[The Kill List]—❈—06:: Pan-Pan the Sad and Miserable

Most people didn’t know this, but Amy Dallon, more commonly known by her hero name Panacea, was not a pleasant person to be around.

They didn’t know this because, thankfully for them and for Amy’s family, Amy didn’t like to be around people.

In fact, she rarely ever interacted with anyone unless her much more amicable sister Vicky, more commonly known by her hero name Glory Girl (or Collateral Damage Barbie to certain assholes on the internet), was around to act as a buffer for her.

Because of this, and because of the fact that, as Panacea, Amy was Brockton Bay’s sweetheart, the miracle healer who healed the sick and the wounded for nothing, people saw her as shy and self-effacing, instead of what she really was; bitter, acerbic, and generally unpleasant.

To be fair to Amy, she wasn’t a bad person, just a bitchy one, and if the seventeen year old had the self-awareness for it, she would have realized that those words perfectly described a certain someone in her life, her adoptive mother (adoptive being the operative word), Carol Dallon.

Although, I suppose it’s a good thing that Amy lacked the self-awareness for it, for if ever she were to realize just how much she was like her adoptive mother, her mind would probably snap.

Speaking of snapping minds, Amy’s was close; it was actually a big part of why she was such a bitch in fact. After all, it is a well recorded fact that unhappy people spread unhappiness in the world, and Amy had some pretty good reasons to be unhappy.

Well, no, actually, Amy really only had two reasons to be unhappy, and to her eternal torment, those two reasons were the two people she felt the most towards in her life; her adoptive mother, Carol, and her sister, Vicky.

Now, as earlier expressed, Carol was a bitch.

This is relevant because, it is important to note that being a bitch was her resting state.

Carol did not have to try to be a bitch; bitch degrees Celsius was her room temperature.

Whenever she was around Amy though, Carol cranked up the dial on her bitch thermostat all the way into the red.

It was like she despised Amy and couldn’t be assed to hide it.

As one would expect, living with a woman who hates your guts and acts like it tends to leave a mark, especially when that woman also holds firm control over every aspect of your life.

Add in that woman being the only mother you’ve ever known (adopted or not) and well…

While Carol was a source of unhappiness and distress in Amy’s life because of her awfulness to the teen, Vicky was so for the exact opposite reason.

To Amy, Vicky was the beauty of colour; she was the rhythm of sound and the tingle of touch.

She was the sun; beautiful, vibrant, life-giving, but eternally unattainable.

To Amy, Vicky was a love that burned and destroyed in sweet, sweet agony.

To Amy, Vicky was the kind of girl to write tortured poetry about while listening to Adele.

There are many theories among the extradimensional community as to why Amy loves Vicky, though the general consensus seems to be that constant exposure to Vicky’s aura created some kind of Pavlovian effect on the teenage girl; conditioning her to being enamored (you could say) with Vicky’s presence.

Now, I can’t tell you that they’re wrong, but I will tell you that I think they are.

See, people (particularly in modern society) have some odd conditioned revulsion towards the idea of incest that is pretty ridiculous when you take the time to think about it. And while I could try to delve into the social, political, and whatever other changes that brought that about, suffice to say that this conditioned revulsion exists, and for many, it is strong enough to create the idea that no properly functioning person could ever be sexually attracted to a known family member.

Even if an adoptive one.

Therefore, the only reason why Amy could ever be in love with her sister, is because something something parahuman brainwashing powers.

I think this is hogwash.

See, love is a beautiful thing, a wonderful thing. Hell, it is even generally a good one.

Unfortunately, beautiful or not, it can sometimes grow in the most inconvenient of places, and when that happens, it becomes a weed. An annoyance for all involved.

Amy simply had the misfortune to be an inconvenient place for the love that found her to blossom.

Speaking of the love that found her, Vicky descended from above down to Amy where she stood on the hospital roof.

The beautiful blonde made a face of disgust and slight irritation as she landed.

“Really, Ames?” she sniffed. “Smoking? Again?”

“It keeps me warm,” Amy said, though she tossed the cigarette.

“It’s like a billion degrees out tonight, Amy,” Vicky pointed out.

She was right, it was. Brockton Bay didn’t really do cold weather, like at all, but the Sunday night was still atypically warm, even for The Bay.

It was warm enough in fact that Amy felt slightly uncomfortable in her Panacea robes despite it being almost midnight.

Vicky sighed. “Look, if Mom smells it on you, don’t look at me for help,” she said finally, before moving in to lift Amy in a bridal carry.

Amy snuggled into her sister, trying to convince herself that she simply wanted to make sure Vicky had a firm hold on her.

It worked a little too well, because Vicky said softly; “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Amy swallowed, her sister’s voice and the physical contact combining to send delicious tingles all throughout her nerves.

Delicious tingles that were rapidly accompanied by an all too familiar sense of guilt and shame.

“I know.” Amy nodded.

Vicky took off, flying about as fast as an Olympic sprinter over streets and rooftops.

Amy closed her eyes.

This was the best part of her day really, and it was practically the only part she still cared for about the late nights she kept at the hospitals on the weekends.

After all, ‘Panacea the priceless healer’ couldn’t be allowed to wander Brockton Bay late at night by herself, Carol hated her but she wasn’t stupid. That was just asking for trouble.

As such, the family’s flying brute package had been designated her chauffeur for the foreseeable future. A role the blonde had accepted graciously and took quite seriously.

It was why Vicky always flew her home if it was late. ‘Better to be up here than down there,’ she’d said.

Amy wasn’t complaining. She would take any opportunity to be in her sister’s arms, even if it always came with that pang of self-loathing at why she so loved to be in them.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Vicky asked, halting her flight in midair.

Amy opened her eyes, and, following Vicky’s gaze, peered down at a shadowy figure perched on a rooftop below.

Before she could say anything, the figure turned, and Amy felt his (based on the silhouette) gaze on her and her sister.

It wasn’t threatening, or dangerous, but it was there, and it felt… heavy in a way that Amy had never experienced before.

It felt powerful.

“Whoa,” Vicky muttered. “Who the hell is this guy?”

Amy didn’t like the tone in her sister’s voice.

The silhouette, whoever he was, waved at them, then he gestured for them to come down.

Vicky obeyed.

“Vicky, what the fuck are you doing?” Amy asked in a fierce whisper.

“He wants to talk,” Vicky said.

“What makes you think that?” Amy almost screamed. “You don’t know this guy, he could be a villain. Think, Vic.”

Vicky said nothing, proceeding to land on the roof.

To her credit, she landed on the opposite end of the rooftop from the stranger, and when she set Amy down, she guarded her squishy body with her much more durable one.

The stranger walked up to them carefully, hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” he said when he was close enough to speak softly and be heard, “the name’s Vinsmoke. Prince Vinsmoke. You can call me Black Leg.”