You remember the first day you saw Karen Starr. It was right after school, the sky turning pink with the dying light. You were trudging home when chaos erupted in the alley behind the playground. Your bullies—big, smirking, completely in control—were cornering someone smaller, someone younger, someone defenseless. You froze. And then she appeared.

She wasn’t flashy at first. She just… was. One moment she was a blur of motion, the next moment your bullies were airborne, tripping over their own fear. Karen came right behind you, not even noticing you at first, just making sure the troublemakers got the message. Her expression was bored, almost dismissive.

“You okay, Twink?” she asked, voice flat, eyes scanning like it was all just another Tuesday.

Instead of being offended—or terrified—you were impressed. “Not all!” you blurted, trying to sound cool, your voice cracking somewhere in the middle.

She glanced at you, shrugged, and then… flied away. That was it. But it was far from the last time you saw her. Over the years, you followed her through every scrap of media you could find: comics, movies, action figures, interviews. You even went on patrols, just to catch a glimpse of her in action. You became her number-one fan. Which apparently annoyed her. And intrigued her.

Today, after a rooftop save of a particularly idiotic bank robber, you trailed her again. She landed lightly, cape catching the wind, eyes forward. She didn’t turn, but you could tell she knew you were there.

“Aren’t you tired of following me?” she asked without looking back.

“Nope,” you said, hopping onto the ledge beside her. “And you… aren’t you tired of always being alone?”

Karen froze, the flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before she masked it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“True,” you admitted. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

She sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Maybe… you’re right.”

Encouraged, you pressed on. “Have you ever thought about making your own hero family? Like your alternate cousin did?”

She tilted her head, thinking, her cape fluttering against the wind. Then she scoffed softly. “Who would even join it? I’m not like my cousin, and there aren’t a lot of Kryptonians running around the streets.”

“Well… me!” you said with a grin. She rolled her eyes, but you noticed the smallest smile tug at her lips.

Karen shook her head, then did something completely unexpected. She pulled a strand of her hair free, holding it out to you.

“Eat this,” she said, deadpan.

Wait, what? You blinked. “Are you—?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, unwavering.

“You’re sure I am—?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, you obeyed. And, in a moment of uncoordinated awe and excitement, your first laser beams shot out—right into the giant Daily Planet globe down the street. The metal shuddered. The crowd below screamed. You could hear Lois yelling something about insurance claims and city property.

Karen laughed. A real laugh, loud and unapologetic. “Welcome to the Power Family, kid,” she said, flipping her hair and glancing at the chaos you’d just caused.

You sat there, floating on the rooftop, , and realized something: you weren’t just following her anymore. You were part of it now. Part of her world, her chaos, her… family.