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.