Chapter 11 (edited)

Kara's super-hearing picked up every word of Jennifer's conversation with her father. She also observed Jennifer's nervousness and hesitation through her enhanced vision. Jennifer had confided in her father, seeking his help to locate Kara and, if necessary, to stop her.

However, Jennifer harbored deep worries. If they stumbled upon Kara while she was in the middle of something incriminating, their presence could mark them as witnesses against her. With a heavy heart, Jennifer decided to leave with her father, hoping to avoid escalating the situation.

Only after they were gone did Kara step out of the alley, her expression unreadable. She glanced in the direction they had gone and let out a small, relieved smile. At least I didn't make friends.

Kara had always been cautious about forming bonds. A superficial friendship with someone like Jennifer wouldn't demand much from her, but a more sincere connection could lead to complications. Accusations or betrayals often followed such entanglements, and Kara had no interest in that kind of vulnerability.

The small-town street was deserted; the late hour ensured that almost no one was out. Unlike the bustling cities where lights stayed on and people lingered into the night, this quiet town fell silent early.

Returning to the scene, Kara found the two drunks she had incapacitated. Without hesitation, she delivered powerful kicks to their legs, nearly breaking their bones. The intense pain jolted them awake.

Standing tall above them, Kara's demeanor was far from soft or approachable. She exuded a cold and intimidating aura that silenced any thought of defiance.

The drunks had given her two nicknames earlier: "Strong Girl" and "Tyrant." Both carried weight, but the latter suited her current presence more. At that moment, Kara embodied a ruthless force, commanding fear with every word and movement.

"You're lucky you don't have weapons," she said, her voice ice-cold. Her X-ray vision had confirmed they were unarmed. "That's the only reason I'm sparing you. But you should know what to say—and what not to say."

The two men cowered beneath her glare, nodding furiously, too terrified to speak.

Kara's expression hardened further. "Your companion won't be so lucky. He's dead. And when the police investigate tomorrow, you'll tell them someone dressed like a bat took him—not me. Do you understand?"

The implication was clear: she was pinning the crime on Gotham's vigilante, Batman. If Bruce Wayne ever found out that his future reputation had been invoked in a small-town cover-up, he might not be too pleased.

The drunks, now fully aware of the stakes, nodded again, trembling. Satisfied, Kara turned on her heel, her boots clicking against the pavement as she walked away.

After a few steps, she paused and glanced back. "By the way," she asked, her voice deceptively calm, "who started calling me 'Strong Girl'?"

The drunks exchanged nervous glances before shaking their heads. They had no idea where the nickname originated, only that it had spread through whispered rumors.

Kara sneered. She wasn't fond of the moniker. The persona she presented to her adoptive parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent, was a stark contrast to the figure feared by the town's underworld.

Kara had become infamous—not just for her beauty and intelligence but for her raw strength and aggression. Criminals learned quickly that provoking her often ended with disastrous consequences. Tonight wasn't the first time she'd dealt with someone decisively, but it marked the first time she had taken a life.

Her parents remained blissfully unaware of this side of her. To them, she was their sweet, obedient daughter. They had no idea she'd garnered a reputation that made even the town's most hardened delinquents tread lightly.

Finished with the drunks, Kara disappeared into a nearby alley. Once out of sight, she crouched and leapt into the sky, soaring above the sleeping town.

Flying came naturally to her now. She had grown increasingly adept at controlling her Kryptonian powers, and tonight, she discovered something new: the bio-field.

The bio-field allowed her to distribute her power evenly across an object or person. For instance, if she needed to stop a falling airplane, applying pressure to one part of the plane could break it in half. But with the bio-field, she could support the entire structure, preventing catastrophic damage.

This ability extended to her interactions with others. Without the bio-field, catching someone falling from a great height would turn her into a razor-sharp blade against their fragile body. But with it, her arms could cradle them gently, like a cushioned bed.

The bio-field also bolstered her defense. Her Kryptonian suit was designed to withstand immense damage, but even it had limits against advanced weaponry. The bio-field reinforced her clothing, making even simple fabrics bulletproof. It also shielded her during supersonic flights, preventing her clothes from tearing under the immense force.

Kara reveled in this newfound mastery, but her thoughts remained somber. As she flew into the night, the weight of her choices pressed against her. She wasn't Superman. She wasn't here to inspire hope or embody justice.

She was Kara Zor-El, and her path was her own.