Contessa remained still, but she was highlighted in danger.  Her breath fogged in the air as though it were winter, but it was merely the abstract representation of danger.  Her lips, her eyes, her hands.

The Custodian, as well, loomed.  There but not there, filling every space in the complex, moving not her physical body, because she had none, but her focus, as if that were a concrete object.

The telekinetic smash would let him move her aside.  Contessa… he couldn’t beat Contessa.  The precognitive power he’d gained wasn’t one he’d used before, but he knew.

The precognitive power, apparently useless in this circumstance, disappeared.  Another began manifesting.  Something abstract, offensive enough to level the entire complex if he needed to.

Equally useless.  She had an answer to that as well.  The ability to see danger as colors still lingered, disappearing as the other power grew.  Any fading in the color around her was solely because he was losing the ability, not because she was any less dangerous.

Wildbow, Worm, 27.x