In the communicator, Bruce Wayne's voice was devoid of warmth.
"Clark."
The voice came through the current, clearly drilling into everyone's ears.
"Report to me immediately."
"What... have you done?"
Clark, kneeling on the ground, trembled and stopped his shoulders from shaking.
He didn't look up, didn't answer, but remained in that painful posture, like a broken sculpture.
Diana couldn't bear it any longer. She picked up her communicator and explained to the other end.
"Bruce, listen to me, the situation is very complicated. Zod, he..."
"I didn't ask you, Diana." Bruce's voice roughly interrupted her, "I'm asking him."
"Clark Kent! Answer me!"
This reprimand finally made Clark react.
He slowly raised his head, his handsome face covered in tears and dirt, his blue pupils frighteningly empty.
His lips moved, his voice hoarse as if abraded by sandpaper.
"I... killed him."
On the other end of the communicator, there was a long silence.
A deathly silence.
After the silence, Bruce's voice, suppressed to the extreme, seemed to be squeezed through his teeth.
...You crossed the line.
"This is not an excuse, Clark. You crossed that line, the line all of us must obey!"
"He is different from you, from me, from all of us."
"See you at the Watchtower."
"We... need to have a serious talk."
"Beep."
The communication was unilaterally cut off.
Diana looked at the silent communicator in her hand, then at Clark, who was kneeling on the ground, once again lost in his own world, her face full of worry.
This matter would not be easily resolved.
Bruce had an almost obsessive adherence to the no-kill rule.
Now the symbol of the Justice League had personally broken this ironclad rule.
This would stir up an unimaginable storm within the Justice League.
At the same time.
Another street corner in New York City.
"Boss! How much for these burritos? Give me ten! No, twenty!"
Tel-Ror, with one foot on an overturned fire hydrant, his upper body revealing well-defined pectorals and abs, shouted impatiently at an uncle cowering and trembling in a food truck.
His wild smile made the boss's legs tremble even more.
"And... and me! I want a super extra cheese and sour cream chimichanga! Hurry, hurry! I'm starving to death!"
Deadpool also came over, waving a few crumpled banknotes in his hand.
Kara followed behind them, looking at these two clowns with a helpless expression.
She walked up to the boss, who was so scared he was about to wet his pants, pulled out a few dollars from her neckline, and handed them over with an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry, sir, they... have some issues. Is this enough? If not, I can..."
"Enough, enough! Lady, more than enough!" The boss saw the normal Kara as if he had seen a savior, fumbling to take the money.
Tel-Ror didn't care about any of that. He snatched a freshly made burrito from the boss's hand, stuffed it into his mouth in two or three bites, and mumbled indistinctly.
"So slow... and the taste is just average."
Chewing, he turned his head and met Kara's eyes, which were both annoyed and amused.
"What are you looking at?" Tel-Ror raised an eyebrow, "Never seen a handsome guy eat? You eat too, you'll only have strength once you're full..."
He deliberately drew out his tone, leaned close to Kara's ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear.
...to continue fighting at home.
Kara's face instantly turned red.
She remembered the three days and three nights of hard fighting before, and feeling both shy and angry, she raised her hand and punched Tel-Ror's muscular arm.
"Shut up!"
The force wasn't heavy, more like a tickle.
Tel-Ror burst out laughing, feeling very pleased.
He thought that after a fight, eating something, and then teasing his girlfriend, life couldn't be better.
As for his cousin who was still emo... what did it have to do with him?
Why be so fragile, man?
Deadpool watched the two flirt from the side, a chimichanga in his mouth, his eyes darting around.
He leaned over to Tel-Ror and whispered mysteriously.
"Big Shot, Big Shot, can we discuss something?"
"Speak." Tel-Ror took another burrito.
"Look, you two are a perfect match, a match made in heaven, aren't you missing something?"
"Missing what?"
"You're missing a wedding officiant!" Deadpool slapped his thigh, "How about me? I can host, I can take a bullet, I'm great at livening things up, and I can even double as a flower boy! 20% off, dear!"
Tel-Ror eyed him sideways.
"Scram."
"Alright!"
Deadpool nimbly rolled to the side, continuing to harass the food truck owner.
Night quietly descended upon this scarred land.
The heroes had begun to withdraw, and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s follow-up units took over the scene, carrying out clean-up and rescue work.
Clark still knelt on the ruins, motionless.
Diana had also stayed with him.
Just as everyone's attention was drawn to other matters, several black, unmarked heavy trucks silently drove into the edge of the battlefield.
The doors opened, and a group of armed personnel wearing black high-tech combat suits and full-face masks jumped out.
Their movements were uniform and made no unnecessary sounds.
Their objective was clear—the two fallen Kryptonian bodies.
They took out silver briefcases, which, when opened, revealed precisely designed instruments.
Several blue beams of light scanned Zod and Fiona's bodies, and data was rapidly uploaded.
"Sample activity confirmed."
"Target body structure integrity 87%."
"Preparing for recovery."
A huge cryogenic container was lowered.
They carefully placed Zod and Fiona's bodies into the container.
In a similarly black helicopter in the distance.
A man in an expensive suit, his bald head gleaming under the cabin lights, quietly watched all of this through a screen.
He revealed a satisfied smile.
He picked up a satellite phone and dialed a number.
"Samples recovered."
"Two... perfect samples."
A respectful voice came from the other end of the phone.
"Congratulations, Mr. Luthor."
"Prepare for research." Lex Luthor's voice carried an irrepressible excitement and madness.
[I kind of like this Fiona, what do you guys think, should she be revived and taken in?]