Paragon to Pavement 6

“Ayyy, new meat!”

If there was something Sky had to give the SDN credit for, they at least seemed to put money in the places where it was necessary.

“Aww, I was hoping it’d be another girl.”

The uniforms may have been basic, the plants were definitely plastic and the lights absolutely were the same fluorescents that never seemed to change no matter what universe or earth it was, but-

“Sonar, sweetheart, Blazer’s been saying ‘he’ and ‘his’ for, what, three weeks now?”

“Yeah, Mal, but Sky sounds like a chick’s name, y’know?”

But they didn’t seem to skimp on what really mattered. 

“I call dibs!”

And, in this case, all those funds seemed to have gone straight towards soundproofing.

Because the second the door slid open, the noise met him across the face like a backhand from Royd. 

“Why do you get dibs?”

“‘Cause I called it, Invisi-bitch.”

Sky stood in the doorway, blue eyes wide as he took in the absolute circus in front of him.

As much as he’d done the reading on his teammates — more than he read the employee handbook before he threw both in the trash — it was a whole different thing to see them in person. For one, no matter how detailed, files never seemed to do a good job at capturing the raw chaos that was seeing a new motley crew of superhumans.

On the far couch sat a woman who was easily a half foot taller than he was, and at least a whole foot shorter than Royd. Scarlet-red skin almost seemed to glow under the white lights above as she looked up from the magazine she was reading, pupilless yellow eyes actually glowing. Two horns curved from her head, a demon tail lazily flicked out from behind her pair of daisy dukes, her white tank top somehow standing out more than everything else considering what it was holding back. 

Jesus… Sky almost looked away, mouth suddenly dry. I mean… 

She was so big and took up so much room that it took Sky a full second to notice the jagged sword the size of a surfboard leaning against the wall next to her. So, that’s Malevola then.

He’d have to be both blind and stupid to not recognize the giant half-demon from her file.

Luckily for Sky, everyone else was just as distinct.

Sitting right next to the demon was a long-legged, long-armed man who was dressed more like he belonged on Wall Street than a superhero break room. In an all black suit, complete with red tie done up in a Windsor knot, he could have been just a guy if it wasn’t for the fact that he had the oversized fluffy gray head of a literal bat. Huh… 

Well, Paragon had just as weird.

Pacing in the center of the room was a tall tan guy with a five-o’clock shadow and a ponytail, his body stuffed in a flame-emblazoned bodysuit with a neckline that went low enough to show off too much chest hair. 

Over by the sink, a guy with a mustache and a rose tattoo on his overbuilt forearm was casually shadowboxing. Not all that weird, but the fact that he stood no taller than Sky’s waist made it look kinda crazy. Good form, though.

Standing not too far from the midget in suspenders, a dark-skinned woman leaned back against the wall, eyes a weapon on their own behind her silver domino mask. Black-and-gray wings — the metal on them polished enough to shine — rested flush against her back, the things looking sharp enough to cut from here. 

On the whole other side of the room by the vending machine, a mass of clay, mud, and mismatched mechanical debris seemed to be deciding on what exactly it was he felt like eating today. Glowing yellow eyes blinked slowly over, deep-set in a blunt face.

Finally, standing by the coffee machine and fridge were two women. One was smaller, her hair short, violet and spiked up, a septum ring to go along with the whole punky look of her cropped jacket. 

The other was a Black woman with a sharp bob split half-and-half hot pink and purple(?), a visor hiding her eyes as she wore a tight and colorful bodysuit designed to do almost the absolute opposite of hiding her ass.

Half the conversation died the second Sky actually stepped into the room, eight pairs of eyes snapping directly over to the doorway in near-unison.

“Look at this cute little YN they brought us.” The girl with the split-dyed hair spoke first, her voice bright, strong, and dripping with LA influencer gloss. Prism looked Sky up and down, a colorful acrylic adjusting her visor as she nudged an elbow into the woman next to her. “Okay, SDN, I see the vision.”

Yeah, we’re not doing that. Sky’s spine locked even as he raised a hand and he slowly stomped into the room. “Yo. I’m Sky.”

“Ah, the new blood is here!” The broad-shouldered man in the flaming bodysuit spun completely around, chest puffing out like a rooster. A three-fingered hand pointed at Sky, the ‘fire and flame’ man grinning widely for all of a second before it faded with a shrug. “I assume you are the one Blazer has been hyping up? Because frankly? I am underwhelmed.”

Bro, you’re missing fingers and eyebrows. The hell you evaluating? Sky just stared back at him with nothing but a blink to offer. “...so am I.”

“Fuck you say?!” The man in the bodysuit scowled back at him, volume jumping as he bucked his head forward. “I am Flambae! I have burned down better men than you!”

Before Sky could tell the arsonist to try it and see how fast he got folded, the air to his right shifted and Sky moved with only instinct as guide.

A fist that could crater a skull into shards pulled back at the last moment as the violet-haired woman burst into visibility, suddenly standing inches from his face. F-fuck! He dropped his hand back, biting back a hiss as he glared at the no-longer-invisible woman that had just popped into his personal space. “I almost…”

“Punched me?” The smell of cherry lip gloss hit his nose, her voice sharp and nasal. “I’m kinda tough.”

More like killed you. Five fingers flexed, Sky carefully undoing his fist as he looked the woman up and down, the tightness in her breathing noticeable. “Yeah, not that tough.”

“Ooh, he bites.” Invisigal’s eyes raked over his burnt neck, voice edged with a lot of things he didn’t like. “I’m liking the scars. Very edgy.” She leaned in, fingers going for the burn scars over his shoulder and arm. “Very ‘I sleep in an alley and stab people for bus money’ chic.”

Don't touch me. One gloved hand almost shoved her back before Sky caught himself again, hands clenching tight at his side. “Watch how you talk to me and back the fuck up.”

Invisigal laughed back in his face, the sound short and harsh. “Whatever, you’re the one walking in here looking like a stray dog.”

“Leave the poor bloke alone already, Invisigal.” A dry voice echoed from the couch, Malevola not bothering to look up from her magazine. “That’s a waste of time. He looks like he wants to jump out the bloody window already.”

“Lady Lucifer’s right!” The tiny Irishman barked out a laugh that drew eyes his way, including Sky’s. “Ah, for fuck’s sake, give him space! Let the lad breathe.” He grinned back at Sky as he bounced up and down on his toes. “I’m Punch Up, by the way! You don’t look like much of a Ranger, son. Got some wear on the knuckles, you do. You a brawler?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Sky eased up a little, breath in his chest coming easier at the question. “Scrapper, actually.”

“I know that word!”

“More than a fighter, Punch Up.” From the wall, the woman with the metal wings spoke up, a strong hint of French clipping the edges of every syllable. “The eyes of someone who knows where to cut.” Coupé eyed him slowly, her posture perfectly still where she stood. “Swift as the night, sharp as my knife. I respect this.”

Okay, Shakespeare. Sky blinked. Chill out.

“Be real…” Sonar somehow managed to roll a pair of white eyes lacking a pupil, his voice a droning deadpan that sounded completely absurd coming from a fanged snout. “He’s just another supe. Crazy scars, sure, but nothing special. I, on the other hand, am a Harvard graduate. And a Chiropteran.”

Sky stared at Sonar. “You buggin’, bro.” 

“I eat bugs, actually. Highly nutritious.” The bat adjusted his red tie with a clawed thumb. “Food of the future. Real big in SF right now.”

“You’re a bat in a suit.” Sky deadpanned back. “You’re a bat-man.”

“More of a man-bat, but otherwise factual.”

“Ignore him, bruh.” From the corner, the humanoid hill rumbled, words rolling out a half beat too late as it echoed through an earthen chest. “Bat guy’s just weird. I’m Golem.” A muddy limb aimed up at the vending machine, the side with the drinks at least. “You want a Mountain Dude?”

“No, fuck this guy!” Flambae barked again, hands up as he moved them with each syllable. “He thinks he’s hot shit. I’m the hot shit here.”

Shutupshutupshutup. Sky rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache building behind his forehead that had nothing to do with shock collars or suppression cuffs. Shut up!

“Are y'all deadass right now?” 

The question was for the whole room, his voice cutting through the noise as he tried to drag things back to something close to reality. “This is a superhero team? This is supposed to be the rehab program?”

“Rehab is a strong word.” Malevola turned a page with a sigh. “I find dumpster fire with decent pay is more accurate.”

“Decent?” Flambae almost spat the word. “We’re right next to fucking LA. I can barely afford a one-bedroom.”

“Girl, don't hate on the brand,” Prism called over, adjusting her visor again as she flashed Sky a camera-ready smile. “We’re a work in progress. But you, little nigga? You’re gonna look great in the background of my next stream.”

Sky just scowled back at her. 

“Not you all broody.” She waved a manicured hand his way, the other holding up her phone at him. “Gimme a smile.”

“I’m not streaming shit with you.” Sky shot back, exhaustion leaking into his voice. “Where’s our dispatcher? What’s our jobs for today?”

“Testing. Testing.” As if on cue, his earpiece crackled with a sharp burst of static in his ear, a voice speaking right in there. “Hello, can you hear me? Good morning, Z-Team! This is your new dispatcher. Checking in for my first shift.”

Sky tapped his earpiece, the rest of the team doing the same.

“My name’s Robert Robertson III. It’s a pleasure to be working with all of you!”

For three seconds, the room was dead silent.

Then, the dam broke.

Punch Up doubled over where he stood, clutching his stomach as he howled loud. Invisigal snorted hard enough she choked, the woman leaning against the counter as she swore through shallow breaths. Flambae threw his head back, barking at the ceiling, and even Malevola was chuckling a little behind her magazine.

“You fuckin’ with me?” Prism gasped out, influencer polish giving way to snorts. “Tell me that’s not your real na—”

Sky couldn’t take another second of this; the noise, the egos, the absolute bullshit. He needed out. He needed a target.

He needed a—

“HEL-LO, MR. ROBERTSON!” Sky shouted, voice hard and loud enough to drown out the laughter in the room. His tone dropped instantly into the forced preppy politeness Sky had grown used to using, specifically for whoever was holding his leash. “Good morning, sir. Can I take the first dispatch, please?” I just want to get the fuck out of here.

“Uhhh…” Over the comms, Robert Robertson III stammered, the dry voice on the other end more than a little surprised. “Uhh… well, sure, of course. Let me just check what we’ve got on the board here…” 

The sound of typing echoed over the line. 

“Okay, got one. Sky, how good are you with kids?”

Sky blinked.

“...why?”