Kara's room looked like a messy clothing store mixed with a circus. Bright fabrics, leather straps, shiny masks, and strange accessories covered the bed in a big pile. Many outfits had bells, tassels, or big collars. Some items seemed more suited for a stage in Las Vegas than for a superhero's closet.
Harley stood proudly beside the bed with her hands on her hips, grinning like a designer presenting a luxury fashion line.
"Alright, rookie," she said with theatrical flair. "Step one of hero life. You gotta look fabulous while saving people."
Kara stared at the mountain of costumes with deep suspicion.
"Clark just wears his blue suit, cape and boots," she muttered.
Harley waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, but he's been wearing the same outfit for decades. Fashion evolution exists for a reason."
Kara folded her arms and looked down at a red and blue bodysuit with a familiar symbol stitched on the chest. Harley stitched that one last night.
"I'm not wearing that," Kara said firmly.
Harley tilted her head.
"Why not?"
"I don't want the same symbol," Kara replied while tossing it aside. "I want my own identity."
Harley squinted thoughtfully for a moment.
"Fair point," she admitted. "Brand identity matters in the hero business."
Kara reached into the pile again and lifted a black latex outfit with two very obvious holes cut into the chest area. She looked at Harley and raised one eyebrow slowly. "There are nipple holes! What the hell do you two do in the bedroom?" She asked.
Harley blinked once, then burst out laughing.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and tried to get her breathing under control. "Okay, okay. That one's from my experimental phase. Thought it might be fun for... private performances. You know, spice things up when John's been brooding for three days straight about world-ending threats or whatever."
Kara's face went through several interesting shades of red before settling on something close to horrified fascination. "Private performances."
"Exactly." Harley took the dress from Kara and held it against her own body, turning sideways in an exaggerated model's pose. The chest cutouts lined up perfectly with dramatic theatrical flair. "See? Strategic ventilation. Keeps everything perky while still looking dangerous. Very on-brand for me."
Kara pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked."
Harley leaned closer and lowered her voice like she was sharing an important secret.
"Throw a bra underneath and boom. Sexy dommy mommy superhero energy."
Kara snorted.
"You're insane."
"Visionary," Harley corrected proudly. She crossed her arms and looked around the room. "Besides, nobody is here watching. Why not try it on for fun?"
"In your dreams," Kara said as she walked toward the door.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Harley asked.
"To shop and maybe ask John for suggestions," Kara said before walking out.
Harley smirked and mumbled, "Or more like shop with John. You think no one noticed how you've been looking at Captain Thunderpants for the past few weeks? Well, the more the merrier."
...
[John's private training hall]
The training hall inside the palace complex was wide, its stone floor etched with faint runic lines that absorbed stray energy. Rows of reinforced practice dummies stood along the far wall. Some looked new while others carried burn marks, dents, and cracked armor from previous experiments.
John stood alone near the center of the room.
In his right hand, he held a wand carved from pale ivory wood taken from an ancient tree in Themyscira. Thin lines of gold ran along its length like veins. The grip felt perfectly balanced in his fingers. The core contained was made from a feather of Pegasus, gifted by Hippolyta.
He rolled his shoulder once and looked down at the wand again.
"Alright," he murmured quietly to himself.
Weeks earlier, he had tried to understand wand magic through pure theory. His Wisdom of Solomon had helped him study ancient magical structures and spell frameworks. Still, wand casting carried a rhythm and intention that felt different from the lightning magic he normally wielded.
It required direction, precision and a bit of theatrical flair.
He raised the wand toward the row of armored dummies standing thirty feet away.
"Let's start with something small."
His wrist moved in a short flick.
"Stupefy."
A sharp flash of red light shot from the tip of the wand. The beam streaked across the room and slammed into the chest of the nearest dummy. The impact lifted the heavy target clean off the ground and hurled it backward. The dummy smashed against the stone wall with a loud crack before dropping to the floor in a twisted heap.
John blinked once.
"…Well."
He lowered the wand slightly while studying the result.
"Not bad."
The door behind him opened with a soft creak.
Kara stepped inside. Her eyes moved from the broken dummy to the wand in his hand.
"Did you just blast that thing across the room with a stick?" She asked.
John looked back at her and lifted the wand. "Technically, it's a wand."
Kara walked closer, looking genuinely curious now. "Didn't you say something about learning a cloning technique?"
He shrugged.
"Yeah, already learned that and it kinda got boring. So, now," He raised his wand and examined it closely. "I've got a new hobby. Wand Magic."
She folded her arms and studied the shattered dummy again.
John pointed the wand toward another target.
"Round two."
He flicked his wrist again.
"Stupefy."
Another red bolt shot across the room. This time, the beam struck the dummy square in the helmet. The force spun it sideways and knocked it flat without sending it through the wall.
John nodded slowly with approval. "Oh, yeah. Better." He looked toward Kara. "So, what brings you here?"
"I was just thinking if you'd like to go shopping with me, but it looks like you are busy. So, I'll just go," Kara said as she turned around.
John lowered the wand to his side and gave her a small, easy smile that reached his eyes.
"We can go shopping," he said without hesitation. "I'm not too busy for that."
Kara paused and turned back fully, surprise flickering across her face before she tried to mask it with a casual shrug. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You were in the middle of... whatever this is. Blasting dummies with magic. I don't want to pull you away from your new hobby."
He chuckled under his breath and slipped the wand into a narrow leather holster strapped to his belt.
"Trust me, I've got plenty more dummies to humiliate later," he replied. "Besides, shopping sounds like a better use of the afternoon than turning more practice targets into scrap metal. What are we looking for?"
Kara hesitated for only a second longer, then relaxed her shoulders and stepped farther into the room. She glanced once more at the fallen dummies before meeting his gaze again.
"Costumes," she said. "My own costumes. Harley tried to help, but her version of helpful involves way too many bells, cutouts, and questionable ventilation. I need something that actually feels like me. Not a hand-me-down from Clark and definitely not whatever fever dream she was having last night."
John raised both eyebrows, amusement clear in the tilt of his mouth.
"Don't tell me she pulled out that latex suit?" He asked as his left eye twitched a bit.
Kara groaned and covered her face with one hand for a moment. "Don't even start. I still need brain bleach after that conversation."
"Haaa... That girl," John shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Anyway, forget whatever she said."
Both of them walked toward the door.
...
[10 minutes later] [Outside]
After John cleaned up and put on some clean clothes, he and Kara walked toward the shopping district.
"I guess you want something unique?" He asked.
"Yeah," She nodded.
"What's your favorite color?"
Kara thought for a moment before answering, "White, red and blue."
"Well, I think I got some ideas," John said after thinking for a bit.
Suddenly, Kara stopped in front of the glass window of the hair salon, her reflection staring back at her from behind the neatly printed sign that advertised cuts, colors, and styles in looping gold letters. She tilted her head slightly, studying the way her blonde hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves that had grown longer during the months she spent adjusting to life on Earth.
John noticed her stop and turned back, hands in his pockets.
"Something catch your eye?" he asked.
She kept looking at her reflection for another second before she spoke.
"I think I want a haircut," she said. "Something shorter. Different."
He stepped up beside her and glanced through the window at the stylists moving inside, scissors flashing under bright lights.
--[NOTE: Sorry about the delay. Got lots of IRL work.]
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