All That Glitters - Part Nine by: Enemyoffun Mike Carter is the man about campus who lives life in the fast lane. He's quarterback of his college football team, well liked by the student population and quite a ladies man. But due to gambling, Mike has a money problem. To make ends meet he takes a job at as a security guard at a museum and things go down hill from there all thanks to a gold orb.

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Author's Note: Here's chapter nine and though it might be short its necessary to set up the rest of the story. There are some good quiet moments here that I like. I'd like to thank djkauf for the wonderful editing and DC Comics for their characters.

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Chapter Nine:

When I opened my eyes and looked around, I was a little confused as to where I was. The room was a lot smaller than my bedroom and it was light blue in color. I groaned and sat up, looking around a bit. I was on a queen size bed, which actually took up most of the small room. There were dark blue curtains hanging from the windows and replica prints of famous paintings on the wall. It looked sort of like the room a teenage girl might have if she was kind of anti-social and didn’t have a lot of friends. I looked about, trying to figure out how I got here. I rubbed my temples, feeling a bruise on my elbow and a pain in my left arm. I groaned, last night’s events coming back to me.

First, it was the nightclub and all the dancing. I had a couple of drinks but I was only buzzed. I think Bea kissed me. I touched my lips and smiled. No, she didn’t kiss me; she ravaged me. I blushed at the memory. Then everything kind of went bad from there. Bea and I knocked out a waitress, I took her uniform---if you can call it that---and I played Jane Bond. I didn’t do a good job at iit either. I got caught, met Ballard and the man who could shape shift into me and then I was almost killed in an alley. Oh god, the alley. I shuddered thinking about it. Those guys were going to burn the two of us alive and then something happened. It was kind of fuzzy but I think someone saved us.

A knock on the door took me out of my thoughts. Before I could say come in, the door opened and Bea slipped inside. She looked as bad as I felt. She was wearing a bathrobe, it hung open, revealing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. She walked cautiously into the room, moving with slow and steady steps. I knew the look; she was definitely hung over. Clearly, she had had a lot more to drink than I did. When she sat on the corner of the bed, she winced.

“I am never going partying with you again,” she groaned as she flopped on the bed, her head falling on my lap. She smiled up at me. “Tell me I didn’t act too crazy.”

I was shocked. “You don’t remember?”

She moaned. “Only bits and pieces, I’m not sure what’s true or not.” She laughed and clutched her head, apparently even laughing hurt. She had it bad. “Can you clarify some things for me?”

I nodded. “Only the stuff I was there for I’m afraid.”

“Did I order and drink things that I didn’t know what they were?” I nodded. “Did you and I make out on the dance floor?” I blushed at that one which got her blushing too. “Did I strip off my top and hop around like a kangaroo?”

“I don’t know about that one but I would have loved to see it.”

She smacked me as I laughed. “What about the alley? Did some guys really try to set us on fire?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. How do you tell a new friend that our first outing together nearly ended in tragedy? I teared up a bit. She leaned over and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

She smiled. “We’re ok, so something must have happened?”

She didn’t remember that either. It was kind of vague for me too, but someone definitely saved us. Someone in black, who fought like a madman and disappeared into the shadows. Then I remembered. He threw something at the light and it fell into my lap. I looked around quickly, practically throwing Bea off my lap. I threw off my covers, noticing I apparently slept in my underwear. I didn’t care. I was more worried about the metal thing; it saved my life. I looked about, fluffing the blankets. Finally, I heard a ting as something hit the floor. We both scrambled to the end of the bed to look. There on the wooden floor, lying like it belonged there, was what looked like a metal throwing star.

I bent down and picked it up. But it was different from a normal throwing star because it looked shaped like a bat. What the hell is this? I turned it over in my hand. I even went as far as pricking myself on one of the sharp points. I cursed, sticking my bloody index finger in my mouth.

“What the hell is that?”

I shook my head. “Some kind of throwing star I think.”

“Doesn’t look like any I’ve ever seen.”

I held it in my hand for a few seconds more. Regardless of what it was or wasn’t, the damn thing saved our lives last night and so did whoever wielded it. I’m not sure who that guy was, but he sure had our backs. It was kind of embarrassing actually, me being who I am and being rescued like that. You’d think I was some kind of damsel in distress or something. That didn’t bode well at all. I dropped the funky thing on the bed and continued to suck on my finger. Bea looked at for a few seconds longer then seemed to realize she came into the room for a reason.

“Do you want to take a shower first or should I?”

“It's your place, right?”

See that’s how out of it I was. I knew it wasn’t my place but I never went further than her living room before. So how was I to know where I was?

She nodded. “If I remember correctly, you and I were pretty out of it. We managed to stumble out into the street and get a cab I think. I’m not sure why we asked it to come here but I do remember you putting me on the couch.”

I nodded. I vaguely remembered that too. I had to carry her into the apartment because she was more out of it than me. Apparently, she was a little drunk when those bastards dragged her into the alley. So even if she could have used her powers last night there was no way to tell how accurate she would have been. She could have fried me and everyone else too. I shuddered, that was a scary thought indeed. After I dropped her on the couch, I think I might have stripped her off her clothes and got her into some semblance of PJs. Then I wandered off to her bedroom. I’m not sure how I ended up in only my underwear and on what I assumed was her bed. Looking around the room now I realized it wasn’t the room of an anti-social person but the room of a girl who used to be a guy only a short time ago. It was bare probably because it was in the process of being changed over. I glanced at the floor and sure enough, there were a couple of cardboard boxes stacked against one wall and a lot of shopping bags scattered about. I recognized most of the names on the bags; they were the stores that Bea dragged me to yesterday.

Bea left the room, apparently taking my silence as her go ahead to use the shower first. I slipped off the bed and followed her out of the room, leaving the funky bat star thingy behind. Bea’s place was a lot smaller than mine, which I think I mentioned before. What I didn’t mention was how similar it was in decoration, though. It was clear that a guy once lived here. Bea had the same chrome decoration sense but she didn’t have the glass coffee table. She did have the massive fifty-two inch flat screen though, complete with killer speakers. It was a sweet set up. There was a PS3 in front of it, the controller hidden away somewhere. Unlike our place, hers had a more open layout. The living room and the kitchen seemed to be one, which was kind of cool, an island the only thing separating them.

I wandered about, looking at the walls. There were still some guy things hanging there. The coolest being a pair of snow boards. On a little table beneath them was a framed picture of a guy and girl. The guy was clearly Bea back in her previous life. He was kind of cute, if you liked that whole dark haired, dark skinned kind of guy. The girl was a knock out though. She had almost white blonde hair and was wearing a light blue ski suit, a funky looking icicle medallion hanging around her neck. The two of them looked like they were on the slopes somewhere.

“Who’s the blonde chick in this picture?” I shouted as I heard her rummaging around in the bathroom.

“That’s Tora, she was my girlfriend from before” shouted Bea, over the water she just turned on. “She was the love of my life but she didn’t take my changing too well. She kind of ran off with some other guy. You would have hated her; she was a real Ice Bitch.”

I nodded. She definitely looked like she could freeze a man’s balls off just by looking at them. Staring at her made me shudder.
I wandered over to the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV. I flipped through the channels, landing on the news. I was half expecting to hear about my doppelganger again but instead there was a scene from the alley. I turned the volume up, my very favorite reporter, Rose, was talking, with the alley in the background.

“This scene behind me is becoming all too familiar in this Windy city of ours,” she said, pointing her arm at the alley. “Here we have the 1000's Club, owned and operated by wealthy entrepreneur and Chicago’s own, Henry Ballard. But last night it was something else. At 12:03 am, police responded to a disturbance call. When they arrived, they found three unidentified individuals, bound and hanging by their feet from a street lamp nearby. There has been no word yet on how these three ruffians were strung up but this reporter has her theories.”

Just like the reporter she is, she didn’t bother to elaborate them, though. I groaned as she switched over to some supposed eyewitnesses. It was clear that the guy strung those three up, where Hertz was I had no clue. The slimy bastard probably slipped away or better yet, Ballard probably cut him down. I clicked off the TV and rubbed my temples. Ballard pissed me off before but now I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. All this time I thought he was trying to screw me over with the copycat and it turns out that I was just practice. That pissed me off majorly. This bastard was running around looking like me and the worst part, I had no proof. The only one who saw him do his face change was me and the people assembled in that room.

But that wasn’t the biggest thing that pissed me off. The biggest thing was that Ballard was up to something worse. I knew it wasn’t really any of my business but what that guy said to me last night seemed to hit a nerve: “…Find out what he’s got his hands into and then take him out”. It was almost like he was asking me to look into Ballard’s criminal activities for him. He seemed like the lurking type, why the hell wasn’t he doing it.

I groaned. My anger was interrupted by a knock on the door. I got up and wandered over, looking through the peephole. Hey, I’ve learned. There was a pimple faced teenage boy standing with what looked like a pile of mail in his hands. I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door but I didn’t take the chain off.

“Good morning, Be…you’re not Bea?”

“No I’m not” I said crossly, the kid looked at my bare legs then quickly back at my face. “Who are you?”

“I’m Chase, I live down the hall. Bea asks me to bring her the mail and paper in the morning.”

“Slip it through.”

He nodded, sliding everything he had through the space I provided. When he was done, I slammed the door in his face. Though technically I was still a teenager, I hated them. I wandered away from the door, setting her mail on the nearest table. I opened the paper as I walked back over to the couch, sitting with my legs underneath me. The headline was similar to the one from yesterday, OBAMA ARRIVING IN CHICAGO SOON. The article underneath went into detail about the President’s arrival and the possible hotel he was going to be staying at. I rarely read front page articles unless it was something exciting. Instead, I usually went to the Sports page which is exactly what I did now. Even though football wasn’t in season anymore, I liked to follow other sports, too.

I started skimming an article on the Cubs when I stopped. I quickly flipped back to the front page, remembering something from last night. It was in Ballard’s office, besides all the useless crap on his desk. I noticed the paper but didn’t really pay any attention to it. But there was something else too. It was a matchbook, from a hotel bar. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because I had a couple lying around, too. But this bar happened to be in the same hotel that the President was reportedly staying at. I flipped back to the front page and read the whole article. The President was expected to arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon. The article didn’t list his itinerary but it didn’t need to. For the last couple of months they yammered on and on about it on the news. First, he was going to have a brunch then he was going to play golf with the Governor and Senator Hunter. After that he was going to head back to the hotel to speak to some group there and then make his way to the convention center for his big speech, the reason he was here in the city.

I groaned. The stranger’s words came back again: what he’s got his hands into. Oh God, it made perfect sense now. Ballard was going to use Chiller to go after the President. It made perfect sense now, why else would he need a shape shifter. The bastard must have been turning into me as a trial run; “practice” is what Ballard called it. It was a pretty good bet that Ballard would have Chiller kill the President and take his place. But to what end? Then it hit me, of course. Ballard was currently running for Senator against Rick’s Dad, and everyone knew that Hunter was going to kick his ass, even this early in the campaign. Ballard didn’t want to be Senator; he wanted to be in the white house. What better way to do it than controlling the President himself.

This guy was more fucked up than I thought.

“You looked fired up about something,” said Bea as she came walking out of the bathroom.

I didn’t even notice the water shutting off. I turned to her. She was wrapped in a towel, using another one to pat her hair dry. She looked so damn hot and sexy that way. I felt my nipples get hard just looking at her. But I didn’t have time for that. I jumped to my feet, thrusting the paper at her. “I think I know what Ballard’s up to.”

She lazily took the paper and scanned it. “The President? You think he’s after the President?”

I nodded. “You and I need to stop this.”

She sighed. “Last night was fun but it was a onetime…”

I ignored her. I sniffed my hair and groaned. It smelled as if I’d been lying in an alley, which I had. I walked up to her pecked her on the cheek and gleefully ran toward the bathroom to take my turn at the shower. I turned back, blew her a kiss and ran inside.

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“Holy…” gasped Bea as we walked into my apartment.

I smiled. The apartment often had that reaction, especially with the girls I brought home with me. It was something to behold, I guess, if you liked big and swanky. I hated to admit it but I think Rick and I were a bit spoiled by his parents. Ok, they weren’t spoiling me. The apartment was more like a suite than anything else with a larger than average kitchen, a huge living room and a bathroom wedged between our two rooms. I’m surprised I never described it before. The walls were white, there was hardwood floor and only half the furniture actually came with the place. The rest---all the chrome and glass stuff---actually belonged to Rick. The only thing that belonged to me was in my bedroom.

But unlike Bea’s place, ours didn’t really feel lived in. It felt sort of like a large hotel room that the two of just happened to be staying in. We had the large TV and a state-of-the-art entertainment system but that was the only thing that made it feel like two guys---well one guy and one girl now---lived here. As much as I hated to admit it, Rick’s parents had a lot more to do with decorating this place than either one of us. I’m sure I’ve mentioned a few times how Rick’s Dad sort of dragged him around on a leash. Well he didn’t even let his son have his own opinion, it was sad really.

“How in the hell can you afford this place?” she asked as she walked over to a print on the wall, running her hand along it.

“My roommate is Senator Hunter’s son. His parents pay for most of it.”

I watched as Bea walked over to our couch and frowned at the broken coffee table. She looked at me, I shrugged and she smiled. Then she sat down, making herself at home. I watched her for a few seconds and then went into my bedroom. Skeets was floating in the middle of the room and when he saw me, he did that sigh thing he usually does.

“Where have you been?” he said, floating over to me. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“Seriously, don’t start with me.”

I tossed the little clutch purse on the bed. Bea insisted I take it, in fact she insisted I take all the clothes she bought for me yesterday. Which thankfully didn’t consist of the outfit I wore to the club last night, that now belonged to that poor girl I knocked out last night. She could have it. Unfortunately, I was stuck with the clothes that I wore home now. After showering, Bea ambushed me with a new outfit. Yesterday we actually bought several, the skirt and tube top being the ones she settled on for me. This morning, after my shower, she forced me into another tiny skirt---one made of denim this time---a top that made my boobs look two times bigger and a pair of modest heels. I talked her down from the three-inch ones. Never again was I going to wear anything above a two inch.

I turned and looked in the floor length mirror on my wall and groaned. I looked like a bimbo. I was starting to notice a pattern in the clothes that Bea liked me to wear. She apparently liked a slutty look on her friends. I had to laugh though because the girl staring back at me was definitely something I would have picked up. How disturbing is that. I somehow went from me to my kind of girl. I turned this way and that, groaning. Then as quick as possible I stripped out of the clothes. I found a pair of jeans on the floor and then got some modest underwear. I dressed quickly, wearing a turtleneck and putting on my sneakers. When I came out of the bedroom, Skeets in tow, Bea frowned a bit. Yep, she definitely liked the slutty look better.

“Are you going to explain what happened last night, now?” asked Bea, the suspense killing her.

She wanted to know everything that went on upstairs as she was downstairs embarrassing herself. But I didn’t want to tell her anything until I was with Skeets. As much as he annoyed me, I somehow thought of him as my partner now too. Ok, there I admitted it. I don’t think I’d ever tell him that though. So with both of them waiting patiently, I told them everything. I didn’t leave anything out, starting from the moment we entered the club---for Skeets’ sake---all the way to the point of being rescued in the alley. Both were quiet during the story but Skeets did “ahhh” a few times. What was up with that?

When I finished, Bea spoke first. “A shape shifting Meta, are you sure?”

I nodded. “He changed from my old face back to his own. It was really creepy.”

“What the hell do you think they’re planning?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Skeets, we both turned to him. “They’re going to replace the President. This all sounds vaguely familiar but I can’t quite place it. I have extensive historical databases but they’re still a little garbled from being in hibernation for so long.”

“Is there anything you remember?”

Skeets sighed again. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything but then his red light got brighter. I waited for him to say something but when he didn’t, I huffed. I hated it when people knew something but were unwilling to share.

“Well” I finally asked. “What do you know?”

“It’s still a bit fuzzy” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I can’t access that information.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re lying.”

Skeets didn’t say anything. I grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and threw it at him but he seemed to sense it coming because he already zipped out of the way. I lunged for him and he disappeared back into my bedroom. I got up to follow and Bea grabbed my arm, pulling me back down on the couch. I sighed, resting my head on her shoulder. She held my hand and the two of us sat like that for some time. Her holding my hand felt kind of nice. My heart starting racing and my palms were kind of sweating. It’s kind of funny because I’ve been with a lot of girls and none of them made me feel this way. I knew I felt something when I looked at Rick but with Bea, it was like the whole world slowed down when she looked at me.

Oh God, I like her. I’m not talking about just liking her enough to be a one night stand. I smiled; I really liked her. I bit my lip. I’ve never liked a girl before. I mean yeah, there a lot of girls that I liked but only because they were hot or had some body part I could admit while I had my way with them. But with her, the moment I saw her in that bar, I think I knew. I didn’t just want to screw her and toss her away. I wanted to spend every waking hour with her.

Bea brushed a strand of hair from my face. “What are you thinking about?”

I smiled. “Us.”

I waited for her answer and she gave it by tilting my head back and kissing me long and hard. My arms went up around her neck and I found myself being slowly lowered to the couch. It felt kind of strange, letting her take charge like this but it felt right too. I’m not sure why because I never would have let a girl do it to me as a guy. Now everything was all screwed up and frankly, I didn’t give a damn. We made out for a while, never going anything beyond some exaggerating petting. She did get her hands up my shirt though and played with my nipples a bit. God that felt good. We only stopped when one of us leaned on the remote and the TV clicked on.

“President Obama will be making an earlier arrival than expected” the voice of some female reporter said.

That caused both of us to snap up. It took us a few seconds to get untangled and look at the TV. Bea grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

The reporter continued. “The President was originally not planning to arrive until next week. But after some careful rescheduling, he and Mrs. Obama wanted to take in some of the sights. Though the new itinerary was not released to the press I can tell you that the President will be arriving at his hotel early tomorrow morning…”

Bea muted the TV. “That’s bad.”

I bit my lip. “Maybe not.” She looked at me, confused. “Think about it. Ballard was planning on the President arriving next week so he won’t be prepared for this change in plans.”

I got to my feet and laughed. Bea was still confused. “This means they’re going to try to kill him earlier than planned.”

I shook my head. “No, this means that the two of us can get to him earlier. Don’t you see? Ballard probably had the whole thing planned out; after all, he still had a week to execute his plan. But with the President coming early, that means you and I can get there before Ballard.”

“Us? Don’t you think we should contact the authorities?”

I sighed. She was right of course. As much as I wanted to run off and be the hero, this really was a job for someone higher up. I groaned because I knew what that meant. I beckoned her with me and the two of us went into my bedroom. She longingly looked at the bed, which made me blush. Maybe later but right now I needed to find something. I looked about on the floor, searching for the jeans I wore the other night. Bea made a couple of comments about the messy state of my room but I ignored her. Instead, I found my jeans and reached into the pocket, taking out the card that Mr. Knight gave me. I looked at the number, found my cell phone and gave it a call.

I got voice mail so I left a quick message. “Hi, umm, Agent Faraday you don’t know me but my name is Myka Carter, this guy gave me your card and told me to call if I had any problems with a certain FBI Agent. But this isn’t about him; it’s about a potential threat on the President’s life…” I then went on to explain everything I found out, hoping that I could leave a message that long.

When I was done, I thanked him for the time and clicked off.

Bea smiled. “Is that it?”

I groaned. “There is someone else but I definitely don’t want to call him.’

“This is kind of important.”

I sighed and went to the trash bin; luckily, I hadn’t emptied it for a few days. I rummaged around inside until I found the other business card I was looking for. It definitely belonged in the trash but Bea was right, I needed to tell others. Hopefully Broderick wasn’t as much as an ass when he was actually during his real job. I got the card and called the number. Of course, he answered, the guy probably had nothing better to do.

“Agent Broderick" he said, sounding annoyed.

“Hi, it’s Myka Carter.”

I heard him groan. “Calling to tell me how innocent that brother of yours is or are you finally going to cooperate and tell me where he is.”

I groaned. “My brother is innocent and can prove it.”

I took a deep breath and told him everything, not leaving out a thing. When I was finished, he didn’t say anything at first. Then he started laughing. I knew then that there was no way the son of a bitch was going to help us. I didn’t even wait for him to stop laughing before I hung up. Bea frowned, now she knew how pointless it was to call him too. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I took a deep breath and weighed my options carefully. There was no way we could count on Broderick and as much as I wanted to count on Faraday, how often did guys like him check their voice messages. Besides, would he even believe us?

“What are you thinking?” asked Bea.

I sighed. “We’re going to have to do this on our own.”