“We need you to do a job for us”. That was it. No pleasantries, no small talk, no idle conversation; he just slid into the seat opposite me and spoke, taking only a moment to glance down at my breasts. I followed his gaze, frowned, and sighed.

“I’m already doing a job, Davis. Can’t you see that? I’m following that guy over there- word is he’s suddenly changed a lot. Become handsome, popular with the ladies. Rich, successful. All the usual shit. I’m thinking he’s either used someone else for a little wish-fulfilment, or he’s a reality warper. If it’s the former, then I need to track his source the hell down and see if they’re registered. If not, I need to see if he’s affiliated. Warwick says he isn’t with his guys. If he was with yours, then Bullock would have told you, and you wouldn’t be sat opposite me, staring at my boobs and wondering when I’m going to shut the hell up”

Davis smirked at me, sighed, and turned for a moment, fixing his eyes on the man for just a moment, before turning back to me. “No, he’s one of ours. Thompson helped him out, but he’s just a little bit of probability-altering. That’s where everything but the looks come from. He’s nothing powerful, but he could help us out in the-“. He paused, frowned, scowled. “Alright, Greenwood, that’s enough of that. Like I said, we’ve got a job for you. Top priority”.

He slid an envelope across the table, raising his eyes to meet mine, flicking his gaze over my face as though he was trying to see me in the woman’s face I was wearing. “So who was she?”.

“Starfire. One of my backups I like to keep handy, in case I ever need to get away from it all.”

“Shit, Starfire, I remember now- used to work with the Force, right? Uh..”

“Superstrength. Bioluminescence. That was just a bit of fun, really. I don’t know where they got Starfire from, but it stuck, so..”, I shrugged, and he nodded.

“So you decided to do covert ops by becoming one of the most famous women in the city?”

“Sure. But also one of the hottest, I think you’ll agree, and he seems to like hot women.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway. To business. Look at it”

“Alright, fine”. I frowned, but slid the pages out of the envelope anyway. The first page was a large picture of a pretty woman, smiling brightly at the camera- though judging by the shapes either side, this had been cropped from a group photo and enlarged. The second page held her details- name, address, occupation, known places of interest, that kind of thing. The third page was the usual empty report page they gave me, with enough space for me to make notes I thought would be important. So, it was to be the usual, then.

“We’ll transfer your usual fee once you submit the report. We need to know if she can be persuaded to join us, or if she’s going with Warwick and his group of madmen. Heroes indeed. Anyway, we don’t know what she can do, but word is she’s an electromancer. Possibly low level, possibly high level. Potential for development, but we need to know how much. You’re to keep surveillance on her as long as you can. Approach her if you think it’ll help. I don’t think I need to tell you how much we need this one, Greenwood”, he regarded me gravely, then continued. “You’re the best shapeshifter in the city, so we know you’ll deliver. Oh, one more thing- Bullock says to, and I quote, just be yourself. Don’t go in too flashy, but don’t go too plain, either. We’ll contact you again. Enjoy your meal”

With that, he stood and left, disappearing as suddenly as he’d left. God, I hated teleporters.

There was a strange sort of irony in his instructions, I thought, as I wandered along the street towards one of my safehouses. Just be yourself. Did he know who I was? Did I know who I was? I’d spent so long running from myself, being other people, that maybe I just didn’t know anymore. Maybe I knew, but just didn’t care. And he was wrong, too, in another way. I was the best shapeshifter, sure, but I wasn’t a shapeshifter. Wasn’t just a shapeshifter, anyway. My power, basically, was complete control over every cell of my body.

Now, that sounds impressive, I know, and in a way, it was, but at times it was more of a curse than a blessing. Okay, I could shapeshift, but because I was literally altering every cell of my body, it was a slow, painful process. Bones would shift, organs would move, blood and flesh and viscera would morph and remorph, alter and switch. Anything that could be triggered with a simple alteration of the cells, a mutation of the DNA, a change in my very biological essence, could be done; I could grow wings, I could make myself stronger, faster, more agile, more powerful. I could grow extra limbs, I could give myself super-hearing, super-sight, super-smell. I could become any creature the imagination could conjure up. I could stimulate the synapses in my brain, and make myself incredibly intelligent, give myself perfect recall, or even pseudo-psychic powers. In theory- though it was something I’d never cared to test, I was immortal. Every cell could instantly regrow, could return in a fraction of a heartbeat. I could stop myself aging, reverse any injury, become invulnerable. Become immortal.

And yet it came with a price- anything I did would cause me pain and discomfort for varying lengths of time, in varying degrees of acuteness. A simple facial rearranging would leave it throbbing like a toothache; anything involving bones would leave them aching. Anything involving my flesh would leave it painful, as though torn or cut or burned. My internal organs, when changed, would bring me agony as though thousands of blades were slicing into me. And yet, with my abilities I could dull any pain, take away any hurt, except these. Nothing I could do would alleviate these, and I’d simply learnt to deal with them, to treat them as one might an annoying inconvenience.

I walked through the door, stripping clothes as I headed towards one of the bedrooms, until, as I passed through the doorway, I was naked. I studied myself in the mirror, slipping my eyes over the breast, the hips, the curves I’d taken so long to perfectly cultivate, and then closed my eyes as I held an image in my mind. For a few seconds I changed it, making the hair a little short, the legs a little longer, the body a little leaner- and then I released the image, surrendering it to my body to change.

The pain began in my extremities- fingers, toes- then crept along my limbs until it reached my body. At first just a pins-and-needles feeling, it soon grew to a sharp stabbing feeling, as though every square inch of my body was being stabbed and hacked and sliced. As the pain drew into, and through, my torso, I gasped, jerked, and bent double, gagging and retching as my stomach rearranged itself. As my lungs changed, my breath suddenly stopped, then started again as I gasped for air. As my heart altered, I felt myself still completely, just for a moment, then became myself again as it beat once more. As it reached my throat, I felt my vocal cords burst and reform; as it moved higher, my face melted and reshaped, my eyes exploded and then rejoined, my scalp burned as new hair forced itself through my pores.

And then it was done, and I opened my eyes, blinking.

I looked…normal. Or as normal as I could be. I was tall, but not overly so. I was perhaps of average build, with strong shoulders and a slight paunch that suggested some adolescent athleticism that had been left to grow into laziness and age. My eyes were a brilliant aquamarine, bright and intelligent beneath a quizzical brow. My nose was long and aquiline; my mouth quirked up permanently at one corner, as though I were permanently on the verge of doing something mischievous. My skin was lightly-tanned, my fingers barely-calloused, my muscles lightly-defined. Mine was the body of a man who kept himself in shape, but never exerted himself. My hair was slightly curly, and a light chestnut colour, complementing the blue eyes perfectly. I was myself, or a stylised version of how I might have grown up to be in a perfect world.

I opened my mouth and spoke, and the words came out in a clear baritone, the accent something like an amalgamation of several mid-European countries. Vaguely Slavic, with a hint of a lilt and a burr on several words that made it sound perhaps more exotic than it might otherwise have been.

I dressed swiftly, in clothes deliberately made to make me blend in; a crumpled blue shirt, a grey suit, worn shiny at the knees and elbows with us. A tie, deliberately done crooked and uneven. Shoes deliberately scuffed at the toes, and a briefcase cracked around the handle. Everything I needed to portray someone completely unnoticeable. Into the briefcase I slid a laptop; into the jacket, I put a wallet, a phone, all the usual little bits and pieces one might find on someone.

That done, I left the place, and headed to find her.

When I entered, it was quiet- a few customers here and there, but nobody paid me much attention as I wandered to a table in the corner and took a seat, making sure I could see as much of the room as possible. As I unpacked papers and the computer from the case, I noticed her sat at the bar, and smiled to myself as I began to make my observations. I was on strict orders not to approach her, not to talk to her, not to go anywhere near her; if she was anywhere near as good as they said she was, she'd make me as soon as I tried.

Still, though, there were no rules against being near her, were there? And, after all, if she was as good as they'd said she was, she'd come to me, instead of me to her.

I straightened the tie- not too much, just enough to be a little neater than it had been- and slid myself into a seat at the bar, ordering something cheap and weak, and settled in to play the waiting game.

So I don't really have a plot idea for this, other than the woman he's after is someone who a) has powers, and b) is wanted by the head of the shadowy organisation he works for. Anything else is up for grabs, and fair game. Will she be good? Will she be bad? What can she do? What hijinks can the two of them get up to? Tune in next time to find out. Same bat-time. Same bat-channel.

Quick note: I may have lied up there. I have a sort of plot: basically, my guy uses his shapeshifting abilities to infiltrate places- teams, locations, etc- and scope out people who have powers, who aren't 'known' or affiliated with the heroes or the villains. So this woman he's after has powers, and is known to be powerful, but it isn't quite known which side she's coming down on. His job's to figure out what she's more likely to do, and influence her towards or away from it.
God, the more I write the worse that sounds. Whoops.

I won't post limits, but nothing too weird or out there, please- I figure this'll be heavily plot-and-character driven anyway, so actual fucking and whatever will probably take a major backseat anyway, and that that there is will probably end up being pretty vanilla.

As ever, if this is up, I'm still interested.

BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS

So you've read all that, and you're thinking 'you know what, this sounds utterly shit, Bertie, what else you got for me?'. Well you're in luck, dear reader, because I'm a fucking superhero fanatic.
So here's a list of other characters I've created concepts of, but done nothing with, in case you want to do something with one of those:

Tactician- able to see how things will go. Incredible tactical knowledge, minor clairvoyance.

Sightjacker- able to see the viewpoint of anything that can see; cameras, people, bugs, birds, etc

The Plagiarist- able to reproduce anything that has ever, does, and will ever, exist.

Blender- can shapeshift/become invisible to blend in with background. Is always average.

Marionette- can control people like puppets. Sometimes controls corpses. Sometimes uses mind control only, sometimes gestures.

Keyhole- can open any door, walk through walls. Sort of like teleportation.

Spectre- thinks he’s dead. Can levitate, become invisible, intangible, can use telekinesis to throw objects, telepathy to create sounds and voices. Creates a cold chill whenever he’s around.

Marconi and Belle; twins who can ‘tap’ into wireless signals, and see what’s going on; Marconi covers radios, Belle covers telephones. Both share internet traffic between themselves.

Fixit: can repair and upgrade anything, in any number of ways. Pretty much the janitor.

Bodgitt: can build pretty much anything out of anything; usually improvised weapons.Twin of Fixit.

Scarper: Superspeed, minor teleportation. Partner in crime with Bodgitt.

Boomtown: master of explosives; can create explosions of any size and type (time-delay, proximity, etc)

Youan: Can create clones of himself, basically making a one-man army.

Smoulder: Can control fire, but has tendency to burn self when cooking. Triplet with Sploosh and Sparky.

Sploosh: can control water, has fear of drowning. Triplet with Smoulder and Sparky.

Sparky: can control electricity, is a complete technophobe. Triplet with Smoulder and Sploosh.

The Seeker: Immortal Roman Solider, cursed to die over and over. Comes back in different bodies every time.

Inciter: can ‘incite’ emotions in people, but needs eye contact to do it. Kind of a bitch. Is actually a lesbian.

Le Papillon: Semi-immortal Victorian magician. More powerful than he realises. More of a dick, too. Completely aand utterly insane.

The House: Can alter the odds and probability of pretty much any event in the world. Has a secondary power of always knowing exactly the perfectly right thing to do or say. Morally grey.