Girl Power Omnibus (Gender Swap Superhero Fiction)

by P. T. Dilloway

  “That was Storm, Dalton, and Stanford. They’re all gone now.” Stanford was dead while Storm thought she was a radar operator in Greenland and Dalton was probably a toddler after this latest use of the alien weapon.

  “It doesn’t matter to her. She loved Erek more than anyone—even me. I’m not sure she’ll ever recover from it.” Paul sighed again. “I think the worst part for her was that she wasn’t there. She was up here, cleaning up after Dalton and Stanford’s attack.”

  Melanie nodded but didn’t say anything. She supposed Paul was right that they couldn’t count on Elise to help them. But they had to do something. They couldn’t sit here and watch the world tear itself to pieces. Her watch beeped. “It’s feeding time,” she said.

  Since Robin had equipped the Super Squad’s headquarters, it had enough supplies to last a year. Though that had been calculated using normal humans. When it came to Neanderthal, they might run out of food next week.

  Melanie went down to the brig. She stopped at Hitter’s cell first. The girl was curled up in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees. Melanie tossed a protein bar through the bars. Then she turned to Ion Girl’s cell. She was the most social of the three; at the moment she lay on her bunk, reading Journey to the Center of the Earth; Robin had moved most of the library from her mansion onto the platform so anyone on monitor duty could have something to read.

  Melanie managed to toss the protein bar at Ion Girl’s feet. She looked up from her book. “Gosh, you’re really going to spoil my figure.”

  “Be lucky you get anything,” Melanie growled.

  Melanie braced herself before she went to Neanderthal’s cell. The cavewoman was slightly shorter, but her muscles were nearly as big. Then there were those breasts, each the size of Melanie’s head. Neanderthal refused to cover them up; she seemed to enjoy making Melanie stare at them.

  The cavewoman reached through the bars, trying to grab Melanie. She hurled one of the protein bars into the room. Like a dog, Neanderthal darted after it. Melanie tossed four more on the floor.

  She started back towards the control room. Hitter called out, “You look like you lost your best friend, love.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Hit a nerve, did I?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Robin didn’t do this. Even if she did, it wasn’t really her. Someone must be controlling her mind—”

  “You’re really reaching there,” Ion Girl said without looking up from her book.

  “I don’t care what you two think. I have to get up to the control room and—” She stopped herself as she realized she didn’t really have anything to do in the control room. All she could do was watch the world continue its descent into Hell. There was nothing she could do. She was a sidekick and Paul had learned a lot about fighting in three years, but he still wasn’t a warrior.

  The world needed the Super Squad. It needed heroes. But it seemed all it had now were villains, like the three in the brig—

  A smile came to Melanie’s face. She leaned against Hitter’s cell door. “I have a proposition for you girls.”

  ***

  Paul got to his feet, reaching for one of Melanie’s shurikens as she came into the room accompanied by three villains. “Let her go, right now—”

  “I’m not their hostage,” Melanie said.

  “Then why the hell did you let them out?”

  “You’re looking at the new Super Squad,” she said.

  “That’s right, mate, we’re heroes now.”

  “What? Mel, have you gone insane?”

  “Maybe, but what else can we do? The world is tearing itself apart. If we don’t do something soon, there won’t be a world to save.”

  “You honestly don’t think you can trust them, do you?”

  “No, but I don’t have to trust them. They’ll be good girls or the explosives I implanted in their necks will blow their heads off.”

  Ion Girl rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not my favorite form of motivation.”

  “On top of that, if they help us, they’re going to get full pardons.”

  “What? You can’t promise them that. You don’t have the authority!”

  “After we save the world, who’s going to argue with it?”

  Paul shook his head. “This is crazy.”

  “I know, but it’s all we got right now. If you don’t want to help us, I can’t force you.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Mel. You know I won’t leave you alone with these bums.”

  “Bums? You’re the one wearing the loincloth, pal.”

  Melanie stepped between Paul and Ion Girl before anything could happen. She didn’t think Ion Girl would have much of a chance really, not without her equipment. “Ion Girl and Hitter, go into my room and see if you can find something to fit. We’ll ship out in two hours for Focal City.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Hitter grumbled as she stalked away.

  “Are you sure about this?” Paul asked.

  “No, but I can’t sit here and do nothing.” She looked over at the control room displays. “Maybe if the rest of the world sees us fighting back, it will rekindle something inside them.”

  “Maybe.”

  Paul stood up. He put a hand on Neanderthal’s arm. “I suppose we should try to find something to cover you up.”

  Melanie watched them go. Then she sagged onto a chair and let out the tears she’d been holding in.

  ***

  It took Clownface only a day to consolidate her hold on Ledbetter Asylum. It seemed all she needed was a scalpel and then later a butcher knife to cow the guards. They, along with the doctors, nurses, and the rest of the staff, were crowded into the asylum’s gymnasium. Robin and those patients who didn’t want to join Clownface were likewise herded into the gym.

  Of everyone in the room, Robin was the youngest by several years. The others were all teenagers like Dr. Hanover or in their early twenties. Despite this, they spent more time crying than she did.

  While part of her wanted to curse the adults for not fighting back, she knew it wasn’t their fault. Dr. Roboto had said the real purpose of the alien weapon was to suppress the fight part of a race’s fight-or-flight instincts. Changing men into women was a side-effect probably unique to humans. Given that, it wasn’t a surprise the adults couldn’t find it in themselves to fight back against a scrawny girl with a knife.

  If she weren’t seven years old she could have easily subdued Clownface. At this age she might have done it even if she had her Midnight Spectre gear. As a little girl equipped with only a hospital gown, there wasn’t a lot she could do—yet. In time Clownface might give her an opening.

  She hoped that wouldn’t be too long or all the adults in the room with her might crack. Most of them were already suffering from bouts of sobbing and wailing. Others went catatonic, staring at nothing all day and night.

  To help her grasp on her sanity, Dr. Hanover had fashioned her hair back into its usual bun and applied makeup to her young face. Robin thought this only made the doctor look younger, like a little girl who’d gotten into her mommy’s clothes and makeup. She knew better than to say this or else the therapist would end up sobbing in a corner with some of the others.

  Since Dr. Hanover was the only one of the prisoners Robin actually knew, they stuck close together. Dr. Hanover seemed to enjoy her new big sister role. If they had been in a therapy session, Robin would have surmised the therapist wanted a daughter of her own to care for.

  Dr. Hanover finished combing Robin’s hair. Then she used a bit of cloth torn from the excess of Robin’s gown to tie her hair into a tight ponytail. She held up her compact so Robin could see her adorable face. “There you go. All pretty now.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you mind the long hair?”

  “It’s all right.” This was another way Dr. Hanover tried to keep her sanity, by still playing therapist to Robin. As with the hair and makeup, Robin thought this comical, but she did her part of playing patient.
“I only cut it before for operational reasons.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t because it made you feel too girly?”

  “No. I am a girl. I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. Every time I gotta pee-pee I remember.”

  “Don’t try to hide behind humor, young lady.”

  “Sorry.” Robin looked over at some of the young women—formerly men—who’d gone catatonic. “I don’t mind it anymore. Most of the time that old life seems like a dream. I look at old pictures of me as a man and I can’t really believe that was me.”

  “That’s very good. You’ve accepted yourself for who you are.”

  “I did. Should I start acting like a second grader now?”

  The doctor blushed as she no doubt wondered whether she should tell herself to start acting like an eighth grader. “I don’t think we’re to that point yet.”

  “You think it would help if I talked to the others? Maybe I could help them see it’s not so bad.”

  “I don’t think that would help right now. They need time for the shock to wear off.”

  “I guess.”

  The door to the gym opened. Clownface swept into the room. She wore a black sweater and black jeans with holes in the knees now. Somewhere she had gotten some white makeup to apply to her face along with black lipstick and mascara, the effect making her look like a mime’s daughter. Undercutting that impression was a bloodstained knife in her belt.

  “Up and Adam girls,” she sang in a falsetto. “I have some good news for you. We’re going on a field trip tomorrow. But we can’t have you gals going out like that. People will think you’re escaped mental patients.”

  Clownface cackled to herself. Robin braced herself for whatever sadistic game Clownface had in store for them. It turned out to be far more sadistic than Robin could have imagined. A blond woman gorgeous enough to be a supermodel—and who had in fact been one of the first to earn that distinction—sashayed into the gym. “Ladies, Ms. Cash here has been generous enough to donate her time to give you all makeovers.”

  “What does that mean?” Dr. Hanover whispered to Robin.

  “Nothing good.”

  Clownface turned to them. An evil grin came to her face. “It looks like we have a couple of volunteers to go first.” She bounced over to Dr. Hanover. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Dr. Kitty Hanover.”

  “How cute, you’re playing doctor with your baby sister. Now, both of you go with Ms. Cash so she can make you pretty.”

  Dr. Hanover’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t wanna go,” she whined.

  Clownface grabbed the doctor by her bun of hair. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, sweetie. Go on now.” She shoved the therapist forward. Robin grabbed her hand to keep her from falling down.

  They trudged over to Ms. Cash. The supermodel didn’t seem to remember her from when they had met in a secret government facility four years ago. She clucked her tongue at them and said, “I see two very pretty young ladies.”

  “Thanks,” Robin mumbled.

  A couple of Clownface’s goons followed behind them as Ms. Cash led them into a storage room. Robin grimaced at the sight of dozens of dresses piled up. She didn’t know where Clownface had gotten them; she had probably looted a department store. “Kitty, how about if your little friend waits outside while we talk?”

  Dr. Hanover shrugged; it wasn’t like she had a choice. A goon yanked Robin from the room. She sat on the floor with her legs crossed while she waited to see what horrors Ms. Cash inflicted on the therapist. She didn’t know where Clownface had found Ms. Cash, unless the supermodel had committed herself; perhaps she had been distraught about her lost youth.

  Robin waited for probably half an hour. Then the door to the storage room opened and out walked the former doctor. Instead of the beige suit she now wore a lavender dress with the kind of puffy sleeves and lace-trimmed skirt fit for a prom. Her hair was loose, combed straight back and held down by a headband with cat’s ears on top of it. This went with the only makeup she wore now: cat’s whiskers and the tip of her nose painted black. The ensemble made her look even younger, eleven or twelve instead of fifteen.

  “Hi,” she said in a timid little girl’s voice.

  “Isn’t she precious?” Cash oozed.

  “Sure,” Robin mumbled.

  “Can I go now?”

  “Now, silly, don’t you want to see how pretty your sister is going to be?”

  “I guess.”

  Just like that Dr. Hanover had cracked. Once her last trappings of adulthood were taken away, she became a shy, sullen teenager. Robin knew they were going to try to do the same to her. She would have to play along, at least for now.

  Cash led her into the storeroom. Robin wasn’t surprised when Cash braided her hair, tying a white bow at the end of each braid. She was more surprised the woman chose a light green dress and not pink. The supermodel studied Robin. “There’s one more thing we need to do. Have a seat.”

  Robin sat down. She saw Cash grab a tray of face paints. “What are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see. Close your eyes.”

  With one of Clownface’s goons in the room, Robin didn’t have much choice. She closed her eyes and went through some meditation techniques while Cash applied paint to her face. After what must have been at least fifteen minutes, Cash cooed, “Open your eyes, sweetie.”

  Robin gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. Instead of a simple cat’s whiskers, Cash had gone all out in painting Robin’s face as a tiger. Robin tried not to cry to see herself look like even more of a baby than when Dr. Roboto had made her Midnight Cutie with a ballerina costume.

  “Now why don’t you go out and show your sister?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Robin muttered. She trudged out of the room to see Kitty leaning against the wall. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” With Clownface’s goons watching them, Kitty must have felt the need to add, “You look pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  One of the goons grabbed Kitty’s arm while the other took Robin. “Come on, the boss wants you two.”

  They were paraded into the gym and then made to stand next to Clownface so she could show them off. “I’m sure you girls are all jealous of how pretty they are now, but don’t worry, it’ll be your turn soon enough.”

  Those who still had their wits shivered. Robin didn’t blame them.

  Chapter 10

  The good thing was that whatever had eradicated all animal life on Earth had left the food and water supplies untouched. Any fresh food had long since disintegrated, but there was still canned food that was edible. At least Allison might be able to keep it down, if she could manage not to gag with every bite.

  Eating a can of baked beans that was probably as old as her body appeared made her miss Mom’s cooking. There were a lot of things about Mom Allison didn’t like—her clinginess, her nosiness, her irrational hatred of Sally—but cooking had never been one of them. Allison reminded herself either it was this can of beans or she could graze on the weeds popping up through the pavement in Denver.

  She finished another spoonful of beans and then set the can aside. Sally hadn’t done much better with her can. “How long do you think these have been here?” Sally asked.

  “Fifteen years?”

  “We could always go find some lab equipment and do some carbon dating.”

  “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “We should probably find a lab to see if we can figure out what happened.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  They had spent days searching the western United States for any sign of survivors. They hadn’t found anything, not even insects. It didn’t make any sense to Allison that all living creatures could disappear and yet the plants were still so hearty and everything around them was virtually intact.

  This afternoon they’d rigged up a ham radio to send out a di
stress call to any survivors. For eight hours they’d taken turns listening to static before they gave up for the night. Now they occupied the penthouse in Denver’s sturdiest-looking hotel. With no power they had started a fire on the balcony for cooking their beans, not that it improved the taste at all.

  “What do we do tomorrow?” Allison asked.

  “I guess keep going east. Maybe there’s still someone in Atomic City or Redoubt City.”

  “Maybe,” Allison said, but she doubted it. She doubted there was anyone left anywhere at this point. They didn’t have any idea what had happened either. They had found a few newspaper articles similar to the one Sally had found, but none could identify who had attacked Earth or what weapons they used.

  So far it didn’t seem that the attackers had used a biological weapon. Or if they had, it was no longer active. Allison kept waiting for any symptoms to appear, but so far all she’d felt was fatigue from running up and down the coast.

  They tossed the rest of their beans over the balcony and then Sally put out the fire. They went inside, to the bedroom with its king-size bed. Two days ago they had looted a Wal-Mart outside Seattle for supplies: food, water, matches, and clothes. Allison took her pink nightgown out of her bag. It was a flannel one a couple sizes too big, which helped to keep her warm in this mountain air.

  She went into the bathroom, where Sally had lit a couple of candles. Sally was already changing into her nightgown, a plaid one equally shapeless. At the moment most of the nightgown was over her head, the rest of her clad only in a bra and underwear. Allison’s face turned red as she stared at the woman who until four years ago had been her wife.

  “Ally? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have knocked.”

  Sally had the nightgown on all the way now; she sat down on the bed beside Allison. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

  “I know, but it feels different now.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a couple more years and then I’ll get to deflower you all over again.”