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Alex was idly flicking through Netflix.
Kara was dozing off on her shoulder, covered in a comforting blanket. She had crashed before the evening had begun, but Alex could not possibly blame her; last week had probably been one of the hardest on her. Even superheroes deserve naps, especially when it's after saving the entire Earth. The brunette's mind flickered to a related subject.
Kara was right.
Max might have helped them save the world, and proved that he could be less than completely unbearable to work with, but this did not magically fix his mistakes. Alex knew that. More importantly, it did not mean that he would collaborate with them willingly in the future; there was no way he did not have some leftover resentment over being locked up. He might have gained respect for Supergirl, but they would never be true allies. They couldn't; deep down, Max had a fundamentally different perception of the world. His narcissism might have been a defence mechanism of some sorts, but these things are sly. They infiltrate your mind when you think you're in control and before you realise it, you've faked it and you've made it. You've become someone else, and you can't really remember where you were when it all started, the taste of hard alcohol and clubbing numbing it all.
Alex knew that too. She pressed on the button a second time, a bit too forcefully. It wasn't her fault Kara was too distracted to replace her borderline functioning remote.
Spy Romance flashed on the screen. She briefly remembered Vasquez telling her about this article she had read on Netflix's weirdest hidden categories. What even.
Click. Multimillionaire Documentaries.
She didn't realise she had it in her to roll her eyes that strongly. Alex, the bigger sister, the One Who's Supposed To Have Her Shit Together And Help Others and who had flown an alien spacecraft into space last Thursday was having an internal turmoil over the goodness of Maxwell Lord and now, this. Technology was once again her enemy and it didn't even give her a week's rest. The remote flashed red yet another time.
Maybe you would be interested in "Mata Hari: Dancing with the Devil" documentary?
This couldn't be real. She was about to shut the TV off completely when she noticed something peculiar. She straightened herself up, almost too fast; gladly Kara was a deep sleeper. She squinted. This was Netflix, but it also wasn't. She thought that maybe they had updated when the two of them had turned it on earlier, but now it seemed clear that that wasn't it. There was no other answer. This was a counterfeit, and they had been hacked.
Pop. A small notification appeared in the middle of the screen.
"Fooled you - that documentary is not actually on Netflix. However, I have noticed your fascination with it and luckily for you, I own a deluxe copy. I would gladly allow you to have a look, and believe that you would greatly appreciate my commentary. Let's call it a date?"
It took Alex three erratic presses until the screen turned off. She threw the remote past the night table, stormed towards the power supply and yanked the cable out, which was completely necessary. Kara had slumped down and was now spread out on the whole length of the couch, with a peaceful expression gracing her face.
Alex crossed her arms, uncrossed them, then used one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose while the other ran through her auburn hair.
She'll replace that damn remote tomorrow.