However, when Little Superman flew out of the crater he had punched into the ground, he found that there were no fewer Supermen in the sky. They had been waiting outside for him to show his head.
Every one of these fakes was expressionless, making it obvious at a glance that they were fakes. But their Heat Vision was very real.
Hit by more than a dozen beams of Heat Vision at once, Little Superman was sent flying a great distance. He fell from Washington D.C. straight into the Atlantic Ocean to the east, his body covered in scorched burns.
When he hit the water, the heat radiating from his body kicked up a cloud of steam. It hissed sharply, like a blade being quenched.
If it had been Superman, that hit would probably have left him seriously injured. But Superboy-Prime had a stronger foundation. These were merely superficial wounds.
Bursting out of the sea, he flew with both fists raised above his head and returned to Washington in a rage. But he had no foolproof plan that could wipe out the enemy in an instant. When it came to fighting, he relied entirely on raw courage and fury.
The fake Supermen had not left either. They seemed to be waiting above the ruins for his return.
The battle began again. Everything happened so quickly that it was as though the fight had never stopped. If there had been ordinary bystanders, they probably would have seen only invisible things destroying the city.
Little Superman had plenty of strength left, but the enemies began using dirty tactics. Some grabbed his arms, while others swarmed over to seize his legs. Even though he killed the first few on the spot, there were simply too many enemies. They piled on and pinned down