Superhero life? Super-Sized troubles!

In the end, nothing was decided in that first meeting. Both sides had known it would be so coming in; for them it had been a first look at the only, to my knowledge, person with powers that had come to them rather than being recruited or being a surviving soldier that had fought in the invasion. For me it had been the one chance to set or at least influence the tempo of future interactions between the government and heroes. We'd both been wearing masks; what remained to be seen was how much either side had projected what they wanted to appear as and how much they'd perceived of the other side's true colors.

Both the gold and the spinning disc had been left for government scientists to examine. I doubted they'd find much. The former was a hundred percent pure, leaving no traces of where it had come from or how. When they realized where I'd spent the last few months they'd probably think it came from asteroid mining. As for the spinning disc, I'd given them the impression I could make simple telekinetic effects permanent. The good thing about fighting in melee like a brawler was how everyone saw you as one, then missed the implications of phrases like "force adjustment" and "force redirection". Unfortunately, the underestimation did not quite save me from my escort.

"I can't believe you tried to bribe your way out of paying taxes," Agent Stone said, incredulity warring with amusement in his tone even as his face remained largely expressionless. "I mean, what superhero does that?"

"All of them?" We left the conference-slash-interrogation room behind us and moved deeper into the gloomy underground tunnel. The lack of proper lighting and the musty tang of the air made it seem more like a cave than a base. Or the base it will one day become, given how unfinished and empty every room looked. "I doubt a reporter could afford a giant fortress in the arctic and how many genius playboys declared their underground or orbital bases to the IRS? There's countless crimes involved with being a superhero beyond the obvious vigilantism charges, which is why I wanted a government waiver in the first place."

"I can already hear the arguments your requests are going to cause," the thirty-something redhead said with a chuckle. "Thank all the powers that be handling that is not in my job description." We were going through a part of the tunnels that was entirely empty, except for a power line just lying on the concrete floor and the occasional halogen lighting.

"Speaking of which, what exactly is your job description Agent Stone?" Why had he been sent to follow me around and not, say, a group of guards? "And where exactly are we going? This part of the base doesn't look very functional."

"Most of the base isn't," he carefully stepped over the power line then slowed down as we went on almost as if... oh, right, most people wouldn't be able to see well in the gloom, would they? "One of the first areas completed was the gym, which doubles as a testing chamber. It's the deepest and most secure part of the tunnels by necessity so most of the half-finished sections are between it and the working facilities."

"Don't you mean it is IN the deepest part of the tunnels?" Neither of us brought up the first question he'd not so cleverly sidestepped.

As it turns out, he really did mean the gym was the deepest part of the tunnels. We eventually stopped before a metal wall that was at least six feet thick, with a vault-like, cylindrical door that was pulled back and rolled aside by heavy hydraulics. Unlike in a bank vault, the door itself was solid and significantly denser than steel; its eight hundred ton bulk made a horrible grinding, squealing sound as it was opened. Beyond it stood a series of contraptions that were still recognizably exercise machines... except the smallest of them was the size of a car and they grew in size the deeper we walked.

This part of the tunnels was straighter and gave off a truly cavernous atmosphere, due to its lack of dividing walls. Beyond the exercise machines and other instruments the tunnel extended into the darkness for another half-mile, empty of anything except a giant obstacle course that seemed to be fused to the walls. Said walls were metal too, and beyond them was not concrete but a much stronger material between ceramic and organic. Had I been a chemist I might have discovered more but as I was not I could only rely on my awareness of forces for its rough physical properties, and the material's name remained unknown.

"This... is not a gym, is it?" At a second glance, many of the obstacles in the tunnel were shaped like vehicles of various sizes, others like the corners of buildings. What I'd thought were simple if narrow barricades had the images of people painted on them.

"It can work as a gym," Agent Stone hedged and I gave that answer the respect it deserved by snorting derisively. "OK, it's also an urban warfare course, made to somewhat simulate the crowded streets and narrow sight lines of a city. All of our research so far has shown that powers are fed through conflict, defeating opponents and challenges. If we could provide that even in part to any future recruits while also teaching them how to limit collateral damage... all projections said it would help."

"Well, they weren't wrong," but not entirely correct either and generalizations could lead to serious errors. Especially since powers were consciously or subconsciously tailored by their users, and may people with said powers would very much want to screw over the government. For friendly newbies though, the course could work... which they should have already known instead of relying on projections. Unless... "Just how many other supers have you managed to recruit?"

"This facility is brand-new Miss Wennefer. Unfinished, even. There wasn't time..."

"Yes, yes, new facilities, forces stretched thin, you've said so before. But be honest with me; how many supers of significant power do you currently have on roster?" He quickly opened his mouth to give me a canned reply but I cut him off. "Those that are clearly more powerful or useful than a tank, across the whole country?"

"...twelve," he finally replied and something told me that number may not be a very objective or even honest tally.

This was going to be harder than I'd initially thought...

xxxx

The jaws of the titanic hydraulic press descended with glacial slowness, a metal cylinder as thick and wide as a washing machine seeking to reunite with its compatriot below. Between them, trapped as in the maw of a predator, lay a delicate hand of flesh and blood.

"Fifty!"

OK, not nearly so delicate; I barely felt the pressure as hardened metal plate met my hand, and my hand endured. It was only annoying because of how long it took to ramp up, but the researchers insisted on going slowly to avoid "unfortunate accidents".

"One hundred!"

The mousy old Professor had an impressively loud voice for his size, but then he had to in order to do this kind of testing and still be heard over the whine of the hydraulic press. What he and his pair of interns were trying to do were to measure both my strength and durability with this simple test. I'd told them this was not going to work, that powers were not nearly as simple to measure but they had insisted.

"Two hundred!"

Agent Stone had, naturally, supported them. The government had wanted to test my powers ostensibly to better understand my capabilities and make use of me in the field. In reality, there was no way they didn't have contingencies and countermeasures in mind. It was effectively the first clash in our tentative cooperation and we'd barely even met. On one hand, I couldn't really fault them for being paranoid given the number of villains around. On the other, giving them an idea of my exact limitations could prove to be bad for my health in the future. But I had a plan for that.

"Eight hundred!"

As the amount of force kept ramping up, I was beginning to think the tiny Professor might not be a scientist after all. The hydraulic press was giving a read of eight million Newton for the total force it applied, so why was he shouting the equivalent in tons, which was entirely the wrong unit? Maybe some of the politicians secretly watching the live feed had no idea what Newtons were, or something. That thought made me smile despite being treated like a glorified Guinea pig by my supposed allies.

"Sixteen hundred!"

Oh well. If they insisted on being rude then I could be rude back. The pressure against my arm was beginning to become uncomfortable. Without force manipulation, a thousand tons were about the limit of what I could lift. By messing with gravity I could lift far more than that but that was less lifting and more making things lighter to begin with. Similar manipulation could magnify my punches or reduce incoming damage, but playing with physical laws wasn't remotely the same mechanism as strength. Trying to spoof advanced instruments much further was going to get complex and eventually the Professor's better knowledge of physics would get me caught.

"Thirty-two hundred!"

I winced. My powers however could be focused to achieve greater results in much the same way focusing the same total force could achieve higher pressures; the punch stopping against a wall but a hammered nail going in. Similarly, my Force Adjustment did not have to alter all forces upon me, or all the forces the hydraulic press could exert. It could be narrowed down to a single, specific interaction - the pressure exerted to me by the hydraulic press - as long as I was familiar enough with that interaction and had about a minute to adjust the effect. I was and I had so an alteration of physical law finally settled and that interaction was negated. Suddenly, my previously painfully squished arm felt all the weight on it going away.

"Six and a half thousand!"

From that point on it did not matter how high the pressure went; as far as my arm was concerned a feather would have more of an effect.

"Twelve thousand!"

The jaws of the press were beginning to creak ominously. Supposedly, the device had been rated for up to fifty thousand tons but that was for relatively even applications against materials that deformed or compressed; even normally incompressible fluids would if the pressure ramped high enough. Against an uneven surface that was completely immovable, the machine behaved quite differently. The tungsten alloy it had been made of was incredibly stiff and resilient but mundane matters had limits; I could already see microfractures forming.

"Twenty-four thousand!"

My own focus narrowed down as I brought a second ability to bear. The same second seemed to stretch on and on until with a crack louder than a thunderbolt the jaws of the hydraulic press shattered. For a room-sized machine capable of no more than four million Newton of force, such shattered pieces could bring down brick walls, shatter bulletproof glass and reduce people to bloody bits. For a house-sized machine failing at two hundred forty million Newton, the fragments could go through tank armor.

Hundreds of fragments ranging in size from a dime to that of a medium shopping bag spun through the air, tearing through the protective barriers - two inches of transparent aluminum - as if they weren't there. Then they rapidly slowed until they came to a stop in mid-air as time stood still. Well, not really; I was simply moving outside it. I got off my seat and flew towards the nearest intern. Every moment was as tiring as running around a city block would have been to an unpowered person. Less than it had once been, but still exhausting in the long term.

The intern did not react as I scooped him up in a princess carry and moved him out of the room. Neither did the other intern, or the Professor himself; for them it would be as if no time had passed at all. Had they possessed any amount of supernatural power they would have been beyond my ability to move like this, but they didn't so everything was OK.

...OK, not really. There was still the explosion to deal with. I flew at the largest, most dangerous pieces, those that would hit like artillery shells. Then I pushed them, not just moving them around but stopping their outwards trajectory. The smaller pieces were far more numerous though, and I was already beginning to sweat. Thus I took hold of the nearest wall firmly and reduced any forces it and any adjacent surfaces would take from the explosion. My influence spread like an invisible film and then I let go of my hold on the flow of time...

xxxx

"I told you it was not going to work," I was complaining to Agent Stone only a minute later while shaking metal dust out of my hair and clothes. "Tell me we got a bathroom."

"This facility does, indeed, have a bathroom..." he said and trailed off.

"And?" I glared at him in suspicion.

"It... should be operational sometime tomorrow..." In an amazing showing of self-control, I held back from kicking his ass and then making him feel like I had just kicked his ass for the rest of his natural life.

"Great, just great!" I threw my arms towards the concrete ceiling above and kicked a piece of transparent aluminum at the nearest wall. The wall being solid steel for at least two feet, the piece shattered into fine dust. Then the dust flew up and formed the word "FUCK!" in two-foot glittering letters in mid-air. "Do me a favor; next time you and your group of hacks have an idea and I tell you it is a dumb-ass idea, do listen to the expert with months' worth of power use under her belt."

"But it shouldn't ha-"

"I don't want to hear it!" I interrupted him and got up. "I'll be in my room, waiting for the rest of you to realize that powers are dangerous, unpredictable and none of you had any idea what you're doing!" I stomped off for a good eight steps then stopped. "Hey, which way is my room in?" If everything went well, the fifty million plus in damages will make them rethink any further poking at my powers and hopefully make me seem more trustworthy.

Because sometimes, for a hero to save lives the politicians had to be treated like mushrooms.