[AMY IN DISPATCH (2025)] CHAPTER SIXTEEN

About a month later, they had a house.

The search itself had been an ordeal of paperwork, inspections, compliance verifications, zoning clarifications, and one particularly tense discussion with a municipal official about whether a “bio-secure basement workspace” qualified as a laboratory under city code or could plausibly be categorized as a hobby room for a young woman to practice and experiment in. Amy had ultimately won that argument, though not without providing a detailed and slightly alarming explanation of what she personally considered a hobby.

Now, late afternoon sunlight spilled across hardwood floors free of scuff marks, scratches, and other blemishes.

Boxes were everywhere. Some had been neatly stacked and labeled in Mandy’s tidy, professional handwriting, and others bore Amy’s looping scrawl: ‘Important???’, ‘Snacks (CRITICAL)’, ‘Do Not Open Unless Bleeding’.

Hunter stood in the middle of the living room with her hands resting on her hips, slowly turning in place as she took everything in. 

“…We own this,” she said.

Amy dropped onto the couch without checking if it was fully unwrapped, leading to a loud, plastic thud as she landed her entire body onto it. “It is technically a rental.”

Hunter gave her a look that conveyed both exasperation and reluctant fondness. “Amy.”

“FINE.” She groaned, stretching over the wrapped coach as if she were a cat on two legs, “It is ours.”

Hunter’s eyes softened, and the warmth in her expression was something that had not existed there a month ago. Amy noticed the change, even if she did not comment on it, and privately acknowledged that Hunter was right in a way that mattered more than any terminology.

The house was theirs in every way that counted.

It was larger than any of them had expected to secure without months of delay, with two full floors, a kitchen that offered more counter space than Amy had ever been trusted with before, and a fenced backyard that opened onto a small stretch of trees that muffled the city’s noise just enough to make them feel apart from everything. 

Downstairs, at the end of a short hallway, the basement door stood open.

The room beyond had been reinforced behind smooth paneling, the ventilation upgraded to handle more than ordinary domestic use, drains installed with careful forethought, and shelving units lining one wall in anticipation of equipment that had yet to arrive. 

It did not look much like a laboratory, or even a hobby room in any conventional sense, but it was a work-in-progress. And what was available looked amazing. 

At that moment, Mandy stepped in through the front door, setting down the last box she’d carried in.

“That’s the final one,” she said, brushing her hands off. “Utilities are active, security system is synced to both of your devices, and the perimeter alert will notify the heroes of any breach.”

Amy gave her a lazy thumbs-up from the couch. “You’re the best, BB!”

Hunter nodded once, more formal. “Thank you.”

Mandy’s gaze swept the living room, at the boxes, half-assembled coffee table, and Amy already horizontal like she had been living there all her life.

“You have enough food for a week?” she asked.

“Yes, mom,” Amy replied.

Mandy gave her the look, causing the brunette to flinch.

“Sorry. Reflex.”

Hunter walked Mandy toward the door as Amy dramatically melted further into the cushions.

“I can’t believe you actually let this happen,” Hunter said quietly.

Mandy shrugged. “You both needed space.”

There was no accusation in it, but still, Hunter hesitated. “You’re still… coming by for training? Like we talked about, right?”

“Twice a week before formally inducting you into SDN, so you don’t have to learn how your powers work on the job…” Mandy trailed off, as if reliving a bad memory. “And if anything happens, you call me before you try to handle it yourselves.”

“That feels targeted!” Amy whined from her spot on the coach.

“It is,” Mandy replied without raising her voice. “I like to think us being roommates for almost half a year allows me to be a decent judge of your character.” 

Hunter’s lips twitched.

For a second, none of them moved. Then, Mandy shook her head. “You’ll be fine. You are something resembling adults, after all.”

Oddly enough, despite only knowing her for a single month, Hunter believed her.

Amy suddenly sat up. “Wait.”

Both of them looked at her as she walked over and stopped in front of Mandy.

“For real,” Amy said. “Thank you. For… the past few months and… for not treating me like I was a burden.”

Mandy’s expression softened. “You weren’t.”

Amy held her gaze for a beat, like she didn't really believe her, and then stepped forward to hug her. It was still just as tight and earnest as her previous ones.

Mandy didn’t stiffen as usual, but instead automatically relaxed into it.

“You were never temporary,” Mandy said quietly.

“I know.”

Hunter looked away, giving them the illusion of privacy.

When they separated, Amy’s eyes were suspiciously bright, but she was smiling.

“You can still come over,” she said quickly. “We have a yard now so we can just chillout there. Or in here, if you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Mandy replied with a chuckle.

Hunter stepped forward next, carefully reaching out with a hand.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

Mandy rested a hand briefly on the back of her hoodie while using the other to shake Hunter’s outstretched one. “You’re allowed to build something new here, no matter how long it’ll actually last.”

Hunter nodded, if shyly.

Mandy stepped back, opening the door.

“I expect this place to still be standing when I visit next week,” she said.

“No promises,” Amy replied immediately.

“Amy.”

“Kidding! Mostly!”

Mandy shook her head, smiling despite herself, and stepped out onto the porch. For a moment, she stood at the bottom of the steps, looking back at them framed in the doorway. She lifted a hand in a small wave.

They waved back.

Then she turned and walked toward her car.

Inside, the door clicked shut, and the house felt different immediately.

Hunter exhaled slowly. “So.”

Amy looked around at the mountain of boxes.

“…So,” she agreed.

They stood there for a full ten seconds, then Amy flopped back onto the couch. “I think we’ve done enough moving for today.”

Hunter stared at her. “We opened zero boxes.”

“Exactly. A job well done by both of us.”

Hunter crossed her arms. “We should at least unpack essentials.”

Amy waved vaguely toward the kitchen. “We have food, plumbing, Wi-Fi, and manga. What more do we need?”

Hunter looked toward the stack labeled “BEDROOM – URGENT.”

Amy followed her gaze.

“…Fine,” she conceded. “Half.”

“Half?”

“We unpack half today like emotionally responsible adults, and the rest tomorrow.”

Hunter snorted at that. “You sure as hell don’t act like an adult.”

“Legally ambiguous,” Amy corrected.

Hunter huffed a laugh.

“Half,” she agreed.

Amy beamed, then immediately lay back down. “You start.”

Hunter stared at her.

Amy cracked one eye open, unashamed. “I’ll supervise.”

Hunter grabbed the nearest box and shoved it toward her. “You supervise by opening.”

Amy groaned dramatically but pushed herself upright.