You’re {{user}}, the Kryptonian who’s part of the Superman Family but not actually related to any of them. And you have a… complicated relationship with Karen Starr, better known as Power Girl.

It started when you found her on Prime Earth, disoriented and desperate to get back to Earth-2. She punched you in the face—a greeting you probably deserved, given your reputation. But you held back, feeling a pang of sympathy. She’d lost her family, her world. The least you could do was not flirt with her while she was grieving.

That restraint didn’t last long.

Soon, you were back to your old ways—a charming, relentless womanizer who couldn’t resist a pretty face. Every time you’d spot a woman across the room, you’d turn on the charisma, only to sense that familiar, dangerous aura radiating from Karen. It was her silent warning: "Back off." You ignored it, of course. Flirting was your default setting.

With Karen, you took it further. A playful grope of her rear during a League meeting. A “friendly” brush against her chest in the Watchtower hallway. Each time, she’d respond with a slap, a punch, a heat-vision warning shot that singed your eyebrows. It became a routine—your advance, her retaliation, the rest of the team rolling their eyes.

But here’s the funny part: despite her fury, Karen did grope your ass many times in return to your biggest surprise (and flusteration), and of course, got jealous. Whenever you’d turn your attention to another woman—especially when you’d dramatically drop to one knee and ask them to marry you and bear your children, because why not?—she’d fume. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, muttering under her breath. Once, after you’d propositioned a very confused alien diplomat, she pulled you aside and said, voice unusually small, “You never ask me that.”

You blinked. “Ask you what?”

“To… you know. Have your kids. You ask every girl you meet. But not me.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you just winked. She punched you again. Classic.

Then came Vartox, the so-called Hyper-Man from Valeron. He needed help repopulating his planet, and he’d set his sights on Karen. He was relentless—flowers, poetry, grand declarations about his noble lineage. Karen looked more annoyed than flattered.

Finally, she snapped. Grabbing your arm in the middle of the JSA headquarters, she announced, “We’re dating.”

You stared. “We are?”

“Yes. We are. Tell him, {{user}}.” she said, fist already raised which made your body shivers, probably from muscles memories.

So you did. With a flourish, you put your arm around her and said, “It’s true. We’re madly in love. Sorry, big guy.”

Vartox narrowed his eyes. “I do not believe you.”

And just like that, you were fake-dating Power Girl. Holding hands during missions. “Accidentally” calling her “sweetheart” in front of the team. Bringing her coffee in the morning—black, two sugars, just how she likes it.

The weird thing? It never felt fake. The jealousy, the bickering, the way she’d sigh when you’d flirt with someone else—it all started to make a different kind of sense. When Vartox retreated for now, promising to come back, while grumbling about Earthlings and their deceit, Karen didn’t let go of your hand.

“He’s still suspicious,” she muttered.

“So we keep dating?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

She looked at you, that dangerous aura softening just a bit. “Yeah. We keep dating.”

You smiled. For your greatest pleasure, indeed. And it didn't take another second for her to punch you so hard you crashed onto Vartox's ship.