Oh, poor Amy, you were delicious! (By DoctorNobody)
Amy surfaced from the bay, gasping for breath. Taylor, in her Raptaur form splashed up next to her with a stopwatch.
"17:34, Amy," she said, "Almost a new record."
"Huh," Panacea muttered, "I thought the Mark 18 would improve my lung capacity more than that."
"Back to the drawing board... well drawing tub of goo?"
"Yeah, I guess," she said as they swam to shore. "I miss anything while I was under?"
"Naw, Armsmaster swung by on his bike just after you went down. He looked over and then tore away real fast."
"Probably got a call on his helmet radio," she told her friend, picking up her costume robes from where they laid folded on the sand. She rubbed the blotchy, red stains soaked into the white clothe. "Ughhh... ketchup never comes out. Should not have let you talk me into Fugly Bob's before we went swimming."
The gathered Dallon family looked on, aghast at the picture Armsmaster's halberd was projecting. Raptaur, sinking into the depths, an enormous, monstrous tongue licking something red from her lips, and casually waving back at Armsmaster. Panacea's bloody robes on the beach behind her.
"...it seems Raptaur has shown her true colors," he concluded.
"How..." Glory Girl tremoured out. "She... wha... Oh My God! All those times she and Amy went out to eat..."
"Indeed," the bearded hero replied. "My analysis of Panacea and Raptaur's previous recorded interactions points to only one conclusion."
"You mean..." Brandish spluttered, "She was..."
"I'm afraid it's the logical, inescapable..."
"No, wait!" Glory Girl cried. "Raptaur and Saurial love Tabasco and..."
"Of course!" Armsmaster smacked his fist into his open palm. "How could I have missed it?"
Mark nodded absently from his place on the couch. "The leftovers were Thai..."
"Or Cajun..." his daughter added.
"And somewhat frequently TexMex," the Tinker in the room responded.
"Someone tell me, dammit!" Brandish demanded.
Glory Girl turned to her mother. "Mom! She wasn't just fattening Amy, she was seasoning her!"