Punch him?

He's here to make a mockery of hero work, she thought, teeth grinding. He doesn't care that if I didn't take this chance, I'd be stuck back at the prison as a guard... or bouncing job to job praying someone would hire a walking headline. He's an asshole.

"Miss ShapeCape," a voice echoed from the hallway. A man stood there holding a clipboard — tall, thin, tired-eyed. His name tag read Robertson.

"Hey— I do know you," Chitarrasaur cackled, his tail thumping the seat behind him. "Didn't know they started hiring rejects!" He slapped his knee with genuine, howling laughter, shaking the whole damn waiting room.

Amy's arm shifted on instinct, flesh melting into a swirling ball of fire, heat radiating off her knuckles.

"Woah—WAIT." Robertson stepped forward, hands raised. "Chitarrasaur—nice to see you're still compensating somewhere, at least."

The creature's smile dropped instantly.

"That's enough. Come on, Miss Reyes," Robertson said, gesturing her out. She followed him toward the stairwell.

Behind her, Chitarrasaur stewed in his own humiliation before roaring and kicking the waiting room table so hard it slammed into the opposite wall and cracked the paint.

Upstairs, Amy exhaled, letting the fire fade from her arm.

"So what are you, the DSN secretary?" she asked, brushing ash and heat off her sleeve.

"Actually? No," Robertson said, pushing open a heavy door. "Just doing my part. Considering we were almost wiped off the face of the city two months ago by Shroud and his damn Red Ring, everyone's wearing a few jobs these days."

He held the door wide for her.

"Project Reboot doesn't run itself."

Robertson stopped at a half-burned door with a crooked gold plate.

"Here we are. Blonde Blazer's office," he said. "She told me she can't wait to work with you again."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Is your superpower chivalry?"

"Something like that, missy," he smirked.

He pushed open the door.

Inside, Amy immediately noticed the window — still cracked from the last battle — and the desk, scorched with old singe marks like the room itself refused to forget what happened.

Then Blonde Blazer—Mandy—stood up and pulled Amy into a tight hug.

"I can't believe you actually put an application in," she laughed.

Amy blinked. Hard.

This wasn't the Mandy she knew.

Her busty physique, her perfectly curled blonde hair, her skin-tight signature suit — all gone.

Standing there was a still-beautiful but noticeably normal woman wearing simple activewear and a messy ponytail.

"Um... Mandy? Is that you?" Amy asked.

"Yes," Mandy said, brushing her hair out of her face with a sheepish smile. "It's me. I... uh... kinda gave up my power to help an old cranky man out."

"Track Star's only thirty-nine," Robertson corrected from behind them.

"Track Star needed my power," Mandy said, sitting down. "We're still figuring out how to help him so he doesn't age too fast."

"So what?" ShapeCape asked, stepping closer. "You're... a regular now?"

"For now, yes," she said happily. "Still trying to get used to it. Cardio actually hurts now. I'm not a fan."

Mandy leaned back in her chair.

"Anyway—what have you been up to, Amy?"