(Amy P.O.V)
"Do I have your permission to heal you?" she uttered, the phrase she'd repeated countless times before coming out tiredly. Her voice carried the same dull professionalism that had filled it for years. She couldn't remember how often she had spoken those words, let alone how many times she'd said them in a single day.
"Why the fuck are you asking, you dumb bitch? I have a chunk of my arm missing. Just fucking heal me already!" The belligerent man shouted at her, his face twisted into a snarl. It was a familiar sight, one she really shouldn't be used to dealing with, but she was.
You would think people would appreciate a superhero coming along and healing their injuries, but you would be wrong. She understood why it happened, and she even agreed with the urgency most patients felt, but Carol insisted on asking for permission every time. It was one of the perks of understanding the law and how people loved to spin a tale for fame or fortune.
Still, even if these words were designed to protect her and her family in case someone decided to be stupid, that didn't mean she was oblivious to why people hated hearing them. The pain they were going through tended to make them rather irritable. Slurs, curses, insults, and threats were things she had learned to tune out, focusing instead on the sentiment behind them.
The curses were at least better than the begging for cosmetic requests. No, she wasn't going to make your limp dick longer or make you fucking taller. She'd probably get more requests for taking away weight, but her general healing gig already handled that. Whatever, it was better to focus on the here and now.
The guy agreed to have her heal him, so the words he threw at her beforehand weren't that important. At least not important enough to stop her from doing what came next.
She reached over with her hand and felt a flood of information hit her as she made contact with his skin. Every single aspect of his body came alive in her mind as a model was built from the information her power provided.
The building blocks of the human body, listed and categorized inside her own mind. From the tiniest scars to the extensive history behind him. For example, judging by the current state of his liver, he took to the bottle more often than not, but that wasn't surprising. A six-year-old could tell you the same if they got a good look at the guy, but this did prove a point. Nothing escaped her analysis, and she knew her patients far more intimately than they even knew themselves.
Under her touch, the ravaged flesh began to shift and writhe, muscles knitting back together as pockets of fat were consumed to fuel the enhanced regeneration. To her, such feats were trivial, almost mundane. Still, as always, she felt an irrational urge to mess with the guy.
A petty, vindictive urge whispered insidious suggestions—turn a single strand of hair gray or subtract a fraction of an inch from his height. Tiny, imperceptible alterations that would grant her some satisfaction against the constant stream of ingratitude and maddening words thrown at her.
She dismissed the urge with tired ease, long since familiar with reining in her petty nature.
No one would ever know she made those changes, but she would. Once she started down that path, she'd be tempted to go further. Making small concessions over and over until she faced a living, breathing monster of her own creation.
So she couldn't afford to even wistfully think about those small petty things, even if they'd give her some satisfaction in her colorless world.
When she finished healing the man, she left without a word. She wasn't going to wait around for words of gratitude that meant nothing to her. Not that she expected to hear them in the first place. This particular patient didn't seem like the type to say those words, but it didn't matter.
She didn't heal for gratitude or for tearful family reunions but out of a sense of duty. One she hadn't even assigned herself but followed simply because Carol wanted her to.
She let out a sigh as she moved slowly to the next room to repeat the process again, her feet shuffling along the ground in more of a drag than actual walking.
She really was a terrible person. People were dying left and right, and if it weren't for Carol's demands, she'd turn a blind eye to all of it. The dying wish of a man plagued with cancer or the hopeful disposition of withering children didn't move her.
She hated that she felt that way, but even the grateful smiles from sick children didn't bring her joy. At least not anymore. Maybe at one point those emotions could stir her heart, but that was no longer the case. Just another example of how trashy she really was, a fact she'd known for far too long.
Before she could make it to the next room, her phone buzzed, and her somber mood evaporated as she pulled it out of her robes. Her heart pounded, and the colorless world surrounding her sparked again.
She could be wrong about who was contacting her, but what were the odds of that?
She didn't really have friends—as sad as that was to admit, only a couple of people had her number, and only one person actively communicated with her who was not her family. As she saw the sender, her lips twitched into a small smile as she opened the text from Vickie.
It made sense; Carol would never send messages of her own volition. She'd rather relay them through Vickie. Her father tried, but if he managed to greet her when she came home, she'd consider it a miracle, so texts from him were off the table. Her cousins were a bit more active, but Crystal was too busy with college lately, and her brother wasn't someone she got along with. Her aunt preferred to talk in person, and her uncle always seemed to be doing something. Vista was a maybe but the girl usually stuck to in person rants about Vickie's and Dean's relationship. A bonding moment between the two even if they came from it from two different directions. so Vickie texting her really was the only answer.
Her pace slowed even further, no longer feeling the need to shuffle toward the next patient. She'd rather spend her time talking with her sister. It wasn't like there was anything that really needed her attention in the hospital.
Due to her rounds, most patients didn't have to stick around for prolonged treatments. Anything truly urgent would have the pager they gave her buzzing up a storm.
The staff here couldn't compare to her in healing, for obvious reasons, but they could stabilize people well enough. In fact, that skill was probably one this particular hospital had perfected. So she could afford to take her time heading toward the next patient.
She looked over the text with a rare sense of surprise.
OMG Ames! The PRT might actually get a healer! A new kid came to sign up to the Wards today, and he's a healer! Maybe you can finally take a break. You bailed on the last double date I set up, so clearly you're too busy!
She rolled her eyes at the mention of double dates. Maybe one day Vickie would take the hint that Amy wasn't interested in the people she kept setting her up with, but that wasn't going to be today. It wasn't like she could tell her sister that the reason she hated anyone she got set up with was because she was lusting after busty blondes… well, she could probably say that, but that would lead to double dates with girls, and that wasn't really any better.
She was very Vickie-sexual, after all. Other girls didn't really scratch the itch she needed. God, she really was trash. The only person who got her rocks off was her literal fucking sister.
After that gut reaction, she processed the rest of the text. Healers were fucking rare, and having another one in the Bay who wasn't a fucking Nazi would be great. Maybe she really could relax a bit more with them around.
Since they signed up with the Wards, the PRT would likely have them doing hospital rounds with her, since it was good PR if nothing else. Hell, the newbie might actually want to go around healing, given they signed up with the Wards, suggesting some heroic leanings.
Amy knew her reasons for healing were shit, but that didn't mean others followed her pattern.
Wow, didn't know the PRT's information leaks were so bad that blonde cheerleaders could find out when new capes joined them. Piggot should really let me heal her if this is the state she leaves the PRT in.
She sent the message with a happy smile. It was a bit mocking, but Vickie knew what she was about, and it was more aimed at the PRT.
Hey, not a cheerleader! I could never sit back and cheer for people when I could be right there in the action!
Amy snorted and got ready to send another message. Vickie really was an action-first type of girl. Even before she got her powers, Vickie played basketball and dominated, drawing all eyes to her. Although, the thought of Vickie in a cheerleading outfit had her heart speeding up for a moment, but she dismissed it for now.
That thought could be used much later when she had some fucking privacy. She was not going to rub one out in the hospital washroom, she had not reached that level of degeneracy.
Before she could send another message, another one came from Vickie.
Besides, I'm not a spy. Dean was just updating me about what's going on, and the PRT wants you to know this. They asked me to fly you over. They need to test the guy's healing.
Before she even knew what she was doing, she sent a message back to Vickie, saying she was fine with it. She blinked when she read her own message but didn't regret sending it. She'd rather deal with the long-ass PRT testing cycle than heal another person here. It would also speed up the rate at which a healer could take some of the load off her schedule.
Although, if she was being honest, those weren't the reasons she replied so quickly. As soon as she read that Vickie would be flying her, she agreed. Having Vickie wrap her arms around her as they flew over the city was… well, it was pleasant for her. She'd never give up a chance to feel that.
Sadly, she didn't get to feel those arms wrapped around her too often. Vickie usually drove her to the hospital and picked her up in her car. Vickie enjoyed driving that red sports car around. Stupid fucking thing, taking away her Vickie time. One of these days, she was going to wreck it so she could fly with Vickie more often.
She explained what was happening to one of the shift managers and made her way to the roof with a brisk pace. Knowing Vickie, she'd already started flying toward the hospital before even telling Amy what was going on.
It was kind of irritating that Vickie was so sure she'd agree, but she wasn't wrong. It wasn't like Amy could deny helping the PRT with the testing. If Carol found out she rejected them, she'd be lectured for hours, even if Carol herself didn't like the PRT much. The woman would lecture her simply because it looked bad to reject them.
While that was true, the more accurate statement was that she couldn't deny Vickie. That was simply not a skill she had any hope of developing. God, she was disgusting and a fucking simp… Oh god, she was a fucking incel.
That realization had her shuddering, as she'd seen her fair share of people like that and wanted no part of that. But she couldn't deny the truth of it. The only reason she didn't ask where her hug was from Vickie was because of her reserved nature, but she certainly thought thoughts like that.
She looked over the edge of the roof with a wry look. If she threw herself off, she'd be taking care of the greatest simp this world had ever known. She'd be doing a service to humanity with such a selfish sacrifice.
She snorted and looked away from the edge, waiting for Vickie to arrive. That was enough self-deprecation for now, even if she felt her statements were particularly cutting today.
It looked like she'd picked a great time to cool it, as the familiar sound of air breaking rapidly hit her ears. She looked over her shoulder, a warm smile already dancing across her face as her gaze latched onto Vickie.
The girl in question descended from the sky like an angel called down from the heavens, a bright, joyful smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye that was intoxicating. Her hair shimmered like gold as the sunset reflected off it, her costume hugging all those delectable curves.
She looked away after a moment. She knew she was a fucking creep lusting after her sister like this, but she'd already acknowledged her simp status. As long as Vickie or, god forbid, Carol didn't find out about her less-than-PG feelings, it was fine.
She grimaced for a bit. Okay, knowing that pinprick dickhead was fucking her sister while she'd never have a chance was decidedly not fine, but she could cope. Fucking Dean, the prick thought she was another one of his fangirls thirsting to suck his cock.
Every time the dickhead tried to let her down gently, it just made her more irritated with the asshole. It wasn't like she could correct him about why she felt like a cuck every time she saw him and Vickie hanging out. So she had to silently bear her grudge against the fuckwit while he got his dick wet with her sister.
God, one of these days she needed to knock out both of them and tie Dean to the cuck chair. See how that dickhead liked that! …Okay, she was letting her irritation get to her again. Focus on Vickie now!
"Ames! You're looking as grumpy as usual," Vickie said as she floated down and slung an arm over Amy's shoulder. The mousy girl melted into the embrace, and the irritation over being cucked for years started to fade quickly.
"Can't really change that. I just have a resting bitch face," Amy said dryly, lying through her teeth, and both of them knew it. Vickie let out a sigh but let it pass.
Vickie knew something was bothering her sister, but she also thought Amy was lusting after her boyfriend. Hence the constant double dates.
Amy wasn't stupid; she could see why Vickie was so insistent on setting her up with someone, but it just wasn't going to happen. Even if she had to sit in the fucking cuck chair for years to come. As long as Vickie remained that bright spark in her colorless world, she was fine with being misunderstood.
Dean's smug, punchable face flashed through her mind for a moment. Okay, she wasn't fine with it, but she'd deal! The motto of her fucking life.
"Look, how about you take me to the Rig? I'm looking forward to getting away from all this bullshit, at least for a little while," Amy said with a wry smile.
Vickie flinched at her words, and a guilty look flashed across her face.
"Mom really needs to chill with all of this. Most of the hospitals don't even need you around to heal. It's not like the dickheads you heal are upstanding citizens. Half of them have to be gang members coming here for Cape healing," Vickie said with a frown.
Amy felt butterflies rumble in her stomach at the care her sister showed. Vickie knew how badly Carol treated her and had argued with her about it often, but Amy usually asked her to hang back.
Sure, at one point, Carol's approval and recognition had driven her, but she wasn't even sure if getting it would feel good anymore. Vickie was the only thing that brought color to her world, and even that childish dream she'd once cried over no longer looked so appealing.
So having Vickie argue with their mother about the shit treatment she received just hurt Vickie. It wasn't like the stubborn, overbearing woman was going to listen to her teenage daughter on how to treat her children. That woman was set in her ways, and no amount of talking would change that.
That was a fact Amy had long since accepted.
"She's not going to budge on it, but hopefully with this new healer, I can slack off a bit more. Carol's not going to let me take fewer hours, but with another cape on duty, I should have some time to relax in the waiting room. I might even get a fucking nap out of all this," Amy said with a wry look and a dry tone.
Again, Vickie looked even more down about this topic, but she bounced back quickly. She picked up her sister and started carrying the small healer to the Rig.
Amy felt a smile bloom as the familiar warmth of Vickie's body had her heart pounding. The smell of Vickie had Amy smiling with a dazed look in her eyes. Those blissful thoughts were ruined when she realized she was fucking smelling her sister and smiling like an idiot.
God, she was never going to beat the simp allegations. Actually, at this point, it was no longer allegations but a full-on sentence. There was so much evidence that there was no reason to even go to trial; they should lock her up and throw away the key. She was being sent to gooner jail, and she'd be forced to touch grass to save her life.
This ruined her mood slightly, but being in Vickie's arms offset that. So she was a strange mix of elated and self-deprecating on her way to the Rig.
Sadly, that balance was broken when they finally arrived. Her sister let her down gently and strolled into the base like she owned it. The troopers standing guard were stiff but let her through. Her antics were clearly rubbing them the wrong way, but the PRT was the one inviting Amy to test for them.
They couldn't afford to offend her over something so minor, but this little act didn't do Vickie any favors with the PRT in general. It wasn't like they liked her anyway, but Vickie acting like this certainly didn't help. The PRT didn't like parahumans outside their control. Well, there was Dragon, but trying to hate her was like trying to hate Amy.
Dragon and she had their names on a very short list of people you simply didn't touch. Endbringer fights would have their casualties rising even higher without her, and the amount of good Dragon did let her reach a similar status. Hell, the Endbringer warning system alone was enough to have the reclusive tinker reach a status similar to Amy's.
The chick had a strange obsession with the autistic wonder, but the woman hadn't left her room for years by this point. If Amy needed to touch grass, then Dragon needed to get laid desperately. Sadly, her chosen partner probably couldn't tell if a girl was flirting with him, even if she gave him a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Her having a crush on the bearded dumbass was just a tragedy that Amy could only mourn.
Amy followed Vickie like a lost puppy. Vickie walked these halls with a familiarity that irked her. Stupid Dean and his stupid face.
As if summoned by her irritated thoughts, Dean was sitting at a table, staring off into the distance for some reason. Miss Militia was giving the dipshit a worried look that drew some confusion from Amy.
"Hey, babe! I got Ames, and you guys should be good for whatever dumb tests they want to run on this new guy," Vickie announced as she slid into the table where Dean was sitting. She sat in front of her boyfriend for a good moment.
As Dean failed to respond, a frown flashed across Vickie's face. A frown also crossed Amy's face, as anything that messed with her sister was instantly a landmine for her.
The tension was broken when Miss Militia coughed awkwardly to draw attention to herself. That cough seemed to snap Dean out of his daze as he jolted and finally noticed his girlfriend sitting across from him.
"Shit, sorry, Vickie. Just had something on my mind," Dean placated her sister quickly. Vickie caved and gave the prick a worried look that Amy wished was directed at her. The sight irritated her even more, but there wasn't really anything she could do about that.
Stupid fucking cuck chair. She'd be freed from this torment eventually. At least she wasn't enjoying the cuck chair; if that happened, she might do the world a favor and actually throw herself off a ledge.
"There was a rather… unpleasant power interaction with the new recruit, so Gallant has been a bit out of sorts since then. Thankfully, Panacea is here now. Do you mind giving Dean a check-up? We think we know what happened, but having the world's best healer look over him never hurts," Miss Militia said quickly, drawing Amy's attention.
She frowned at the thought of touching the asshole for even a moment but let out a sigh. Vickie would never let her live it down if she refused to check on her boy toy. Dean looked over at her with an awkward smile and a flinch that told her he knew too much about her current feelings.
Again, the little bitch was probably imagining all sorts of scenarios about how she was butthurt about him not returning her feelings. Fucking narcissistic prick.
She reached over and poked his head, as it was the only exposed flesh she could access right now. She didn't bother asking for permission this time, as Miss Militia had made it clear she was asking already.
A small part of her also wanted Dean to fucking cross the line and use this lack of permission to sue them. Sure, their family name would be ruined, and they'd lose cash, but that would fucking break up Vickie and Dean. A small price to pay to get the dickhead to stop fucking her sister. You don't sue your girl's family and expect to keep banging her. Amy knew it was never going to happen, but it was at least an option.
As the information started to flash through her mind, she got a bit more interested in what was going on. His hormones were all over the place, but that wasn't the most interesting thing. Apparently, the fucker had pissed himself.
That information flipped the frown on her face as she gave the dickhead a smug grin. The fucker was scared shitless over something, and the only reason he hadn't defecated himself as well was because he had nothing in him.
"Well, he was scared enough to piss himself, but other than that, he's fine. His chemistry isn't altered in any way that would imply a master effect, and the rest of him is healthy. Can't do jack shit about his mental trauma, but he should be good," Amy said shamelessly, snitching on the guy, hoping the piss-boy act would disgust Vickie at least a little.
She looked over at her sister after a moment, and while Vickie was frowning, the vibe Amy got from her was more concern than disgust. So Amy was back to sulking as she lamented Dean's existence once more.
At least the prick looked embarrassed about pissing himself. Miss Militia was just looking awkwardly at the boy, who wasn't looking at anyone else.
"So what's going on? Did the new recruit freak out and hit Dean with their powers? Do you need me to break a leg or two, babe? I don't want you to be bullied on my watch," Vickie said with a frown, clearly a bit miffed about this new Ward.
Amy, on the other hand, was thinking about making another fucking friend. Anyone who could ruin Dean's day was a gem in her book. Maybe she could sic this Ward on Dean and have the dickhead die of a heart attack. Or maybe just have the prick shit himself in public.
Vickie might care for Dean, but Amy was certain that if rumors about Dean shitting himself in public spread, she'd dump him. Vickie was caring, but she was also a bit shallow. She'd eventually give in to the rumors after a while.
Hell, Amy could take care of Dean herself. Just make a small virus that would make him violently shit himself after a certain time span. Amy dismissed that idea with a frown. She'd love to do it, but she'd be crossing a line, so it had to be shelved… even if she really wanted to see the dickhead humiliated.
"No! It's nothing like that, Vickie. It's just a power mishap. The new Ward stores emotional energy to use his abilities, and you know how I see emotions," Dean explained awkwardly, uncomfortable but not willing to throw Vickie at an innocent guy.
Vickie seemed to understand but was frowning with a worried glint in her eyes. Amy let out a sigh that had Dean flinching and Vickie fading from her worry for a moment as she shot an exasperated look at her sister.
Amy gave her a flat look in return. Every time this misunderstanding came up, it became more tempting to make Dean die in a horrible, unrelated accident. No, Your Honor, I have no idea how an orc was spawned into existence and found itself raping the poor boy; it must have been one of Nilbog's monsters.
"There really was no one to blame for what happened. So try to be a bit more understanding, Glory Girl. I know this is a bit sudden, Panacea, but could we get you over to the testing area? The new Ward should be finished with the basic testing soon," Miss Militia said, trying to break the odd mood brewing.
She nodded, interested in meeting this new Ward, and gestured for Miss Militia to lead the way. As they were leaving, she shot a look at Vickie, expecting her to follow, but the girl seemed adamant about sticking around with the prick and caring for him.
That caused a spike of dark hate to boil in her as she glared at the dickhead, but he wasn't looking at her, so he didn't flinch this time. She left the room in a bad mood, thoughts of vengeance brewing in her head, even if she knew she'd never act on them. It was just cathartic to plot instead of letting everything fester in her chest.
She was led to the testing room and gave a flat look to the various test subjects they'd be working with. At least there was another person who'd have to deal with all this nonsense.
She could remember the day she was forced to go through mind-numbing test after mind-numbing test before the PRT let her heal people. God, she wished they'd never approved her healing, but she knew it was a foregone conclusion, as the world really needed a healer, and she was the best.
It still fucking sucked having everyone look at her like some sort of miracle but spit on her when she couldn't heal them. A small, guilty spark hummed in her chest as she could treat literally anything but held back on brains because of her stupid rules.
She let out a sigh and was broken out of her thoughts as the new recruit came over for testing. He didn't really look that impressive. He clearly didn't have a costume ready, as he was only wearing a mask, though it was better than the cheap masks the PRT provided for new triggers and criminals.
She'd give the guy some credit for being blonde, at least. His hair also looked fluffy, so she was reminded of a puppy when looking at him. As she talked and interacted with him, he seemed interesting enough. She was planning on being friends with him, if only to irritate Dean, but their personalities seemed to mesh well.
Hell, he even took her enjoyment of his suffering pretty well. Most people would be put out when she poked fun at them, as she could be a bit bitchy at times, but he seemed to roll with the punches.
When they finished the testing and he offered to heal her, she was a bit surprised but accepted after a moment. She knew she wasn't exactly the healthiest person around, and she couldn't use her miracle power to fix that, sadly. So the offer to heal her was actually good, if a bit amusing. The dude also gave a jab at her by using her famous line.
For the first time, those words had her lips twitching in a positive way.
As she accepted his hand and healing, she knew generally what to expect, but as the warm current of sheer feelings started to saturate her, she was still surprised. It was nothing intense, but it was like a soft, warm fire in the middle of an endless winter. A mother's hug and the hum of contentment that uplifted anyone who heard it.
She kind of got lost in it for a moment, even if it couldn't compare to the fireworks that Vickie was to her, but she could get used to this. It was a color she needed, after all.
She left the room with the lingering warmth filling her chest, bringing out a light smile on her face. As she caught sight of Vickie, the happy mood continued, only to be slammed with feelings far too familiar to her.
Awe, fascination, adoration, and love hit her with such violent intensity that she felt disoriented for a moment. She'd never really thought about it since her world was dull and colorless without these things. She'd compared her feelings for Vickie to fireworks, but from her current position, they were more like artillery fire aimed specifically at her.
It was violent, fierce, and utterly alien.
And that fucking worried her.
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Just more character building