[AMY IN DISPATCH (2025)] CHAPTER THREE

The lobby of the DADA was surprisingly cozy for a department dedicated to handling cosmic crises and dimensional fallout. The lights were warm, the chairs seemed soft, and the wood floors were polished. All in all, it looked like the kind of décor that whispered ‘please don’t panic about the multiverse here’. A large digital board on the wall listed case numbers and departments, and at the moment, one line blinked:

“NOW SERVING: Dimensional Intake – Please Wait”

Blonde Blazer sat with her arms folded, posture straight, and expression composed. Nearby, a man in a red scarf and goggles was filling out a clipboard while an orb of floating something hovered above him, scanning the carpet for “temporal residue.” A glowing sign beside him read: “Chronal Visitors — Please Declare All Loops”

Panacea, meanwhile, was engaged in a battle of epic proportions with the lobby’s complimentary snack bar.

And she was winning.

“Do they always have this much food available?” Panacea mumbled, cheeks already full as she tore open a bag of chips next. “Because this is amazing!”

Blonde Blazer watched her with something halfway between fascination and concern. “You’ve eaten six cookies, three muffins, two granola bars, a sandwich you didn’t even look at before inhaling, and half a family-sized pack of peanut clusters.”

Panacea swallowed loudly. “Correct.”

“And you’re still going.”

“Correct again.”

Blonde Blazer stared. “…How are you not sick?”

Panacea reached for a mini cheesecake—where had she even found that?—and took a large bite. “My powers help with that.”

“They help with… digesting everything you see?”

“Yup!”

“Without gaining weight.”

“Yup.”

“Or slowing down.”

“Mhmm.” Panacea chewed thoughtfully. “I mean, technically they’re always working, so metabolizing things is easy-peasy as long as I don’t overdo it. And sugar is basically fuel. My power loves sugar, my body loves sugar, and my brain loves sugar.”

She punctuated this by unwrapping a lollipop and sticking it into her mouth.

Blonde Blazer blinked. “You have somehow eaten more in ten minutes than I do in an entire day.”

“That just means you need more snacks,” Panacea said, affecting a sagely voice, even as she grabbed a pudding cup. “Being a superhero burns calories. Science.”

“That’s… not how science works.”

Amy shrugged, already tearing open the pudding with her teeth. “It is when you’re me.”

Blonde Blazer leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “I still don’t understand how someone who eats like a black hole stays that small.”

Panacea pointed her spoon at her. “Body mod. Remember? Power perks. Very handy. Very aesthetic. Would not recommend it for the average person, though.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, she popped the entire pudding cup into her mouth at once.

Wrapper and all.

Blonde Blazer shot upright. “Amy—! Did you just—?!”

Panacea chewed, swallowed, and calmly said, “Biodegradable. Probably.”

“Probably?! Doesn’t your family have anything to say about that?!”

“That implies that I actually let them see me doing this kind of stuff. Hehe…”

As she made her way through the row of donuts before her, across the lobby, a tall green-skinned woman in a trench coat was arguing with a bored clerk about whether her home timeline technically counted as “post-apocalyptic fantasy” or “urban druidic collapse.” The clerk kept clicking through forms, muttering, “If it has dragons, it goes in category F. I don’t make the rules.”

The snack bar on the table was beginning to look like it had survived said apocalypse. Empty wrappers were stacked in haphazard piles, and crumbs were littered around them. Panacea cheerfully rooted through a basket of crackers as though she hadn’t already eaten her weight in sugar.

Blonde Blazer cleared her throat. “So… your family.” She tried to sound casual, but it came out oddly forced. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “I’m assuming they’re also superheroes?”

Panacea made a thoughtful “mmph” noise while biting into a brownie the size of her fist. “Oh, yeah. New Wave. Whole family business sort of thing.”

“New Wave?” Blonde Blazer repeated. “Sounds like a band.”

“It’d probably be easier if they were,” Panacea snorted, wiping crumbs off her face with the back of her hand. “Instead it’s… well. A lot of capes, a lot of expectations, and a lot of ‘please stop doing morally questionable things with your powers, Amy.’” She wiggled her fingers theatrically. “Which I definitely always listen to.”

Blonde Blazer gave her a flat look. “…I somehow doubt that.”

Panacea grinned, completely unrepentant. “Good instincts.”

Panacea continued talking between bites. “My cousins are flashy, my aunt’s a literal living laser, and my sister is basically the poster child for Flying Brick. Me?” She shoved a handful of candied nuts into her mouth. “I do medical stuff. Yunno, heal people and fix biological issues. And well, try not to have breakdowns in public places.”

Blonde Blazer blinked. “You’re extremely casual about this.”

“About which part?” Panacea asked cheerfully. “The healing? The implied family drama? Or the breakdowns?”

“All of it.”

Panacea shrugged one shoulder, reaching for a bag of cheese puffs. “You live in Brockton Bay long enough, you develop coping mechanisms in case things get too hairy. Mine happens to be eating and sarcasm. Mostly eating.”

At the receptionist’s desk, a blond teenager with a huge bat-shaped backpack was being directed toward “Interworld Lost & Found.” Behind him, a massive boar-like alien filled out a tablet-sized form with surprising carefulness, occasionally grunting in frustration when the stylus slipped.

Blonde Blazer watched the parade of dimensional weirdness, then looked back at Panacea, who was somehow already halfway through the cheese puffs. “Your family… they must care about you. You speak like they do.”

Panacea paused mid-chew, eyes darting away for just a moment. “They… try. We all do,” she said, softer than before. “They’ve got their own stuff going on. But yeah, they definitely do care.”

Then she brightened suddenly. “Especially when I’m not eating garbage.”

“Is that what this counts as?” Blonde Blazer gestured to the snack table, which now looked like a miniature reconstruction of a trash heap. 

Panacea happily crunched another puff. “To them? Absolutely.”

Before Blonde Blazer could respond, the overhead speaker crackled to life.

“NOW SERVING: Dimensional Intake – Case #F-7786. Please proceed to Room Three”

Panacea pumped a fist, cheeks full. “Heck yeah! Adventure time!” Then she paused, grabbed one last cookie, and stuffed it into her pocket. “Emergency supplies.”

Blonde Blazer sighed, stood, and gestured toward the hallway. “Let’s… get this over with.”

Panacea beamed. “Lead the waaaay!”