- CHAPTER FOUR -
FALLEN FROM GRACE

The corridors of National City Community College were bustling with the usual mid-morning chaos, students shuffling between classes, the air filled with the hum of youthful energy and the occasional laughter. Among the crowd, a figure stood out, her pace quick and determined, weaving through groups of students with an urgency that drew curious glances. This was Emma, a journalism major with a known penchant for the latest news and trends.

Bursting into the girl's bathroom, Emma found her friend Zoe, a fellow gossip enthusiast, standing by the sinks, her attention glued to her phone. "Did it start? Is she streaming again?" Emma panted, her words tumbling out in a rush as she let the door swing shut behind her.

Zoe looked up, her eyes wide with excitement. "Yes," she breathed out, "She just started streaming!" She tilted her phone towards Emma, who quickly scooted closer, their heads coming together as they focused on the small screen.

* * * 

National City's streets had become an impromptu stage for a live performance unlike any its citizens had ever witnessed. At the heart of this spectacle was Supergirl, the city's guardian angel turned streaming sensation, her every move now fodder for her rapidly growing online fanbase.

"Hey, followers! It's your girl Supergirl! And you just watch me kick the crap out of these criminals here!" she proclaimed with a flourish, her voice dripping with a mix of pride and a newfound carefreeness. The phone in her hand, an extension of her persona, captured her in all her glory.

As she panned the camera to showcase her latest act of vigilante justice, her audience was treated to the sight of five men, incapacitated and bound together with what appeared to be a contorted stoplight. The captives were in visible distress, nursing injuries with groans and moans, while one lay unsettlingly still, his condition a grim sight.

"I just want to say, I am so grateful for all the support this last week, and with 3 million subscribers, it's safe to say... I'm not going anywhere!" she chirped, the glee in her voice a stark contrast to the severity of the scene behind her. Her demeanor, once the embodiment of selfless heroism, had taken on the air of a celebrity basking in the adulation of her fans, her powers now a means to an end in a game of likes, views, and subscribes.

She let out a girlish squeal as she struck a provocative pose for the camera, her lips pouting and her chest thrust forward, showcasing the radical redesign of her costume. Still clad in the iconic blues and reds, Supergirl's crest, once a symbol of hope, was cut out, offering an unobstructed view of her deep cleavage. 

"Apparently, people love watching a hot girl kicking ass. Hehe!" she laughed, turning to showcase her plump ass, slapping it with a near-sonic boom. "Now, time for the post-fight show!"

With a precise adjustment of her camera phone, ensuring the towering skyline served as her backdrop, she set it down, allowing her audience to see a brief closeup of her gorgeous face, with long lashes and new full lips. The device, propped securely on a nearby ledge, captured her fully as she took a step back, framing her in a new light, one tinged with anticipation and a hint of something... more.

Floating gently off the ground, Supergirl began her display. "I know, this is what you were actually waiting for!" she greeted, her voice laced with an undeniable warmth and a seductive undertone

"You like what you see?" she teased, striking a pose mid-air, blending forwards, allowing a better peek into her cleavage. She pouted her lips and blew a kiss at the camera. Each word, each gesture, was imbued with a sexual charm, a deliberate attempt to arouse her audience on a level she had never sought before, but it all felt so very natural now. She transitioned from one pose to another, each more suggestive than the last. 

"How about this?" she ventured, her voice playful, inviting her viewers to partake in this new naughty game she was playing. 

She thrust her shoulders back, pointing her breasts outward, having them bounce like planets made of jello. For the briefest of moments, Kara reflected on her actions, knowing this wasn't her, it was the effects of the Black Kryptonite. She knew the mineral had unlocked a part of her that longed to be seen, to be acknowledged not just as a savior but as a figure of desire, a figure of worship. But just as soon as the notion came, it left. 

"I know you can't resist this," she purred. Super girl turns and offered a view of her toned, peach shaped ass. She started to twerk it like a professional, creating loud slapping noises; sonic booms echoing throughout the city. The camera captured every moment, broadcasting this new, flirtatious Supergirl to an audience that was both captivated and stunned by the transformation.

The livestream was a revelation, a declaration of a new Supergirl who flirted with danger and the adoration of her fans in equal measure. "Millions today, billions tomorrow. Can you imagine?" she mused aloud, her words a reflection of her ambition, of the vast potential she saw in this new path she was taking.

Her revelry was interrupted by a weak voice from one of her captives, pleading for the life of his friend. "Um, miss? Excuse me." The man's voice trembled, freighted with fear and concern.

Supergirl's response was swift and merciless. "Shut up, punk! Or I'll rip your arms off!" Her voice, moments ago lite and soft, now carried the cold edge of indifference. The threat hung in the air, a chilling reflection of the power she wielded without restraint.

The man's plea grew more desperate, "M- m- m- my friend over here... I think he's dying. P- please! Call an amb-"

"Shut up! If he dies, he dies! You should have thought of that before you decided to rob this electronic store," Supergirl snapped back, her words cutting through the morning air with finality. The declaration was a stark departure from the hero who had once vowed to protect and serve all lives, criminal or not.

The stream continued, capturing this darker turn in Supergirl's demeanor. Comments flooded in, a varied maelstrom of support, disgust, and even outright adoration for this new unchained version of Supergirl.

She felt something, a slight pang of guilt for going too far. Could she really do that? Could she let this man die? A flash of Frank's lifeless body lying on her bedroom floor hit her, like a slap to the face. She flinched. 

"No. I'm not a killer. I- I can't think about... that," she struggled, breathing deeply in an attempt to maintain herself. "Later. I'll think about it later. I'll deal with him... with it... later. W- whatever." 

This simple, sweet, bit of apathy helped her to calm the sudden oncoming panic and allowed her to imagine that everything was alright. There's nothing to worry about. She giggled to herself with her eyes closed. Supergirl finally looked up, realizing her online audience's silent attention. Supergirl glanced at her phone, reading some of the reactions in real time. 

"Hmmm? Oh dear, am I being too mean?" she spoke aloud, her voice laced with mock concern. 

The briefest pause followed, a moment of contemplation before she shrugged it off with a wave of her hand. "Whatever, you LOVE it! You want a sexy super bitch, being real HARD on crime. Amiright? And I do mean... HHHHARD. Tee hee!"

Her words were a deliberate play, a mix of defiance and performance, knowing full well the power of her image and the sway of her actions over her watchers... her followers. 

"Well, see ya tomorrow! And don't forget to like and subscribe... or I come for you next," she threatened playfully, her gaze piercing through the lens, a grim promise veiled under layers of allure and charm.

Then, as quickly as the threat was issued, her demeanor lightened, bursting into a fit of giggles. "Just kidding! Love you! Buh bye!"

The stream ended, leaving her audience in the throes of a myriad of emotions — excitement, confusion, and for some, unease. 

* * *

In the dimly lit command center of the Justice League headquarters, a sense of unease lingered in the air, palpable and thick. The room, usually alive with the bustling energy of heroes planning their next move against the forces of evil, was subdued, the focus narrowed to a single point of interest: a live feed of Supergirl's recent stream displayed on the massive screen that dominated one wall.

"Look... there," Batman said, his voice a low rumble, as he manipulated the controls to zoom in on a specific detail. The image on the screen sharpened, bringing into focus a small black crystal shard hanging around Supergirl's neck.

"What is that?" Batman’s question hung in the silence that followed, his gaze fixed on the screen.

Superman, standing tall and stoic beside him, leaned in for a closer look. "A crystal," he mused aloud, before turning to Wonder Woman. "Diana, is that it? The Black Kryptonite you were talking about?"

Wonder Woman, her arms crossed, studied the screen with an intensity that matched her companions'. "Possibly... I can't say for sure," she replied thoughtfully. "Maybe we're over-exaggerating. She's a young girl. Perhaps this is just a phase."

Batman's frown deepened, his skepticism clear. "When a Kryptonian has 'a phase', it puts people in danger. No, we need to look into this. It all started when she outed herself on Lois's show." He turned to Superman, his tone turning inquisitive. "Clark, what did Lois have to say about it?"

Superman shrugged, a hint of discomfort in his gesture. "Nothing really. As a matter of fact, she's adamant that Kara is fine. She even seemed a little... taken in by her new attitude. She watches her stream all the time now."

Batman pondered for a moment, his mind racing through possibilities. "Hm. Ok, well. Let's just keep an eye out. Clark, could you ask Lois to talk to her? I trust her. We need to be respectful with Kara, but we also need to know what's going on."

"Alright," Superman replied, the weight of responsibility evident in his voice. "I'll ask her."

"Now to more pressing matters," Batman continued, his tone shifting to one of urgency. 

With a flick of a switch, The Dark Knight changed the screen to display a strange asteroid hovering in the cosmos just outside their Solar System. The image was eerie, the asteroid's surface seemingly absorbing the light around it, making it appear as a shadow against the backdrop of space.

"This object was found just outside our Solar System, and as we track it... there!" He pointed to a part of the screen where the asteroid's trajectory altered inexplicably, "it's moving abnormally and sometimes it disappears altogether."

The three heroes leaned in, their attention captured by the anomaly before them. The implications of such behavior in a celestial object were not lost on them, each aware of the potential dangers it represented.

"Superman, this may take you a few days, but could you go out there? Check it out?" Batman's request was more a command, his trust in Superman's abilities implicit in his tone.

Superman nodded, the sense of duty clear in his eyes. "I'll leave as soon as I speak with Lois."

* * *

Supergirl, the beacon of National City, soared through the cool evening air, her cape fluttering behind her as she made her way home. The city stretched out beneath her. "Beneath her", the thought felt so right. That is where they belonged. "Huh? Wait, that's not right."

Approaching her modest apartment, she slowed with a gentle ease. She floated through the open window, her feet landing softly on the plush new carpet. The apartment around her had been transformed, a stark departure from the simple decor just weeks before. Now, it was a lavish abode, filled with luxuries bought with the money she'd earned through her streaming endeavors.

Her eyes swept the room with a sense of pride. The living area was dominated by a larger, more opulent couch, its soft cushions inviting relaxation and comfort. Opposite it stood a massive television, its screen almost covering the wall, a testament to her new-found love for bigger and better things. She also purchased expensive tables made from the finest woods and adorned her walls with art pieces that would make any novice collector green with envy. It was a visual representation of her success, of her shift from hero to icon.

"This is all nice, but I think I deserve more," she mused aloud, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious apartment. The thought was a seed, planting ideas of further grandeur and opulence in her mind. The world was at her fingertips, and she was only beginning to explore the extent of her desires.

In a blur of motion, she changed out of her costume, the fabric of her Supergirl attire replaced by the delicate touch of lingerie. The ensemble was a soft pink lace, adorned with touches of white fur, a combination that felt both luxurious and incredibly sexy. It was a far cry from the practical pj's of her past, a declaration of her new identity, one that embraced her femininity and power in equal measure.

Supergirl sighed, a sound of contentment, as she fell back onto her new bed. The mattress was huge, far larger than any she'd owned before, and it was covered in countless fluffy pillows that seemed to envelop her in their softness. "Mmm. Yesss," she thought, her mind adrift in the sensations that surrounded her. She felt good, better than she had in a long time. Powerful. Sexy. Unstoppable.

Her reverie was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. The sound was unexpected, a jarring return to reality from the cocoon of comfort she'd wrapped around herself. For a moment, she considered ignoring it, reluctant to leave the sanctuary she'd created. But curiosity, ever a part of her, nudged her towards the entrance as she slowly opened the mahogany door.

The woman on the other side, Judy, Kara's frumpy middle-aged landlord, shifted uncomfortably as she spoke, "Hello, Kara. Um... Supergirl. Heh. Who'd a thought I had THE Supergirl living in my building?" 

Judy's attempt at levity did little to mask her underlying nervousness, a nervousness born of the aura of the woman who stood before her, powerful and famous. "Um, anyway. I hate to bring this up, but some people are starting to complain more about the smell. What um... what is that in there?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the unseen but evidently problematic scent within Supergirl's abode.

Supergirl's body, her stance unwavering, blocked the way in, a beautiful barrier to be seen. "It's nothing, Judy," she replied, her tone a blend of reassurance and finality, hoping to quell further questioning.

Judy, however, persisted, her duty outweighing her trepidation. "Look, I'm sorry. This isn't the first time, and I can smell it even now. How can you not smell that? I have to check it out. This counts as an emergency, so I am allowed to come in—"

"No!" The word was a reflex. In a moment of desperation, Supergirl extended her hand, a gesture not of aggression but of insistence, and from her eyes emanated a familiar beam, gentle yet compelling, that met Judy's gaze.

The effect was immediate. Judy, caught in the glow of Supergirl's will, found her resolve softening, her concerns dissipating like mist under the morning sun. Still, she furrowed her brow, attempting to shake off what was happening to her. 

"You will not go inside. You don't want to. There is no problem," Supergirl intoned, her words piercing Judy's mind.

Judy, the tension in her face fading, echoed the sentiment as if it were her own revelation. "I... wait... I... oh... there is no problem." The transformation in her demeanor was stark, from inquisitive to compliant, under the influence of a power she could neither see nor understand.

"There is no smell. The complaints are lies," Supergirl continued, guiding Judy's perception away from the secret that lurked behind her.

"The complaints are lies," Judy repeated, her conviction now aligned with Supergirl's words.

"And you are tired. It's your bedtime," Supergirl suggested a subtle nudge towards a peaceful resolution.

"So... sleepy," Judy conceded, her earlier purpose forgotten as she turned and walked away.

With Judy gone, Supergirl's gaze focused inward, towards the heart of her home, towards the bedroom where the source of the complaints lay hidden. "I guess I need to deal with... it," she murmured, the weight of the task ahead evident in her voice.

* * *

In the quiet of the night, with only the distant hum of National City outside, Supergirl faced a moment that would define her in ways she had never anticipated. The decision before her was stark, a path that once chosen, could not be undone. It was a moment of reckoning, not with an external foe, but with the consequences of her own actions.

Guilt had begun to seep through the cracks of the facade she'd built, the emotional armor fortified by the shard of black kryptonite around her neck. Its influence had been a balm, numbing her to the moral complexities of her decisions, but even its power couldn't fully quell the stirrings of conscience within her. With a touch to the shard, the swell of guilt and sadness receded, replaced by a cold resolve. It was time to act, to remove the evidence of her darkest moment.

Approaching the closet with a sense of grim determination, she extracted what lay within. The body, once a living, breathing person named Frank, now a silent testament to a moment of weakness, had to be dealt with. The sight, which should have evoked horror or sorrow, was met with a clinical detachment.

Catching her reflection in the mirror as she prepared for what came next, she paused, momentarily admiring her figure, her perfect round breasts, her juicy ass. She looked good. It was a brief distraction from the gravity of her situation. Shaking her head, the realization dawned that she needed to be less conspicuous, an outfit that blended in rather than stood out... and boy did she stand out. "Curves for days," she whispered, giggling to herself. But she immediately shook her head once again. "Focus."

She opted for a black yoga outfit, the fabric hugging her form in a way that was both practical and still flattering. "Black looks good on me," she noted. The choice of black wasn't just practical; it was appropriate, she thought. It felt symbolic, mirroring the darkness of the task at hand. 

With her identity concealed beneath a black cloth tied around her face, she prepared to dispose of... the evidence. 

"Let's do this," she murmured, a mix of resolve and resignation in her voice.

* * *

Supergirl carried Frank on one shoulder, steadily flying upwards, away from her apartment, out of the atmosphere, approaching the cold embrace of space. He was wrapped in an old rug, a ragged thing she had little care for. In a moment, she was in Earth's orbit, floating in the quiet, weightless vacuum of space. Which, of course, did little to deter her... she was Supergirl. 

"Nobody must know," she resolved. Her lips mouthed the words, but there was no sound. The vastness of space, usually a source of comfort, now felt like the only witness to her isolation.

After a moment, she carefully released Frank. Supergirl felt momentary relief watching the body peacefully drifting amidst the stars.

Supergirl hovered, a solitary figure against the backdrop of an endless cosmic sea. With her eyes closed, she sought solace in the void that surrounded her, an expanse that mirrored the growing emptiness she felt inside. The shard of black kryptonite around her neck, a source of power yet a harbinger of darkness, pulsed with an ominous energy.

As the darkness within her expanded, evolving with every heartbeat, Supergirl found herself at a crossroads of conscience and desire. For a fleeting moment, amidst the black silence, a spark of clarity broke through the encroaching shadows. Memories of her former self—the hero who had stood for truth and justice—flashed vividly before her mind’s eye. In a fleeting surge of clarity, she considered the unthinkable: turning herself into the authorities, confessing her misdeeds, seeking redemption. The idea was a beacon of light in the oppressive dark.

However, as this thought crystallized, the black kryptonite pulsed powerfully, its dark energy resonating deep within her, quelling the nascent spark of rebellion. The pulse was like a wave washing over her, smothering the brief flare of her moral compass, drowning it in the depths of newfound desires.

"Yesss." she seemed to moan, but quickly shook the feeling off. "No. This can't continue. I have to fight this. Fight it!" Kara screamed inside her mind. "Fight it!"

As she grappled with these conflicting forces, her attention intermittently drifted to Frank, whose lifeless body floated before her, tethered in the zero gravity that surrounded them. Each slow rotation brought his face into view—his expression peaceful yet haunting, a silent accusation from the grave. Like a car wreck, she couldn't look away. His body turned once again, and in that moment she could have sworn his eyes darted to meet hers. Wrapped in terror, her thoughts turned to mush, and she could hear him. As impossible as it was, she could hear him speak.

"Murderer. Murderer." He whispered, his voice ignoring the laws of physics.   

Horrified, Kara's face contorted. Sorrow and guilt now surged forth with unrestrained ferocity. The emotions she experienced were raw, overwhelming, slicing through the fog of corruption like a beacon of pure, agonizing clarity. His face, so tortured and so resentful, became the catalyst for a realization too profound to ignore—she could no longer fight the darkness. The pain of her actions, the weight of her guilt, it was too much to bear.

In that moment, filled with fear and uncertainty, Supergirl closed her eyes again and let the word gestate inside her. "Surender." She was rewarded with a jolt in her pussy. "Surender." Her pussy twitched again. The second time was easier. This wasn't so bad. The decision to let go, to embrace the dark influence of the crystal, was both a defeat and a liberation. With trembling hands, she reached to the shard of Black Kryptonite hanging around her neck,  and let the dark energies of the kryptonite flood through her.

The moment was violent and profound. A raging rush of void enveloped her, not just filling the emptiness but expanding within her, reshaping her pain into something else—something powerful, serene, and a taste of malice. The sensation was akin to diving into a deep, cool lake, where the water soothes even as it prickles.

Suddenly, her body spasmed, a physical reaction to the internal metamorphosis that the kryptonite wrought. As if possessed, Kara, with her significant strength, tore at the black fabric that covered her cunt, revealing her glistening juicy folds that peaked out from the rip in her leggings. Beads of moisture drifted from her pussy and out into space. She was wet beyond belief and horny beyond comprehension. Her other hand had an agenda of its own. It snapped the black crystal from the string that bound it. Then she paused for the briefest of moments, until, with a forceful thrust, as inevitable as gravity itself, she jammed it inside her aching, wanton pussy.  

Supergirl's mind exploded. A nuclear orchestra of sensation. Her head shot back, her eyes opened wide, and a huge insane smile streaked across her face, ear to ear. The only thought in her mind, that wonderful word, "Surrender." But this time it was without trepidation. It was a simple fact. "Surrender."

Then, slowly at first, she worked the black kryptonite in and out of her cunt. In and out. Each time she pushed it in, it spilled more and more of it's vile energy inside her. She didn't know it, her mind was somewhere else, but she was cumming. The whole time, she cummed and cummed. The orgasm was a rolling massive wave, continuously splashing against the shores of her body, seeping into the sands of her soul. It felt good. No. It felt divine.

Kara began to spasm again, even more this time. Violent jerks forced her body to twist and contort, but her right hand stayed put, working the shard inside her needy, vibrating cunt.

And on she came. Her mind, broken from bliss, was reforming itself. In short, empathy was being burned out, while entitlement, selfishness, and pleasure poured in. Frank was still rotating in front of her. But instead of glaring at her with judgment, he had an enormous smile to match her own. 

"Yes! Do it, Kara. Work that pussy! I'm glad you killed me! I deserved it! I'm nothing. You are everything!"  Frank said, his voice filled with worship and lust. 

"I- I am e- everything!" She repeated, not perceiving that his words were in fact in her head; given he was floating in a vacuum and well... dead. 

Pleasuring herself in the silent, endless void of space, Supergirl felt the overwhelming influence of the black kryptonite tightening its grip on her very soul. The potent, malevolent energy surged and seeped into every corner of her being, overpowering her thoughts and shattering what little was left of her resolve. As the darkness consumed her and her orgasm reached unfathomable heights, reality itself began to blur, plunging her into a hallucinatory state where time and space lost all meaning.

Flashes of strange interdimensional creatures flickered before her—amorphous beings with too many eyes and limbs, their forms shifting and morphing in ways that defied comprehension. Swirls of wicked energy danced around her, tendrils of dark energy wrapping around her limbs, whispering promises of dominion and ultimate power. The space around her was thick with malevolence and filled her with an exhilarating sense of foreboding.

In this surreal landscape, Supergirl caught glimpses of a dark truth underlying the universe—a tantalizing, fragmented vision of forbidden knowledge and power. The mere presence of this truth ignited a fierce hunger within her, an insatiable craving for more. As she continued to convulse, her eyes unfocused, she envisioned herself commanding legions of minions, creatures from these otherworldly realms, all bound to her by the dark energies she now embraced.

The pleasure, the power, the promise was too great, and Supergirl surrendered to the darkness completely. Her body now spasmed in short, brutal jerks, as the surreal visions intensified, a storm of interdimensional chaos enveloping her. In a final, cathartic shift, she let go completely, allowing the void to entirely consume her. 

Supergirl felt a strange sensation building, a pressure that seemed to originate from deep inside her. Still jolting in pleasure, she mindlessly took the Black Kryptonite out of her pussy, and opened her legs, spread eagle. A little beam of purple light peaked out of her slit, as her hips repeatedly thrust, milking an invisible cock. Soon her slit expanded and the beam intensified, illuminating the surrounding darkness with an eerie, otherworldly purple glow. Her pussy lips opened up even more, and you could see there was a dance of light and shapes inside of it. It was as if another dimension existed within her, a realm teeming with dark power and twisted secrets.

There was something else inside her, behind the purple light. At first, it was just a little nub, pushing through, widening her slit again. But then it rushed out with purpose, revealing a strange fleshy thing, birthing itself out of her cunt. More followed. An array of grotesque tentacles and mutated arms emerged, each one pulsing with sinister energy. All of them remained connected to her as they emerged and advanced. These tendrils were slick and serpentine, their surfaces glistening with an unearthly sheen. Some were covered in eyes, blinking and searching, while others had claws and pincers snapping hungrily. The arms were equally horrifying—elongated, with too many joints, and hands that seemed to sprout additional fingers at random, some tipped with sharp talons.

Supergirl, lost in overwhelming bliss, was oblivious to the monstrous appendages that were extending from her; her eyes were white, rolled back completely. The tendrils and arms moved with a predatory grace, reaching out towards Frank’s lifeless, floating body. The tentacles coiled around his limbs, their grip firm and unyielding, while the mutated arms grabbed hold, their claws digging into his flesh.

As the appendages pulled Frank toward her crotch, his body bent unnaturally in half to fit into her gaping pussy. The sight was grotesque, his form folding with a sickening ease, bones cracking and ligaments tearing. Kara's hips thrust harder and the tentacles and arms worked in concert, pulling him deeper with each heave, their movements methodical and relentless. Kara arched her back, still unaware, as her pussy opened to otherworldly proportions, allowing the twisted broken body inside her. He disappeared inch by inch, swallowed by the purple void within Supergirl. Her belly, flat and huge with the remains of a full-grown man. And soon... Frank was no more.

As the last of the tendrils and arms retracted inside her, the purple glow dimmed. Supergirl’s legs closed, and the beam of light finally disappeared into nothingness, sealing the portal shut. Her protruding belly, with a series of twitches and gurgles, shrunk back to it's former flat shape.  Then, with one last reflexive thrust of her hips, she passed out.

Suspended in the cold void of space, Supergirl slowly awakened, the aftermath of the event settling over her like a shroud. The cosmos around her was silent, the stars distant and indifferent to the changes that had taken place within her. As consciousness returned, she felt a profound difference in herself—a surge of power and an incredible sense of detachment. Memories of the surreal, nightmarish events were fragmented, unreliable. 

She blinked, her vision clearing as she took in her surroundings. The last clear memory she had was of Frank’s lifeless body floating nearby, but now, he was gone. There was no trace of him. A flicker of confusion passed through her mind, but it was fleeting. The absence of Frank should have concerned her, but instead, she found that she didn't care. In fact, she was glad he was dead and gone. He was fucking idiot. She felt good—no, she felt incredible—and that was all that mattered.

Her eyes were drawn to a glimmer of light before her. Floating serenely in the void was the shard of black kryptonite, its surface pulsing with a sinister glow. The sight of it brought a wicked smile to her lips. She reached out, her fingers brushing against its cold surface, feeling the familiar, subtle pulse of energy that resonated with the something inside her.

Just then, a soft blue light could be seen, emanating from her special issue cell phone, tucked into the waist of her leggings. Holding it out in front of her, the display flickered to life, revealing a message from Lois Lane. "Kara, we need to talk. Meet me at our usual spot. It’s important."

Supergirl’s smile widened into something more malevolent, her eyes briefly glinting with a dangerous purple light. New ideas rushed into her mind, filling her with a perverse sense of anticipation. She closed the message, and with a single, powerful motion, Supergirl propelled herself towards Earth, the shard clutched tightly in her grasp, feeling its dark energy infuse her with even greater strength and resolve.