Amy knelt beside the injured woman, her hands hovering over the deep burns and jagged wounds. The woman's skin was blistered and torn, the aftermath of another one of Bakuda's bombs. Blood seeped through the shredded fabric of her clothes, staining the floor beneath them.
Amy's breath hitched as she pressed her hands against the woman's chest. She closed her eyes, focusing, feeling the torn tissue and burned flesh under her fingertips. Her power stretched through the woman's body, mapping the damage, knitting cells back together. The burns were bad — third degree, some muscle damage underneath. The shrapnel was worse. Thin slivers of metal had embedded deep, dangerously close to vital organs. Amy bit her lip and forced herself to stay calm as she began dissolving the metal and repairing the damage.
Then she felt it — cold and foreign, sitting near the woman's spine. Metal, but not like the others. A device. Small and compact, laced with circuits.
Her eyes flew open. "No, no, no—"
The woman's body tensed. Amy's hand jerked away as a low, mechanical whine sounded beneath her fingers.
"Bomb!" someone shouted.
The guards moved, but it was too late.
The explosion hit before Amy could think. A blinding wave of heat and sound ripped through the room. Amy felt herself being yanked backward as a shimmering forcefield snapped into place around her. A sharp, crushing pain bloomed across her ribs as the pressure from the blast hit her chest.
Amy gasped, choking on smoke and heat. Her ears rang. Her heart hammered in her chest as she blinked through the haze. The woman's body was gone — reduced to burning fragments against the forcefield. Amy's stomach rolled at the sight.
Her hands curled into fists as the pain in her chest flared. Then the heat surged again, and everything went dark.
______
Amy woke up with a sharp gasp, her body screaming in protest as the first thing she felt was the burning, throbbing ache in her muscles. Her head pounded, her lungs felt tight, and every inch of her skin stung like it had been dragged across broken glass. She groaned and tried to shift, but the rough texture of sand scraped against her raw skin, making her wince.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Bright sunlight stabbed into her skull, forcing her to squint. Her arms trembled as she pushed herself up, the coarse grains of sand digging into her skin as she tried to sit up. Her body felt… wrong. Heavy and light at the same time, like her limbs weren't connected to her properly.
She blinked, trying to clear her blurred vision. The sound of waves crashing filled her ears, the salty tang of the ocean clinging to her tongue. A strong breeze blew over her, stirring her matted hair and sending a fresh wave of pain through her burned skin.
Where the hell was she?
Her mind swam as she tried to process the chaos of sensations crashing down on her all at once. Her muscles were torn, her skin shredded and blistered. Bacteria crawled over her skin, tiny organisms writhing within the wounds. There were even grains of sand embedded under her flesh. She could feel it all, down to the cellular level.
She froze.
Wait.
Her eyes widened. How was she sensing this? How could she suddenly understand the damage to her body? She'd never been able to sense her own injuries before — not like this. Before, her power had always worked externally, pushing into someone else's body, fixing damage with ease. But now…
Her breath hitched as realization dawned.
Her hands trembled as she looked down at herself. Her arms were bare — burned and torn, the blackened remnants of her clothes still sticking to her blistered skin. Naked. Her heart slammed against her ribs, panic flooding through her veins as she scrambled to cover herself with her arms.
A shaky breath escaped her lips as her mind raced. This wasn't normal. None of this was normal. Could it be—?
Did I double-trigger?
She hesitated, her hands pressed tightly against her chest. Slowly, she closed her eyes and focused inward, the way she'd done thousands of times when healing others. But instead of reaching for someone else's body, she reached for her own.
And then… she felt it.
Her awareness shot through her body like wildfire. She could feel every muscle fiber, every torn ligament, every dead cell clinging to her. There was a giddy, terrifying sense of control — like she had stepped into a cockpit and suddenly had control over every single system in her body.
Amy took a shaky breath and focused. Tentatively, she sent a pulse of her power toward the burns on her arm.
Her eyes widened as her blistered skin began to knit itself together. New cells replaced the dead tissue. The pain faded almost instantly as smooth, pink skin emerged from beneath the charred flesh.
"Holy shit…" she whispered.
Her heart raced. She reached toward her ribs next, feeling the bruised bone beneath the surface. Slowly, methodically, she pushed the pain away, guiding her body to heal itself. It responded instantly, the soreness fading as new bone and muscle formed under her direction.
"I… I can heal myself," she whispered.
She laughed weakly, tears welling in her eyes. After all these years of being able to fix others but never herself — the helplessness, the frustration — it was gone. She could finally protect herself. Finally be whole.
Her exhaustion hit her all at once. Her limbs trembled, and her head spun as her energy drained away. She sagged, breathing hard, her hands digging into the sand. Of course healing herself would take energy. The body didn't regenerate for free.
Her hand pressed against her stomach, and her brows furrowed. She could feel the sharp pang of hunger beneath the fatigue. But then another thought hit her — if she could heal herself, could she…?
She closed her eyes again and reached deeper, into the stored fat in her body. Carefully, she directed the fat cells to break down, converting them into ATP. Instantly, her strength surged back. Her exhaustion faded as her body metabolized the energy.
"Holy shit," she muttered. Her fingers curled into the sand as a shiver ran through her body. "I can manipulate my own metabolism…"
Her eyes widened as the full scope of what had happened settled in. No more injuries. No more fatigue. No more helplessness.
Her breath hitched as a thought crept into her mind.
If I can manipulate my body this much…
Her hand brushed over her face. Her skin was smooth now, the burns completely gone. Her freckles — which she'd hated for years — were still there. But maybe they didn't have to be.
She closed her eyes and focused. She felt the melanin in her skin, the cells holding the pigment in place. With a careful push, she began to dissolve them. When she opened her eyes again, she rubbed her hand over her cheek and smiled.
The freckles were gone.
Her heart hammered with excitement. If she could do this — if she could reshape herself — then what else could she do?
Her mind raced as possibilities bloomed in her head. She could fix her figure. Make herself look like Victoria. Stronger. Prettier. Perfect. She could correct her posture, improve her muscle tone, fix the imperfections in her nose, lengthen her lashes—
Amy's breath quickened. She forced herself to stop, her hands trembling.
"This is dangerous…" she muttered. It was barely two minutes since she double triggered and she was already thinking of abusing her powers. It was so bad of her.
Her gaze drifted toward the horizon. The ocean stretched endlessly before her, bright and blue beneath the clear sky. No signs of Brockton Bay anywhere.
Where the hell was she?
Her brow furrowed. She pushed herself up to her feet, her legs still weak but holding steady. The sand clung to her bare skin as she took a shaky step toward the water.
A part of her mind reeled at the magnitude of what had happened. She had double-triggered. That much was clear. Her powers had expanded beyond anything she'd imagined. The fact that she could reshape herself, change her own biology at will. It opened up terrifying new doors.
Her lips curled into a shaky smile.
For once, she wasn't powerless. For once, she was in control.
Amy took a deep breath, steadied herself, and took another step forward.
Time to figure out what the hell had happened. But first, she needed some clothes.