Your Grace Holds Me Now
Sonar - Dispatch
Rating: PG13
➤ Sonar gets cut from Z-Team and immediately goes on a self-destructive spree. Robert thinks you're the only one who can talk him down.
Combing your fingers through your hair, you sighed as you closed your locker and got ready to head home for the day. The shift had been long and exhausting and there was nothing more you wanted than a stiff drink and a hot shower.
As you swung your bag over your shoulder and turned toward the locker room exit, Robert came rushing in, head on a swivel and eyes wide. "Oh, you're still here, good." He physically relaxed when he saw you, shoulders dropping from their once tense and rigid position.
"I'm effectively not here, actually," you told him. "As a matter of fact, consider me gone. Pretend I left fifteen minutes ago."
You tried to push past Robert but he sidestepped in front of you, blocking your path. His mouth was stretched into a tight line and his eyes flickered with a hint of concern that set your instincts on fire.
"What happened?" you asked.
"It's Sonar," he told you. "He's on some sort of self destructive spree. He's smashing through windows downtown and scaring the public."
You did a mental double take. "What?" You were shocked by what you had just heard. Surely Robert must have been mistaken, it must have been somebody else doing those things. Sure, Sonar was an ex-villain, but his crimes had always been white-collar and never actually put anyone in harm's way.
"He's upset." A look of guilt spread across Robert's face. "I cut him from the Z-Team."
"You did what?" You shook your head. "No, no. It was supposed to be Visi who got cut."
"Her last dispatch put her higher on the leaderboard," Robert explained. "It was between Sonar and Coupe. I had to make a decision."
You furrowed your brows. "What the fuck, Robert? Sonar needs this program; without it, he'll ... he'll ..."
"Go off the deep end?" Robert guessed. "Yeah, I see that now. Which is why I need you to go and talk him down. The two of you are friends, right? He'll listen to you."
"He'll only listen to me if I have something worth listening to," you said, dropping your bag onto the bench beside you. "Don't cut him, Robert. Let me tell him it was all a big mistake. The team needs him. He needs the team."
Robert hung his head, a physical representation of his regret. No, not his regret—if he regretted it, he'd be asking you to go and get Sonar back, not go and soothe his pain. It wasn't regret you were seeing, it was shame. Robert was ashamed of the actions that had resulted from the decision he had made.
"Fine," you agreed. "I'll go find him, but no promises. I'm known for many things, but pep talks aren't exactly my strong suit. That's more your thing, actually."
"Yeah, I doubt he wants to see me right now." Robert scratched the back of his neck. "Just get him to stop scaring people. We've already received multiple calls from the public and it's only a matter of time before we have to dispatch someone to handle the situation less peacefully."
"I'll do my best," you said. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck."
It took about an hour to track Sonar down. After reaching downtown just as the sun was setting, you followed the trail of his destruction—broken store windows, downed lamp posts, cars with caved-in roofs and alarms blaring, scared citizens standing in the streets on the phone with the police and SDN—and eventually arrived to an abandoned warehouse near the docks.
Entering the decrepit building, you stepped over scattered debris and ventured further into the shadows. In the distance, you could hear faint banging and the sound of metal scraping against metal. "Sonar?" you called out. "You in here?"
No response came.
Fishing your phone out of your back pocket, you turned on the flashlight to illuminate your path. The deeper into the warehouse you went, the more the eerie ambiance of the place freaked you out. Of course Sonar couldn't have picked somewhere nicer and more well lit to have his little meltdown.
"Sonar?" you shouted into the darkness once more, your voice echoing around the vast, dilapidated building, bouncing off the walls before fading into nothingness.
Eventually, you made your way to the back of the warehouse, where a large garage door opened up toward the docks. In the distance, the sound of the lapping water was periodically interrupted by the screeching of a half-bat man as he clawed at a pile of wooden pallets, tearing off chunks of wood and sending it splintering along the floor around him.
You had seen Sonar in his hybrid form on many occasions, but for some reason, this time felt different. Before, you had always known the giant bat was on your side. This time, it felt like entering the lair of a wild beast, unsure if it would attack at first sight or not.
Sonar let out another angry screech—the sound loud enough to make you want to cover your ears—as he ripped a plank of wood from the pallet before him and sent it flying toward you. Jumping out of the way just in time, you crashed into a rusty metal shelving unit. The metallic sound bounced throughout the warehouse, just like your voice had, and Sonar's ears perked in your direction.
Wide red eyes settled on you and the destruction ceased. He took one step toward you and then another, his huge chest rising and falling with each breath he drew in.
"Hey, buddy." You stepped closer as well, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "You done throwing a temper tantrum?"
His crimson eyes narrowed and he bared his sharp teeth, an act that you were sure would be more terrifying if you didn't know the hurting man hiding beneath the beast so well.
"Fuck you." His tone was low and gravelly, an octave or two difference from his regular speaking voice.
You settled your hands on your hips and cocked your head. "I saw what you did out there. Kids are crying in the streets, Victor. You're scaring people."
"Good!" he growled. "If I can't be a hero, I might as well go back to being a villain. I refuse to be left to mediocrity. I'm better than that."
You shook your head, hair falling down around your eyes slightly. You pushed the strands back behind your ear and remembered a time when Sonar had been the one to push your hair out of your face, living proof that there was a gentle side to him.
"All of this because you got cut from the Z-Team?" you questioned. "I know it meant a lot to you, but-"
"Fuck the Z-Team," he cursed. His large hand picked up a broken chunk of wood and he squeezed until it splintered into a hundred tiny pieces in his palm. "I don't need them. I don't need you."
Another step forward. "You don't mean that," you told him.
"I know Robert sent you here. Of fucking course he did. Go back and tell him I'm better without that beta-cuck hero bullshit of a job."
You could see the fear of rejection dancing in his dark eyes. Dejection rolled off of him in waves. It was so painfully obvious how hurt he was. All you wanted to do was hold him and assure him everything would be okay.
Throwing caution to the wind, you acted against your better judgement and finally closed the gap between the two of you. Marching up to the giant bat-monster you called a friend, you stopped inches away from his face.
"If you want to scare people, go ahead," you challenged him. "I'm right here. If it'll make you feel better, scare me all you want."
"You think I won't?" Sonar's hand reached up and his long fingers curled around your neck. "You think I have some sort of soft spot for you or something?"
You willed your breathing to remain calm and steady and you felt his grip slowly tighten around your windpipe. "I don't know, do you?"
He didn't respond.
You felt his claws ghosting against the delicate skin of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment and you wiped the sweat from your palms on your pants.
You felt that familiar rush of the lack of oxygen in your brain and swallowed hard. Once you were sure Sonar wasn't going to actually choke you out, you reached up and placed your palm onto the tuft of fur between his blood-red eyes.
"It's okay to be upset," you told him simply. "I would be upset too."
He let out another bone-chilling screech right into your face, spittle dripping from his fangs as he did. "I'm not upset!" he denied. An obvious lie. "I don't need that stupid job to be a winner."
"I know you don't."
That made him falter. For a split second, his grip on your throat loosened and his face softened. In the blink of an eye, he had realized his own weakness and shaken it off. "Stop talking."
You listened to him, giving him the silence he so desperately craved. Instead, you let you hand drift down to the side of his face. You didn't miss the way he ever-so-subtly leaned into your touch.
He released his grip on your throat and moved his hand to your shoulder, gripping to you now not out of frustration but out of need. He was supporting himself on you, caving in more and more to your presence.
Finally, he hung his head. You watched as his ears drooped and his entire body deflated with one long exhale. You could practically see the anger washing away.
"Turn around," he requested. You did so without question or hesitation.
You listened intently to the familiar sound of transformation—to the sound of Sonar turning back into his true form. There was the rustle of fabric, of him getting dressed again in clothes he had the forethought to bring with him.
Then he was behind you and you could see in your mind the familiar image of him adjusting his bright red tie. You could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.
You opened your mouth to ask if you could turn back around, but before you could get a single sound out, his head was resting on your shoulder and you could feel his body shaking with silent sobs.
Your heart shattered.
"They shouldn't have cut you," you said. "You deserve to be there as much as any of us do."
Sonar was too busy trying to quell the storm of emotions to say anything in response.
"I'll talk to Blonde Blazer tomorrow," you kept speaking, your own feelings bursting at the seams. "They have to give you a second chance. They have to. It's not fair."
"No." It was Sonar's turn to be the rational one. "It's over. They warned us someone was getting cut. It's my own fault for not stepping up my game. I should have tried harder."
You spun around, face to face with the version of Sonar you had befriended over the past couple of months. Dressed in his normal black dress pants, navy blue blazer, and red tie, he looked just how you remembered seeing him a few short hours ago. Right before he had been cut.
"It'll be okay." You cupped his fuzzy face in your hands and wiped the stray tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "When one door closes, another opens. Or some cheery bullshit like that."
He let out a strangled chuckle. "I don't think I'm quite ready for cheery bullshit. But thanks anyway."
"Tell me what to do then." You inched forward. "I want to help."
"Don't move," he instructed. You did as he asked, even when he copied your hand positioning and cupped your face with his trembling hands. Even when he leaned forward and kissed you softly. Even when he deepened the kiss, fangs nipping at your bottom lip.
When his tongue slipped into your mouth, your resolve finally broke and you melted into his touch. A soft moan escaped your mouth, which he quickly swallowed. Your hands trailed down his neck to settle on his shoulders.
"Is this helping?" you breathed out between hungry kisses.
"So much." He spoke directly into your mouth. "Oh my fucking God, so much. Thank you. Thank you."
By the time you finally pulled away from the kiss, you were both out of breath. Your hands were locked behind his neck and his hands were gripping harshly at your hips, sure to leave behind a bruise or two.
"Victor." His real name slipped past your lips. "I never knew ..."
"Neither did I. Until this very moment," he told you. "Maybe getting fired was what I needed to open my eyes. I could honestly give two shits about that job, but leaving you is going to suck."
"I'll miss you." You pressed another quick kiss to his snout. "But you aren't dying. We can still see each other."
"You wouldn't mind being seen with someone so pathetic they got kicked off of the Z-Team?" He cocked a single browbone.
You laughed. "As long as you wouldn't mind being seen with someone so pathetic they're still actively on the Z-Team."
"I wouldn't mind at all."
"Neither would I," you said. "Even if you did just rack up a whole new slew of felonies."
Sonar winced. "You mentioned something about children crying in the streets?"
"You're very scary when you want to be," you assured him. "Just not to me. You could never scare me away."
