"Well, here we go," Theo muttered to himself, the words a quiet mantra against the tide of his own anxiety.
He left his apartment at 7 a.m., the city still shaking off the dawn's chill. The bus ride was an education in itself. It seemed this particular line was a commuter special for heroes. He shared the space with a woman whose skin shimmered like obsidian, a man casually reading a newspaper while floating cross-legged in the air, and a small, reptilian alien in a tiny business suit. After twenty minutes, the bus hissed to a stop directly in front of a monolithic building emblazoned with huge, silver letters: SDN.
Theo inhaled sharply, clutched the strap of his bag, and entered the lion's den. The entrance was a fortress of security, manned by three intensely focused guards who, he noted with a flicker of amusement, were completely normal, powerless humans. They checked for weapons with practiced efficiency; Theo passed through without a problem, his only "weapon" being the solid black cane.
He approached the front desk, where a young woman was typing away. "Hello, I'm Theo. I'm here for the new dispatcher job. It's my first day," he said politely, handing over his documents.
"Oh, one mo—" she began, but was cut off by a familiar, booming voice.
"AH, THEO! There you are, right on time!" Michael came skipping merrily across the polished floor. He was dressed in his formal black clergy robes but without the usual gleaming armor, giving him a surprisingly approachable, if still radiant, appearance. "It's fine, Sara, I'll take it from here!" he chirped, and before Theo could even nod at the receptionist, Michael had him by the arm, pulling him away.
Theo managed a brief, apologetic look over his shoulder; Sara just smiled warmly, a clear sign she was thoroughly accustomed to Michael's whirlwind nature.
"You came just in time. Now, you need a uniform!" Michael declared, dragging him down a corridor.
"Slow down, will you?" Theo grunted, his bad leg protesting vehemently at the pace.
"Ahhh, the leg! Sorry, my friend," Michael apologized, genuinely chastised, and slowed his step.
"Here we are! The locker rooms are on the first floor."
He pushed open a door to reveal a standard, tiled locker room smelling faintly of antiseptic and sweat. Michael stopped in front of a locker adorned not with a number, but with a single, shining star and the letter 'T'. He looked at Theo expectantly.
"Theodore? Theo? The star?" he prompted, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Theo just stared blankly for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Nothing?" Michael's shoulders slumped in theatrical disappointment.
The key was already in the lock. Inside, a new uniform was neatly folded: a crisp blue button-down shirt and black tactical pants, the SDN logo prominently embroidered on the chest.
"You are no fun," Michael pouted.
"I'm not here to have fun, Michael. I'm serious about this job," Theo stated, his voice firm as he began unbuttoning his own shirt.
Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You will do just fine. After this, we will—" He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his body going rigid. Theo looked at him strangely.
The color drained from Michael's face, and a fine sheen of sweat instantly appeared on his brow. Pure, unadulterated panic widened his brilliant blue eyes.
"Shit. She's near," he whispered, now in a full-blown frenzy. His head swiveled like a radar dish before locking onto a small, high-open window used for ventilation.
"Come to the second floor, room 6B! I'll tell you everything!" The words spilled out of him at a machine-gun pace, and before Theo could form a question, Michael launched himself head-first through the narrow window with the desperate agility of a chased cat, vanishing from sight.
"WTF?" Theo murmured into the sudden silence, his half-unbuttoned shirt hanging open. "What just happened?"
"Oh, he's not here? But... who are you?" A voice, melodious and sweet as honey, traveled to his ears from the doorway. He slowly turned around.
There stood one of the most devastatingly beautiful women he had ever seen. Her hair was a cascade of golden silk that fell to the small of her back. Her eyes were a striking, piercing emerald, set in a face with flawless, porcelain skin. She was clad in pristine white clergy robes that should have looked divine and holy, and in a way, they did.
But something was terribly wrong. It was the look in her eyes—a predatory, unnerving intensity that radiated pure danger.
"Uuuhhh. Hi? This is the men's locker..." he began, but before he could finish, she closed the distance in a heartbeat and pressed a single, perfectly manicured finger to his lips, silencing him. Theo froze, utterly confused.
"You must be the new recruit that Michael was fighting so hard to bring to the SDN," she purred, her gaze raking over his body from head to toe in a slow, appraising sweep. She slowly licked her lips. Her finger began to travel from his lips, tracing a line down his chin, over his throat, and downward across his bare chest. The touch was electric and deeply unsettling.
Theo's instincts screamed. His hand snapped up, catching her wrist just before her finger could dip below his sternum. Her emerald eyes flashed with dangerous amusement.
"Feisty, aren't you?" she cooed, pulling her captured hand back but leaning in so close he could smell her floral perfume. "Now, be a dear and tell me where that little mouse ran off to?"
Theo was stunned by the stark contrast—the angelic face and the utterly crazed, possessive expression. It was a dissonance that made his skin crawl. He shuddered involuntarily.
His brain, short-circuiting, made the executive decision to sacrifice Michael for self-preservation. He simply pointed a trembling finger at the open window.
She glanced at the window and then back at him, her face transforming in an instant into one of beatific, angelic gratitude.
"Thank you, darling." And with the same unnerving grace as Michael, she launched herself through the same narrow window and was gone.
Theo was left alone in the locker room, his shirt still open, his heart hammering against his ribs, staring at the empty window with utter and complete bewilderment. What in the holy hell had he just walked into?
"She is dangerous," he whispered to the empty locker room, the ghost of her touch still lingering on his skin. "Better to stay as far away as humanly possible." Theo exhaled, making a silent vow to himself, a cold shudder running down his spine. Whatever that was, it was a threat more unnerving than a straight-up fight with a villain.
It took him another ten minutes to finish changing, his hands slightly unsteady as he buttoned the blue SDN shirt. Navigating the building using the overhead signs, he finally found the elevator and rode it to the second floor. The doors slid open to reveal a scene of organized chaos.
The dispatch floor was a vast, open-plan hive of activity. Stacks of cubicles housed two dozen different dispatchers—humans, a woman with glitching digital patterns on her skin, a man with four arms typing on two keyboards simultaneously, and a small, furry creature speaking into a headset in a series of rapid-fire clicks. The air was a symphony of overlapping voices and frantic typing.
"Yes, Cup, you go to Kataga street and help a Mister Yama with his… dimensional portal? Again... Fine, just contain it!"
"Lolo, no! You cannot use a civilian's car as a projectile! The insurance forms alone…"
"Hacking the city's traffic grid now. The light should turn green in three… two… one. You're clear, go!"
"Two villains apprehended. Good work. I'll coordinate with the police for pickup right now."
The whole space buzzed with a frantic, vital energy. It was chaotic, but it was a functional, purposeful chaos, and for a moment, Theo was fascinated. No one paid him any mind; everyone was too absorbed in their own miniature crises.
His eyes scanned the perimeter and landed on an office door marked 6B. Making his way through the maze of cubicles, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The cacophony of the dispatch floor faded into a muffled hum, the room boasting impressive soundproofing.
And there, he found Michael. The man was sprawled across his desk, face down, his shoulders rising and falling with ragged, heavy breaths. Beads of sweat dotted his temples and darkened the collar of his black robes.
"Oh, Theo. You're here," Michael mumbled without lifting his head, his voice muffled by the wood. He finally pushed himself up, revealing a pale face and a crooked, strained smile.
"Yes, I am," Theo said, lowering himself carefully into the chair opposite the desk. "And mind telling me what the hell that was in the locker room?"
"That?" Michael laughed, a nervous, brittle sound. He wiped his brow with a trembling hand. "Well, it seems you've met the Saintess. Consider yourself… initiated."
"The Saintess? That Saintess?" Theo's mind raced. He remembered the hero—a powerful support-class legend known for her miraculous healing and barrier powers.
As Aeon, he'd partnered with her on a couple of large-scale operations, but she'd always worn a heavy, ornate vail, her features completely obscured. He'd never given her a second thought.
"What is wrong with her?" Theo asked, leaning forward, his voice low.
"Nothing much," Michael began, his smile twitching. "Well, actually, a lot. She's fucking crazy?" The false smile finally shattered, replaced by a look of genuine, bone-deep horror.
Theo just stared, waiting for an explanation that made sense.
"Just… hah," Michael exhaled, the sound full of exhaustion and dread. He began to massage his temples with both hands, as if trying to physically push the memory away.
"Just stay away from her, Theo. I'm not joking. Do not make eye contact. Do not be alone in a room with her. If you see her coming, find the nearest exit, window, or ventilation shaft. Just… stay away."
"Dude," Theo laughed, a genuine, if slightly bewildered, chuckle escaping him. "It seems like I'm not the one who should be worried about her."
He couldn't help but find the situation darkly amusing. The unflappable Saint Michael, brought to a trembling wreck by a beautiful woman? It sounded like the plot of a particularly dramatic soap opera.
Michael inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, as if trying to steady his very soul. For Theo, it was a surreal sight. This was the man who faced down city-leveling monsters with a brilliant smile and a quip. The man whose composure was as legendary as his power. Seeing him now, pale and sweating in his own office, was as funny as it was alarming.
"Theo, I'm serious," Michael insisted, his voice regaining a sliver of its usual strength, though it was laced with desperation. "Just stay away from her. If she takes an interest in you…" He trailed off, a full-body shudder wracking his frame.
"If that happens, I'm not helping you. I can't. I'll be on the other side of the planet."
"What is she, some kind of yandere?" Theo joked
He meant it as a lighthearted jab, a way to cut the tension.
The effect was instantaneous. Michael, who had just taken a sip of water, choked on it. He sputtered, setting the glass down with a hard clack that echoed in the quiet office. He looked at Theo, all traces of humor gone from his face, his eyes wide with a stark, sobering intensity.
"If there is a word worse than that," Michael said, his voice low and deadly serious. "She would be it."
Theo's smirk finally faded, replaced by a slow-dawning realization. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't an exaggeration. The raw, primal fear in Michael's eyes was one hundred percent real.
"That bad?" Theo asked, his voice now a whisper.
Michael simply gave a single, solemn nod, the gesture carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken horrors.
„Not bad…..WORSE!"