In which a superhero meets his match, masks are uncovered and a mad scientist just tries to get some mad science-ing done without getting distracted by the antics of her magical minion.

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Shade – Ian, your name is Ian, he admonished himself – stared at himself in the mirror.

He looked terrible. Granted, that was a thought he often had when catching glimpses of himself in the mirror, no matter how often women called him handsome. But today he looked pretty damn wrecked.

His body was slick with sweat from an intense workout that had entirely failed to reduce his stress levels, and his messy hair was sticking out in all directions. But it was the dark circles under his eyes that worried him.

He had hardly slept. Could barely eat. His thoughts kept circling back to two nights before.

To Diane.

To Kara.

He had no idea where the hell he had pulled that name from, but it had felt so… right.

Ian exhaled wearily and turned from his reflection – only to do a double take as something on his back caught his eye. His back was flawless well-muscled perfection. He frowned, turning fully and looking over his shoulder.

Five years ago, shortly after he took up the cape, he’d gotten grievously injured in battle with the Executioner, who’d been the first to match Shade’s skill in hand-to-hand combat. The professional assassin had damn near severed his spine, putting him in the hospital. It had been a valuable lesson in overconfidence.

The scar reminding him of that lesson was gone. The skin on his back was entirely smooth, rippling slightly when he moved his muscles.

Ian’s frown deepened. He couldn’t remember when he last had actually consciously looked at the scar running from his right shoulder blade all the way to his waist. It had just always been there. Had it faded without him noticing?

His highly analytical and expertly honed mind arrived at a brilliant conclusion: Weird.

He shrugged and walked away from the mirror, rubbing his aching eyes. Ian had no idea what to do with himself now. His gaze lingered on his training equipment for a long moment. He’d already been doing that for hours, and it wasn’t helping him calm down. He couldn’t put on his costume either – while he’d ordered a new type of earpieces with a new frequency, they weren’t ready yet. His gaze strayed once again to the nearby hallway.

Ian knew exactly what never failed to help him unwind.

But given the situation at hand, it was a terrible idea. Just terrible.

His feet carried him to his bedroom anyway.

He knelt down, opening a hidden compartment in his drawer, swallowing loudly. After he’d purged his sizable collection, he’d had to order new ones. Just three – one MIA in the museum, and god, he hoped no one had found that – so far, though he had no doubt his obsession would soon drive him to buy more. Until he invariable got rid of them again, to begin the cycle anew.

He unbuttoned his jeans, sliding out of his briefs and kicking them away. Then he reverently picked up the black silk with delicate red highlights, slowly, very slowly sliding the soft fabric over his smooth legs.

Ian closed his eyes, exhaling with relief. That felt… better.

Yet his muscles were still knotted with tension. He cracked his eyes open, gaze falling on the other item he’d bought. A black and red bra, to match the panties he was now wearing. They had been on sale together.

The line. There was a line.

Let’s cross it, her voice whispered in his head.

Her claws easily sliced away the leather around Kara’s torso, revealing her bare chest.

“There’s a zipper,” she pointed out, dazed, barely even caring that her uniform was getting sliced to pieces.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Diane giggled, tongue darting out to lick the inside of Kara’s ear, who moaned and silently concurred. Then Diane leaned back, seeming to admire the view. A low growl emanated from her throat.

She reached out, resting her hands on Kara’s flat chest, her thumb slowly circling her small nipples.

“Tsk, tsk, Kara. Going out in public without a bra.” She laughed and lowered her head, capturing the tiny nub between her lips. “What a naughty girl you are.”

“Yes,” Kara breathed, delirious, unaware of anything but the pure ecstasy flooding her senses. “I am.”

Kara blinked, having reached for the bra without consciously willing it.

He’d already crossed the line, hadn’t he? Crossed it, desecrated it and then set it on fire. What more harm could this possibly do at this point?

His fingers were shaking, fumbling with the clasp, his nerves almost failing him. He hastily drew the straps over his shoulders, adjusting them and the cups as best as he could.

Kara gazed down at himself, lips curling into an almost smile at the sight. The cups were subtly padded, creating the illusion of – very, very small – breasts.

She dashed in front of the mirror, excited – and then her face fell.

He looked like a man wearing women’s underwear, nothing more.

Ian silently undid the clasp, blinking rapidly against the sudden burning in his eyes. He crumpled the bra into a small ball, and threw it away.

Fuck waiting for the new earpieces, it was time for his brand of therapy.


***


Bone cracked and blood flowed as the henchman got thrown against the wall, yelling in pain.

Shade smiled coldly, blinking behind the other henchman and knocking his feet out under him with a sweeping kick – and then teleported once more to a slightly higher altitude, his foot connecting to the man’s face with a deeply satisfying crunch.

It was the third criminal gathering he was breaking up that night. Shade almost felt like himself again, not the shaky mess that had left his mansion and almost cried over a fucking bra.

The psychotic smile got wiped off his face at that particularly undignified memory.

Shade gazed around the unconscious bodies scattered to his feet, a mess of tangled limbs and moans of pain. He tapped his earpiece, sending an alert with their location to the nearest police station so they could deal with the paperwork.

He strode forward, dissolving into shadows mid-step, and reappeared on the roof of a building, Paragon City’s skyscrapers towering before him, the damage from the recent alien invasion already half-repaired. Shade crouched low, watching for signs of trouble. Until he got his new and more secure equipment, he’d decided not to follow leads provided by the police radio, only using his transmitter for brief one-way communications to point out where to arrest the criminals he’d caught.

Until further notice, he had to patrol the city the old-fashioned way. Of course, this being Paragon, he never had to patrol for long.

Two blocks ahead of him the night sky briefly was illuminated by a purple flash of energy, followed by the deep rumble of an explosion.

Shade blinked to the location instantly, remaining in his cloaked stealth form to assess the situation.

A woman wearing a white uniform which included a classic miniskirt and a flowing cape stood in the midst of a smoking crater, one raised knee-high boot exerting pressure onto the throat of the massive villain lying beneath her. On her chest was her iconic purple starburst.

Amethyst Star.

Well, it looked like she had the situation well in hand. Yet Shade remained, watching the heroine. He recalled the recent conversation he’d had about her. She looked… tired. Unsurprising, considering she’d been running herself ragged catching big-name villains left and right to restore her good name.

“Living up to your name?” she suddenly called out, and Shade jolted in surprise as she looked directly at him, sending a pulse of power in his direction. The shadows he’d been cloaked in were stripped away, leaving him plainly visible.

“Uncalled for,” he said, frowning, and stepped closer. Amethyst had the power to absorb other meta’s powers, rendering even the most powerful demi-god a mere mortal. She used the power she absorbed to fuel her own purple energy blasts. Villains everywhere shuddered at the thought of her one day learning how to actually copy the powers she absorbed.

She usually had better manners than to neutralize another hero’s power, though.

“Yes, well, watching me from the shadows is uncalled for. Very creepy, very stalker-y. You can say hi like a normal person.” She exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I won’t break your neck for it.”

Shade tilted his head. Dark humor really wasn’t her usual style. More like bright, bubbly and perky. So Shade, who other heroes generally considered to have the social skills and emotional depth of an inanimate object, asked in a low voice, “Are you all right?”

She blew a strand of long red hair from her face. “Next person who asks me that is getting my stiletto to the face.”

“I’m sure they’d enjoy the view,” he said gravely, nodding to her miniskirt. While he understood the appeal of skirts – far more than he cared to admit – he’d never understood how they could be worn into combat.

Amethyst was stunned silent for a moment, and then guffawed. “Shade made a funny! Stop the presses!”

“Ah yes, I can see the headlines. Vigilante Displays Sense of Humor; Shocks Those Who Know Him.”

She laughed, actually laughed, and Shade felt marginally better about himself. Even with all his recent fuckups, at least he’d managed to cheer Amethyst up a little.

Static cracked as his communicator sprang to life, a sultry voice whispering in his ear.

“Hello, Kara.”