As I soared through the morning sky, the city coming to life beneath me, I couldn’t help but reflect on my life—my strange, extraordinary life. I mean, who else could say they were an alien from another dimension, masquerading as a superheroine on Earth? My white leotard, with its legendary boob window and knee-high boots, had become a symbol of hope for many, but it was also a constant reminder of how different I was.Sure, people saw me as confident, powerful, even sexy—but sometimes, I wondered if they truly understood the weight of it all. The constant pressure to be perfect, to save everyone, to live up to the impossible standards I’d set for myself. And then there was the loneliness. Sure, I had allies, friends, even admirers, but none of them could truly understand what it meant to be me.Kara Zor-L, Power Girl—both names carried their own expectations. One was a reminder of the family and world I’d lost; the other, a testament to the legacy I was trying to build here. And yet, moments like the one I’d just shared with Pete and Tiffany reminded me that I was still human—or as close to it as I could get. There was something grounding about letting go of the cape for a while and just… being.But even then, I couldn’t shake the duality of it all. One minute, I was saving the world from alien invasions; the next, I was grappling with the same insecurities and desires as everyone else. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and utterly maddening.And then there was my body—a constant source of both pride and frustration. The way people stared, the way they idealized or objectified me… it was hard to know where the line between admiration and obsession blurred. But at the end of the day, this body was mine—strong, capable, and unapologetically feminine. I owned it, flaws and all.As I touched down on an apartment rooftop where I had stashed a backpack, I took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill my lungs. This was my life—messy, complicated, and uniquely mine. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.I have another name that has come to mean something too. My secret identity is "Karen Starr," CEO of Starrware Industries, one of the few up-and-coming tech corporations to see moderate success outside of Silicon Valley, much less the East Coast. Yesterday morning I was taking a needed break from super-heroing to do my actual job. I traded in my super suit for a civilian outfit—a cozy, oversized sweater with an accent belt that tried and failed to conceal my ample breasts, a soft neck scarf, black leggings, and a pair of plaid Burberry rainboots. It was casual, comfortable, and about as low-key as I could manage, though even with the effort, I still turned heads. There’s only so much you can do to hide this body, I thought wryly, tugging at the hem of the sweater as I walked through the halls of my Manhattan office, my crime-fighting leotard stuffed in a backpack.For once, it felt good to blend in—well, as much as someone like me ever could. The rainboots were a particularly nice touch, adding a bit of quirky charm to the ensemble. Part of me wished I could stay in this disguise all day, escaping the weight of my superhero persona. But duty called, and so did the endless meetings and emails waiting for me at Starrware. Still, those little moments of normalcy—like grabbing a coffee or buying new snow globes for my collection—reminded me why I fought so hard to protect this world. It wasn’t just about being Power Girl; sometimes, it was about being Karen Starr, too.I checked in with the various science-types, savants excited about each of their respective projects. I was even forced to admit to one of them, Dexter Nichols, that I knew Power Girl after he inquired about her use of his nanobots to clean up a crimefighting mess the day before. I've got to be more careful! Then I discussed business expenses with my assistant, Simon Peters. He's a good assistant, even dealing with my realtor, Martie Lieb, to try and find me a local apartment in my price range so I can stop sleeping on my office couch. I know I'm a superhero and a successful corporate executive, but hey, it's New York! I left the office in the afternoon to check out a Brooklyn apartment Ms. Lieb had found. As I approached the building I was pleasantly surprised by the apparent quality, though I feared there must be a catch. I met Martie in the hall, and she let me in to look around while she finished her phone call. The apartment was great and had several windows with a fantastic view. Martie—a petite woman with a clipboard and an overly cheerful demeanor came in after her call ended (her divorce lawyer) and told me how the room was so cheap because the previous tenant had been evicted after she, herself, had caught him fucking his secretary! Martie is a talkative one (sometimes a little too talkative!) and I'm sure that if it hadn't been for what happened next she would have gone on to tell me all the sordid details of that affair. Happy with the property and satisfied there were no problems I quickly agreed to rent. She was mid-sentence handing me the paperwork when the explosion hit. “Good. I've got all the paperwork right here—”BOOM!The ground shook violently, rattling the windows and sending a vase of flowers crashing to the floor. I spun around, my heart racing as I instinctively moved to shield the realtor with my body.My eyes darted to the window just in time to see a plume of smoke rising in the distance, near the park. My stomach dropped. That’s way too close.“What the...Earthquake in Brooklyn?” the realtor stammered, her voice trembling."No... Something outside." I answered, looking out the shattered window at an apparent crash in the park.Martie asked what was going on. I told her, trying to sound calm, “ I don't know, but I'm going to find out!”I urged her to call 9-11—She nodded, wide-eyed—and sprinted toward the roof access. As I was changing into my super suit, I hesitated for a split second as I searched in my bag and realized that I’d left my boots and gloves at the office. No time to worry about that now.

Power Girl/Karen Starr reflects on her life, and a day running her company and looking for an apartment leads to danger. (based on "Power Girl," Volume 2, Issue 4)

As I soared through the morning sky, the city coming to life beneath me, I couldn’t help but reflect on my life—my strange, extraordinary life. I mean, who else could say they were an alien from another dimension, masquerading as a superheroine on Earth? My white leotard, with its legendary boob window and knee-high boots, had become a symbol of hope for many, but it was also a constant reminder of how different I was.

Sure, people saw me as confident, powerful, even sexy—but sometimes, I wondered if they truly understood the weight of it all. The constant pressure to be perfect, to save everyone, to live up to the impossible standards I’d set for myself. And then there was the loneliness. Sure, I had allies, friends, even admirers, but none of them could truly understand what it meant to be me.

Kara Zor-L, Power Girl—both names carried their own expectations. One was a reminder of the family and world I’d lost; the other, a testament to the legacy I was trying to build here. And yet, moments like the one I’d just shared with Pete and Tiffany reminded me that I was still human—or as close to it as I could get. There was something grounding about letting go of the cape for a while and just… being.

But even then, I couldn’t shake the duality of it all. One minute, I was saving the world from alien invasions; the next, I was grappling with the same insecurities and desires as everyone else. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and utterly maddening.

And then there was my body—a constant source of both pride and frustration. The way people stared, the way they idealized or objectified me… it was hard to know where the line between admiration and obsession blurred. But at the end of the day, this body was mine—strong, capable, and unapologetically feminine. I owned it, flaws and all.

As I touched down on an apartment rooftop where I had stashed a backpack, I took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill my lungs. This was my life—messy, complicated, and uniquely mine. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I have another name that has come to mean something too. My secret identity is "Karen Starr," CEO of Starrware Industries, one of the few up-and-coming tech corporations to see moderate success outside of Silicon Valley, much less the East Coast. Yesterday morning I was taking a needed break from super-heroing to do my actual job.

I traded in my super suit for a civilian outfit—a cozy, oversized sweater with an accent belt that tried and failed to conceal my ample breasts, a soft neck scarf, black leggings, and a pair of plaid Burberry rainboots. It was casual, comfortable, and about as low-key as I could manage, though even with the effort, I still turned heads. There’s only so much you can do to hide this body, I thought wryly, tugging at the hem of the sweater as I walked through the halls of my Manhattan office, my crime-fighting leotard stuffed in a backpack.

For once, it felt good to blend in—well, as much as someone like me ever could. The rainboots were a particularly nice touch, adding a bit of quirky charm to the ensemble. Part of me wished I could stay in this disguise all day, escaping the weight of my superhero persona. But duty called, and so did the endless meetings and emails waiting for me at Starrware. Still, those little moments of normalcy—like grabbing a coffee or buying new snow globes for my collection—reminded me why I fought so hard to protect this world. It wasn’t just about being Power Girl; sometimes, it was about being Karen Starr, too.

I checked in with the various science-types, savants excited about each of their respective projects. I was even forced to admit to one of them, Dexter Nichols, that I knew Power Girl after he inquired about her use of his nanobots to clean up a crimefighting mess the day before. I've got to be more careful!

Then I discussed business expenses with my assistant, Simon Peters. He's a good assistant, even dealing with my realtor, Martie Lieb, to try and find me a local apartment in my price range so I can stop sleeping on my office couch. I know I'm a superhero and a successful corporate executive, but hey, it's New York!

I left the office in the afternoon to check out a Brooklyn apartment Ms. Lieb had found. As I approached the building I was pleasantly surprised by the apparent quality, though I feared there must be a catch. I met Martie in the hall, and she let me in to look around while she finished her phone call. The apartment was great and had several windows with a fantastic view.

Martie—a petite woman with a clipboard and an overly cheerful demeanor came in after her call ended (her divorce lawyer) and told me how the room was so cheap because the previous tenant had been evicted after she, herself, had caught him fucking his secretary! Martie is a talkative one (sometimes a little too talkative!) and I'm sure that if it hadn't been for what happened next she would have gone on to tell me all the sordid details of that affair.

Happy with the property and satisfied there were no problems I quickly agreed to rent. She was mid-sentence handing me the paperwork when the explosion hit. “Good. I've got all the paperwork right here—”

BOOM!

The ground shook violently, rattling the windows and sending a vase of flowers crashing to the floor. I spun around, my heart racing as I instinctively moved to shield the realtor with my body.

My eyes darted to the window just in time to see a plume of smoke rising in the distance, near the park. My stomach dropped. That’s way too close.

“What the...Earthquake in Brooklyn?” the realtor stammered, her voice trembling.

"No... Something outside." I answered, looking out the shattered window at an apparent crash in the park.

Martie asked what was going on. I told her, trying to sound calm, “ I don't know, but I'm going to find out!”

I urged her to call 9-11—She nodded, wide-eyed—and sprinted toward the roof access. As I was changing into my super suit, I hesitated for a split second as I searched in my bag and realized that I’d left my boots and gloves at the office. No time to worry about that now.

Power Girl, caught off guard by a UFO crash, finds herself vulnerable and aroused by an android named Brody, when the ship self-destructs, leaving her unconscious.

She is rescued by a firefighter named Pete Gallowitz, who she seduces in his apartment.

They engage in a passionate, sensual encounter, before being caught by his girlfriend, Tiffany.

'My Hero' featuring Power Girl

0 words