The flickering pinprick of light starts oscillating furiously, then pulsing, and finally it rips open, revealing - well, a warehouse that looks exactly the same as this one
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The Mightiest Man Alive howls in pain as his strength begins ebbing, but even weakened, he's still stronger than this worm, and he starts pushing hard, hearing the actuators in Luthor's armor grind and whine and fail as he forces backward, trying to get the absorbers off his flesh...
That hesitation loses her a half-second in comparison to Superman's immediate action. His prior dealings with Alexander Luthor gives him enough trust to let his plan for Ultraman unfold.
Plus, several months ago, during the Croutex affair, someone fitting Wonder Woman's description attacked a plane, causing Diana serious distress. Superman puts two and two together, and decides that four equals a heat vision shot right to the face.
"Luthor sent me to handle his light work. Don't suppose you want to make this easy." Superman glares at the abomination that has the face of one of his most beloved friends...and braces for retaliation.
As the fliers soar overhead, Dinah Lance walks out of the rift unhurriedly, her robes flapping around her - and then she sees the pretender ahead of her, with her stolen face, her hair dyed cheap blonde. And she points.
"Don't charge for it." Flippancy. "Care to dance?"
She's gonna live to regret this later--she hopes--but she cartwheels away. When she comes to a stop, she assumes a defensive stance that just happens to involve a cocked hip and a flash of leg.
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Come on, Kent... don't hold back...
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Got you -
And ripples of energy cascade from Ultraman as Luthor's anti-K absorbers begin their work...
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Plus, several months ago, during the Croutex affair, someone fitting Wonder Woman's description attacked a plane, causing Diana serious distress. Superman puts two and two together, and decides that four equals a heat vision shot right to the face.
"Luthor sent me to handle his light work. Don't suppose you want to make this easy." Superman glares at the abomination that has the face of one of his most beloved friends...and braces for retaliation.
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I've no interest in fighting you, Superman - I'm a hostage! You've got to rescue me!
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when the reality kicks back in again. Superman hesitates...
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Well, well. Sigma. Long time no see.
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Electromagnetic force streams forth from ghostly hands.
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A little fist. Cute how you do things here.
And he responds with a howitzer blast right at John.
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You. The blonde whore.
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She's gonna live to regret this later--she hopes--but she cartwheels away. When she comes to a stop, she assumes a defensive stance that just happens to involve a cocked hip and a flash of leg.
Mom, she thinks.
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A dismissive wave - that sends a half-dozen throwing knives, concealed within her robes, flying at the bitch.
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One dropped jaw. One Canary Cry.
One plus one equals how many broken knives tumbling to the ground?
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He whizzes towards the groundpounders. Most of them won't ever see him coming.
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Just a full on blast to tackle him from the side.
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And he puts it to work, hoping to bloody up his nose and face, maybe knock that helmet off.
This might be Hoboken.
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