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It started behind the closed doors of Robert’s quiet apartment, far from the chaotic hum of the SDN dispatch desks and the demanding egos of the hero world. Robert and Chad - known to the public as the fiery, hot-tempered villain-turned-hero Flambae - crossed an unexpected line, trading their usual workspace friction for a sudden, charged intimacy. What began as a tentative, vulnerable connection quickly deepened into something terrifyingly real for both of them. But fear caused them to pivot, m

Part XII. Flambae leaned against the side of the building, eyeing his dirtied finger nails with a grimace. He was still at the SDN building, having just retrieved his gym bag from the lockers. He could have left - most of the team already went home. But Robert was still inside and Flambae refused to leave until they could talk. Nothing serious - not here, notnow - but he wanted to extend an invitation. After the Z-Team briefly celebrated their exhausting victory, Blazer told everyo

In the fragile aftermath of battle, literal and emotional armor comes off, leaving Robert and Chad to navigate a landscape of vulnerability and unspoken truths. Intimidated by the prospect, Robert steps into a sleek corporate promotion, using it as a shield to isolate himself and keep Chad's fire at a distance. But the pressure of the impending Mecha Man relaunch pushes Robert’s stress to a boiling point, fracturing his control. What begins as a desperate, high-friction attempt to use a single night of physical release to burn Chad out of his system instead traps them both in a web of missed connections and mounting, unreciprocated feelings.

Part XI. The familiar smell of smog in Los Angeles was coated with a new, acrid scent - the heavy, dark stench of a city tearing itself apart. An unfamiliar alert cut through the late-night static with a chilling command: All heroes to duty. Code Red. The Red Ring wasn't just rioting; they were deconstructing the city, block by block. By the time Flambae stepped into the SDN, the air was thick with panic. Prism, Golem, and Punch Up were already there, huddled in the breakroom and

Part X. At the SDN, the usual mechanical hum of activity had been replaced by a thick and stagnant dread. Down in the dim light of the infirmary, Robert sat with his head buried in his hands, the silence of the room broken only by the rhythmic, artificial puffing of a machine. Chase was still tethered to a ventilator, his life hanging by a thread he’d spun to save a teammate who didn't deserve it. The guilt of it pressed down on Robert’s chest like lead. But it wasn't just Chase h

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Part IX. The urge to burn something was a low, humming vibration in his teeth. Usually, fire was how Flambae reclaimed the world - how he once proved that the quiet, bullied kid from the valley wasn't the one who had to be scared anymore. When you are the flames, you hold the power. But tonight, the familiar feeling of fire felt heavy - more like lead running through his veins. He sat on his couch, still in full hero attire, staring at his reflection in the darkened TV screen.

Part VIII. The last few days were a blur of adrenaline and exhaustion. Between the Red Ring’s surge in Torrance and Chase remaining unresponsive in the infirmary, the Z-Team was at its breaking point. Ever since Invisigal had flagrantly disobeyed orders to hunt down the real astral pulse, Chase had been paying the price - taking a devastating blow to pull her out of a rogue trap she never should have walked into. Now, Invisigal was suspended, Chase was fighting for his lif

Part VII. Robert had his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. As he tucked himself back into his pants he reached for the handle of the toilet which made a hollow ‘dink’ sound… but didn’t flush. “Well this is terribly bad timing…” he said to himself, jiggling the handle a few times unsuccessfully. He let out a groan and exited the bathroom, greeted once again by the chaos of his living room - the blaring music, the constant sound of plastic cups and beer bottle caps tinking off t

Chad sighed and checked his phone again. Still no response from Robert. If this was day one of however many he had to sit out, this week was going to fucking suck. And not in the fun way he would like. Ever since he flirted with Robert this morning, thoughts of the dispatcher doing exactly what he teased were filling his mind the most. He was still too pleased over his clever response when Robert tried to play off that he wouldn’t fit under the desk. Chad knew where he’d love to

Part V. Chad stepped out of the shower, his skin still humming, that post-release lethargy fighting with the natural, restless heat that lived in his marrow. He looked at the bed. The maroon silk bedsheets looked like a disaster, bunched up and damp. The room smelled like sweat, sandalwood and… Robert. "Fuckin’ idiot," Chad muttered, but there was no bite in it. He stripped the bed and grabbed a new set of sheets, making quick work of remaking the bed for tonight’s rest. When he turne

Chad stared down at the weird appetizer in front of him: hot dogs covered in a mixture of grape jelly and barbecue sauce. He twisted his face and looked back at Alice. “At least you picked a Friday to fuck up the whole parking lot,” She reached out to the tray with her toothpick, stabbing another mini hot dog and eating it. “Blazer probably went easy on your ass cuz she's been wanting to get it repaved for months,” Chad grimaced and looked down at his phone again. His mind wasn’t o

Part III. Robert felt like he had no chill. He went home, heated up a shitty microwave dinner (half of which he ended up feeding to Beef) and checked his phone. Then he took a shower - scrubbing away the scent of office stress and vending machine snacks. And checked his phone again. He put on his one pair of jeans and the nicest t-shirt he owned - something gray, instead of the usual SDN-blue. He actually took a moment to try and fix his hair. He didn’t want to look like he spent t

Part II. Flambae smoothed back a piece of hair, pouting his lips as he turned his head to the other side, still checking out his cheekbones in the mirror. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there primping but it was definitely time for coffee. One last check, he told himself, just as Prism strolled into the break room. As usual, her face was in her phone but she looked up for a second and her eyes immediately locked onto the flaming bodysuit standing in front of the lar

Part I. Robert rubbed his neck, wincing as his toothbrush dangled out of his mouth. Frothed toothpaste started to dribble out while he focused on massaging the troubled spot in his trapezius. After rinsing and tossing his brush carelessly back onto the vanity, he leaned into the mirror. “Shit,” he said to his reflection. “I look like shit.” The jingle of a collar sounded at his feet. Beef looked up, his tongue lolling out in a goofy, judgmental grin. “It’s ok, you can be ho