Faora's eyelids twitched twice more, and she finally regained consciousness from her coma.
Although her vision was still somewhat blurry, her warrior instincts, ingrained in her bones, made her begin to observe the situation the moment she awoke.
I'm still alive? How lucky I am!
The next second, in her focused gaze, the Krypton traitor wearing a blue and red cape was standing two steps away with his back to her!
Without any hesitation, Faora instantly exerted force in her waist and abdomen. In her mind, she would suddenly spring up like a fully drawn bow, and then, with lightning speed, deliver a sharp chop to Clark's unsuspecting throat.
Click.
The expected deadly move did not materialize.
Her plan failed completely, from the very first step.
She had just arched her body from the ground, attempting a catapult launch, when the difficult movement drained all her strength, leaving her only able to wriggle a few times on the ground.
Faora groaned in pain, gasping for breath, her originally pale cheeks quickly flushing an unnatural crimson.
"What the hell? Kal-El! What have you done to me! Where is my power?!"
Hearing the slight noise behind him, Clark turned around, saw what was happening, strode over to Faora, knelt down, and placed his hand on her still trembling shoulders.
"I advise you not to move around too much; your body can't withstand high-intensity exertion right now."
Faora was furious! She had never felt so incredibly weak in her life! Damn it! Even a small pebble on the ground made her gasp!
For a moment, the arrogant Krypton lieutenant even forgot to launch another attack, staring in disbelief at his trembling hands.
"Why? No, this is a dream!"
"Um, I know it's hard for you to accept, but your situation is very bad right now, it's best not to move around too much."
Clark sighed, and in a gentle tone almost like that of someone advising a terminally ill patient, he patiently explained the harsh reality.
"Your superpowers have been confiscated. You're not much physically fitter than those college freshmen on Earth. Forcing yourself to do difficult moves like this will only damage your ligaments and joints. Face reality."
A flicker of panic crossed Faora's eyes as she tried to break free from the large, calloused hand, only to find that she couldn't even budge a single finger.
Just as Clark was trying to continue calming his troublesome kin, a Batman -like voice came from behind, interrupting the somewhat awkward conversation.
"Recognizing reality is only one aspect," Bruce, still sitting on the greasy plastic stool with his arms crossed. "The key is that they pay the price for the enormous disaster they caused. This isn't something you can just brush off with a few words of your native tongue."
His gaze calmly swept over the few dusty, Krypton soldiers on the ground, before finally settling on Clark, and he decisively made his first proposal.
"Since we are going to establish a brand new, normalized defense alliance, why not use these few incapacitated alien invaders as the topic for the alliance's first joint vote?"
This suggestion instantly transformed the somewhat casual atmosphere, made even more casual by the barbecue fumes and Barry's greasy mouth, into a more formal meeting.
Clark straightened up, pondered for a moment, looked at his fellow tribesmen who were struggling to even stand, and offered his solution first.
"Their physical condition is now about the same as the average person's. There are many large abandoned farms in Kansas. Maybe they could go there to grow corn and do some long-term manual labor to gradually make amends for their mistakes?"
"Um, isn't farming a bit too leisurely?"
Barry, holding a half-eaten kebab, came over, wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then raised his hand to suggest, "These guys have wrecked Metropolis, hundreds and thousands of buildings are ruins, right? I think they should go to jail. If they're in jail now, they can't possibly fight their way out, can they?"
A punishment scheme very characteristic of Barry.
Diana put down her beer glass, looking at the two men with displeasure, expressing her disagreement with their overly mild suggestions.
" The Amazon don't have such weak rules. As the defeated ones who started the war, they must wash away their shame with blood."
She pointed her finger at Faora, delivering a more Amazon verdict.
" Paradise Island is home to many untamed beasts. We can strip them of their warrior status and send them to the arena to serve as the most basic gladiators. Only through constant life-or-death struggles can they understand the preciousness of life."
"Come on, beautiful lady, gladiator arenas are so outdated," Hal, twirling the Power Ring on his right index finger and shaking his head in disapproval. "I think I should take them to the Green Lantern Corps for trial! On a cosmic level, the Green Lantern Corps are the real professionals!"
Bruce remained seated on the periphery, silently recording the behavioral logic and moral standards of punishment exhibited by these Superman.
Each of these options has its advantages and disadvantages, but he only used them as a reference.
Since Chen Mo didn't speak, just listening to the previous proposals was enough.
After Clark and the others finished presenting their reasons, they looked at each other and realized that no one could completely convince anyone else, and they still couldn't reach a conclusion that could be made.
So these newly formed rookie heroes turned around in perfect unison and all turned their gazes toward Chen Mo was still picking his teeth with a bamboo skewer.
Chen Mo noticed the expectant and questioning gazes, put down the bamboo skewer in his hand speechlessly, and rolled his eyes.
"Why are you all looking at me? Do we even need to vote on this kind of trivial matter?"
Chen Mo grinned and pointed to a few Krypton People not far from the street corner.
"Let's be straightforward and just chop off their heads, line them up, and play them out as slides on the moon continuously. Not only will that be easier to solve, but it will also serve as a warning to those alien bumpkins who dare to visit Earth, letting them know what Earth's methods are."
An eerie silence fell over the entire place, as if someone had pressed a mute button. Even the barbecue shop owner, who was diligently flipping the skewers, froze and stopped what he was doing, not daring to breathe.
Several seconds passed before Clark finally managed to come to his senses. He coughed awkwardly, scratched his numb scalp, and quickly turned to the others around him for help.
"After this round of discussion, I actually think Barry's suggestion was perfect; let them go to jail."
Clark abruptly changed the subject, and in doing so, made his position clear with the most decisive statement, kicking Chen Mo's terrible and extreme physical execution proposal off the shortlist without hesitation.
Barry immediately nodded frantically, as if pounding garlic, and a spark even appeared in his eyes.
"Yes, let them go to jail, that's definitely a good idea!"
Bruce watched as these superheroes quickly abandoned their disagreements and reached a strategic consensus, and the frown hidden under his mask finally eased slightly.
Although this process of forcibly skipping the voting on key issues is absurd, the basic operating logic of this defense alliance has been established in any case.
"Speaking of which, what should we call ourselves?"