With grateful respect to Bill Hart and his creativity, I decided to  try an SRU 
story.  It can be archived by Mindy, and by anyone else who  has Bill Hart's 
permission to archive SRU stories, as long as there is  no charge for access.  

SRU - Pick A Card
By Brandy Dewinter

      "Shelly, please, don't go out tonight.  Or, let's go somewhere we  can be 
together."

     "Why, darlin' there's no reason we can't go out together tonight."

     "You know I can't go to those smoky bars you hang out in.  My  allergies 
could even make that fatal."

     "Your loss," Shelly said airily, putting the last of her things in  her purse 
for the evening.  She had dressed in a too-tight, too-short  mini and a stretchy 
top that showed every bit of her admittedly spec- tacular figure.  At 35, she 
was still firm and shapely.  In fact, with  her  long blonde hair and youthful 
clothing styles, she looked more like 25  than 35.

     Not so for her husband, Rick.  He was still trim and very fit,  though he 
had to work at that a lot harder than Shelly did.  But his  hairline was 
receding so fast it wasn't clear that it was also rapidly  turning grey.  Though 
he was only eight months older than his wife,  Rick looked at least 15 years 
her senior.  

    And his appearance was the lesser of their differences.  In  temperament he 
was even more her opposite.  Where she had always been  the life of any 
party she attended, and she attended a lot, he was much more  comfortable at 
a play or a quiet dinner in a nice restaurant.  Of  course, his allergy to tobacco 
smoke was an even greater limitation on their  mutual activities.  About the 
only compatibility they seemed to share  was that he had the money to pay for 
her habits.  Not for the first time,  Rick wondered if that were truly the reason 
she had married him.  

     He decided to try one more time, before she left.  "Please, dear, why 
don't we go out to dinner instead.  They're doing Twelfth Night at the Regent 
and I'm sure we can get tickets."

     "Right," she snorted.  "Like I want to go see some musty old  tragedy 
when the gang is going to be dancing."

     "Twelfth Night is a comedy," he muttered, but it was to her  disappearing 
back. 

* *  *

     "So where's your old fuddy duddy, tonight?" Carl asked the pretty  
blonde.

     Shelly sniffed like even answering the question was beneath her.   
"Probably reading some dry financial report.  Gag!"

     "If I had you for a wife, no amount of money would keep me home,"  
Carl declared grandly.

     "If you had Rick for a husband, only a vast amount of money would keep 
you home," she snapped, then snickered, "sometimes."

     Carl laughed, and ordered another round of drinks (conveniently on  
Shelly's tab).  He was one of her regulars, friends who could always be  
counted on to share a good time, if not the bills.  They had known each  other 
since high school, had "made love" before either had graduated,  but  then 
just maintained a casual friendship.  Carl was working class, after  all, 
definitely not Shelly's type for a husband.  

     *Now, there's someone who might just be my type,* she mused to  
herself.  

     A tall, aquiline man had entered the bar.  He looked as though he owned 
everything his eyes lit upon, most especially including the women.   Like a 
radar sweep his eyes scanned the room to the limits of the dim  visibility, then 
locked onto Shelly.

     "Hello," he said as he approached, ignoring Carl entirely.

     Carl tried to shift his bulky body into a roadblock position, but  the lean 
stranger was past him before he had hardly started to move.

     "Hello," Shelly replied.  "Have we met?"

     "Yes," he smiled.  "Right now."

     *Well,* she mused again, *he's certainly confident.*

     "I'm John Snyder," the man said, an almost-courtly bow showing in the 
merest hint of head movement.     

     "I'm Shelly . . . Shelly Montrose, um, Applegate," she stammered.

     "Montrose-um-Applegate," he chuckled.  "Is that some sort of  society 
name?"

     Shelly blushed at her mistake.  She hadn't give her maiden name in  years.  
She tried to recover her composure with the same sort of brash  confidence 
she usually displayed, confidence that had seemed quite solid  until she met 
this stranger.

     "It's Applegate now," she admitted.  "Does it bother you that I'm  
married?"

     "Does it bother you?" Snyder replied with his own question.

     "Not tonight," she smiled, more than a hint of offer lurking behind her 
long lashes.

     Carl tried to insert himself back into the conversation.  Shelly  hadn't 
responded to his advances for years, but if she was in the mood tonight . . .

    "Hey, Shelly, you remember that time when we . . .?" he started.

     Shelly cut him off at the knees, "No."

     "So, Mr. Snyder, why haven't we met before?" she continued.

     "It's John," he said with both an inward and an outward smile as he  
moved between Shelly and the befuddled Carl with practiced ease.   *Another 
conquest, and if she won't succumb to charm alone, well, I've  got my 
Rohypnol.*

* *  *

     The doorbell to the Applegate's home had been chosen more for its  
melodious tones than for its ability to penetrate sleep.  But then, Rick  
Applegate hadn't really been asleep anyway.  He was not-watching some  
late-night infomercial as he not-read his predicted financial report.   Mostly he 
was waiting for the sound of the garage door.  And waiting.  

     The doorbell startled him as effectively as an alarm clock, though.   He 
jumped from his stupor and tried to get his tired mind to absorb the  
importance of the sound.  Why would his doorbell be ringing at, what was  
it, 3:00 AM?

     The policeman standing at the door knew about that sort of  confusion.  
He had seen it entirely too many times.  It wasn't as common to be telling a 
man his wife had died in a car crash as the other way  around, but it certainly 
wasn't any easier.  Especially since she hadn't been alone.  He'd need to tell 
the husband that.  It would be even  harder  if he found out later.  Maybe 
even dangerous, since the man had escaped with only minor injuries.  It 
wouldn't do to have the husband go into  some blind rage after some well-
meaning person told him about the wife's companion.  

* *  *

     It seemed Rick's next conscious thought was of sitting on a bench  in  a 
local mall.  At some level he knew that he had been going through the  
motions of funeral arrangements.  Had even attended the funeral.  He had  
been on his way to the office when he remembered their anniversary was  
coming up and he needed to get Shelly a gift.  Autopilot had taken him  to  the 
mall and had moved his body along the corridors until he felt like  sitting for a 
moment.

     Across from him was a strange little store he didn't remember from  
before.  He wasn't all that familiar with this mall, usually only coming in for 
gifts for his wife.  The standard mall store had as big an  opening as possible 
to lure shoppers in from the corridor, but this place had a regular wooden 
door and a glass front window like an outdoor shop.   "Spells R Us."  He 
hadn't heard of that place.  

     With a start reminiscent of his shock at the late-night doorbell,  Rick sat up 
and looked around.  *What am I doing here?* he thought.

     For a moment, the loss of his wife almost caused him to break down  into 
tears.  He wouldn't be needing any more anniversary presents.  In  an attempt 
to get his mind off his personal tragedy, he decided to go look  into the little 
shop.

     The tinkle of a tiny bell was reassuring somehow, no melodious  chimes 
like his house with all of the attendant memories.  Even the  dusty confusion 
of the place seemed comforting.  His home seemed so  cold and sterile now 
that Shelly was gone.  Rick was looking around the store, his orderly 
accountant's mind trying to figure out some rhyme or reason for the selection 
of merchandise displayed when an old man  wearing a bathrobe came out of 
the back room.

     For the first time since that fatal night, Rick laughed.  The old man 
frowned for just a second, then concentrated for an equal time, then  smiled 
in return.

     "Yours is cleaner, Rick," the old man said.

     "Huh, what did you say?" Rick asked.

     "I said your robe is cleaner," the man repeated.  

     "How did you know that I have a robe just like that one?" Rick  asked.

     "I'm a wizard.  I know lots of things," the man replied.

     Usually this claim was good for some sort of emotion from the  patrons of 
the old man's shop.  Mostly disbelief, often humor,  sometimes suspicion.  
Seldom anger.  But that was Rick's response.

     "Yeah, well, if you're a wizard, give me a spell to kill someone!"

     Rick was as shocked by his outburst as the old man.  He was not a  
violent person.  He didn't even get angry very often, and when he did it was 
the sort of cold hardness that made him strong enough for the  cutthroat 
world of big business, not this white-hot desire for murder.  Yet it was real.  
He knew that even as the words were spilling from his snarling lips.

     The old man who claimed to be a wizard peered at Rick for a long  
moment.  His eyes appeared to look deeper than the surface in a way that 
deflated Rick's anger even as they respected it.  Nodding abruptly, the old 
man walked along his counter and reached down for a deck of cards.   Well, 
not really a deck.  There were only a few cards in the small  stack, maybe 
four or five.

     He spread the cards out along the counter, face down, and said to Rick, 
"Pick a card."

     There were four cards, it turned out, all identical as far as Rick  could see.

     "And if I do?" Rick asked.

     "Then you will have the ability to kill the man who killed your  wife."

     "What do you know about my wife's death?"

     "I know that she had too much to drink the night she was killed,  
Rohypnol in her bloodstream as well.  Snyder poured her into her seat  
without even fastening her seat belt, and when he ran off the road from  his 
own drinking, she was helpless when she was thrown from the car."

     Then the old man continued with an even more shocking revelation,  "And 
I know that this is not the first time he's done something like  this.  He left a 
woman dead in Texas from the same sort of accident.   If you want to kill 
him, I can help."

     Applegate looked around for some sort of surveillance trap, then  said, 
"Look, I'm not really going to kill anyone.  I was just popping off.  Are you 
a cop?"

     "No, I told you I'm a wizard.  And I didn't say you'd kill him.   I just said 
I'd give you the ability to kill him.  Whether you do or  not is up to you.  
There.  Now I'm as guilty as you of conspiracy to  murder.  If you do kill 
him, that is."

     The old man pointed to the cards again.  Rick hesitated, moving  closer to 
the counter but not reaching out.

     "Well, if you're not a cop, then this sounds entirely too much  like a deal 
with the devil.  What's this going to cost me?"

     "Your life as you know it," the man calmly replied.

     "That's already over," Rick snorted dismissively.

     "Then you've got nothing to lose," the old man claimed.

     Rick looked at the man suspiciously, "What do you have to gain?"

     The wizard was about to shrug off any suggestion of gain, but he realized 
that Rick was too used to the business world to trust someone who claimed to 
be doing something for nothing.  Instead, he thought for a moment and then 
said, "Okay, how about this?  You pick a card.  In  fact, I'll give you all the 
cards.  One week from today you come back  here and give them back to me, 
along with whatever you think is fair  for a rental.  I know you'll be fair."

     This was almost the wrong line to take with Applegate.  He had been in 
deals like this before and had a reputation of being more than fair.   There 
was a twinkle in the old man's eyes now that showed he knew this  about 
Rick, too.  A part of him wanted to negotiate a firm price right now, yet, 
what price?  A few cards, part of a deck, were almost  worthless if there was 
no magic, and of what value if there was?  

     Compulsively, as though someone else were jerking strings on his  arm, 
Rick reached out and turned over the third of the four cards, a  Queen of 
Clubs.  

     "Okay, I picked one," he snapped.

     "Look at it, closely," the old man ordered.

     Rick picked it up and stared at the face card.  It was standard, as  far as he 
could tell.  No Tarot peculiarities, just a two-headed woman  in a somewhat 
ornate outfit.  Well, actually, it was a bit peculiar.   Instead of the outfit 
looking like some sort of color design in the  material of the Queen's outfit, it 
seemed more like a symmetric metal  design over simple leather.  And didn't 
the card Queens usually have  some sort of headdress instead of showing 
long dark hair?  The eyes were  strange, too, though they hadn't seemed so 
just a second before.  They  were brilliant blue and seemed to be looking right 
at him.  He found  them strangely compelling, deeper than a thin card should 
be.  Larger,  too.  Larger than even a real person's eyes.  So large that they 
seemed to be larger than him, swelling up to surround him, consume him, 
swallow him into their crystal depths.

     Regina Morningstar looked down at her warrior's outfit, and then  down 
at the old man.  She was taller than he, taller in fact than Rick  had been.  The 
whirls of metal armor that covered her leather minidress  seemed to dance as 
she breathed with the shock of reawakening.  The  sword in the sheath over 
her shoulder whispered out in unconscious reflex as  she tried to take in her 
unfamiliar surroundings.

    "So, old man, you've called me out again," the dark-haired woman  said.

     "Actually, it wasn't me.  Another has called you.  He has a  righteous 
battle to fight.  You must listen to him."

     "Right, like I'm going to surrender control of my body again like you 
made me do the last time," snarled the tall warrior.

     "I didn't say that," the old man denied.  "I just said you should  listen to 
him."

    "Him?  I missed that the first time.  You mean there's a guy inside of me?" 
she snapped.

     "Yes.  His wife was killed by a predatory man.  He wants revenge.   In 
fact, he thinks he wants to kill the man."

     "Well, killing some predatory scum is all right with me, but I  don't need 
to surrender control to do it," she replied with a toss of her  smooth ebony 
tresses.

     "Some time has passed since your last visit," the old man warned.   "You 
could probably use at least listening to what he has to say."

     "Yeah, maybe.  If I get curious, I'll ask him.  Do I get the rest of the cards 
this time, too?" she asked, pointing to the still-unturned cards.

     "Yes, or at least he does.  You won't be able to change unless he  focuses 
on the cards through your eyes."

     "Right, I know the drill," she said as she gathered in the  remaining cards.  
"Now, where is this creep that needs killing?"

     The old man just smiled at the tall warrior woman and said nothing.

     "Fine, be that way.  I'll find him on my own," she growled and  turned 
for the exit.  Somehow the tinkle of the little bell seemed silly rather than cute 
as it announced her departure.

     The leather-clad warrior had only taken a few steps from the door  of the 
shop when a child's piercing cry split the air.

     "Xena!" he yelled.  The caller was a boy about ten years old, now  
tugging frantically on his mother's hand.

     "Mama, there's Xena!  We need to talk to her!"

     The warrior woman looked around first at the shout and then to see  who 
the kid was yelling about.  In a heartbeat it was clear that she  herself was the 
object of the kid's attention.

     The boy's mother let herself be pulled toward the taller woman and  tried 
to get her child to make a little less noise.

     "Are you really Xena?" the boy asked Morningstar.  His eyes were  
almost as large as her chakram, and his mouth almost as round.  She had no 
clue who he was talking about, and in her confusion, she surrendered just 
enough control to hear an internal voice shouting with frantic energy.

     *Hey!  Let me out!  Who are you?*

     *Who are you?* she thought to herself.

     *I'm Rick Applegate.  The wizard told me to turn over a card and all of the 
sudden I was inside looking out from your body.*

     *Oh.  Yeah.  The wizard warned me about you* she thought back at  him.

     *Well, he didn't warn me about you!* Applegate snarled inside her.   *Let 
me out!*

     *Can't do that,* Morningstar replied.  *At least, not yet.  Look,  we can 
cover all that later.  First, can you do anything about this  screaming kid if I 
let you talk?*

     *Huh?  Sure.  He just thinks you're a TV star.*

     *TV?  What's that?  Never mind.  Tell me later.  First get rid of him.*

     From inside his shapely prison, Applegate suddenly realized he  could  
talk.  It was as though he felt a buzz in his own throat that told him  he had at 
least limited control over his host's, or actually hostess's  body.

     *Squat down to his level,* Rick whispered in his own mind.

     The tall woman squatted down with easy grace until she was eye to  eye 
with the wide-eyed boy.

     "What's your name," Rick asked.

     "Tommy," the boy replied.

     "Do you like the Xena show?"

     "Yes, ma'am.  I watch it every week," the boy politely answered.

     "Well, I'm not really Xena.  She's just a TV character.  My name  is, 
um," *Regina Morningstar* came a whispered commment, "Regina  
Morningstar."

     "Morningstar?  Like the club?" the kid asked.

     "Very good!" Rick and Regina replied together, providing an odd  echo  to 
the words.  

     Tommy's mother smiled at the praise for her boy.  "He's really  interested 
in ancient weapons.  Not many his age even know what a  morningstar is.  
So, Miss, um, oh, I get it.  Regina.  Heh.  Queen of the Club.  Cute.  Are 
you an actress, too?"

     Rick tried to just nod, but those muscles weren't his to control,  so  he 
answered verbally, "Yes, ma'am.  I'm here to promote the action  figures.  
You can get them at the Spells R Us store."

     "Don't you mean Toys R Us?" the mother smiled.

     "Oh, yes.  Sure." Rick replied.  Regina stood their body up and  started to 
move down the mall.  The boy's eyes still seemed too large  for  his head, but 
he let himself be pulled toward the toy store though he  kept staring over his 
shoulder at the tall, dark-haired warrior woman.

     *What's TV?* Regina asked internally.

     *It's a device that shows moving pictures, with sound.  People put on, 
um, plays and they are displayed on the television,* explained Rick.

     Just then they passed a reflective wall of glass and Rick caught  sight of 
his new appearance.  His shock at the image allowed him to  exert a bit more 
control for a second and he brought them to an abrupt halt.  

     *Wow!* he gasped.

     Reflected in the glass was the spitting image of Xena the Warrior Princess 
as created by Lucy Lawless.  Six feet tall, leather minidress  with shiny 
bronze armor, knee-high boots, and long raven hair.  

     *You're gorgeous,* he blurted out.

     *Why, thank you,* Regina smirked.  

     The pause was a problem, though.  More calls of, "Xena!" could be  
heard as additional children, and a few adults, started to converge.

     *We've got to get away from these crowds,* Regina thought.

     *Not dressed like you are, we won't* Rick replied in a sentence confused 
by their dual nature.  

     *I can fix that, if we can find a bit of privacy for a moment,"  Regina 
promised.

     *Okay, duck in there,* Rick indicated with a mental picture.  Since 
virtually all of the interested patrons had been male, they were soon  safe 
behind the door to a ladies restroom.  

     Another mall customer came walking out of a stall, fastening up her jeans 
as she moved to the counter.  It was a quite attractive young  woman, a 
natural redhead as demonstrated by a few hairs straying out  from  behind her 
tiny panties.  Rick blushed so hard that a bit of that got  through, too, leaving 
Regina looking embarrassed to the other girl.  

     "Sister, I'd need to hide, too, if I wore an outfit like that," the  redhead 
laughed at Regina.  

     "Yeah, well, that's, um, what they told me to wear," Regina managed to 
get out while Rick was still trying not to look at the girl's panties  as they 
peeked through her too-tight jeans.  

     "Damn," the girl said, "I have got to lose some weight.  Can you  help me 
for a second?"

    "Um, sure," Regina replied.  "What do you want me to do?"

    "Just squeeze the sides a little," the redhead requested.  Regina's strong 
hands held the zipper close enough that the girl could finish  closing her 
pants.  Rick blushed even harder as he couldn't get Regina  to  look decently 
away from the redheads body.

     *Settle down,* Regina demanded as the girl left.  *It's no big  deal.*

     *Not for you, maybe, but the only woman I ever got that close to is my 
wife!* Rick declared, then a sad tone crept into his mental voice as  he 
corrected himself, *or was.*

     *The wizard told me your wife was killed.  You want to get the guy  who 
did it?*

     *Yes,* Rick answered.  *I'll kill him if I can.*

     *Well, now you can,* Regina declared.

     *How?  Are you going to do it?*

     *Probably not,* replied Regina, then seemed to jump topics.

     *How much did the wizard tell you about me, and the cards?*

     *Nothing,* Rick replied.  *He told me to pick a card, then  concentrate on 
it.  Next thing I knew, I was in here and you were, well,  here.*

     *That's about what I thought,* Regina mused.  *Well, here's the  
situation.  If you concentrate on any of the cards, you become the  character 
on the card.  The Queen of Clubs becomes Regina Morningstar,  and so on.*

     *And so on?* Rick asked.

     *Oh, it will be easier just to show you,* Regina replied as she  drew the 
cards from behind her belt.  

     *Let's see,* she mused as she glanced quickly at the four cards,  *to get 
where we want to go, money is always handy.*

     She selected the Queen of Diamonds and held it up to their eyes. 
*Concentrate on this card now.*

     Rick was still trying to get a look at the other cards out of the  corner of 
their eye.  *All the cards are queens!*

     *Of course,* Regina replied.  *Now concentrate!*  

      Rick finally let his attention focus on the card held by Regina.   In a 
moment he again felt the eyes of the figure on the card seem to grow  and 
envelop him.  This time they were standing in front of the mirror  in the ladies 
room so he could see their new appearance immediately.  In  place of a six-
foot brunette in armor and leather, he saw a blonde of  more ordinary stature.  
She was dressed in a dark red power suit,  complete with heels and a frilly 
blouse.  Her movements showed more briskness than the languid power of 
Regina Morningstar, but they were  just as graceful in their own way.  She 
was, if anything, even more  beautiful, though in a very sophisticated style.

     *Wow!* he exclaimed again.

     *Thank you, kind sir,* the mental voice giggled.  

     *Um, who are you?* he asked.

     *I'm Regina Diamond.  I suppose you could say that I'm the same  
person, but when I am in this persona, I'm a bit less . . . physical, shall we 
say?*

     With that the woman checked her flawless appearance in the mirror and 
strode from the powder room with an intriguing combination of  purpose and 
feminine grace.  Outside, a liveried chauffeur was waiting.

     "Ah, Miss Diamond, are we ready?"

     "I don't know about you, Charles, but I'm ready," Regina Diamond  
laughed in reply.  Of course, it would never do for her chauffeur to  keep her 
waiting, so they proceeded out the door to the mall.  About a city block's 
worth of limousine was idling at the curb as 'Charles'  hurried for the door.  
In moments, Regina was settled and Charles was asking for their destination.

     *Where do we go?* Regina asked her inner companion.

     *Um, maybe to the bar where my wife met this Snyder guy,* Rick  
answered.

     He still felt the sense of being able to talk, so he used the  crystal pure 
now-soprano tones of Regina Diamond's voice to answer Charles, "The 
Mystic Club, Everglade and 4th."

     *Where did Charles come from?* Rick asked.

     *It doesn't matter,* Regina replied.  *He's part of the setting for this 
persona, like Regina Morningstar's sword.  He goes away when I  change 
form.*

     Applegate was about to question her further, but just what rules  would 
there be for magic anyway?  Pseudo-people appearing and dis- appearing at 
need were no less likely than the other parts of this  strange enchantment.  

     They reached the nightclub just as the crowd was reaching its  frenzied 
peak.  Regina Diamond sailed past the line like she owned the place, barely 
nodding to the bouncer at the door.  The interior was just as smoky as Rick 
had feared, but it didn't bother him in this new form. In fact, the smell didn't 
even seem to touch the pristine purity of  Regina Diamond's elegant image.  

     Rick had seen Snyder at the hearing on his drunk-driving charge,  but  he 
almost didn't recognize him in this setting.  The penitent, meek man who had 
convinced the judge to give him probation (for the eighth time,  though not in 
this state) was not apparent in the arrogant confidence  Snyder displayed as 
he hunted his favorite prey.  Perhaps Regina Diamond  was a bit less careful 
to maintain control of their body, or perhaps  Rick  was learning to exert a bit 
of his own control over their dual persona,  but whatever the reason, as soon 
as Rick saw Snyder, Regina started  moving that way.  

     Snyder happened to be at the bar so Regina slid sleekly onto a  stool next 
to him and tapped her long fingernails to get the bartenders attention.  It also 
got Snyder's attention.

     Instead of rising to the bait, though, Snyder seemed to withdraw a little.

     "Excuse me," he said, moving slightly away to give her room.

     "For what?" Regina asked.

     "Huh, um, well, for nothing, I guess.  I just didn't want to crowd you," 
he replied.

     "If I felt too crowded, I'd let you know," she said with a smile.

     "Yes, ma'am," Snyder said as he ducked his head in an almost-bow.  This 
bow was subservient, though, not the courtly assumption of manners  he had 
showed to Shelly.  

     Then he turned back to the scan the rest of the room.

     *Ma'am?* Rick asked in shock.

     *Oh, I get that a lot,* Regina Diamond answered.  *This guy is not 
interested in a relationship between equals.  He wants to dominate.  He'll find 
someone less, shall we say, regal?*

     *Oh.  Then what do we do to get him alone so I, um, we, can kill  him?  
We can't do it here in front of everyone.*

     Rick's question was met by an internal silence, yet even in the  silence 
there was a sense of amusement floating lightly over his  concern. In a 
moment, he understood.

     *Another card?*

     The internal sense changed to one of agreement, accompanied by  
movement as Regina Diamond stood and headed toward yet another ladies 
room.  In the room, she quickly selected the Queen of Hearts card.   There 
was enough of a crowd in the room that they couldn't do a transformation 
right there, so they went in to a stall before Rick concentrated on the  image.  
In moments, he felt another transition, but they had to wait until the group of 
women in the room had cycled enough that it would be unlikely anyone 
would remember that the woman coming out of their stall  had not been the 
one to go in.  

     When they emerged, the rich elegance of Regina Diamond had given  way 
to a girl-next-door freshness.  The dark red power suit had given way to a 
bright red minidress that was a bit too small for the abundant curves  it had 
been tasked to cover.  The mid-heel pumps had become quite a bit higher, 
and quite a bit flashier.  The still-blonde hair was even  longer,  and thicker, 
and slightly tousled in a way that invited a caress.

     *Wow!* Rick said as he looked in the mirror.

     *You're not terribly original,* his internal companion laughed.   *It seems 
strange to need to do this, since we're so 'close' but let me introduce myself.  
I'm Regina D'Amour.*

     *That I can believe,* Rick answered.  It was a good thing he didn't have 
full control over 'their' body, since it wouldn't have looked right for him to 
be drooling at his own appearance.  Regina D'Amour laughed  out loud with 
a silvery giggle and swayed from the ladies room back into the  main part of 
the club.

     Just in time to see Snyder leaving with another woman.  One who was  
close enough to Regina D'Amour, or to his Shelly for that matter, that  Rick 
knew their new persona would have been successful in capturing his 
attention.  

     *He's getting away!* Rick groaned.

     *Oops,* Regina agreed.  *Well, maybe next time.*

     *But what if he kills that woman, too?* Rick asked.

     *Well, he wasn't nearly as drunk tonight as he was on the night  your  
wife was killed," Regina assured him.  

     *I still don't like it,* Rick grumbled.

     Regina D'Amour was designed to be a guy magnet, and her design was  
very effective.  Even as Rick was watching his target leave, Regina had  
become the target for a number of single men, or at least men who wanted to 
be single when she was around.  Thankfully he could withdraw and let  
Regina handle the conversation while he tried to decide what to do.

     *Regina,* he interrupted her.  *We have to go get him.  I can't  stand by 
and let him screw up somebody else's life like he did mine.*

     *Oh, okay, party pooper,* she grumbled.  She had been enjoying the 
attention.  Her persona was just too full of fun and happiness to feel  bad in a 
social setting.  

     *So what do we do?* Risk asked.  *Get Regina Diamond back so we  
have a car?*

     *That won't be necessary,* Regina D'Amour announced.  *Let's go 
outside.*

     Rick played passenger again as they walked outside, then turned  down a 
dark alley.  Even in his masculine form he'd have hesitated  before going into 
so threatening a place, but Regina D'Amour walked with breezy confidence 
into the darkness.  Just before it got too  dim to see, she selected out another 
card.  

     *Look at this one,* she commanded, and Rick complied.

     The card was the Queen of Spades, and as he looked at it Rick felt their 
body changing yet again.  This time, their clothes turned into a  skin-tight 
stretchy catsuit that flowed down to encompass soft-soled  boots and dark 
gloves.  In seconds, only full lips and ivory cheeks  showed below a dark 
mask that highlighted luminous blue eyes.  The  tumble  of blonde hair had 
become a cape of midnight dancing lightly on slender shoulders.  It would be 
hard to say what the color of the catsuit was.   It must have been mostly 
black, but it threatened to fade into  transparency with every breath, at every 
point where the taut material  was stretched to cover smooth contour. 

     *Regina Shadow,* came the abrupt introduction.

     Rick gulped and nodded, or tried to nod.  Nothing external showed,  but 
the intent was communicated.  Regina Shadow waited for nothing  further 
and flowed through the shadows back toward the street.  

     *Do you know his address?* she asked.

     *Yes,* Rick answered.  *Are we going to get a cab, dressed like this?*

     *Something like that,* she replied.  Once she had determined their 
destination, she slid silently through the dimness until they came to  an 
overpass crossing a freeway headed in the right direction.  She  crouched on 
the bridge, then leaped into the darkness.  

     Once again it was a good thing that Rick's control was limited, for his 
scream of terror died in silence before it escaped from Regina's  glossy lips.  
Instead of falling to their death, they fell only a few  feet onto the top of a 
delivery truck.  Regina's boots stuck to the top like glue, her gloved hands 
just as firmly, and they settled down for a  windy but stable ride. 

     At the appropriate point, now only a few blocks from Snyder's  residence, 
Regina jumped from the delivery truck and they merged with  the  shadows 
again until they stood on the roof of Snyder's apartment.

     The rooftop entry was locked, but it took only seconds for Regina  to pick 
the lock with tools that Rick had not noticed were hung about her belt.  The 
crept along the hallway to the right door and listened.   Inside, there were 
sounds of occupancy, though not of passion.  

     "Stupid bitch," Snyder was growling.  "Passed out on me."

     They heard the sounds of movement down an internal hallway, then  the 
unmistakable sounds of Snyder relieving himself.  Regina used this 
opportunity to pick the lock to his apartment and in seconds they were  
hidden in the shadows of the bedroom.  The blonde who had been last  seen 
hanging on Snyder's arm was sprawled on the bed.  Her clothes had  been 
roughly stripped from her, but something about the disarray implied that the 
evening's main event had not been realized.  

     *What are you, the perfect cat burglar?* Rick asked his current  hostess.

     *Perfect assassin,* Regina Shadow replied.  *I don't need money.*

     While Rick was trying to absorb this new information, Snyder walked  
back into the room and slapped at the slumbering girl.  His only  response  
was a soft, furry snore.  Growling again, he shoved her to one side of  the 
bed and slipped into his own side.  In moments his own snores  drowned out 
those of the sleeping girl.  

     When it was clear that he was soundly asleep, Regina stood up.  She  
walked over to the sleeping pair and looked down on them.

     *Okay,* Regina said internally, *here's your chance.  Kill him.*

     Rick saw target areas appear on Snyder's sleeping body and felt a  tingle 
that let him know he had control over Regina's body.  He knew  that a strike 
at any one of several locations would result in Snyder's death.   Some would 
create results mimicking a heart attack, others would result in screeching 
agony that would cause enough pain to trigger a real heart attack.  Any sort of 
death that he wanted could be inflicted on the  sleeping man.

     But he couldn't do it.  Killing a man in cold blood was just not  within the 
range of things he could stomach.  He hated this man, make no mistake about 
that, but murder was as much a statement about  himself as about this man.  

     *I don't want to kill him, just hurt him, and get him to stop preying on 
women,* he explained.

     *Sorry, can't help you with that,* Regina Shadow replied.  

     *You mean the perfect assassin doesn't know how to just hurt  
someone?*

     *Why bother?* she answered.  

     Perfect assassin indeed, including no feelings of remorse.  

     Rick still couldn't do it.  Then an idea came to him.  He used the  body 
control he possessed, but instead of reaching for the sleeping man,  he 
reached for the cards.  He decided he'd get out Regina Morningstar  again.  A 
warrior woman should be able to beat up somebody pretty well, he thought.  

     When he spread the cards out to look for the one he wanted, he  found  
that there were five cards, not four.  

     The new card was a Joker, an ugly visage though not wearing the  tassled 
hat and multi-pointed collar of a typical jester card.  He felt the first stirrings 
of power as he looked at it, then quickly looked  away.

     Now where had that card come from?  And why?  He carefully put it back 
into the stack so that he wouldn't fall into it's image.  That would be horrible, 
to be that ugly, and you could just tell from looking at the face that the person 
would be stupid as well.  

     Rick carefully looked at the cards again, trying to find the Queen  of 
Clubs.  But the card that caught his eye was again the Joker card.

     Again he shuffled the few cards together, deliberately moving the  Joker 
card to the back of the deck.  Again when he looked it was the  first that he 
saw.  

     Rick was trying to decide what to do next when Snyder stirred.  In  the 
dim light, the aquiline planes of his face took on a harshness  reminiscent of 
the angular ugliness of the Joker card, and Rick finally  understood.  

     This time, he selected the card deliberately, being careful only to glance at 
it before turning it away.  He put the other cards back in one of the utility 
pouches on Regina Shadow's belt, and then held the card  facing away from 
him and toward Snyder.  A gloved hand snaked out to the switch on the 
bedside lamp.  When light flooded the room, Snyder's eyes squinted even 
more tightly closed for an instant, then tried to focus on  the room.

     "What's going on?" he asked as his eyes were captured by the card held 
before them.  

     He froze in place.  A wave of change moved through the room as his  lean 
body became gaunt, his sharply-chiseled features marred by deep  acne scars, 
his eyes clouding as though intelligence were being leeched into  the 
darkness.

     The slender blonde next to him became pudgy, still blonde but with  dark 
roots obviously showing.  Her own face was marked by acne, evidence that 
her current lack of cleanliness was the habit of a lifetime.  

     The furnishings of the room became threadbare.  The walls dissolved to 
reveal a single studio apartment, much smaller than the one they had  entered.  
Clothes were strewn haphazardly, the closest thing to a  statement of style 
being the multiple Domino's deliveryman shirts.  A  shimmer formed over the 
small TV to show a single photo of the woman and the man Snyder had 
become.  She was in a too-tight dress and proudly  holding a marriage 
certificate, while he was smiling foolishly.  

     With that event, the flow of transition stopped and Snyder  collapsed back 
into sleep.  

     *I still think you should have killed him,* Regina Shadow said.

     *It might have been more merciful at that,* Rick agreed, but his grin 
threatened to split even the full lips of his hostess's beautiful mouth.  

* *  *

     Regina Diamond walked through the mall, casually window shopping.  It 
had been a week since she had first obtained the cards from the  wizard.  She 
had promised to bring them back in a week.  Or Rick had.   The distinction 
was becoming hard to remember.  After Regina Shadow left  Snyder's 
apartment, now located in a run-down part of town, Rick  realized that he 
didn't have a card to turn himself back into, well, himself.  He thought about 
returning immediately to the shop, but somehow he hadn't  gotten around to 
it.  

     Instead, he'd experimented with each of the queen cards (carefully  
avoiding the Joker card).  It seemed that Regina Diamond's credit cards had 
no limits.  Regina Morningstar, once they had obtained some more  suitable 
clothes, enjoyed a spectacular day at the beach.  She was a  natural athlete, 
equally comfortable at swimming, water-skiing, or  flirting with the 
lifeguards.  Just for fun, one night Regina Shadow had stolen a very large 
ring right off the finger of a too-haughty matron,  but she put it under the bed 
where it would be found after a bit of  panicked search.  Like she said, she 
didn't need money.  

     Overall, though, most of the week had been spent as Regina D'Amour.   
Off them all, she simply enjoyed life the most.  It was a wonderfully effective 
elixir for Rick's broken soul to find happiness in the simple things of life.  
Regina D'Amour went to see Twelfth Night, then found herself accepting an 
invitation to a post-performance party.  That led to a dinner invitation the next 
night, which she accepted on a lark.   Rick would never have done that, but 
then, Regina wasn't really Rick.  

     Or, wasn't really the Rick that was.  Or at least, the Rick that she seemed 
to remember.  

     These musings occupied Regina Diamond as she walked along the mall.   
As the week had passed she had thought a few times about the location  for 
the little shop, and couldn't really remember where it was, so she had decided 
to wear her rich persona and just enjoy the shopping until she  came across it.  
Which indeed she did.

     The tiny bell caroled cheerfully as she walked into the dusty  store. This 
time, the old man was sitting behind the counter waiting for her.

     "So, Rick, how much have you decided my cards were worth?"

     "All that I have, of course," the elegant woman replied.

     "In that form, that's quite a bit," the old man chuckled.

     "Well, I can't seem to go back to my old life," she smiled.

     The wizard gave her a sharper look, "Do you want to?"

     "You already know the answer to that."

     "Yes, I suppose I do," he smiled.

     "I'll tell you what," he continued.  "I'll let you pick one card  and  keep it.  
Whoever you become will have access to Rick Applegate's  assets.   You can 
make a donation to an appropriate charity in lieu of paying me  for the use of 
the cards."  

     The blonde looked at the old man with one shapely brow arched into 
discreet incredulity.  "Any card I want?"

     "Hand them to me," he ordered.  

     She produced the cards and he laid them out, face down, on the  counter 
in front of him.  All five cards.

     "Pick a card."

     "But I might get the Joker card."

     "Yes, you might," he said calmly.  "Or I can just change you back to Rick 
and you can go back to your old life."

     She looked at the cards for a long time.  Being Rick, was that so bad?  
Certainly better than the Joker.  But so alone, too.  Alone even before he had 
lost Shelly.  In truth, he had never really had Shelly.   He had known deep in 
his heart that she had not loved him, but his time as Regina D'Amour had 
shown Rick that he had not truly loved his wife, either.  Perhaps that Rick 
was not even capable of love.  He was too  much in control all the time, too 
careful.  Even Regina Shadow felt more thrill as she stalked a target than Rick 
had ever felt.  

     The only good choices were women.  A week ago that would have made 
the decision obvious.  A week ago Rick would not have had any more  
interest in being a woman than in being the Joker.

     But even the Joker, Snyder as they left him, had his wife in bed with him 
instead of out playing around.  Was anything worse than being alone?  

     Regina looked at the old man one last time, then reached out and  chose a 
card.  Without even looking at it, she fled from the shop.  

     The old man wasn't worried.  He knew that she would eventually be  
forced by her own curiosity to look at the card.  It would only take an instant 
this time to capture her attention.  Transition would happen  simultaneously 
with recognition of what the choice had been.  

     He chuckled to himself as he picked up the remaining cards.  It  would 
have been so easy to force the choice to whatever he had wanted.   Still, Rick 
hadn't killed the predatory Snyder when he had the chance.   He had chosen 
an alternative even before he knew of the Joker card's  existence, so the old 
man had decided Rick could choose his own fate.   It truly had been a random 
choice.  

     The wizard looked at the remaining cards to see what one had been  
selected.  He chuckled again as he conjured a replacement, then placed the 
five cards back into the little box behind the counter.     

(fin)