FIC: Free To Be Fierce, America's Next Top Model Superhero AU, Adrianne/Elyse, R
Title: Free To Be Fierce (1/2)
Author: Amy/fox1013
Recipient: mosca
Fandom: America's Next Top Model, various cycles, with a few extras thrown in. In a Superhero AU.
Pairing: In this one? Adrianne/Elyse (references Adrianne/Chris, Elyse/Marty)
Rating: R
Word count: this part is about 5,000 words.
Disclaimer: I own none of the people in here. As far as I know, none of them have superpowers.
Summary: The girls who fought Tyra Banks... and lived.
Thanks to annavtree, pearl_o, and pirateygoodness for loaning me their eyes.
i. The Girl Who Discovers Her Superpowers
Elyse finds out that she can fly right in the middle of a shoot.
Well, it's not so much fly as hover. But, from her position behind a giant pile of what she imagines they'll Photoshop into looking more like snow, they keep asking her to arch, and bend, and stretch, and she does and she does and they get the perfect shot and it's only after the photographer's done that she realizes she's been about four inches off the ground for the past twenty minutes.
She blinks, shakes it off. Schedules a few more shoots.
At home she practices, until she can jump up and kind of stay there, and move from room to room that way. It's pretty much walking, but taller. She works at it every day, which is boring, but, well, it beats updating her fucking livejournal, you know?
She only tries actually flying at night, because you kind of have to be outside for it. She stands on the top step of a stoop and tries to take off.
The first three times she plummets, but she gets better after a while.
When she runs out of jobs in Hong Kong, Elyse flies in to Portland to live with Marty. This time she takes a plane.
*
Adrianne discovers she can go invisible right in the middle of Geisha House. She and Chris are sitting with six or seven other semi-permanent members of the reality TV circuit, and Adrianne's perfectly happy to hear about chicks and blow, but lately all Boogie's talking about is his new restaurant in fucking Atlanta, and Chris is interested, because Chris is an idiot. And she finds herself wishing she could disappear.
So she does.
She realizes this because she's been staring at her reflection in her water glass, and while she's watching her own warped image fades away. She can still feel Chris's arm warm against hers, and her chair and the liquor heating its way through her system and everything else. But she disappeared.
It takes her a moment to take this in, and by the time she does she's been snapped out of the trance and she's visible again, but she's positive that it happened. It really, really happened.
And now Boogie and Chris are discussing the naked pictures of the chick from American Idol and whether or not they'd like to bang her, which is at least a conversation Adrianne can join in with.
"Fucking awesome," she mutters.
They all assume she's just talking about tits.
*
Adrianne and Elyse were never not speaking. Or at least, they weren't not-speaking the way that, say, Adrianne and Tyra weren't speaking, which was the kind of not-speaking that would have been accompanied with an actual throw-down bitch fight, if Tyra were a little less worried about her weave.
Adrianne and Elyse were just not-speaking in the way that you do when one of you lives in Los Angeles with your husband and the other lives in fucking Hong Kong. Because, as it turned out, phone calls from L.A. to Hong Kong were fucking expensive.
Fucking expensive, but Adrianne had had VH1 paying her phone bills, and Elyse had had a stream of steady jobs, so it wasn't too bad. Once they figured out the international dialing ("God, Adrianne, fucking Tyra could figure this out," Elyse says at one point), it was pretty simple; they only talked once or twice a month, to have their regular share-important-gossip and bitch-about-being-famous and maybe-offer-some-casual-phone-sex kind of rundowns, but it was nice that they still have them. They each called late at night, trusting that the other one was awake, maybe getting ready for work. They were both usually right, with the timing.
Which is probably why Adrianne sounds surprised when Elyse calls her at 10 PM, three days after she gets back to the states. It's one of those days where Elyse decided hours earlier that changing out of pajamas was fucking worthless, especially given the effort of unpacking her clothing from the boxes strewn across Marty's apartment. She's already found her cute underwear, her iBook, and her sex toys, so really, anything else is just gravy. Tonight Marty's out with the guys from the band, which means there's nothing to do around here except figure out where her friends are, and make sure they're as bored as she is.
She calls from Marty's land line, which probably isn't on Adrianne's caller ID, which explains why instead of the traditional "What's up, ho?" she just gets a cautious "Hello?"
Adrianne's husband was Peter Brady. They know from stalkers.
"Hey, slut," Elyse says.
"Are you- holy shit," Adrianne says. "Are you in the fucking US?"
"Yes, I'm in the fucking US."
"And you didn't fucking tell me?"
"Well, I was very busy planning the plane ride. And then having sex with my boyfriend. Whose place I'm at, by the way."
"Whore."
"Yes, Adrianne. Having sex with my boyfriend makes me a whore."
"No, calling me for phone sex when you're in your boyfriend's house makes you a whore."
"Whatever, he loves you."
"And I think he was great on SNL."
"Wow, you talking about my boyfriend appearing on television totally makes me wet." Elyse rolls her eyes. "You used to be so good about this."
"I'm out in public," Adrianne said. "You want me to get you off in public?"
"Who're you out with?"
"Chris and some of the guys."
"Dolce?"
"Les Deux."
"Of course you are."
"I saw the girls from The Hills the other day. I bet they'd love to hear me getting a girl off."
"I'm not just any girl. I'm third in line to your throne. If you somehow cannot fulfill your duties-"
"-by sending Tyra bitchy email and getting blacklisted?-"
"-and Shannon's, I don't know, busy with Jesus, then it's all about me. I bet the Hills girls would love to hear about that."
"They'd rather hear about your pussy than your fame." A long pause. "Joe Vance says he definitely would."
"Your friends are pigs," Elyse says casually.
"Of course they are."
"You suck. My hand's already in my pants and you're doing jack shit."
"Seriously?"
"No, I'm not actually wearing pants."
"Oh. Okay." A pause again. Elyse takes the opportunity to slip her fingers lower while she waits. "Hold on, I'm walking over to the bathroom so I can talk to you in private."
"Oh, good," Elyse says.
She slides her underwear farther down her legs. The bones of her fingers are sharp against her skin.
She's less than a foot off the ground, but she knows that by the time she's really worked up she'll be near the ceiling. It took her a few weeks, but she doesn't crash to the ground when she comes anymore. It's a nice improvement, really.
*
It's weird, in retrospect, that neither of them mentioned this new job to the other, but they talk about other things on the phone: clothes, and television, and makeup, and porn. Still, when Adrianne arrives at the stoop of the giant mansion, she's surprised to see Elyse already standing there, finger on the doorbell.
"Boo, you whore," Adrianne greets, and Elyse almost falls off the fucking step, which is so hilarious that Adrianne almost forgets that Elyse didn't tell her she'd be here.
"Oh my god," Elyse gasps. "You scared the shit out of me."
Adrianne grins. "Dude, you didn't tell me you'd be here."
"I didn't know you'd be sneaking up on me."
"I didn't sneak," Adrianne corrects. "I drove for hours, parked loudly, and walked up right behind you. Sneaking's a whole different game."
"You're wearing camouflage," Elyse points out.
"If it were better camo, you wouldn't notice I'm here."
Elyse is grinning now, just as much as Adrianne is. "I can't believe I have a modeling job in the states."
"How the fuck did you get here?" Adrianne asks.
"I flew."
"The nearest airport is hours away by car," she says. "I checked."
Elyse doesn't answer, which is weird, because Elyse usually has an answer for everything.
Adrianne offers peace with a smile. "I just didn't know Hot Doctors got invited to the same places as Reality Whores."
And it's really a peace-offering, because Elyse's medical career is still on indefinite hold until she has to stop whoring her looks for money. Right now, in fact, her medical career is pretty much limited to playing doctor with Marty. And over the phone with Adrianne, of course.
Which is why she doesn't mind making that offer so much.
"I'm a Reality Whore Hot Doctor," Elyse explains. "So sometimes there's overlap."
Adrianne's about to counter with something- something funny, she's sure, or witty, or at least charming- but they both stop at the same time, because can hear the probably-ancient locks on this door clicking open, and all of a sudden they're both frozen. A job's a job, even if you see old friends there.
Then the door opens, and Adrianne's so horrified she forgets to be professional.
On the list of faces Adrianne expects to see in her daily life, Janice Dickinson's has never, ever been one of them.
*
Janice takes them to her underground lair, which probably should shock Elyse more than it does, but hey, she just flew hundreds of miles- first by plane, then by just flying- to run into Adrianne Curry and then Janice Dickinson. Underground lairs are the least of her problems.
Janice is being Janice, which is to say over the top and loud and possibly drunk, but she's always liked Elyse best anyway, so it really isn't much of a problem. She's got a lot of really cool gadgets, too, the kind that the scientist part of Elyse would like to study. But right now, standing here with Adrianne, the supermodel part of Elyse is winning, and that part wants to pose with all of the shiny metal props and pretend to be a Bond Girl.
The room looks totally futuristic, with a clean plasma video screen surrounded by techie devices that Marty would probably be able to identify but which are a few years ahead of Elyse's skills, which are closer to blogging and photoshopping than to serious government dismantling. At least so far.
Janice stands back for a second while they take everything in, the weapons and the things that don't look quite like weapons and the things that don't look like weapons at all. Then she gets bored, maybe, because she pulls out a remote and presses a single button with a long, French-manicured nail, and the lights go dim and the plasma screen lights up.
"Girls, what I'm going to tell you will come as a surprise," Janice says. "We've been working very hard to keep this under wraps. But the world needs saviors, and you're the best we've got." She pauses. "Well, I'm the best we've got, but I need protégés. And no one currently at my agency is up to the task."
"See?" Adrianne whispers. "I knew my ability to work the mat would come in handy." Elyse elbows her; now is just not the time.
Tyra's face appears on the screen, filling it. Then it shrinks down until it's covering maybe half the screen, and to its left, Tyra's face from other angles.
"Dude," Adrianne says, "we know what Tyra looks like. We had to stare at her for like ten weeks."
Janice shoots her both a dirty look, like she's interrupting a planned speech, and as much as Elyse likes Adrianne, she basks in being the favorite for a minute. Adrianne shuts up, though, and Janice continues her spiel.
"Tyra Banks," she intones dramatically. "Thirty-three years old. Five feet ten inches. Weight..." Elyse doesn't need to look to know what her expression must be. "Fluctuates."
To her side, she knows that Adrianne is biting her lip to keep from snickering. Adrianne holds a grudge almost as hard as Janice does.
"All of this is common knowledge," Janice continues. "What you may not know is what happened in Belgium this year."
"Tyra was in Belgium?" Elyse interrupts. Usually she's pretty good about monitoring where Tyra is, just to maintain minimum distance.
"It's been well covered up." The image on the plasma screens fades away to reveal Tyra, in a dressing room, putting on her makeup. "Looks common, right? Just Tyra Banks, applying mascara? Well, look again."
This time, the camera zooms closer and closer in on her hand, until they can see every bristle on the mascara brush. It's glowing green. Not a lot. But enough.
"Radioactive," Janice says flatly.
"Shit," Adrianne says, "Seriously? What does that even mean?"
"Elyse, you're the scientist," Janice says. "Explain this."
"Um." Elyse squirms a little bit. There's being a scientist, and then there's being put on the spot by Janice Dickinson. "Did she get radiation poisoning?"
Janice rolls her eyes, like any idiot would know the answer to this one. "If she got radiation poisoning, she would have been on her talk show, complaining to the masses. No, this is far worse." Janice allows for a dramatic pause, and while she does, the screen switches back to the original shot of Tyra. But as they watch, the face morphs; it turns green, and Tyra's teeth develop into fangs, and her eyes look maybe even a little fiercer than usual. "She mutated."
"That's crazy," Elyse says. "Mutation doesn't work that way. In human beings, mutation-"
"Elyse?" Janice says. "When did you learn to fly?"
ii. The Girl Who'd Be Better On VH1
The truth comes out easier than Adrianne had expected it to, once they start talking. Elyse admits she can fly, Adrianne admits she can be invisible, Janice admits she's been looking for a way to take Tyra down since the fifth cycle of Top Model, and everyone feels cleansed or some shit.
The important thing is, Janice has weapons. A lot of weapons.
"Chris would fucking die for this shit," Adrianne mutters.
"Chris," Janice says, "will never find out."
"I tell him everything," Adrianne says. "We're in love."
Elyse snorts, which is what she does every time Adrianne says something like that. At the end of the day, there are two kinds of girls in the world: those who watched Brady Bunch reruns every day after school in their formative years and those who made fun of those who did. Elyse will always be the one who never had a crush on Peter Brady. Not even when she was eight.
She's hot, though, so Adrianne will forgive that.
"You're not just a girlfriend to a man twice your age anymore, Adrianne," Janice says severely.
"Wife," Adrianne mutters.
It's like Janice didn't even hear her. "You are a superhero. With great power comes great responsibility."
"Weapons?" Elyse asks.
"A secret identity," Janice corrects. She pauses, to consider what she just said. "Mostly weapons, actually. But also a secret identity."
"So which part is the secret?" Elyse asks. "Do we get masks and a cape?"
"We can't have capes," Adrianne says. "Didn't you see The Incredibles?"
"Yeah, but it was all in Mandarin, so it doesn't count."
Janice ignores this entire exchange. "I took the liberty of getting costumes designed for both of you."
"Will we match?" Elyse asks. "Is Adrianne going to be the Robin to my Batman?"
If either of them is a kind of dark sociopath, it's Elyse, so Adrianne's not going to complain about being labeled the Robin right now. She would like to make a comment about Elyse fucking her in the ass, but that seems like the kind of thing that should wait for when Janice is gone.
"Karen Walker," Janice says, "showed a collection of outfits inspired by 1930s comic heroes. I took the liberty of commissioning a few additional pieces. I'd like to see both of you in these." She presses another button on her remote, and a wall opens up to reveal two outfits in dry-cleaning bags. Then she steps back, waiting.
If there's one thing Adrianne isn't up for, it's trying on clothing for Janice's approval. But now that she's not aiming for a Revlon contract- which, P.S., she's still waiting to be paid for, thanks- it's easier to shrug off whatever criticism she can expect. She just peels off her clothing and starts getting dressed, not even looking to her side to see if Elyse is doing the same.
The costumes are cute, actually. She hadn't expected them to be cute. But they're the kind of cute that both Adrianne and Elyse can pull off equally well, which proves that no matter what Janice's flaws, at least she can read them well. The shirt emphasizes Adrianne's new boob job, which is great, because she has nice tits, and there's no reason the world shouldn't know that just because she's got a secret identity.
Both of the costumes come with masks, which don't actually do anything but narrow Adrianne's field of vision, and definitely guarantee that she can't wear her glasses. These don't seem like great qualities for a superhero.
She's about to point this out, when Janice rolls her eyes dramatically and presses another button on her remote. The picture of mutant Tyra is replaced with a picture of...
"Clark Kent." Elyse identifies the photograph correctly, but the way she's looking at Janice, Adrianne translates as Elyse for "The fuck?".
"What's the difference between Clark Kent and Superman?" Janice asks. "Glasses." She presses yet another button. "What's the difference between Bruce Wayne and Batman? A mask."
"So the people of Gotham and Metropolis are stupid," Adrianne says. "So what?"
"Don't kid yourself," Janice says. "The only difference between their people and our people is that theirs are cartoons and have an excuse."
Elyse turns to examine Adrianne. "You look like you're going to a party and looking for anonymous sex," she says. "And like you'd get it."
That's a high compliment, Adrianne knows. "If we weren't here with a mission, I'd bang you right now," she promises, and she's rewarded with one of Elyse's few genuine grins.
"Girls," Janice says sharply. They both turn towards her obediently. "You have to pay attention. We have a lot of training to do."
"Walking the runway while carrying weapons?" Adrianne guesses.
"Makeup around the mask?" Elyse offers.
"Hand to hand death combat," Janice says. It takes Adrianne a minute to realize that Janice is completely serious.
"Did you get Miss Jay to teach us?" she asks. "Because if you did, I'm going home."
"No," Janice says. "It's someone you've never met before."
Adrianne and Elyse exchange a glance. Which is kind of hard to do, when they're both wearing these face masks, but they know each other pretty well. They manage.
"Girls?" Janice says dramatically. "Meet Johnny Weir."
*
Elyse had been a figure skating geek once. Okay, not in the sense that she had ever skated herself, or really got into watching it on TV, even. But if it happens to be on, it's something she can follow, even in languages she can't pretend to grasp. Plus? Nearly everyone competing is hot and toned, the costumes are sparkly, and the boys always seem really, really gay.
Hey, her boyfriend is in an indie band, and she's a model. Gay boys are the bread and butter of Elyse's civilization.
After the fifth or sixth time that he knocks her on her ass without breaking a sweat, Elyse is totally ready to give him more credit than just being a toned gay guy with a sparkly costume. Johnny Weir can totally kick her ass, and look prettier than her doing it.
It's pretty hot.
Elyse is pretty sure that Adrianne doesn't watch skating, but maybe after Ms. Jay, this isn't that surprising to her. She takes the whole beat down thing in stride.
They spend maybe six hours with Johnny. At first he's just pummeling them, but finally, through sheer frustration, Elyse and Adrianne master the basics of Not Getting The Shit Kicked Out Of Them.
That's about when he introduces gadgets.
And, okay. It's one thing to dodge a punch. It's another to dodge a punch by throwing a hook and then zipping there through a tool on your belt. One is basic self defense, and the other is really fucking cool.
"Couldn't you just fly?" Adrianne asks Elyse at one point, proving that she is missing the entire point, which is that toys are so much cooler than actual abilities.
Besides, it's not like Adrianne's going invisible to get away from Weir or anything. Although maybe she should try.
Adrianne's more in shape than Elyse is, and by the end of the workout Elyse is panting hard. She spends most of the time that she's not fighting catching her breath. "This is awesome," is all that she manages during the first downtime they get, hours in, while Johnny's off to find out where, exactly, the scythe went.
He has a scythe, and they're going to get to play with it. Elyse has only held a scythe a few times, and that was maybe the best photo shoot she ever had, and definitely the best Halloween ever.
Adrianne shakes her head like she's not sure or something. "I feel like I'm Jay and Silent Bob in Mallrats, and I'm about to take out the fucking mall cops."
"You're an idiot," Elyse says. The grin spreads lazily over her face.
Adrianne, giggling, tackles her, and they're wrestling- Adrianne's hand is totally on her boob- when Weir comes back in.
"Girls!" he says. "This is not a VH1 reality show. You're superheroes now."
"Whatever," Adrianne mutters sullenly. Which is pretty unlike Adrianne, Elyse thinks, because she was always the one who was so gung-ho on Top Model. But on Top Model it was a question between winning and not winning, not between fighting Tyra and getting laid.
Actually, if you'd asked Elyse earlier, getting to fight Tyra might be the only thing in the world Adrianne would choose over getting laid.
But no. Johnny's back, with more than one scythe, so that they can prepare for scythe-y combat.
The scythe doesn't fit on their awesome superhero tool belts, which disappoints Elyse considerably. Adrianne seems to brighten once she's fighting with a giant weapon, though.
Proof that the world works in mysterious ways, maybe. Or, Elyse thinks with a wry grain, proof that there really is no god.
"Elyse!" Johnny says. "Focus. Tyra learned to fight with a scythe when she moved out alone and scared at seventeen. She spent all her time learning to model fashion and fight crime."
Johnny's right. She knows he's right.
But sometimes doing the right thing sucks.
iii. The Girl Who Finds Her Sidekick
"Out of every professional supermodel who would use radioactive mascara and turn evil," Elyse says thoughtfully, "I hadn't expected it to be Tyra."
It's dinner, and Janice had quite the buffet prepared for them. On Johnny's advice, they're bulking up; fighting crime requires a certain amount of energy available to burn.
"Who'd you expect?" Adrianne asks around a large mouthful of noodles.
"I don't know," Elyse says. "Naomi Campbell?"
"See, now you're just buying into Tyra's propaganda."
Elyse shakes her head. "This is serious shit, Adrianne. I mean, honestly, we're fighting Tyra Banks. Tyra Banks. Do you know how big that is?"
For once, Adrianne looks dead serious. "I've known how big this is since I started trying to find out why I won Top Model and got shit returns on that."
"I feel like we should get to start easier," Elyse says. "Like, we shouldn't fight Tyra on our first try."
"We should find out if Robin went evil," Adrianne says.
They both laugh, but they're kind of hysterical giggles, and the laughter disappears completely when Johnny, who's apparently responsible for supervising them at mealtimes, says "She did. But she's currently holed up in her secret lair."
"I'm sorry," Elyse says. "Robin has a secret lair? I can barely afford an apartment, which I'm sharing with my boyfriend. And he has a record deal and everything. How the hell can she afford a secret lair?"
"Well, it's not very secret," Johnny explains. "It's in the middle of a soybean field."
Never mind. The laughter isn't stopping anytime soon.
*
Johnny agrees that they could use the practice, so he convinces Janice to let them take her private spy jet to the middle of nowhere.
They stare out the window aimlessly, waiting for some sign of Robin's secret hideout. "If this is an elaborate set-up on Punk'd," Adrianne says, "I swear to god I am kicking Ashton's ass."
"We're not famous enough to be Punk'd," Elyse says. "If anything, this is a weird new version of The Joe Schmo Show."
As it turns out, it's not reality TV at all. Not by a long shot. In fact, they recognize they're near her lair when all electronic recording devices mysteriously stop working; clearly, Robin took being America's Next Top Model's pet devout-Christian-slash-tit-shaker harder than expected.
Robin's lair isn't just in the middle of a soybean field, it's also shaped like a soybean. And in giant glittery letters, across the top of the building, are the words "MISS SOYBEAN".
"It's not a very good secret lair," Adrianne observes mildly.
"Foolish is the model who advertises her fortress of solitude," Elyse agrees.
Maybe Adrianne's just elitist, or whatever, but she's America's Next Top Model, you know? Fourth place doesn't even come close.
And maybe Adrianne doesn't have a secret lair or anything, but she can chill in Janice's, which she's pretty sure is a better superhero choice than this anyway. Robin doesn't even have minions. She has a few genetically enhanced soybean stalks which try to block the entrance, but Adrianne and Elyse have the scythes they got from Johnny. It's not really any contest.
The fight isn't that exciting. Not really. Blah blah blah hand-to-hand combat, blah blah blah enchanted Bible, blah blah invisibility blah blah death blow- the best thing it could result in would be a really entertaining blog entry from Elyse, but since they're supposed to be using their secret superhero identities, it's not really anything to write home about.
On the plane home, Elyse seems almost dejected. "We were wearing masks the whole time," she points out. "Robin's never going to know that she was beaten by an atheist."
"That must be devastating to you," Adrianne says dryly.
"It's just kind of a crappy end to a crappy day," Elyse says, in a way that makes Adrianne feel really bad.
They're nearly home when Adrianne says "Hey, remember how you packed for the show?"
Of course Elyse remembers. It's not something she can forget. No matter how hard she tries.
"Remember how you brought..." Adrianne smirks a little. "Toys?"
If she's hoping Elyse is going to blush at the first mention of a few dildos, she'll have to keep hoping. "They put it on the fucking DVDs. Marty actually made the audio of that his voicemail for like a month. How could I forget?"
Adrianne appears to be ignoring her tone of voice entirely. "I decided to pack based on the Elyse Sewell School of Luggage."
It turns out it's not actually that hard to ditch the gay ice skater and the supermodel icon. Janice is having them stay at her place indefinitely, give or take: "a week, two weeks- however long you're going to need to defeat Tyra, I don't care," she'd said, sounding just about as drunk as Elyse had expected. "No one's getting eliminated, if that's what you mean."
They're staying in the same room in a giant king-sized bed, and practically as soon as they get there they peel off their uniforms (both of them are afraid enough of Johnny to hang them up before continuing), open up Adrianne's suitcase of toys, and go to town. It doesn't take long before Elyse is moaning loudly and Adrianne is talking even dirtier than usual.
Which is nice.
Nothing takes the edge off a day of defeating an admittedly-pretty-amateur villain like Robin like a few mind-blowing orgasms.
*
They have to learn how to control their powers, and Adrianne hates to admit it, but the more they work the more she's getting kind of jealous of Elyse's. Sure, she can go invisible, but it's not like her gadgets can, and even if they could, how helpful would it be to rappel with a hook you can't see? At least Elyse is getting pretty good at darting and dodging. And if Adrianne is on top, Elyse doesn't even float at all during sex anymore.
Johnny says they're making progress, but he says it in a voice that implies there's progress, and then there's defeating Tyra Banks.
Still, it's better than nothing.
Adrianne's been dreading their next meeting with Janice, because Johnny may be scary but she's pretty sure Janice could actually tear her limb from limb, suck the marrow from her bones, and laugh. So when Janice summons her and Elyse, as well as Johnny, to the lair, she's convinced it's going to be eliminated from the superhero pool, through a pit of vipers or something.
Instead they're greeted by Janice, whose hand is resting on the shoulder of a model.
Another model.
Kim. Kim, the cycle five lesbian.
Adrianne and Elyse glance at each other, then quickly look away.
"Dude," Adrianne says. "You weren't even on the show during her cycle."
"We bonded over a mutual enemy," Janice explains, which means that Kim hates either Tyra or Twiggy.
"What's your power?" Elyse asks her. Adrianne's not sure if Elyse is actually trying to be condescending, but if she is, she's showing some great effort there.
"I don't have a superpower," Kim says. "or, like, a job. So-"
"So it's settled," Janice declares. "Adrianne? Elyse? Meet your new boy wonder."
Author: Amy/fox1013
Recipient: mosca
Fandom: America's Next Top Model, various cycles, with a few extras thrown in. In a Superhero AU.
Pairing: In this one? Adrianne/Elyse (references Adrianne/Chris, Elyse/Marty)
Rating: R
Word count: this part is about 5,000 words.
Disclaimer: I own none of the people in here. As far as I know, none of them have superpowers.
Summary: The girls who fought Tyra Banks... and lived.
Thanks to annavtree, pearl_o, and pirateygoodness for loaning me their eyes.
i. The Girl Who Discovers Her Superpowers
Elyse finds out that she can fly right in the middle of a shoot.
Well, it's not so much fly as hover. But, from her position behind a giant pile of what she imagines they'll Photoshop into looking more like snow, they keep asking her to arch, and bend, and stretch, and she does and she does and they get the perfect shot and it's only after the photographer's done that she realizes she's been about four inches off the ground for the past twenty minutes.
She blinks, shakes it off. Schedules a few more shoots.
At home she practices, until she can jump up and kind of stay there, and move from room to room that way. It's pretty much walking, but taller. She works at it every day, which is boring, but, well, it beats updating her fucking livejournal, you know?
She only tries actually flying at night, because you kind of have to be outside for it. She stands on the top step of a stoop and tries to take off.
The first three times she plummets, but she gets better after a while.
When she runs out of jobs in Hong Kong, Elyse flies in to Portland to live with Marty. This time she takes a plane.
*
Adrianne discovers she can go invisible right in the middle of Geisha House. She and Chris are sitting with six or seven other semi-permanent members of the reality TV circuit, and Adrianne's perfectly happy to hear about chicks and blow, but lately all Boogie's talking about is his new restaurant in fucking Atlanta, and Chris is interested, because Chris is an idiot. And she finds herself wishing she could disappear.
So she does.
She realizes this because she's been staring at her reflection in her water glass, and while she's watching her own warped image fades away. She can still feel Chris's arm warm against hers, and her chair and the liquor heating its way through her system and everything else. But she disappeared.
It takes her a moment to take this in, and by the time she does she's been snapped out of the trance and she's visible again, but she's positive that it happened. It really, really happened.
And now Boogie and Chris are discussing the naked pictures of the chick from American Idol and whether or not they'd like to bang her, which is at least a conversation Adrianne can join in with.
"Fucking awesome," she mutters.
They all assume she's just talking about tits.
*
Adrianne and Elyse were never not speaking. Or at least, they weren't not-speaking the way that, say, Adrianne and Tyra weren't speaking, which was the kind of not-speaking that would have been accompanied with an actual throw-down bitch fight, if Tyra were a little less worried about her weave.
Adrianne and Elyse were just not-speaking in the way that you do when one of you lives in Los Angeles with your husband and the other lives in fucking Hong Kong. Because, as it turned out, phone calls from L.A. to Hong Kong were fucking expensive.
Fucking expensive, but Adrianne had had VH1 paying her phone bills, and Elyse had had a stream of steady jobs, so it wasn't too bad. Once they figured out the international dialing ("God, Adrianne, fucking Tyra could figure this out," Elyse says at one point), it was pretty simple; they only talked once or twice a month, to have their regular share-important-gossip and bitch-about-being-famous and maybe-offer-some-casual-phone-sex kind of rundowns, but it was nice that they still have them. They each called late at night, trusting that the other one was awake, maybe getting ready for work. They were both usually right, with the timing.
Which is probably why Adrianne sounds surprised when Elyse calls her at 10 PM, three days after she gets back to the states. It's one of those days where Elyse decided hours earlier that changing out of pajamas was fucking worthless, especially given the effort of unpacking her clothing from the boxes strewn across Marty's apartment. She's already found her cute underwear, her iBook, and her sex toys, so really, anything else is just gravy. Tonight Marty's out with the guys from the band, which means there's nothing to do around here except figure out where her friends are, and make sure they're as bored as she is.
She calls from Marty's land line, which probably isn't on Adrianne's caller ID, which explains why instead of the traditional "What's up, ho?" she just gets a cautious "Hello?"
Adrianne's husband was Peter Brady. They know from stalkers.
"Hey, slut," Elyse says.
"Are you- holy shit," Adrianne says. "Are you in the fucking US?"
"Yes, I'm in the fucking US."
"And you didn't fucking tell me?"
"Well, I was very busy planning the plane ride. And then having sex with my boyfriend. Whose place I'm at, by the way."
"Whore."
"Yes, Adrianne. Having sex with my boyfriend makes me a whore."
"No, calling me for phone sex when you're in your boyfriend's house makes you a whore."
"Whatever, he loves you."
"And I think he was great on SNL."
"Wow, you talking about my boyfriend appearing on television totally makes me wet." Elyse rolls her eyes. "You used to be so good about this."
"I'm out in public," Adrianne said. "You want me to get you off in public?"
"Who're you out with?"
"Chris and some of the guys."
"Dolce?"
"Les Deux."
"Of course you are."
"I saw the girls from The Hills the other day. I bet they'd love to hear me getting a girl off."
"I'm not just any girl. I'm third in line to your throne. If you somehow cannot fulfill your duties-"
"-by sending Tyra bitchy email and getting blacklisted?-"
"-and Shannon's, I don't know, busy with Jesus, then it's all about me. I bet the Hills girls would love to hear about that."
"They'd rather hear about your pussy than your fame." A long pause. "Joe Vance says he definitely would."
"Your friends are pigs," Elyse says casually.
"Of course they are."
"You suck. My hand's already in my pants and you're doing jack shit."
"Seriously?"
"No, I'm not actually wearing pants."
"Oh. Okay." A pause again. Elyse takes the opportunity to slip her fingers lower while she waits. "Hold on, I'm walking over to the bathroom so I can talk to you in private."
"Oh, good," Elyse says.
She slides her underwear farther down her legs. The bones of her fingers are sharp against her skin.
She's less than a foot off the ground, but she knows that by the time she's really worked up she'll be near the ceiling. It took her a few weeks, but she doesn't crash to the ground when she comes anymore. It's a nice improvement, really.
*
It's weird, in retrospect, that neither of them mentioned this new job to the other, but they talk about other things on the phone: clothes, and television, and makeup, and porn. Still, when Adrianne arrives at the stoop of the giant mansion, she's surprised to see Elyse already standing there, finger on the doorbell.
"Boo, you whore," Adrianne greets, and Elyse almost falls off the fucking step, which is so hilarious that Adrianne almost forgets that Elyse didn't tell her she'd be here.
"Oh my god," Elyse gasps. "You scared the shit out of me."
Adrianne grins. "Dude, you didn't tell me you'd be here."
"I didn't know you'd be sneaking up on me."
"I didn't sneak," Adrianne corrects. "I drove for hours, parked loudly, and walked up right behind you. Sneaking's a whole different game."
"You're wearing camouflage," Elyse points out.
"If it were better camo, you wouldn't notice I'm here."
Elyse is grinning now, just as much as Adrianne is. "I can't believe I have a modeling job in the states."
"How the fuck did you get here?" Adrianne asks.
"I flew."
"The nearest airport is hours away by car," she says. "I checked."
Elyse doesn't answer, which is weird, because Elyse usually has an answer for everything.
Adrianne offers peace with a smile. "I just didn't know Hot Doctors got invited to the same places as Reality Whores."
And it's really a peace-offering, because Elyse's medical career is still on indefinite hold until she has to stop whoring her looks for money. Right now, in fact, her medical career is pretty much limited to playing doctor with Marty. And over the phone with Adrianne, of course.
Which is why she doesn't mind making that offer so much.
"I'm a Reality Whore Hot Doctor," Elyse explains. "So sometimes there's overlap."
Adrianne's about to counter with something- something funny, she's sure, or witty, or at least charming- but they both stop at the same time, because can hear the probably-ancient locks on this door clicking open, and all of a sudden they're both frozen. A job's a job, even if you see old friends there.
Then the door opens, and Adrianne's so horrified she forgets to be professional.
On the list of faces Adrianne expects to see in her daily life, Janice Dickinson's has never, ever been one of them.
*
Janice takes them to her underground lair, which probably should shock Elyse more than it does, but hey, she just flew hundreds of miles- first by plane, then by just flying- to run into Adrianne Curry and then Janice Dickinson. Underground lairs are the least of her problems.
Janice is being Janice, which is to say over the top and loud and possibly drunk, but she's always liked Elyse best anyway, so it really isn't much of a problem. She's got a lot of really cool gadgets, too, the kind that the scientist part of Elyse would like to study. But right now, standing here with Adrianne, the supermodel part of Elyse is winning, and that part wants to pose with all of the shiny metal props and pretend to be a Bond Girl.
The room looks totally futuristic, with a clean plasma video screen surrounded by techie devices that Marty would probably be able to identify but which are a few years ahead of Elyse's skills, which are closer to blogging and photoshopping than to serious government dismantling. At least so far.
Janice stands back for a second while they take everything in, the weapons and the things that don't look quite like weapons and the things that don't look like weapons at all. Then she gets bored, maybe, because she pulls out a remote and presses a single button with a long, French-manicured nail, and the lights go dim and the plasma screen lights up.
"Girls, what I'm going to tell you will come as a surprise," Janice says. "We've been working very hard to keep this under wraps. But the world needs saviors, and you're the best we've got." She pauses. "Well, I'm the best we've got, but I need protégés. And no one currently at my agency is up to the task."
"See?" Adrianne whispers. "I knew my ability to work the mat would come in handy." Elyse elbows her; now is just not the time.
Tyra's face appears on the screen, filling it. Then it shrinks down until it's covering maybe half the screen, and to its left, Tyra's face from other angles.
"Dude," Adrianne says, "we know what Tyra looks like. We had to stare at her for like ten weeks."
Janice shoots her both a dirty look, like she's interrupting a planned speech, and as much as Elyse likes Adrianne, she basks in being the favorite for a minute. Adrianne shuts up, though, and Janice continues her spiel.
"Tyra Banks," she intones dramatically. "Thirty-three years old. Five feet ten inches. Weight..." Elyse doesn't need to look to know what her expression must be. "Fluctuates."
To her side, she knows that Adrianne is biting her lip to keep from snickering. Adrianne holds a grudge almost as hard as Janice does.
"All of this is common knowledge," Janice continues. "What you may not know is what happened in Belgium this year."
"Tyra was in Belgium?" Elyse interrupts. Usually she's pretty good about monitoring where Tyra is, just to maintain minimum distance.
"It's been well covered up." The image on the plasma screens fades away to reveal Tyra, in a dressing room, putting on her makeup. "Looks common, right? Just Tyra Banks, applying mascara? Well, look again."
This time, the camera zooms closer and closer in on her hand, until they can see every bristle on the mascara brush. It's glowing green. Not a lot. But enough.
"Radioactive," Janice says flatly.
"Shit," Adrianne says, "Seriously? What does that even mean?"
"Elyse, you're the scientist," Janice says. "Explain this."
"Um." Elyse squirms a little bit. There's being a scientist, and then there's being put on the spot by Janice Dickinson. "Did she get radiation poisoning?"
Janice rolls her eyes, like any idiot would know the answer to this one. "If she got radiation poisoning, she would have been on her talk show, complaining to the masses. No, this is far worse." Janice allows for a dramatic pause, and while she does, the screen switches back to the original shot of Tyra. But as they watch, the face morphs; it turns green, and Tyra's teeth develop into fangs, and her eyes look maybe even a little fiercer than usual. "She mutated."
"That's crazy," Elyse says. "Mutation doesn't work that way. In human beings, mutation-"
"Elyse?" Janice says. "When did you learn to fly?"
ii. The Girl Who'd Be Better On VH1
The truth comes out easier than Adrianne had expected it to, once they start talking. Elyse admits she can fly, Adrianne admits she can be invisible, Janice admits she's been looking for a way to take Tyra down since the fifth cycle of Top Model, and everyone feels cleansed or some shit.
The important thing is, Janice has weapons. A lot of weapons.
"Chris would fucking die for this shit," Adrianne mutters.
"Chris," Janice says, "will never find out."
"I tell him everything," Adrianne says. "We're in love."
Elyse snorts, which is what she does every time Adrianne says something like that. At the end of the day, there are two kinds of girls in the world: those who watched Brady Bunch reruns every day after school in their formative years and those who made fun of those who did. Elyse will always be the one who never had a crush on Peter Brady. Not even when she was eight.
She's hot, though, so Adrianne will forgive that.
"You're not just a girlfriend to a man twice your age anymore, Adrianne," Janice says severely.
"Wife," Adrianne mutters.
It's like Janice didn't even hear her. "You are a superhero. With great power comes great responsibility."
"Weapons?" Elyse asks.
"A secret identity," Janice corrects. She pauses, to consider what she just said. "Mostly weapons, actually. But also a secret identity."
"So which part is the secret?" Elyse asks. "Do we get masks and a cape?"
"We can't have capes," Adrianne says. "Didn't you see The Incredibles?"
"Yeah, but it was all in Mandarin, so it doesn't count."
Janice ignores this entire exchange. "I took the liberty of getting costumes designed for both of you."
"Will we match?" Elyse asks. "Is Adrianne going to be the Robin to my Batman?"
If either of them is a kind of dark sociopath, it's Elyse, so Adrianne's not going to complain about being labeled the Robin right now. She would like to make a comment about Elyse fucking her in the ass, but that seems like the kind of thing that should wait for when Janice is gone.
"Karen Walker," Janice says, "showed a collection of outfits inspired by 1930s comic heroes. I took the liberty of commissioning a few additional pieces. I'd like to see both of you in these." She presses another button on her remote, and a wall opens up to reveal two outfits in dry-cleaning bags. Then she steps back, waiting.
If there's one thing Adrianne isn't up for, it's trying on clothing for Janice's approval. But now that she's not aiming for a Revlon contract- which, P.S., she's still waiting to be paid for, thanks- it's easier to shrug off whatever criticism she can expect. She just peels off her clothing and starts getting dressed, not even looking to her side to see if Elyse is doing the same.
The costumes are cute, actually. She hadn't expected them to be cute. But they're the kind of cute that both Adrianne and Elyse can pull off equally well, which proves that no matter what Janice's flaws, at least she can read them well. The shirt emphasizes Adrianne's new boob job, which is great, because she has nice tits, and there's no reason the world shouldn't know that just because she's got a secret identity.
Both of the costumes come with masks, which don't actually do anything but narrow Adrianne's field of vision, and definitely guarantee that she can't wear her glasses. These don't seem like great qualities for a superhero.
She's about to point this out, when Janice rolls her eyes dramatically and presses another button on her remote. The picture of mutant Tyra is replaced with a picture of...
"Clark Kent." Elyse identifies the photograph correctly, but the way she's looking at Janice, Adrianne translates as Elyse for "The fuck?".
"What's the difference between Clark Kent and Superman?" Janice asks. "Glasses." She presses yet another button. "What's the difference between Bruce Wayne and Batman? A mask."
"So the people of Gotham and Metropolis are stupid," Adrianne says. "So what?"
"Don't kid yourself," Janice says. "The only difference between their people and our people is that theirs are cartoons and have an excuse."
Elyse turns to examine Adrianne. "You look like you're going to a party and looking for anonymous sex," she says. "And like you'd get it."
That's a high compliment, Adrianne knows. "If we weren't here with a mission, I'd bang you right now," she promises, and she's rewarded with one of Elyse's few genuine grins.
"Girls," Janice says sharply. They both turn towards her obediently. "You have to pay attention. We have a lot of training to do."
"Walking the runway while carrying weapons?" Adrianne guesses.
"Makeup around the mask?" Elyse offers.
"Hand to hand death combat," Janice says. It takes Adrianne a minute to realize that Janice is completely serious.
"Did you get Miss Jay to teach us?" she asks. "Because if you did, I'm going home."
"No," Janice says. "It's someone you've never met before."
Adrianne and Elyse exchange a glance. Which is kind of hard to do, when they're both wearing these face masks, but they know each other pretty well. They manage.
"Girls?" Janice says dramatically. "Meet Johnny Weir."
*
Elyse had been a figure skating geek once. Okay, not in the sense that she had ever skated herself, or really got into watching it on TV, even. But if it happens to be on, it's something she can follow, even in languages she can't pretend to grasp. Plus? Nearly everyone competing is hot and toned, the costumes are sparkly, and the boys always seem really, really gay.
Hey, her boyfriend is in an indie band, and she's a model. Gay boys are the bread and butter of Elyse's civilization.
After the fifth or sixth time that he knocks her on her ass without breaking a sweat, Elyse is totally ready to give him more credit than just being a toned gay guy with a sparkly costume. Johnny Weir can totally kick her ass, and look prettier than her doing it.
It's pretty hot.
Elyse is pretty sure that Adrianne doesn't watch skating, but maybe after Ms. Jay, this isn't that surprising to her. She takes the whole beat down thing in stride.
They spend maybe six hours with Johnny. At first he's just pummeling them, but finally, through sheer frustration, Elyse and Adrianne master the basics of Not Getting The Shit Kicked Out Of Them.
That's about when he introduces gadgets.
And, okay. It's one thing to dodge a punch. It's another to dodge a punch by throwing a hook and then zipping there through a tool on your belt. One is basic self defense, and the other is really fucking cool.
"Couldn't you just fly?" Adrianne asks Elyse at one point, proving that she is missing the entire point, which is that toys are so much cooler than actual abilities.
Besides, it's not like Adrianne's going invisible to get away from Weir or anything. Although maybe she should try.
Adrianne's more in shape than Elyse is, and by the end of the workout Elyse is panting hard. She spends most of the time that she's not fighting catching her breath. "This is awesome," is all that she manages during the first downtime they get, hours in, while Johnny's off to find out where, exactly, the scythe went.
He has a scythe, and they're going to get to play with it. Elyse has only held a scythe a few times, and that was maybe the best photo shoot she ever had, and definitely the best Halloween ever.
Adrianne shakes her head like she's not sure or something. "I feel like I'm Jay and Silent Bob in Mallrats, and I'm about to take out the fucking mall cops."
"You're an idiot," Elyse says. The grin spreads lazily over her face.
Adrianne, giggling, tackles her, and they're wrestling- Adrianne's hand is totally on her boob- when Weir comes back in.
"Girls!" he says. "This is not a VH1 reality show. You're superheroes now."
"Whatever," Adrianne mutters sullenly. Which is pretty unlike Adrianne, Elyse thinks, because she was always the one who was so gung-ho on Top Model. But on Top Model it was a question between winning and not winning, not between fighting Tyra and getting laid.
Actually, if you'd asked Elyse earlier, getting to fight Tyra might be the only thing in the world Adrianne would choose over getting laid.
But no. Johnny's back, with more than one scythe, so that they can prepare for scythe-y combat.
The scythe doesn't fit on their awesome superhero tool belts, which disappoints Elyse considerably. Adrianne seems to brighten once she's fighting with a giant weapon, though.
Proof that the world works in mysterious ways, maybe. Or, Elyse thinks with a wry grain, proof that there really is no god.
"Elyse!" Johnny says. "Focus. Tyra learned to fight with a scythe when she moved out alone and scared at seventeen. She spent all her time learning to model fashion and fight crime."
Johnny's right. She knows he's right.
But sometimes doing the right thing sucks.
iii. The Girl Who Finds Her Sidekick
"Out of every professional supermodel who would use radioactive mascara and turn evil," Elyse says thoughtfully, "I hadn't expected it to be Tyra."
It's dinner, and Janice had quite the buffet prepared for them. On Johnny's advice, they're bulking up; fighting crime requires a certain amount of energy available to burn.
"Who'd you expect?" Adrianne asks around a large mouthful of noodles.
"I don't know," Elyse says. "Naomi Campbell?"
"See, now you're just buying into Tyra's propaganda."
Elyse shakes her head. "This is serious shit, Adrianne. I mean, honestly, we're fighting Tyra Banks. Tyra Banks. Do you know how big that is?"
For once, Adrianne looks dead serious. "I've known how big this is since I started trying to find out why I won Top Model and got shit returns on that."
"I feel like we should get to start easier," Elyse says. "Like, we shouldn't fight Tyra on our first try."
"We should find out if Robin went evil," Adrianne says.
They both laugh, but they're kind of hysterical giggles, and the laughter disappears completely when Johnny, who's apparently responsible for supervising them at mealtimes, says "She did. But she's currently holed up in her secret lair."
"I'm sorry," Elyse says. "Robin has a secret lair? I can barely afford an apartment, which I'm sharing with my boyfriend. And he has a record deal and everything. How the hell can she afford a secret lair?"
"Well, it's not very secret," Johnny explains. "It's in the middle of a soybean field."
Never mind. The laughter isn't stopping anytime soon.
*
Johnny agrees that they could use the practice, so he convinces Janice to let them take her private spy jet to the middle of nowhere.
They stare out the window aimlessly, waiting for some sign of Robin's secret hideout. "If this is an elaborate set-up on Punk'd," Adrianne says, "I swear to god I am kicking Ashton's ass."
"We're not famous enough to be Punk'd," Elyse says. "If anything, this is a weird new version of The Joe Schmo Show."
As it turns out, it's not reality TV at all. Not by a long shot. In fact, they recognize they're near her lair when all electronic recording devices mysteriously stop working; clearly, Robin took being America's Next Top Model's pet devout-Christian-slash-tit-shaker harder than expected.
Robin's lair isn't just in the middle of a soybean field, it's also shaped like a soybean. And in giant glittery letters, across the top of the building, are the words "MISS SOYBEAN".
"It's not a very good secret lair," Adrianne observes mildly.
"Foolish is the model who advertises her fortress of solitude," Elyse agrees.
Maybe Adrianne's just elitist, or whatever, but she's America's Next Top Model, you know? Fourth place doesn't even come close.
And maybe Adrianne doesn't have a secret lair or anything, but she can chill in Janice's, which she's pretty sure is a better superhero choice than this anyway. Robin doesn't even have minions. She has a few genetically enhanced soybean stalks which try to block the entrance, but Adrianne and Elyse have the scythes they got from Johnny. It's not really any contest.
The fight isn't that exciting. Not really. Blah blah blah hand-to-hand combat, blah blah blah enchanted Bible, blah blah invisibility blah blah death blow- the best thing it could result in would be a really entertaining blog entry from Elyse, but since they're supposed to be using their secret superhero identities, it's not really anything to write home about.
On the plane home, Elyse seems almost dejected. "We were wearing masks the whole time," she points out. "Robin's never going to know that she was beaten by an atheist."
"That must be devastating to you," Adrianne says dryly.
"It's just kind of a crappy end to a crappy day," Elyse says, in a way that makes Adrianne feel really bad.
They're nearly home when Adrianne says "Hey, remember how you packed for the show?"
Of course Elyse remembers. It's not something she can forget. No matter how hard she tries.
"Remember how you brought..." Adrianne smirks a little. "Toys?"
If she's hoping Elyse is going to blush at the first mention of a few dildos, she'll have to keep hoping. "They put it on the fucking DVDs. Marty actually made the audio of that his voicemail for like a month. How could I forget?"
Adrianne appears to be ignoring her tone of voice entirely. "I decided to pack based on the Elyse Sewell School of Luggage."
It turns out it's not actually that hard to ditch the gay ice skater and the supermodel icon. Janice is having them stay at her place indefinitely, give or take: "a week, two weeks- however long you're going to need to defeat Tyra, I don't care," she'd said, sounding just about as drunk as Elyse had expected. "No one's getting eliminated, if that's what you mean."
They're staying in the same room in a giant king-sized bed, and practically as soon as they get there they peel off their uniforms (both of them are afraid enough of Johnny to hang them up before continuing), open up Adrianne's suitcase of toys, and go to town. It doesn't take long before Elyse is moaning loudly and Adrianne is talking even dirtier than usual.
Which is nice.
Nothing takes the edge off a day of defeating an admittedly-pretty-amateur villain like Robin like a few mind-blowing orgasms.
*
They have to learn how to control their powers, and Adrianne hates to admit it, but the more they work the more she's getting kind of jealous of Elyse's. Sure, she can go invisible, but it's not like her gadgets can, and even if they could, how helpful would it be to rappel with a hook you can't see? At least Elyse is getting pretty good at darting and dodging. And if Adrianne is on top, Elyse doesn't even float at all during sex anymore.
Johnny says they're making progress, but he says it in a voice that implies there's progress, and then there's defeating Tyra Banks.
Still, it's better than nothing.
Adrianne's been dreading their next meeting with Janice, because Johnny may be scary but she's pretty sure Janice could actually tear her limb from limb, suck the marrow from her bones, and laugh. So when Janice summons her and Elyse, as well as Johnny, to the lair, she's convinced it's going to be eliminated from the superhero pool, through a pit of vipers or something.
Instead they're greeted by Janice, whose hand is resting on the shoulder of a model.
Another model.
Kim. Kim, the cycle five lesbian.
Adrianne and Elyse glance at each other, then quickly look away.
"Dude," Adrianne says. "You weren't even on the show during her cycle."
"We bonded over a mutual enemy," Janice explains, which means that Kim hates either Tyra or Twiggy.
"What's your power?" Elyse asks her. Adrianne's not sure if Elyse is actually trying to be condescending, but if she is, she's showing some great effort there.
"I don't have a superpower," Kim says. "or, like, a job. So-"
"So it's settled," Janice declares. "Adrianne? Elyse? Meet your new boy wonder."