PGBT Part 1 (Artwork by Snowzapped) (Patreon)

Power Girl stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back. The abyss looked a lot like a thirteen-year-old boy from Japan. Hiro Okamura was the latest Toyman, an otaku with a genius-level IQ. He’d already built a Composite Batman-Superman mecha that had saved the Earth from a Kryptonite asteroid, nanobots that had scoured the Earth of green-K radiation, and almost half the gadgets your average superhero nowadays relied on. All very impressive for a thirteen-year-old. The downside: he was thirteen years old. A thirteen-year-old boy. A straight thirteen-year-old boy. A favor he’d done for Superman—making it safe for Kryptonians to walk the Earth—had been done in exchange for Power Girl going on a date with him. And Karen had just been too softhearted to pawn him off on a Power Girl robot. She would’ve never been able to forgive herself for doing that to a robot. Now, dressed in a white keyhole dress that recalled her superheroic outfit too much for some onlooker to be reminded of her oft-neglected civilian ID, she sat in La Tour d'Argent, a Parisian restaurant that was almost as snobby about its décor as it was about its cuisine. Across the painfully intimate table, Hiro sat in a pint-sized tuxedo. Being a genius, Hiro was at least smart enough to know to be on his best behavior around a woman who could punt him into the stratosphere. He just kinda stared at her. Karen was beginning to worry he was having a stroke. “The sad part is that would make this one of the better dates I’ve had lately,” Karen muttered under her breath, tapping her fingers as she waited for their food. Hiro had proved about as out of place in a chic French restaurant as she was, ordering through a translator action figure. The thing definitely needed some more beta testing, judging by the snippets of Italian Karen had caught from it. But the waitress had hustled off to bring them—something, and Karen guessed that she was already halfway through fulfilling her obligation. Clark would probably tell her that this was building character. What did he know? “You know, you can try to seduce me,” she continued, loud enough to be audible. Hiro jerked up like she’d woken him from a nap. “Wha-huh?” “Well, that’s the fantasy, right? I go out with you out of a sense of obligation, you sweep me off my feet with your wit and charm, then we start making babies?” Hiro bit his lip. “Something like—I don’t like kids.” “You could at least give me some pick-up lines to groan over. I don’t know if you can out-cheese Guy Gardner, but it’s worth a shot.” Hiro seemed to be staring at her even harder. “You look really pretty.” Karen sighed. Here she thought she’d be beating him off with a stick, but even that would’ve been better than a night of hover-hand. “Thanks, kid. Hey, you wanna go throw up or something? That might help…?” Hiro bit his other lip. Then he said something in Japanese that at least didn’t sound very rude. “Come again?” Embarrassedly, Hiro segued into English. “If you… if you wouldn’t mind… I’ve always wanted to… just once… we could do it really quick!” Power Girl was staring at Hiro as hard as she could without actual lasers shooting out of her eyes when she heard it. Then she heard a volcano go off in Norway. Thank Rao. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, and flew off so fast she left her dress in Nîmes. “—if you wanna dance?” Hiro finished. Then he noticed the empty chair vibrating. *** Five years later… It was ridiculous. Karen could fly. She could fly faster than the speed of a sound. And yet—having a private jet was fucking amazing. She could sit back, drink wine, watch a movie on her laptop… it was all so cultured. There was something to be said for literally flying, just like there was something to be said for running a marathon. But even Usain Bolt wouldn’t say no to a limo. Or so she'd told Nicholas Cho—Nicco—the man who she pretty much counted as her sidekick these days. A research scientist at her company, Starrware, he’d eventually figured out her secret identity; that had been before she’d gone to the trouble of wearing a red wig and actually buttoning her shirts. After some unevenness, he’d come to be as much a part of Karen’s little posse as Terra. Terra, though, was more fun. Being from the center of the Earth, she didn’t know anything about corporate America. Nicco, on the other hand… “Please close this deal. Please close this deal. Please, please, please close this deal.” “Well, I was thinking of just flying to Paraguay to chill on the beach—“ “Paraguay doesn’t have beaches. It’s landlocked.” “Okay, scup that plan. Guess I’ll have to close the deal.” Karen worked her eyeglasses around a little. She’d never get too used to them. “What’s the deal again?” “Karen…” “Sorry, did you spend the last four days saving Russia from an extradimensional invasion? Makes it a little hard to remember my itinerary.” “I’ve told you four times today.” “I was brooding. I brood. You shouldn’t bug me while I’m broody.” “One more time. Then I go see if LexCorp is hiring.” Karen delicately set her hands in her lap like an attentive schoolgirl. Nicco poured himself a glass of 2012 Arbe Garbe Russian River Valley White—Karen loved flying in a private jet—and spoke. “Hiro Okamura is one of the most well-respected robotics experts in the world, but he refuses to sell any of his designs on the open market. But if we could sign him to a contract with Starrware, we’d have robots on hand to deal with any malfunctioning experiments, instead of Power Girl ‘conveniently’ being in the neighborhood every few days.” Karen nodded to herself. “Hiro Okamura… where have I heard that name before?” “From me telling you about him four times today?” “No, no, it was something important.” Nicco drank his wine in one gulp. *** In two hours they’d gone from the plane to the airport to the chauffeur’s to the foot of Mount Fuji, where Hiro Okamura lived in a self-made amusement park. It was no Disneyland, but Karen wouldn’t have minded having a fastpass there. She sent Nicco on his way—he had some relatives to visit in the area, and besides, when Hiro had reached out to her, he’d requested a private meeting. So Karen, greeted and escorted by a security droid in a rather cuddly Nutcracker outfit, went inside, past all the rides and abandoned projects, to the main facility at the center of Hiro’s park. He was waiting for her at the entrance, still futzing with an iPad as she walked up. He pawned it off to a helper bot when she was six feet away. “Ah! Hello there, Miss Starr. Welcome to Toyland.” Babes in Toyland, Karen thought. He could be said to fit the billing: not the boy she’d expected when told Hiro Okamura was eighteen, but a young man, and distinctly masculine under his tight-fitting jeans and frayed SuperBat T-shirt. His hair was dark and spiky, his face lean and clear. Still, his slenderness indicated his youth; he wasn’t as muscular as the men she usually went for, and there was a keen awkwardness to how he averted his gaze, trying clumsily not to stare too hard at the pantsuit she wore to conceal her costume. She extended her hand. “Mr. Okamura, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Mostly the same things, four times over, from Nicco. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to get right down to brass tacks. I’m a very busy woman and I’d hate to be called away.” Even if it's to punch the Ultra-Humanite right in his fat face. “Alright,” Hiro said, and clapped his hands. A section of the pavement slid away, bringing up a set of table and chairs complete with some serving bots delicately balanced on one wheel apiece. They quickly set the table before pulling back the chairs. For some reason, it all felt highly familiar to Karen. She wondered if she’d been on a date with the guy back on Earth-2… The two of them sat underneath a cherry tree, at a table with an umbrella erected over it. The sky was crisp and clean, the sun shining but not blazing. The very picture of sophistication. So naturally, the robots brought them an almost insultingly simple meal of burgers, fries, and strawberry soda. Insulting but for the fact that Karen’s stomach rumbled at the smell like a star going nova. She tried a fry. “Is this from In-N-Out Burger?” “Actually, it’s from the robokitchen, but I hacked their corporate offices and borrowed the recipe. The robokitchen can recreate any food, so long as it knows the ingredients and recipe.” Karen resolved to try to get one for Black Canary. “Doesn’t explain how you know I’d like this and not, say, a Caesar salad.” “Oh, I asked Mr. Cho. I hope that wasn’t out of line,” Hiro added, sounding genuinely nervous over her response. “No, no, it’s thoughtful. So, Hiro… alright if I call you Hiro, or do you prefer Toyman?” “Actually, ever since I heard Winslow Schott was some kind of pedobear, I’ve been going by Toymaster.” “Toyboy, got it. Why is it you reached out to Starrware? I’m sure there are bigger companies that could offer you a bigger payout.” Question asked, Karen didn’t wait any longer to decimate her burger with one bite. Hiro coughed. “Uh, I’m not some corporate sellout? I have plenty of money, so—I’d kinda like to make the world a better place? And you seem to be working very hard at that, Power Girl. Karen.” Karen spluttered through a full mouth, losing a few sesame seeds in the process. “Did you just call me Power Girl?” “No, no, no—it’s not like you’re Power Girl. You’re just kinda…” Hiro grabbed his soft drink and sucked on the straw. Karen snatched it away from him. “I’m not Power Girl.” “I didn’t say you were!” “You literally just did.” “Alright!” Hiro shot up, running his hands through his hair like he could actually tame it. “You’re Power Girl! You are Power Girl! You’re totally Power Girl!” Karen crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’m really not.” “You look exactly like Power Girl. Just with red hair and glasses.” “Well… if Power Girl wore glasses, how could she see when she took them off?” Karen stared him down. “Did you set up a deal with Starrware just so you could get me to wear a Power Girl outfit?” “One, you’re probably already wearing a Power Girl costume—I sure don’t have them. Two, I really—“ Hiro took a deep breath and began to pace. “I really do like Starrware and what you’re doing with the environment and stuff. And if you are Power Girl—which you are—I’d love to help you with whatever. But mostly I’d like to apologize.” Adjusting her glasses, Karen stood to keep up with him. “Apologize? For what?” “It was a while back, but—the last time we met, I was a real jerk. I had the opportunity to do something really cool for you guys—you know, with the capes—” “I don’t wear a cape,” Karen insisted. Hiro shuffled his shoes. “Just let me finish? Then I’ll understand if you have to keep… pretending you’re Karen Starr.” Karen mouthed that she wasn’t Power Girl, mainly to herself. But, crossing her arms and tapping her foot, she let him continue. “Anyway, I could’ve just done it to be a good guy, but instead I made you bribe me with a date? I took you to Paris, acted like a real bigshot… it doesn’t make it okay, but I was a pretty lonely kid back then and I tried to act cool instead of, like, a person? Yeah, I ended up in a pretty unhealthy place. I built some kinda inappropriate robots, I hung out at some MRA websites that probably shouldn’t exist, and then I actually get a date with you and… I blow it.” A server bot came up to him, offering a tissue. He shoved it away on its little bicycle wheel. “Get lost! I’m not gonna cry!” “Your hormone levels indicate—“ “Second Law of Robotics! Second Law! Go!” The robot zipped off. Hiro scowled after it before looking at Karen again. Karen snapped her fingers. “Now I remember! You were that kid who wanted to fuck me in the bathroom! I mean, fuck Power Girl in the bathroom—shit.” “I didn’t want to eff you!” Hiro then realized what she’d said. “A-ha!” “Didn’t want to eff me,” Karen repeated dismally. “Yeah. Right… is what Power Girl would say.” “I wanted to dance.” “Dance?” “Dance, yes—with the feet and the music and… the cha-cha? The waltz? Am I using the right word? I’m sure it’s the right word…” “That’s the right word.” Hiro nodded to himself. “So anyway, that really helped me realize that I was not being the guy, the guy I could be, so I quit jerking off—almost entirely—I started hanging out with the Titans, made myself available to the Justice League, even designed some custom equipment for Batman. And I’m in a much better place now. I’ve even had a couple girlfriends. That Rose Wilson—wow.” Karen blinked. Ravager? She really would make a pass at anyone. “So… you don’t want to blackmail me into taking you to a comic book store?” “No, course not—I buy my comics online.” “And you don’t want to transplant your brain into my body.” Hiro’s brow furrowed. “That’s too dirty even for me.” “You just want to apologize for a bad date and sell robots to my company.” “Yeah. Yes. Pinky swear.” Karen sat down, taking off her wig and glasses. “Okay, I’m just going to lose these then—the wig itches and these glasses bounce around like nothing else.” Almost nothing else. In a whirlwind of superspeed, Karen changed into her costume, leaving all traces of her other identity neatly folded on the table. Hiro pumped his fist. “Knew it!” Karen rose to her full height, planting her hands on her hips. “How’d you figure it out, anyway?” “You have the same face. Karen Starr’s on TV, Power Girl’s on TV—“ “So you have some kind of facial recognition system? Because I thought Oracle had reprogrammed all of those.” “No, I just saw your face two times and I thought that Karen Starr really looks like Power Girl.” “That’s it?” “Yeah. Why?” “I thought it would be a little more involved.” “I did Google you. Karen Starr didn’t really exist before 2007, and there was this post on TMZ about you going to a comic book shop with some kid—I guess he blackmailed you into it? And the most obvious blackmail material would be your secret identity and he lived across from the apartment building where Karen Starr lived, so…” Hiro shrugged. “But you really do look a lot alike. Maybe if you had a few moles, or were cross-dressing, or did some sort of Cloud Atlas thing…” “You want me to wear blackface? Hell, I’d be in more trouble if I got caught doing that than if my secret identity got out.” Karen pulled her cape from the secret compartment in her purse and threw it on. “Crap, Hiro—I really misjudged you. You’ve actually looked at my face.” His vision bungee-jumped to his shoes. “It’s a, it’s a really nice face. Your face.” “And I’m guessing you’re currently single.” “Rose and I are on break. She thinks she might be a lesbian.” Karen nodded. “Tell you what. How about we finish our date?” Hiro’s head shot up like it had taken an uppercut. “You want to finish some dates? I have some in the fridge…” “Our date. I actually feel kinda honor-bound to go through with it. It’s a Kryptonian thing… look, why don’t you just show me around your pad? I’m sure you’re dying to show off some inventions—all you techies are. It’ll be like… business. But you can hold my hand.” *** Hiro actually did go for holding her hand. That was sorta sweet, really. His workshop was the size of a warehouse and looked like his id had exploded into physical reality. It was, at least, the id of a quite creative and not very pervy type. There were robots, cars, boats, spaceships, motorcycles, and models, in various stages of completion, with a kind of inscrutable order to their arrangement that kept one from tripping over tools every second. Every workspace was set apart, though at times similar projects overlapped. The sight of it all had an unusually calming effect on Karen. She thought there was a kind of Zen to the undisciplined discipline the work was ordered upon, then thought that that was racist and chided herself. For hours, Hiro showed her around, telling her about his inventions with a degree of pride, but not the kind of egotism she found off-putting. And though he flirted with her, it wasn’t overbearing, but always in a funny, sparing sort of way. He was sweet on her, as the old expression went, and the longer she spent with him, the more it became clear that his hero worship and crushing were just that. They weren’t cover for any of the usual leering, or lusting, or even more aggressive ‘seductions’ that Karen had grown used to. He legitimately thought the world of her, without that being at all dependent on her humoring him, favoring him, dating him, blowing him, or doing anything but being herself. And he didn’t once look at her tits. Was it any wonder she indulged the kid a little? Leaning over to get a ‘good look’ at this gizmo or that, and so making a spectacle of the view down her cleavage. Or just brushing against him the slightest bit as she moved around—so easy to fake when she could fly. In fact, she could even use her power of flight solely on her breasts, making them especially heave with her breathing. No one could prove she did it… but she did it. “And these,” Hiro said, trying not to ogle as he picked up a pair of coke-bottle glasses with a spiral pattern on the lenses, “are actual X-ray glasses. I think doctors could use them, battlefield medics could diagnose an injury at a glance…” “Teenage boys could see Starfire naked,” Karen said leadingly. Hiro set the glasses aside, blushing. “I always thought all you had to do for that is wait.” Karen picked the spectacles back up as he moved on. She tried them on. Hiro’s ass was small. Young and hairless. She wouldn’t mind grabbing something like that as a man thrust into her. Karen whipped the glasses off, returning them to the worktable where she’d found them. She was not indulging the kid that much. If only he’d turned around, though… “And here is the new Batmobile,” Hiro continued, ushering her to a chassis cradled by various robotic arms. It was half-assembled with armor plates, the remaining framework letting Karen see the various armaments and engine bits packed inside. “It looks like a tank,” she said. “Are you the one who keeps giving him tanks? I thought the Batmobile was supposed to be a car.” “What do you want, a convertible with little bat-wings?” Hiro asked. “Batman likes the tank. I could build you a tank.” “A tank would actually suit me. Isn’t Batman supposed to be a ninja or something? If you put a ninja inside a monster truck, what’s the point?” “Hey now, I’ll accept tank, but monster truck is pushing it.” “Oh, is it?” Karen asked, getting up close and personal, going toe-to-toe with him. Which pretty much shoved her tits in his face, her being tall and him still being on the short side. “Uh, yeah. It is. You should, I mean, I’d prefer…” Karen backed up. “Hiro, we’ve got to work on your social skills. I’m not the tallest superheroine out there. You think Big Barda’s gonna worry about you being at motorboat height for every conversation?” “Muh-muh-motorboat?” Karen sighed. “We’ll get to that later. C’mon, show me another toy. Girls don’t always go for big, hulking machines, you know. We like skill.” “Oh, ah, skill—“ Hiro darted over to what looked like a miniature operating table, where a six-inch Flash doll was laid out. “This is—“ “Tell me that’s not a Wally West voodoo doll.” “No, no, it’s a scale model replication experiment of the Speed Force.” Karen blinked at him. “So, an action figure?” Hiro picked it up. “Do action figures cost six point eight million dollars?” “Well, if you want the Dream House and pink convertible too…” Hiro pulled a USB cord from the figure—made it look like the doll had a pull-string—and plugged it into a nearby laptop. The laptop wallpaper was of Karen hitting Gorilla Grodd. That was cute. The angle didn’t even show off her boobs. “With a unique blend of chemicals and ionically-charged electromagnets, I can replicate the initial connection the Flash made to the Speed Force. And…” Hiro hit a button. “Vibrate this action figure so fast it can go through walls.” “So it is an action figure.” Hiro shrugged. “Well, yeah. But not a doll, okay? I have some limits.” The action figure shook itself into a blur which actually sunk a half-inch into the table where it was standing, before it slowed. Hiro picked it back up and set it down before it could get stuck in the table. “Still a work in progress.” “If you did get it to work, how would you get it back? Wouldn’t it just fall to the center of the Earth?” Hiro raised a finger, but said nothing for a moment. “That’s also a work in progress.” Karen crossed her arms. “Look, Hiro, this is all great, and I hate to spoil it, but there’s something I just have to know. Or, really, see.” Hiro jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You want a look at the Superman robots? I build all of Superman’s robots. He doesn’t do it. Guy wouldn’t know a T-800 from a T-1000.” “No, Hiro. I want to see my robot.”