Welcome to Book III of Switched! I'm so excited to be returning to this story. Expect three to five more chapters, roughly once a week, until we're done with Book III.
For our returning readers, here's a quick refresher: Jessica is a super-powered Variant who can Switch her consciousness with someone else's or just move hers over and leave her body empty. Her first, accidental, Switch is why she's a woman, but she's embraced her new reality and a threelationship with her partners, Bryan and Tawney. After defeating a supervillain and convincing a few more to turn themselves in, Jessica has been invited to join Division Zero, the superteam protecting the Southeastern United States.
Thanks to icedragonmo3 for editing and suggestions.
Book III
Chapter 08: Paper Doll
Appetizers
I don't know what I expected on my first day. A speech? Yeah, that might have been good. A speech and a handshake, and maybe a nice hors d'oeuvre platter. What I got instead was...
I got smuggled into superhero headquarters.
At least they had a sense of humor,
I told myself. I was driven in the back of a delivery truck full of mannequins.
The trip seemed to last forever, but there was a wifi password written on a piece of tape on the wall and a little bluetooth speaker. By default, it played dramatic music like you'd hear at the beginning of an adventure movie, or during the part of the movie where the hero is strapping on all her guns.
By the time we arrived, the whole dramatic adventure music thing seemed kind of silly, which maybe was the point. It was really cool while I was putting on my costume.
I exited the truck, the superhero Paper Doll reporting for duty. I had on low-slung, skintight pants in Division gray, matching cowl, an equipment belt loaded with gear, gloves, boots, and a plain yellow tee. Pulling it all together was a floor-length duster scaled with armored plates and lined with pockets. It was fireproof and had an almost equally well-protected hood. Serious cheddar had been expended for this outfit, and Tawney had put in a lot of work.
I had no idea what was in half these fucking pockets.
This was a large, low, underground space that swallowed up echoes and light. Above me was the underside of Stronghold Tallulah and around me, the tremendous pillars that protected it from earthquakes. Each was large enough to swallow a city bus without burping.
There was a row of vans parked here, each marked with the logo of a different business, as well as a collection of civilian and municipal vehicles and even a big, yellow earthmover. Beyond, in the grey-lit distance loomed exciting, robot-like shapes.
I was greeted cordially by a group of smartly-uniformed military people who'd been waiting for me. Their leader was a tough-looking lady major whom I was definitely not going to call 'Major Babe'. She gave a nod to a lesser-ranked officer, who barked, "Honor guard, form up!"
I was unworthy.
It's the office, not the person,
I told myself. The honor guard fell into two lines facing each other, a lane of military discipline laid out before me.
"Honor guard, present arms!"
As one, they unslung very modern, very functional-looking rifles from their shoulders, then at another command that I couldn't distinguish from a very professional-sounding grunt, they angled them up and toward one another, making a roof over the lane.
"Welcome, Paper Doll!" trumpeted the officer with a fiercely proud expression.
There was something surprisingly powerful about such a ceremony. Walking their gauntlet of honor, I was overcome with a wave of gratitude and unworthiness. I'd never received this kind of attention and it was a scary thrill. I bowed profusely and blushed.
They reorganized into an escort formation as their leader became the unfailingly polite hostess. How exciting to meet you, Paper Doll. We've been expecting you, Paper Doll. Right this way, Paper Doll. Don't mind if I do. I noted her nametag: Chervenik. Much better than Major Babe.
I was ushered into an elevator but during the trip, it was hijacked. Some official override appeared on the display and it stopped on the next floor. We got out to allow a squad of tense soldiers, one of whom was carrying a flamethrower, to rush off to an emergency.
"Don't you have to go?" I asked the major, who was getting reports via earpiece and looking increasingly agitated.
"We have time," she said calmly.
We took the next elevator car while Chervenik received more reports and muttered responses into a mic. The soldiers, too, were getting reports on their communicators. One message must have been especially bad, because they all exchanged alarmed looks.
When the elevator door opened to admit another passenger, I hopped out quickly and blocked the exit. "Look, you've got an emergency. Go. I'll find my destination."
"Absolutely not, Ma'am," asserted the commander.
"Oh, no, really. I insist."
"Ma'am, I cannot—"
The doors closed and cut her off.
I've never lived in a building that didn't have elevators. Even the house I grew up in had one. One develops an instinct for them after a while.
I must have wandered the floor for five minutes trying to find the place. There were offices and what looked like a Marine recruiting station. A little sundry kiosk was staffed, but I wasn't ready to look like an ass by asking directions. Truth be told, I was realizing I'd made a dumb mistake, trying to let the soldiers go on to the emergency. They surely had their orders, which they would try to carry out, meaning if anything, I'd made them less available to handle an emergency, not more.
At last I stumbled into a lovely little reception room with colorful strands of paper dolls hanging from the ceiling.
There was also a soldier from my honor guard who immediately reported, "Paper Doll has arrived," to his communicator. To me, he said, "Ma'am, please come with me."
I was hustled out of the room feeling like a child who'd gotten away from her parents at the store.
"What's going on?" I asked him.
"I'm afraid that's classified, Ma'am."
"Didn't I just join the team?" I asked.
He gave me a pained look, clearly conflicted by some bureaucratic nonsense.
I took pity on him and offered, "Tell you what, I'll stop bothering you about that if you never call me 'Ma'am' again, cool?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"So tell me what's going on? Huh? Tell me."
He grinned ruefully. "Sorry, Ma—Sorry."
"Can you at least tell me where we're going?"
"I'm taking you to your quarters." He tried not to look down my shirt and failed, but he was a professional about it.
Yep. I'd misbehaved, and now was being sent to my room.
Great first day, 'Paper Doll.'
Ass.
*
El Agua
The quarters. Were. Ridiculous.
It was like an apartment on a starship. Everything in it was voice-activated, designer-made and virtually indestructible, and the bathrooms? Fuggedaboutit. The closet was already full of clothes, trainee jumpsuits, workout clothes, shoes, pajamas, and generic masks. The fridge was stocked. The walls, floor to ceiling, were video screens. The place was so clean I took off my shoes.
This was really happening! It felt like there was something fluttering in my chest.
On the counter was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and a little box. While I examined them, the box spoke in a muffled voice, saying, "Open the box please!" and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
But of course the box talked. I opened it and found a sturdy-looking, high-tech bracelet with a blank display. It looked even more advanced than the apartment. "What is this?" I wondered aloud.
"I'm a comlink!" it chirped. I'd hoped it would respond, but I didn't want to ask a direct question and look like an idiot. Alone in my room. I was actually afraid of embarrassing myself in front of a bracelet.
It was a darned significant item. There was one thing all official supers had in common, and that was their comlinks. It was as close to a badge as any of them carried. Any of us carried.
Flutter, flutter, went my stomach.
"Put me on, Hero!" suggested the comlink.
My hands trembled as I did so. It fit loosely on my wrist, but as soon as I got the clasp done, it contracted until snug. The screen lit up with the words "Welcome Paper Doll. Address this unit as 'Comlink'. For assistance, say, 'Comlink, help'."
"This is so cool," I breathed.
At once it buzzed and displayed, "Incoming call from Frank N Stein."
"Shit! Answer!"
The little screen showed a video larger than it, which was a neat trick. I saw the legendary hero himself, the huge, affable, patchwork superhero. Behind him, clouds swung around the sky as he maneuvered in the air, and flashes of the ocean were visible. There was a constant, low susurrus of radio traffic that Comlink thoughtfully reduced to non-distracting levels.
Frank said, "Paper Doll, glad you could make it—Watch your zone,
Puto Grande!
Sorry. Hectic day. We are all completely over the moon that you could join the clubhouse! You made the big time, Kiddo!"
"Thanks. Hi. This is all very new."
He made an intense face and it was lit momentarily by stuttering flashes of red light. He turned his eyes back to me. "What do you think of Lady Lorelei? Ain't she a dazzler?"
"I haven't met her. There's some kind of emergency."
"Well, you'll like—urrk!" The display shook wildly, showing flashes of Frank, his coat, the sea, and a dark green tentacle the size of an oak tree wrapping his midsection. "She's great!" wheezed the hero as he struggled. The display became a blur of alternating light and dark.
I tried to make sense of the action by listening to the chatter. I said, "Comlink, can you put this on the wall?"
"Great suggestion!" read my screen, and it became an arrow as the display appeared on the wall. It was accompanied by a good bit more information, including a control to turn up the background radio chatter. Hoping to make sense of what was going on there, I did so.
"¡Siguelo!"
"No, back up!
"Fuck shit fuck shit fuck! ¡Medico!
¡Medico!!"
"Got it!"
"¡Lo tienes!"
"¡Evitar el agua! Siempre!"
"Now, now, now! No, wait!"
"Forty seconds,
Papi,
hurry!"
"Make up your fucking mind!"
There was a loud, unidentifiable noise on the line, and then the chatter lowered in volume and Frankie was back on the screen.
"Anyways," he drawled, rolling his eyes in amusement. "You still with me, Doll?"
