Superhero life? Super-Sized troubles!

Three hundred hostages holding magic knives to their own throats. One shadowy bad guy that might be a ghost, a remote sending, an illusion or something else because there was zero matter or energy to his - its? - form. One 'request' for civilized conversation, with the obvious threat of what would happen should I not agree. There was only one option for the time being.

"What did you do to them?!" I demanded loudly, glowering at the red-eyed shadowy figure for good measure. The option was to stall, while looking for possible ways out of this for the civilians in superspeed.

"Oh don't worry your pretty little head, they are perfectly fine," the shadowy bad guy chortled. "Trapped in their frail human bodies, free to see and hear and feel and think as they will... but with their bodies following my every desire. Neat, huh?"

"It's disgusting, that's what it is," I said with a shudder that I didn't really have to feign. "The worst kind of slavery with their own body being their prison." I shuddered again. I had... issues with confinement but this was not the time for trips down memory lane. i was supposed to be thinking of a solution.

"Is it really so bad to give up your freedom in service to a higher power?" the Big Bad was asking, his shadowy body floating around me in slow circles. "To be protected from the harshness of the world, shielded from the depredations of others, empowered to accomplish your dreams? Many would give much for such a gift. Many more have killed for it."

"Gift? Self-determination is the purpose of life and the duty of all." Standing where I was, doing what I was doing, it felt right to speak those words. "As for killing, it is a sign of weakness. Of one who lacks the power, the intelligence, or the self-control to succeed without destroying others." I shrugged. "Plus it feels wrong and that's enough for me."

"Is that what you believe, little hero?" the shadow hissed menacingly. "Let's put it to the test, shall we? A wager, if you feel so secure in your self-righteousness. A difficult task for you here and now, one nigh-impossible without getting your hands dirty but oh so easy if you do. And for every twenty heartbeats you are not done, one of the little people that thought they were great will perish by their own hand." The wraith stopped circling me and stared into my eyes in challenge.

"Those terms are not just horrible, they are insulting." Mostly because to take the deal I would have to be the most vain, conceited and blind person ever, with a blatant disregard for the lives of others and willing to sacrifice them to serve my own ego. But also because... "Measuring time in heartbeats with no qualifications? There are eight billion people on this planet, the hostages would be dead before I could blink."

"At least you're somewhat intelligent," the shadow whispered then floated over the still-unconscious idiot of a villain. "This one here wasn't. He bargained for the power to achieve his goals but not how that power would be gained or what form it would take. He bargained for a hero that would be his opposite, not specifying in what ways that opposition would manifest. He bargained for a place in the stage of the world, not defining what that place should be or how long it should last." The ominous spirit tsked. "All in all a poor showing. And poor showings lack a certain substance."

He suddenly stood before me, having changed positions so quickly I almost had not seen him move... but only almost. Looming up close, he looked me up and down, from front and back, glowing crimson eyes trailing my every feature.

"You do not appear to be similarly lacking, little hero. That is good, but denying what you are is not." He cackled again. Frankly, the repetitions were becoming annoying. "You of the bloody triumph and change by force. If you will not wager these pitiful creatures, if you will stand by them, perhaps you can be made to obey to protect them." The shadow's meaning was clear enough, causing me to clench my fists and glare back. "You are angry, that is good. Shall we bargain?"

"Let's not," I said, finally fed up with his bullshit. Then I stepped outside of time. I'd claimed I would neither wager nor bargain, but I was wagering now, taking a risk that the bad guy could not follow me through Instant Action. It had been either that or playing along with his demands, because I could see no other solution.

Mindful of my limited time, I ran to the closest delegate and looked at the old Japanese man with Force Awareness. Nothing. No unusual forces or abilities seemed to be acting on him... or at least none Force Awareness could detect. Whatever the shadow's powers were, we worked on entirely different wavelengths, unable to detect or interact with each other's workings. This was both good and bad. Good, because he could not follow into or prevent Instant Action. Bad, because I could neither free the hostages from possession nor prevent them from killing themselves with their loaned shadow powers... or could I?

A wave of my hand through the space the blade occupied shattered it without a trace. The principle of reciprocity still applied then; if they could cut through matter and impart force, then matter could break them and force be imparted on them. Problem was, I had no idea how strong the shadow powers coming from the hostages were. Just powerful enough to make knives? As strong as that idiot's shields and chains? More? Nothing for it, then, but putting in full effort. Touching the closest hostage I layered him with a force field, one that would prevent him from moving but still allow him to breathe or blink. It would also repel the Big Bad's shadow constructs too; if they were weaker they'd be deflected or shattered, if they were just as strong simply stopped. If they were stronger? Well, there was a reason the field was as powerful as I could make it. And then, I gave it a charge of magic to make it last.

A small but noticeable portion of my stamina was used up to fuel the force field, on top of the steady trickle drained by Instant Action. Quickly I moved to the next hostage, rapidly forming another field. Too slowly and I'd run out of time as it was steadily costing me stamina like intense exercise turned up to eleven. Too quickly, and the cost of forming a stable force field skyrocketed. It was a delicate balancing I could only manage thanks to long practice with my powers as well as the new boosts that helped with precision. Finding a pacing that worked, I shifted between hostages every four seconds.

The first few times only took a bit of concentration. By the twentieth, I was warming up. Another thirty delegates protected later, sweat started running down my face and throat. Another twenty and I found breathing was taking some effort too, now. By the hundredth hostage, I was panting, a little thirsty and red in the face. There was no water to be found, of course, not unless I stopped my weaving of protective barriers to go looking for it in the basement or the restrooms in other floors. After twelve more people shielded and hopefully safe from immediate harm, I was beginning to suspect I would not make it. A hundred and twelve people shielded and I was already feeling my body slowing down. There was no way to layer defenses on another a hundred and ninety eight; they were simply too many. But the cost of my constructs depended on volume and strength and duration at a pretty fixed rate; creating a lot of constructs repeatedly did not make it any easier because it was not really a matter of skill any more than doing a given work could change in cost beyond a certain point no matter the skill.

I started stretching the barriers over two adjacent people each. That made it thinner, weaker, but as with many other things there simply wasn't any other option. By the two hundredth hostage I was panting heavily. By the two hundredth and fiftieth, I was sweating like a pig. From then on it became a slog, pair after protected pair like going up stairs in an infinite staircase, while chased by bad guys. I clenched my fists, held my head down and settled into it as my muscles seemed to burn. It didn't become much harder than that after that point, but maybe that was the exhaustion speaking. All the previous fights had offered some temporary energy, a boost, due to progressive regeneration. But that boost scaled with damage and faded after the fight; the breaks between the battles had let it weaken and the brief discussion with the Big Bad had let the last of it vanish. The fight with that strength and speed copier had burned through some of my reserves; maybe if I hadn't made a mistake I would have finished all the shields properly. Finally I was done, and not a moment too soon. Only a few seconds after going over the last pair and ensuring their defense was stable despite the intense strain over the last five castings, Instant Action collapsed.

"You seek to flee?" the shadow demanded the moment he saw I'd vanished only to reappear at the back of the stands from his perspective. Immediately several of the hostages tried to move but strain as they might they could not. Moments after that there was a pressure on the defenses from no apparent source, but it snapped off without any shadow blade growing. Now that I thought about it, had any of the constructs ever appeared on their own without extending from someone possessed? No space to grow due to skintight protection, no shadow constructs it would seem. "No, not flee. You warded the weaklings... but it cost you."

"Most good things do," I quipped then I tried to catch my breath.

"Oh?" the Big Bad floated closer again. I sent an invisible blade of force at him but it moved through his form like, well, like through a shadow; no resistance, no impact because nothing appeared to be there. "Let's see how costly granting that protection was." A thick stream of shadow lanced out, not a coherent object like before but more like smoke. It splashed against my face and immediately there was a pressure, something trying to enter through my mouth and nose. Not like a real object though, the pressure was not physical and closing my mouth and pinching my nostrils did not stop the sense of intrusion.

Not wanting to be intruded upon, rejecting the shadowy asshole who was obviously going for another possession gambit? That worked just fine. I'd been on the receiving end of mental effects before. Has I been fresh the possession attempt would have been nothing more than some mist scattered at the first touch. Now it was like smoke from a cigarette; a cloying, lingering stench that was annoying and lingered but hold your breath for a moment and you can walk through it or have it swept away by a breeze. In short, it was not particularly impressive.

"I'd give you 'A' for effort, shady guy, but a big fat 'F' for effect," I told him and it was my time to laugh. "Take your cut-rate Imperius curse to someone else. Or can you only affect unpowered people?" Obviously he'd possessed that idiot, but that had seemed more like a willing carrier to me. I wanted to kick him on his way and get over this whole mess, too, but that was only because he had not even noticed my repeated attempts to slice him to bits. I doubted punching was going to work either.

"No, I think it only needs a bit of extra work," he said menacingly as he loomed closer. "You should have made that wager instead."

"Why, are you gonna- ARGHHH!!"

Energy crackled over my body, wracking my every nerve with pain then numbness. I found myself on my hands and knees, my limbs shaking as four eight-foot-tall linebackers walked out of a patch of shadow. They were the same guys I'd knocked out earlier, except they were healed... and the shadowy bastard must have concealed them in an illusion or something.

"Wonderful things, tasers," the Big Bad was monologuing again. "So little power yet effective in their niche. I tried to upscale them, there were complications but I think I got them right. What do you think?"

Instead of answering I shakily got to my feet to see all four of those overmuscled enhanced downing the contents of a small bottle each. They were liquid, they were glowing, and my senses insisted they were a mix of spinach and cranberry juice with a lethal mix of chemicals added for flavor. Even as I watched the enhanced men were growing, their bone and muscle getting denser from nowhere, their nerves and muscle fiber twitching faster, their bodies bloating up in a grotesque way reminiscent of the most extreme body builders. Then I realized I should not just be watching and forced myself to the air in a grunt of effort.

With a grunt of his own, the nearest musclehead reached out lightning fast, grabbed me by the right ankle and slammed me into the ground. The building shook, the floor cracked, the blow actually hurt a little. I was about to kick the guy off when one of his friends grabbed my other leg.

"Fine, be that way," I muttered and flew up, carrying them along for the ride. They were nowhere near my weight limit so the flight should have been easy if not for the fatigue, and the mental attack, and that quadruple super-taser shot. Feeling more than a bit vindictive and justified for it, I blasted them with an eyebeam each, followed by slices of invisible force. The eyebeams fizzled - right, that damn supertech gadget - but the sharp force-fields cut through their mesh armor and deep into their flesh.

The now near-giant enhanced did not cry in pain, or wince, or react at all. They doggedly held on, trying to punch the same leg each of them were holding on to. They felt like kiddie league blows but from the fact I felt them at all it was clear they were still getting stronger. Then double red-hot spikes struck at my lower back, or so it felt. My body arched and shook painfully from the dual shock, flight cutting off to drop us to the ground once more. The big guys landed on their feet, pointed their off-hands with those metal gloves at me and threw another double dose of shock down my front. I gasped and shook, managing to give one of the near-giants a flailing punch to the side that audibly cracked ribs, the other a backhand that flattened his nose.

"No, no, it needs some good group effort," the shadow-asshole commanded and floated closer. Why was he even speaking, didn't he have those guys possessed? "Like this." Chains of shadow stretched out of him, wrapping around my arms. They either were a lot stronger than the ones his idiot patsy had used, or I was having a hard time fighting properly. They caught on to me and with some effort I broke them. Then they got me again and I broke them again, then a third time and a fourth. "All together now," the shadow said, and I got who he was talking to. He was laughing at my expense.

Before I could get back at him, four super-tasers struck my front as one. I shook and writhed and shouted but though they took near-crippling blows the two enhanced held onto my legs while my largely uncoordinated attack played out. Then their other two friends pounced, grabbing an arm each. With four of them holding on and concentrating on my powers near-impossible after the last shock, I could not budge them. They slammed me to the floor again and the floor collapsed in a shower of broken masonry that didn't hurt except by getting dust into my eyes.

"Careful, we don't want to collapse the building yet," the Big Bad crooned then floated until he was face to face. "But I think we're getting somewhere. Let's keep it up and see what happens." Another four energy bolts grounded through me, locking every muscle in my body for several seconds. At the same time, the same smoky stream of the possession magic was pushed against my face. It didn't go anywhere, but it didn't make things any more pleasant. "No, it needs more work."

From there, the bad guys' attacks took on a regular rhythm. First they'd give me a quad super-taser shot to shock my body and disrupt my focus while the Big Bad tried his possession spell. Then, while their gadgets took a bit to recharge they'd kick repeatedly with their big stompy feet for six or seven seconds, trying to get some damage in. As soon as the taser-gauntlets were ready it was shocking time again, then possession attempt, then more hits.

None of the attacks were even as strong as the kids had given me in sparring, but the point wasn't to win in one hit or even injure heavily. It was a one-two-three punch perfect to keep most supers too disoriented to fight back. Like a boxer that had caught an opponent in the back foot, they were piling the hits to widen their advantage. The first time they did it in the chamber above I was a bit shaky but kicking. The second quad tasing and them working together had left me staggered and uncoordinated. The third, after we collapsed to the basement, had left me dazed for a few seconds - but a few seconds was all the one-two-three punch took to repeat. The proverbial boxer had his opponent in the corner now, working her over while she was too stunned to fight. Slowly the bruises were piling up, the muscles locked for longer and soon, the inevitable would come.

"Something's off," the Big Bad smelled a rat. "She should have been knocked out by now."

"Yeah," I grunted and sent all four of the meatheads reeling with a much stronger Proximakinesis blast than normal. I stood up, then grunted as four super-tasers fired off. It locked me up for maybe half a second. "You're not the only one good at theatricality." I stretched, getting the kinks out of my body as it healed up, the regeneration charged up along with everything else.

The minions didn't give up that easily. They got out knives of all things, though knives that looked magical to my senses. Unfortunately for them, it wasn't nearly the same fight it had been before. Faster than they could react, I delivered blows that staggered them, broke limbs, delivered concussions or cracked jaws with the first strike. They got a few stabs in and those actually managed to pierce through my costume and give me a few shallow cuts that healed up faster than they could bleed. Then they were all down and twitching feebly. Unlike the cornered boxer, I'd done a very brutal comeback because if your enemy can bring you down with four enhanced goons and a bit of roughhousing, you deserve to lose.

"They are dying, aren't they?" I asked conversationally while quietly palming a magic dagger. "Overdosing on whatever gave them their powers. Two hours, maybe three. If I hadn't had to put them down hard, possibly..." I shook my head. "Shame."

"I told you you'd get your hands bloody," the shadow said with glee, both as if revealing something incredibly profound and proving that he was just an evil asshole. "What will you do now, hero?"

"Wait for the authorities to take the hostages to safety, probably," I mused then stretched both my hands over my head and incidentally snatching another weapon. "Then go punch some monsters that are easy targets to work off this frustration." I rotated my head, my spine cracking audibly. Another metal bit found its way to me, as well. "Violent workouts are great and energizing and all, but sometimes a girl needs to relax, you know?"

"You think you've won because you survived a few minions? I have hundreds!" the shade roared his anger as he grew and grew, covering half the basement. "That I'll let those mortals go? I will parade them on the streets, have them kill all that come close with borrowed powers. I'll send them after their own families, after kids in your little apprentice gatherings!"

"They're called schools," I informed who I was now certain had to be some magical entity summoned from beyond Earth rather than a human with powers. "You become a lot more bitchy and boringly evil when you don't get your way, don't you?" It was my time to mock for effect and I thoroughly enjoyed it. "You lost your best chance to possess me while I had no idea you existed and you caught me by surprise. All this 'set up an encounter with a hero' that idiot thought he wanted, you were just looking for the best possession target, weren't you?"

I ran my hands down my body provocatively. "Well, you can't have this awesome target right here and I'm suspecting you can't get too far and keep the hostages under your thrall either. Otherwise you'd have just taken over a major government and bidden your time." I turned to face him, stretching my arms behind my back again. "So you either stay here and wait for more heroes that can potentially hurt you... or flee like a little bitch." I stalked, almost strutted closer. "So what will it be... bitch?"

"I will go, and prepare, and return when you least expect it," he loomed even larger and more terrible. "And then we'll see whether you'll escape my snare again, little hero."

"Maybe... but you know what they say about overconfidence."

Before he could react, I threw all four of the magic daggers at well beyond the speed of sound. Perhaps they wouldn't have hurt him under normal circumstances, but I'd enhanced all four of them to magnify their impact as far as I could, to pierce physical barriers and disintegrate conjured objects. Believing himself invulnerable, the shade had also made himself a huge target in his attempt to intimidate me. Two of the daggers slammed into his center of mass like antimateriel shots on a human, spilling shredded shadow-stuff everywhere. The other two found those eerie red eyes of his and pierced straight through, coring what passed for the shade's head instantly.

The dark spirit screamed, an inhuman, impossibly loud wail that cracked the walls, warped the floor, and caused every bit of furniture and storage box in the basement to rot in an instant. Then, still wailing and trailing shadow-stuff from both ends of all four holes I'd drilled into him, the specter vanished into the ground.

I'd hoped for a kill, but he'd proven too powerful for that and I had no means to stop him. He was almost certainly going to survive even such grievous injuries - in my experience undead were notoriously hard to kill for their level of power - and probably make good of his promise to... deal with me. Never give an enemy a small injury, they say, but mine should be good for some time.

And if he came? I now had four magic daggers and a hell of an incentive to learn how to harm spirits like him.