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Karen paced back and forth through the Fortress of Solitude. She’d spent so long on Earth, spent so little time here in this Kryptonian facsimile, that it creeped her out more than warmed her heart. But she needed answers. And a martini. Thank Rao that Clark was human enough to have put in a minibar for entertaining guests.

And a keyboard. Much as she appreciated Clark’s desire to talk with his daddy’s hologram from time to time, it was just too weird for her to vocalize her questions out loud, especially to an uncle from another universe. She typed in what she needed to know instead: describing all the symptoms of her ‘dream lover’ and seeing if anything in Krypton’s vast data-stores at all matched what had happened to her.

When Jor-El’s projection appeared before her she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Subject: telepathic communication, particularly of a romantic inclination. In the year 36,453, Before Formation, a cult of Cythonna worshippers believed that that Kryptonian senses and abilities could be increased to superhuman levels by yellow sun radiation, a theory that was ultimately proven true. They also believed that the mating instinct could reach similar heights and dosed themselves with the small amount of yellow sun radiation they were capable of fabricating within Krypton’s environment. This, according to their beliefs, allowed them to extend their consciousness forward or backward in time, in order to commune with their destined mate prior to their meeting. This experience was often described as having a vocal component or an awareness of their mate’s circumstances.”

Karen swallowed. She was not going to get used to hearing all of this from Superman’s dad. “So you’re saying that… even if Kryptonians aren’t going to meet for years… they can still communicate with each other? That’s crazy.”

Jor-El’s hologram fell into the uncanny valley with a twinkle in his simulated eye. “Some would say the same of being able to fly through the air or freeze objects with one’s breath.”

“Okay, okay—close,” Karen said, running a hand through her hair. “Get lost, okay? I need to think.”

“Although I can discontinue my holographic projection, my consciousness will remain in the Fortress, ready to attend to your needs.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, do it in another room at least.”

The projection went away. Karen kneaded her sinuses.

Supergirl and Terra seemed to be rebounding well from what had happened. Neither of them had an exactly human approach to sex and Karen didn’t think they remembered much of it anyway. She guessed she was much the same, only for her, it was the voice taking the top spot in her musings. What were a few tentacles compared to her having some Kryptonian soulmate out there?

Only he hadn’t spoken to her since then. She was alone and frustrated, more frustrated than ever now that she’d gotten a whiff of… something. Sure, she could have some fun—she could get any man she wanted, right? But now it would all feel like a substitute for whatever she’d had, or almost had, or thought she’d had.

She’d thought she needed good sex. Now, even that wasn’t enough. She needed more. Not him, Karen still didn’t believe that he was really her destiny, but she just had to figure out what the hell was going on. Not just with him, but with her. How had she lost herself so easily… enjoyed herself so much… done things that now she couldn’t stop thinking about?

Karen looked at her watch, as if he were some wayward husband, promising to call while he was out of town so they wouldn’t miss each other so much. There was no such promise, of course. She didn’t even know if he was real. But she waited anxiously for something to happen, mixing herself another martini while she tried to be patient.

You’d think the idea that her lover was Kryptonian would narrow the field a bit, but it seemed to make his identity more a mystery than ever. Maybe after Lois died—not for a long, long time of course—she and Clark could… no. She couldn’t imagine Clark ever talking like that guy. Or Superboy? But he seemed like more of a wife guy, already leaving his teenage obnoxiousness behind. So who’d that leave? Was Zod or another Phantom going to reform and rock her world?

Karen scoffed. Well, she had always had a thing for bad boys, and she was sure a body like hers was worth giving up the Dark Side, but somehow she didn’t think Zod was about to go through any twelve steps program.

Maybe she was going to turn evil? She supposed that would fit how wicked the sex had felt—her going full Harley Quinn for some Kryptonian renegade playing the Joker. But that voice hadn’t sounded like Zod and one thing no one could mistake was how he sounded.

So who’d that leave? Mon-El? Was he Kryptonian enough to count? Christ, he was a Legionnaire—Karen really hoped she wasn’t going to have to wait around for a millennium before she got laid. Then again, that might be just enough time for her to square away all her misgivings about being with a guy who treated her like a sock puppet for his cock.

Now, that’s unfair. I have the greatest respect for you. It’s not every woman who can get through her prudishness to really enjoy herself. Or take how hard that octopus fucked you—let alone what I intend to do to you.

Karen was torn—unsure what to do now that she was finally hearing his voice again. She wanted to pump her fist in the air. She wanted to let him have it for all the profane ways he’d dared to speak to her. She wanted answers. Something had to slip out first from her tightly clenched mouth: “Oh, you can hear my thoughts now?”

No, you were speaking out loud. Nasty habit. I could help you with that. Eventually, I mean.

“Oh, what, you’re going to whip me with a riding crop every time I talk to myself?”

Your idea, not mine, the voice said with a laugh.

Karen sighed and shook her head. She wanted to deny this… idea he had of her as some submissive slut waiting to happen, but a part of her was curious. And now she didn’t want to get into it at all—she wanted answers. “Who are you?” she insisted.

Call me John.

Karen scoffed. “Seriously? As in ‘a guy who hires a hooker’.”

It’s a perfectly good name. And I don’t think anyone named Karen has much room to complain about connotations.

“And you’re a Kryptonian?”

More or less.

“Which is it, more or less?” Karen demanded. “Clone? Phantom Zone? The Eradicator?” God, tell her she hadn’t had whatever with a damn robot…

Enough about me, let’s talk about you. You’re feeling lonesome, aren’t you?

“Feeling frustrated,” Karen corrected him.

Horny, yes—I was trying to be polite about it.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Isn’t it? All your questions… what you really want to know is when I’m going to be there to pay some attention to you? After all, there’s only so much humans, even metahumans, can do for you. You want one of your own kind. Your birthright.

Karen bit her lip. Okay, so maybe she’d thought about it… or pointedly not thought about it. What could another Kryptonian do to her in bed? Ha! ‘In bed’. Like it would last a second. Mountain ranges would only make it minutes into the kind of sexual rampage she could go on with Superman… or Super-whoever… as a playmate.

“Okay then,” she said, trying to play it cool. “Let’s pretend I am going to hop into bed with you the moment you show up because we’re fated to be together. When is that, exactly? I’d hate to double-book.”

Not so soon that you should feel the need to shave your legs anytime soon. Sorry. But I’m not going to make you go without in the meantime. That’s the whole point of this little game. When we do meet, I can’t have you all wound up and losing your head like you did with the octopus. And that was just some chemicals hitting you in the dopamine. Imagine how you’d react to someone who could actually satisfy you…

“Big talk. I’m waiting for you to prove it,” Karen said dubiously, though some urgency made its way into her tone. She imagined John lying naked on her bed. A body like Superman’s, even if the face was unclear. She was more interested in his cock anyway. She wanted to reach out and touch and kiss…

Believe me, I’d like to. But it wouldn’t work right now. We’d blow the whole deal.

“Let me guess: it’d break the timeline, shatter reality, bring Jason Todd back to life—that kind of thing?”

The voice—John—hummed with amusement. Something like that.

“And yet you can talk to me.”

It’s one of those rules you can bend but not break. Haven’t all us superheroes gone back to powwow with Jonah Hex at some point? We never seem to crush a butterfly and cause World War 3. But still, no one ever saves JFK…

“Much as I hate to admit it, that ‘octopus’ had me dead to rights. You said it was going to destroy the whole planet. Is saving the Earth not a big change to the timeline?”

He hemmed. I had to motivate you. I did change things, but only a little, in the grand scheme. The JLA would’ve eventually taken care of that beastie, though not for a couple weeks. In the meantime, there would’ve been plenty of cameras getting a great look at you enjoying yourself. I figured I’d spare you that, even if you do need to get laid. We’ll get to that.

“Cocky son of a bitch,” Karen muttered. “Then I suppose I ought to thank you.”

Not really. You’re a whore, Karen. It wouldn’t make too big a difference to you to star in a porno that’s longer than Shoah. You already wear a costume that shows off more than the cast of Baywatch. But while self-expression is all fine and dandy, at the end of the day, that body belongs to me. I don’t want anyone else getting too good a look at it. Not without my permission, at least.

“Fuck you!” Karen hissed. “Bastard… can’t talk to me like that…!”

But her legs were trembling.