[AMY IN DISPATCH (2025)] CHAPTER ELEVEN

It took an admittedly long time, but Prism eventually came to the well-informed conclusion that the medical department at the SDN had officially lost its collective mind.

She had seen plenty of strange trends over the years. She had walked through villain hideouts decorated like underwater aquariums, watched heroes market themselves with the enthusiasm of breakfast cereal mascots, and discovered entire online subcultures built around hating her choice of sunglasses. 

But this shit? This was entirely new.

The medical wing looked less like a professional facility and more like a fan convention that had somehow tangled up with a biotech startup and decided to stay that way. 

Cheap-ass plushies of various sizes sat on countertops, stickers covered clipboards and filing cabinets, and someone in admin had even set up a photo board proudly labeled SLIME SQUAD. Prism counted at least three separate pages filled with pictures of heroes posing cheerfully with their assigned healing slimes, several of the admittedly adorable creatures wearing miniature accessories, including scarves, glowbands, and even a tiny handmade paper crown.

It was all deeply embarrassing, made even more so by the fact that Prism had walked into the building with her own officially assigned, on-the-clock, healing slime perched comfortably on her shoulder. Hers matched her signature color scheme, though it possessed the secondary ability to shift hues in response to her emotional state and the surrounding lighting. 

As if sensing her attention on it, the little creature—nicknamed Pops, for no obvious reasons—leaned forward and gave a hopeful wiggle.

“No,” Prism muttered under her breath, adjusting her visor so she could look directly into its absurdly large yet disturbingly cute eyes. “We are not taking any more pictures today.”

The slime wiggled again, this time in a way that felt distinctly skeptical. It clearly did not believe her in the slightest. The adorable little bitch.

She forced herself to ignore it for the moment, because there were more important things to deal with before she could properly indulge her new… partner? She still had not decided whether the thing counted as a pet, a medical tool, or some deeply confusing combination of the two, so in the meantime, partner it was.

Prism checked in at the front desk, exchanged a few brief words with a nurse who was wearing a slime-shaped pin, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at how far this entire theme had apparently spread. She had just finished signing the necessary forms when her attention drifted toward one of the open treatment rooms.

A young woman in an obviously heroic costume stood beside a bed, sleeves rolled up and hair tied neatly back, calmly observing as a slime worked to repair a compound fracture. The expression on her face was one of pride and immense satisfaction.

Prism froze.

“…Hold the fuck up.”

Amy turned at the sound of her voice, smiling with easy warmth as if she had expected to see Prism there all along. “Oh! Hey, Prism!”

The bright pink slime beside her snapped into a tiny, enthusiastic salute, its heart-shaped pupils somehow managing to look even more cute and disturbing than the others she had seen.

Prism simply stared.

Then she stared harder, as though sheer force of will might turn reality into something that made sense. Surely her eyes had to be deceiving her. 

“You are the new superhero who made all these healing slimes,” she said slowly. “That Panacea?”

Saying it out loud made the answer feel embarrassingly obvious in hindsight. Still, she could not be entirely blamed for failing to connect the dots earlier. Knowing that someone could heal people was one thing. Knowing that the same person was a biokinetic powerful enough to casually create independent biological organisms capable of doing the same was something else entirely.

Amy blinked. “Uh, yes?”

“That is not—” Prism dragged a hand down her face. “That’s not what I meant. Last time I saw you, you were basically an intern doing emergency healing in break rooms.”

Amy shrugged. “I leveled up?”

Prism let out a loud, incredulous laugh before she could stop herself.

Dr. Moreno happened to pass by at that exact moment, a coffee cup in hand and an expression far too relaxed for a man overseeing this level of chaos, organized though it was. “She has been officially licensed for over a week now,” he said cheerfully. “And before you ask, yes, she has already rewritten several of our operating protocols.”

Prism slowly turned back to Amy, the disbelief that had been in her voice now firmly settled across her face.

“You are telling me that you went from intern to certified medical professional and registered hero in a single week.”

“Well,” Amy said, rubbing the back of her neck, “I already had the power and the motivation. I just needed the paperwork.”

Prism snorted despite herself and shook her head. “Jesus.” Then she paused, frowning slightly. “Wait a second. Licensed how, exactly?”

“Oh,” Amy said brightly, “I passed my GED medical equivalency a couple of days ago.”

Prism started to grin, and then the full meaning of those words sank in.

“…You what.”

Amy exchanged a mildly confused glance with Dr. Moreno. “Passed?”

“No,” Prism said slowly, holding up a hand. “Back up. You passed your GED medical equivalency?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

Amy offered another small shrug.

“And wait,” Prism continued, narrowing her eyes, “did you actually celebrate it?”

Amy hesitated. “…I watched TV and passed out from eating too much ice cream?”

Prism made a sound of genuine, personal offense.

“That is unacceptable,” she declared flatly.

Amy laughed nervously. “I had shifts to cover, and slimes to make, and—”

Prism reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could spiral into further explanations.

“You got a life-changing certification in a brand-new world,” Prism said firmly, making it clear that she was not about to be argued with, “and you did not think to celebrate it properly?”

Amy opened her mouth to protest.

“No,” Prism interrupted. “I am taking you out.”

Amy blinked. “…Out?”

“For drinks after work,” Prism clarified. “Don’t worry, I know a place.”

“I am not old enough to legally drink,” Amy said quickly.

Prism smirked. “Then it is a very good thing that I know another place that makes mocktails strong enough to give you an identity crisis. I am also bringing a friend. He is loud, he is fun, and he will absolutely make you regret not celebrating sooner.”

Amy glanced down at the pink slime.

It wiggled encouragingly.

“…Okay,” Amy said at last, smiling shyly. “That actually sounds really nice.”

Prism finally released her wrist, satisfaction bringing a smirk to her face.

“Good,” she said, sliding her visor back into place. “Because heroes who save lives deserve to be celebrated, and they deserve it often.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her slime shifting through an odd blend of yellow, orange, and brown, clearly reacting to her mood.

Prism allowed herself a small smile.

Yeah, she liked this kid, and anyone with a problem with that could feel free to deal with it.