Operation: OnlyHeroes

Already Day 2 of PR training.

As I stand in the cafe line again, about 50 yards, praying I don't run into another kaiju crisis, I scroll through the new phone issued by HR for each order. 

The list is shorter this time. Only four orders. Progress? Or just a lighter day?

Solaris: "Surprise me."

I blink. Then blink again. Then read it a third time just to make sure it was the reason my nose was bleeding.

"Surprise me" is anything but an order.

Trailblazer: "One Gatorade. Blue. A pack of those little donuts with the powdered sugar. One can of Red Bull and a Monster. Actually, make it two each. Actually, make it three and just put them in a bag."

Ms. Void: "Black coffee. No sugar. No cream. No joy."

No joy. She wrote that. In the official order. HR just... take that in stride.

All-Star: "Iced coffee. Please."

Those three is simple enough. At least.

In about 25 to 35 minutes, I can finally see the baristas behind the counters. Just three more people until it’s my turn to place orders. Until…

“Oh. My. Gosh!” a voice yells from across. I turn to the side of where it came from and…

“You’re that Latte Lad guy, right?” Blonde teen girl with sunglasses, short jorts and a bra– it’s cloudy with a chance of rainfall tody outside.

“Uum… No?” Smooth, Tobias. Smooth.

“Dude, I’m like a huge fan. Like, that way you held that latte for dear life was sooo hot, I told my man that day if he doesn’t hold me in public look you did with that latte, we’re breaking up.”

Of course, you did.

I laugh. Nervously. Cause how was I gonna deal with being fangirled?

“Look, I hear you, but I–”

“I know, I know you’re a busy guy, but can I take a selfie or video with you real quick?”

There it is. 

“Listen, I just came here to get coffee, I don’t ne–”

“PLEEAAASSSSEEE!” Even giving me the puppy eyes.

I really can't 'no' my way out of this shit.

I  look around and sigh, "Fuck it."

She beams, "Is that a yes?"

"No. It's a 'Fuck it'."

She pulls out her phone, set it to selfie to video mode.

"Okay, Tiktok," she starts to the camera. "I'm here at a cafe, getting a coffee milkshake cause even though this body is tea, it literally runs on fricking caffeine."

Small beat.

"God forbid, I'm trynna be a morning girl! Then all the sudden, New Chicago's CEO of lattes comes in here, waiting in line to order lattes like us normies."

Then she directs the camera towards me. I freeze. My smile is frozen. My soul is frozen. Everything is frozen except my eye, which twitches involuntarily.

She keeps going, completely oblivious to my internal meltdown.

"So, like, I know you're probably super busy saving the day and stuff, but I just got like a few questions the internet wants to know the answer to. Just for funsies."

"Hit me." 

What the actual fuck, Tobes.

"So, like, we all know Trailblazer is the fastest man in the Ascendents... like 'flee-to-another-country-on-foot-in-30-seconds-fast', rights? So, like... I dunno, why does he and them need you on coffee runs?"

Good question…

“Eh,” I shrugged. “The former, your guesses are as good as mine, I’m just a guy trying to do my job and hopefully lend a paycheck. The latter, Trail is a guy who’s trying to be everywhere all at once. How could you not think that’s ADHD-coded?”

The girl's eyes light up at my ADHD-coded comment about Trailblazer. She practically vibrates with excitement.

"OH MY GOD, RIGHT?!" she screeches, and I instinctively lean back to protect my eardrums. "I've been saying this for YEARS! Like, the man literally cannot sit still in any interview. There's that one clip where he's vibrating in his seat during a press conference and someone asks him about world peace and he just goes 'cool cool cool cool cool' and then zooms off mid-sentence!"

"He did that at a charity gala last week," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. "Someone asked him about his charity work and he just—" I demonstrate by making a whooshing sound and flailing my arms. "—gone. Left his jacket. Left his shoes. Left his entire drink on the table. Just vanished."

She's cackling now. "NO WAY."

"Way. I had to write a press release about it. 'Trailblazer's commitment to efficiency is unparalleled.' That was the spin."

"That's so fucking funny," she wheezes. "Wait, wait, wait—so like, you actually have to write those statements? The ones where they say 'heroes are human too' and 'we're committed to transparency' and all that?"

I stare at her. Then at the camera. Then back at her.

"Sometimes I just open a document and type 'heroes are human too' and then stare at it for twenty minutes trying to figure out what that even means."

She's dying. "You're literally just making shit up."

"PR is just making shit up with a thesaurus and a straight face."

"Okay, but like—" She leans in, the phone still trained on me. "—what's the wildest thing you've had to spin? Like, what's the one that almost broke you?"

I think about it. The rooftop rave. The sorority fire. The "penetration test" (which I am absolutely not mentioning). The deepfake. OptikMaster's death.

"Define ‘wild’."

“That bad?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Like…You know that rooftop thing? With Trailblazer? The one where he was—" I gesture vaguely. "—surrounded by people and half-dressed and it was trending under #SmashAndDash?"

"Oh my God, YES. That was iconic."

"That was my first day."

Her jaw drops. "NO."

"My literal first day. I hadn't even finished my orientation packet. The senior intern—they shove a tablet in my hands and goes 'congrats, fresh meat, first assignment' and there he is. Just... vibing. On a rooftop. With like six people. Shirtless. Dancing."

"You had to spin that?"

"I had to spin that. In thirty minutes. With zero training. While hashtags were multiplying like rabbits.I said he was 'engaging with the public in authentic ways' and 'celebrating with local citizens after a mission.' I called him a 'symbol of hope.'"

"AND THAT WORKED?!"

"For about an hour. Then he went live and made it worse."

“Damn.”

There's a beat. 

"You're actually pretty cool, Latte Lad."

"Thanks. You're actually kinda cool too, random TikTok girl."

She grins. "My name is Chloe."

"Tobias."

"Nice to meet you, Tobias." She winks.

Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me standing there with my phone and my coffee order and the weight of everything I just said.

I turn to the counter.

The barista is still there. Patient. Professional.

"Sorry about that," I say.

"Don't worry about it," she says. "You're the third Ascendant-adjacent person we've had today. The one before you tried to pay with an expired currency. You're actually pretty normal by comparison."

"Was she wearing a leather jacket and no shirt?"

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

The barista sighs. "She's going to be a regular, isn't she?"

"She already is."

“Fuck." Another sigh. "What can I get you?"

I look at the list again. Solaris: "Surprise me."

"Okay," I say. "Let's see what happens."

Minutes later, I'm slouching on the couch at the cafe, waiting for my orders and hopefully getting to unwind. Until…

"Hey, son."

I look up. It's a middle-aged looking man with blonde hair, a grizzly beard, and wearing an M65 utility jacket over a hoodie. He looks like he's been through some things. The kind of things that leave marks you can't see.

"Is the whole couch taken?" he asks, gesturing at my slouching form.

"No, sir."

I sit up slightly. Not fully. Just enough to be polite. He sits down on the opposite end of the couch. There's a comfortable distance between us. The kind that says "I'm not here to bother you, just here to rest my feet."

He doesn't say anything at first. Just sits there. Staring at the window. Watching the city.

I look at my phone. No messages. No emergencies. For once.

"A hard day's work getting a cup of joe," he says, still looking out the window.

"How—"

"The eyes and body says it all."

"Something like that," I nod, half-embarrassed admitting it to a veteran.

"No need to half-ass it, boy. I've been on here long enough to see how you youngins turn out the way you all are."

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. He's right. I'm exhausted. I'm running on caffeine and anxiety and the vague hope that tomorrow won't be worse than today.

"You want to know something, kid?" he asks.

I look to him.

"When I look at you, I see a kid who's been through hell and hasn't figured out yet that he's still standing."

I blink. "Poetry."

He chuckles, low and warm. "When you’re as old as I am, you learn to read people. Their eyes. Their posture. The way they hold their coffee like it's the only thing keeping them tethered to the planet."

I look down at my cup. I am, in fact, holding it like a lifeline.

"Guilty as charged," I admit.

He nods. "Nothing wrong with that. We all need something to hold onto. The trick is knowing when to let go."

"Let go of what?"

"Whatever's weighing you down." He looks at me. "The guilt. The fear. The story they told you about who you're supposed to be."

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

He leans back. "It’s in the way your shoulders tighten. The way you glance at your phone, expecting something nuclear. The way you flinched when I sat down."

"That obvious?"

He shakes is head, tapping his temple. "Old instincts."

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say.

“Orders for Latte Lad!”

I quickly stand up to the counters, collecting the orders. But on my way out…

“Latte Lad, huh?” he chuckles. “That’s quite the name.”

“It’s just Tobias. Tobias Williams.”

He nods, extending his arm for a shake. “Well, Tobias, I’m here in case you ever want to hear an old man talking all day.”

“Thank you, Mr… uh–”

“Riker. Mason Riker.”

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