Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 11: Revenant

A subtle tap in just the right spot triggers the mechanism, with a metallic click that echoes softly off the walls. The camouflaged panel slides aside, revealing the hidden compartment behind it. The interior hums faintly with electricity, the glow of exposed circuitry tracing intricate patterns along the walls. Sleek. Minimalist, but entirely functional, a shrine to precision and control.

And there it is.

Your old companion.

Your mask.

Hand‑forged and continuously rebuilt, its dents and scratches form a private chronicle of every fight you have survived. You lift it with the reverence reserved for something that has saved your life more times than pride allows you to admit.

The metallic jaw catches the dim bunker lights.

As you tilt it, the respirators on either side thrum awake, their adaptive filtration system shifting through calibration cycles with insect‑like precision. Each micro‑valve clicks softly, adjusting to detect and filter toxins, smoke, and aerosolised chemicals. A thin plume of violet vapour escapes from hidden vents, faintly iridescent, curling upward like ghostly breath.

Not purely aesthetic: a cooling system, a psychological weapon, an intimidation cue that flares brighter whenever your heart rate spikes.

Inside, the padding warms against your skin the moment it senses proximity. Biometric sensors come to life, reading your pulse, tracking the rhythm of your breath, and mapping the contours of your face, so the mask becomes an extension of bone and muscle rather than an accessory.

The thermal-regulated breathing system adjusts instantly, cooling the air you inhale, ensuring you never fog the aviator-style goggles that accompany it or gasp like you are wounded in a fight. The breath-sound dampener engages; your exhale disappears into complete silence.

Even you cannot hear it.

Beneath the nose bridge, concealed directional speakers hum as the comms link locks on. Instead of leaking into the air, the audio tunnels through subtle vibrations along the mask, straight into your inner ear. No sound escapes. No message leaks. The hydrophobic shell shimmers faintly as it repels dust, sweat, and dried blood, leaving the surface unnervingly clean no matter how violent the night becomes.

But its true heart lies deeper, the voice modulator embedded within the inner frame. When you pull the final strap tight, the mask seals with a sharp, decisive hiss. It vibrates against your jaw as it rewrites your tone into something unrecognisable.

"Hello," you murmur, and the sound that emerges is not yours. It is deeper, roughened, threaded with a low, digital undertone that twists your voice into something.

This mask was not just your creation; it was your masterpiece.

You tap the panel and the wall rotates again, revealing the rest of your equipment neatly arranged across the workbench.

Your suit lies spread out, sleek and precise, like a shadow brought into shape.

You start with the chest binder, a custom piece that blends compression technology with protective armour, doubling as a lightweight bulletproof vest. It presses firmly yet evenly against your ribs, steadying your breathing, anchoring your core, and sharpening your focus.

Next, you slide into the reinforced undershirt, with its cool, smooth fabric against your skin, woven with carbon-fibre microthreads that flex and shift with every movement. It hugs your body like a second skin, adjusting subtly as you breathe and move, offering quiet protection from scrapes, knocks, and sudden impacts. It almost feels alive, reacting instinctively to your motions, giving you the sense that you and the suit are already in sync.