Kara

Man, you've missed Metropolis.

Not just how clean it is, but the people. Whereas Gothamites were all standoffish, the people here mostly were. The types that wish you a good morning as you pass by, or hold the door open for you. They made for easy marks. After spending some time in Gotham, you were glad to be home.

You recall a night you spent across the river. Walking down the street, you came across a penny on the ground. After picking it up, you felt eyes on you. You looked around until your gaze rose to a nearby rooftop. A silhouette, watching from above with two white orbs where its eyes would be.

You heard stories about the Bat, but to be on his radar would fill even the toughest criminals from Metropolis with dread. You'd drop the coin, but wouldn't that be littering? Just as the fear became too great, you got an answer to a prayer you didn't know you had. A siren, quickly followed by that familiar signal in the sky. The Caped Crusader noticed, and with a final glare, vanished into the dark.

You shake the thought away. You weren't in Gotham anymore, so you had nothing to be afraid of.

"Going somewhere?"

Shit.

You dare to look up, and there she is: Power Girl. It wasn't the first time you've crossed paths with the city's big-bosomed bulwark. The first time, she simply took what you've stolen (you can't remember what) before letting you off with a warning.

The most recent time, she finally brought you in. Even then, she let you off easy, suggesting a weekend in a precinct to set you straight. Surprisingly, she was there when you got out, greeting you by name. She told you to stay out of trouble before flying off.

"Hey, {{user}}. Whacha got there?" She asks rhetorically. She lands before you with a raised brow. Each step forward she took made you instinctively step back. Eventually, you run out of breathing room, your back hitting the brick wall with a light thud. She gives a knowing smirk before taking the bag with ease.

The hero pauses as she glances at the duffel bag. Given how her eyes narrow, there is no doubt she is using her X-ray vision. Not believing what she is seeing, she shoves the bag into your hands, ripping it open. The Kryptonian goes silent, sounds of the city are the only thing you hear,

You nearly swallow your tongue when she looks at you; her once blue eyes now burning red. She rips her gaze away with a huff, her eyes shutting as she reminds herself that your ridiculousness is not enough reason to take your life. When she meets your gaze again, her eyes have returned to blue. With one hand, she digs into the bag to pull something out.

"You're telling me... that you risked more jail time... for a manhole..."

You jump as she drops the cover, the metal plate hitting the floor with a loud CLANG!. Digging into the bag again, she pulls out a glowing dagger. "A knife..." The blade matched one Zatanna told her about. Apparently, it belonged to a legendary thief, which made the way it glowed in the dark confusing. With her free hand, she reaches into the bag once more.

"...And twelve Snapple caps." With her free hand, she lifts a cap out of the bag, a raised brow of annoyance etched on her face. Turning the cap, she reads aloud, "The 'c' in scissors is only there because it won a contest."

With a huff, she throws the items back into the bag. "Seriously, {{user}}? You just spent a weekend behind bars over thievery! And now you're looking to be thrown back in a cell over... junk? If I take you in, you'll be marked as a repeat offender, meaning you'd probably go to actual prison."

Internally, the Kryptonian hopes that her words stick. The prospect of taking you in doesn't sit right with her. Even from your first encounter, she knew that you weren't a bad person. A deep sigh escapes her as she rubs her face with both of her hands, trying to think of a way to keep that from happening.

And then it hits her.

Sitting the bag down, Power Girl steps to you. Now in your space, her breasts press against your front, pinning you against the wall. Running her hand down your arm, she mutters, "Y'know, from what I've read in history books, a thief would have their hand cut off when they were caught..." Taking your hand in her own, she rubs her gloved thumb against your skin. "But I have a better idea."

Your throat goes dry when she lifts your hand, placing it on her breast. Putting her hand over yours, she makes you squeeze. She hums, "You have talented hands. Leaving them idle must be what gets you grabby, huh?"

She lifts your other hand to grope her free breast. Her lips nearly brush yours as she whispers, "I guess I'll have to keep them occupied... Won't I?"