Girl Power Omnibus (Gender Swap Superhero Fiction) Read online

  “Their best ain’t much. Look what happened when they went up against that Dr. Robot. He sure gave them the business. If it weren’t for that kid, we’d all be screwed.” Harriet leans the chair back to dangle Starla’s head over the sink. Over the sound of the water, Starla can’t hear what’s going on in New Zealand; she hopes it isn’t anything too serious.

  After a couple of minutes, Harriet lifts Starla’s chair back up and then begins raking at her wet hair with a comb. “This city ain’t safe since that girl took over. Back in the old days, criminals wouldn’t show their faces, especially not in the daylight. Now they ain’t scared of nothing. Why last week my friend had her purse taken right off her shoulder. Where was that Apex Girl then?”

  “I don’t know,” Starla mumbles. She’s relieved to hear on the TV that Velocity Gal has arrived on the scene. Allison will be able to handle whatever the problem is. If she can’t, Elise and Robin shouldn’t be too far behind. But what if they can’t? What if something happens to them because she decided to abandon them?

  “Look at that girl with her boobs practically falling out. And those heels? Where’d they find her at, a whorehouse? She’s almost as bad as that Apex Girl. Now there was one I wouldn’t want anywhere near my grandsons.”

  Starla feels her face warm at this. She wants to explain she and Allison didn’t get to choose their costumes; the government issued them to the Super Squad. But that had been over a year ago; she could have done something about it since then, if she’d really wanted to. While she tries to tell herself she didn’t want to go through the bother, she wonders if another part of her had really enjoyed dressing up in that revealing costume.

  “Now look at that fish girl. You can practically see her privates against those leggings. Shameful.”

  “But she’s married, isn’t she?” Starla says, hoping to assuage some of Harriet’s anger.

  “Oh sure, probably to some fish. Those Pacificans ought to stay underwater where they belong. The last thing we need up here is a bunch of fish babies.”

  Harriet stops her diatribe for a moment to pick up a pair of scissors to snip at Starla’s hair with. Starla tries not to fidget too much; this is her first real haircut since she was a twelve-year-old boy, before her powers began to manifest themselves. Since then, she’d needed to go up to the Crystal Lair to use specialized equipment any time she needed a trim.

  Harriet keeps up a running commentary of the evils of the Pacificans while she works. In her mind, the government should wipe out Pacifica before those no goodniks can destroy America. It’s difficult not to fidget at this, as Starla’s anger begins to build. Except for Killer Whale, Pacificans never posed a threat to humans. Most Pacificans never even go to the surface, much less go ashore to seduce humans. Starla wonders how many times Elise has heard this; it’s no wonder she prefers to stay underwater with her family.

  “There’s that little punk who tags along with them. I don’t know what those girls are thinking putting kids in danger. That girl’s mother really dropped the ball there.”

  Though she can’t see the screen, Starla is sure Harriet must be talking about Midnight Spectre. She of course doesn’t know that Robin used to be a thirty-five-year-old man and even as a teenage girl is still the smartest fighter Starla’s ever seen. As for Robin’s mother, she died over twenty-five years ago. Starla bites down on her lip so no smart retorts can escape; this woman is entitled to her opinion even if it’s horribly wrong.

  After what seems like an eternity, Harriet spins the chair around. She presses Starla’s glasses into her hands. She puts them on and then blinks a few times at the reflection she sees in the mirror. Her hair is even shorter than when she was Anorexic Girl; Harriet has styled it into a thick helmet around her head. Starla pats it as if to make sure it’s real. “What do you think?”

  “It’s…nice,” she says. It will take some getting used to, but it does really seem to go with the old glasses and clothes.

  “I don’t suppose you want it colored? I know a lot of kids these days go in for that.”

  Starla considers this. Dyeing her hair would make it harder for anyone to recognize her. Then she glances at Harriet with her orange fright wig; she doesn’t want to end up like that. “No, I like it this color.”

  “Oh my God,” Harriet says.

  Starla thinks she must have said something wrong, but then she follows Harriet’s eyes to the television screen. Starla feels ready to faint as she watches Apex Man descend from the clouds.

  ***

  As soon as Allison gets on the scene, she can see these are the same robots she and Starla fought in Washington. The only difference is these ones are bigger, at least twenty feet tall. She wishes Starla were here to smash the things with her super strength. The only way for Allison to stop them is to speed around their feet until they trip trying to catch her.

  She does this for a while, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much good. The robots have already wiped out the buildings and have most of the people scrambling inland, towards the hills. She races towards the robots closest to the people. For a moment she has to stand still in order for the robots to lock onto her. Then she races off in a figure eight pattern around two robots. She gets lucky as one of the robots blasts another with some kind of energy weapon.

  It takes a few minutes for the robots to figure out her attack pattern. One bends down and then scoops away a chunk of ground like a steam shovel. Allison is able to swerve around the robotic hand, but another is already swooping down at her. Before it can hit her, something gold plunges into its wrist. There’s a surge of gold energy and then the hand crashes to the ground, trailing conduits and circuits.

  “Who are these guys?” Elise asks.

  “The same guys who hit Dalton’s convoy.”

  “Someone should tell them she’s dead already. Even if she weren’t, she wouldn’t be hanging around New Zealand,” Elise says. She snatches her gold trident from the robot’s wrist. “I don’t suppose you guys found Starla?”

  “No. I expect she’ll be sitting this one out.”

  “Great.” Elise dances away from a robot hand and then whirls around to smash the trident into its leg.

  They whittle the number of robots down, but more take their place. “Did you see where they’re coming from?” Allison asks.

  “It’s not underwater.”

  Allison looks up, but there’s no sign of a plane or spaceship or anything except a news chopper. Maybe they have some kind of cloaking device; Robin would be the one to ask about that. Allison gets her chance a few minutes later when Midnight Spectre’s jet appears overhead.

  “Can you see anyone up there?” Allison asks Robin.

  “The skies seem clear. I’m running the scanners on all spectrums, but there’s nothing here.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Hang back a second. I got a little something to try.”

  Allison watches the jet drop lower, its bomb bay opening. A silver, cigar-shaped object tumbles out. The moment it hits the ground, there’s a flash of blue-white light. For a moment the robots are still. Then one turns and fires a dozen missiles at Robin’s jet.

  “Looks like they’re EMP shielded,” Robin says.

  “Any other bright ideas?” Elise says.

  “I’ll think of something. In the meantime, keep them busy.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  Allison decides to try another tactic. She latches onto a robot’s leg and then begins to accelerate her molecules along with those in the leg. The effect is like a jackhammer that slowly shakes the leg apart—much too slowly. Just as the leg’s outer armor is coming off, another robot fires at her. It aims not for her, but the ground near her. The concussion of the blast sends her tumbling to the ground.

  Robots surround her and Elise. “Looks like we’re in trouble,” Allison says.

  Before the robots can open fire, Robin’s jet swoops down. A stream of missiles spew from the bomb bay to rocket towards the robots.
Allison and Elise seize the opportunity to flee. From the ground, Allison watches one of the robots raise its hand in time to snap the tail off Robin’s jet. The plane begins to tumble. There’s no way Robin can eject with the plane going end-over-end like that.

  A metal claw latches onto the nose of the jet, wrenching the nose assembly away from the rest of the fuselage. Allison follows the line attached to the claw to see a nearly identical black jet overhead. That must be Melanie, though she didn’t think Melanie was that good of a pilot.

  Then she sees a streak of blue and silver whiz through the robots. Allison’s heart beats loudly in her ears and her mouth turns dry to see Velocity Man standing before her. “Are you all right, miss?” he asks in Alan Bass’s voice.

  “Who…who are you?”

  “I’m Velocity Man.”

  “What? But—” She stops as she watches Apex Man streak down through the clouds. He drives through the head of a robot, coming out the other side without a scratch.

  “I’d suggest you go back with the rest of the refugees,” Velocity Man says to Allison. “The Super Squad will take care of this.”

  Allison wants to argue, but as she watches Apex Man smash the robots as if they were toys, she swallows her words. Elise comes up beside her. “What the hell is going on here? Who the hell are you?”

  “We’re the Super Squad,” another familiar voice says. Allison peers over Velocity Man’s shoulder to see Lord Neptune approaching. He points to Elise. “Where did you get the royal trident?”

  “I got it from my father, the king.”

  “That’s impossible. I’m the king’s son. It’s mine by right.”

  “The hell it is,” Elise snaps. “Where the hell did you guys come from?”

  “The real question is where you girls came from,” another familiar voice rasps. Midnight Spectre—the male Midnight Spectre—tromps up to them. He drags Robin by the ear like a naughty child. He tosses Robin down at Allison’s feet. She squats down to check on her friend. There doesn’t seem like any injuries to the girl.

  “Now is not the time to fight,” Apex Man says as he lands beside the rest of the male Super Squad. “Right now let’s clean up this mess.”

  “That seems like woman’s work to me,” Lord Neptune says with a sneer.

  “Why you—” Elise begins, but Allison puts a hand on her shoulder.

  “We can do it together,” Allison says. “Then we’ll go see Major Hall to sort things out.”

  But even as she says this, Allison is sure it’s not going to be that simple.

  Part 2

  Chapter 9

  St. Jerome’s used to be a Presbyterian church back in the 20th Century. Once the church closed, Greta and a coalition of local businesses turned it into a mission for the city’s homeless. Greta explains this as she gives Starla a tour of the building. Starla has seen most of the building during her previous visits as Apex Man, but this time she gets to see the more private areas like the offices, the kitchens, and the laundry room.

  As always it’s sobering to see the men, women, and especially the children in the dining room. “We get more than we can handle here. I hate to turn anyone away, but sometimes we don’t have a choice,” Greta says.

  “That’s awful,” Starla mumbles. She knows what happens to those who get turned away; they have to either find another shelter, or more likely they take their chances on the street.

  “Of course what we really want is to do more than give these people a meal and a blanket. Ideally we want them to get back on their feet, start contributing to society again. Especially a girl your age.”

  Starla’s face warms at this. “I’d like to contribute to society.”

  “I’m sure you would. We can always use another hand around here. I can’t pay more than minimum wage, but it’ll put a little in your pocket and give you a reference for later.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Starla says. Then she looks around at the other people, the really destitute people. “But there has to be someone here who needs it more.”

  “Nonsense. You need a job, don’t you? Much as I like you, I can’t let you stay in my house free forever.”

  “I don’t want to take an opportunity away from someone who really needs it.”

  “That’s why I think you’ll be perfect for this place. You’ve got a good heart.”

  “Thanks.” She takes the hand Greta offers to shake it. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m sure you won’t. Now, let’s get you back to the kitchen so you can get to work.”

  In the kitchen Starla receives an apron to put over Greta’s sister’s clothes. The apron is long enough that it goes all the way down to the floor. Greta pats her on the shoulder. “We’ll find you one that fits tomorrow. Today you’ll have to manage.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You know how to wash dishes?”

  “Yes.” Back in Rockford Starla had worked as a dishwasher in a local Italian restaurant throughout high school.

  “We can’t afford one of them fancy machines, so you’ll have to do it by hand. Bertha here will help you out.”

  Bertha is a fat, middle-aged woman with a permanent scowl affixed to her face; she and Robin would get along perfectly—or kill each other. The first thing Bertha does is grab one of Starla’s hands to examine it. She scoffs loudly. “These hands ain’t seen a day of work in their life.”

  “This is my first real job,” Starla lies.

  “When we get done, those dainty mitts of yours will get toughened up.” Bertha holds up a hand that’s so calloused and pruned it could serve as a baseball mitt. “This here’s a real woman’s hand.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Starla has to take off her sweater and then roll up the sleeves of her blouse before she jams them into the water. Dishwashing isn’t any different than she remembers. It’s still a tedious process, especially with the pots and pans that have dried-up gunk on them. When she tries to scrub those, she misses her superhuman strength.

  This reminds her of what she saw on the television before she left the salon. How could Apex Man be there? She had been Apex Man before the Feminazi used that alien weapon on her, so there’s no way Apex Man could be in New Zealand. The only explanation she can think of is that someone created a duplicate, a robot or clone of her male self. She ought to slip away from here to call the military. But then she’ll have to reveal what she has done to herself; they probably won’t believe her.

  “Come on, kid, we got dinner to serve in two hours,” Bertha grumbles.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Starla scrubs an offending pan harder. For now this is her only job.

  ***

  It’s a tight squeeze in Major Hall’s office for all seven of them. The men sit to one side of the room while the women take up the other side. Robin glares at the male Midnight Spectre, the impostor. She has her phone out to use its scanning features to search for signs of the man’s true identity, but so far he seems like a normal human.

  Major Hall looks from one group to the other like he’s watching a tennis match. “Well, gentlemen, I suppose the first question is where you came from.”

  “We were in a special prison on Titan,” Apex Man says. “The Feminazi had some kind of teleporter that sent us there from Dr. Roboto’s island. We were kept there by some of the robots until Rob found a way for us to escape.”

  “Bullshit,” Robin mutters into her hand.

  “If that’s true, then who are these girls?”

  “They must be plants. You said Dalton was a traitor. She must have created doubles of us to install as her agents.”

  “That didn’t work out so well for her,” Elise says.

  “Apparently she messed up the mental programming,” the impostor Midnight Spectre says.

  “That seems like a pretty convoluted scheme,” Allison says.

  “And making us all girls wasn’t convoluted?” Lord Neptune shoots back. He glares at his female self with revulsion. That is a point in thei
r favor.

  “Let’s settle down, people,” Major Hall says. “I think the first thing we have to do is run a full battery of tests on all of you.”

  “We were tested plenty a year ago,” Robin says.

  “By Dalton’s people,” Major Hall says. “I’m sure Colonel Storm will want someone else to verify those tests.”

  “Fine. Take your blood and DNA and whatever else you want. It’ll show we’re the real ones and they’re the impostors,” Robin says, glaring at the man claiming to be her.

  “If you’re supposed to be Rob, why are you so little?” Lord Neptune asks. “I mean how old are you, fifteen?”

  “I’m eighteen, you shit, and I can still take you anytime, anywhere.”

  “Rob didn’t have any powers, so the weapon worked differently on him,” Allison says. “The same thing happened to Major Dalton when Dr. Roboto used it on her.”

  “She became a man?” Velocity Man asks.

  “No, she got younger.”

  “Now that sounds convoluted,” the impostor Midnight Spectre says.

  “We’ll be happy to submit to whatever tests you require,” Apex Man says. Robin had forgotten how authoritative that voice could sound; for many people it’d be like hearing the voice of God himself.

  “Great. I’ll set that up. In the meantime, I want all of you to stay out of sight. I’ll run interference with the press. There’s no way to bury this, but we can try to stonewall them for a little while. I’ll brief Colonel Storm on everything to get his input.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Allison asks. “I can’t drop off the grid for another couple of months. Sally will freak out.”

  “Sally thinks I’m a girl?” Velocity Man says.

  “Yeah and it turns out Sally is a latent homosexual,” Robin says.

  “You little bastard!” Velocity Man shouts. He’s across the room in the blink of an eye. Allison wraps an arm around his neck. They struggle and strain against each other until Apex Man intervenes.

  “That’s enough!” he snaps loud enough to shake the walls. “The next one to get out of line answers to me.”