Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 10: Veil

Her lips curve slightly, a subtle exhale escaping as though the tension in the room has eased a little. "Good," she murmurs, eyes holding yours steadily. "I'm glad you made it through. It's... a lot, I know. But I trust you can handle it."

You lift your clipboard, sliding it toward her, revealing pages dense with notes, observations, and frantic margin scribbles. It was your feeble attempt to capture every moment of the visit.

"Well, first of all... there were two of them," you say, letting a small, amused smile tug at your lips. Blonde Blazer's eyebrows rise in surprise, mirroring your quiet amusement. "Sonar and Malevola, they are housemates. Surprise! And yes, I may have gone slightly overboard evaluating both for the program instead of just one."

You pause for effect, letting the imagery settle. "Honestly... it was like trying to document a hurricane while riding a rollercoaster at the same time. I don't think any program was built for this level of... unconventional domesticity."

Blonde Blazer leans forward, scanning your notes with practiced precision, eyes narrowing slightly as she absorbs the layers of observations, nuances, and barely contained chaos you have recorded. After a long moment, she looks up, blue eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. "So... what did you really think of them?"

You pause, letting the memories wash over you.

A soft, warm smile spreads across your face. "They are promising candidates," you say, voice steady yet carrying an undercurrent of subtle fondness. "Both of them. They are... complicated, yes, but capable. They are willing, which matters more than perfection."

Blonde Blazer exhales softly, the tension easing from her posture as relief colours her features. "Wow... that's good to hear. At least we've secured two for the program?" Her tone carries a flicker of hope, delicate but unmistakable.

"Yeah," you reply quietly, reverently almost. "We can work with them."

You lean back in the chair, and a fond warmth spreads through your chest, small but insistent.

---

After everything, you head home.

Royd, Evan, Galen, and Chase had tried, half-concern, half-camaraderie, to drag you out for a drink, but you politely declined, claiming exhaustion from the past few days, sealing it with a smile they never questioned. Blonde Blazer had even offered to join. Their faces held a quiet mix of disappointment and understanding, and you let it follow you out into the streets.

But you weren't tired in the way they imagined.

The key turns. The lock clicks. That ordinary sound cuts you off from the world you are supposed to belong to. The hallway is dim; city lights drip through the blinds in thin, molten streaks. The apartment greets you with a silence that is too aware, too knowing, an intimacy that presses against your chest and makes you wonder how much of yourself it has already seen.

That familiar heat, rage, grief, something heavier than either, rolls through your ribs until your hands shake.

Tonight is the night.

You move through the dark without touching a light. You do not need one. Your body knows every step, every corner, every shadow. The air hangs thick.

You kneel beside the bed. The mess of unfolded clothes swallows your movements, muffling the scrape of your knees against the floor. Fingers sifting through fabric, you finally hit metal, cold, unyielding, absolute.

The briefcase.

You pull it out, and your stomach knots. You do not open it right away. You rest your hand on the lid, feeling the faint hum beneath your palm. It vibrates with everything you wish you were not. The anger you cannot put down, the grief you keep pretending you have outrun, the vengeance that keeps dragging you back into the dark.