"Leave them to me, Slade." Little Superman slowly exhaled heavily through his nostrils, his nose twitching slightly. "I'll use thirty percent of my real power next and send them to Hell."
"Calm down, Clark. Thirty percent of your strength would be enough to blow up the Earth. If there are too many casualties, the documentary will be in trouble." Earth-8 was not some diseased world; it had not reached the point where it needed to be completely destroyed.
It was like planning to remove a corn, then, because the first two attempts had not gotten it all out, losing your temper and amputating the customer below the neck.
"Is that so? Can't we just use compositing, or that AI face-swapping thing you mentioned? I think we could fix things afterward even if we destroy this place. I'll just find the World Forger and have him hammer out another Earth-8."
Little Superman still wanted to argue, because seeing Machine Head and Ultron being all lovey-dovey over there made him sick.
A shirtless man being so intimate with a fly-headed robot... they were probably "fucking machines."
"Rebuilding an empty Earth would be easy, but several billion souls would be a problem. If you send them all to Hell, I reckon Lucifer would fall in love with you." Deathstroke patiently explained the stakes, describing the most terrifying possibility.
If Little Superman killed several billion people with one punch, combined with all his previous achievements, he would probably rank first on the DC Universe's murder list. The darkness and sin staining his soul would likely drive the Satans mad with desire to claim it.
It was not just little girls who liked bad boys. Demons liked bad people too. Even Constantine's level of sin had been enough to make The First Fallen, that old