The new uniform itched.
Alex shifted uncomfortably in the back of the government van, the armored walls humming with energy dampeners. He wore dark khaki pants and a neatly pressed blue shirt—standard Dispatcher attire, similar to a police uniform but with reinforced seams and light armor weave. A headset wrapped around his ear, linked directly to the government command system.
On his chest: DISPATCHER – LEVEL UNKNOWN.
He was officially, legally, someone. Not just an awakened nobody. Not a disgraced ex-dispatcher.
Now he had a badge.
And a mission.
Agent Desrick sat across from him, tapping a holo-screen with a tired expression.
"Three awakened events in two hours. All within Sector 9."
Alex raised a brow. "Events? Not people?"
"Animals," Desrick muttered. "Birds mostly. One goat. And a cat that now shoots laser beams when it meows."
"...Seriously?"
"Shot a fruit vendor in the eye. We gave it an F-Rank."
Alex leaned back. "So I'm catching cats now."
"You're field testing your power," Desrick corrected. "If Vault or any of your summons break containment rules, it's on you. If they save someone—good. If they blow up a bus stop, you're benched."
Alex nodded. "Understood."
The van screeched to a halt.
"Let's see what you can do."
---
His new workplace was inside the Dispatch Building, a steel-and-glass government complex nestled between Hero Oversight HQ and Emergency Services.
His personal room was on the second floor—a compact but efficient space. Fresh paint. A large monitor on the wall. A control desk with biometric scanners. His headset synced directly to the system, allowing real-time updates. He even had a sliding chute built into the wall next to his desk—the Hero Slide, as it was called—which transported summoned heroes quickly into the field via a magnetic propulsion tube.
Next to it: a freshly unboxed government computer, already loaded with Dispatch protocols and summon records.
When a situation was flagged by emergency sensors, it would ping his system, upload the target zone, estimated threat rank, and whether a hero was necessary.
It was efficient.
Clean.
And most importantly—his.
There was only one major drawback.
His power consumed mental energy.
Every time Alex summoned a hero, a pulse of thought drained from his mind. A sharp pull, like a migraine blooming behind the eyes. The longer the hero stayed, the deeper the mental fatigue. If he pushed too far, he risked collapsing—or worse, summoning something he couldn't control.
He could only summon one hero at a time. Switching between heroes required him to first dismiss the current one, which caused a temporary energy drain.
He hadn't told Desrick the full truth about any of this.
---
The first call was a school.
An entire kindergarten had been locked down because a flock of glowing sparrows had nested on the roof, zapping power lines and swooping at anyone nearby. When Alex stepped out of the van, the children cheered.
"Hero guy!"
"Is that the pole man again?!"
Alex smiled awkwardly.
He whispered, "Dispatch."
Vault materialized in a blur of light and metal, spinning his pole into a ready stance.
"Orders?"
"Get those birds down safely. No electrocutions."
Vault didn't speak. He leapt—straight up the side of the building with a single pole thrust—and began vaulting from chimney to ledge, gently swatting sparrows away from the wires.
The crowd gasped.
Desrick muttered, "At least this one has showmanship."
Alex winced slightly, pressing a hand to his temple.
The first summon always hit like a jolt.
As Vault moved with grace through the air, Alex reached into his supply case—a baton had been recovered from a former security officer's kit. Electrified, broken at the handle but still humming with static.
A gift. Or an upgrade.
He tossed it to Vault.
The pole glowed.
Merged.
And now, lightning danced along Vault's pole tip. Controlled, arcing softly. A power enhancement.
Alex smiled. Upgrading heroes through items was real.
---
By mid-afternoon, Alex had summoned Zipline to rescue a group of construction workers from a collapsing scaffold.
He called Circuit to shut down a rogue washing machine that had awakened with a "bubble barrage" ability.
And he summoned Magician—twice. Once to calm a panic in the subway using illusions of calm water. Another time to turn a truckload of rampaging squirrels into harmless mist, which confused even him.
"Are they dead?" Alex asked nervously.
"No," Magician said with a grin. "Just very, very confused. Don't worry, they'll remember nothing but peanuts and jazz."
Each summon left Alex a little paler.
By the time Magician disappeared, his hands were trembling.
---
The day was going well.
Until the emergency call came in.
A Class C villain had awakened inside an apartment block—a man named Harlan Mave, previously arrested for embezzling pharmaceutical funds.
His power?
Rust Touch.
Everything he touched corroded. Metal, bone, flesh.
He had gone mad, locking himself in the top floor with three residents. One had already died.
Desrick, watching the feed, scowled. "We were supposed to leave this to tactical teams."
Alex stood. "Let me try."
"You sure?"
"If I can't stop him, I'll call for backup. But my summons might get through."
---
The building was falling apart when he arrived.
Stairs had rusted into nothing. Pipes burst. The air tasted like old blood.
Alex stood at the base of the crumbling complex, closed his eyes, and focused.
"Dispatch."
A pulse of light. A new figure stepped forward.
Not Vault. Not Circuit.
A woman in faded robes, barefoot, her hands glowing with soft white energy.
"Name?" Alex asked.
She smiled sadly. "Healer."
Perfect.
"Can you get to the survivors inside?"
She nodded and vanished in a shimmer.
Alex followed—slow, careful. Floor by floor, the walls melted underfoot. Rust bloomed like cancer.
At the top, he saw the villain.
Harlan stood near the edge, shaking, his arms black with corrosion. "Don't come close! I can't stop it!"
"I'm not here to fight," Alex said. "You need help."
"I didn't want this!"
"I believe you. Let me help."
Behind Harlan, Healer reappeared with two coughing survivors. One was unconscious.
The third looked up at Alex and whispered, "Please… save him too."
Alex looked at Harlan.
And made a decision.
"Dispatch," he whispered again.
A new light. A new figure.
A man in a grey cloak with mechanical gloves. His face was half-metal, half-human.
He stepped forward.
"Name?"
"Fixer."
He walked calmly toward the villain, scanning him. "You've been cursed by a volatile mutation. You don't need punishment. You need control."
Harlan backed away. "Don't touch me!"
"I don't fix people," Fixer said gently. "I fix what breaks them."
His gloves lit up, gears spinning. He pressed one hand to Harlan's shoulder.
The rust halted. Spread slowed to a crawl.
Harlan's breath caught in his throat as the corrosion stopped consuming him.
"What did you do?" he whispered.
"Paused it. It won't advance unless you want it to." Fixer stepped back. "Your power is tied to grief. Work through it, and maybe... it won't need to destroy you."
Harlan dropped to his knees, sobbing.
Alive.
Free.
---
The mission was a success.
Alex had saved everyone.
Even the villain.
Desrick didn't speak during the ride back. He just stared at the report logs, occasionally muttering, "Huh…"
When they reached headquarters, he stopped Alex at the elevator.
"You're not like the others."
Alex blinked. "That bad?"
"No. That rare."
He handed Alex a new ID.
DISPATCHER – PROBATION UPGRADE TO RANK B.
"You might actually change something," Desrick said, stepping away. "Just don't die before I retire."
---
That night, in his bunk, Alex stared at the ceiling.
He didn't understand his power yet. Or why some heroes seemed… haunted.
But when he called, they came.
And they helped.
Maybe that was enough—for now.
Outside his window, in the dark corners of the city, something else stirred.
Not a villain.
Not a hero.
But a memory in metal.
Something old.
Something waiting.
And it, too, was listening for the call.