[AMY IN DISPATCH (2025)] CHAPTER NINE

A month was a long time in this line of work.

Mandy thought about that as she signed the last form, handed it off, and waited for the familiar, uncomfortable sensation of her bones and muscles reverting to their actual size. The transformation process that gifted her powers took with it her alter ego, Blonde Blazer, and the weight of responsibility loosened just enough for her shoulders to drop.

Chase was… better. He wasn't fixed—nothing about what had happened to him fit cleanly into a box labeled fixed—but he was better than the hollowed-out, brittle thing he’d been the day Amy confirmed the truth. 

Time, not speed. A power that bent duration instead of burning it. A gift misnamed so thoroughly they had overlooked potential corrections and allowed it to continue for years.

Mandy had taken the failure personally.

She hadn’t meant to, but watching him relearn the inner workings of his powers had stirred something stubborn and protective in her chest. He’d lost years to a misunderstanding, lost confidence, and lost chances to actually help people instead of grinding himself into dust trying to keep up with an image that was never accurate to begin with.

Still… there was light there now, hope too. The kind that came from understanding yourself again.

He’ll find his way back, she thought as she unlocked her front door. He deserves to.

The door opened.

Mandy stopped dead.

Amy Dallon was sprawled on her stomach across the living room couch, legs kicking lazily into the air, and a half-crumpled bag of chips balanced on her lower back like she had forgotten it was there. But contrary to expectation, a hand dipped back blindly every few seconds, retrieving a chip with moderate accuracy, while the other pointed vaguely at the television.

On-screen, a boy with round glasses was arguing with a redheaded kid about something involving stairs and magic.

“Oh my god,” Amy said around a mouthful of chips, not even looking away. “THIS version gets it. They made Harry Potter a show here. A show! You get, like, time to breathe between important plot points!”

Mandy continued staring.

Amy finally noticed her arrival after a few more moments, craning her head to look over her shoulder. “Oh! Hey! You’re back already.”

“…Why,” Mandy said slowly, carefully, like she was talking to a rabid animal, “are you on my couch?”

Amy grinned and gave a little wave with a chip. “Because your couch is comfy and your TV is bigger than the one in the guest room.”

“And why,” Mandy continued, “are you watching television when your GED medical equivalency exam is tomorrow.”

Amy paused, just for a second, then she shrugged and popped another chip into her mouth. “Studying breaks are important?”

Mandy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Amy.”

“I know, I know,” Amy said quickly, rolling onto her side to face her, the chip bag sliding but somehow not falling off. Was there another aspect of her power Amy wasn't telling her? “But I do know my stuff, I promise. My mom made very sure of that.”

“That’s not comforting,” Mandy replied flatly.

“It should be!” Amy protested. “Carol was terrifying about it. Anatomy, pathology, cellular differentiation, and even parahuman clinical cases: ‘Amy, what happens if the patient’s altered biology no longer follows baseline human assumptions?’—that kind of thing.”

Mandy crossed her arms. “Including non-humans?”

Amy blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely.”

Mandy raised an eyebrow.

Amy sat up a little straighter. “I mean, not aliens-alien, but… superpowers get weird given how they work back in my world. I’ve healed people with biology that didn’t technically qualify as human anymore. You know, extra organs, rewritten systems, and even hybrid structures. Once you stop thinking in terms of ‘normal’ and start thinking in terms of ‘function,’ it’s all just problem-solving.”

She smiled, smaller this time, but confident.

“I’ll pass. First try!” Amy added. 

Mandy studied her for a long moment. Then she said, “Bet.”

Amy’s eyes lit up. “Oh? What kind?”

“If you pass on the first attempt,” Mandy said, extending a hand, “I grant you full access to my credit card.”

Amy didn’t hesitate to take the handshake, holding her firmly and enthusiastically. “And if I don’t?”

Mandy smirked. “You don’t get to watch any TV for a month while you are my personal assistant until your next GED test. Without pay.”

Amy gasped, scandalized. “Cruel! Unusual! Possibly illegal!”

“Shake on it,” Mandy said.

They did, albeit slightly reluctantly on Amy’s side.

Still, after they were done, she flopped back onto the couch with a satisfied hum. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“I highly doubt that. I’m rarely wrong about these kinds of things.”

. . . . .

‘…Boy, was I wrong about this.’

Mandy lowered her phone just enough to look over it, sunlight catching on the screen as it reflected the front of the testing center behind Amy. The place was aggressively normal with its simple brick walls, a banner that read ‘CONGRATULATIONS GRADUATES’, and folding tables stacked with pamphlets no one ever read. The kind of building you forgot about five minutes after leaving.

And yet…

There stood one Amy Dallon in front of it appearing like she’d just walked out of something monumental.

She wasn’t in costume; instead, she wore jeans, new sneakers, and a soft sweater that still smelled faintly like the detergent Mandy just brought yesterday. She also held a thin manila folder to her chest with both hands like it might float away if she let go.

Inside it was an official certification to practice medicine in this world.

Mandy raised the phone again. “Okay, don’t move. The lighting’s good right now.”

Amy squinted even though the sun faced away from her. The drama queen. “I am not moving.”

“Don’t squint.”

“I can’t help it! It’s somehow attacking my eyes!”

“Panacea, the cure-all, defeated by the sun,” Mandy deadpanned.

Amy laughed, bright and unguarded, the sound carrying across the courtyard. She shifted anyway, angling herself so the light hit her just right, her smile a little crooked but all too real.

Mandy snapped the picture, then another, and another. Each time she did so, she felt it, that quiet, creeping fondness she’d been trying not to name for weeks now. It wasn't simple admiration nor even awe. It was something gentler. Warmer. 

“You did it,” Mandy said, lowering the phone. The words came out softer than she intended.

Amy blinked. “Yeah.” Then, quieter: “I really did.”

She looked down at the folder again, like she was making sure it was still there.

Mandy exhaled through her nose. “You passed with flying colors, by the way. I checked. Privileges of being one of SDN’s top superheroes.”

Amy’s shoulders relaxed for the first time all morning. “I told you I would.”

“I know,” Mandy said. “That’s the problem. I bet against you anyway.”

Amy grinned. “So… credit card now?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Worth a try.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the noise of other test-takers and families blurring into the background. Mandy watched Amy take it all in, the building, the banner, and the fact that this world had just… accepted her despite casually being one of the strongest and dangerous heroes just by existing.

Finally, Amy looked up. “Hey. Can we take one together?”

Mandy paused, then she smiled, already stepping closer. “Yeah. Yeah, we can.”

She switched the camera, held it out at arm’s length. Amy leaned in immediately, shoulder pressing lightly into Mandy’s side, and arms coming up to hold herself steady.

The shutter clicked.

Frozen in the frame were two women who had just grown a bit closer in that moment, both smiling like they knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful and undoubtedly heroic.