We're going to figure out how to do this. But, for now... I have to write and you have to save everything you can get your hands on. Okay?
Every one of us has the capacity to do the worst things imaginable. And sometimes we do. But the astounding thing is how often we humans do the very opposite. I don't know where Superman is. But he better get his butt back home. Because he needs to see this.
Every day a new confession from a new hero comes in. All from this "Puddler." Eventually, if I do nothing, they'll go to someone else, someone who will do everything. And, Clark, this is news.
I need you to consider this, Clark -- maybe, just maybe, sometimes... I'm trying to protect you.
You're looking for the wrong man. You're looking for Superman... I need to find Clark Kent.
Hey. You make the choices you make because you believe in them. They might not make sense. They might end you early, but they're yours. Hell, I can relate. But believe me when I tell you... you're not going anywhere just yet. And I'm not going anywhere either.
What the hell? That creature's right in Superman's path! And Superman isn't even fighting! It's almost as if-- Superman can't see him!
It's been one thing after another. Every time we expect things to go back to normal...we're rudely reminded there's no such thing...because everywhere we turn...someone always seems to want the world to burn.
Kurt Lane was his name. He died trying to save others...and inspired my father, General Samuel Lane, to join the Marines and serve his country. Rest in peace, Uncle Kurt...you're in the company of heroes.
The last time I laid eyes on Deathstroke, he was lunging into battle, badly outnumbered. This is how Slade Wilson lives his life... delivering death. A flesh-and-blood grim reaper. And he won't stop... until that inevitable day of reckoning when the Terminator finally meets the same fate as his many victims.
Change is good, kiddo.
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