I think I jokingly referred to Red Tornado hooking up with Superboy in an author's note from one of my fics, so here it is: deliciously mechanical trash-tastic romance.

Warnings: innuendo. There is nothing graphic.

Chapter 1: We'll Meet Again

But his eyes and ears still functioned perfectly as did the prodigious mind that had been built for him all those years ago...and really, what else matters?

"What will you make of me?" Tornado droned, perfectly pitched and with equal, eerily calculated pauses between words. His voice never faltered, but it's low pitch wrung out like a pristine vinyl record, both captivating Canary and causing a slight fear. The robot's voice was the essence of a hunky man, but in its perfection, it sounded with the decay of modern society. Despite modern technological advances, the horrors of pollution and labor exploitation sank beneath the surface. More importantly, what was the role of women in a world of man-bots like Red Tornado?

She really needed to quit getting all...philosophical...These thoughts shouldn't be pondered while adjusting her fishnets.

"Human," Dinah whispered, trying to mask the slight glee beaming from within her. She could have said other phrases that rhymed with "bum" and specifically ended in "dumpster," but the Tornado just wouldn't understand. Even if Canary licked her lips, winked, and demonstrated the mind-boggling extent of her flexibility, the robot was just too ignorant of things all too human.

Red Tornado could be the world's greatest experiment or just the victim of her deluded, voyeuristic fantasies but it's not like she was truly harming him. Her actions wouldn't lead to her becoming bound, gagged, and beaten in a Justice League holding cell. But it's not like she hadn't wanted to test that before...preferably with the oh so androgynous Serena Williams-like arms of Wonder Woman...nevertheless, she was practically Superboy's mother. She could take joy in seeing her son happy without the burden of guilt slowly trickling within her. Maybe one day she would regret...but brainwashed robots seemed like too much of an oxymoron to take seriously.

Honestly, by the time her sculpted body loosened into a layer cake of greasy, liver-spotted fat folds, it's not like her mind could regret. Canary would be either too senile or too drugged out to even remember this. It was worth it even if prudes like Batman would disagree...and it wasn't like Papa-bats had a right to judge her actions with what he made Robin wear. Even Canary's clothes were modest in comparison to the boy-toy wonder's.

Fighting like a ninja-turned stripper definitely distracted Robin's villains...

Dinah mentally berated herself, returning to focus on Red Tornado, whose chest plate had been opened to reveal a bird's nest of chords, wires, and who-knows-what. Sure, she should have probably tried studying his...anatomy...beforehand, but it's not like an illegally downloaded sexbot program from the web could give him a virus...More importantly, could robot-Kryptonain relations result in an STD? She certainly had heard of stranger stuff while fighting with the league.

If she was caught, the best approach might be to just saucily drawl "whoopsies" and entice whoever with a free lap dance...wait, what? She meant a distraction based on the arts of the ancient near east...yes, that made her sound like classy lady. She wasn't a common stripper, but an artist. Dinah wasn't morally bankrupt, but and intellectually enlightened libertine. She was a good mother who wouldn't take Red Tornado's pre-programmed 'no' for an answer.

As she rearranged Tornado's wires and suddenly jammed a zip-drive into the nether-regions of the robot's circuitry, Dinah hoped that Kaldur would be the one to catch her. Secretly, she had always dreamt of suckling on scaly mer flesh after watching the Little Mermaid; in some regards, that was why she could never see herself with the robot. Tornado wasn't hot, fishy-wet, and clam-bikini-clad; he was cold and metallic like her used-until-it-broke jackrabbit that she kept in her dresser drawer...

Hopefully, Superboy wouldn't break his new toy. Maybe this would be a good time to give he son the talk, preferably mid-coitus. Who was she kidding? Mount Justice had surveillance for a reason.

"I'm finally done with you," Dinah whispered as she lowered her head to study the robot's exposed chest. If her vision had been impaired, the robot's circuits could be mistaken for alluringly wild patches of hair. Combined with his frame, which hearkened back to the ideal masculine bodies of Renaissance painters like Michelangelo... oh where was she even going with this? Maybe Tornado's creator had an overtly strong obsession with male bodies like Michelangelo or more likely, she was too inebriated to even stand.

Dinah finally collapsed quite gracefully onto Red Tornado, mashing their bodies together. In the end of the day, she was still a classy lady, a good mother, and perhaps the most qualified hero in the league.

Tomorrow, Conner would finally receive his birthday wish.

AN: As I kept writing, I got even less serious. I should not have watched "Leprechaun: Back 2 tha Hood." Seriously. Anyways, any feedback is appreciated. Or even feedback on which of my other fics should I turn to first to update. Respond and I shall message back. I am debating whether to respond to reviews from my other fics now or when I finally update, but know that I have appreciated reviews. Please, if there's bad grammar, just call me out. Preferably by pulling out my weave. Lol :)

Anyways, this chapter isn't serious, but the Tornado/Superboy of next chapter might be (any thoughts?)