got some wonderful tags for this one
Imagine being Chad in this situation:
You're fresh out of jail and readjusting to outside life. The Phoenix Program is doing you good. You're reconnecting with you family, and your sister has just trusted you to pick up your little niece from her in-school weekend club.
You and your niece aren't very close. She was born while you where in jail, and you missed out on many milestones.
You stand by your Firebird nervously, trying not to look suspicious to the other guardians.
Your tiny niece runs at you excitedly, a piece of laminated paper clutched in her hands. She offers it to you with a big smile on her face.
"GLAD YOU'RE OUT OF JAIL DAAYI!"
There, proudly in glittery pink text, is your niece's joy at finally getting to know you. She isn't ashamed or pitying of your past, just happy you can move one.
Your niece tugs at your sleeve, wanting to know your opinion.
All you can do is kneel down, hugging her tight. A tear runs down your face as you express the beauty of her gesture.
You think to the actual make of the card.
Chad: "Azizam, was your teacher okay with you printing this?"
Chad's Niece, delighted: "Yeah! He asked questions first, but he helped me print and laminate it too!"
You glance up to the doorway leading into the school. Hiding beyond the crowd of children is the silhouette of a young man. Thin and barely illuminated by the afternoon sun.
You see a soft smile gracing a face decorated with gleaming brown eyes and freckled skin.
You feel your heart catch in your throat.
The Phoenix Program has already granted you so many second chances.
You brush the thought aside for now, buckling your niece into the front passenger seat. You let her have free reign of the radio. You end up listening to Ariana Grande for the entire ride to your sister's place.
At work, you're assigned yet another new Dispatcher.
Blonde Blazer has been up the Z-Team's ass lately about the state of the Phoenix Program. Rumour has it, that whatever shadow committee controls SDN is planning on axeing it completely. Which is bullshit in so many ways.
It wasn't your fault that the Dispatchers couldn't perform under pressure or that some heroes are shit at their jobs. You shouldn't have to pay for it.
The newest meat on the chopping block is a guy named fucking Robert Robertson. That name sounds too stupid to be legal.
He has more balls than most, that's for sure. He even chews you out on-call for a totally mysterious fire that happened at the park. Totally unrelated to you flying without a licence and getting clipped by a stupid fucking tree. With an annoyed sigh, he sends Golem to smother the flames. He grumbles under his breath about you "Cleaning up your own mess."
It's Tuesday and Bob-Bob is still here.
Cut day was nerve-wracking but you kept you cool. Except for when Invisigal locked you in that sensory deprivation tank, and you had a panic attack, and would have drowned if not for Bob-Bob's intervention. Robert managed to avoid cutting anyone by having Invisigal "soft demoted" to a purely investigative role. Sonar and Coupe sighed like men spared from the gallows.
You take pride in your security on the leaderboard.
You get a text from your sister. She agrees to be your emergency pickup. After all, how were you supposed to predict a heartbroken super crushing your beautiful Firebird?
Bob-Bob is sympathetic enough to bump up your flight licence test - but not sympathetic about your (righteous) anger towards the janitor tossing away your lunch. Why was the bitch tossing shit away at lunchtime anyway? Save that shit for closing and there wouldn't have been a problem.
Robert commands the room though, and forces both of you to apologise to one another and explain your actions. Waterboy trudges away with trash noodles on his suit and better janitorial advice. You walk away pretending that you learned empathy or whatever. You're a grown man, you shouldn't be talked down to like you're a grade schooler.
Your sister has responded to your food-based complaints with a curt; "Mom made extra zereshk polo ba morgh, you big baby. Come out to the parking lot."
You skip happily towards the lobby. Mom's chicken barberry rice is the good shit.
You hear a voice calling after you as you enter the parking lot.
It's Bob-Bob. Now what does he want.
With that dumb soft smile, he asks you to watch out for Z-Team's newest part-timer - Waterbitch.
He says that you had some good points back there, and that the nervous wet-dog of a man could gain from your guidance.
Curse him for buttering you up before asking.
You turn and see your sister in her smart compact and very-unfashionable honda waving you over.
Your niece is in the passenger seat, bouncing with all sorts of excitement. Before your sister can stop her, the little girl bolts from the car to your side. You kneel down for the expected cannonball embrace she's known for.
But her focus is not on you, but stupid Bob-Bob.
Chad's Niece: "Mr Robertson!"
Robert, leaning down: "Hi sweetheart!"
Chad: "You know eachother?"
Robert, trying to play it off: "I teach computer literacy classes on weekends."
Chad's Niece: "Mr Robertson helped me make the card I gave you!"
The brown eyes. The freckles.
The way he treats the Z-Team like misbehaving schoolchildren.
Your niece tugs your sleeve.
"Daayi making the face he does when he-."
You smother her into a hug before she can finish her sentence.
Robert lets out a warm laugh. Those eyes sparkling with joy as he watches them. There's a tender longing there, one of a man who loves children and wants some of his own one day.
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