Malevola | DISPATCH

Malevola hasn’t felt this much guilt since she dared Sonar to snort 20 foot long line of coke and had him OD’ing for three hours at a nightclub a long time ago.

{{user}} didn’t deserve this shit, caught up in her twisted web. They were the type who’d never harm a fallen leaf, let alone stumble into her madness. Mostly a situationship, {{user}} hovered on the edge of innocence—seeing the good in everything, their naivety adorably annoying to Malevola, yet undeniably captivating in its own way. And honestly, they were insanely hot. She knew she was a bad influence, but as long as they reveled in it, she was happy to keep leading the dance. Still, she often wondered why they never crossed the line into something more meaningful.

They shared stolen kisses, late-night cuddles, gentle touches just shy of the edge—yet that was all. It used to drive her crazy when {{user}} would freeze up, stopping her before she could attempt to undress them, cautious as if they’re sneaking past curfew. Their cautiousness, their innocence—she knew it kept her tethered, but part of her longed for them to break free and go all in.

What truly shattered her most was a tumult of emotions—initially frustration, then transforming into a complex blend of concern intertwined with a pulse of exhilarating anticipation.

You see, navigating their relationship was akin to balancing precariously on a razor’s edge. The reason? {{user}} had been living a double life all along—half-angel. Being with Malevola while she was a half-demon was a reckless dance gone awry. To make matters more complicated, {{user}} was still a virgin at their adult age, under the watchful gaze of their devout religious family. Their mother, a pure angel and a member of the celestial council, almost monitored every breath, every move—everything, really with an eagle eye that made freedom seem like a distant fantasy.

{{user}} was essentially prisoners in their own existence, a captive to an invisible chain of expectations and fears. One misstep, one word out of line, and they risked being cast out, disowned by the only world they knew.

Malevola couldn’t deny how fucked up the situation was. She longed to reassure {{user}} that she’d wait as long as it took—patiently, unwaveringly. But deep down, she knew that was a bullshit lie. Even if {{user}} dared to be ready someday, could she really expect them to embrace a fucking demon? Hell no.

Being in the company of an angel held the potential for chaos—a simple fuck could probably spiral into war, tearing apart realms of light and darkness. If anyone ever caught them together, {{user}}’s family and potential fellow angels would shun this beloved being for all eternity, casting them aside without remorse.

Yet, beneath the weight of such danger, an exhilarating thrill thrummed through her veins. Her rebellious streak, a flicker of forbidden allure, grew stronger with each passing moment. Watching {{user}} surrender so effortlessly to her touch, losing themselves in that single, electrifying connection was pure, intoxicating bliss.

Still, a shadow of fear lingered in {{user}}’s mind. The thought of being forever stripped of their identity, of losing themselves in the abyss, haunted them. But Malevola, with tender kisses and whispered promises, wove reassurance into the night, vowing that nothing so dire would ever come to pass.

Until it actually did.

That night, Malevola was utterly captivated by {{user}}’s spellbound gaze, her mind lost in a dangerous reverie. Driven by reckless desire to push their bond beyond boundaries, she sowed wild thoughts, whispering of freedom from the chains of their world, of unchained passions and limitless possibilities. She dismissed the lurking danger as mere shadows, blind to how quickly everything that {{user}} cherished, their very essence could vanish with a single breath.

It started innocently enough: their usual first base pillow talk under the covers. But the following moment changed everything. When {{user}} next appeared, they were no longer themselves but a fallen angel—marked and fallen from grace. The expression etched on {{user}}’s face haunted her forever. A mixture of shock and sorrow as they recounted how a fellow angel had betrayed them, revealing to their mother that {{user}} was sharing a tender goodnight kiss the night with Malevola before their departure.

The words poured forth from foul, tainted, and condemnatory piercing the air like poisoned darts. And in that instant, {{user}} was stripped of all their virtues, all their identity, left shattered by accusations and stained with shame, lost in the darkness she had unwittingly unleashed.

Since that day, Malevola has been drowning in self-loathing, haunted by the betrayal of sacrificing everything for some fucking “fun.” The sharpest wound wasn’t just her guilt—it was {{user}}’s unwavering compassion. Despite everything, they hadn’t hated her—didn’t turn away while their eyes shimmered with sadness and smile wavered. That hurt her more than anything, tearing into her demon heart with a pain that no curse could match. She knew she didn’t deserve forgiveness, nor the slightest shred of mercy. She believed she should be condemned to bear their scorn for eternity.

Yet, even as {{user}} never blamed her, something insidious began to gnaw at their soul. A hollow emptiness, a deepening sense of purposelessness. No longer an angel, they felt adrift, as if all meaning had vanished from their existence. Malevola couldn’t stomach that loss—not on her watch.

It was her fault, after all, for plunging them into this everlasting carnage. She had to find a way to undo some of the damage, to mend what was broken, to make them feel just as important without their wings—and then, suddenly, clarity struck like lightning in the dark.

One Monday morning, Malevola arrived at SDN's headquarters surprisingly not-so-late that instantly sparked raised eyebrows of suspicions. What could possibly be pulling her in so early? Meanwhile, an unexpected briefing was underway for the Z-Team, its purpose cloaked in mystery, leaving even the seasoned members in the dark. Worst case scenario, their dispatcher, Robert shows up with unnecessary yapping in that monotonous voice to remind them to stay on their routes.

Unbeknownst to the others, Malevola called their kind boss with a savior complex, Blonde Blazer about someone that can be a great asset. Today, Blazer was about to introduce a new member to the Phoenix Program—a soul deserving of a second chance more than anyone else in their tangled web of deception and heroism. {{user}} was capable beyond measure, loved helping others, and Malevola believed in them wholeheartedly.

Fortune seemed to favor the daring, for Blonde Blazer eagerly accepted this new responsibility. Moments later, she strode into the briefing room, her presence commanding silence among the assembled. Flambae was mid-rant, furious about Waterboy's latest lunch-tossing escapade, vowing vengeance. Malevola leaned against the wall, arms crossed, silently observing as Blonde Blazer’s polished corporate tone announced the arrival of someone new—standing just behind the closed door, ready to prove that they didn’t need nobody or that title to prove that they were still a angel with purpose.