Shimmer *The Seattle Superheroes*

Chapter Thirty: Only Her Hairdresser Knows for Sure

Chapter Thirty: Only Her Hairdresser Knows for Sure

Philadelphia; July 18, 2010; 5:20 p.m.

Humans love dressing up. Costume parties, Halloween, Theater—all favorites, and all involve putting on clothes to appear to be someone different. Putting on a costume allows people to be whoever they want, even if it's just for a little while.

Most supers wore 'costumes' to conceal their identity, but the shiny white suit was Shimmer's identity. Standing outside of Jess's closet as her new—could she call Jess a friend? Well, standing there as Jess threw clothes at her, Shimmer felt as if she were preparing for the greatest acting scene of her life. Jess seemed to think so, too, and was attempting to make it work by choosing the perfect outfit.

"We want it to be nice but not too fancy," she muttered, leafing through a rack. "Something feminine and soft, I think, so that no one looks at you and thinks, 'shit, that's one scary woman,' even if you do have your RBF on."

"RBF?" Shimmer asked.

"Resting Bitch Face," Jess explained, distractedly. "It's a real thing."

Shimmer wasn't sure if she was offended, but was saved from replying by another scrap of fabric flying past her and onto the bed to join the pile there.

Jess grabbed a few more hangers and came out. "Basically, we can't hope that people just won't notice you, because, between your hair and your accent, you're going to stand out. We just have to make sure that the only thing they're wondering when they see us is why two hotties like us are with such complete dweebs."

Shimmer couldn't help but smile. "And finding the right clothing is going to accomplish this?"

Jess shot her a playful glare. "Woman, if I wanted, I could put together an outfit to rule the freaking world."

Shimmer wasn't sure whether Jess's statement was true, but the woman certainly did have some talent with clothing. In the end, after nearly an hour of deliberation, Jess had stuffed a pile into a rather perplexed superheroine's hands and told her to change.

Said perplexed superheroine was now standing in front of a full length mirror, wondering how a simple line of black around her eyes drew attention away from her harsh cheek bones and stubborn jaw to such a point that, when she had passed the mirror a minute earlier, she had to pause to see who was in it.

Maybe Nash was right, she thought, both impressed and somewhat appalled by her image. I doubt anyone will think that that is one of the most powerful people alive.

"So?" Jess's voice pulled her out of her head. "Am I good or what?"

"I shouldn't have doubted you," Shimmer told her, too confused to be snarky. Jess had somehow managed to pull all of her hair back into a high ponytail, keeping it starkly out of her face before allowing it to explode in a mess of curls behind her—that alone seemed to change the planes of her face enough to hide her identity. Her white suit was gone in favor of a cornflower blue sundress, which was something that she would have never chosen to wear, but was so different from the white that she usually insisted upon that it enhanced the effect threefold. Then—the worst of all—was that dreaded line of black around her eyes. Sensing Shimmer's absolute dismay at the mention of makeup, Jess had agreed to limit it to eyeliner and mascara, but even that was almost more than Shimmer could handle. Her eyes—her sharp, grey eyes—were no longer harsh or threatening, but wide and innocent, and had somehow turned slightly blue.

It was revolting.

Gone was the most terrifying superhero to walk the Earth, and in her place was a young woman, college age, at most, with doe eyes and delicate shoulders. The kind of girl who would be offered help to carry a few bags of groceries to the car. The kind of girl who smiled at people on the streets and thanked them for holding doors for her. The kind of girl who sat in coffee shops and read, maybe, but definitely not the kind of girl who saved the world.