Switched Ch. 06 - Shaping Up

She was quite taken with that idea. "You would do that?"

I sipped my beverage. "Just for a few minutes. Maybe longer, some other time."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Here?"

"No one will know unless you scream or something."

Her eyes sparkled. "I accept! And thank you. What do I do?"

"It's easier if you close your eyes," I said. When she did, I closed mine and Switched us.

"Open," I said.

She did so, and hugged herself. She laughed, wonderingly, and again at the unexpected timbre of her voice. Taking a deep breath, she sighed happily.

I, on the other hand, was a little tipsy, and I hurt all over. I was tight, but trying to relax made my joints feel uncomfortably disarticulated. I was too warm. I wondered if she had any pain relievers or anti-inflammatories in her purse. How do people live like this?

I took a sip of mimosa. It was tolerable, I decided, if a bit muted and over-sweet. Francine and I toasted.

"Now where were we?" she asked happily.

"I was giving you the benefit of my wisdom, Young Lady," I said with mock sternness, and Francine giggled. Gosh, she even acted girly in my body.

"It's inspiring, seeing you in my body," I said quietly. "I hope to carry myself with as much dignity... please don't eat the butter."

She looked back at me with my gorgeous eyes and a pat of butter held in front of her mouth, the paper-foil backing still in place. With a sassy smile, she set it back down, but she was not done, not by a longshot. For the next half hour, she tried to get into everything. She ate a bite out of each roll in the basket. She played airplanes with her utensils. She tried to order a six pack of mimosas to go from the waiter, whom she hit on. She asked people at the table next to us if she could try their food! I spent the entire time corralling her, until finally I ordered the check and took her to the ladies'.

"I'm going to Switch us back," I told her. "Before you get me arrested."

"I just feel so good!" she exclaimed, gleefully. "You have no idea!"

"I'm starting to," I said, and rubbed my back ruefully.

She laughed. "Okay, go ahead." She closed her eyes, and I made the Switch.

Oh, this felt better.

"Ugh," she said with a smile. "Back in this old thing. Thanks for the loan, Darling. I think I'll keep that kind of thing to a minimum. It's too tempting!"

When we got back to the table I said, "I could do that for a living. Broker people like you with fit young ladies who need the money. Use their body for the weekend, that type of thing."

"They'd never give it back!"

"We'd have to put a collar on them or something." I smiled at the ridiculousness of such a thought. "Or keep them corralled in a secure facility."

"A brothel, you mean," replied Francine, and laughed at the face I made. "It's a neat idea, Chase. But it won't work. I hate to tell you."

"Why?"

"Your father is why. This kind of thing will be a media spectacle, and with that much attention on you, fingers will eventually be pointed at him and his sham of a son. He'll fight that."

"Well I can't start by destroying him. I need the business to give me the funding to destroy him."

"You've been through quite a lot," she said sympathetically.

I drained my mimosa. "I'm over it. I'm facing forward."

She didn't look like she believed me, but she didn't press it.

*

Fall Fashions

Jessica

It was a good thing the fall fashion lineup this year included hoods. With one of them and some large sunglasses, I didn't feel so exposed under all these cameras.

That was just for my sense of wellbeing. Those cameras were probably literally x-raying me. The people in the building probably knew down to the millimeter what I looked like naked by now, and had a better idea of what I had in my pockets than I did. This was the superhero big leagues; They probably knew the names and political affiliations of the people who made my clothes

The walls of the waiting room were bare but for the occasional video screen, where a cheerful-sounding woman with a soothing voice explained about a hundred different laws and regulations regarding Variant abilities. There was extensive use of that term, Variant. It was the official government name for us. It was approved because it wasn't as lopsided-sounding as 'Super' and not as insulting as 'Mutant'. Less inhuman-sounding than 'metahuman', too. My father had preferred 'Freak' but he didn't believe any of it. To him, everybody but good friends might as well be freaks. If supers had never existed, he'd have just leaned harder on other minorities to get his ignorant supporters riled up.

I'd been given a visitor's badge, which I was required to keep on my person, clipped to an article of clothing or other bodily protuberance, at all times. It surely had a tracker in it. Right now, it would be telling them I was sitting in that waiting room, the same thing that... let's see... six different cameras (that I could spot) were telling them.

There were a few people here. One was a seriously-aggrieved-looking woman of middling years, looking anguished and poking determinedly at a notepad, and a couple of guys I assumed were journalists. I sat coolly in my hood and sunglasses, wearing my Beijing-chic Gucci breathing mask, and waited. The soothing voice explained to me all the many things that could get me on the government's shit list, like sneaking explosives into the building in a body cavity, altering local physics constants, or using mental powers on a non-consensual basis.

There was nothing to do. For the purposes of safety, most of my possessions including my phone were in a little basket with the guards in the lobby. So I sat and thought, and dozed a little behind my shades.

At last, my badge buzzed. I shook off the dregs of sleep, stood, and walked to the lighted door, where an unseen agent buzzed me through and the badge helpfully told me to enter the second door on the right. "Reminds me of the doctor's office," I said aloud. I was sure someone was listening.

The room I was in was a small meeting room, walled in beige-painted steel plate. I knew this because the metal was visible through the scratched-in graffiti covering the walls. Other than that, there were a few indirect light sources, a couple of super-lightweight chairs and an equally flimsy table, and one of those water carafes that was part styrofoam, the kind I'd only ever seen in hospitals. No cups, though.

I waited.

I'd seen pictures of the inside of Stronghold Atlanta. Somewhere in this very building was a veritable Star Trek set in which people lived and worked. Here, it felt like the DMV.

I thought about those rules and regulations in the other room. I was probably in violation of them. I'd been thinking for fifty-five minutes and hadn't figured out how to use my power without breaking the law.

I waited some more. I wished I'd brought something to eat.

On the form I'd filled out when I got here, I listed 'Reason for Visit' as 'I wish to volunteer'.

I no longer wished to volunteer.

I got up and opened the door, mildly surprised to find it unlocked. As soon as I got into the hallway my badge started beeping. "I'm leaving," I told it.

I wobbled back to the waiting room on my heels and went with considerable difficulty, given my statue and unsteady fitting, through the heavy security door.

"No luck, eh?" asked the security guard who'd processed me in as he handed over my things.

"This place sucks," I told him, and left.

Outside, the bright sun blew away the unpleasant, stale, bureaucratic air of Division Zero, the premiere superhero team of the southeast. And so went my first attempt to contact them.

I went back to the condo, where Tawney was pacing and talking on the phone. I let her be and made some stir fry, and after a while she came and found me.

"Where the hell was your ass?" she asked.

"I tried to join Division Zero."

"Already? Without discussing it with us?"

I shrugged. "It didn't work out. That place is a bureaucratic nightmare. I'm going to rest up and try another way tonight."

"What are you going to do?"

Something so stupid you'll tell me no. "I'm going to visit them at work."

*

Rolling

Jessica

"Right this way, Beautiful," said Roger. He pretended to hold the door to the bus open so I could embark, and I pretended to be vulnerable to his charms. He looked leaner in person, and strangely more handsome, with his thick hair and strong jaw, but I wasn't into him. Frankly, I found it really strange to be around guys who weren't Bryan. Lucky for me, though, it doesn't take much to convince a guy you're into him when you're a pretty girl.

"Oh," I said wonderingly, stopping in the doorway and surveying the interior. Turning to him, I added, "I thought there'd be, like..." I smiled shyly and played with his tie. "Little bunk beds and stuff."

"That's the congressman's tour bus," he said. "This one's just for Press." It was the usual arrangement, rows of seats. I chose one near the window and sat, and so did half the reporters in the state. The bus ground into motion.

"Ooh, look!" I exclaimed, pointing to a pair of blue-lit motorcycles passing us. "Hi!" I waved to them, unseen. Turning to Roger, I added, "I feel safe already."

He slipped an arm around my shoulders and said, "You'll always be safe with me, Baby."

Gravely, in my high, breathy voice I asked, "Do you think the bad guys are going to strike? Is that why the police are here?"

"Keep your voice down," he replied, "co-anchors don't ask questions like that."

"Right," I replied slowly, giving him a painfully unsubtle wink. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I added, "they're coming for us, aren't they?"

"Could be," he shrugged, and squeezed my shoulders. I suppressed a shudder.

I wrinkled my nose. "Do you have any more of those breath mints?"

"Sure," he smiled, and shook one into my hand from the little metal container. He was puzzled that I didn't eat it, but knew better, by now, than to expect me to behave like a rational person.

"Why do those horrible women keep doing this?" I asked.

"They take issue with the state legislature's stance on reproductive rights."

"Ooh, you are so smart!" I perked. Then, "What's that mean?"

One thing I'd learned in my short career as a bimbo is that you can never lay it on too thick.

"It means, my dear, that they're angry about the new law that makes it a felony for a Variant to get pregnant in this state."

"And this Congress guy on the other bus made the law?"

"He was part of it. More or less."

I scowled cutely. "He's a dick!"

He chuckled indulgently. "See, that's a reasonable response. But trying to blow up his tour bus in the middle of the highway, that makes you a supervillain."

"Ohhhh."

It was another long ride. Trent from two bus trips ago got on a few minutes later, and he and Roger eyed each other like two bulls in the same pasture. It didn't help that I cheerfully waved 'hi' to him like we were old friends. I felt bad for them until I remembered the things he'd wanted to do with me in the bus bathroom. Ugh!

I was running out of reporters. If this didn't work soon, I'd have to change tactics.

My phone buzzed, Tawney texting, out again tonight? pls say you're safe. I know you said you need your own life, but we are getting worried.

I fired back, u no trust me?

Roger tried to glimpse my phone screen, but I tilted it away coyly and waggled a finger at him. Reporters sure were nosy.

Tawney sent, you're being all secret and we care about you.

Feeling a pang of guilt, I replied, ill tell soon, this is taking longer than I thot.

Roger nuzzled my cheek and I forced a giggle. He wasn't an unattractive man, none of these people were. He was just douchey about women and he...

I pretended to yawn. When he started to yawn in sympathy, I tossed the breath mint in his open mouth.

Dude had bad breath.

Brooding, I listened to him choking in the seat next to me. This trip, too, was going to be a bust, I just knew it.

I peered out at the countryside moving past, and that's when I saw them.

Graceful figures streaked past the bus on either side and press members were popping out of their seats, cameras swinging around, questing for news. The bus's engine growled as it downshifted. Blue lights swept the windows and Roger and I both pressed our faces to the windows. I hoped that was a phone in his pocket. It sure as hell wasn't a roll of breath mints.

Just like that, the figures on the road were past us. The supervillains were here, and I couldn't see them! What to do?

A police car was coming up fast on the left, the driver visible enough, and I decided. I activated my power.

I was behind the wheel of a police car now, having Possessed the driver, and I kept my foot down on the gas. From here I saw the campaign bus up ahead, as well as several supervillains skating along with us.

My first supervillains!

They each wore a different color of sleek, feminine body armor and were easily keeping up with the convoy on roller blades. Frickin' roller blades. These ladies had to have balls the size of cantaloupes.

As I watched, the one in red accelerated suddenly, crouching low. A long, sinuous shape emerged from her arm and as she passed the congressman's tour bus, it lashed the side, whip-like.

Where it made contact with the bus, jagged blue flashed and sheets of fat sparks flew forth. The skater dragged the chain down the length of the bus before breaking off, and in her wake left a long, glowing rent in the metal.

My radio had just told me the use of deadly force was authorized. Also, there was a ten seventy-six, which sounded important although I had no idea what it was. In the rearview, I saw another two cops approaching, and ahead were distant blue lights coming toward us. The other traffic hadn't taken long to clear out, so it was just us on the nighttime highways of the big city.

There were five skaters. Their manifesto video had been put on the Internet, and it was pretty straightforward.

There was a long and inglorious history of Georgia lawmakers on both sides being absolute stone-cold shitheads when it came to women. Their proposal to make it illegal for Variants to get pregnant was just the latest salvo in a never-ending war against reproductive rights and feminine dignity. Before that it had been abortion bans intermingled with lopsided parental rights and even a long, intrusive look at breast-feeding. Tonight's villains claimed we were all prisoners of these troglodytic lawmakers and their gerrymandered districts, so the only solution was to kill the motherfuckers.

They called themselves the Chain Gang Rollergirls. Sounded dumb, I know, but they'd already injured two state legislators and destroyed a whole fleet of SUVs.

I needed to Possess one of them to stop their rampage tonight, but to do that, I had to get close enough. Their helmets had reflective visors, so I wouldn't be able to see their faces. Without that, I'd have to be really close to Switch.

I accelerated, sirens blaring. They were abreast of the bus now and as I watched, one of them drifted toward it. Another turned to look over her shoulder. She shot over to the left and slowed, her chain extending and leaving a trail of sparks where it dragged on the asphalt, and looked toward me.

I wouldn't be able to Possess her if she killed me first.

I couldn't let her get that chain swinging. Fortunately it didn't look that wieldy, so I figured I had a second it two. I swerved toward her.

She had to decelerate or be sandwiched between me and the retaining wall. In the rearview, I saw her chain coming up.

Damn, she was nimble. She slid right into my blind spot, and when I looked over my shoulder, there was a flash of blue and the glass exploded. The rear pillars were cut, then the middle ones just behind the passenger seat. I ducked my head, screaming, and the hellishly buzzing whip-chain passed overhead. My seat's severed headrest fell into my lap.

There was a flash of green-painted body armor passing by close. I only had one shot at this.

I missed it. She was too far. The car still worked, so I mashed the accelerator. She was quick, but I had the superior top speed, and I slowly reeled her in.

I nearly peed when, thirty feet away and closing, I saw her look over her shoulder. Concentrating, I Possessed her.

Suddenly I was rollerblading on the highway. My right foot twitched, trying to press a missing gas pedal and I wobbled. Muscle memory kept me from wiping out. That, and this body's superhuman reaction time. The cop I'd just Possessed, behind me, freaked out and hit the brakes so hard I could smell rubber.

I was tall and fit. Despite all the exercise I wasn't getting winded. The skates felt smooth and there was little noise. Louder sounds were muted to a comfortable level. Bright lights, too.

A voice in my ear was saying, "Erin, hit the rear bus and give the pursuit something to think about. Lisa, use your mine on the lead bus. I'll get ahead and watch for those motorcycle cops."

A voice responded, "You betcha, Babe!"

Behind me, the cop car's roof was lifting away from it as it swerved. The tug I felt on my left arm was my chain, retracting quickly into a compartment in my forearm.

The first voice demanded, "Margie, goddammit, acknowledge!"

"We need to get the Hell out of here," I said, and began to close the distance between me and the other skaters ahead. I saw a whip snake out and strike the rear wheel of a motorcycle cop, who promptly wiped out. He skidded toward the guardrail headfirst until a second lash of the whip, unpowered this time, caught his ankle and diverted him from the collision before releasing.

"Don't you wimp out on me now, bitch! Now hit that follow vehicle!" replied the angry woman on my helmet radio. A chorus of voices agreed with her. We all leapt in sequence, front to back, clearing the police motorcycle and its rider sliding around the road on separate trajectories.

"I'm not a wimp," I said, "I'm just not Erin." They were forty feet away.

"Cut the shit! Robbie, get the rear bus. What the hell's gotten into you, Sis? Seriously!"

I assumed from context that she was talking to me, so I replied, "Someone with a real Variant ability has gotten into your sister, and you're going to listen to me because if you don't, I'll get into you next." I extended my chain and let it drag behind me.

"Do I mine the lead vehicle?" asked another voice anxiously.

There was a brief but authoritative string of curse words, then she said, "No. Abort mission. Repeat: Abort mission! Margot, hit the smoke. Meet up at rendezvous B."

They slanted right, between the two buses, and hit an offramp. I followed, and we zoomed up and around the cars ahead of us, and the whole group of us swerved onto the overpass, in the middle of traffic.

Everything slowed down. I saw it all with crystal clarity. To my left, a car was approaching. The driver was making the craziest face as she stomped her brakes, but it was still on an impact trajectory. I jumped easily, throwing my legs up and to the side, and slid across the vehicle's hood. In the next lane, a pickup truck swerved to avoid me and clipped the car next to it, but by then I was two lanes over, going with traffic flow and trailing the rest of the Rollergirls, who were planning to go left again, hitting the on-ramp and completing their highway u-turn.

Following their lead and this body's strangely involuntary reflexes, I jumped onto the back of a hatchback and skated onto its hood before leaping out into space.

I soared, in slow motion, bunny-hopping off the roof of a sport-utility and onto the one next to it. This one had a luggage rack, no good for skating, but my wheels retracted before I landed and I reached down, grabbing the rack securely.