The first thing they saw was Superboy-Prime returning. He held a Kryptonian escape pod aloft with both hands, diving through the air at high speed as if he were carrying a boulder.
Behind him came a densely packed army, filled with every kind of monster. Their amorphous bodies kept changing even as they flew.
Looking up from the cornfield below, they had been a black speck in the sky one second, then a dark mass the next. At this speed, they might reach everyone in mere seconds.
"Strange. With Superboy-Prime's temperament, shouldn't he destroy any enemies he encounters outright?"
The bald man raised one eyebrow. His fingers slowly rubbed together, then abruptly stopped as he smiled.
"I see. So physical attacks are ineffective against them? Constantine actually withheld that information. What a bastard who loves setting people up."
Since they had long expected Constantine to be unreliable, it was hardly surprising that the information he provided was incomplete—or deliberately concealed.
And even if they had truly been set up, Luthor was not the least bit panicked. Raven was in the team, after all. Compared with trash like Constantine, Trigon's daughter should be much better at spellcasting, shouldn't she?
Besides, there was also a Fifth-Dimensional Being in the group. That gnome-like fellow would surely be willing to do anything to save Superman, right?
"Maybe he simply forgot." The item Damian took from his belt pouch was a somewhat old-looking suitcase, its brown leather already mottled with wear. "John Constantine drank too much. What his brain can actually remember is anyone's guess."
"Heh, that's possible too." The bald man crooked his lips in a smile. He had always looked down on people like Constantine. "So, kid, Superboy-Prime is about to land. Do you already have a way to deal with the pursuers?"