Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 10: Veil

"You look out for each other," you continue, deliberately measuring each word, feeling them scrape against nerves and histories you will never fully know. "You try. And that... that's exactly what this program is for." You tap your pen lightly against the clipboard.

This is what matters: persistence, endurance, and the willingness to show up for one another.

There is a pause, a tension stretching between you and them, an unspoken acknowledgement of how much it means to be seen, to be understood, to be allowed to try.

Finally, you clear your throat, grounding yourself with the sound of your own voice. The words feel heavy, necessary, weighted with respect and recognition. "...So," you say, voice louder than you expect in the fragile silence, "let's move to the next section: eligibility for the program."

Sonar shifts subtly, for a moment, he seems almost delicate, the kind of vulnerability that twists something deep in your chest. Malevola, sensing it, allows herself to relax as well, shoulders dropping from the tension you had not realised she was holding so tightly.

Beneath the absurdity, beneath the mess, beneath everything you have ever believed your career should be about, there is something undeniable here. Something worth trusting.

Sonar, with all his wildness, his unpredictable streaks, his feral habits, deserves the chance to be more than the sum of his chaos. To channel his strength, intelligence, and unusual nature into something meaningful, to protect, to help, to be a hero in his own imperfect way. Malevola, for all her sharp edges, commanding presence, and sardonic humour, deserves the chance to guide, to heal, to shape good in someone else, proving that courage, heroism, and redemption belong not to the flawless but to the persistent, the brave, the willing.

Watching them, you feel it as sharply as a physical blow; being a hero has never been about never falling. It is about choosing to rise. Choosing to try. Choosing to keep going despite everything. And they are doing exactly that.

Sonar and Malevola deserve a chance.

----

You head back to SDN, your body groaning with exhaustion. Yet, beneath it, a quiet, enduring sense of satisfaction begins to unfurl within you. It is not loud or boastful, but persistent, a subtle warmth that seeps into your chest and steadies your pulse. The day had been messy, unpredictable, even relentless at moments, but in its chaos lies a certain clarity.

You replay the house visit in your mind: Sonar and Malevola, the chaos of their home, their bizarre tendencies, the sharp barbs that somehow mask genuine care - it all swirls together, forming a picture described as 'oddly comforting'.

By the time you reach Blonde Blazer's office, the familiar corridors feel almost soothing. The quiet shuffle of boots and papers, the occasional murmur of conversation, is a gentle counterpoint to the sensory storm you just left.

You knock lightly at the door, more out of ritual than necessity, and her voice calls, "Come in," crisp and commanding as ever.

Opening the door, your surprise flares. Blonde Blazer sits behind her desk, posture immaculate, composure unbroken as always. But standing there, quietly, with a calm and imposing presence, is Phenomaman. The sight is unexpected, and your lips curl into a teasing smirk despite yourself. "Uh... did I interrupt an intimate session?" you ask lightly, the words half-joking, half-observant.

"You have not," Phenomaman replies, smooth and even, there is the faintest trace of delight threading his measured tone.

"WHAT—NO!" Blonde Blazer exclaims in unison, hands instinctively rising as if to shield herself from the suggestion. The collision of their reactions hangs in the air, like sparks caught mid-flight, and you cannot help but raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.