I swallowed hard as I watched Angela’s eyes widen, the blue in them sharpening like glass under a sudden flame. I’d expected shock. Maybe confusion. although in hindsight I could probably expected this as well, Take the most virtuous healer known to mankind in media and bring her in a Grimdark Universe where hope is almost nonexistence and every parahuman is suffering from existential crisis, asking yourself if there’s anything redeemable in this world that would make you look forward to alive..is not a good thing.

  . Not the way her expression folded inward, I know where her stance lies. She is a doctor first, human second, and something pained and furious tying both together when she heard what I have to say. I aint no doctor, trying to fix someone ain't my speciality,

  But for a doctor who has to see their patients die day by day because there’s truly nothing they can do, and that same doctor can relate to empathy, to keep smiling and keep fighting on to save lives? I dont think I’ll ever understand how a doctor thinks or feel, It’s just a poor simulacrum to what a Doctor can do: Indomitable will and the willingness to keep doing good. Selfless to a fault and keep striving for the betterment of their patients and Humanity. That's what the Hippocratic oath, in essenc,e isn’t it?

  Whatever I said about Amy Dallon has gotten her rile up.

  “I know it sounds bad, but I hope you won't judge based on yours or our world's sensibilities,” I said, hands raised a little, defensive even though she hadn’t spoken yet. The horror, anger and disgust in her eyes show everything I need to know. “But… that’s the world we’re in. That’s Amy. That’s what she lived through.”

  She stared at me as if the very idea physically hurt.

  And honestly? It should be if I weren’t already here for the past two to three weeks, give or take. Got enough of the Earth Bet treatment to have gone numb in some ways, not directly, but just the thought of everything worrying about all of it.

  “And..before you ask how I know about all of this, I have information about things in the future, a possible timeline from a Precog called wildbow and how things will proceed if no changes are enacted, eventually, the world will end in a few years, and there’s nothing we can do.” I added, shrugging like it was nothing, though inside I knew I’d just dropped another bomb.

  Angela blinked. Slowly. Like the name was a puzzle that hurt her brain. “A precog…yes, you mentioned such an ability among the humans living here.” I clarified. “One of those rare ones. Knows things about…the future of this world, I guess. People. Futures. Stuff not even most Thinkers in this world can conceptualise.”

  Her mouth tightened. She looked away from me, toward the wide window that overlooked the Command Centre’s main concourse.SCV’s moving neosteel ever so diligently, and the Veterans in borrowed fatigues chatted around getting comfortable, some of them even doing some sort of stretching exercises.. Monica’s drones floated past on errands. Everything humming, productive, stable while I’m having the so called “shove” talk with Angela here about how to approach Amy Dallon. Amy friggin Dallon future Red Queen of Earth Shin…and off with yer head in Wonderland.

  Fuck…

  The thought of Amy a traumatised teen forced to be a human miracle machine, cut straight through that stability like a scalpel in this era seems to retain some sort of innocence still, before she turned into “that” is telling how much psychological warfare she’s been through in that toxic home of hers.

  Wildbow really know how to stir a character up in their setting.

  “I don’t understand,” Angela murmured finally, voice low but razor-edged. “This girl. This… child. They let her heal anyone without oversight? Without psychological support? Without the most basic ethical safeguards? W-what about her medical education? They put that level of responsibility on her shoulders and expected her to carry it alone?”

  Her voice cracked on the last word. A tiny fracture. But unmistakable.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “The doctors mean well I think, but the lack of personnel and not to mention how easy her powers are to create a miracle heal moment, and the lackness in any real scrutiny for Powered Capes, some things are loosen here in this world”

  She pressed her fingers against her temple, pacing a slow line across the polished floor. “In Overwatch, we spent decades debating the morality of medical enhancement, of nanotechnological intervention, of long-term patient autonomy. We’ve done field tests, meetings with ethics committees and even discussed legislation. I suppose such a thing is too hard to enact in a world where a city might collapse from big giant monsters but still... But this..this is exploitation. This is- Avaa..What’s the word..”

  “Child abuse? Underage Exploitation? Take your pick…I’ve thought about it as well. Dont think I haven’t thought of it, if it were up to me, i’d pull her over and simply take her out of the equation but I’m just a third party, a stranger..let alone I’m no doctor here.” I offered.

  Her breath stuttered. “More than that. It is the betrayal of every vow a healer should uphold. You don’t give a young girl godlike power and then isolate her with it. That is how you break someone, the responsibility and guilt alone…”

  I nodded. “She’s already broken. Or close to it.”

  Angela stopped walking. Her voice went quiet, dangerously quiet. “And what has been done to help her?”

  “…Nothing good,” I admitted. “Her relationship with her sister is a mess. Her mom idolises the wrong kid. The city relies on her like she’s a public utility. The Protectorate… I think they want her stable, but they’re not equipped for the kind of psychological strain she’s under. No one really is not even a great psychologist like Dr Yamada..”

  Angela’s jaw clenched.

  I could practically see her resolve crystallising. mercy and fury fused into purpose.

  “She needs intervention,” Angela said, more to herself than to me. “She needs medical boundaries. She needs rest. Therapy. Someone who understands her power enough to guide her through its ethics without exploiting her.”

  “And that’s why I thought of you,” I agree she needs an intervention, It’s also one of the reason I brought you into this world first, It is to fix the core issue of any battle long term strategically which means backline and logistics. I said quietly.

  She turned to me, startled. “Ah..I can see the nature of such an arrangement, Sojourn and Sam said the same thing, I was 14 when I first joined Overwatch alongside Torbjorn. Initially,I had some reservation towards Overwatch militaristic approach, as my parents had been victims of the Omnic Crisis war, but that all changed”

  I nodded since I knew her backstory somewhat, some details not so much, I did know she was a genius, Even at the age of 14, she already thought about healing through Nanotechnology and done extensive research and development under the Overwatch Umbrella project, following her parents ideals and heroism.

  “You’re a doctor who believes in the responsibility of healing,” I continued. “You’ve literally built your life around the idea that saving people doesn’t mean losing yourself. Amy needs someone like that. Someone who understands what it’s like to carry too much power, too much expectation.”

  Angela looked down at her hands as she thought deeply about the things she experienced when she was younger and didnt want another child to suffer the same fate, her hands clenched tightly…deliberately, she curled them into fists seeking the conviction needed to solidify the things she needed to do here.

  “I want to meet her,” she said. “Not as Mercy. As Dr. Angela Ziegler.”

  “Of course.”

  “And Jason?”

  “Yeah?”

  Her eyes lifted to mine, bright, fierce, and full of a fire Earth Bet didn’t deserve but desperately needed “No one,” she said, “should have to heal alone, not even me but there’s something I dont understand, Jason.”

  “Keep asking, we have time”, I said.

  “I understand from the perspective of a doctor who has to answer towards the higher-ups, but why hasn’t the medical board intervened?” she demanded. “Why hasn’t anyone stepped in? This is… unconscionable.”

  “The Medical Board can’t intervene,” I said. “They don’t have jurisdiction over capes the way you’re imagining. Think of it like… a government trying to regulate a walking nuclear reactor. They don’t get a say. The PRT does. And the PRT only lets healers operate under very specific restrictions. They aren't Overwatch. Some aspects of the rules here are a little loose due to … organisational dealings, they are hampered by third-party organization let’s leave it at that for a moment especially when there’s powers involved.”

  Angela’s brows knit, golden hair shifting slightly as she folded her arms. Displeased didn’t even begin to cover it.

  “And Amy is currently a Ward in status” I continued. “Which means everything she did or didn’t do will be under PRT supervision. Every decision she made medically was filtered through bureaucracy, legal liability, cape politics, PR, and most of all? Fear. I told you about her powers, but thats because she’s limiting herself to healing, Her real powers is biological tinkering, able to alter all biological structure into anything imaginable, the last time someone had a similar power like that, they massacred entire cities and released a plague that wiped out entire towns.”

  I leaned back against the console, staring at the ceiling for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

  “Look, the PRT is terrified of owiokw like her. Power like that… It’s too versatile, too unpredictable. They worry she could take over people’s minds without meaning to. Another issue with their fear of Strangers and Master protocol, they are afraid of powers that could rewrite people's memories, thoughts..or simply whatever that made them-”them”. Or accidentally create something worse than an Endbringer. People like her fall into certain boxes they like to keep in Control or pressured.”

  I didn’t add that, in many ways, Amy had been less a Ward and more a prisoner with privileges.

  Angela didn’t need the whole darkness right away.

  “And the worst part?” I said quietly. “The trauma she went through wasn’t taken seriously in the near future. Not by the Board, not by the PRT, not by her family. They needed her power too badly. They needed a miracle factory. Everything else, her mental health, her boundaries, her age came second.”

  I went on. She deserved to know the stakes.

  “It’s not that people don’t care,” I said. “Some do. But the system? The system is built to use capes. Especially the ones that seem useful. And Amy… she’s the most potent biological specialist on the planet.I think people simply take a blind eye on her situation since the greater good and the bigger picture is at stake..”

  I let that sit in the air between us. Monica, standing quietly beside me, didn’t even interrupt for a quip. That was rare enough to be a sign on its own. Angela finally spoke, voice soft but laced with anger.

  “And they call themselves protectors?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Welcome to Earth Bet, and it’s…part of the reason why I didn’t want to involve any parahuman in my operations as well, The people here…aren’t exactly thinking right with a power tumor telling them to seek conflict of all things. Technology hasn’t progress naturally since the shards interfered, Creativity and Ingenuity in the human will is stunted when all technology or tinkertech came from alien origin and not real data and science. The powers they have is a crutch, it’s not natural.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  “Well,” she said, shoulders straightening, “ I’ll help her. And I’ll help anyone else like her. If this world refuses to protect its healers and their parahumans, then I’ll teach them how. I didn’t come from my universe just to watch another person to suffer and be broken down. We will find a way to minimize the damage and impulse these Shards is able to nudge people in certain way.”

  Something warm settled in my chest gratitude, maybe. Relief I suppose since I have more people to rely on to keep surviving in this world.

  “I have something of a prototype the scientist made from the UED science department, we have an inhibitor a spi dampner to reduce the frequency of these shards but so far it’s not as powerful to completely block the signal,” I said. “Perhaps you can have a look at it later, see if there’s anything we can add to strengthen the emitters and dampners. Monica has done several experimental testing to block Precogs. ”

  Angela nodded, determination crystallizing in her eyes.

  To be honest, I was afraid she would lose part of her that made her a Hero, and I silently hoped the city was ready for an angel who refused to look away from suffering… or from the systems that created it. I needed someone like that, someone who can look at the establishment and directly pinpoint the exact issue and perhaps even fix it.

  It’s a first step anyway toward a better future. Fix the logistical issue and backend of an Endbringer fight, and that means… revolutionise and generalise tech healing.

  Healing for everyone- So I would allow everyone to be heroes, and to never die. The first step to stop massive loss in an Endbringer fight. I exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of my nose as Angela stared at me. I'd like to think we have an understanding.

  I’d seen that look before from other doctors. It was the look of someone who had spent their entire life trying to save people, only to learn the system itself had tied a noose around another healer’s neck. But her? She still hasn’t given up. There’s fire in the eyes.

  “ I will need to rebuild my equipment “ she said.

  I nodded, still leaning against the console as Angela outlined calmly, methodically, with that practised bedside cadence of a woman who has spent years explaining complex medical procedures to stubborn patients, her plan to turn the standard-issue Medic CMC into something approximating a Valkyrie suit. She learned fast and is able to work on the medical console. In came a rought blueprint just written ideas and a base armor schematics that resemble the valkyrie armor she updated from a holopad. Huh…didnt think she know how to use that.

  “What do you think? Wingless at the moment, but for now that’s optional” all that made using the holopad in her room? I didnt think she worked fast.

  No flight systems, she said, not yet. But the Cadaceus Reactor embedded in the CMC could serve as the power source for a staff built around the same healing principles she used back home, Its a good alternative from the bulky power armor look.

  Hearing her talk like that, already adapting, already rebuilding herself into something useful and steady in a world she hadn’t even lived one full day in, just shows me how much of a genius she is, us ordinary folk aren’t build that way. Even with implanted memories from the best minds in the Terran Dominion, I dont have the synapse and drive to think outside the box that way.

  True geniuses are built differently.

  Damn…Am I admitting myself that I’m just dumb?

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my thumb against the edge of the table. “You have my authorisation. Do it. Whatever you need, Monica will supply. Just give her the schematics.”

  Angela smiled softly, that tired doctor’s smile that manages to look both exhausted and kind at the same time. The kind you give someone when you’ve already decided you’ll save them, one way or the other. And then my stomach growled. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Echoing through the quiet of the Command Centre like a damn battle klaxon.

  Angela blinked showed a rare mischievous smile while Monica decided to just chime it at this very moment “ You should eat commander”

  I sighed. “Okay sure…right. Before any batshit ideas I left ruminating in my head starts materialising, no point worrying too much about the general state of Earth Bet, be it power-armour engineering or talking about a teenage girl's issues, I need food. You need food. Breakfast exists, and I would like to not pass out again.”

  Again with that odd mischievous smile, Angela, “You’re very honest, just like my friend Genji” I scoffed at that, ah, right. Didn’t she ended up with Genji or something? Or was that just fanfic talking? I can never tell when it comes to romance. I happen to like using Genji and spamming “ I need healing” hehe…

  I gestured toward the corridor, motioning for her to follow.

  As we walked out of the medbay, the lights dimmed behind us, sealing off the room full of humming Xel’naga-Terran machinery. Angela kept looking around—at the clean, angular Terran steelwork; at the polished floors that hissed faintly under her slippers; at the drone platforms that tracked her movements with soft, obedient servos.

  She looked lost, impressed, and a little overwhelmed.

  I knew the feeling.

  “This place is… surreal,” she murmured.

  “Welcome to the Command Centre, Does Overwatch HQ look better? Or does Terran Command knows best!” I said. “Come on, breakfast is down this way. Kitchen’s automated, so don’t worry! no one here knows how to cook except Jinho, and he’ll turn your meal into bread if you’re not careful...Boy still have some issues with controlling his powers”

  She gave a small laugh, her first real one since waking up.”I would love to meet your colleagues if there’s any”

  Good. I needed that and a plate of Mala Noodles in the morning. Spicy food? Breakfast? Wait, why are you not scared of a Tummy ache! Said every Chinese ancestor from my mother side- Fuck that shit..I ate bird's-eye chilli as snacks during my childhood; spicy food is my thing, dad would say…hmm, weak. You need more chili to grow hair on your chest.

  I rolled my eye thinking about all those days eating chili for breakfast at home, a tad bit of nostalgia hits back only to find out that…this chili is fake, made from Terran technology, the base is made from grass from around the Trainyard. Same trainyard that smells like piss in the morning. Will Angela roll in disgust when she finally leaves the Command Centre?

  Hehe…looking forward to watch that and…

  Sigh…remind myself to get proper chili’s at the Asian Market later. Fake grass chili just aint cutting it. It’s not spicy at all.

  A loud foot stomping towards us, I watched as Angela widen her eyes in shock when Trainwreck shuffles into the mess hall like a starved gorilla in power armour. He’s still brushing crumbs of something off his chestplat,e something he probably found, tasted, and decided counted as “food.” The man has an iron stomach and zero shame when it comes to foo,d especially when it’s offered freely 24/7

  He spots us and lights up.“Morning! Is that breakfast?”He says it like everything in the room might be breakfast if he tries hard enough, seen him ordered tofu cakes in the middle of 2 am because he’s hungry for a midnight snack. I wondered if he gotten any sleep tinkering away with that Pile Driver.

  Angela’s expression flickers with confusion at first then concern when he spotted the damage that was done to his body, a little cautious mixed in with curiosity as she noticed that he’s mostly made from metal, reminiscent of someone when I heard her muttered “He’s just like Genji” before she smooths it over with that almost unnaturally kind bedside warmth she seems to exude by default.

  The contrast between them is so stark that for a second, I feel like I’ve introduced a top-tier Swiss physician to a cryptid armoured tank in human form.

  I clear my throat. “Angela, that’s Trainwreck. Colleague. Good guy. Extremely enthusiastic eater.”

  Trainwreck plops down beside me, the bench groaning in protest. “New Person huh?”

  Angela Ziegler. The doctor. Nice to meet you Mr Trainwreck” she said courteously.

  “New food today?” he asks, leaning over my bowl like a dragon inspecting treasure. I nudge him away before he decides to sample my breakfast.

  “We’ll? get your own bowl on your own and sit.” I said. Angela studies him openly now, and I can practically feel her brain running diagnostic subroutines.

  Her gaze lingers on the metal ridges fused to his skin, the unnatural proportions of his frame, the scars of a body reshaped without consent. And she doesn’t recoil when she analyses the composition of his body.

  Compassionately, clinically, but without any pity. “You’re… ah,” she murmurs, searching for words. I help her out.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “He’s a Case Fifty-Three,” I say quietly. “He didn’t ask to look like this, I’ts one of those things when powers are given with side effects” I said.

  Trainwreck just shrugs, unfazed. “Better than being dead. And I get to eat weird foreign food.”

  Angela’s expression softens again that subtle sorrow of a doctor who’s seen too much pain, too many patients failed by every effort she made to safe them in the past. “Still,” she says gently, “that must be difficult.”

  He tips his head. “Sometimes. But Jason lets me test big guns.” That comment took her to a tizzy, “E-excuse me? guns?”I cough.

  She gives me a look that very clearly says What weapon testing? What big guns?We will talk about that later. I just shrug it off “Relax, it’s nothing. I just gave him a grenade launcher to test out the lethal potency of our firearms. The non-lethal stuff is within production”

  But then she turns back to Trainwreck and unexpectedly smiles warmly again like she’s talking to one of her patients. Well, at this rate, Trainwreck might as well be patient zero for a real test bed to cure a Case 53, A real one. “Well. If you’d ever like me to take a closer look at your condition, I’d be honoured. There may be things I can do. Improvements. Relief.”

  Trainwreck freezes, then brightens like someone turned on his internal headlights. “You can fix me?” genuinely curious of course.

  Angela lifts a cautious hand. “I can try.” If anyone else said that, I wouldn't believe them, but if it’s her? She might have some Ideas we can work on.

  He nods with reverent seriousness, then immediately ruins it by saying, “After breakfast, though. Breakfast first.” and started chomping on Noodles lke it’s cereal..ugh.

  Good man, got his prioritist right for once, just no respect for the noodles at all. Trainwreck happily demolished his fourth bowl of Terran oat-protein mush, besides a bowl of noodles. What are Terran oat-protein? It’s, something between steel-cut oatmeal and whatever passed for space grain back in the Koprulu sector. He loved it.

  Angela kept watching him with that soft, clinical curiosity of hers. A medic’s instinct. I want to say it's some sort of motherly instinct as well, but she’s never married anyone nor does she have any children, at least not to my knowledge, and I think the mother of the Overwatch team would be shared among her and Anna, and Sojourn, too, perhaps if she ain't too busy acting as overseer for Overwatch.

  For a doctor who hadn’t yet processed how weird Brockton Bay really was, she’s taking this whole thing a lot better than a proper isekai person such as I.

  Trainwreck finally noticed her staring and paused mid-bite, blinking his single visible eye.

  “Uh…did I do something wrong lady?” he asked, shoulders hunching just a little.

  “No,” Angela said, gentle, reassuring. “You’re… fascinating. Jason said you’re a Case Fifty-Three? What exactly does that mean? Elaborate it to me” She turned to me, brows lightly knit, waiting for the explanation she’d been promised.

  I sighed, setting my coffee down. “Right. Case 53s.”

  I met her eyes, trying to gauge how much to frontload. “They’re parahumans who wake up with no memories, physical alterations, and a brand burned somewhere on their body. A tattoo that reads ‘Omega. Or a C for…things I can’t disclose yet, in due time I will.’ Usually, they’re found naked in random alleys, or forests, or just… placed somewhere. They never remember who they used to be. Never remember how they got their powers.”

  Angela froze. Her knuckles tightened around her mug. “You’re telling me people are created like this? Engineered?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “By shards. Or rather by the entities that run them. Think of Case 53s as… rejected experiments. Or side products. Most of them come out warped. Wrong. They’re powerful, but they suffer. Some go insane. A lot don’t make it.”

  Trainwreck gave a small shrug, like he was used to being objectified. “It’s not all bad..I dont think I’m insane, maybe just a little slow in the head,” he muttered. “I mean… I get to be a walking tank now.”

  Angela’s face crumpled with a kind of horror I’d only ever seen when someone died on her operating table. “This is monstrous,” she whispered. “Human experimentation. Forced biological alteration. And the government does nothing?”

  “PRT’s hands are tied,” I said. “They can’t fix what they don’t understand. They try to offer housing, therapy, containment if necessary. But the root cause? That’s way above them. And the Medical Board… they don’t even acknowledge parahuman biology in most formal standards. Liability reasons. And Parahuman healers are rare, so rare infact one can count them by hand at the wider population of the world, and none of them have a method to cure them…not yet alteast, and nothing I got from the Precog ever mentioned a cure ever made even after the world ended.”

  Angela’s eyes flashed with anger righteous, doctor-on-a-mission anger. “So these people are simply left to fend for themselves? To suffer? To exist half-broken because bureaucracy refuses to evolve? Unglaublich how despicable.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “Pretty much.”

  She put her hands together slowly, as if in prayer, and exhaled. “This world has so many problems, Even I dont know where to begin,”

  “I just shake my head, finish up breakfast and we can go” I said.

  With any indication of her sigh, I think today is gonna be a long long day…

  —-

  Angela gagged so hard I thought she might clinically diagnose the air itself. “It smells like urine,” she muttered, pinching her nose with delicate surgeon precision, as if the gesture alone might sterilize the city.

  “hehehe..Mercy gagged haha!” I said. “Most of it came from the water up on lower east since we’re quite near the boat graveyard from here, and over there…I think it’s the Merchants territory.”

  Monica snorted. Actual snort. “Commander, It smells like industrial decay and mammalian waste, Commander. I suggest we evacuate these…Vermin that called themselves the Archer’s Bridge Merchant soon.”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t put that on the tab soon, I was hoping with their addled-headed brain full of cocaine crap and all manner of drugs made over there, they would come find us and do something stupid. Seems like Skidmark got a tiny brain after all up there. ”

  “Commander, our ride fresh out of the factory is here” Monica said as her eyes light up with neon lighting and the Orion Turbo up the cracked road, its engine humming like a lazy lion.

  powerful, for a Terran made sportscar, I think this machine is gonna be insulted by the terrain it had to deal with soon, lots of potholes here. Good thing this car is made using anti gravity technology. No wheels.

  . The windows were down because Monica insisted the cabin filters were “not calibrated to Terran-standard particulate distribution yet.” Which meant we were breathing Brockton Bay’s natural atmosphere..

  I tried not to laugh. Failed.

  “Jason,” she said slowly, “medical technology hundred of years ahead of this world’s era, and This is the peak of automotive technology? I mean…the design is..”

  “Too military? You mean Ugly?” she just sheepishly tries to avoid my gaze as I frowned.Never said Terran ingenuity means Terran asthethics gotta be nice, The UED is full on Utilitarian to its core, even in design. From mech to everyday vehicles. Rule of cool does not apply here. No sir ree.nope. What to girls know about cool? Bahhh…maybe Squeler will appreciate this.

  The ride was smoothand comforting atleast. I drove normally like I would with any ordinary car except I dont exactly drive it myself. Autodriving car.

  Anyone else would find this amazing, not these two. We have a girl who came around 40 years from now and a UED AI from 300 years from now. I cant wait to show off this thing to Jinho or something, perhaps even Armmaster and the rest of the wards.

  We crested the small hill leading down toward Brockton Bay General Hospital. The building rose out of the smog like a tired giant, all gray concrete and peeling paint, windows that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since Leviathan paid his last visit.

  Angela’s expression softened the moment she saw it, some instinctive, automatic professional compassion or just the instinct of a doctor, her eye brighten up seeing a hospital. A healer seeing a place that desperately needed one maybe? I dont see the fascination towards hospitals.

  I slowed the Orion Turbo by the front entrance, letting the engine rumble to a stop. Angela stared out at the hospital, her fingers tightening subtly on her lap. She was nervous not scared I think, Angela Ziegler wasn’t the type to be scared of things just maybe uncertain. Wondering if she still knew how to be who she’d always been.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  She took a breath. “If this world truly suffers as much as you say… then I can’t stay idle.”

  Monica hopped out first, landing lightly with her new body, adjusting the coat I made her wear so she didn’t look like a walking military asset. “Environmental readings stable,” she announced. “Pathogen load consistent with pre-Terran healthcare norms.”

  “Translation,” I said as Angela climbed out, “if you touch anything, wash your hands twice please.”

  “I am a doctor, Jason,I understood that.” Angela said flatly.

  “Geez..just making sure alright? Unlike you, I dont exactly feel comfortable visiting hospitals like a normal dude” I stepped out after them, the morning breeze hitting me with a fresh wave of Eau de City Sewer.

  I didn’t even make it three steps inside the lobby before the smell hit me—thick, sour, and so sharp it almost felt weaponized. Angela gagged behind her mask, one hand instinctively tightening on her coat. Monica just froze beside me, running a dozen silent diagnostics as if the air itself must have been chemically compromised. “This place can surprise you…holy..crap, what is that smell?”

  Angela pulled her hair back behind her ear. “So..I am not the only one smelling that.” Monica face remained static but I know she had a proper nose, so she could smell it. That little squirm on her lips shows “ I may not travel much, Commander, but does this city smell like the base as well? Why haven’t you decided to move away?” she said but I…

  Yeah…I got no answer for that. I think once things settled here I’d just move to New York or something, another equally piss smelling City, in a diffrent kind of way. Or Boston…

  Yeah boston sound great.

  But no. It was just Whirlygig’s ass and the rest of the Merchants parahumans here. What are they doing here?

  The trio stood in the middle of the lobby demanding something as the local crowd cowered in fear. Squealer twitching and scratching her arm, Skidmark pacing like he expected to be treated like the King of England, and Whirlygig bent at an angle so unnatural it looked like she was trying to fold herself out of existence. She clutched her backside with both hands, whining at a pitch that could shatter glass.

  They were screaming at some poor nurse who’d clearly had enough for one lifetime.

  “If someone doesn’t yank this bullet out, I swear to god! ahhh!-” Whirlygig howled, “I’ll burn this whole place down! It HURTS!”

  That last bit came out in a strangled squeal that echoed through the lobby. That explained the smell too burnt ozone mixed with something worse. Much worse. Something that made even Angela flinch like she’d just been slapped by the air itself.

  I muttered under my breath, “Fantastic. First impression of Brockton Bay culture to the great Dr Ziegler, and I can't even do it right with Whirlygig’s roasted buttcheek…siao-ah pukgai my luck, did I offended someone in my past life? Oh wait I did…”

  Angela shot me a wide-eyed look, half-horror and half-disbelief. “This… this can’t be normal.”

  “Oh no,” I said, “this is your typical everyday for me, I’ve been here two weeks and I’ve seen dumbasses tried to rob a mall, get squashed within 2 gang fights versus two idiotic pigeon head morons trying to lift a mech and failing, then having to deal with some chinese mob that can’t even bring enough firepower and lose to that same mech, which is only a mech that specialize in building stuff...not to mention getting headshotted by a teenage girl on the street, hey..that’s my life.”

  Angela was just left dumbfounded stuttering, “I…oh my, such a colourful week..wait, it’s only been two weeks for you? Zeit für einen neuen Plan, Jason…There’s something really wrong, or there’s something you’re not telling me. You build a fortress in two weeks?!”

  I sighed and said, “ I might have offended a goddess in my past life, that's why I get sent here…”

  “You whaa?”

  Skidmark spun the moment he noticed us, swaggering toward me with the same confidence someone might have while stepping on a rake. “Yo! You three Cunts, what are you staring for you fucks!! You’re all capes, right?You look like a bunch of healers! Heal my men or something! She took a bullet in the..uh…well you can see where fucking hell, where is you butt whirl?! I can’t see nothin on all this trash and shit!”

  I sighed because I really dont wanna deal with all this.

  “Skidmark,” I said, “you’re in a hospital. You could’ve just… waited in line like a normal injured criminal…no that came out wrong” I facepalmed myself..why is this happening to me.

  “I’m DYING!” Whirlygig shrieked again. “IT FEELS LIKE A METAL DEMON IS CHEWING MY-”

  “Yes. We all get it.” I rubbed my temples. “Your butt hurts.”

  Monica whispered to me, deadpan as always, “Jason, I have detected eleven different toxicity markers in the air around him. Should I sterilise them with a flamethrower?”

  “No, How do you have a flamethrower? You know what? nevermind..I dont wanna know.” I whispered back. “Angela’s a doctor. Let’s just… get through this without you using war crimes method shall we?”

  Angela stepped forward, trying to maintain her professional calm, though her expression suggested she would rather face an Endbringer unarmed.

  She leaned toward me. “Jason,” she murmured, “is… is this typical parahuman behaviour?”

  I just shake my head, “I dont know” I really dont know, its easier to blame it on shard behavior.. Whirlygig groaned, clutching her butt like it was trying to escape her body, a gunshot wound through her butt as she was yelling and yelling. Squeler had enough and just smacked her in the face.

  “Shut the hell up, you cunt! I can’t hear myself thinking! Skid! Do something~!” she lashed at her boyfriend. This only enrages Skidmark at the poor nurse as he grab her arm and the Nurse yelped in Pain “Ah! L-let go me!”

  “This is because I’m black, hunh? That’s what you’re all about, yeah? Im getting no service because you lot think you’re better than us? FUck you, fuck this city-”

  and then he turned to me I could see him clearly now. Skidmark wore a mask that covered the top half of his face. The lower half was dark skinned, with badly chapped lips and teeth that looked more like he haven’t brushed his teeth since 1997.

  Fuck dental hygiene I guess.

  “And you..youre.that Dreamhack wondercunt aren’t you?, heard you around the docks trying to do shit in our teritory with those roving mechs. Think we're scared of you? “

  Like I said..this is gonna be a long, long day.

  “Puckered juicy fucktards! All of you!!” Skidmark snarled, stomping off towards us..specifically towards me for some reason.

  Sigh…

  FML- this is going to be a long ass day for me because every time I go out, shit happens.

  “Monica, defensive protocol. Subdue and suppress. Go”

  —-------------------

  Amy Dallon POV-

  I hate mornings like this.

  Cold air, grey sky, and a text message from the hospital telling me there’s an emergency and they need me right now Fucking no context whatsoever, just that familiar weight settling in my chest as I threw on clothes and trudged toward Brockton Bay General. Vicky sent me there by flying, The only thing worth mentioning this morning before the slog after…

  The city feels even dirtier frin tgesky, like all the grime people ignore in the daytime crawls onto the streets at night to remind you it’s still here.

  And still, I go. Because I’m Panacea. The healer. The miracle girl. The one who fixes everything atleast that’s what Mom wants to think for the team's publicity. Its notl ike anyone been active anymore except Vicky…and me.

  My shoes slap the sidewalk rhythmically, but my mind is anything but steady. Every step closer to the hospital tightens the knot in my stomach. I already know how this day will go. They’ll shove patients in front of me one after another. It diddnt start like that..

  Nurses with dark circles under their eyes thanking me too much, doctors asking for miracles they’re too scared to attempt, administrators pretending they’re “protecting” me while quietly wringing every drop of usefulness out of me like a sponge.Somehow eventually, shoving things to me become natural.

  And I’ll smile, because that’s what Amy Dallon does. That’s what they expected of me. I tug my hood lower as a transport van rumbles past after Vicky sent me a little ways before the entrance “Are you sure you alright sis? You dont look so good Ames” she said, always the only person who cared enough to talk to me like that, except..Im…in..no never, I can never admit that..

  I just said “ Im fine…just tired from yesterday. See you at home later, itl be a quick one” She nodded and fly towards, I lied of couse, its never a quick one, The doctors will find a way to put more patients on me because they can’t handle it.

  I don’t need anyone recognising me this early. Walking a little towards the General hospital gives me time to think, The wards revently have some sort of mech; I have a hoodie and a growing migraine…sometimes I wish my powers would just give me the ability to make stuff instead of…this.

  I think, not for the first time, how stupid it is that people believe healing is easy. They see the flashy part, the moment the wound closes, the pain stops, the breathing stabilises. They don’t see what I see: the rot in their lungs, the little cancers growing like greedy weeds, the hereditary defects sitting like landmines, the microscopic things that don’t care how many times someone thanked me.

  Every patient is a landscape, and every landscape is broken in a different way. Some I can fix with a touch; some I can’t touch at all without risking… no. I stop that train of thought before it spirals. I’ve learned to do that. The worst part is knowing I’m the only one who can do what I do. No backup. No second shift. Just me and they expected me to do it too.

  No one must know that I am a healer who hates healing, walking toward another day of pretending I don’t. That's the thing I find out about the job quickly. It’s a selfless thankless job, the thanks given by the patients seemed empty to me.

  The hospital is in sight by the time I force myself to take a steadying breath. The automatic doors hiss open with that familiar squeal that always sets my teeth on edge.

  Please don’t let this emergency be something stupid.

  I tighten my jaw, push inside, and brace myself for another day of being exactly who the city needs, and nobody I want to be.I slipped my pass through the staff entrance and braced myself. It was always loud inside, voices layered over voices, machines beeping, shoes slapping tile. Today, it was worse. The whole place felt tense, vibrating at the edges.

  Of course it was, Just another cardio thoracic issue, Primary Pulmonary Paraganglioma: A very unusual type of tumor for lung tissue, requiring a case report to document its histology and management according to the doctor diagnosing it, I wouldn’t know. I didnt go to a medical school. The surgeon in charge wasn’t available and the patient is in critical issue, so they had to call me. I heal the person, reduce the scarring, and deleted the tumor directly burn it from the system.

  Another boring day..except it wasnt. There seem to be some sort of gang related fight downstairs right now.

  I’d checked the call details once I gotten out of OR-. “Possible gang-related hostile behavior.” Which was code for: Stay indoors and dont make a sound or something.

  So I pushed through the doors, keeping my hood low, trying to ignore the nurses’ tired nods of greeting, the way a few orderlies looked relieved when they spotted me. Like everything was suddenly going to be fine now.

  Then the smell hit me.

  Something between burning plastic, garbage water, and..fucking god awful, ..is that fermented urine?! fuck! The sharp kind that made your eyes sting. That wasn’t medical. That wasn’t fuck it-that was-

  Merchants. Real capes are here.. villains.

  I let out a breath and walked toward the lobby, every cell in my body screaming at me to leave, leave, leave. But I didn’t. I never did.Their voices echoed before I reached the corner. Angry. Threatening. Erratic.

  “…hurry up or I swear to God!”

  “Get this crap outta my!”

  Someone was crying. Someone else was shouting for security. Typical Merchant chaos.I swallowed hard, bracing myself then something… shifted.

  Light flared in the corner of my vision not harsh like hospital fluorescents, but warm. Controlled. Purposeful. A glow that felt… clean, somehow. Which was impossible in this place.

  I turned the corner to see what’s wrong.

  A tall man in strange armor cybernetic military armor,sleek, white, gold plates, some of the parts glowlike some kind of hard-light projection and two woman stood in the middle of the lobby. Staff buzzing with golden energy. A healer. A real one? Or some new cape gimmick? Another one with similar outfit except it looks more form fitting and wearing it like a tight body armor she sports the typical St-John Medical red and white and seems to be releasing a soundwave that makes me sorta dizzy.

  The Merchants certainly weren’t expecting it. They’d backed into a wide, confused semicircle, even Squeler staring as she’d never seen anything like it before. The man take them down so fast I couldn’t even manage to blink as he work in tandem with the other cape. The golden one then proceed to heal them, even removing the bullet from the villain butt and I can see the light weave and knit the wound almost instantly.

  A real healer…tinker tech too.

  And beside him stood a young man I recognised from somewhere couldn’t place it calm, steady, unfazed by the screaming addicts pointing guns around the room. And I, just me, Amy Dallon, the girl expected to fix everything, was suddenly the least important healer in the building.

  For one terrifying, relieved moment…

  …I didn’t know what to do.

  I'm sorta relieved …why?

  Are there other healers?

  don’t know what I expected to see when I rounded the corner into the lobby, definitely not that.

  Golden light. Actual golden light, warm and soft and pulsing like a heartbeat, spilling across the dingy tile and flickering over the grimy windows. For a second I honestly thought I was hallucinating. What was that golden light?

  Brockton Bay General doesn’t get golden anything. We get fluorescent hum and the smell of disinfectant that never quite covers the mildew.And in the middle of it all, she stood there.

  The healer.

  Tall, blonde, immaculate. A gold-white staff humming with some kind of micro-filament tech that made my brain ache just looking at it. She spoke softly to one of the nurse, Jones I think, the one that still flinches every time she sees blood even when she’d worked here for years.

  That golden girl looked like she belonged here. Like she wasn’t standing awkwardly. Is she a doctor too? Not just a cape, but a real doctor? I froze halfway down the hall.

  the weird Asian cape that saved me and Vicky at the mall, that sounded like him even underneath all that armor when he speaks to the villains, he’s leaning casually like a hostage situation was just a mild inconvenience. Like he’s bored outta his mind, samething he did that day a few weeks ago. Seems like a long time ago,

  The Merchants were looking confused as the other girl with red and white pinned them down with some sort of taser weapon, and honestly? I dont care. I'm scared .But all of that drifted into background noise. Because I couldn’t stop staring at her.

  She moved with this effortless, practised calm,Every sweep of her staff sent golden threads knitting through tissue and cellular structures with near-perfect precision. I didn’t even need to touch the patients to sense it. My powers seem to tugged at me, whispering about patterns and wrongness and beauty and technique and…

  And I hated it.

  I hated the little twist in my ribcage. The sharp spike of envy. The stupid, pointless, petty jealousy that hit me when I saw her. Someone who healed without sweating. Someone who smiled and made the nurses relax. Someone who didn’t have a ball of dread permanently lodged behind her sternum every time someone screamed her name.

  She just… moved. And healed. And talked to people like it was nothing like it’s natural, why Can’t I be like that?

  Meanwhile, I was standing there clutching my messenger bag like a kid on her first day of school, trying not to look like the world’s saddest fraud of a miracle worker. No one looks at me like that. They look at me like a tool. A cure. A button to press.

  “Panacea, fix this.”

  “Panacea, we need you.”

  “Panacea, hurry.”

  But her? They watched her because they were in awe.

  And I stood there, feeling very small, very tired, and very aware that for the first time in a long, long while someone else had walked into my territory. I heal.

  Even if I hate myself for the jealousy that blooms like a bruise under my ribs.Even if the new healer in the lobby shines brighter than I ever could. Even if, for just one second, I wished I could be her instead.

  Do they even need me anymore after this?

  The tears kept dropping..I didnt even realize I was crying.

  I -I dont..

  I ran-

  AN/

  And…Pan pan ran like my plot with this story. How to write a believable panpan, I've seen so many iterations of her that I dont even remember what the original in Worm is anymore, some good, some bad, some very ugly, some..more depraved than the original. Hard to find a balance with her, as I always feel like Panacea is one of those characters that is very important and then midway in the story, she was just…I dont know. Filler? First time I’ve read worm, it left a bad taste in my mouth ngl- love her or hate her I guess. A person like her once you reach the point of no retur,n is like one of those villainesses serious that tend to go super nuclear and then get a reset and do over to reform said villainess for a better ending manhwa trope..You ever get the feeling? I do. Tell me if you want more panpan.