End: Her Skin Gets Whiter

Chocolate skin disappeared in a blaze of green light. Lois Lane stared as she saw the pink tits jiggle on the Black woman's chest beneath the blue bikini-top. If she hadn't seen it happen with her own eyes, she would not believe that the perky, milk-white titties belonged to a Black woman, instead of some ditzy blonde co-ed at Metropolis University. A starburst pattern defined the edges of the blast radius, creeping up from between the collarbones and down to her navel, as clear and distinct as vitiligo.

The Black woman was too taken aback by getting "hit" to properly dodge. Staring in horror at her own pale mammaries, her opponent lifted her gun and fired a quick burst of three shots.Two went wide, and began to ricochet off the crystal walls—but the third caught a glancing blow at the Black woman's head—and Lois Lane's jaw dropped as the frizzy hair went limp and silky blond, one brown eye turned blue, one nostril shrank and the nose went half-crooked as it tried to straighten; one cheekbone raised and the lips shrank to make a mismatched pair.

Too late, the Black woman tried to dodge. The Asian woman was on the floor of the arena, head down as the bolts of green light zipped around from wall to wall—and then one hit the standing woman in the ass.

Immediately, the Black woman's ass shrank and shifted, her booty shifting in her shorts. That set her off-balance and she fell. The final bolt hit her knee, and Lois saw again the brown flesh instantly recede, replaced with a knee that might fit a dairy made in Switzerland for its pale marble perfection.

The bolts do more than just change the color! Lois realized. They must rewrite the DNA!

A buzzer sounded.

Hands clamped onto the reporter's arms.

"You like our little game?" A security goon said. "'cause you're next, toots. Maybe you'll even get some tits..."

Lois Lane instinctively went limp. She sagged in the guard's arms, and they strained to lift her back up and drag her to the nearest crystal wall. One of them must have touched some control, because the wall began to ripple.

That was Lois Lane's cue. She grabbed onto the arms that held her, heaved up, and then brought both feet against the left knee of the man on her right. A big man, but as the joint popped he grunted and half-collapsed. The reporter went down to the floor on one knee, ripped her right arm from his grasp, and slammed it forward with a straight jab to the second guard's nuts. He bent over with a grunt, and the haymaker the reporter delivered as she stood up was a thing of beauty, sending him sprawling backward through the rippling crystal wall.

Lois stared at the two combatants, who gaped at this display dumbfounded.

"Tonya Wong!" Lois shouted to the Asian woman. "Toss me your gun!"

In shock, the Asian woman threw the half-organic weapon at the reporter, who caught it in her chest, jammed her hand against the handle and turned.

There were security people closing in from every side. The reporter grinned and pulled the trigger.

Bursts of green light zipped out—or not light, exactly, because they moved slow enough to dodge. Yet wherever they hit, there was a scream, not of pain but of shock. The majority of the customers for this bizarre fight club were WASPS, lily-livered rich folk as inbred as pugs—and at a touch of those bursts, their proud white skin turned chocolate or yellow, copper-tan or melanistic black. The sight of that checked the rush of the security guards...and then the half-transformed Black woman jumped through the shimmering crystal wall and screamed in rage as she fired indiscriminately.

Immediately, the atmosphere in this club-beneath-the-club had changed. A stampede began toward the exits. The half-Black gladiator in the blue bikini swore and mouthed obscenities as light burst out of her weapon in rapid bursts; Lois Lane was more frugal, aiming at the guards, bouncing shots off the outside walls. The men began to keep their distance, to pull up tables for cover and close in.

Tonya Wong grabbed the reporter's shoulder.

"This way!" She said, and Lois followed the half-naked woman, firing off shots just to cover their escape.

She looked back just as she saw that whatever charge the half-Black woman's weapon had ran out. In frustration, the blue bikini-clad figure pointed and grimaced, but nothing more came out. Then the security guards, some of whom sported their own miscoloured patches of flesh, swarmed her—and as she went down, she screamed.

Lois followed Tonya through a fire door to a hallway. At the end of the hall, a set of stairs that led down. Looking back, sure they would be followed at any moment, Lois didn't think to ask where they were going.

Not until it was too late.

Tonya Wong's heel caught Lois just above the crotch. The reporter folded in half, and the Asian woman's knee caught Lois on the chin, to send her sprawling. Lois was too dazed to stop her from grabbing the alien gun and ripping it out of the reporter's hand.

"It's the only way to get out, you see," Tonya said, as she adjusted a dial. "Once I'm white, and wearing your clothes, they'll just think I'm once of the customers. They'll be looking for an Asian woman in her underwear, and they'll find one."

Lois tried to rise as Tonya Wong sighted carefully down the barrel.

"Sorry, sister," she said. "It's the only way."

A burst of green light filled the reporter's vision. It was the first of several.

When Lois Lane came to, she was in her underwear. Surrounded by other women in their underwear, one of whose laps the reporter was using for a pillow. Some bore the tell-tale stigmata of having fought in the crystal arena. Lois Lane blinked, her vision ever so slightly off as she stared at the mismatched bodies of the veterans. Repeated exposure to the rays apparently lent a blending effect, and the bodies were subtly off in their proportions.

Lois raised a hand to her face...and paused.

Her skin was the wrong color. She tried to sit up, but the pain in her head grew, and strong hands gently pushed her back down.

"I know," a voice said, a New Jersey accent. "You get used to it. I used to be white, myself."

There was a tired resignation to that voice...and Lois Lane groaned as she realized how her mission had failed. She may have found the missing women—but who was going to find her? And how would they even recognize her, if she looked like someone else? The reporter didn't even know who was behind all this, or why...not really...

It was with such troubled thoughts that the exhausted reporter passed into a fitful sleep. Until the bell rang to announce it was time for a meal...or battle.