{AN: If I'm not mistaken, most people are going for Kara because it's fits in YJ and Raven is kinda used a lot. I like it and can work with it, here's our winner:
Kara Zor-El!
Cheer! Cry! Whine! The decision has been made!
Enjoy reading lol!}
:}
[1st Person POV: Jaime]
It was a quiet morning—too quiet, honestly. The kind where the whole house feels like it's holding its breath. The Reyes house usually buzzed with life, even if it was just the hum of Nana's radio or Milagro yelling at her laptop. But today? Everyone was home, and for once, no one had somewhere to be. Perfect.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands. "Family meeting. Living room. Now."
Milagro groaned from her beanbag chair. "Ugh, are you finally going to admit you're a lizard person? Because, like, we already know."
"Just get in here," I said, already pulling a box from under the couch. Inside were five polished black cases, each the size of a glasses case.
Ma, Pa, Nana, Uncle Rudy, and Milagro gathered slowly, their curiosity outweighing their suspicion—for now.
I cleared my throat. "So, you remember how I mentioned Khaji Da isn't just a parasite but a partner? And how I've been learning new abilities?"
"You mean the glowy robot spider that lives in your spine? Yeah, hard to forget," Uncle Rudy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still getting nightmares about that demonstration."
"It was a joke!" I protested. "Kinda. Anyway... I've been working on something. A way to protect all of you."
I opened the cases one by one. Inside each was a small, stylized beetle—sleek, black, and glinting with blue circuit-like patterns. They looked like something out of a sci-fi fashion magazine, which was the point.
"These are Beetles. Not the invasive kind," I added before anyone could interrupt. "They're not connected to your nervous systems. No spinal drills, I promise. They sit on your clothing like pins or clip onto jewelry, and they stay dormant until they're needed."
Milagro leaned in. "Do they shoot lasers?"
"No. But they do a lot of other things. Environmental hazard shielding—so, heat, cold, gas, electric shock—emergency shielding, enhanced reflexes in dangerous situations, and a panic signal directly to me."
"What about style points?" she asked.
"Yours is shaped like a ladybug. Don't act like you don't love it."
She tried not to grin. Failed.
Ma touched hers carefully, which looked like a delicate brooch. "And this will keep us safe? Even if you're not around?"
"That's the idea. I can't be everywhere, but this is the next best thing. And I upgraded the house's firewall, by the way, so don't worry about weird satellite interference."
"My Beetle has fangs," Uncle Rudy said, peering at his. "Nice. Can mine have a taser function?"
"...We'll talk."
Nana, who hadn't said a word, squinted at hers—etched with Mayan symbols and aged silver trim. She pinned it right to her blouse. "About time you made yourself useful."
"Gracias, Nana."
Ma stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you, mijo. For thinking of us. But... does this mean you're going to start fighting crime?"
I swallowed. "Not yet. I'm not ready for that."
I looked around at the people I loved more than anything. "I'm training. Studying. I've downloaded martial arts manuals, sparring data, even some Justice League archives. Khaji Da helps me simulate training sessions."
"Yeah," Milagro mumbled. "We've heard you thumping around in the garage like a giant robot hamster."
"He's learning," Khaji Da's voice echoed faintly from my chest. "I estimate a 37% reduction in Jaime's clumsiness."
"Thanks, buddy," I said dryly.
"So you're just going to train?" Pa asked, voice low. "What happens when someone needs help and you're the only one who can give it?"
"Then I help," I said. "But not until I know I won't die doing it. Or get someone else killed."
The room was silent. Then Uncle Rudy nodded. "Smart kid. About time someone in this family used their brain."
Later that night, I was back in the garage, my safe haven of half-finished circuits and sparring drones.
Khaji Da generated three hard-light projections—one boxing stance, one taekwondo, one jiu-jitsu. I moved between them, adjusting my footwork, deflecting, dodging, trying to build muscle memory on top of instinct.
I still sucked. But I was sucking less every day.
After an hour, I collapsed onto the bench, sweaty and sore.
A soft chime sounded in my ear. A faint emergency beacon, downtown. Nothing life-threatening—probably a robbery or car accident.
I stared at the suit resting on the mannequin in the corner. Black with streaks of luminous cobalt, sleek and menacing. It looked ready for war.
I wasn't.
Not yet.
But soon.
I touched the photo of my family taped to my toolbox.
"I'll be ready. I swear."
The beacon continued to blink. But I didn't move.
Not yet.