I was doing what I could do.
I focused my power on the knife in my hand. The cells shifted, new organelles formed, and proteins flowed out. A black sheen coated the blade. I gripped it tighter. In my other hand was a small block of the same wood used in my armor. Bringing the knife to the block, I sliced it across. There was no sound as it cut into the block, leaving a gouge across the material.
I was trying not to focus on what I couldn't do.
The block healed the gouge across its face, leaving it pristine. Staring down at it, I started tweaking the cells within it. Cell walls shifted, interlocking as the entire internal structure shifted. Individual cells could withstand damage, but the connection points were the issue. I could always go denser, but that increased the weight drastically. The knife cut a deeper gouge into the block.
There had to be a better way.
I glared down at the block. It just sat there. I sighed and melded the gouge and reverted to the previous version. Let's try hexagons again. The internal structure shifted with my thoughts, each cell interlocking together. This time, a different combination of polysaccharides was used for the cell walls. The block changed color slightly, becoming a little more green. I brought the knife across its surface again, and it left a shallower cut.
Progress, but far from fast enough.
The knife regenerated its black sheen and I refocused on the block. Hexagons were the best layout. It wasn't as strong as the brick layout for resisting penetration but there was better energy distribution. With the right combination of polysaccharides and proteins, I likely could figure out how to-
Knock, knock, knock. "Amy, we need to talk."
I panicked at Carol's voice, almost cutting myself in my haste to try and hide the knife. Both it and the block got shoved under my pillow. Taking a breath to try and calm myself, I called out.
"Come in." Leaning onto the pillow with one hand, I watched Carol walk in. Her expression looked distracted but changed when she saw how I was sitting. Her eyes narrowed, flicking between the pillow and me. Shit.
"So what did you want to talk about?" I did my best to keep my voice level. A few moments went by before her expression settled back to neutral.
"You don't have any plans on the Twenty-First, correct?" The question took me off guard for a moment, as I tried to remember.
"I don't think so. Why?" She held up a piece of paper I hadn't noticed, glancing at it as she spoke.
"Miss McHarlin sent us an invitation to a party she's holding." A small sinking feeling entered my gut. "I normally would turn it down. However, you've been spending a lot of time recently with Wendy. Because of that, I thought it best to accept the invitation. Victoria and Mark will be busy with the Boardwalk Festival, so it'll just be you and I going."
"I…" I faltered as she stared at me, one eyebrow raised expectantly. "Okay, that's fine."
"It's more formal than their last party, according to the letter. Don't wear what's planned for the Gala though, it can't be that fancy. We'll leave at four sharp." She turned to leave and stopped, her eyes landing on something. I followed her gaze to the pitcher plant sitting on my window sill.
"That's new." The accusation went unsaid but it was felt, as she turned back to look at me. "Your creation?"
"Just an altered pitcher plant." I internally cursed myself for leaving that out. "Gets rid of bugs and looks pretty… Considering making more of them as Christmas Gifts."
"Sterile?" She asked, not even hiding the suspicion in her voice. A small frown came over my face at that question, and I nodded.
"I know better than to make anything that can reproduce." Even if she was always suspicious of me, I couldn't believe she'd think I was that dumb. She frowned back at me, and we stared at each other.
"Of course. I'm sure any plants you give to anyone, they'll enjoy them." With those words she turned to the door, only to add one last thing before leaving. "I look forward to meeting Wendy again. It's been a bit."
The door clicked shut and I was left alone in my room again.
A few moments passed, and then I grabbed my pillow. Pressing my face into it, I let out a muffled scream. Only to notice it felt a lot thinner than before. Pulling it away from my face, I held it up and watched stuffing fall out of a gash in its bottom. My eyes followed the trail back to where the knife sat.
My eyebrow twitched.
Stuffing went flying everywhere as I hurled the pillow across the room. A mostly empty sack hit the ground in front of my garbage can. Standing up and grabbing the knife and block, I merged the two back into the orb. I almost hurled it into the wall before I stopped myself. An idea popped into my head. With a thought its structure shifted, expanding while its outer shell became softer. Before too long I was holding a ball around the size of my head with a smooth surface.
I squeezed it between my hands, and part of it ballooned out. I hugged it against my chest and squeezed. I punched it and my fist bounced off. I hurled it at a nearby wall and it bounced off, rolling back to my feet. I stomped on it and it flattened like a pancake.
It made me feel a little better. The ball bounced back up as I took my foot off. Grumbling, I started gathering up the scattered stuffing from my pillow. As I cleaned I tried to figure out what to do about this situation.
Going to a party with just Carol sounded like a nightmare. Odds were that it was a nightmare of mine at some point. The thought of her staring over my shoulder the entire time made me shudder. I'd have Wendy there at the least, but that just led to the other problem. Carol just wanted to gauge whether Wendy was a "good influence" on me or something. Whether the McHarlins were a good family or not to be associated with.
A small groan escaped me as I shoved the stuffing back into the pillow.
It was going to be so awkward going back to their house. I had been avoiding it like the plague ever since the party. Especially since I wasn't sorry for what happened. Sophia needed someone to tell them off. Apologizing for almost getting into a fight with her was near the bottom of my bucket list. Right alongside asking Dean for a kiss and telling Shadow Stalker, she was stronger than me.
I got all the stuffing back into the pillow and stared at the cut. It did not fix itself. Letting out a small huff, I reached down to the ball. A small piece came off of it with a thought. Altering the cells inside of it, it shifted, condensing down into a needle, while a vine-like thread formed attached to it. I started to sew the cut shut.
Maybe Carol wouldn't want me to apologize? After all, I was defending Vicky's reputation. She hated the stuff said about Vicky in private as much as I did. It might just be her wanting to meet the McHarlins. What if she didn't like them though? There was no way she'd have a problem with Wendy, she knew Wendy from Vicky's basketball days. The issue was her parents. Wendy said a lot about her parents, though she hadn't been complaining as much recently.
Detaching the thread from the needle, I stared down at my work. It was simple, just a back-and-forth stitch across the cut. Pressing a finger against the thread, I condensed the cells down further. Tightening the stitching, before I hardened it. The pillow was tested with a few squeezes. No stuffing fell out, and it was deposited back into its case.
As little fun as being stuck at a party with Carol would be, I was probably panicking over nothing. The argument with Vicky and Shadow Stalker had left me on edge. Grabbing the ball from the floor, another squeeze made me feel a little better.
Staying in the house was driving me crazy. There was nothing but useless experimentation here to keep me distracted. The ball condensed down with practiced ease, the tiniest amount smaller. I shoved it back into its hiding spot behind my socks.
Fresh air would clear my head.
Fresh air was not clearing my head.
An icy cloud slipped free with my exhale into the cold winter air. I was still a mess, I was just a cold mess now.
Trying to dig my hands further into my pockets, I continued my walk around Ridgewell Park. It had snowed again since the last time I practiced here. It felt very different from then though. The stillness of the park at night was nowhere to be found. Instead, it was filled with shrieking.
Children ran around screaming their heads off, flinging snowballs at each other. Others worked to bundle snow into balls, competing to make the biggest snowman. Bunched up around the benches were their parents, mothers with a smattering of fathers, chatting away.
Someone else might have found it endearing.
Shaking my head, I continued my walk through the park. It was still pretty, despite the children infesting it. Some trees were loaded down with snow, while others were trapped in a layer of ice. I stopped beside one of them, the light catching the ice just right to cause it to sparkle. The lights shifted and rotated with each step forward or back I took.
"Whatcha doin'?"
The sudden voice beside me made me jump. Whirling around, one of the kids was staring at me. About ten years old, black-haired with a gap in his teeth. My eyes widened as I recognized him, and his eyes widened as he recognized me. Oh no.
"You're Panacea!" The shrill voice made me wince. Glancing around, the only person who noticed was one of the women in the group. She looked familiar, one of the women at the party, probably his mother.
"I'm only Panacea in costume. I'm Amy Dallon right now… And I was looking at the ice on the tree." I gestured to the tree, even as the kid tilted his head.
"How can you be Panacea sometimes and Amy Dallon other times?" The confusion in his voice made me sigh.
"If I'm wearing the costume, I'm doing hero stuff. Healing people, going to events, doing hero work. Thus I'm Panacea." I gave the canned answer I always used in this situation. "If I'm not wearing the costume, I'm not doing hero work, I'm doing regular stuff. I'm Amy Dallon. I can swap back to being Panacea if need be, but I'm trying to relax right now."
The kid stared at me for a few more moments before he nodded. I sagged in relief as I didn't have to explain it again.
"Were you planning on turning that tree into a robot?" He asked, vibrating in place. I brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose.
"No, I'm not planning on turning the tree into a robot. I'm not out here doing anything related to capes. I'm just out here to take a walk in the park." I tried to say it as firmly as I could without being a bitch. He frowned and I could tell he didn't like that answer.
"That's boring. If I had your powers I'd make a giant mech suit out of wood and smash all the bad guys." He said with all the conviction only a ten-year-old could manage. Some movement caught my eye before I could respond. His mother was moving towards us.
"Jerry! Quit bothering her. Even heroes are allowed to take breaks." He pouted and skulked off to rejoin his friends in their game. She let out a low sigh and shook her head before turning back to me.
"Sorry about him. You don't see a hero every day, even outside of costume. Plus he's met you already so that probably got him more excited. I hope he didn't give you too much trouble?" I shifted awkwardly in place as she tried to apologize.
"It's… fine." I cut her off, shrugging my shoulders. There was something funny about how close he had gotten to the idea of Sequoia. "He just talked a bit. I'll take that over people bothering me for check-ups or to heal random bruises."
"I think everyone hates getting bothered about work when they're not working." She agreed, a look of sympathy on her face. "It's probably even worse when your work is so stressful."
"You don't know half of it." I agreed, letting out a sigh and rubbing my neck. "Figured I'd come out and see the park. It's pretty with all the snow and ice."
"It is. Brockton doesn't get enough snow." She turned to look at the tree I had been originally looking at, and I followed her gaze. For several moments neither of us said anything. Until a child started crying, and she sighed.
"I should make sure Jerry isn't responsible for that. I hope you enjoy your day, Amy." She gave me one last smile and turned, walking off towards where the crying was coming from. I watched her go for a moment, eyes lingering on her.
Thad had been an oddly pleasant conversation to have with a soccer mom. Stepping off the path, my shoes crunched through the snow as I moved around the tree. I put my back against it and stared towards the sky.
When had I last talked to someone who wasn't family or Wendy? It had been the party at Wendy's, and outside of that. Nothing. I always expected people to want something or make things awkward by focusing so much on Panacea the Cape. I generally preferred not talking to people, but I had to admit…
It was nice to have someone get it who wasn't just Vicky or Wendy. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. There wasn't anything else to it. It was just nice to have someone else who got it. No strings attached, no extra baggage, no judgment, just someone who seemed to get it.
I pushed myself off the tree, patting it once before walking again. The snow continued to crunch under my shoes as I worked through the less populated part of the park. As I went, I flipped the hood of my jacket up. Even if the conversation with Jerry's Mom had been pleasant, I didn't want anyone else to recognize me.
The hot cocoa at Babel sounded good. I'd been meaning to go back there ever since my last visit. Despite the circumstances, it had good hot cocoa. It had a good vibe. I didn't have to worry about anyone recognizing me if I sat facing the window. Frankly, it was the perfect place to relax.
It was a quick walk from the park to the cafe. Pushing open the door, the bell attached to it chimed. It was busier than it was last time, barely. Two people sat off to the side at a table quietly talking, with a third sitting alone in one of the booths on a laptop. The same goth girl was manning the counter, lazily scrolling on her phone.
"One hot cocoa, please. With marshmallows." I spoke up as I stepped up to the counter. She looked up at me with a bored stare before putting her phone down.
"Three dollars." Even as she was saying the cost I was digging out my wallet. Most of my allowance was gone, spent on presents, but I had enough left over to afford this.
She took my cash and put it into the register, before turning to the tools they had behind the counter. I stepped to the side and watched her work. Milk filled a small pot, followed by cocoa powder and sugar. It was put onto a hotplate and mixed with a spoon. After not even a minute it was pulled off, and a drop of vanilla extract was mixed in. Then it was poured directly into a mug. Before being topped off with three marshmallows being dropped in.
"Thank you for your patronage." Despite the work of art she'd made, the girl manning the counter sounded bored. As she passed it over, I gave her a nod and a smile.
"Thank you." I meant it. The mug was warm in my hands as I walked away from the counter. Steam wafted up and tickled my nose with the scent of chocolate.
One of the two windows had a small counter to sit at while looking out at the street. I gladly took one of the three plush stools they had sitting at it. Planting my elbows, I blew across the top of the mug. The marshmallows bobbed with the motion, and I lifted it to my lips.
After the cold outside, the warmth of the hot cocoa was amazing. I savored the mixture of chocolate, sugar, and vanilla on my tongue for a moment. It felt like I was melting as the taste helped me relax. For a few moments, it was all that mattered to me.
The soft jazz paired with that quiet conversation was soothing. Outside, a few flakes of snow began to fall. I brought the mug to my lips and took another sip as I watched one slowly drift down. It landed on the top of a car parked on the side of the street. The door chimed again, letting a short gust of cold air in as someone stepped inside.
I took another sip.
It was so cozy, that for a moment, I felt guilty.
I could be out healing. I could be experimenting. I could be practicing. There were people out there worse off than me at that moment. I could be helping. It would be the heroic thing to do. To stop wasting time like this and do something productive.
The image of Vicky popped into my head, looking completely lost as she left the house. With all her strength, she couldn't fix the city any more than I could. It was tearing her up just like it was tearing me up. We were just dealing with it in different ways. It wasn't something an extra hour of work would fix.
Wendy's voice whispered at me from a memory. She told me to relax more, to enjoy myself. The world wouldn't be any better off if I burnt myself out. There was no reason for me to be constantly anxious about what I could be doing.
I could just let myself rest sometimes.
So I tried. I took a breath and tried to let go of that guilt. And for that moment, with a warm mug of cocoa in my hands, and smooth jazz in my ears, I felt empty.
Then a woman ran screaming from the park, clutching her child to her chest. "God dammit."
