Chapter Two

:: Max ::

"Wow, this is so weird."

"Blink."

Max did as instructed, tearing up a little at the feel of the foreign objects in his eyes. He had never worn contacts before.

"Tilt your head back."

Three people were working on him. The hair stylist was making him the most nervous.

"So my swoosh…"

"Has to be de-swooshed."

Fingers massaged his scalp.

"You can't de-swoosh what was born to be swooshed. And the color…"

"Darker."

"Foot, please."

Max kicked out his leg. After some tugging, Max felt the heavy weight of what was surely a brick hugging his foot.

"What's going on?"

"Lifts in your shoes. You needed a little more height."

Max exhaled. He wasn't short. He hated when people insinuated he was short. Phoebe was great at making those jabs.

He wondered for a second how she was fairing in the next room. Then he heard the scream. He jumped.

"Don't move!" the hair stylist commanded.

"Bend your arm a little."

The contact guru pressed what looked like a temporary tattoo onto his bicep. Max couldn't make out what it was.

"—No! Get away! Glue it back on! I'll find someone to do it! You—glue my hair back on!"

A gorgeous woman with short light brown hair that framed her perfect cheekbones stomped into the room, looking around with the biggest, wildest blue eyes Max had ever seen. She was clutching what looked like Phoebe's hair. Her plump red pouty lips quivered. Her eyes finally landed on Max; they grew impossibly bigger. A panicked woman with purple hair ran in behind her.

"Miss Thunderman, it's going to be fine. We'll make sure your hair is back to its normal length, color, everything as soon as your mission's over."

"I'm a creature of hair habit. This is my hair!" Phoebe shrieked as she held up the dark locks. "Max, is that you?"

Max squirmed. He didn't like that question. He also didn't like that he had just thought the phrase 'gorgeous woman' about Phoebe. But more importantly, he was just as much a creature of hair habit. He was pretty sure neither of them would ever change their hair...on purpose. "Gimme a mirror. Someone gimme a mirror!"

No one moved to get him a mirror. He spotted one on a table in the corner and summoned it over with his non-tattooed arm. Wrapping his fingers tightly around the handle, he lifted it to his face.

His scream matched Phoebe's. Where brown eyes should be were green. Where his swoosh, his precious swoosh, used to be was nothing but shorter black spiked hair. He had a smattering hint of beard scruff to match thanks to a pill they had him swallow and a little scar over his right eye.

"Did anyone here ever hear of a wig?" he shrieked. "I didn't land in the College Hotties section of Superhero Today three times for no reason! My swoosh. My swooshy-wooshy…"

"All temporary. We can get you both looking back to your normal selves after this is all done."

Max stood up, yanking off the black style cape. He tried to take a step and wobbled. He wasn't sure how to walk as a six foot tall dude. At the moment, he felt a little like Frankenstein.

"How are we doing in here? Oh, you two look perfect. Just like Louis and Juliette except they have to wear those horrible orange jumpsuits. You get a top of the line wardrobe."

Phoebe stared at President Kickbutt. Her fingers tightened around her hair. "My hair," she said weakly.

"Once you see the wardrobe you'll get over it," the President assured her.

"I can't walk," Max complained. He staggered forward. It was only after taking two more steps that he realized he was actually taller than Phoebe. He hadn't been taller than her since they were kids.

"You'll get used to the shoes. Now, let's see," President Kickbutt did a full walk around. She glanced at the purple haired woman.

"Did you apply Phoebe's tattoo?"

"Yes ma'am."

Max didn't see a visible tattoo. Even as he warned his brain, it jumped to the question: where was it?

"The birthmark on Max?"

"Not yet," the shoe lift person said. "He got antsy."

"Well, get it done and we can proceed. Lorraine, take Phoebe to wardrobe and luggage."

"Back in the seat, Max."

Max wobbled back over and sat down as Phoebe was led out of the room. Max felt his stomach flip as he saw his hair on the floor. Shoe lift girl pointed at the shirt.

"Off."

Fifteen minutes and one strawberry shaped birthmark on his rib later, Max landed in wardrobe. Dress shirts and slacks won out over t-shirts and jeans. Max scowled.

"I'm going to look like the son of a vampire and a mobster," he complained as a couple sets of cufflinks joined the rest of the clothes in the brown leather luggage with the initials LD embossed across the front.

"You look very attractive actually," President Kickbutt said, marching into the room as was her usual entrance. "It's shocking that there's Max Thunderman under there."

"The ladies love Maxy T," Max countered. He went to run his hand through his hair only to meet hard spikes.

"Well now you are Louis DuBeau, age 22. Your supervillain name is Loo Boy. You excel in backing up toilets."

Max stared at President Kickbutt waiting for her to laugh. She stared back at him.

"I quit."

"You can't quit."

"I look like a guy whose ability is to back up toilets?"

"But he's also a math whiz."

"You can't say whizz when we're having a toilet conversation."

The President smiled. "It's these rare moments when I'm reminded why I actually do like you, Max. You've got to realize most villains don't have great powers starting out. They get there by stealing them. Superheroes work on refining natural talent. Big difference."

Max sighed. She knew how to inflate his ego. "Well, I know a thing or two about toilets. Pretty sure I can bluff my way through." He paused, a smirk forming. "What about Phoebe? Please let her be Poo Girl."

"Juliette's supervillain name is Limberette. She has incredible flexibility."

Max rolled his eyes. "Of course she does."

As if on cue, Phoebe back-bended her way over. The second she stood up straight, she patted the air where her hair should have been. Tears filled the blue eyes until she saw him.

Then she smiled.

"Ready Loo Boy?" she giggled so hard she snorted.

Max scowled. "Ready when you are Pigette."

"Not so fast," President Kickbutt said. "You need some more background on your personas. Then you'll be ready—stop that."

Max removed the finger pushing up his nose to mimic a pig snout. Phoebe stopped pretending to plunger an invisible toilet.

"Let's start with how you two lovebirds met…"