The Weight of a Name

Alex Thorne sat at his desk, early sunlight streaking through the slats of his office blinds. He swirled the coffee in his mug thoughtfully. It wasn't just any mug—it was a recently summoned item, a strange little artifact that brewed coffee with a different flavor every morning and evening. This morning, it was hazelnut with a hint of cinnamon. Not bad for an interdimensional barista. His mug of reheated coffee trembled slightly in his hand as he reviewed the previous day's mission logs. Fixer's gas leak intervention had drawn international attention, and Magician's hospital visit was trending across every social feed.

His heroes weren't just saving lives—they were changing how people viewed heroism.

A soft knock came at the door. It was Agent Yurei, holding a black folder.

"More mission requests?" Alex asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

She nodded. "You're officially the most requested operative in the government dispatch division."

He chuckled dryly. "Not bad for someone who got fired last week."

Yurei stepped in. "Public support is high. Politicians are rallying behind the Dispatch Program. But there's pressure now. Bigger rescues. Bigger dangers. They want you to test your limits."

Alex nodded solemnly. "I'm ready."

---

Elsewhere, in a shadowy underground chamber, Harlan Mave watched grainy footage of Alex on loop. A thin, high-tech shock collar clung tightly to his neck, a reminder of who was in control. The Boss stood nearby, arms folded.

"He summons them like soldiers," Harlan murmured. "They listen. They act. No fear."

"Which makes him useful," the Boss replied. "But dangerous, too."

"You still want to observe?"

"For now. His power strains him. All we need is the right moment."

Harlan frowned. He remembered the containment cell, the cold experiments. Part of him envied Alex. Another part feared him.

---

Later that afternoon, Alex was called to the Training Wing. A new space had been constructed—more tech, more room, and reinforced walls designed to withstand hero-tier combat.

"We want you to try something," Yurei said. "Summon outside your usual profile. Not just combat or rescue. Think abstract."

Alex stared at the test field, then at the pedestal in front of him. He closed his eyes.

Images flashed in his mind. He thought of peace, of stillness, of hope. A flicker of light bloomed.

When it cleared, standing before him was a small, fluffy white bunny with soft blue markings along its fur. It blinked up at Alex with serene, glassy eyes and gave a single, gentle hop.

"A... bunny?" Alex murmured, confused.

The air shifted. A soothing aura spread across the room—gentle warmth, the easing of tension, and a wave of peace. Around the bunny's neck was a small silver collar with a nameplate engraved in flowing script: "Bliss."—gentle warmth, the easing of tension, and a wave of peace. A nearby assistant, who had a mild burn on her hand from earlier training, gasped as it vanished.

"That's no ordinary bunny," Yurei said, kneeling to observe. She reached into her coat and pulled out a specialized assessment visor—thin, sleek, and glowing at the rims. She slipped it over her eyes and adjusted the lens.

"Incredible," she murmured, her gaze tracking the swirling gold aura surrounding Bliss. "It's like he's a walking tranquility zone.". "He's radiating a passive healing field. Five meters in every direction. Emotional calm too."

Alex knelt. The bunny leaned into his hand, purring softly.

"Bliss," Alex named him quietly. "You're a support-class all right."

Yurei chuckled. "He might be what keeps you alive long-term. And probably your office pet too."

She stood and tapped her comm. "Perfect. Just the perfect one for the job."

Moments later, Bliss was assigned to a special frontline unit, where soldiers were engaged in brutal standoffs against evolved beasts. Reports soon emerged that Bliss's aura stabilized the wounded, calmed panicked troops, and even prevented several breakdowns in active combat zones. Within days, Bliss became an unofficial mascot of the army, with soldiers pinning mini bunny patches to their uniforms.

Private hero companies were livid. One executive slammed a report onto the table during a crisis meeting.

"They sent a bunny, and now they're winning over the military? If this keeps up, we'll lose all our contracts—all of them."

An assistant in the room hesitantly raised her voice. "But… why are we so afraid of one guy? He can only summon one hero at a time. There are still dozens of crises every day—he can't cover them all."

The company leader turned to her, eyes sharp. "It's not about one person. It's about control. For years, the government depended on us. They relied on our heroes, our discoveries. Today they put their faith in him."

He leaned forward, voice low.

"Tomorrow? He might be strong enough they don't need any of us."

The Dispatch Program had changed the game—and everyone knew it.

---

News spread quickly. Dispatch was now capable of deploying a full spectrum of roles—offense, mobility, utility, support. The public dubbed it "The Hero Arsenal."

Meanwhile, private companies began ramping up propaganda campaigns. One CEO addressed his team.

"We underestimated him. This 'Dispatcher' could make us obsolete. Find a weakness. Create one if you have to."

Surveillance from the Boss's network captured it all.

"Let the rats fight," the Boss said. "We'll clean up what's left."

---

That night, Alex returned to his apartment. Exhausted but fulfilled. He sat by the window, city lights dancing across the skyline. On the television, a young girl smiled into the camera, holding a small drawing of Magician.

"She made me laugh when I was scared. She's my favorite."

Alex's voice was quiet but certain:

He felt fulfilled.

As he stood to close the window, his eyes drifted to Bliss, now curled up in a soft nest of files and blankets on his desk. She twitched in her sleep, vulnerable despite her powers.

"You need something to keep you safe too," Alex murmured.

He closed his eyes and focused. A swirl of energy responded. From that glow, a delicate silver necklace emerged, adorned with a small blue crystal.

He gently fastened it around Bliss's neck.

Immediately, the air shimmered around her. A translucent bubble flickered into place, fed by subtle streams of ambient air pressure.

A readout on his monitor blinked: Air Shield Active – Energy Source: Wind, Heat, Kinetic Energy.

Alternative energy from her surroundings—passive but efficient.

Alex smiled.

"Now you're really mission-ready."

The summoning took more out of him than expected. His vision blurred for a second, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

He slumped into his chair, clutching his forehead.

Bliss twitched, opened her eyes, and hopped closer. The soft hum of her aura expanded, wrapping gently around Alex. The pressure in his head eased, the light-headedness fading like a passing cloud.

He exhaled, steadying. "Thanks, Bliss."

Just then, a sudden loud clang echoed outside his office. Bliss's ears perked, and the air shimmered. The shield snapped to life with a soft whoosh, forming a protective dome around her.

Alex blinked. "It only activates when you're in danger... so it stays in standby most of the time. Smart."

Moments later, the noise passed. The shield softened and returned to a subtle ripple.

He turned toward the window, where the moon hung like a silver guardian over the city. He gently stroked Bliss's head.

"You're full of surprises, little one."

But as he turned back to his chair, he paused.

Bliss was still there.

Most of his summoned heroes disappeared back into their portals after their missions. But Bliss… she stayed.

Alex stared, puzzled. "You're not leaving?"

Bliss yawned, then hopped lazily in a circle before flopping back down.

He scratched his head. "So you're not just a summon. You're… sticking around?"

There was no answer, of course, just the faint hum of the air shield around her.

Alex blinked. "Huh. Guess we're roommates now."