late afternoon snack in slightly disgusted fascination, Coupé…wandered over. She also tapped to make sure her earpiece was turned off and flickered her eyes over to the two tablemates, checking that their earpieces didn’t have any lights on.
“So you got a good look at our new dispatcher earlier,” she started.
“…yeah, so?” Invisigal drawled, her eyes sharpening.
“Relax,” Coupé said, opting to prop her hip against the table closer to Golem than to her now frowning coworker. It also helped her casually turn her back on the snack break, because she was leaning more toward disgusted than fascinated. “I just wanted to get a visual to match the voice in our heads. He has…a certain quality.”
At the clear topic, Invisigal actually did loosen up slightly, propping her feet up on the chair next to Coupé’s knee to lounge better. She also smirked which wasn’t a good sign.
“Oh, yeah? What quality would that be?”
The former assassin felt her jaw tighten for a split second. Invisigal loved to push buttons and flick foreheads and just generally get a reaction from those around her. How blatant the coping mechanism was made it hard to fault her for it. Coupé had used it herself on the rare occasion when that was the best solution. It didn’t make it any less annoying. Especially when it was the ex-thief’s default response to anything.
“He has…surprisingly good poise over the intercom,” Coupé answered plainly.
Invisigal rolled her eyes, deflating when Coupé failed to give her a bigger response. “He’s not that impressive in person. I mean, the scars and bruises were pretty hot, but he’s kinda unassuming in person. On the skinnier side, shorter than the blond bitch, looks like he’s perpetually tired. Pretty sure those eye bags are permanent at this point.”
Coupé let one of eyebrows lift and Invisigal chuckled.
“I know, right? The voice makes him seem like he’s got a little somthin’ somthin’.” Her coworker paused, tilting her head back in thought. “Well…his voice matches his eyes. Motherfucker knows how to keep some good eye contact,” she said ruefully.
Her other eyebrow lifted to match the first. Invisigal shrugged a little sharply, some of the defensiveness coming back. “What? If you want to know what he looks like so bad, go out into the bullpen and meet the guy.”
“I’ll keep my high hopes from being dashed against the real thing,” said Coupé, gracefully pushing off the table in the direction of the water cooler. Stopped mid-movement when Punch Up handed a cup of water to her. Smiled at him with her eyes in thanks.
He joined the impromptu discussion of their dispatcher, saying “I have to admit from one smooth voiced guy to another, he does have a nice voice. I’ll come out and say it’s hot. Makes me wanna watch Bojack Horseman again.”
Invisigal scoffed, but Coupé noticed her face taking on a small hint of pink. Golem on the hand finally lifted his head from what little remained in the garbage bag flattened in front of him. “Kinda like it. Other dispatchers…were pretty harsh on the ears. At least he sounds good.”
Coupé nodded as Invisigal grumbled but in a way that sounded vaguely like agreement. Punch Up sighed as he crossed his arms with a weary air, “Doubt he’s gonna last any longer than any of the other dispatchers they’ve tossed our way though. Feels like SDN is just throwing anyone who comes in our way.”
Before anyone else could comment on the sad part of that remark, Flambae sauntered in looking entirely too pleased with himself. He was also singing what sounded like disco which sounded…interesting with his accent. Couldn’t have that. And it seemed Invisigal was thinking the same thing, because this time she used her annoyance for good.
“Someone looks like they had a good time. You get off on our dispatcher telling you exactly what to do too?” she snickered meanly.
“Burn, baby, burn~. Disco in – chi?!” their local arsonist wheeled around angrily, all of his swagger disappearing as soon as flames erupted off his shoulders.
Coupé snorted inelegantly. She didn’t particularly care to do it often in public, but somehow she didn’t mind doing it around Flambae. The flames grew a little brighter with heat and it suddenly turned into an actual threat, the skin on the left side of her face getting tight and prickly. Before suddenly vanishing.
“You know what? You dicks are not going to ruin my good mood today,” Flambae huffed. He suddenly straightened and brushed off his arms, like he was physically wiping the insult off him. “I just finished my third mission in a row with success and nothing can stop me! Not even gross comments about me and fucking Bob Bob.”
A smirk settled on Invisigal’s face, challenge accepted. The conversation quickly and predictably dissolved into bickering. Coupé watched the show after sinking into a lounge midair, sniping insults from the sidelines. It was nearing the end of the day anyways, so the topic of their enigmatic and baritone-voiced dispatcher would have to wait until tomorrow. But it was gratifying to know she wasn’t the only one who had noticed.