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Description

The hand of defeat dangled a senseless Supergirl. Fingers with the weight of anchors had crushed her consciousness into oblivion.   The giant known as BFD released his hold on Supergirl's skull. Before she could fall, he grabbed her again, clenching her around the neck with a loose grip.   Strangling her to death was not his intention. He studied her for a moment.  He kept his other hand balled into a fist and trained on her.   These hero types were notorious for feigning defeat. Her blonde bangs gently floated as a light wind fluttered through her hair.   The heavy fabric of her cape billowed only so slightly.   Her arms hung limp at her sides. Convinced she was out cold, he let loose a sigh. He knew his victory marked a new beginning for him at Lex Corp.   He disliked playing the thuggish type. But Luthor had convinced to play that role so that he could gain a tactical advantage.   Supergirl had taken the bait and underestimated him.

"Yo, urban Grundy," she quipped at the outset of their combat.   BFD responded in kind, acting out his part. He roleplayed a mindless tank, his massive arms swinging with reckless abandon. Supergirl scoffed.   When she tried to slip behind him and pin his arms behind his back, he nailed her square in the chin with a massive flying elbow. He followed up with a series of brutal punches that rendered her incoherent in seconds.   His one-handed iron claw on her face, each finger putting unbelievable pressure on her head, left her unconscious almost instantly. She could have been a formidable opponent.    He was prepared for that.   She had not been prepared for him.

The proof of Luther's preaching was made manifest.   She had treated him with disdain and arrogance. The JLA would never have recruited him.   They wanted handsome heroes and pin-up perfect heroines. The few misfits in their ranks only confirmed their worship of classical beauty and their unbridled prejudice against those who deviated from that norm. Like others in his class, he had heard the lectures from those few eventually released from incarceration without cause,   He had seen the security cam footage of so-called heroes beating their opponents even after they had been incapacitated. Witnessing it firsthand through his encounter with Supergirl was not a pleasant confirmation. In fact, it made him sick to his stomach.
The next day Luthor read the debriefing reports.  Afterwards, he leaned back in his tall executive chair, his lips pursed in a taut smile.

* * *

Story and image, which were intended to be an improvement, are a rework of a version I did last year: .

Description

The hand of defeat dangled a senseless Supergirl. Fingers with the weight of anchors had crushed her consciousness into oblivion.   The giant known as BFD released his hold on Supergirl's skull. Before she could fall, he grabbed her again, clenching her around the neck with a loose grip.   Strangling her to death was not his intention. He studied her for a moment.  He kept his other hand balled into a fist and trained on her.   These hero types were notorious for feigning defeat. Her blonde bangs gently floated as a light wind fluttered through her hair.   The heavy fabric of her cape billowed only so slightly.   Her arms hung limp at her sides. Convinced she was out cold, he let loose a sigh. He knew his victory marked a new beginning for him at Lex Corp.   He disliked playing the thuggish type. But Luthor had convinced to play that role so that he could gain a tactical advantage.   Supergirl had taken the bait and underestimated him.

"Yo, urban Grundy," she quipped at the outset of their combat.   BFD responded in kind, acting out his part. He roleplayed a mindless tank, his massive arms swinging with reckless abandon. Supergirl scoffed.   When she tried to slip behind him and pin his arms behind his back, he nailed her square in the chin with a massive flying elbow. He followed up with a series of brutal punches that rendered her incoherent in seconds.   His one-handed iron claw on her face, each finger putting unbelievable pressure on her head, left her unconscious almost instantly. She could have been a formidable opponent.    He was prepared for that.   She had not been prepared for him.

The proof of Luther's preaching was made manifest.   She had treated him with disdain and arrogance. The JLA would never have recruited him.   They wanted handsome heroes and pin-up perfect heroines. The few misfits in their ranks only confirmed their worship of classical beauty and their unbridled prejudice against those who deviated from that norm. Like others in his class, he had heard the lectures from those few eventually released from incarceration without cause,   He had seen the security cam footage of so-called heroes beating their opponents even after they had been incapacitated. Witnessing it firsthand through his encounter with Supergirl was not a pleasant confirmation. In fact, it made him sick to his stomach.
The next day Luthor read the debriefing reports.  Afterwards, he leaned back in his tall executive chair, his lips pursed in a taut smile.

* * *

Story and image, which were intended to be an improvement, are a rework of a version I did last year: .