But, it’s hobson’s choice for them.

This is actually something of a trope (or cliche) in fiction — the brilliant doctor who at best is annoying as Hell and at worst considers him or herself superior to their patients (or has a God complex).

She also is clearly selfish — or at least self-centered. When Paragon says he needs to return to the fight, it’s probably safe to accept his word on it. He’s the Superman pastiche of the world for a reason. Doctor Lance’s advice makes perfect sense if this were a game, but given the likely stakes it sounds more like she’s either intentionally blinding herself to the reality of the situation or she’s arrogant enough to think that her insistence he stay out of fights until his bone heals trumps whatever situation is out there (and whoever Paragon is going to save).

Put another way — I don’t disagree with you. :) OTOH, her thesis is a lot of men and women study paranormal medicine — for the boatloads of cash or to help the greatest heroes of their day — and end up being unable to hack it. It’s certainly well established that certain professions need emotional distance or they won’t work out. If her method of sarcastic disdain gives her both the capacity not to shut down and the willpower to work what is after all an insanely difficult schedule, who’s to say that’s a bad thing?

Gotta wonder how her patients appreciate her condescending attitude. Oh, she may not show it or let it slip past her lips, but come on, she’s constantly surrounded by individuals who are super-detectives, have insane IQs, who can read minds, monitor her respiration and pulse with their hearing… they’d have to know that she regards them as ridiculous idiots. Heck, some of them can probably smell the condescension on her.

Must do wonders for her doctor-client relationship. They go out, face incredible danger on a daily basis, then the one person on earth who they can go to for medical aid is someone who regards them as retarded children.

And if she’d been paying attention in her own universe, she would have noticed how often those police, and armies, and firefighters, etc. proved utterly ineffective against the threats that superheroes routinely face. It’s easy to laugh at UberDude…. till a million-ton asteroid is hurtling towards the planet and your entire civilization has nothing more than a broken down fleet of space shuttles built in the 1980s to deal with it. Or a thirty-story firebreathing monster is tearing up the city. Or some person with the same powers as UberDude but a hell of a lot less philanthropy is pounding the crap out of the local Army, one main battle tank at a time.

Oh yes, Doctor, let us ring up the constables. They’ll be around momentarily to deal with this little dustup.

She may regard the heroes as overgrown children “playing at cops and robbers—” but she seems to have overlooked the fact that the villains are dead serious.

In a world of superpowers, monsters, mad scientists, and megalomaniacs, the Fanfare for the Common Man is a bit tinny to toot as a battle charge.

A cliche is more often than not a practical truth that gets repeated so often noone remembers how it started. The cliches of the superhero genre fall in that category. The whole concept of a superhero is this: that there are some things a government or bureaucracy cannot do– should not do– and that a private individual gifted above common men would be morally OBLIGATED to do. And if you’re going to do them, you’d better preserve your anonymity and your autonomy, if for no other reason than to have a moment’s peace from time to time…. and to avoid certain words. Words like “Government laboratory” and “test subject” and “super-weapon” and “alien autopsy” and “dissection.” Opening sentences like “As you know, we have your loved ones in our clutches….”

At the same time you’d better be danged sure that Officer Donut Break can recognize you BEFORE he pulls his service pistol and starts firing. Yes, I think I shall wear the bright red and blue tights with my initials in a big shiny symbol on my chest, rather than the street clothes and ski mask.

And yes, spandex. The stuff was normally used as garb for athletes and acrobats, after all (they reportedly have better materials out now, breathes better, etc.) Cops may not wear spandex but neither do cops attempt to wall-crawl, perform acrobatic leaps and tumbles, or do karate high kicks…. And in a fight, loose, baggy clothes are something of a bad idea.

And finally, in a superhero universe OR in our own, she would have had to occasionally notice that “the proper authorities” aren’t always there. They are, in fact, almost NEVER there till some considerable time has passed and a great deal of damage has been done. (call a cop, call a fireman, call an ambulance, call dominos— and place a bet on who gets there first. Loser has to buy the pie.)
That is why private citizens learn First Aid, and carry firearms, and keep fire extinguishers in handy locations. That is also why some goof who got bit by a radioactive spider or irradiated with alien cosmic rays or spontaneously developed a mysterious mutant ability would keep a mask in his hip pocket and a skintight costume under his business suit. You’re there, you’ve got the tools and the gift, and you’d better darn well use ‘em if you want to look yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning.
And if they make you a cartoon hero for it, well hells, a little fame and gratitude ain’t much to ask for putting your metahuman butt on the line.

I agree with others – It lacks a conflict. There’s no struggling to figure out what’s wrong or experimenting going on here.