#z-team polycule

[bluueejayart]

He's having his mandated floor time, leave him alone y'all

Tap for better quality

[crimson-hope]

Imagine Robert being forced onto mandatory PTO; post game. Like whatever The SDN has for HR is like "Robert, you NEED to take time off. We aren't running a sweatshop. The SDN won't fall apart if you rest" Famous last words.

He argues. He bargains, but nope he was forced to take 2 weeks off. He's pouting the whole time in his shitty apartment.

Now back at the SDN. The Z-Team are NOT happy. They're saddled with a rando that does NOT know how handle them at all. They're sent off crying in the first 2 hours. "Mandy" is still off duty due to Chase and her trying fix his condition. So many HR complaints day 1. By day 3 the rest of the Z-Team are put on PTO.

They of course immediately invade Robert's apartment. They use this time to make his apartment less shitty and to feed him.

2 new rules are implemented. 1: If Robert is off for more than 2 days, for reasons other than medical, the Z-Team are also to be scheduled off. 2: No newbies are allowed to be placed as Z-Team's Dispatcher.

[enigmaticcattic]

I headcanon that Robert is an absolutely horrendous driver. All that technical savviness and control he shows with his mech suit does not translate into driving an actual car. And the z-team only finds this out after unfortunately suggesting he be their designated driver after a night out drinking (for this scenario he's managed to scrounge up enough money to buy a busted-up rental car. It was not busted when he got it.)

To put it simply: they're all traumatized

[cylbik]

didnt bother coloring this lol

[dollydully]

based on this post

saw the above ^ and went "hey that's the group of idiots i've been invested in for the past month

[bardicinsomnia]

Is this death?

Victor can’t tell.

It’s impossibly bright, and he’s floating. Not flying, not hovering, but like. Like gravity has fucked off to nowhere and left him… not even dangling. Just. Here. In a void of pure light, tethered to nothing, holding onto nothing.

Almost as soon as the thought passes through his mind, it’s like there’s a ripple. Like the thought is a drop on the surface of the water. Energy introduced to a closed system. SDN Torrance comes to life around him, floors and walls, wires and lights, furniture and fixtures, disparate pieces of a child’s dollhouse plugged together. Before he knows it Victor is standing in the breakroom, staring at his own reflection in the glass of the vending machine. 

It’s gotta be a dream. Or death. Or a death dream? Gravity still doesn’t feel quite right. The label on the twinkies just reads: “Twinks”.

“I don’t think you need me to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyways: that was fuckin’ stupid, Sonar.”

“I’m not stupid, asshole. What part of ‘Harvard graduate’ is so hard for you to–”

Victor isn’t stupid, is the thing. He’s reckless, borderline self-destructive, a little too quick to jump on an opportunity and way too quick to fuck it up, but, like. He didn’t get into Harvard just on daddy’s money either. He’s seen interviews of Mecha Man out of the suit and when he turns around he sees the same lean face, the same strong jaw with the same five o’clock shadow, the same piercing eyes, just. Without the mask. Add mousey hair and a few painful-looking scars. An SDN office uniform shirt and a pair of dark jeans instead of the armored undersuit, and a voice that is way too fucking familiar.

But he doesn’t have a reflection. He moves like– like a video game character, like a bad simulation, like his feet aren’t actually touching the floor. When he drops into the chair, his clothes don’t get any more ruffled, his skin doesn’t dimple and distort at the contact points, like he’s a jpeg poorly photoshopped in. 

Victor’s fucking head hurts. He tries to swallow, but there’s nothing to swallow, no throat to move, no muscles to answer him. Threads of panic threaten to choke him. “Robert?”

“Harvard brain had to work hard for that one, huh?” He sighs. Smiles. That looks real at least. A little wry, a little tight around the edges, but. Real. “Yeah, this is– it’s me.”

Victor is breathing, just. Very, very slowly. He can feel the air scraping its way down his throat, his lungs expanding way slower than they should be. Not even like his body hasn’t caught up with the panic. It’s like time itself slowed down. Or, maybe, time has sped up? And he’s as slow as he’s always been. “Where– where are we?”

“Inside the Astral Cradle. Inside me. Kinda.” The whole building feels that statement. For a moment, Victor can see through the seams, back out into that bright void. There are red strings weaving their way through, bright like blood, unwinding and dissipating in the far distance. 

“You’re in isolation right now,” Robert says like an apology, and the world resettles again. “I’d really rather not give Shroud access to me through your mods. I’m working on cracking them, it’ll just be another sec.”

Right. Right. Not the weirdest thing this week, honestly. Five impossible things before breakfast. Victor wobbles over to the other chair and carefully lowers himself into it. It feels real enough. Solid enough. Victor wouldn’t have been surprised if he just dropped through it, honestly. 

There are more intelligent things he probably should be saying, but it’s the first thing that comes to his mind, and he’s never had that good of a brain to mouth filter:

“Does this count as topping you? Asking for a bet– a friend, I mean a friend.”

[dirtycombatboots]

Z-polycule forming around divorced Flambert

Flambae: back off! That's my husband! I'll kill you all!

Team: Dude, you had your chance, you blew it. Ex-husband. Step aside and accept your loss, it's our time to shine

[king-of-dragons]

My rankings of Dispatch ships:

Peak: Z-team polycule, Flashflood/Waterprism

Not quite peak but still amazing: Invisimechablazer

Very good: Invisimech, Mechablazer, Any other monogamous ship