Louis Phelps has recently come into the somewhat dubious honor of holding the powers of the long-running superhero Switcheroo! The only problem? Louis is a guy, and Switcheroo... is a heroINE!
What happens when the only candidate available to inherit a superpower is more than a little different than those who have had it before? Louis Phelps is about to find out.
Switcheroo
By Melanie E.
Chapter 1
So It Begins
Beebeebeep... beebeebeep... beebeebeep.
There was something I was supposed to do today, wasn't there?
Beebeebeep... beebeebeep... beebeebeep.
Oh, yeah. Absolutely nothing.
Beebeebeep... beebeebeep... beebeebeep.
"Lou, honey, get up and get dressed or you'll be late for your job interview!"
Crap. And if I didn't do it I just knew Mom would keep yelling up the stairs for the rest of the morning.
Beebeebeep...
"Shut up!" I yelled at the alarm clock as I smacked it into submission.
It couldn't have been more than, maybe, another fifteen minutes before I managed to stumble down the stairs to the kitchen, but from the look my mom gave me you would think I had just stumbled through the door after a night of binge drinking -- something I hadn't done since before I dropped out of college.
"Don't worry Mom, I'll make the interview," I said in an attempt to comfort her and confirm that I wasn't walking around in my sleep.
"You better, Louis James Phelps, or so help me..."
I tuned the rest of her rant out as I went about my usual morning routine of toast and O.J. in preparation for another failed interview followed by a long day of video games and self pity. Don't get me wrong, I wanted a job, or to get back into college, or anything to straighten my life up; it just didn't seem that anyone was interested in having me.
"If only you were more like your sister," managed to slip through my hearing before I could turn it off again, and I couldn't repress a sigh in response. My perfect little sister.
"Did you see her on the news last night?" I asked Mom in an attempt to change the subject.
"Yes, poor dear. It must have been frightening, having to rescue all those people from that bridge collapse."
"I'd imagine," I said as I sipped on my O.J. and nodded. That was my little sister, though. College sophomore, cheerleader, and ever since the incident six months ago, superheroine.
Yep, that's right, my sister Lesli was the ever-so-lucky bystander who inherited Switcheroo's superpowers when she was crushed by that boulder in that fight with Collision Course. It's all Mom had talked about since. That, and my failing as the eldest child to "set an example for my younger siblings." As if either her or Lucas -- our sixteen year old younger brother -- needed it. I was the only one of us with problems.
Little did I know how much worse those problems were about to get.
I had just finished my toast and risen from the table when a crash and thud from the front room brought me and Mom running. There we found Lesli, laying in the floor and covered in blood. I could see the remnants of the Switcheroo outfit still clinging to her body. I'm not sure which one of us it was who screamed, but I fell to my knees next to my sister at the same time as Mom, who cradled her head and began to cry.
"Mom...?" My sister rasped out, her voice weak. "Mom, help me..."
"My baby! Lesli!"
Lucas chose that moment to come downstairs, sleep still filling his eyes, but the instant he saw us, piled in the floor around a blood-covered Lesli, his eyes shot open.
"Call an ambulance!" I screamed at him, and I guess he heard me, because he dashed for the kitchen phone, but I already knew it was too late. I could feel her grasp on my hand weakening as I watched the last of the color fade from her face. "Come on Lesli, stay with us, please!"
Her eyes opened one last time, and she gave my hand a final squeeze as she gasped one word, "Weaver...." As her face went slack, I heard Mom wail in agony, but I couldn't move. As the tingling sensation passed over my body, my head began to swim.
That's when I passed out.
-
I'm still not sure exactly how long I was out for, but when I finally awoke I was laying on the couch in our front room, and Mom was still sitting in the floor, weeping, next to a bloody stain in the carpet. "Mom?" I asked weakly, "where's Lesli?"
"They took her!" She cried, her voice hoarse. "They came and took her away!"
"Who took her?"
"Some guys in hazard suits," I heard Lucas say from the direction of the kitchen. "They said that they didn't want any bleed-off from her powers hurting us or something like that. They got here just after you fainted."
I wanted to argue with him, but I knew that now wasn't the time. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I got up off the couch and knelt next to Mom, hugging her fiercely. She turned towards me and gripped me tightly, crying into my shoulder, repeating Lesli's name over and over in between sobs. I looked over towards Lucas, but he just stared at the blood stained carpet, his arms wrapped around himself and tears streaming down his face.
I didn't want to move, I didn't want to think, but I knew that I had to stay in control if I wanted to help Mom. I could feel my heart tearing even as it slowly dawned on me that my sister was really gone. I may have complained about her, but she had been my little sister, and she had meant the world to me. "Come on, Mom," I said, pulling her up and guiding her out of the front room and into the kitchen. "Lucas?" He ignored me. "Lucas!"
"What!"
"Call Aunt Sharon, have her come over and get Mom. Then call Dad, let him know that-"
"How can you be so calm! We just watched Lesli die and get taken away by some kind of Men in Black, and you're just-"
"Lucas!" I yelled, silencing him. "I'm just as tore up about this as you are, but.... but. Mom needs our help. Will you help me?"
We stared at each other a long time, neither of us moving, before he finally nodded and gave Mom a pitying glance before taking the cordless phone and heading out onto the back porch.
I remember comforting Mom, and holding her tightly until Aunt Sharon and Dad arrived, within seconds of one another. After that, the next week was a blur. Lesli was gone, and we couldn't even have a funeral for her because "they" had taken her away. Instead, we arranged for a small memorial service in her honor, and scattered her favorite flowers -- Chrysanthemums -- across the park where we would play as kids. There were also lots of questions, from news crews, the government, and the local law enforcement concerning what happened. Our answers were always the same, no matter what the question.
"What happened to your daughter?"
"We don't know."
"Who could have done this?"
"We don't know."
"Did she see anybody else before she returned home?"
"We don't know."
"How are you going to handle the loss your family has suffered?"
"We don't know."
We moved out of the house and into an apartment across town. None of us could handle living there, after what happened, but neither could Mom and Dad stand to part with our family home. It was more expensive, keeping both properties, and because of that it was suddenly the wake of a tragedy and more important than ever that I find a job.
After a couple of weeks I finally managed to find work stocking shelves for a local convenience store, but I was fired after only a few days for punching a customer for insulting my sister.
"Stupid bitch, thinking that just 'cause she was some kind of superpowered freak she could do whatever she wanted. She deserved to die."
Finally, relief for us came from an unexpected source. I was sitting in our apartment, watching mindless daytime TV, when a knock at the door startled me.
"Who is it?"
"My name is David Stone. I knew your sister."
I was weary of meeting any more so-called friends, more like stalkers, of my sister, but I opened the door, prepared to tell this one off just like I had done to the last dozen or so who came by.
"Listen, you..."
My throat dried up as I looked up and up into the face of the tallest man I had ever seen. He was smiling, but I could see the sadness in his eyes as he looked down at me. He extended his hand towards me, and I wordlessly shook it.
"Can I come in?"
"Huh? Oh!" I shook my head to clear the cobwebs from it as I stepped out of the doorway.
Mr. Stone must have been almost seven feet tall, with a perfectly smooth shaved head and the darkest skin of anyone I had ever seen. As he walked in, I couldn't help but balk at seeing how massive he was. Even in his obviously expensive charcoal grey suit I could see that his arms must have been almost as big around as my depression-shrunk waist, and he moved like he was weary of something attacking from behind every piece of furniture. He carefully lowered himself onto the rickety sofa that had come with the apartment, and I could have swore I heard the seat creak and strain as he sunk down into it.
"Please, sit down," he told me, gesturing to the seat across from him. "I need to speak to you."
"Yes, sir," I said, dropping into the chair. I wondered at why I was listening to him without any questions, but another look at his sheer size reminded me why. "How can I help you?"
He seemed to consider his words for a moment before speaking. "How much do you know, about what your sister did as Switcheroo?"
I shrugged. "I just know that when the last Switcheroo died she somehow inherited her powers."
He nodded. "Did your sister ever tell you about how she received the powers?"
I shook my head. "No, she just said that she was in the right place at the right time."
He nodded again. "I figured as much."
I was confused. "Why are you asking me this?"
"Because I needed to know. Did she mention anything to you about giving the powers to someone else?"
"No, she didn't." I was starting to get tired of his questions, and big or not I knew that if Mom or Dad were to come home and see him here, and he were to ask them, it would only cause them pain. "Is that all, sir?" I asked, hoping he would take the hint.
He sighed, and nodded. "I guess Switcheroo really is gone, then. Thank you for your time." He stood up, and began to walk towards the door, but stopped short of opening it. "Oh, I forgot." He turned around and came back to stand before me. "We have heard about your problems finding a job. We can help you find something, if you want. We always try to make... accommodations, for the families of fallen comrades." With that, he handed me a card, and let himself out the front door.
I stared after him a whole five minutes before finally looking at the card he had handed me.
David Stone
Director of Operations
Mount Drake Special Powered Forces, August Branch
At the bottom was a number with an extension for his office. I just sat there stunned. The MDSPF were the organization responsible for keeping track of all the licensed superpowered people in the United States! That means that he was my sister's boss for all the superhero work she did.
A sudden rush of anger caused me to crumble the card and scowl. Had he been the one who sent her out to die? Was he the reason she got killed? I forced myself to relax. I knew it wasn't his fault, and I had been watching his face. He had obviously been distraught by my sister's death. And besides, why would he help us if he had killed her?
Two hours later, I made my decision and dialed the number.
-
Chapter 2
The New Job
I pulled up outside the building and just sat for a moment, second third and forth thoughts all occupying my head at once. Mom had been livid when I had told her that I was going to work for the same people that she blamed for Lesli's death, while Dad had just given me a tired glance and walked away, just like he had every other time I'd made a decision that disappointed him. Well, tough. Nobody else would hire me, and with everything else we needed the money. I wanted to argue with them that the safest place I could be in the entire world had to be in an armored building surrounded by superheroes, but I knew they wouldn't listen.
I straightened my suit before opening the front doors of the surprisingly nondescript office building and making my way for the empty receptionist's desk. I was searching for a bell, or something to get someone's attention, when a flash of light and a low electronic whirring startled me and caused me to take a step back.
Behind the desk an image began to rez up, until finally there was a pretty young woman sitting at the office chair and smiling at me. The only odd thing about her was that I could see right through her.
"Good morning, Mr. Phelps. It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Dia."
"Uh, hi... Dia."
She laughed, as she tapped away at a keyboard that upon closer inspection was just as transparent as she was. "It's short for Digital Interactive Assistant."
"So you're a computer program?"
Her smile flickered -- literally -- and she rolled her eyes. "I'm a visual representation of the artificial intelligence running the entire facility. 'Brain the size of a planet,' you know how it goes."
I grinned, and nodded.
"And that's why you're here," a familiar voice echoed from behind me. I turned around and watched as a lift descended from the ceiling with a slight 'hiss,' and there stood Mr. Stone in another immaculate suit. "Dia," he said, nodding to the holographic woman behind me with a smile.
"Mr. Stone."
"You're dismissed," he said, and I could have swore I heard a satisfied sigh as the whirring from behind the desk died down. "You, on the other hand," he said, turning to me. "Have a job to do."
It didn't take me long to get into the swing of things, and the job was surprisingly easy. I was to be the front lobby receptionist. I would greet visitors and direct them to their various destinations, and answer the public telephone line. I had been afraid I would be responsible for handling national emergencies and other big cases, but Mr. Stone eased my mind when he told me that they had a separate phone line linked directly into Dia to handle those kinds of calls, and that all I had to do was handle the more mundane situations.
And handle them I did for over two months, directing people from one part of the building to another, talking to the tourists who wanted to know what a superhero's base looked like, and generally being a good little desk monkey. As part of the benefits of working for MDSPF I also had access to the "baseline human" portion of the center's exercise facilities, and I had managed to work myself into better, leaner shape than I had ever been in my entire life despite spending most of my time sitting around and arguing with Dia over why it was a waste of her resources for me to be playing minesweeper on my terminal.
That's probably why the blast wave didn't kill me when it blew up my desk.
In all the movies the explosions are always gigantic, with lots of smoke and fireballs and people flying through the air in slow motion. When the front wall of the office blew in, all I heard was a low thudding tone before the wave of shrapnel caught me and propelled me backwards against the far wall. Somehow I managed to stay conscious, though, and as I watched two figures came in through the hole blown in the front of the building. Both were wearing dark hoodies that extended down across the top halves of their faces with gaps for their eyes and sewn on fingerless gloves, but beyond that there was almost no similarity between the two, one a short, wiry and catlike girl and the other a tall, somewhat heavy man holding what looked like a microphone. They cast their eyes around the office quickly, taking stock of the situation before making their way for the elevator. Neither one said a word.
I knew I had to do something, but what? My panic button was gone with the desk, and though I knew that the automated cutout would have already sent a distress signal, something inside me just wouldn't let it wait until someone else showed up. Whatever they were after, it was apparently important enough to walk right into an entire nest of superheroes to get, and if it was that important then I probably didn't want them having it.
It took a lot of effort to stand up, but afterward a quick check revealed no permanent injuries. After offering a prayer to whatever deity was responsible for THAT little stroke of luck, I stepped carefully through the wreckage and approached the dastardly duo from behind. Without superpowers, I knew that anything I did would have to be sneaky, and it would have to be quick, so without further preamble I sprinted and dove, nailing the short one right in the back.
A half second later I was pinned to the wall, her feet against my throat, and she was standing on her hands, glaring at me while I could only choke and cough.
"Where is Corridor 7?"
"What?"
"Where's Corridor 7 asshole!" She repeated, kicking me in the head for emphasis with one foot while the other kept me pinned.
"Ow! I dunno! Jeez!"
"Leave the Mundane alone," the tall guy said in a voice so deep it put James Earl Jones to shame. "We're here to do a job."
"Pssht, fine," the girl hissed as she released me. I fell to the ground and nearly threw up on myself, but instead a completely different kind of vomit came out.
"So, what, I'm not worth the effort? I could take you both down." Where the hell had that come from?
The small girl had been walking away from me, but spun around with a maniacal grin. "Oh, yeah?" She cackled. "Then take this you stupid shit!."
She swung a spinning kick at me that I was sure would take my head off, but I managed to block it -- and then my claws came out.
Literally.
How exactly does one explain the feeling when your powers first manifest? I suppose it isn't so bad if you're expecting it, but all I remember is this searing pain as it felt like my brain expanded three sizes while my head kept the same shape, and then all of a sudden my vision went completely gray. A look of shock came across the portions of her face that I could see, and I heard a roar as I rose to my feet and leapt at her.
Turned out, it was me. I landed on top of her and raised my paw to rip her throat out. I was in mid-swing when the blast of force knocked me off of her and into the wall again, but this time I hardly felt it. The big guy was standing to one side with his hands cupped in front of his face, and he was humming, or clicking, or something, and every time he made a noise I felt another wave crash into me, keeping me pinned. The girl was approaching me again, with that same terrible grin on her face, and I just knew that this time, I was gonna die.
"Stop!" A raspy male voice I could just make out over the throbbing around me called, but neither the girl nor Tall-guy stopped.
There was a change in the texture of the air, and an incredibly loud "snak," and all of a sudden there was the biggest pistol I had ever seen placed against the girl's temple.
"I said, stop," the man in the gray faceless mask repeated. "What are you two doing here?"
What followed was pure chaos, but I'll try my best to explain it. Tall-guy stopped clicking and humming at me and changed his focus to the guy with the gun, at the same time as the girl did some kind of sideways flip and nailed him in the stomach with her foot while grabbing his gun. I was left free now, though, and the thought of escaping never crossed my mind. Instead, I leapt at Tall-guy, knocking him down. He struggled, so I bit him on the arm, causing him to let out a scream that shook the tiles from the roof and busted what windows were left.
Then I was knocked back for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and by the time I recovered the girl and Tall-guy were already escaping through the big gaping hole in the front of the building.
I paced back and forth, growling in frustration.
"Switcheroo?"
A hand rested on my flank, and I spun around to bite whoever it was, but stopped when I saw it was the man in the gray mask.
"But, I thought..."
"Armory! Report!" Mr. Stone's voice echoed through the now completely trashed lobby. "What happened here?"
"Two supers, undefined powers, blew out the front wall. I came in to stop them, and... Switcheroo?" The gunman, who I now recognized as the hero Armory, said. If it hadn't been for his face mask, I was sure he would have had a confused expression.
Mr. Stone, decked out in his full Martial uniform, turned toward me. At first, I thought he was growing angry, but then an unexpected laugh erupted from him as he fell to his knees. "Well, well, well, it looks like your sister passed her powers on after all!"
Huh? Waiddaminute.... I looked down at myself for the first time. The fur, the huge paws, the tail. Switcheroo's lioness form!
'But how?' I wanted to ask, but all that came out was a feline "growmf?"
Martial laughed again as he approached and scratched behind my ears, which felt surprisingly good. "Come on, I'll explain it all as far as I can tell what's happened. Then we'll get you suited up."
-
"That... sucks."
Mr. Stone seemed happy to have another Switcheroo, but I didn't think that having superpowers was worth losing my sister. The rest of the supers in the room just seemed uncomfortable in general with what had happened, and for good reason -- Switcheroo has always, and I mean ALWAYS, been a girl.
Mr. Stone sighed, and placed one of his platter-sized hands on my shoulder, driving me another couple of inches down into the couch I was sitting on and making the blanket I was wrapped in for decency's sake almost slip off. "I agree with you, son, but once the powers have been passed on they're yours until you pass them on to the next person."
"Well, then why don't we go ahead and do that?"
"Because you can only pass them on when you're about to die."
"Oh."
"Come on, surely there's some way around that!" Armory said, staring at me with anger. Without the featureless helmet on, he was a guy around my own age with shaggy black hair and gray eyes. He stormed towards me, pointing viciously. "He doesn't deserve them!"
"Armory!" Mr. Stone bellowed. "Sit down, NOW." He turned back to me. "There isn't any choice in the matter. What's done is done."
"The backups won't be happy," a woman I had never seen before in a dark colored pant suit said, giving me a once-over before facing Mr. Stone, still wearing his Martial uniform.
"They'll just have to deal with it."
"Backups?" I asked, confused.
Dia appeared before me. "Backups are the common term used for approved candidates for power transferal. All Legacy-class power users are closely monitored, and when it is known that they will be entering a potentially fatal situation or conflict the top candidate for power transferal is located and prepared in case they are needed. The purpose of this is to guarantee that Legacy-class powers are always obtained by individuals with similar personalities and features so that re-manifestation has a minimal affect on them, as well as to guarantee that such powers never fall into the wrong hands."
"... so it's like backup dancers."
Dia's projection nodded. "Except with dorkier costumes," she said with a smirk.
"Which is another issue," another Super, I think her name was Cherrybomb, said. "What are we gonna do about getting him a costume?"
Mr. Stone closed his eyes for a second and sighed. "I'm not sure. We'll have to worry about that later. For now, we need to find out all we can about those two Supers who broke in. Any information yet?"
The woman in the dark suit stepped forward, brandishing some kind of digital display showing images of the two people who had attacked us. "Not much yet, sir, beside names and basic powers. The man is called Beatbox, and he can control sound waves. Specializes in percussive blasts, that type of thing. The girl is called Dervish, and from what the authorities have gathered she's some kind of Super martial artist, a little stronger than she looks but not by much, just fast as hell." She pressed a button on the screen, and a video played of the two of them robbing a bank, the big guy blasting open the safe while the girl did some kind of flip and a spin, leaving all the guards laying on the floor unconscious. "As of yet we haven't determined what they were looking for."
I raised my hand, and Mr. Stone nodded to me. "They said something about a 'Corridor Seven?'"
Mr. Stone looked shocked, while the woman in the dark suit narrowed her eyes and approached me. Before I knew what was happening, she had grabbed me by the throat and lifted me off my seat.
"What did you say about it!"
"N-nothing!" I choked out, my vision blurring. "I'd never heard of it before!"
She released me, and I fell to the floor, coughing. "Good," she said, then walked away, leaving the room.
"Who the hell was that?" I asked, rubbing my throat. What was with people going after my throat?
"That's Weaver, she's our information specialist, and the person responsible for organizing power transferals and backups."
"Weaver?" My brain gave me a jolt. "My sister said something about a Weaver right before she died!"
Mr. Stone nodded. "She probably wanted to get hold of her to find a replacement before it was too late, though how Weaver lost track of her in the first place I have no idea. I told you we keep track of all Legacy-class power users," he said in response to my blank look. "Something happened the day your sister died. She went off our grid, and by the time we managed to track her again, it was already too late. I'm just glad she managed to pass her powers on."
I snorted, trying to cover up the depression that talk of my sister's death caused me to feel. "It's not like it matters, though. Who ever heard of a male Switcheroo anyhow?"
"That is a problem," he admitted. "But, I'm sure we can figure something out."
"Sir," Dia's voice came on over the intercom system, "there's someone here to see you, a Mr. Blade."
"Ah, that would be my five O'Clock. Armory, if you would please show our newest recruit to the fitting room. I think it's time Dia prepped him a costume, no?" With that, Mr. Stone straightened his suit and stepped into the lift, taking it down to the lobby I knew was already in the process of being cleaned up and repaired.
Armory gave me a cold look as he waved toward a door behind him. "Follow me," he said, leading the way further into the base, and to my first real experience as a superhero.
-
Chapter 3
Not Your Average Superhero
"You've got to be kidding me," I said, looking down at myself in the costume Dia had generated.
"What? I kinda like it." Dia pouted indignantly, at least as much as a computer can pout, which given her holographic interface was a good deal.
"Well, I don't." I said, holding my arms out from my body as though I were covered in something nasty and were reluctant to touch it.
I was, on both accounts. A side effect of taking on a role historically filled by a girl was that Switcheroo's classic color scheme and pattern were both much better suited to a member of the finer sex. Call me sexist, but powder pink and cream with orange sherbet detailing are not only horrendously eighties, but probably about as girly as you can get, and the typical layout of said colors was meant to emphasize body parts that, frankly, I simply did not possess.
Though sadly enough, that shortcoming was not as noticable as I had anticipated.
To be clear, I have never been what you would call "built," but I had thought that my constant workouts and increased strength and stamina from the gym would have shown a more masculine physique in the tight spandex outfit. Instead, I looked more like an underdeveloped version of my sister, an even more embarrassing outcome when you consider my being five years older than her.
"Is there a problem?" Mr. Stone's voice asked over the intercom, as the door beeped indicating he was just outside.
"I'm allowed to change the costume, right?"
"Why do you asnnerhrk." Mr. Stone covered his mouth and tried his best to contain his laugh, but soon the rumbling echo of his chortle filled the room.
"I still like it," Dia said, finding no amusement in Mr. Stone's reaction to her costume design. "And with the future possibility of his-"
"That's enough," Mr. Stone said, the smile rapidly disappearing as he gave Dia's projection a smoldering look. "We'll discuss that later, if it becomes an issue."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, looking between the two for any clue as to what might be going on.
"It's nothing to worry about. For the moment," Mr. Stone added, looking up and down my body with a slightly worried expression on his face. "No matter. Dia, work with him to find something that the two of you can agree upon. It's been a while since Switcheroo's look changed much -- I think we can stand to let you rework the outfit," he said, addressing me directly. "Just don't go crazy. We're not the X-men, and this ain't no comic book. There's a lot more to that suit than you might think." With that, he turned around and left again, leaving me to argue with Dia about what to do with the suit.
"Well?"
"Oh, alright," she said. "But I'm keeping this on file just in case."
I sighed, but agreed to the concession.
It took longer than I had expected it to, but eventually we agreed on a look that we both thought worked. The cream became a more subdued off-white, while the orange returned, though toned down a bit. I focused on those two as the primary colors, since Dia absolutely refused to budge when it came to the pink. Instead, I insisted that the pink remain limited to minor trim details, and added a good deal of black hoping to darken the look a bit. The fit and overall build of the suit otherwise remained unchanged, since there was little I could do to it -- it had been designed specifically to allow Switcheroo to shapeshift as efficiently as possible. That was one element I definitely did not want to change, recalling pictures I had seen of Switcheroos from before the shifting material had been invented, clad in little more than scraps of what had been their fighting togs. I did change the print pattern though to something that did less to emphasize my chest and rear, a modification that Dia found far too amusing.
"What? You've got a cute tush, you should work it a bit."
"Not when I'm wearing spandex, thank you very much."
"It's not spandex, it's-"
"I know I know. It's a polymer whatever."
She sighed. "Close enough. So, are you happy now?"
"I guess as much as I can be."
"Good. 'Cause we just got a call I think would be perfect for your first time out."
"What? But I don't even know how to use my powers yet!"
"No time! Suit up!"
"Aww, hell."
Soon I found myself being escorted by Dia down the halls to the elevators, and finally up to the top of the building. As soon as the doors opened I stepped out onto the landing pad, and nearly ran headfirst into the back of the tallest girl I had ever seen.
"Huh? Took you long enough to... who the hell are you?" She asked, sneering as she gave me the once over.
"Uhm, I'm the new Switcheroo?"
Her expression softened a bit, and she shrugged. "Oh, didn't recognize you in the costume. Not as built as the last girl, but you'll do. Come on, we're running late."
"I'm not a girl," I said, as calmly as I could as I followed her to the waiting chopper.
"Whatever. I'm Cherrybomb, and my friend here is Tag," she said, waving to another person who was already waiting for us in the chopper.
"Hi," I said with a small wave, taking a moment to examine their costumes. Cherrybomb's outfit consisted of what looked like a battered white Gi over a pair of black cargo pants and combat boots, with matching white tape wrapped around her forearms and hands except for her fingers and a Ninja Turtles style bandana with eye holes, her flame red mohawk sticking out the top like a beacon. Tag, on the other hand, looked like a Darth Vader wannabe in some kind of breathing mask and a couple of large tanks strapped to her back with nozzles leading down her arms. I only knew Tag was a she from the news stories I had read about her -- looking at her costume, you would never guess.
I looked down at my own costume again and failed to suppress the sigh that welled up. My costume was by far the most feminine in the group. "Dia, I'm going to kill you," I hissed under my breath as the chopper lifted off, taking us who knows where to fight who knows what.
-
"You've got to be fricken' KIDDING me," I said as I looked out the door of the helicopter and saw the pile of wreckage that had once been the Cedar Falls Community Center. "What the hell happened?"
Cherrybomb laughed. "Science experiment gone wrong, apparently. Today was Cedar Falls Elementary's science fair, after all."
I gave her an incredulous look. "You think an elementary student did... THAT?"
She nodded, never losing her manic grin.
"Time's up, kids. Come on," Tag said, jumping out the door of the helicopter.
"Wait, we're not even using parachutes?"
"Nope!"
With that, Cherrybomb shoved me out the door.
The Switcheroo powers are focused around the ability to shapeshift. More accurately, the ability to take on the form of one of five animals, and while the lioness and timberwolf forms are by far the most popular among Switcheroo's fanbase, being the flashiest ones, the other three forms have their own uses.
I am not too proud to admit it. I panicked. Luckily, the air rushing around me carried away the embarrassingly shrill scream I let out as I fell. Unluckily, by the time my new instincts kicked in and shifted me into Switcheroo's -- that is to say, my -- eagle form, it was already too late to completely arrest my momentum. With an almighty squawk I slowed myself just enough to send myself tumbling across the field of rubble, leaving me battered, bruised, and ruffled, but amazingly still alive.
The sound of screams told me there was no time to sit and complain about my fall. Without really thinking about it I shifted into my timberwolf form.
I could smell something... wrong, on the other side of the wall of rubble to my left. I made my way around the pile of broken concrete and bricks, and there was the thing that had caused so much devastation.
It was no eldritch horror, but it was well on its way. Half octopus, half amorphous mass, and half hardware store, the thing was steadily ripping its way out of the containment field of nets and barbs that Tag had erected around it, and seemed to be unconcerned by Cherrybomb's steady bombardment of explosive punches against the metal plate that made up a portion of its head. I growled as I leapt forward and snapped at one of its tentacles, only to be batted away by another tentacle that had finally managed to escape Tag's restraints.
"This... thing's... tougher... than... I... was... expecting!" Cherrybomb said, her speech interrupted by a staccato rhythm of punches.
Tag formed an electric blue spear of whatever it was she formed her powers around and launched it at the creature's eye, where it bounced harmlessly off. "Agreed. Dia?"
"Help is on its way," I heard Dia's voice ring clearly in my head. "Bard's caught in traffic, but he'll be there as soon as he can, and I've got Totem on standby if-"
"Get us Armory, this thing's big."
"Come on, it's a kid's science project, not some kind of nigh indestructible... oh. Never mind. He'll be there as soon as possible."
"Thanks."
While Tag had been talking to Dia, Cherrybomb had continued her mission to brain the octo-bot while I had been looking for an in to bite something.
"Switch, use your bear form!"
Oh, yeah. I thought about the bear form I had seen Switcheroo use on several occasions, and before I knew it there I stood in all my mottled brown and grey glory. Another tentacle lashed at me, but this time taking its hit was much easier with my beefier form. I swung my paws at the tentacle and managed to dig my claws into it, pulling it toward me and ripping into the sensitive underside with my teeth, drawing a rather satisfying shriek from the creature.
"Good one!" Cherrybomb bellowed just as one of her punches finally managed to blast a hole in the plate beneath her, allowing her to reach in and rip out a bundle of wires. The thing shrieked again and then thrashed about wildly, throwing both me and Cherrybomb off, knocking down two of the few walls left standing.
The taste of the ichor in my mouth from the hole I had tore in the thing's tentacle was foul, but I knew that I could not let myself cower away from the fight. I charged across the rubble and made a dive for the still convulsing beast, the tentacle that swung at me missing by a fraction of an inch, then began frantically ripping and biting at the sensitive flesh where the tentacle met the thing's body. There was a hiss, and I felt a burning sensation down my back, but I ignored it as I continued my work to neuter the whatever-it-was before me.
After what felt like ages of clawing and snapping, the tentacle finally separated from the thing's side, drawing another satisfying shriek as the tentacle squirmed across the floor, knocking down anything left standing in its way. With that done, I turned to start in on the next tentacle, only to be grabbed around what served as my waist by another and lifted into the air, where the octoborg glared at me balefully with his real eye while the mechanical one began to glow.
This was it, I just knew it. My first real mission, and I was about to be laser blasted into steaming chunks by a disfigured octopus. I felt sick. I wanted to scream in defiance, to cry in frustration, I wanted to be freed. I squeezed my eyes shut... and felt myself involuntarily begin to shift.
I slipped out of the tentacle and fell to the floor just as the laser blast seared through the spot where I had been. I was human again. I spit out a mouthful of the ichor that I could still taste in my mouth, and was overwhelmed by the sick feeling again. Now that I was freed, though, I fought it back, and dodged the tentacle as it came crashing down to grab me once more.
Using what strength I had left I skittered across the floor for the nearest pile of rubble to hide behind and reassess the situation. Using her strength Cherrybomb was busy merrily ripping through the mixture of wires and entrails she had uncovered beneath the plate, but her efforts seemed to do little more than piss the thing off, while Tag continued to run interference, erecting spikes and nets to keep the thing contained. They were doing well, or at least better than I was, but even a rookie like me could tell that it was only a matter of time before the Icky Ichor Ichythoid wiped the floor with us.
A strange static wave passed over me, and before I knew what was happening Armory had grabbed my hand and helped me up. "Report! What's the situation!"
"Huh? Oh! It's an octopus with a laser beam in it's head, and we're barely touching it."
"Go on."
There was a scream from behind me that definitely did not sound like the creature. "No time, come on!" I said, forcing myself to morph into my lioness form as I turned around and barely managed to leap over the tentacle that whipped past, taking out the pile of rubble I had hidden behind and nearly decapitating Armory in the process.
I looked over at him just long enough to see a massive gun appear in his hands before I leapt back into the fray, digging into the nearest bit of slimy flesh and slashing away with everything at my disposal.
-
"Well?"
"Then he shot the thing and it died."
"That's it?"
"That's it," I agreed, drawing a disappointed look from Dia as she stood up, my tale done.
"But that's lame! No running guns versus laser battle or anything?"
I shook my head. "Nope! He shot it, in the laser eye, and it died. End of story."
"Aww."
"And good riddance, too," I said, finally managing to get the last strip of what was left of my costume loose from the glue-like substance coating me. The death might have been quick, but we had all suffered from the resulting splash. "Now I need a shower."
"Sure thing, right over here," Dia said, disappearing and reappearing near a booth on one side of my private changing room.
Not too long later I was clean and out, belatedly remembering that I had no clothes with me, since my old clothes had been pretty much tatters after the first encounter of the day. Had it really been that short a time ago? It felt like so much longer.
"Dia? Are there any clothes I can wear?"
"I'll send some down from the exercise room."
"Thanks."
There was a quiet "whoosh," followed by a louder "ding" from the direction of a box on one wall of the room, and as I crossed over to check it out a door opened on the front, revealing a pile of clothes. As quickly as I could I donned the grey track pants and hoodie, sparing only a moment's disgust at the large pink and orange team logo and "Switcheroo" displayed on the right breast. I would have to do something about that, but not right now. The shoes, a pair of track shoes also in 'my' uniform colors, were more of a problem for me, but I eventually gave in and wore them as well, surprised at how comfortable everything turned out to be.
"If you're ready, it's time for the debriefing in the board room," I heard Dia's voice ring out from the speakers overhead. I didn't bother to answer her directly, just nodding and heading out the door, then toward the room I had been "debriefed" in just a few hours earlier.
"Glad you could finally make it," Mr. Stone said as I walked through the door, the last member of the team there.
"Sorry, but I had to have a shower and I didn't have any clothes."
"It's okay. Find your seat and let's begin."
"Um, excuse me, but who is this?" A tall black man I had never met asked. He wasn't in uniform, but from association with the team I guessed he was probably Bard, the team's speedster and TK expert. Next to him was the only other member of the team I hadn't met yet, but Totem -- the team spiritual expert -- was hard to miss, with her glowing white eyes.
"Roland, I would like you to meet our newest team member, Louis Phelps. Also known as Switcheroo."
"What? Phelps... wasn't that Lesli's last name too?"
"Louis is her brother. Apparently, she passed the powers to him right before she died."
The look of confusion on Bard's... Roland's face slowly drained away to one of understanding, then amusement, then horror. Before he could ask whatever question had entered his mind, though, Mr. Stone shook his head definitively, stopping him.
What followed was another retelling of all the events of the day, starting with the raid on the office and ending with our return after the Robo-pus was put down. It was finally starting to sink into my own brain just how lucky I had been to survive.
"Sir, surely you can't mean to have him take over the duties as Switcheroo. You know what that would mean."
"Now, Roland, we don't know that--"
"He deserves to know," Totem said, her first words since the meeting had begun.
"Know what?" I asked, glaring at Mr. Stone. I might not have the mental capacity of my sister, but I was no slouch in the brain department, either. I had figured out earlier that he was hiding something from me, and now I was ready for answers.
Mr. Stone stared at me for a moment before rubbing the bridge of his nose and mumbling something that even with my enhanced hearing I couldn't quite make out. "Alright," he said at last, looking up at me again with a resigned expression. "It's possible that the Switcheroo powers could... change your appearance, somewhat."
"How so?"
"Well, a lot of powers come with a physical template, usually based on a rough concept of the original user's physical ideal," Bard said, taking over when Mr. Stone faltered. "Since most powers are linked to the one who manifests them in such a way that they can never be transferred or shared, this is of little concern. However, in the case of Legacy-class powers, or those powers that can be passed on from user to user, these changes can sometimes be life alteringly drastic."
"So you're saying that I'm going to turn into the original Switcheroo's idea of an ideal superhero?"
"In a way, yes," he said, hesitating before continuing. "Part of the reason for our choosing the inheritors of the Switcheroo powers is to minimize the physical and mental effects on the bearer by picking those individuals who already closely fit the ideal, since it has been proven that those who have to make drastic changes often have a harder time dealing with them. We've only had one male Switcheroo before, and he went insane when the physical manifestations began to become obvious."
That was when it clicked. "Physical manifestations." I looked down my body, at my frame that had been slimming down even as it had grown stronger. My long legs. My narrow waist. My hips that now looked broader to my searching eyes than they had before. "Oh, shit." It was a close thing, but I managed to keep from throwing up, and instead asked, "is there any way to stop it?"
Bard shook his head. "At best the change can be slowed by not using the powers. However, I'm afraid that the more you use your Switcheroo abilities, the more quickly the changes will begin to manifest."
"So, I can either use the powers and change quickly, or not use them and change slowly?"
"Well, slower," Mr. Stone said, finally looking me in the face again. "I had Dia take a sample of your DNA during your costume fitting. I was hoping she could find a way to prevent the physical changes, which is also why I summoned Dr. Blade. I was wanting to keep this quiet from you until we had no choice but to tell you," he gave Roland a stare that said "we'll talk about this later."
"But if using the powers makes it happen faster, then why did you send me on the mission earlier today?"
He looked sheepish. "Because, as many resources as we have at our disposal, I was afraid we wouldn't be able to find a way to prevent it, and I wanted to give you a chance to see what being a hero was like without the issue of the change hanging over your head."
I looked around the table, at the people I had already begun to think of as my teammates. Cherrybomb gave me a thumbs up. Tag simply sat there, her mask portraying no emotion whatsoever. Armory no longer looked angry at me, but instead his face held pity, which was in a way worse. Weaver simply ignored me, studying the digipad in her hand while typing furiously on its display. Bard shrugged his shoulders, and Totem...
Totem stood up and circled around the table, resting one of her pale hands on my shoulder. "It will be okay, Louis. We are here for you."
"I need to go home."
"Come. I will take you," she said, helping me up.
-
Chapter 4
For The Greater Good
My mom and dad were pissed about the suit I had been wearing being ruined, especially when I told them about the attack on the base. I chose not to tell them about my new powers, or what was happening to me, though. I was not sure what to think of them yet, myself, and the last thing I needed was their yelling and screaming to make my thinking even harder.
Mr. Stone called later that day and told my mom I had the next two weeks off with pay. She thought it was to make up for being banged about by a supervillain -- which it was, in a way -- but in reality, he was giving me time. Time I needed if I was to decide what to do.
That night, and the next, and the rest of the first week, I got little sleep. Instead, I paced and paced as I thought. For some reason I was finding it easier than usual to face my problems objectively. Then a passing comment from earlier about mental changes popped into my memory, and helped to shatter what little confidence I had been building in myself. Just how much of me was truly ME any more, and how much was Switcheroo? And worse, how much of "me" would be left if I DID embrace the change? Would I lose myself completely? I needed help, some one to turn to.
Someone I could share my secret with.
"Pssst. Lucas."
"Whahrnh?"
"Get up. I need to talk to you."
"Can'wait 'til morn'n?"
"No. Please?"
"...H'kayh."
It was almost twenty minutes before he was up and dressed, and the minute his door swung open I grabbed him and drug him to my own room.
"What's up?" He asked, still somewhat groggy, but more awake now that he had seen the stress on my face, stress I had been working to fight when around him and my parents for the past week.
"Can you keep a secret?"
"Why?"
"I need to know you can keep a secret Lucas, please."
"Alright alright, yeah. Now what's going on?"
I reconsidered for a moment. What if he told our parents? Then I saw the concern in his eyes. I had been the first person in the family Lesli had talked to when she had received the powers. I could trust Lucas like she had trusted me. He was my brother.
"If you're not gonna talk, I'm goin' back to bed."
"Lucas, I'm... I'm Switcheroo."
"And I'm George Clooney. Can I go back to sleep now?"
"No, seriously, Lucas," I said, then concentrated on shifting. It was harder than in the heat of battle, but I managed a fairly smooth transition into my lioness form and back, miraculously avoiding ripping my boxers to shreds in the process. "See?"
His eyes grew wide, and he nodded.
"Please don't tell mom and dad."
He nodded again.
I sighed. Maybe this was a mistake. "Lucas, I need someone to talk to. Can you snap out of it and help me out here?"
With a shake of his head, his eyes returned to normal, and he looked at me seriously. "Alright, what's going on here? Did this happen when Lesli died?"
I nodded, and when he said nothing, I sat down on my bed and began to tell him the entire story, starting with the tingling feeling as I held Lesli when she died, that I now knew was her giving me her powers, and ending with Bard and Mr. Stone's revelations at the debriefing.
I unexpectedly found myself crying as I poured my heart out to him, and uncharacteristically for him, he sat down next to me on the bed and began to pat my back.
"Hey, Lou, it's okay. Man, this is... it's a lot. So you're turning into a girl?"
"I think so. The way they said it it seemed like that was pretty much the case."
"Well that explains a few things," he said, looking down at my skinny, hairless arms and legs and then at my face, which even I had been able to watch transforming day by day in the mirror.
"Don't tell Mom and Dad."
He let out a bark of laughter, but quickly calmed himself. "Like they would believe me. Imagine you as Switcheroo."
I had to laugh too. "I know, right? Lesli was always the responsible one. The good kid, the one they were proud of. Me? I'm just the failure."
"Now look who needs to snap out of it," he said, getting up off the bed and staring at me. "I loved Lesli, she was my sister, but the two of you were so close it wasn't funny. You know something? I never told you this, but when you first left for college, she came into my room that night crying."
I was stunned. "Really?"
He nodded. "You and her were a lot more alike than you might think. Lesli looked up to you. Why do you think she pushed herself so hard? She saw you buckling under the pressure from Mom and Dad, and thought that if she proved herself capable they might lay off you a bit."
"It didn't work."
"And she blamed herself for that. Jeez, Lou," he said, angrily shaking my shoulders. "You're probably the reason she agreed to being Switcheroo in the first place. And now you've got the powers."
"I can never replace her."
He shook his head. "No. But you can prove how much you loved her by doing the right thing."
"Since when did you become so smart?" I asked, smiling up at him.
"Since I watched my big sister die in my brother's arms," he said soberly, making me wince at the pain in his face.
"But I'm afraid of losing who I am."
"You won't. Haven't you listened to me? You and Leslie were more alike than you give yourself credit for. She was stronger, maybe, but she gave you that strength when she gave you the powers."
I thought about what he said, and realized he was right. Suddenly, all the pain I had felt seemed to drain away as I knew what I had to do.
"And one more thing."
"Yeah? Anything," I said, rising and giving him a loving hug.
"Can you set me up with Cherrybomb? Lesli always said 'no' when I asked her."
I shook my head. "I don't think you could handle Cherrybomb. I could always get you put on the Switcheroo waiting list though, if you wanted?"
"NO way," he said, backing up. "Two in the family's enough. Besides, you really shouldn't be walking around without a shirt any more, Lou."
"AND with that, we're done," I said, blushing. "G'night, bro."
"Night."
Finally, for the first time in days, I slept well.
-
END OF ISSUE ZERO
NOTES: Welp, here's the introduction story for my superhero universe. Those who frequent the Whateley forums may notice a handful of characters I originally introduced there, but I've decided to instead use them here.
There will be more of this story. This is one of the two stories I'm spending the most time on right now, with the second book of "Princess For Hire" being the other.
SO. Let me know what you think! Like the universe? Like the characters? Want more background? I've got it all!
Melanie E.
Switcheroo: Issue 1
By Melanie E.
The continuing adventures of Louis Phelps as he learns what being a superhero is all about.
Yes, this time I started with a TG fiction cliche', so sue me.
=====
Chapter 5
All In A Day's Work
I looked in the mirror and sighed.
Dia had greeted me enthusiastically when I had returned to headquarters a week early, but Mr. Stone had been far more sombre. The results had come back from Dr. Blade, and things looked less than stellar for any chance of me retaining my manhood. Apparently the powers had started work on my body the moment I had absorbed them, and while using them did help to speed the transformation somewhat, they would slowly transform me whether I wanted it or not.
I think Mr. Stone was surprised by my acceptance of the facts with little more than a nod. The conversation with Lucas had been what I needed to make a decision, and that decision had been to give the world a Switcheroo regardless of the personal sacrifices I had to make.
Beyond that, I couldn't deny that there was a certain part of me that held a dark fascination with what the transformation would really mean. I had never been what you would call studly to begin with, so pretty much anything the powers did to me would probably be considered a step up, depending on how you defined up. Would I be as pretty as my sister? Probably. She had only had the powers for a few months, so not all the physical changes had finished -- not that they would have been as noticeable on her as on me anyhow.
Which brought me to where I stood now, in front of the mirror with mixed feelings of revulsion and fascination for what I saw before me.
It had been almost two weeks since my return to duty as Switcheroo, this time officially, and in that time I had been involved in several more fights with thugs and criminals around the city. Nothing major, mostly just common thieves, robbers, and crooks, with the occasional low-powered super thrown in for fun, but it had kept me on my toes, and led to my fair share of injuries.
A villain with the name "Refrigerator" doesn't sound all that menacing until you find your feet trapped in a block of ice while he merrily helps himself to the contents of the vaults in the bank you were supposed to protect.
But I digress. With each fight, as I grew more beat-up and damaged, I healed back just a little more feminine than before. It had become almost a soap opera for me, getting up each morning and checking to see what else had changed over the last day or so. Luckily for me my face hadn't changed all that much yet, but on the other hand, I also hadn't had to shave in over a week.
What was the most disturbing, though, were the scars. Any time I would get scraped or cut, they would inevitably be healed by the next morning -- one of the myriad advantages of being a super -- but the skin would always be softer than my normal skin, and usually hairless. As my body grew more and more beat up, these "beauty scars" as I had come to think of them were slowly spreading, almost like they were infecting the skin around them. It was freaky, and the reason I wore long sleeved shirts all the time now.
Of course, things wouldn't be so bad if I could have told my mom and dad about being Switcheroo. It was accepted in the super-community that family were generally exceptions to the ban on sharing your identity, unless there was a major trust issue involved. But really, would YOU want to tell your parents that you had taken up the mantle that had led to your sibling's death? I think not. They already hated it enough that I worked for the MDSPF, and that I was out at all hours of the afternoon and night. The absolute last thing I needed was to have them glaring at me over this, too.
So I hid it the best I could, despite the fact that I knew it wouldn't be all that longer before hiding it would no longer be an option. When that happened, I had been promised by Martial that there would be a place for me at headquarters if I wanted to stay in the barracks, but I still couldn't stand the idea of abandoning my family.
"Hey, you about done in there? I'm dyin' for a piss!"
Lucas dashed in as soon as I opened the door, slamming it fast enough to hit me in my slightly-altered ass on my way out. I ignored it, though, like I did so much else, as I headed for my room to get ready for work in the suit I would be wearing all of maybe an hour for the day.
"Good Morning," Dia greeted me cheerily as I walked through the front doors of the building. I watched her image fuzz and then reconstitute as one of myself just before I entered the elevator and typed in the code to allow me access to the non-public areas of the base.
"So, anything new today?" Dia's voice chimed over the elevator's speaker system.
"Nothing new," I said with a smile, as she huffed in mild frustration. For some reason Dia had taken an interest in my change, and checked with me most days to see what was new. Of course, she always received copies of my medical exams for securing in my file as well, but I think she just liked having someone to talk to who didn't treat her like a computer.
Which reminded me. "Dia?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you go places? I mean, outside the base?"
She was silent for a moment. Even computers with brains the size of planets sometimes need to think. "I can surf the internet, and access computer networks and most places' security systems from there, but I doubt that's what you mean."
Okay, that was a little creepy, but understandable. "So you can't wander the city or anything."
She sighed. "I wish. Just because I started out as a computer doesn't mean I'm not a person, too. I'm an AI, we're just like you, except smarter and with interchangeable parts."
That was what I loved about Dia. Was it possible to be friends with a computer? If so, I would like to think we were on our way.
"Why did you ask?"
"No reason," I said, causing her to huff again. I tried to keep my laugh in check, but it was hard work.
We didn't say another word to one another for the rest of my elevator ride, giving me time to think on the way to change into my Switcheroo costume. I was intercepted before I reached my room, though.
"Hello, Louis," Totem said as she approached me and greeted me with a small hug. While Totem always seemed creepy in the press releases and pictures of her, I had found that if you looked past the pale skin and glowing eyes she was a good, caring person. And a hugger.
"Hi, Jami. What's up?"
"We have an urgent meeting in the briefing room. Come, there is no time to change."
I groaned, the Switcheroo suit being embarrassing but far more comfortable than my stuffy business suit, but followed her without question. When we reached the briefing room, everyone else was already there, sitting at their assigned seats.
"About time," Nate AKA Armory said as we walked through the door. I did my best to ignore him; he had been gruff with me ever since I had joined, and I had only found out a couple of days ago that it was because he had been dating my sister. How was that related? I wasn't too sure, but I was wary of him.
"That's enough," Mr. Stone said, glaring at Nate. "Now that everyone is here we can finally begin." He turned to the wall behind him and pressed a button, making the formerly featureless display light up. "For the last few weeks Weaver, Dia, and I have been working on trying to track down more information on the pair that broke into our base and harassed Louis, trying to figure out who they were working for. Unfortunately, as of yet we have been poorly underinformed, with no way to improve things. Until now."
He reached up and touched one of the icons on the screen, opening what looked like a police file. "This man goes by the code name Horus," he said, pointing at the photograph of a man in his mid-to-late thirties, clean-cut and well dressed, with the appearance of a scholar about him. "He is an information broker who contacted us this morning and said he could help us. We need a group of volunteers to go meet with him."
Weaver stood up, her digital pad crashing to the table. "Why was I not informed of this ahead of time? We cannot go about setting up meetings with these... hooligans, like this! I haven't had time to research him, to compile background information, to--"
"There is no time!" Mr. Stone said in a booming voice, quieting Weaver quickly. "If someone outside the organization knows about Corridor Seven, then it needs to be taken care of immediately."
"Um, excuse me," I butted in, raising my hand, "but I still don't have any clue what this Corridor Seven thing is. Can someone fill me in?"
Bard started to speak, but Mr. Stone waved him off. "Once you have been a member for three months you'll gain access to all of the facility's services, including information on all but the most secret of projects. I'm sorry, but it is part of procedure that I am not allowed to break and ANYONE," he said, glaring around the table, "caught talking about it to someone without clearance is to be dealt with harshly."
The room was silent for a moment. I knew I wasn't the only one who chafed under some of the rules the MDSPF had in place. Finally, though, it was Tag who broke the silence. "How do we know we can trust this Horus? What if it is merely a trap by the enemy to gain more information for themselves?"
Mr Stone nodded. "We can't trust him. On the other hand, he called me on a private line whose number is known only to the other branch heads, managing to somehow get through several levels of security clearance to do so. If he could find that out, then we need to learn how, and we need to do it as quickly as possible. With those kinds of skills, he very likely could know what we need."
"I'm in," Cherrybomb chimed in from across the table from me. "I can be very persuasive." She slammed her fists together, generating a thunderclap from the kinetic impact.
"Me too," Totem added, standing up. Mr. Stone nodded his acceptance of both -- Cherrybomb might be muscle, but Totem was the best negotiator on our team.
What the hey. "I'll go," I said, standing up as well. I received a few surprised looks from the others around the table, since this was the first time I had volunteered for anything beyond basic city patrol, but Totem smiled and gave me a nod.
"Very well. The three of you will do fine as our front team. Armory, I want you to provide them with long-range cover. The rest of you patrol the city within a three mile radius of this location," he said, tapping another icon and bringing up an image of a building and a map of the surrounding area. "Let's go."
With that I was finally free to go change into my costume. However, I was in for a nasty surprise when the chute opened up.
"Dia, this isn't my costume."
"Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't locate the file for the new appearance options in my systems."
I sighed. "Is this because of earlier?"
"...maybe."
"Come on, Dia."
"Oh, alright." The chute clunked again as a new, far more acceptable uniform fell into it. "But I still think the old design was better."
I didn't say anything else as I donned my suit and made my way for the helipad.
-
Chapter 6
Intelligence Failure
I watched Cherrybomb carefully as we approached our designated landing zone, just in case she should decide to try pushing me out again. Not that I was nervous at all.
"You're shaking."
Okay, maybe a little.
The entire ride over, Cherrybomb and I had watched silently as Totem used her powers to prepare herself for the coming meeting. Unlike most of us on the team, Totem's abilities weren't some kind of superpower or mutation. Instead, her abilities came from years of training as a spiritualist for her tribe. As far as I knew she had never actually told anyone what Native American tribe she was actually from, but they apparently had kickass supernatural powers, because her ability to communicate with and summon spirits made her a formidable member of the team.
It was kind of creepy, watching her stare across the bay with her blank, empty eyes as the electic blue mist-like forms of the spirits she was talking to zipped around and through her. Every time they passed through her she would spasm, as though being shocked, and I couldn't help but imagine how much it must hurt her to do what she did.
We were already descending when the spirits finally disappeared, and Totem -- I couldn't call her Jami when she was like this -- looked at us wearily.
"Does it hurt?" I asked before I could stop myself.
She gave me a weak smile. "Not really, but it is uncomfortable. In exchange for their service, I must give the spirits a small piece of my own life force. I will recover soon."
"So what did you find?" Cherrybomb asked, bouncing in her seat.
Totem grimaced. "Not much. This man calling himself Horus is a mystery even to my spiritual companions. This is odd as those with superpowers usually attract spirits very easily. Even knowing where he is supposed to meet with us, I am unable to find any spirits that know of him."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure what it means. Perhaps he does not have any powers, and since I am tuning my search to feel for those who do I cannot find him. Or perhaps..."
"What?" I asked, when she stopped.
"It is unlikely, but perhaps he is not human."
"We're here, let's go," Cherrybomb said, interrupting us. Sure enough, the blades of the helicopter were winding down as we settled into the gravelly yard of the old water treatment plant.
Why had he chosen to meet with us here? The place had not been used for over twenty years, and now was little more than a collection of rusted buildings and old concrete pipes. I remember as a kid hearing about a gang that had used the pipes as a hiding spot for stashes of drugs until one of the superheroes of the time, I think his name was Dogstar, found out and busted their operation. Since then, nobody had really talked about the place much.
Totem led our little group as we wound our way around the decrepit structures of the plant, occasionally reaching out a hand where a spirit would briefly manifest then float away. Meanwhile, I scanned the area with my enhanced vision -- another big thank-you to the Switcheroo powers for that -- while Cherrybomb, as the only one of us who couldn't see well in the darkness around us, watched our backs for any potential sneak attacks.
It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but we made it to the basin where he had told us to meet him without running into any trouble. There, squatted down next to one of the supports, was a man almost identical to the one from the photograph Mr. Stone had shown us at the meeting, with the exception of a pair of strange glasses on his face. He stood as we approached him and spread his arms wide.
"As you can see, I am unarmed. There is no reason to be so wary, my friends. I am Horus, the keeper of wisdom, and you should fear no harm from me."
He had a strange way of speaking, but Totem's nod was enough to convince me to release some of the tension I hadn't realized I had been holding in. I relayed her message to Cherrybomb with a quick nod of my own, and the three of us approached the man as relaxed as we could be, which wasn't very.
The man clapped his hands as we came closer. "Totem and Cherrybomb, August Branch's Good Cop Bad Cop team, eh? And if it isn't our newest Switcheroo along for the ride. Have you discovered who murdered your sister yet? By your expression I would guess not."
"What do you know!" I yelled, feeling the fur bristle along my back as I involuntarily began to change. His oh-so-casual mention of my sister's death had brought my anger and pain to the surface far more quickly than I could have anticipated.
"Easy, easy," he said, raising his hands but still not losing his infuriating smile. "It is related to the mission at hand, and solving one will give you answers you need in seeking the other. Like a great game of Go, where only one piece must be placed to leave the opponent's carefully laid strategy in ruins. You could be that piece, Louis. Or perhaps not."
Totem stepped in before I could tackle the man, rubbing the back of my head gently. I hadn't realized how close I had been to transforming until I heard myself begin to purr at her stroking, and quickly regained control of myself.
"What information do you have for us concerning the intruders who attacked our base?"
"As, straight to the point as always, my priestess. Yes. The ones known as Beatbox and Dervish attacked you, but it was not their desires that led to their actions. To find the one responsible, you need only look beneath the rug, where all the dirt is swept. But I have said too much, and until I am paid I shall speak no more."
Cherrybomb stepped forward. "Paid? Nobody mentioned anything about paying you, twerp."
The man chuckled, steepling his fingers before his nose. "Maybe not, but nevertheless such an exchange must take place before I will share any more of my information with you."
"How much will it take?" Totem asked, waving Cherrybomb down.
The man paced for a moment, looking down as though in thought. "Not how much, but what, is the question. There is an item that you must obtain for me, and in exchange the information is yours. Of course, I could always retrieve the item myself, but it is always so much more... entertaining, to send another to do the work for me. It will give you a chance to prove yourselves worthy, as you so wish to do, right, Louis?"
I growled again, but managed to calm down on my own. Instead, I did my best to ignore him and scanned the area around us for trouble.
"What is it you want us to retrieve?"
The man smiled again, showing his teeth, and I couldn't help but shudder at the image.
-
To be continued
NOTES:
Sorry for the crappy image, it's the best I could do at work without a reference (and 4 AM to boot :P) That should give you a rough idea of what the original idea that Louis hated so much looked like, though. I'm working on a badly-colored version for the next posting, so we'll see how that goes.
So, what do people think so far? Ideas, questions, concerns? Lay it on me!
Melanie E.
Switcheroo: Issue 2
By Melanie E.
Horus's information provides Louis and the rest of the team with an unexpected answer to several questions at once.
---
Chapter 7
The Raid
"Are you sure we should be doing this?"
"No," Totem said, grimacing.
"Good. Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page here."
I shifted into my lioness form as we crossed the ground between the outer fence and the only building for miles about. Why were there no guards? And what was this place anyhow?
"I still don't know why we didn't ask Weaver for intel on this place before doing this," I heard Cherrybomb mumble from behind me as I scouted ahead, using my improved night vision to scan the area ahead of us for any possible ambushes or traps. So far I had come up empty handed.
"We didn't have the time to ask. We need whatever information it is he has too desperately to delay our actions." Totem seemed to have no trouble making her way through the near pitch-black grounds, using her spirit companions to provide Cherrybomb with a modicum of light to find her way by. "And I have been receiving mixed signals from Weaver as of late. She has always been very guarded around us, me in particular, but she seems... desperate, almost. And very very irritable. I do not know, perhaps it is simply anxiety over having lost track of Lesli, and I'm sure this Corridor Seven business is not helping, but there's something about her that--"
Her words were cut short by the snap of a spotlight popping on, the focus of its beam mere yards ahead of us. With a growl I lept into the air and felt myself morph into my eagle form. Flapping my wings to gain altitude, it was harder to see in the dark with my new telescopic vision, but once I had gained enough height the lights along the edge of the building revealed what I needed.
Twelve guards, two patrolling each edge of the roof with the last two standing guard at the helipad. As I watched, another spotlight came on in the center of each of the other three walls, and all four began to slowly scan across the surface of the ground. Another sound came to my attention as well -- the unmistakable whine of a helicopter approaching.
Spreading my wings wide, I caught an updraft and silently surveilled the guards more closely. Each one was wearing light body armor, with basic sidearms, and no identifiable security company insignia. So, not your average rent-a-cops, then. One of the guards at the helipad seemed to have something else as well, what looked like some kind of digital tablet he was tapping away at. None of them seemed to be aware of our presence, though, so reassured I gently spiralled my way back down to a few yards behind where I last recalled Totem and Cherrybomb being, switching back to my lioness to track them down.
"There you are, what's up?" Cherrybomb asked in a harsh whisper as I slunk up to their position.
Once reunited with them, I changed back to my own form, shaking myself a bit to knock off the uncomfortable feeling I always get after several quick changes. "There's fourteen guards on the roof, but they haven't seen us yet. There's also a helicopter on the way I think, so maybe they're just getting ready for an inspection or something."
"Or to move something. We don't have much time." Totem rubbed her temples, her eyes shut. "Whatever it is, I'm betting they know someone's after it."
I nodded.
"Welp, no time like the present!" Cherrybomb said, standing up and starting to stretch.
"Not so fast, Jacinda. We need to do this carefully."
"Jacinda?" I gave Cherrybomb a disbelieving look. "Your name is Jacinda?"
"Give it a rest, alright? So what's the plan, then?"
Totem closed her eyes, and I watched as more of her spirits passed through her. She looked tired when her eyes finally opened again, but determined. "They are preparing a container in the storage room closest to us for transport up to the roof," she said, pointing at an area of the wall ahead of us. "The only way into the facility is through the gates at the front or the windows, but we don't have time for the first and the second all grant access to the second floor only. By the time we could get to the bottom, it would be too late."
"Leave the entrance to me," Cherrybomb said, thankfully refraining from her standard thunder-fist punctuation to such phrases.
Totem shrugged. "Guess the subtle approach is ruled out, anyhow. Switch, did you manage to find out who the guys up top work for?"
I shook my head. "No idea. They didn't have anything identifying them on their uniforms. One of them had some kind of datapad, I think he might have been in charge but I really don't know."
"Great," she said sarcastically. "Alright, then, we'll just have to hope that Stone can be prevented from blowing a gasket should this be a government installation or, worse, some supervillain's hideout."
"You're kidding, right?" I scoffed. "Things can't be that cliche."
Even with her pure white eyes, I could see the disbelief on her face. "You are standing here dressed in what amounts to fancy spandex, work out of a headquarters for superheroes, and are friends with a computer."
She had a point. "So when do we make our move?"
It was at that moment that the spotlight locked onto us, and almost instantly the whine of a siren began.
"Oh, I think about now's a good time."
-
As soon as the crater left by Cherrybomb's blow cleared of smoke, I leapt through and into the warehouse, my paws silent and stable upon the rubble. One of Totem's many spirits spun off through the air ahead of me, and I followed it without waiting for the others, knowing they could handle themselves.
The place was like a maze, boxes and crates turning the vast open floor space into a series of corridors and alleyways, some tight even for my wolf form. I kept focused on the spirit, following its lead through the clutter, until we came upon a clearing. One side was a concrete wall with a large industrial elevator in the center, and two men grumbling as they stumbled their way toward it, each holding a square metal case in their hands. We had already been spotted, and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before whoever we were annoying at the moment had their security forces on us, so I made my move, padding silently across the space between us until I knew I was close enough.
I let out a piercing howl, causing the man only a couple of feet in front of me to scream as he leapt in terror, dropping his crate on one of his own feet. I used his injury as a distraction and leapt, bringing him to the floor with a satisfying 'conk' as his head met the concrete. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost consciousness, and now I was free to take care of my other opponent.
I turned in time to see him drop his own case and draw a gun, pointing it directly at me.
"Don't come any closer!"
I could see the fear in his eyes as his finger slowly tightened on the trigger suddenly disappear as one of Totem's spirits drifted through the side of his head. In its place was a blank expression as he redirected the pistol above me and fired, elliciting a gurgle from a member of their team I had apparently missed. As the spirit swept its way back out of his head, he crumpled to the ground unconscious as well.
"Aww, I missed all the fun!" Cherrybomb moaned as she climbed over a stack of crates and dropped down beside me. "These boxes the things we're after?"
"You two grab them, I will take care of anyone in our way," Totem said even as I shifted into my own form and took the nearest metal box. I looked at the two men on the ground, relieved to see that both appeared to be still breathing, but I didn't have the courage to check on the one that had been shot. "This way!" Totem yelled, following another set of winding paths through the boxes.
-
Chapter 8
The Reveal
We returned to the water treatment plant to find Horus standing in the exact same place we had left him just over four hours before. He smiled as we approached, and I felt myself involuntarily shudder.
"Ah, yes, I see you have retrieved my packages for me. Well done."
Cherrybomb and I dropped our cases in front of him then stepped back next to Totem, who was staring at the cases warily.
"What's the matter?"
"I can't see what's inside."
"Of course you can't," Horus said as he crouched beside the cases and pulled a metal cylinder from his pocket, running it over the top of each. "They are lead lined, a material even your spirits cannot penetrate. I could not have you spoiling the surprise." As the cases slid open, he reached in and took a glass from one and a bottle from the other. Popping the cap, he filled the glass, then reached into the first case and pulled out a hand full of ice cubes and added them to the drink. "A fine scotch is quite a treasure, is it not?"
"You had us go through all that for BOOZE?"
"Well it would not have been much of a test had I not," he said, sipping his drink. "I do hope you did not hurt too many of my boys in acquiring the prize, but no matter. You have proven most entertaining, and so I shall share with you what information I have." This time he reached back into the case that had contained the drink and removed a black, metal box. "This hard drive should have everything you need. And I would not waste my time scanning it for fingerprints, should you wish for more information on me."
"Why not?"
"I don't have any. Now if you will excuse me, I must be going," he said. With a nod, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows while we were all too stunned to react.
Totem studied the black box, a cheap external hard drive in a shock-proofed case, while I examined the cases. There was no obvious way of opening them, so I assumed the black cylinder he had must have been involved somehow. I checked the label on the scotch, and let out a soft "oof" of appreciation. "Fine" was an understatement -- the stuff in the bottle went for around two hundred dollars for a sixteen ounce bottle. Beyond that, and a handful of extra ice cubes, the cases were filled with nothing but packing foam.
"Come on, guys, let's get this to Stone."
-
Mr. Stone's face was a mask of anger as we watched the content of the hard drive streaming across the screen before us. Page after page of documents, hour after hour of video and audio surveillance from places a character like Horus should never have been able to gain access, and all the evidence adding up to one person.
"Dia."
"Yes, sir?"
"Call a meeting of the entire team immediately."
"I'm on it, sir."
I made myself as small as possible as Mr. Stone stomped through his office, seething. I had been allowed to stay and view the evidence because of my inclusion in the team sent to retrieve it, an honor I was now wishing I had never had. I had wanted to find my sister's killer, but not like this.
It was less than an hour after the meeting was called that everyone from the team was gathered in the meeting room, silent as they looked upon Stone's rage-filled countenance. For the first time, I could see why criminals still cowered when "Martial" was mentioned, even though he rarely went out in uniform any more.
"Today we are gathered to review the information gathered in our recent covert mission to contact this 'Horus' character. I must say, what he has provided us with has proven most... enlightening. Dia, would you please load the files that I indicated to you earlier?"
"Sure thing."
On screen appeared several pages of documents concerning a criminal organization that had recently began operating in the local area, including police reports linked to their hits and heists as well as profiles of several of the members. Next were personal correspondences between members of the group and an individual whose name was replaced with a black line -- a black line that had not been there when we had viewed the documents earlier. More and more information was streamed to the screen, but none of it the most incriminating of what we found.
"Any questions so far?"
Armory stood up. "Yeah, when are we gonna hit these bastards?"
Stone shook his head. "When the time is right. There are other issues we have to take care of first. Anything else?"
Weaver stood next, her face pale. "Yes. Why was I not called to review this information first? I can't make adequate threat assessments on missions if I don't have all the information!"
"We'll cover that in a moment, in a private session. Everyone else is dismissed. Weaver, stay here."
Weaver remained where she stood as everyone except for Mr. Stone, Totem, Cherrybomb, and I left the room. As soon as they were gone, Mr. Stone pressed a button on the wall behind him, and I heard a distinct "Snikt" as the bolts in the door slid into place, sealing the room.
"Jacinda, if you would."
"Absolutely," Cherrybomb said as she stepped over to Weaver and grabbed her arms, twisting them behind her back.
"What? What are you doing!" Weaver asked, her face twisting with anger. "Let me go now!"
"Now I'm going to ask this once and once only," Mr. Stone said, stepping toward Weaver with murder in his eyes. "Why."
She glared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
I had seen video footage of Martial fighting criminals and other supers in old news footage, but it was nothing like seeing him do it in real life. I'd always assumed the meaty 'smack' you hear in movies was fake, but the sound filled the room as his fist connected with the side of Weaver's jaw, nearly knocking her out of Cherrybomb's grasp.
I would have expected her to be knocked out, super or no, but instead I heard a wet, nasal croaking. It was her laughing.
I heard the sound of rushing wind, but turned too late to avoid the impact of the punch as a gigantic woman slammed her fist into my stomach. I felt myself fly through the air and impact the wall, watching with blurred vision as Collision Course, one of the city's best known supervillains, stepped out of some kind of whirling vortex into the room, followed by a small group of black armored thugs. With one hand she grabbed the meeting table and flipped it, throwing it into a surprised Martial and Cherrybomb as Weaver ducked beneath, taking advantage of their surprise to run over to the portal, where I could see Totem fighting uselessly against a pair of the thugs holding her against the wall.
Normally, this would be the point in the comics and cartoons where the villain turns to the hero and monologues about their plans, explaining everything and giving the hero the chance they need to stop them. Instead, as the base's alarms began to sound and I heard the doors snap open, the rest of the team just outside, Weaver turned to me with an evil smile on her face, took a pistol from one of her lackeys, and shot me in the head.
-
TO BE CONTINUED...
NOTES: I'm not going to end these with my Princess For Hire "If you comment, more will come" ending, but I would appreciate input on how people feel about the story. So far the response has been great! Please, keep it up, it helps to keep me inspired, and writing all my stories!
Melanie E.
Switcheroo Issue 3
By Melanie E.
Louis wakes up to find his whole world has changed, again.
---
Chapter 9
Prehistory
I stood at the front of the classroom, nervously clutching my report in my hands as I waited my turn to give my presentation. I was next to last in line to speak, and I stared out at the rest of the class who had already finished, wondering what they were thinking and hoping that nobody would laugh at me.
"...And that is why I want to be a doctor when I grow up."
Everybody clapped as Lillian finished her report and returned to her seat, happy with her reception.
"Louis Phelps, it is your turn. Please take the podium."
I felt the sweat begin to pour as I crossed the short distance to the worn-out podium at the front of the room. My hands shook as I placed my report before me on the stand and cast my eyes around the room. Mrs. Hanson's fourth grade class stared back at me, most of them disinterestedly, but a few sniggered as they noticed my discomfort.
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I didn't need to open the report to give my presentation -- I already had it memorized.
As clearly as I could, I said, "When I grow up, I want to be a superhero."
-
"There's a lot of blood, doctor."
"I know. It's bad, he's lucky the bullet bounced off his skull, but even with that a shot like he took would have killed most people, regenerative capabilities or not."
The pain in my head was tremendous, even trying to open my eyes sending tendrils of electricity shooting through me.
"Doctor, he's trying to wake up!"
"Damn! He's developing a tolerance to the anesthesia faster than I expected. Nurse, increase the dose to..."
-
I heard my mom shriek in terror as the building before us began to shudder, windows breaking and cars slamming into one another, but I could only watch raptly as the hero Warhammer brought his namesake down in an arc, generating one of his trademark waves of force that pushed the falling rubble back and away from the civilians surrounding him, cowering in terror. Efreet was getting away, but Warhammer had no choice -- it was either save the civilians, or catch the enemy.
"Louis, get back here! It's not safe to be that close!"
I ignored her warning, too fascinated by watching Warhammer using his powers to control the building's collapse, directing wave after wave of force with his hammer to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.
I might have only been fourteen, but there was nothing I wouldn't do for the chance to be a hero.
-
The incessant beeping was the first thing to penetrate my consciousness, followed shortly by the feeling of pressure on my head. I groaned as I tried to feel what was pressing on me, only to follow it up with a hiss as I felt the needles pulling on my hand.
"Shhh, don't try to move. You're going to be fine. The doctors managed to get all the fragments out of your face and repair most of the damage, but you're still pretty chewed up."
I recognized that voice. "Dia?"
"It's okay. I'll summon a nurse if you want, or I can administer some painkillers myself since the medical systems are part of my network. Is there anything you need?"
"Sleep," I mumbled as I felt myself slip back into unconsciousness.
-
I fought back the tears, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they had hurt me. Not that they could see me, up in my room away from them all, but the red eyes would be a dead giveaway when I had to go back down later, and only add fuel to their anger.
I ignored the knocking at my door the first and second times she came by, but the third time I finally gave in. "Come in."
Lesli opened the door slowly, like she was worried I would lash out at her when she came in. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I said, not bothering to turn over to look at the door, or her. I didn't want to move from my spot on my bed, and the wall was much safer to stare at.
"I'm sorry Mom and Dad are mad at you." When I said nothing, she continued. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Be stupider," I wanted to say to her, but I knew it wasn't her fault. "Nothing," I said instead, still not turning over.
"Alright, I'll leave you alone, then." I could hear the disappointment in her voice, but if I looked at her I would cry, and I couldn't allow that. I heard her move something on my desk, and then the door closing as she left.
Once she was gone, I forced myself to sit up. On my desk was a box wrapped in newspaper, with a note that said "From Lesli." At first I refused to open it, but it wasn't long before my curiosity got the better of me and I carefully undid the paper.
Inside was an Iron Maiden tee shirt. No, not the band, the heroine, standing strong and proud with the MDSPF logo behind her in crimson, and across the bottom her signature in permanent marker. It was the tee shirt that Lesli had won in the scholarship speech contest, the same contest my mom and dad had been pressuring me to enter. I had refused, public speaking still scaring the living daylights out of me, but Lesli had had no such problem. Besides being presented with the scholarship by Iron Maiden herself, Lesli had also been given the tee shirt I now held.
When Mom and Dad had found out Lesli had won, they were ecstatic, showering praise on her. When they were done, though, is when they had turned on me, berating me for not entering and going on about how I would never make anything of my life if I didn't apply myself like Lesli did. Perfect little Lesli.
Yet I couldn't be mad at her. After all, I had helped her write the speech that had won the scholarship for her, not that my mom or dad wanted to hear that. Lesli was a great little sister, they were the ones with the problem.
I looked down at the tee shirt in my hands again, and something inside finally snapped, the tears that had been fighting their way to the surface falling freely.
-
"Come on, sleepyhead, time to get up."
The light stung as I eased my eyes open, the bright reflective white of the walls and ceiling only making the effect that much worse. Finally, after what felt like ages, my eyes began to adjust, at the same time as what had happened came rushing back.
"So, Doc, will I ever be able to model again?"
"You always had a face made for radio, so anything would be an improvement I'd think," Dia said, a teasing tone in her voice.
"Dia, now's not the time," I heard Mr. Stone say as his face swam into view above me. "We were worried about you."
I smiled. "Thanks. So what's the damage?"
"It's not too bad. Since you're still undergoing the body changes associated with acquiring your powers Doctor Blade said he doubts it will even scar, though you might not like some of the side effects much."
I sighed. "Can I see?"
"Do you think you can stand up?" He asked.
I gave my arms and legs an experimental flex, and nodded. "I think so."
He held out his hand, and using it I pulled myself into a sitting position, taking a break to let the momentary dizziness pass before swinging my legs off the bed and standing up with surprisingly little trouble.
"So how long was I out?"
Mr. Stone grimaced. "Almost a week."
"A WEEK!"
He nodded. "For a face wound like you had? Even for a Superhuman, a week is amazing recovery time. All the Switcheroos have always had good regenerative powers, but it seems that the extended time it is taking your body to adapt has given yours an extra boost."
I felt a twinge as my dreams, memories of past times, came back to the forefront of my mind. "Lesli must have been... really badly hurt, to have died, wasn't she?"
Mr. Stone hesitated before answering, staring at the floor, but when he looked up into my eyes I could see legitimate sorrow there. "I didn't want to tell you before, but now that we have found out Weaver was responsible there's no reason not to. I managed to track down your sister's autopsy reports -- please, don't ask how since I can't tell you, and even I'm not supposed to have that level of government clearance. Beyond her injuries, she had also been poisoned. One or the other she could have survived, but the two combined was too much for her regenerative powers to handle. The particular poison involved was specifically engineered to counter her immune system, indicating to us that someone on the inside had been involved for the enemy to be able to get that kind of information. I swear to you, we had no idea it was Weaver until you brought in the hard drive though."
I looked at Mr. Stone, and for the first time I realized how old he truly was. Mr. Stone, as the hero Martial, had been in the business since the early seventies, and had taken over as the director of the local MDSPF almost twenty years ago. Despite that, under the years of bureaucracy and working with the system there still beat the heart of the hero he had been, and I could see how much his impotence was hurting him.
I led the way to the small bathroom in my hospital room, clutching my robe closed behind me as I walked. Just walking told me a number of things about what changes had occurred, but I tried to ignore them until I had a chance to see it all at once.
Looking in the floor-length mirror in the bathroom, though, what I saw was more of a shock than I had expected.
"My god...."
-
Chapter 10
No Going Home
I knocked on the door for a second time, hoping someone would answer soon. It was an uncomfortable feeling, standing outside my own front door waiting for what I knew would be a train wreck of a meeting, but I had no choice. Not after what I had gone through.
This superhero stuff could be a real bitch.
"Coming," I heard my mom yell through the door as I prepared to knock again, only to have the door swung open seconds later. "What do you..."
I looked down at the shock and pain on my mom's face and felt something twist inside me. I fought it down, though, and looked her in the eyes. "I just came to let you know I was alive."
"Lesli?"
I sighed. "No, Mom, it's me, Louis."
She looked between me and Mr. Stone, her eyes registering confusion. "We were told there was an accident at work, you were alive but they wouldn't let us see you... what's going on?"
"Mom, it's hard to explain. Can we come in?"
"Honey, who's here?" My dad called, walking into the room even as Mom waved us to the couch.
My parents settled into the two seats across from the couch while Mr. Stone and I sat side by side. I placed as little weight on the couch as I could, still afraid that its creaking under Mr. Stone was a sign of imminent collapse.
"Louis, what happened to you?"
I looked at the ground. I couldn't stand to see the pain on my mom's face any more. "Mom, you remember when we were holding Lesli? The day she... the day she died?" I looked up to see her nodding wordlessly. "I didn't know it at the time, but when she died she gave me her powers."
"What do you mean?"
"Mom. Dad. I'm the new Switcheroo."
Neither one of them said a word for what felt like forever, but when one of them finally came around it was my father, who burst into derisive laughter. "You can't be serious? Switcheroo's always a girl, I don't think a guy can even have the powers. Not that looking at you you'd be able to tell."
I looked up into his glaring face, and something in me snapped. "Well you're right about that, Dad. The powers are changing me so I look more like the Switcheroos who came before me. That's the trade off, that to be able to use the powers I've gotta be a girl." I could hear my voice rising, partially in anger and partially to be heard over my mother's mounting sobs, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. "It's not like I asked for this, alright?"
I wanted to feel sorry for my parents, but seeing them like this, my father growing red-faced with anger while my mother cried, not for me, but for the loss of her daughter, I felt nothing but outrage. When my mother would look at me, I could see the blame in her eyes. I had Lesli's powers. By taking them, I had condemned her daughter to death. I knew it was a lie, but I also knew there was no way I would ever convince her otherwise.
No tears fell from my eyes as I stood up, and while trying to ignore the shouts from my father walked to my room to gather the few things I wanted to take with me.
"--ungrateful little bastard, after all we've done for you. How DARE you come into my house looking like some sissy and tell us you're a superhero? You were never the person Lesli was, and now--"
I spun around and roared, stopping my father in his tracks. "You're RIGHT, Dad, I was never the person Lesli was. I was ME! And you two hated me. I loved Lesli, but from the moment she was able to talk all I ever got from you two was lecturing on why she was better than me. You know what? I just woke up from being shot in the HEAD, and you don't even ask if I'm alright? Fuck you."
It only took me a few moments to load a duffel bag with the things I wanted to take with me, mostly photographs and a few mementos. I left all of my old clothes -- none of it would fit me for much longer anyhow, but that was something I didn't want to think about at the moment. With that bag over one shoulder and my laptop case over the other, I scribbled a quick note for Lucas and slid it under his door before trudging back through the living room and out the door, Mr. Stone close behind me.
We were halfway down the stares before either of us said a word.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Stone said, resting his hand on my shoulder. The force caused me to have to lock my knees just to keep from collapsing.
"Fuck them. I've dealt with that shit all my life, I'm sure as hell not putting up with it now."
"Maybe they'll come around eventually, give them time."
I shook my head. "No. Lucas knows how to get in contact with me, if they want to apologize they can do it through him. But I'm not going to be the one who makes the effort to fix this. They're the ones with the problem, not me, so they're the ones who will have to change."
Mr. Stone smiled as he looked down at me. "You really are more like your sister than you think. She could be just as bull-headed when she believed in something."
"Yeah, well, Lesli was special. My parents were right about one thing, I'll never be able to live up to her as Switcheroo, but I'm damned sure going to do my best."
He nodded, still smiling. "And you'll do fine. Come on, I called ahead while you were packing to make sure Dia had your room set up before we got back. I had been hoping we wouldn't have to use it."
I shrugged the duffel and laptop into better positions on my shoulders and continued my way down, fighting back my tears the best I could. "Honestly? So was I."
-
TO BE CONTINUED
NOTES: Sorry this one took so long to get out! I'll try to have the next chapter up sooner, and I promise it'll be back to action and adventure and hitting things :P
No, Louis and Mr. Stone don't mention any specifics about where his appearance is at at the moment. Yes, it will be covered in the next issue. Thank you.
Switcheroo
Issue Four
By Melanie E.
-----
Chapter 11
Changes
My eyes stung from the sweat streaming down my face, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. One, two, one, two, punch, kick, punch, punch, groin shot, roundhouse, repeat. The workout helped to take my mind off of my situation, as well as burn off some of my excess energy -- something that I seemed to have in spades, now that my transformation was slowing down.
I heard the door buzz, indicating someone else had entered the base's training facilities, but I ignored it as I continued administering my beating to the punching bag before me, fighting the urge to morph into my bear or lioness form and tear the thing to shreds.
Unfortunately my peace wasn't to last, as Roland circled around behind the bag and braced it against my strikes.
"How's the training going?"
"Good. Getting better control. Less tired after changing." I punctuated my short sentences with strikes to the bag, seeing how far I could slide him. Being a super, he was quite stout, and my shots to the bag barely caused any visible reaction.
"And the changes?"
I shot him a glare. "Don't wanna talk about it. Maybe later." Punch, kick, punch.
Roland was one of the three members of the team I had gotten to know the least. Nate -- Armory -- avoided me because of his relationship with my sister, though I'd be damned if I knew why that mattered, and Tag, well, nobody really knew all that much about her. Roland, on the other hand, just never seemed to be around. As Bard, he was known for his mysterious vanishing and reappearing act, as well as his showmanship, but as a person all I had been able to tell about him so far was that he was really into folklore, and had an on-again off-again relationship going with Jami that seemed like a match made in spooky heaven.
"You've been in here for four hours."
"I know."
"Stone's getting worried."
"I'm fine."
"So's Jami," he said with a significant look.
"I'm fine. Really."
He nodded, and held the bag in silence for a few minutes.
"Is this about the bra thing?"
That stopped me cold.
"Well?"
"No."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Shut up."
The punching bag didn't hold any interest for me any more, and I was sure he would follow me no matter what piece of equipment I moved on to, so I decided to take advantage of his presence and headed for the free weights in the corner of the room. I was up to two hundred pounds, which was damn good for my size, but I was finding myself having to work harder at it than ever before.
"Spot me."
"No."
I shrugged. "Suit yourself." I bent down to pick up the weight, only to find him standing before me, his foot holding the barbell in place. I gave him a cold stare. "Move it or lose it."
"You won't hurt a team mate. That's not like you."
"How would you know? This is the most you've spoken to me since I started here."
"Jami likes you. She doesn't like assholes."
I snorted. "So you're the exception?"
He grinned. "Sometimes."
He was right, though. As angry as I was, as frustrated as I felt, I wasn't about to strike one of my team mates without a really good reason.
I sighed. "So why didn't she come down here to stop me herself? Why'd she send you?"
Roland grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "She doesn't know I'm here."
"Okay. Then why are you here?"
"For the reasons I gave you." I glared at him some more. "Aaaand because your being upset is upsetting her."
"Hah! Why would it be doing that?"
"I can answer that one," Dia said from the speakers above me. "Many of the spirits that communicate with Totem on a daily basis are highly sensitive to emotional states, and can pass the discomfort they feel from negative emotions on to her."
"So you're saying my bad mood's giving her the heebie jeebies?"
"In a way."
With a defeated growl I crossed the room and plopped myself down on the edge of the sparring platform, wrapping my arms in the ropes. "Fine, then. Lay it on me. Make me feel better."
Roland smiled, a far more pleasant affair than the serious expression he usually wore in debriefings and on missions. He sat down next to me on the platform, but said nothing.
"Well?"
He shrugged. "You're the one who needs to talk, not me."
I grunted. "If I wanted to talk I'd have done it with Jami herself. Or Dia."
There was a telltale whirr, and less than a second later Dia stood before me, complete with workout clothes. With a snap of her fingers a chair formed behind her and she sat down. "Deal. Now talk."
I looked at the two of them. Then I looked at the door.
"Nah ah," Dia said. "Not 'til you've talked."
I had to laugh. "About what? About turning into a girl? About losing my family because of it? About knowing who killed my sister, and not being able to do a damn thing about it? WHAT," I screamed, feeling the anger building, "do you want me to TALK about, exactly?!"
"You haven't turned into a girl yet," Dia said, giving me a small smile.
I didn't return it.
"No, you're right, I haven't. Instead I'm stuck as THIS," I said, standing up and gesturing down my body.
A lot had changed in the week since I had left my parents. Mr. Stone had been right, the gunshot had done something to speed my transformation to the point that anyone looking at me would no longer doubt what they saw. My waist had shrunk down, at the same time as my face had softened. Most of my body hair had disappeared and what little was still there had morphed into the same golden blonde color as my hair, which had taken on a life of its own. My chest now sported a very obvious if not overly large set of breasts. Even my voice had completely changed. In fact, the only thing about me that still reminded of me was, well, reminding me less and less every day.
But none of that compared to the biggest problem. Turning into a girl wouldn't have been so bad, if it wasn't what girl I was turning into.
Roland nodded. "You're looking more and more like your sister every day."
"I KNOW!" I screamed, feeling the dam burst. "I know and I HATE IT! SHE, I, I can't... I can't..."
"What?"
"I CAN'T BE HER!"
Roland stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder gently. I tried to knock it away, but his grip only tightened slightly, my strike doing more to move me than him.
"No one expects you to."
"You ALL do!" I cried -- yes, cried. "Everyone always has! And now I'm even supposed to LOOK like her? I can't be me? How is this fair!" I slid to my knees, and Roland lowered himself with me, holding me stable.
Once I was no longer falling over, he looked at me and shook his head.
Dia crouched next to me, a sad expression on her face. "It's not fair, but none of us can change what's happening to you." She placed her hand on my forehead. I couldn't feel the actual contact, but where her hand touched me I felt a strange tingling sensation. "Your hormones are all over the place right now, Lou. Do you know what that means?"
I sniffled, feeling like a complete waste as I sat on the floor in tears. "No."
She gave me a serious look. "It means that your emotions are going to be all over the place too."
I laughed again, a humorless, cold sound. "So you're saying even my emotions are being turned into those of a girl?"
Roland turned to Dia. "I'm gonna go get Jami, okay?" Dia nodded, and he left, leaving me there alone with her.
"You gonna leave too?"
"Not on your life," she said, with a small smile. "Friends don't abandon friends when they need them." We were both quiet for a moment, before Dia asked me softly, "Is it really so bad?"
"What?"
"The changes in your body. Why are you letting it hurt you so?"
"My body is... it's part of who I am."
She looked confused. "Why?"
"Well... you know."
She shook her head. "Not really, no."
Before I could try to explain further Jami, in full Totem garb, came in, Roland in tow.
"Are you okay?"
I sniffled again. "Yeah, I'll be alright."
"Good," she said, stepping forward and giving me a hug. "I'm sorry about him. If I had known he would be such an idiot-"
"-hey!"
"-I wouldn't have told him about how I felt."
"No, it's okay," I said, stepping back to see her face. "He was just trying to help."
She frowned, and turned to him. "That's not how you go about it with girls! Or people who are turning into them," she said, giving me an apologetic glance.
While they stood there, warming up to an argument of their own, I waved to Dia before stepping around them and out the door.
-
NOTES:
Alright, so this is my first posting using the experimental single-chapter setup. Questions, concerns?
Come on, people, comment! It was kinda empty here last chapter, ya know? :P
Switcheroo
Issue Five
By Melanie E.
With a little help Louis starts to come to terms with his changes... just in time for a mission that could bring him the satisfaction he wants.
-----
Chapter 12
Reconstruction
Living at a superhero base was quite a bit different than living at home. On the plus side, I wasn't alone, since most of the rest of the team for one reason or other had chosen to use the base's accommodations rather than going to the expense of paying for their own. At the moment, though, that also served as probably the biggest disadvantage, as well.
Over the last two hours it seemed like everyone and their brother had come by and tried to get me to talk with the surprise exception of Dia. Sure, I knew she was monitoring me at all times regardless of what I did, which was another part of staying at a superhero base that took some getting used to, but at least she was being quiet about it.
I looked around my room. A week wasn't a whole lot of time to personalize a space when you're as busy as I had been, but I had done my best with the few things I had brought from home. A picture of me and my sister together sat on the desk in my room, next to the tee shirt she had given me in a special frame. A handful of posters and an old Dreamcast were the other personal touches I had managed yet, leaving the largeish room feeling cavernous in its emptiness.
"I think it could use some curtains, maybe a couple of futons or something to sit on. We can look at things online later if you want."
I sighed, and stared at the ceiling as I answered Dia. "The windows are just computer screens anyhow, so what's the point?"
"To make it more your own."
I stood up and walked to one of the "windows," watching the linked three dimensional screens displaying a view of the city outside from cameras far up the building. Reaching to the control panel next to me, I rolled the time back a few days, to the beginning of the thunderstorm that had only just passed. The speakers around me vibrated with the crash of thunder as the screens lit up with a brilliant flash of lightning.
"What's the point?" I asked with a frown. "In another week I'll probably just have to redo it anyhow when the mental changes kick in."
Dia appeared next to me, now dressed in jeans and a tank top. "I don't think so."
I glared at her. "Why not? Everything else about me is changing, why not that?"
She looked at me confused, a frown of her own on her face. "I still don't see why you think your body dictates who you are. It's one of the elements of human behavior I've never understood."
"What do you mean?"
She sat down on the ledge of the window, reaching one of her hands through and watching the rain run down her arm. I knew it was just an illusion, but it still made me smile to watch. "Lou, do you think of me as a computer program first or a person?"
I shrugged. "You seem as real as I am."
She smiled. "Thank you for saying that. But you know that all I am is a computer program, right? Just a few million lines of code operating together to create the person you see before you."
"Maybe, but you don't act like a computer program."
"No, and there is quite a bit more to me than there is in those crappy games you play on that thing," she said, pointing to my Dreamcast in the corner.
"Hey!"
"But why do you think that is? It isn't because of the server towers that make up my processing units, or the thousands of terrabytes of hard drive space that make up my memory. All of those things can be changed around, switched out, improved or broken. As long as my core program is intact, though, I'm still the same, just with different parts."
She looked me up and down. I was leaning against the wall next to the window, and knew that the outline of a lot of my body could clearly be seen through the thin exercise clothes I still wore. For a second she fuzzed out, and when she came back I was looking at a mirror of myself.
"It's not the same."
"Why not?" She came over to stand right in front of me. A wall appeared behind her, and she leaned against it, duplicating my pose. "The human body is just like the computer parts that make up my central systems, just smaller and messier. Your parts might be harder to replace than mine are, but they no more dictate who you are than mine do."
I stared at her, looking at me so smug, like she had broken any argument I had. "Really? Well, what do you have to say about the reprogramming I'm supposed to undergo?"
"Is that what you think is going to happen?" With another fuzz she was stood there before me again in her normal body.
"That's what everyone said, and I can... feel it. The changes." I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, looking up at Dia. "I don't want to be someone else, is that so bad?"
She sat against the wall next to me. "Lou, you aren't going to change that much. Yeah, some things will be different for you, but... it's more like added elements, okay? Just because a new program is loaded into me doesn't change me, either. I take what is in it and incorporate it into my systems, and from that I improve. Isn't this a lot the same?"
I thought about what she had said. "So you're saying I'm not going to change as much as I thought?"
She shook her head. "No! I'm gonna let you in on a secret, okay?" I nodded. "There's more to being able to take on the Switcheroo powers than just being in the right place at the right time. The best we can tell, there are certain markers that legacy powers look for when they are transferred before they will manifest. For the longest time sex was thought to be one of Switcheroo's, though you've apparently blown that out of the water. But the other markers we've noticed -- courage, ingenuity, a caring personality -- you've got all those already. The changes the powers put you through might make them more obvious, but they've always been a part of you."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
I shook. "But, what about... people? I mean, like, am I going to start liking guys now? Or will I be a lesbian? And everything affects me so much more now..."
She laughed softly. "That would be the hormones talking, I warned you about those. Being a girl is different than being a guy. Your body will behave differently, but the way things are interpreted will still be you. Your sexuality is another issue, though. Honestly I don't know on that one. From past experience Switcheroos have always been heterosexual, but I don't know how your unique situation will affect that."
"That's not much help."
"It isn't? I was sure it would be," she said with a grin.
I thought about what she had said, and gained a new appreciation for her. "How'd you get so smart?" I asked, feeling myself calming down.
"I guess I was just made that way. As were you."
I smiled at her. "Thanks for the help, Dia. I'd give you a hug if I could, but..."
Her image flashed for a moment. "Thanks." She started to say something else, when her eyes grew wide shortly before she disappeared completely, warning klaxons around the base going off as her voice came over the speakers. "ALL TEAM MEMBERS. An emergency meeting of August Branch members has been called in the briefing room. Please report there immediately. Repeat: an emergency meeting of August Branch members has been called in the briefing room. Please report immediately."
With a sense of dread I bounded up from my spot against the wall and rushed out the door.
-
"Can't we go a single week without the world coming down around us?"
"One of the perils of being a superhero," Bard said, sliding into his designated spot at the table.
The tension around the table was "palpable," I do believe is the word. Not one of knew what the emergency was. The klaxon that had been used indicated it wasn't an attack on the base, but emergency meetings were never called for something minor.
We had just begun to discuss what the problem might be when Mr. Stone, in full Martial regalia, marched into the room, a grimace plastered on his face.
"Sir, what's the problem?"
He took his place at the head of the room, and while looking directly at me said, "We know where Weaver has gone."
That was enough to silence everyone. Her betrayal had caused rifts in the team that were just starting to heal over, and all of us were ready for a little payback.
"Well?" Cherrybomb asked impatiently when Martial failed to continue.
"She has been monitored entering and leaving this building several times over the past few days," he said, touching the wall behind him and bringing up an image of a large office building I instantly recognized.
"Isn't that the replacement for the old Rhodes Building after Warhammer's fight with Efreet a few years back?"
He nodded. "It is. Further investigation has led the officials at the MDSPF main branch to the discovery that while most of the building is used by Rhodes Industries still, these floors," he pointed to the seventeenth through twentieth levels of the building, "are being rented to another company by the name of McCree Business Operations. Both the MDSPF and my contacts in the government agree that Rhodes Industries is about as clean as a big company generally gets, but so far nobody has been able to track down any information on this other company."
"So you think that might be where she's working from."
"I don't know," he said, leaning on the table, "but it's a start."
I stood up. "So what do we do?" I could feel the anger rising in me. Weaver had killed my sister, and tried to kill me -- there was no way in hell I was letting her get away again.
Martial touched the wall behind him again, and a series of dossiers appeared. "We're working with the local police on this one. Since we don't have any proof of wrongdoing they're going out on a limb helping us, but they have agreed to sending us up with a police escort while we ask some questions. We have to do this RIGHT," he said, glaring at me when I started to protest. "Too many supers forget that we don't have any legal jurisdiction to do what we do. The government overlooks this most of the time, but if we fly in and start busting heads and turn out to be wrong, we WILL be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do I make myself clear?"
I sat back down in my seat, thoroughly chastised but still fuming.
He smashed the table with his fist hard enough to crack the marble surface. "I want to get the bitch just as bad as you, but unlike the rest of you I've SEEN what the government will do to a Super that doesn't toe the line. Weaver is smart, smarter than any of us, and she wouldn't be this blatant about where she's going if she didn't think we were powerless to do anything to her. She WANTS us to go in angry and fuck this up. We. Can't. Do. That. Understood?" Everyone nodded. "The police are interested in bringing Weaver in as well due to her assault on Louis and a pending investigation into his sister's death, but there isn't enough evidence for them to justify doing this on their own, and that's the ONLY reason they've agreed to work with us on this."
"So when are we going in?"
"Tomorrow morning. I'll let everyone know later who is going with me. For now, you're all dismissed. Louis, stay here."
Everyone else walked out, leaving me sitting at the table with Martial -- I couldn't call him Mr. Stone when he was wearing his uniform.
"What did you need, sir?"
He sat down across from me, looking at me seriously. "I heard you're having trouble adjusting."
"I think I'm getting over it, sir. Dia's helped a lot."
He nodded. "Good. Because I want you on the team tomorrow. If you can keep your temper in check, that is."
My eyes narrowed. "If we see Weaver, sir, I can't make any promises."
"If we see Weaver, I don't think any of us would try to stop you Lou, unless you looked like you were in danger. That's not why I want you on, though."
I leaned back in my seat, staring at him. "Why, then?"
His expression eased into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You've been on the team for almost two months now and I haven't worked with you yet. Tomorrow should be non-combat, but I want to see how you handle yourself around civilians. Consider this part one of your first review."
He stood up and waved me toward the door, indicating our meeting was over. I shook his hand on the way out, going over and over in my head all the things I wanted to do to Weaver when I caught her.
-
NOTES: I know I tend to go overboard with the whole "emotional introspection" thing in my stories. Suffice it to say that short of major changes that would affect ANYone, most of the emotional vascillating for this story is done, so be prepared for a mostly straight-forward superhero story from here on out with the TG issue used more for flavoring than as the significant driving force behind the story -- at least that's what I'm hoping for.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
Excelsior?
Switcheroo
Issue Six
By Melanie E.
-----
Chapter 13
Dirty Business
When most people think of superhero cars they tend to focus on the iconic ones from comic books and television. The Batmobile, Black Beauty, the Fantasticar, hell, even the Freakmobile. A white Honda Civic usually doesn't make it onto the list.
And yet, that is what I found myself sitting in, along with Martial, Totem, and Bard, arguably the three best negotiators and talkers on our team. I was along mostly due to my connection with Weaver, but also as backup for Martial should things devolve into a fight at some point. Totem could direct her spirit companions to do some pretty nasty things, but it usually took a little preparation, and Bard's super-speed and TK blasts would do more harm than good in an enclosed space like an office building, though his TK barrier might serve us well in an emergency. Between Martial's superman-type abilities, minus the flight, and my own shapeshifting badassery we would have to take care of most of the opponents.
That is, of course, provided they didn't collapse from laughing first.
Dia had argued the point, and Martial had overridden my arguments when it came to returning my costume to an appearance closer to its original look. While changing its appearance had worked to distract from my lack of assets and different body shape before, now that my body had begun the process of filling out to a more classic Switcheroo shape the two of them had tag-teamed me into returning to the older design.
"Stop picking at it, you look fine."
"So says the lady who isn't wearing a spot of pink on her," I said with a glare for Totem's predominately white costume.
Martial sighed. "We can continue the costume argument when we get back to the base. For now, just deal with it."
"Says the man in the navy fatigues and a half-mask."
"Enough. We're here."
The Rhodes Legacy Building was one of the staples of Cedar Falls' riverside skyline. With its asymmetrical and chunky plate glass design, it looked more like some kind of strange statue than an office building. Nevertheless, it was bustling with activity as we exited our car and joined the police officers who were already waiting for us.
"Officer Crowley, good to see you again."
"You too... Martial. I take it you've explained the situation to those you're bringing in?"
"Yessir. They are aware that we are here to ask questions only."
Officer Crowley frowned, an expression that sat all too comfortably on his aged face. "Alright then. I'll admit, I'm not too happy with this plan myself. Back in the day we used to get things done, now with all this bureaucratic malarkey it takes six weeks of paperwork just to get permission to take a piss."
Martial bared his teeth in what could only be described as a snarl. "Let's hope that something happens to change the situation, then."
Crowley chuckled. "If it does, just make sure my men get out of there alive."
"You know me, Mike. I'll do my best."
"Alright then. Let's get a move on."
As a group we moved in on the building, Martial and Officer Crowley at front, Totem, Bard, and I next, with two more officers taking position behind us. The Rhodes employees gave us no problems, if more than a few strange looks, as we made our way through the ground floor and up the elevator to the seventeenth floor.
Whereas the ground floor had been largely modern minimalist in design, all chrome and glass with the occasional black or white accent, stepping off the elevator onto the seventeenth floor was like stepping into some kind of military base. Plain cinder block walls under a coat of white paint were lit by dim fluorescent lights overhead, our footsteps echoing off the walls as we followed the featureless hallway down to the empty metal desk at the end.
Even in human form I felt my hackles rise at the situation. Whatever was going on here, they obviously weren't too concerned about the front they put on for the public. Martial and Bard both looked just as nervous as I felt, and Totem had her eyes closed as she walked, small spirits zipping in and out of her barely visible even to my enhanced vision.
"Did they make a runner when they found out we were on our way?"
"I don't know. Either way, I don't like it."
As we approached the desk, a small disk above it lowered slightly, and I heard a familiar whirring as the image of a woman materialized before us.
"Greetings, I am DiVA, how may I help you today?"
Martial's eyes narrowed as he watched the computer generated woman closely. Her movements were stiffer than Dia's, and her image grainier, with less emotion, but it was obviously the same technology that was being used at our own base, and he didn't seem to like it. "Is this McCree Business Operations?" He asked.
"Yes sir, we are McCree Business Operations, premier enterprise in business applications of state of the art digital, virtual, and electronic systems. How may I help you today?"
"DiVA?" I said aloud, and the image spun in place to face me.
"I am DiVA, a Digital Virtual Assistant designed by McCree Business Operations to aid in the interaction between people and today's advanced computer technologies. How may I help you today?"
"How long have you been in service here?" Bard asked, walking around the desk and studying the projector mount as best he could.
"I am a prototype. I have been installed in this location for approximately seventy-six hours, eight minutes."
"We're not here to question the... computer, Bard," Martial said, gesturing to Bard to join us again before turning his attention back to the hologram. "Can you escort us to whoever is the supervisor at this location?"
"I am sorry sir, my operational parameters do not extend beyond approximately two feet away from this desk." She paused for a moment, her image frozen, before resuming movement with a jerk. "I have just been informed that the resident supervisor is expecting you. Please follow this map to locate his office." her image disappeared completely to be replaced by a map of the floor, with a glowing line indicating where we needed to go.
Without another word for the computer Martial led us down the hallways toward the destination marked on the map. I was sure I wasn't the only one curious about DiVA's presence, but none of us seemed ready to bring it up while still inside the building, though I could see Martial's expression darkening with each step we took toward the office. Whatever was going on here, it had Weaver written all over it.
There was another thing bothering me as we walked the halls. I couldn't quite place what it was, until one of the policemen behind me said quietly, "where's all the doors?" Sure enough, the place was full of corridors, but beyond the elevators at the beginning, I had yet to see a single door in the entire structure. Whatever was going on here was shady as hell, and I was beginning to fear that if things went south Martial and I would be hard pressed to get everyone out of this death trap alive.
We finally reached the first doors we had seen, right where we had been told the office would be. Bare metal security double doors, the only indication of their contents was a small plaque attached to the left-hand door that read "Supervisor's Office." Martial eyed the doors wearily before finally reaching forward and pushing them open with one fluid movement.
Inside we were faced with yet another surprise. Light streamed in through the large plate glass windows on two sides of the square room, illuminating the polished wood floors, and the long, cherry wood desk occupying the right side of the room, but suspiciously devoid of any papers, computers, or other sign of use except for the man behind it.
He was tall, and looked something like Patrick Stewart if he had been built like a wrestler. As he circled around the desk, he extended one well-manicured hand from the sleeve of his expensive suit toward Martial.
"Greetings," he said, in a subtle English accent, "I'm Anubis McCree."
-
NOTES:
Dun dun DUUUUUNNNN!!!
Yeah, it's been a while. I'm not writing very fast at the moment, sorry for that! Hopefully I'll be able to make up for it soon. In the mean time, comment and let me know what ya'll think!
Switcheroo
Issue 7
By Melanie E.
REEEEEAAAADD MMMEEEEEE!!!!!
-----
Chapter 14
Impotence
With a groan I sat up in my bed and immediately regretted it, the swimming of my head telling me to lay back down immediately -- an order I was all too willing to comply with.
"Nuh uh, now that you're awake you're getting up," Dia said, dialling up the lights in my room to "sun going supernova" and pulling a scream from my lips as I covered my eyes with my arm. "It's your own dumb fault, you know. You should have known better."
"Leame alone," I mumbled, wincing at the pain in my head as I turned over, burying my face in my pillow.
"Even supers can get hangovers. With how much you drank last night, I'm surprised you aren't crouched over the toilet already."
"Mebbeh when ah can feel mah legs aggin."
"...are you still drunk?"
"Ah wish."
This was why I had stopped drinking in college. I was always a real lightweight when it came to alcohol, and the effects were debilitating on me. Even a superhero's regenerative capabilities didn't seem to make a dent in it, though everything considered they were probably overloaded just keeping me from dying of alcohol poisoning.
But last night had warranted it.
I fought down a whimper as I rolled over, forcing myself to bear the light shining through my eyelids. "Did I do anything embarrassing last night?"
"Nothing worth posting to YouTube. I can show you the security cam footage later if you want."
"Urgh, no thanks."
"I'll save it for blackmail footage then. So, are you getting up or do I need to get Jacinda in here to throw you out of bed."
"No, I'm up."
....
"Being up means getting out of bed, which means opening your eyes."
"I'll open my eyes when the room decides to stop spinning."
"Not gonna happen. Get up, throw up, and get a move on. Mr. Stone is waiting for you."
Luckily I managed to avoid the second option as I hauled myself out of bed, though it was a close thing. Looking in the mirror of my bathroom gave me a shock, though.
"What the hell!?"
"It was Jami's doing. She's the one who put you to bed last night."
"And you let her?"
"I thought you looked good."
How I looked was not the issue I had, what I looked like was. At least the camisole and sleep shorts were in cream -- I think I would have passed out again if they had been pink.
"Where did she find girl's clothes in my size?"
"Well, you'll be needing them soon, so... I kinda have some ready?"
"And she just happened to know this because?"
"She helped pick them out."
"Ah."
I finally gave in and took the option to vomit.
"I will not kill Dia, I will not kill Dia, I will not kill Dia," I repeated to myself over and over until I finally started to believe it, and only then did I stand back up from the toilet to find her standing behind me with an apologetic expression.
"Sorry?"
I waved her off. Intellectually I knew it had to happen sooner or later, but unlike so many other things in my life I had hoped this was something I would have had some control over. With a sigh I cleaned myself up and stripped off, hoping a shower would remove the last of my dizziness.
Mr. Stone was less than pleased when I finally stumbled into his office looking about as well as I felt, though I was at least clean.
"I want you to understand one thing," he said, staring into my eyes. "Last night was the first and last time you will EVER get drunk so long as you are working within my organization. We're supposed to be heroes, and the last thing I need is for a member of my team to fuck something up because they felt like getting tipsy. DO YOU UNDERSTAND."
I flinched back from his anger, nodding furiously.
"Good," he said, calming himself as he lowered into the large chair behind his desk. "That said, I'm not going to punish you for last night. I would have gotten drunk too if I were in your position."
"That sonufabitch didn't even deny that she worked for him, and we couldn't do a damn thing."
Mr. Stone's glare returned, though this time I knew it wasn't directed at me. "I know. We need to fix that."
-
I felt my hackles raise as I watched the man before us, studying him even as he studied us. He was strong, that was obvious, and smart, I could tell by his eyes. But there was something else that had me even more on edge. He wasn't scared of any of us.
"Anubis McCree? So you're the one who owns this company then?"
The man smiled, though it never reached his eyes. "That I am, though this is more of a hobby really. I've made my money through independent investments; this is just my way of returning some of that good fortune to the people of the world."
Martial took the man's hand and shook it firmly before McCree returned to his seat behind the desk. "And how is it that I might help our resident superhero squad today?"
"We have a few questions we would like to ask you, if you will agree."
McCree nodded. "Absolutely. Anything to help our boys -- and girls," he said, looking at Totem and then me, "in spandex."
This man was too confident, and I wasn't the only one who had noticed. Nobody was this calm around us, not even the police who had escorted us up.
"Good," Martial said, stepping up to the desk and pulling a pair of photographs out of a pocket discreetly hidden in the chest of his suit. "What can you tell us about this woman?"
McCree looked at the photographs, that same damning smile never leaving his face. "Ah, you mean Daisy."
Daisy? Weaver's name was DAISY?
"She came in and applied for a position with my company about six months ago. I was reluctant to hire her at first, but I must say that since she has joined us she has provided us with some quite interesting technology. DiVa is one of her creations. Quite a wonder, wouldn't you agree?"
"That technology is stolen, and we have reason to believe she is responsible for the death of at least one member of our team."
McCree chuckled. "Really now? Daisy has never struck me as the killing type. As for the technology, I can assure you that everything needed to produce DiVa was manufactured in our own facilities, and is in the process of being patented as we speak. If the technology is stolen, then I believe that the creator is the only one with whom we would have an issue, and if he or she does not step forward I'm afraid there's nothing I will do to prevent our version from going into production."
I watched anxiously as Martial's eyes narrowed. "Nevertheless we would like to question her. If you can provide us with some way to contact her, we would be more than happy to let you return to your... business."
"Oh? Well, I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid that, as you can see, our records are at the current time unavailable to me as my computer terminal is down for maintenance. Until they have it updated to itegrate with DiVa's systems, there really is not a terrible lot that I can provide you with, I do apologize." As he talked, I could see the expression on McCree's face shift. The smile was still there, but it was no longer the smile of a businessman conning his way through a meeting -- it had become something much darker, and I involuntarily shivered when he looked at me again. "Switcheroo, isn't it? I am glad to see that you have finally recovered from the incident a few months ago. I had heard you were dead, but that is obviously not true, isn't it?"
Still smiling, he stood up from his desk and bowed to our group. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm afraid I must bring this meeting to a close. I do apologize for being so little assistance. I trust you can find your way out?" As McCree talked he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a class and a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a double while never taking his eyes off our group.
I could see the tension in his body as Martial turned around stiffly. "Let's go," he said, heading toward the door.
-
"What's the matter?" Mr. Stone asked me as I sunk down into one of the chairs across from his desk, my legs suddenly going weak.
No. It couldn't be. Could it?
There had been something familiar about that Scotch. The bottle, the smell.
"Sir? I think I know where we can get more information on McCree, though I'm not sure how to get in contact with him."
"How?" Mr. Stone asked, but before I could answer, the bright blue telephone on his desk -- the MDSPF private line -- rang. "Hello? Who? Yes." With a cold expression he stood, and held the phone across the desk to me.
"Huh?"
"It's for you," he said, without expression. I took the phone nervously.
"Hello?"
"Ah, if it isn't our wonderful new Switcheroo," a voice I recognized said from the other end of the line.
My hand started to shake as I answered. "Hello, Horus."
-
NOTES:
So, whatcha think? Huh? HUH? Tell me!
Seriously, though, do I need more action? More buildup? More supers? More Dia? Give me a few suggestions here and there on how to improve things, so I know what people wanna read.
Writing for a web site like Big Closet isn't as dry and lacking of input as something like writing a novel on your own. I WANT people's opinions, not just blind praise, so that I can write a story that everyone will enjoy.
I've been more than happy with the numbers as far as comments so far, and I know I couldn't ask for a better audience, so now I need you to tell me what it is you want.
Thank you.
Melanie E.
Switcheroo
Issue 8
By Melanie E.
Just like PFH, sorry for the long wait!
Horus is on the line, and Lou is less than happy about it. What could the mysterious information peddler have this time, and what will Lou have to give up in exchange?
EDIT: Now with corrected outline with chapters 6 and 7 linked by request!
(For those of you looking for superhero fights -- I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I promise they're coming! Issue Ten at the latest!)
Chapter 15
Insecurities
"It is so nice to hear your dulcet tones yet again, my dear Switcheroo. Have you... adapted, to your new role, yet?"
"What do you want, Horus."
A sigh emmanated from the other end of the line. "Ah, I guess you are still having issues, then. To be expected, given the nature of your changes. As to my reasons for calling -- by now I would guess you have at least started the reconstruction of the pieces of the puzzle, even if the solution should still elude you."
"You knew. Even before you met with us, you already knew who she was working for," I barked down the line, feeling the itch in my teeth that usually preceded changing into my lioness form.
"Of course I knew, but that information was not on the table for bargaining at the time, and even had it been, you would not have been ready to accept it."
"You bastard." I fought to control my anger, even as Mr. Stone gestured to me that I needed to keep him talking. "Tell me what you know about McCree."
"Alas, that is not something I can share as of yet. I can, however, present you with information on where our Lady Weaver shall next be easily available, should you care to bargain for it."
"Bargain for it?"
"Yes, bargain. Though I must warn you, you are not going to like it."
-
"It's all a game to him. Who wins, who loses, who dies, he doesn't care."
"Be that as it may, he's the best lead we have on this. And the two of you are going to be responsible for handling any and all dealings with him."
Totem looked less than pleased with this pronouncement, but Mr. Stone's tone of voice told both of us that his words were final.
Not that I was happy with the state of things, either. After all, Totem just had to be the diplomat who dealt with the bastard. I was the one he had plans for.
Horus's demand had been simple. In exchange for the information on where Weaver would be, and a promise that we would have her, we were expected to make a promise of our own. A promise I was less than willing to give in to.
"Why didn't he ask us to stop the MDSPF's investigations into him? Or another raid like the one he had us do on the warehouse? This is ridiculous!"
Mr. Stone rubbed the bridge of his nose as he glared at me. "I don't know why, but you're damn well better going to do what he asked or so help me I will MAKE you, are we clear."
"Crystal," I said calmly, but glaring right back at him.
Whatever Horus's plans might have been, his demand had been that I had to start presenting as a girl. What in the hell kind of a demand was that for him to make?! It made no sense to any of us, yet he had been adamant.
"Just tell me what your demand is."
"I want to see you in a pretty dress."
"Go to hell."
"My dear, I am Horus. I have seen hell many times. If you want your information, you will have to prove to me that you take being our beloved Switcheroo serious. As Switcheroo is always a woman, this is of course part of your duties to the station.
Otherwise, no information."
He had hung up immediately after that, leaving me standing there with a dead phone line and a rising sense of frustration.
The way I saw it, Totem was right, it was nothing but a game to him. But what kind of game? And why was I a part of it anyhow?
"Sir, I don't know what you expect me to do. It's not like I can afford to just go out and buy a new wardrobe or something."
"Why not? The MDSPF provides you with free living quarters here and a mess hall, I don't see what else you're spending your money on."
"I am NOT wasting my money on... clothes!"
"RAAAAH!" Mr. Stone screamed as he slammed his fist into his desk, splintering it on impact. "YOU will do what is necessary! I have HAD IT with your attitude, and frankly it's about time you faced the facts."
"Just what is that supposed to mean?"
With fury in his eyes, Stone turned from me to Totem. "Get her out of here and explain things. Please, before I do something I'll regret."
"Come on," Totem said, grabbing my arm and dragging me out the door as quickly as she could. As soon as we were clear of it, the door slid into place with a resounding 'thunk.'
Totem stared at me with disbelief. "I can't believe you spoke to him like that!"
"It's fricken' clothes!"
The last thing I ever expected was for Totem, Jami, to slap me.
"What was that for?"
"You just said it yourself! It's. Just. Clothes. Dammit, Lou, when's the last time you really looked at yourself?"
I gave her my best death-stare. "This morning, when I saw what you had put me in."
"And what did you see?"
I couldn't answer her. Instead, I turned away, and stomped off toward my room.
"You already mostly wear girl's clothes anyhow, Lou."
"I don't wanna hear this."
"Your body's just not built for the guy's stuff any more!"
"I don't wanna hear this!"
"You don't really have a choice any more!"
"DAMMIT, LEAVE ME ALONE!"
I slammed the 'close door' button on the inside of my room's door frame, but nothing happened, and Totem stormed into my room, grabbing me by the arm again and dragging me into the bathroom.
"Look at yourself. Look!"
I did.
-
"Pleeease, Lou? PLEEEEEASE?"
I looked down into Lesli's eyes, and felt my strength start to wane.
"Can't we play something else, Lesli? Everyone will laugh at me if they see."
"No they won't! I'll make you look sooo pretty, everyone will love you!" She said it with all the conviction of a seven year old who knew that it was only a matter of time before her older brother gave her her way, and that smile that always melted my heart.
*sigh* "Alright, but I'll only play with you inside of the house, okay?"
"Yay! Thank you, Lulu!"
"Lulu?"
"That's what I'm calling you while we play!"
Suddenly I had a feeling this would be the longest Saturday ever.
I had no idea where she found a dress in my size. It wasn't one of hers, and it certainly wasn't one of our mother's, but nevertheless there it was. No shoes, and my short hair looked rather rediculous even at that age, but it looked better on me than I had expected it to, and soon I completely forgot about it as we played together.
"Kids, I'm home! Lesli honey, I brought you a -- Louis James Phelps, what the hell are you wearing! Get out of that piece of shit this instant or I have half a mind to make you wear it to school on Monday!"
I looked over at Lesli, and I could see the fear in her face. Fear of what would happen if I told our mother the truth.
Hiding my own fear the best I could, I turned back to our mother. "I'm sorry Mom, I just thought it would be fun to play with Lesli for a little bit."
"Don't you DARE talk back to me, young man," she said, reaching out and grabbing the sundress by the neck, trying to rip it off of me. "If I EVER catch you dressed like this again, you will get a whipping like you won't believe!"
I cried as she dragged me to my room by the neck of the dress while Lesli watched, tears in her own eyes, but too afraid to do anything.
-
"Lou? LOU!"
"Grrrrgh, wha?"
Everything was fuzzy when I first opened my eyes, but it wasn't long before Totem's worried face swam into view above me.
"What happened?"
"Lou, I'm sorry. Are you alright? I dragged you over to the mirror and you looked at yourself, but then your eyes just went blank and you fainted."
That would explain the headache, I thought as I tried to sit up. At least this time I was still wearing the sweats I had slipped into before heading off to talk to Mr. Stone.
"I'm fine," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too."
One good thing about my involuntary nap was that it seemed to have drained all my energy for feeling angry, and now I was left with nothing but grim disappointment with what I knew was expected of me. They might be right about how I looked, and what I needed to do.
But there was no way I was giving up without a fight.
"Jami?"
"Yeah?"
"If we're gonna do this, I've got some requirements of my own."
-----
NOTES:
Okay, I know a lot of people probably won't be very happy with this chapter, and BEFORE THE ANTI-MARTIAL CROWD STARTS YELLING ABOUT UNFAIRNESS, I should point out a few things:
A) Lou isn't the only person on the team who's been having issues dealing with things lately. Martial, as the director of their team, is being held personally responsible by the entire MDSPF for Weaver's infiltration, something that will probably be touched on more later in the story. This might not forgive his behavior, but it does go a ways to explaining it.
B) We're only seeing things from Lou's side, and trust me, s/he's a snarkier piece of work than most of the dialogue so far has let on. I'll be working on getting this through better later, but writing a superhero story's a new experience for me, so I hope a few issues in style/substance will be forgiven.
Alright, now let the comments rip!
Melanie E.
Switcheroo
Issue 9
By Melanie E.
-----
Chapter 16
Concessions
Dia gave me a look of sick disappointment as I deleted almost every reference to the original Switcheroo costume from the system with a a final 'click' of the delete key at her core terminal.
"I can't believe you would be this petty."
"Petty? Please. For all I've given up since getting these powers, you owe me this much."
She continued to frown, but didn't argue with me as I turned around and left the dark, claustrophobic room that housed her core systems. Walking in there had been like stepping inside my friend's brain, and it was not a pleasant experience in the least.
But it was part of my requirements to the team for me meeting Horus's demands. From now on, I had full control of my own costume design, legacy issues be damned. The mere thought of spending the time designing something new for myself was enough to help me build the confidence I needed for what lay ahead of me.
Raiding my own closet.
It might have been my own room, but the door before me led to a section of the apartments that I had never entered. With some hesitancy I took the necessary step forward and pressed the panel next to the door.
And gasped at what I saw.
When Totem had told me that Dia had been purchasing clothing online, I had thought for sure it would have been maybe a few pairs of jeans and tee shirts, maybe a couple of skirts and dresses if I were really unlucky. I had thought wrong.
"Why is it that I even need to leave the base to go shopping for clothes again?" I asked the air as I entered the spacious closet that held more clothes than I had owned in my entire life.
Dia appeared next to me in a flash, pride beaming from her face. "Because what you have here is a little bit of everything. I bought a lot of different styles because I couldn't be sure what you would prefer."
"And where did the money for this come from?"
She laughed. "You don't think you're the only member of the team who's not spent much of their wages yet, do you?"
I paused in surprise. "They PAY you?"
"Well, of COURSE they do! I might be a computer, but I'm still sentient. Sure, I don't make as much as you guys do since a portion of my 'wages' goes toward maintenance and power consumption, which is no small amount believe me, but I've got a game library like you wouldn't believe tucked away in here. They're not as much of a challenge when you can modify the source code on the fly to let yourself win, though," she said with a frown.
"I'd imagine not," I chuckled, turning toward a set of cabinets against one wall that, upon opening, contained an embarrassing array of undergarments. My nervousness suddenly came back full force. "Are you sure I have to do this?"
"It's way past time, Lou," she said with a sympathetic smile before facing the cabinet herself. "You'll have to face this sooner or later, and it's better to get it out of the way now than have to live your life worrying about it."
"I never expected I'd live long enough for it to be an issue."
"Please don't say that."
It was true, though. Of all the Legacy powers that were out there, it was well known that the Switcheroo powers tended to mean a short life expectancy. Sure, occasionally there was someone who would surprise you -- the Switcheroo my sister had inherited the powers from had been at it for more than twenty-five years, a feat we had hoped she would be able to equal if not surpass -- but most of the time those who wielded the powers died within a decade of getting them.
My own sister had only survived six months. Why would I expect to live even that long? And yet here I was, already at the two month mark myself.
Thinking about what happened to my sister only served to make me angry, though, and the LAST thing I needed was to get angry again. The Hulk might have gotten his powers in the comics from his rage, but all it did to me was make me impulsive and stupid. I guess we have that in common, actually. Regardless, if I was going to do this, I needed a cool head, and to keep my emotions in check.
"Alright, so what should I wear today?"
The squeal of glee I received in response chilled me to my core.
-
Jami gave me a glare that could have killed at a hundred paces.
"What?"
She folded her arms across her chest and sighed as she shook her head. "I can't believe this. Most girls would kill for measurements like that, and you're whining over it!"
"Hey, I was a guy not too long ago!"
"Apparently longer than you thought."
I stared at the list of measurements Dia had printed out for me and, I'll admit it, I pouted. Thirty-six inch chest. Twenty-eight inch waist. Thirty-four inch hips. I was by no means tiny, but damn. "B" cup? It sure looked like a hell of a lot more than something that would be called a "B" to me.
Combined with the clothes she had picked out for me, I was having a hard time seeing a guy when I looked at myself.
She had wanted to put me in a dress or skirt, but I had flat out refused that. Wasn't it enough that I was consenting to girl's clothes at all? What I had ended up with was a pair of jeans and a tank top. I had thought they would feel just like my old clothes, but it really was amazing how much of a difference the cut made.
And the underwear, but I wasn't ready to think about that just yet.
The tank was green, "to match my eyes" according to Jami, though when I mentioned her wearing something white to do the same she had given me a death-glare similar to the one over my measurements. She had even insisted on giving my hair a quick trim to make it fit the look better. Personally, I wasn't about to look in a mirror until I'd had time to mentally prepare myself. Maybe next Tuesday, if I really worked at it. The cargo pants were, well, cargo pants, though a bit lower rise than I was used to, and I had managed to talk them into a pair of red Converse sneakers instead of the horribly uncomfortable looking boots they had tried to hand me.
Once I grew used to it, though, I decided I could handle this, and they agreed to leaving the makeup until I was better prepared for it at least. It might not be exactly what Weaver asked for, but dammit, at least I was making the effort.
"Ready to go?"
"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
"Good," Jami said, slipping on a pair of glasses. I gasped when I saw her eyes change from their normal, slightly glowy milky white color to a deep brown. When she saw my expression, she laughed. "The glasses are a new thing. They were built by the guy who originally designed Dia, with some kind of one-way screen thing that overlays an image of a normal pupil and iris on my eye when people look through the lenses. I'm trying them out today in hopes that they'll replace the itchy contacts I usually have to use," she said with a grimace. "I hate those things."
I stepped around her, looking at the glasses from different angles. From the side I could see her normal eyes, but from the front she looked like any other girl. "Let your hair down," I told her, indicating her long braid she almost always wore. Reluctantly she complied, and when I circled her again her hair fell around the sides of her face, easily hiding her eyes the rest of the way. "Perfect."
"Then let's go."
-
Of course, saying you're ready for something and actually BEING ready are two entirely different things, aren't they?
It was another twenty minutes before I finally worked up the courage to follow Jami down to the garage, and another five before I had enough to actually climb into her silver Impreza. As soon as I was in, though, she was on the gas and out the door.
"Put this in your ear," she said, handing me a black block of plastic. "It's not a babelfish or nothing, just trust me," she told me with a chuckle at my confusion.
With a shrug I did as she asked, to be greeted by a series of beeps followed by a very familiar voice.
"Hey girl! This is gonna be great!"
"Dia?"
"The one and only! I might not be able to join you on the shopping trip, but I still wanted to find some way to come so The Doctor worked this little device up for me."
"Who?"
"No, not that doctor, Dr. Steven Doctor, the guy who built me."
"...You can't be serious."
"I am, and trust me, he hates Dr. Doctor jokes. Anyway, this little device is basically just a bluetooth headset with a pinhead camera in it I can use to look around while we're shopping. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, Dia," I said with a smile. "Far be it from me to deny you your shopping trip."
I heard Jami giggling, and looked over to see a similar black block next to her ear.
"If you're comfortable enough for wisecracks then you're comfortable enough for a day out."
I still wasn't sure if I agreed, but I didn't bother to argue with her either.
August Branch headquarters lay near the center of Cedar Falls, our home city. This was a good thing when it came to our work, since we were never more than a twenty minute 'copter ride from any location we needed to be at, but it was a bad thing when it came to driving around town, since it meant traffic was always a bear to deal with.
On the other hand, with Jami and Dia preoccupied planning their order of attack for the day, I had some time to consider my situation in relative peace.
If I gave in and got rational about things, something I was very reluctant to do, then I had to admit it was about time I started dealing with things better.
The entire team was under a lot of stress, and tensions had been running high ever since Weaver's betrayal. Mr. Stone was being held personally responsible for the branch's lack of preparation not only by MDSPF main headquarters but also by their government contacts, and as much as he tried to hide it his nerves had been growing more frayed by the day as he worked at dealing with that along with his other duties as head of our branch.
I hadn't been helping the situation, to be sure. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't about to apologize for how I had acted, but I could see why he had finally snapped. Everyone else was either too busy handling their own feelings, or in the cases of Jacinda and Tag, whose name I still hadn't gotten, didn't care what I did, but Mr. Stone had no choice but to deal with it.
And I doubt Dia would have let him even ignore it even if he had tried.
Still, I wasn't about to just lie down and let them dictate my life for me. I needed their help if I wanted to catch my sister's killer, but the MDSPF had been short on recruits the last few years, and they needed me just as much as I needed them. If this partnership was going to work, they were going to have to deal with giving me a few of my own demands.
The costume, at least, was a start, though one I probably could have thought through better. They had the design I had made when I had first joined still on file, and until I took the time to work something new out with Dia it would have to do, but I wasn't about to go traipsing about in the skin tight not-lycra-polymer-stuff any longer than I had to. Even as a guy I had always thought it was a bit ridiculous, and I had teased Lesli about it a few times, to her annoyance. Now that it was me in the costume I was sure she was laughing at the turnaround from wherever she was now.
"Hey, Lou, are you listening?"
"Huh? What was it?"
"We'll start with Sears and work our way up from there, alright? If things get too much for you, let us know and we'll call it quits."
I couldn't help but smile at the concern in Jami's voice. She was trying, at least, to help me with this. "That sounds fine to me."
-
***Forty-Five Minutes Later***
"Hurry your ass up before something else falls on us!"
"Hey, gimme a chance to catch my breath, I--"
"Duck!"
We both hit the ground just in time for the chunk of concrete to wizz past our heads, shattering the brick wall behind us.
"Dammit! Where are you, you little bitch." The gruff woman's voice reverberated off the crumbling structure around us, causing more rubble and dust to fall.
I didn't answer. Instead, I scrambled over the debris to where Jami lay and made sure she was alright before signalling her to follow me.
We almost made it to out the doors before a meaty hand grabbed me by the ankle and lifted me up.
"Not so fast. We've got a score to settle," Collision Course growled before flinging me bodily into the nearest wall.
-
NOTES:
Alright, so this might not be exACTly what people were wanting, but I'm trying to move the story forward, people! So comment, let me know what ya think!
And, enjoy!
Melanie E.
Switcheroo
Issue 10
By Melanie E.
-----
This is mostly just a good faith gesture letting people know I really AM still writing. I had originally intended this to be a "Special Double Length Tenth Issue Spectacular" but it's taking me too long to write, so here's a normal length episode instead. We'll save the double-length issue for 25 or so. Sound good?
-----
Chapter 17
Beat 'Em Up
Why can't real-life superheroing be like the comic books? You know, where the hero always recovers almost instantly from any injury and comes back to win the day?
The truth is, getting the wind knocked out of you by being flung into a concrete wall HURTS, and there's no getting up quickly from something like that no matter how good your healing abilities are.
After sliding down the wall I had just enough energy to roll over on my back and groan, which wasn't a big help in the current situation.
Of course I knew who Collision Course was. While she was mostly a B-list villainess, doing odd jobs for a few of the higher-ups in just about any criminal organization that could afford her rates, she had gained some reknown about nine months ago when she killed the Switcheroo before my sister. It was more bad luck on Switcheroo's part than CC's skill, though -- there was no way either could have predicted the CO2 tank would explode on impact when she had smacked the last Switcheroo with it, but it had been enough to end things for her in a rather swift and chilly way. The boulder that was dropped on her after probably didn't help either.
After joining the ranks of the MDSPF myself I had found out that she'd had a long-running vendetta with my forerunner due to being another applicant for the powers. She had been deemed a bad choice due to mental instability, and in a rage had gone to "the other side," so to speak. What they gave her was a banned Super Soldier syrum that they were experimenting with. It made her super strong, and able to withstand just about anything short of a direct hit from a .30 cal, but at the expense of most of her sanity.
She didn't seem to miss it all that much.
The rubble strewn around what had been a Dillard's only a few minutes ago slowed Collision Course down just enough that I managed to catch my breath in time to roll out of the way of the support beam she brought down, moments before it took my head off.
"I've killed you before, I can do it again, bitch!"
I mouthed a word of apology to Jami and the store as I transformed, ripping the first -- and hopefully last -- skirt I had ever been convinced to try on to shreds in the process. It seemed to me that my bear form would be the toughest of the bunch, and I was happy to see Collision Course's expression change from one of triumph to one of rage, and finally surprise as with a swipe of one massive paw I sent her flying across the room.
I roared as I charged across the rubble after her, my large footpads and paws easily finding purchase on the debris. I wasn't about to give her a chance to get up, either, and as soon as I reached her I swiped my claws down her exposed back.
I'd like to say I didn't enjoy her scream, but that would be a lie.
Before I could attack her again, she rolled over, throwing a foot into my stomach on the way. As a bear I had a lot better resistance to her strike, but it still hurt like hell, and sent me reeling backward from her. She didn't even bother to check her back as she stood up and leapt at me, clutching her fists together and bringing them down as one.
I reacted on impulse, ducking and morphing at the same time and came back clamping my wolf's teeth hard on her ankle. Just like her back, I knew that it would heal almost as soon as I let go, but I had to do something to keep her attention and draw her away from the store and any more destruction.
Another kick, and I was sailing through the air out the doors, morphing into my lioness on the way and scrambling to my paws as soon as I hit the ground. I could hear her thundering toward me, pushing shelves and displays aside like they were nothing. I knew she would follow me, and not knowing anywhere close that would get her safely away from people I decided the parking lot would be the best I could do.
I let out a growl as I leapt from car to car, drawing her as much into the open as I could. She complied with my wishes, knocking the cars out of the way in her rush to get to me.
That was when I saw it. The lone figure, perched atop the building with a gun almost as large as he was in his hands.
One of the nice things about being in animal form -- you always had the best poker face possible.
I heard the whistle, and watched her eyes widen in surprise before rolling up into her head as Collision Course lived up to her name, slamming into the pavement with a sickening thud. Sticking out of her back were three massive tranq darts, leaving me wondering just how many chemicals it must have taken to put her down like that.
I padded over to her fallen body and sniffed her carefully. Her fingers twitched briefly, raising my hackles, but then her breathing shifted, and I knew she was out cold.
"Lou? Lo-Switch! There you are!"
Jami came toward me, jogging slowly and nursing her left arm. I felt a twinge of guilt inside that I hadn't managed to keep her from getting hurt, but I knew there hadn't been much I could do. She slowed down as she came closer though, her eyes narrowing when she saw the tranq darts.
"Alright, Nate, come on out!"
"No need to yell," a mechanical-sounding voice said as I saw the figure from the roof approaching. Nate, or Armory, looked a little crazy walking around in a tee shirt and jeans with his suit's helmet and wrist computer. As he walked toward us, he typed away at the console on his arm and both disappeared with a strange metallic flash. "The cops should be here soon, and we should get going before a crowd gathers."
I looked around us and saw that sure enough, all the mundanes who had fled when Collision Course had first called me out in the store were now flocking to the scene, cameras and cell phones at the ready.
"Alright," Jami said with a defeated sigh. "Let's get inside so Switch can change and put on some clothes. I guess my shopping mood has been shot to shit anyhow."
'Aww, jeez, and I was just getting into it too,' I thought to myself sarcastically, though all that came out was a feline "Growmf."
"Don't you start with me, girl."
"Gramflwrl."
"Just deal with it."
I continued cursing her in cat the rest of the way to the building, but she just ignored me as she started searching through the rubble for our shopping bags.
"Aha!" She called triumphantly as she pulled them out of the remains of a rack of shoes. "Get your tail over here and change so we can go."
I hid behind the fallen stands as best I could while I transformed, the cold air from the surprisingly still working A/C in the building leaving me covered in goosebumps. Digging through the bags, I cursed in english this time as I realized that there was no way in hell I was getting out of here looking the least bit like a guy.
I reluctantly slid the panties up my legs before pulling on a pair of jeans that were far lower rise than I could have ever imagined myself wearing. Looking down at myself, then at the bags, I realized a problem.
"Jami, there aren't any shirts in here."
No answer.
"Jami?" I called again, standing up to look for her only to find myself eye to eye with Nate. Or, in his case, wide eyes to breasts.
Time stood still as I stared, frozen in shock, at the man who had helped me defeat Collision Course now ogling my much-maligned boobs.
"Hey Lou I was looking for any sales assistants left to see if I could buy a..." Jami slid to a half when she saw us, before bursting out in a hysterical laugh.
Nate spun around, blood rushing to his face, as I felt my own skin starting to burn. I wrapped my arms around my chest and slid back down behind my temporary wall, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.
"Ahem."
I looked up to find an arm hanging over the wall, holding a tee shirt. "Put this on."
I snatched the shirt from the hand above me and slid it on as quickly as I could, unable to cover myself fast enough.
Standing up again, this time fully clothed, I saw Jami grinning like a fool next to a now-shirtless Nate, who seemed to have developed a sudden extreme interest in a pile of bricks near his feet.
At least now I knew where the shirt had come from.
"Can we go now?" I asked, picking up the bag of clothes next to me and looking longingly toward the door.
"We'll need a ride. Collision Course kinda smashed my car up trying to get to you."
"Sorry."
Jami shrugged. "It happens. Superhero insurance covers it."
Nate coughed. "My truck's around the corner."
"Lead the way then."
We managed to lose ourselves in the crowd outside the store, nobody realizing we were partially involved in all the commotion. It had always struck me as strange how easily people forgot you were a Super when you weren't using your powers, but for the moment I was happy to just be left alone.
Nate led us around the back of the mall and through the employee parking lot, to an impressive black dually. With a beep the doors popped open, and we all climbed in, still not saying a word.
-
"No."
"Okay, how about this?"
"No."
"This?"
"HELL no."
"Maybe... this?"
"You're kidding, right?"
Dia morphed her clothes back to normal from her latest super-offering, a frustrated grimace marring her cute features. "Aww, come on, they're good designs!"
I stared at her in disbelief. "Just how many comic books do you read, anyhow?"
"All of them."
"Hah! Figures."
Comic books were the best comparison I could come up with for what she had offered me. There was the Wonder Woman-esque outfit, consisting of a tiger-striped bustier and hot pants. Then there was the Supergirl leotard and cheerleader skirt combo. Then there was the classic X-men body stocking with a pink and orange diamond pattern.
And there was no way in hell I would be caught dead wearing any of them.
"Well, then, why don't you tell me what you want?"
"Can do!" I said happily, pulling a sketch book out of my messenger bag. It was as close to carrying a purse as I was willing to come, and anyone wanting to argue with me could stuff it.
Dia looked over my shoulder as I flipped through the pages of designs I had worked up for possible costumes. I was rather proud of them myself, especially considering I'd only had a day to come up with them, but her frown told me she was less than happy.
"What's wrong?"
"Where's the pink?"
"There isn't any," I said with a grin.
"But... you're Switcheroo. And Switcheroo wears pink."
I shook my head. "Not this one."
"But--"
"Listen," I cut her off, an edge in my voice, "I know all the reasons why people with Legacy powers usually keep the same color schemes and costumes as the people who had the powers before. I ALSO know that I'm not the first person to change that. The old costume was only half a step away from fetish wear, and made me look like an extra from Flashdance. I'm willing to compromise on a lot of things, but in the end I have final say on the costume, okay?"
She flinched, making me feel bad, but she was nodding agreement.
Feeling a bit guilty, I offered a compromise. "Look, the pink is out, but if you want we can work with the orange color a bit, alright?"
The beginnings of a smile began to form on her face again, and I knew I had made the right decision.
"So, how can we make this work?"
She looked over my sketches again for a moment, looking thoughtful. "All of these have baggy clothing elements to them."
I nodded. "I wanted it to be comfortable and functional even when I'm not in animal form." It still tired me out to change as often as I tended to when fighting, and the last thing I wanted to have to worry about was a leotard riding up in places it had no business going on top of that.
"I can see that, but the problem is the polymer used for the material has to fit close to the skin in order to be able to change with you. With something like this," she pointed to one of my favorite combos, basically a tank top with combat fatigue cargos, "your pants would be ripped to shreds because they wouldn't be tight enough to react to your body chemistry."
"Well... shit." I could see what she was talking about, and why that threw most of my designs out the window. "Is there no way to make the material work further away from my body?"
"Not that I know of," Dia said, drumming her fingers on the table. Hearing the sound of their tapping coming from the speakers around us rather than the table itself was odd, but once you were around Dia for a while things like that tended to stop bothering you as much. "There is one person who might know, though."
"Who's that?"
She grinned. "My dad, of course."
-
NOTES:
Yes, I'm still writing. Yes, that includes "Princess For Hire," for those who are waiting ever-so-patiently for that -- the two or so left :P
Life's good at the moment, if hectic, and things are a bit slow in my personal writing world, but we'll see if getting this out there helps to spur me on or not.
As always, thanks for reading, and commenting, and not ripping me a new one over my mistakes and whatnot.
Melanie E.