[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/iyJuAe0.png[/img][/center][center][b]This is an elsewhere story and does not affect canon...yet[/b][/center]
[center][b]“90’s” Aubrey Adkins[/b][/center]
[center][b] Earth-99[/b][/center]
[center][b]6:35 PM, January 8th, 2011[/b][/center]
	I still can’t get it wrapped around my head how I can still only wear a light sweatshirt in the middle of winter on Nautican Island. What’s even more bizarre is how you would find white heaps of snow coating the ground if you were to sail to the mainland. Although I have no clue whether the big wigs of this island are using some advanced technology or metahumans captured during this years Halloween riots, but the reason why is obvious. This island is supposed to be a refuge for people wanting to escape the bitter mainland winter, Heck, there even been a few days where it was warm enough to recline at one of the many beaches on Nautical Island’s shores.

 	Even though it was already getting dark, I took the back alley to enter the Lotus through its rear entrance so the club patrons wouldn’t harass me on my way in. For the last three months, I have tried to find a different line of work, but I swear that all the metahumans kidnapped during the Halloween riots must be on some sort of black list or something. I couldn’t even get a job at freaking Hooters! The pay at the Lotus can be nice at times, although I’m not sure it makes up for what it does to my dignity. From what I have heard from the other girls, things could be worse. The Lotus could demand a house fee that could potentially send us into the red on bad nights.

	When I passed through the back doors of the Lotus, the aroma of sweat and perfume mingled together smacked me in the face.  Our locker room was situated at the rear entrance so we could conveniently change before heading to the floor. Not having to dress like a hooker until we’re on the job helps us not be in compromising situations when we come and go (but especially when we leave). Nothing screams high risk victim like wearing heals, short-skirts, and glitter. Sure, most of us are metahumans, but no amount of powers can help you when someone jumps you at 3 A.M.

	While I made my way over to my locker to get changed, I stuck out like a sore thumb in respect to the other girls. If we weren’t working at a club, someone might have confused my co-workers as Playboy bunnies from their physical attributes. On the other hand, compared to them, I looked like a two-by-four. The owner and manager of the Lotus, a woman named Catherine, had a hand in the looks of her female employees, and I don’t mean that she’s selective in the application process. Rather, she was in fact a metahuman, too, whose powers are the ability to any person’s physical appearance. You might be wondering, if this is the case, why I look like my co-workers? Well, Catherine can’t say she hasn’t tried. However, my metahuman healing factor was causing some complications. For the first couple times, it took about a week for my healing factor to revert to its original state. But now, the changes that Catherine would make would only last less than 24 hours.

	“Rikki,” Catherine called me by my stage name. She stood in the threshold between the locker room and the rest of the establishment, tapping her toe impatiently against the floor. Every night when I was scheduled to work at the Lotus, I had to come in early so that Catherine could ‘work her magic,’ as she would put it. Therefore, I tossed my personal belongings into my locker and followed Catherine into one of the small side rooms attached to the locker room. Inside this room, there was a single table with a padded surface that looked like it belonged in the coroner’s office than a strip club.

	I lay down onto the table, while Catherine walked around the table and stationed herself on the side of the table where my head was resting. She then pressed her fingers against my cheekbones before activating her powers. Since I’ve gone through this process several times before, I’ve gotten used to the pain from my body being literally morphed. I blocked what pain still remained by closing my eyes and preoccupying myself with happier thoughts, especially the memories of my life before it was turned upside down by some madman’s desire to leave his imprint on humanity. When I no longer felt her cold fingers on my skin, I opened my eyes and checked what she did to me now.

	Since I had witness the results of Catherine’s powers several times before, I was barely fazed by my new appearance, even though she had morphed my body into a form more exaggerated than she had ever done before. I wasn’t quite sure how my now improbably tiny waist could support my upper body, especially how stacked I was, but that’s a problem for Catherine if the Lotus wants to make money off of me.

	Since I thought we were through, I began to sit up so that I could get off the table and clock in. However, I felt Catherine’s fingers grasp my shoulders and pressed me back down against the table again as forcefully as she could without hurting me.

	“We’re not done yet,” She asserted before placing her hands against my face. Just like last time, an acute pain permeated my body as, for whatever reason, she changed my appearance again. However, unlike the first transformation, I was shocked at the end result. She had reverted my appearance back to what I normally looked like. With a confused expression on my face, I kept glancing at Catherine and then back at my normal body. However, she didn’t say a single word about what the hell was going on.

	I decided to sit up and try to leave before Catherine decided to change her mind. But before I even took my third step, a pain that felt like what our manager’s powers caused flared up again, although this time is was far more intense. It was so intense that it caused me to drop to my knees as I winced in pain. I watched in horror as each individual part of my body simultaneously transformed into the various forms that Catherine had morphed them into each time she had used her powers. They kept rotating through the different appearances, almost like a twisted and disturbed slot machine. After the pain died down and my body stopped cycling through my past transformations, the resulting appearance began to blend itself together, resulting in a body that did not look like a patchwork of mismatched body parts.

	“Not quite the result that I expected,” Catherine admitted. “But I’ll count this as a success.”

	She then turned for the door and walked out, leaving me sprawled on the floor. What was the point of transforming me twice in a row? It’s pretty obvious that she would have more control over my appearance if she had stuck to her usual routine.

	After Catherine left, I rose to my feet and made my way back to my locker to get changed. However, before I passed through the door to the locker room, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror mounted on the wall in this room. God, I looked as if someone had used photoshop to make me look like a Liefeld artwork. How could this get any worse?