Okay, I can tell that all of you guys who are reading this are like, who the heck is Phoebe? Where did she come from? Well, first of all, Phoebe was one of the heroes of the Loonatics. Second of all, this story is supposed to answer your questions about whom she is and where she is now. This is the story of Phoebe Pig.

ONE YEAR EARLIER…

One day, at the Victorian mansion of Acmetropolis, Phoebe leaves her home with a positive smile on her face.

"I'll show daddy…" she thought. "I'll show Madame LeCher. I'll show everyone in Acmetropolis. I'm going to show them that I'm number one. I'm determined to make myself the hottest fashion designer in Acmetropolis history."

Yes, that's right. Phoebe's dream was to be a fashion designer. All her life, she has been working on designs that would tickle everyone's fancy. Phoebe works at a fashion workshop, labeled "LeCher's Fashion Industry." Phoebe is the employee of workshop owner, Madame LeCher, who mostly makes Phoebe do chores, such as sweeping the shop and cleaning the designs. However, Phoebe wanted to step up her game.

There was a fashion show being held at the Acmetropolis Center, and after a terrible flood at the workshop, all of Madame LeCher's designs were ruined. Phoebe decided that she wanted to use her own designs. Madame LeCher laughed at first and said that she had no chance, but after seeing some of Phoebe's sketches, she reluctantly agreed to let her use her ideas and designs. She agreed that if she succeeds, she would promote Phoebe to a higher position in her job, and that people of the fashion institute would recruit her to be a student there.

Her life-long dream was in her hands today. All she has to do was wow the people. As Phoebe walked down the streets of the city, she happens to pass by her co-worker, Angie, who is her enemy and is secretly jealous of her.

"Why hello, Phoebe, how ya' feeling today?" she asked, showing a sarcastic smile on her face.

"I feel great. I'm on my way to the fashion show. I'm on the road to kick butt."

"Aw, are you sure that you are not on the road to failure?"

Phoebe gave her an annoyed look. "Nah, I'm pretty sure that I'm going the right way, Angie."

Phoebe kept walking. Angie followed. The Acmetropolis Center was right around the corner.

Angie giggled, "Well, excuse me for telling it how it is, Phoebe. "

"Well, can you just do me a favor and stay out of my way."

The blonde girl gave another one of her sarcastic smiles. "Aw, well don't you worry your twisted little tail, Prom Queen. Good luck. You'll need it." She turned to walk away, but stopped and laughed. "And trust me. You'll need A LOT of it."

As the jealous blonde girl laughed until her stomach cramped, Phoebe walked inside.

She met her boss, Madame LeCher, at the models' dressing room. Madame LeCher was a tall and old Parisian lady. She had one of her most exotic outfits on.

"Madame LeCher, how are you?" Phoebe greeted.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"They're right here, ma'am." She showed her boss the clothes. The boss smiled. "Delicious."

"You better not fail, Ms. Pig." She said, walking out of the dressing room.

"I-I still get that promotion, right ma'am?"

Madame LeCher just kept walking. "Just don't fail me."

Phoebe didn't know whether her boss was telling the truth or not, but either way, it didn't matter. Even if she didn't get the promotion, she would still get a full scholarship to the Acmetropolis Institute of Fashion. The show just needs to go according to plan.

About twenty minutes before the show, Phoebe was at the dressing room, making sure that all of the models had the right outfits.

"Okay, girls, twenty minutes before the show, break a leg." The tall models went off to the bathroom. At that moment, Angie showed up.

"Well, if isn't Little Miss Perfect. Are you ready to make a fool out of yourself?"

"Not now, Angie. I'm kind of busy…"

"Psh…busy doing what? Fixing up bra stuffers?"

"No, I'm trying to make sure that all of the stitching on the outfits is right."

"Wow, somebody's in a bad mood. What's the matter? Huh? Daddy didn't show up."

"That's none of your business…"

"What? He got better things to do? Like hang with that Isis girl…"

Phoebe was at the limit. She was angry this time. "You know what, Angie? GET A LIFE AND LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Phoebe walked out of the room. Angie just stood there.

"Geez, she really needs to chill." She thought. "What am I saying? She's a spoiled little brat. I'm tired of her. She ruins everything. Everyone likes her just because she's Little Miss Perfect and she just has to get everything she wants…"

Angie looked at Phoebe's outfits. She then made an evil smirk on her face. "But not for long...Sorry, Princess, but it's time you learn that you can't get EVERYTHING you want." She then took out a pair of scissors.

The show began right on the dot. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are proud to bring you, the 1st annual Acmetropolis Fashion Show."

The crowd cheered for a few seconds, and then the speaker continued. "This event is sponsored by the 'LeCher Fashion Industry', and now, give it up for the owner herself, Madame LeCher!"

Everyone clapped as the old women came up on stage. "Thank you, everybody, and hopefully, these latest designs would capture all of yer delicate taste buds, because this took months to organize, and I must give credit to my employee, Phoebe Pig, for using her creativity and time to make these beautiful outfits. So anyway, please enjoy the show everyone."

Everybody, particularly Phoebe, watched carefully as the runway models began to appear. Everyone gasped in shock of the outfits. They were all shriveled up and the models all looked half naked.

Madame LeCher fainted right in the middle of the crowd. Phoebe felt as if she was falling from a building a hundred stories high. She could not believe the sight of her once most beautiful outfits. She knew that her dreams were shattered to pieces. What did she do wrong?

When the show ended, Madame LeCher met up with Phoebe, with an ice pack on her head.

"I swear, Madame LeCher, this is not my fault. The outfits were perfect when I first gave them to the models. I…"

"Enough, Phoebe." Madame LeCher responded. "This situation will cost you DEARLY; perhaps a deduction to your payment should do just fine."

Phoebe was close to tears. "But…but I…"

"Perhaps you should give her the minimum wage." said Angie. The she-devil herself walked right in the room with a devious smile on my face.

Phoebe turned to Angie and suddenly realized that her ruined outfits had nothing to do with her. Angie did it. She snuck in the room and cut all of the clothes with scissors. Phoebe was boiling with pure anger.

"You brat! You cut up all of the clothes, didn't you!"

The devilish blonde just gasped. "Me? How could I do such a thing?"

Phoebe stepped closer to her, face to face. "Cause' that's the type of person that you are. A mean and rotten little sham."

"Phoebe!" shouted Madame LeCher.

Phoebe turned to her boss. "Madame, she is the one responsible for this! Angie snuck in the dressing room and cut up all of my hard work!"

Madame LeCher gasped. "How awful!"

Phoebe smiled and folded her arms. "I know."

"How could you be so cruel, Phoebe?"

Phoebe gasped. "WHAT?"

"Shame on you. Not taking responsibility for your OWN actions."

"But…but…Angie is the one who's lying! She ruined the clothes! She did it because she was really jealous of me! Can you not see it?"

Madame LeCher gasped. She muttered something in French and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that I have no choice. Phoebe, I'm afraid that I'm gonna have to let you go…"

This time, Phoebe's eyes began to water. "What? But…but… this is my dream. I worked so hard I… I…you can't do that!"

Madame LeCher began to walk away. "I'm sorry, Phoebe. You're fired."

Phoebe felt as if her heart just stopped. Phoebe just stood there while the two ladies walked away. Her world just ended.

Phoebe stood right outside the Acmetropolis Center. She sighed. "How can this get any worse?"

All of the sudden, there was a sudden explosion. A huge wave of light began to spread and it blinded Phoebe. She was about to undergo a painful transformation.