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Double Trouble stared absent-mindedly into the mirror. It was something they found themselves doing quite often on those occasions when they were alone, which was most of the time. It wasn't something they did purely out of vanity (though they had to admit, they were rather pleased with the body they'd crafted for themselves); rather, it was an act which helped them to reminisce.
Today, as they regarded their reflection with silent approval, they cast their mind back to the countless days spent in front of various mirrors in various towns, practicing their shapeshifting, impersonating people they found particularly annoying, or tweaking their personal appearance here and there. That last part was what made up the bulk of the memories.
Not too long ago, when they had presented themselves to the Horde captains who had showed up at their current town of residence, one of them, Catra, had asked them if the face they were presenting was "what they really looked like". Double Trouble had found themselves surprisingly confounded by the question, only able to give the rather non-committal answer "More or less". The fact was; a lifetime spent as a shapeshifter had a habit of making one forget that sort of thing.
Double Trouble had been able to shapeshift quite well from a young age, and had been modifying their appearance since before they could remember. All those days spent in front of a mirror, they always involved altering something. A little more green in the skin, a little more pointiness to the ears, a little more sharpness to the teeth; the list went on. Even thinking as far back into their childhood as they could, they couldn't quite picture the face they had been born with, or their voice for that matter. They had raised and deepened it so many times that there was no telling how they had once sounded. All that knowledge was lost to that misty period of time too early in their life for the memories to survive into adulthood.
What surprised Double Trouble though was the fact that, upon realising that they couldn't remember their original identity, they didn't feel the way they had thought they would. Most beings in that situation would have felt some sort of loss; perhaps regret at losing a part of themselves. Double Trouble though, had felt proud. The loss of that knowledge felt like an achievement. Now, even if someone somehow found a way to probe their mind, their past would forever be a mystery. Was that not the ultimate triumph of an actor? To be so accomplished at creating a character as to lose oneself in it entirely?
Granted, fooling the Rebellion and the Horde was so easy at times that it sometimes took the challenge out of it; they didn't even need to take on a character to do it. It still gave them a little tingle of pleasure every time they walked past someone in their 'natural' form, and that person had no notion that the appearance they were showing was anything other than what they were born with. It especially tickled them when their chosen form confused the non-shifters' restrictive mind-sets. Earlier that very day, while out on a stroll around the Fright Zone to get acquainted to their new surroundings, they had passed a pair of Horde soldiers. As they passed, they had heard one remark "Woah, who's that. She's way too hot for this dump." Only for the other to reply "Um… I think that's a dude, dude". Double Trouble had walked just out of their eyeshot, and stuck around just long enough to listen in on the ensuing debate. It had taken every ounce of effort they possessed not to give themselves away with laughter.
Neither of those guards would ever be able to wrap their heads around what Double Trouble was, and the rest of the Horde and Rebellion were the same. Double Trouble's species were relatively unknown to the other races, and as a result, there was no known benchmark anyone could measure them against. For all anyone knew, all the members of their species were androgynous, green, pointy-eared reptilians; and indeed perhaps they were; Double Trouble hadn't seen another of their kind in their true form for so long that they had long forgotten themselves.
And that was really the problem; the one thought that still irritated them in what was supposed to be a happy moment: their people were wasting their talents. For as long as they could remember, Double Trouble had known the story of their peoples' history. When the Horde had arrived on Etheria, Hordak had been keen to wipe out any potential threats, and in their fear, the Rebellion had been much the same. A race of shapeshifters was not exactly welcomed by two opposing sides both terrified of duplicity. The shapeshifters were cast out of the Rebellion's territory, and the Horde wasted no time in wiping out all but the few who swore fealty, or were able to go to ground quickly enough.
That story was all well and good, but in Double Trouble's mind it still didn't justify their peoples' behaviour. These days, the majority of them spent their lives in a single disguise, posing as lowly farmers or traders; anyone who wouldn't draw too much attention. That was no way for a shapeshifter to live their life. Where was the fun? Where was the art? From adolescence, Double Trouble had resolved never to be like that; to live as the contradiction their own people were afraid to be: A shapeshifter who used their power to bend society to their whims; a being who hid everything about themselves, yet refused to hide themselves from the world. That was what their kind was capable of. That was how Double Trouble wanted to live.
Their purpose reaffirmed, they allowed a grin to creep back onto their face, flashing the sharp row of teeth they had picked out long ago. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of revisions, but for now, this body was perfect. And now, they were going to use it, and as many other faces as they needed, to throw the world around them into chaos. The world, after all, was their stage, and the rabble of the Rebellion and Horde their audience. Double Trouble was about to put on their star performance. Their audience deserved nothing less.