View source for 2012-02-27 - Beyond Venutian Skies

{{Logsummary|
Title=Beyond Venutian Skies
|Summary=An anomaly out in space attracts a diverse set of attentions to the Kryptonian supercomputer known as The Eradicator. Supergirl and Booster Gold might protest but naturally, it's all a ploy by Superman to lure his destined mate to the most romantic spot in the Milky Way. It's a beautiful night for a wedding.
|Who=[[Maxima|Maxima, Empress of Almerac]], [[Booster Gold|Missile of Love]], [[The Eradicator|Pretend Superman]], [[Supergirl|Superdaughter]], [[Superman|Superman, Emperor of Almerac]]
|Date=2012-02-27
|Where=SPACE
|}}


The core of the sun is incredible. Truly cosmic levels of energy, of raw heat. It's not a place that the being that eyes it now would wish to be, even in his shiny new Kryptonian form. It started with the Fortress' own arrays, the reserves of power within the Antarctic, alien refuge. It continued out here, with no need to breathe, or feed, the being of pure energy given material form simply floats with his thoughts, all but imperceptible for their inhumanity. Not just an alien Kryptonian mind; a computer.

The Eradicator can predict the temperature of the sun within a millionth fraction of a degree, it's how he knows to stay well away. Unfathomably away, really, by human reckoning - distances in space are vast. It's what still keeps him, effectively, somewhat local to Sol; a bit past Venus, for the curious. His position is an orbit of its own, altering to intersect the sun's direct light at all times, an all but imperceptible eclipse between it and the Earth. All but indetectable, save if one is looking in the right sector of space. 

... but who would do that?


Supergirl's calculations that led her to this point in outer space are far less precise and far more intuitive -- though she's startlingly intelligent, a fact many are prone to forget, preferring to focus on her blond hair or miniskirt.

But no, she comes here when she wants to contemplate deeply "because it's the warmest spot," which is technically untrue in at least twenty different ways she can think of, but is perfectly true when it comes to her comfort. The cosmic rays are particularly nice here, and the sunspots are spectacular to observe.

As she drifts by, arms hooked behind her head, she floats alongside... "Clark?!" The question is more startled-sleepy than actually alarmed, but nonetheless.


Slung forbiddingly in orbit about the tender husk of Earth, Almerac's royal flagship is a sleek masterpiece straight out of a pulp sci-fi. Bristling with state-of-the-art weapons and lit by glowing fluorescent lights that scream 'I WANT YOU TO KNOW I'M RIGHT THE HELL HERE', Maxima's carriage is about as subtle as a thousand-kiloton hammer to the heart of the sun. This is precisely how she likes it. She also likes it warm and bubbly, which is why at this precise moment her long limbs are draped over the sides of an overflowing tub, packed out with sizzling bath salts. A duck bobs idly in the water between her spread thighs.

No, no. It's not a RUBBER duck. It's an actual duck. It even goes 'quack' every now and then.

The Empress of Almerac is studying the amphibious bird with a lazily critical eye when a bank of sensors - mounted on the shiny metal wall of her personal bathing chamber (every battleship should have one) - begins to blink steadily and emit an hypnotic *whoooop-whooooop*. Unhurried, the ravishing space-bitch leans her head back and yawns widely before flicking a hand imperiously. Nobody can see her; it just makes her happy.

The effect is slightly ruined as a handful of frothy bubbles goes spurting across the room.

"Yes, Sazu?" She drawls, reaching out with HER VERY MIND to active communication with the bridge.

"You asked me to report if I detected any... 'anomalous signals', Lady Maxima."

"No, Sazu. I asked you to report if you detected my beautiful betrothed approaching!"

"Well-- yes, I suppose you did."

Maxima rolls her eyes. "So don't BOTHER ME unless you find SUPERMAN."

On the bridge, the Royal Advisor smiles slyly, "...about that, mistress..."

Approximately one and six sevenths of an Earth minute later, the glorious Lady Maxima is clad in a profoundly revealing, voluminous robe of finest spacesilk as she powers her way through the upper atmosphere toward the signal. She's making pretty incredible time but-- well, even for someone as amazing as she, simply flying beyond Venus? Little bit boring. Takes too long. If her husband-to-be is to be kept waiting, that JUST WON'T DO. Which is why she grinds to a sudden halt, arms folded across her chest. "Don't wait up, Sazu," she intones, lips pouting an instant before she suddenly flickers into a rainbow smear of molecules. If she was flying fast before... well, no mere human could see how fast she moves now.

Another one point-two-eight-four Jispexian weeks later (this isn't very long in Earth time) she appears with a splendid flash, arms spread and head flung majestically back approximately seventeen kono-clicks (that's so a thing) from what she assumes to be her very sexy, very ready and available hunk of man.

"Behold, my love! I have come! Let us BE WED and MAKE FABULOUSLY POWERFUL BABIES right here, RIGHT NOW!"

Yes, she can shout in space. Fear.


For some, space is a respite, silent and beautiful. For others, it's where you get sent when you get caught racing the zero-G forklifts in the Watchtower's loading bay. This is not to say that Booster Gold is exiled to space; he was just sent out here to pick up space trash. It is important work, as floating debris can wreak havoc on the hulls of space-going vessels. At least, this is what Booster keeps telling himself, because who wants to dwell on the fact that they've been placed on trash duty?

Booster does not pick up any indication of the Eradicator's existence. He does, however, see the streak that is Maxima as she zooms by. "Skeets, was that something dangerous? I bet it was dangerous. I should probably look into it!"

"Sir, may I remind you that you are currently working off your probation?" Booster's golden valet droid, floating nearby, broaches this as politely as possible.

"Yeah, but it's boring. Also, if it's dangerous and I deal with it, it's gotta be better than..." Booster gestures at the bag of broken satellite parts he is holding in one hand. "It won't hurt to -look-."

"... it probably will."


Clark? The question would only possibly carry to the nearby figure by virtue of super-hearing, and he does indeed turn in space to regard Supergirl, eyes hidden behind dark, blue-black visorlike shades. He could be Kal-El. Is nearly the spitting image. His hair is cropped short, a military-appropriate buzz, however. While Superman ages gracefully, this one is still notably younger, just entering his prime, shoving that Maxima-coveted physique into a different costume. Darker, no visible 'S' shield, just a similar, Kryptonian-etched gold shield clasping his trademark flowing red cape.

The Eradicator comes about to regard Kara, but does not immediately address her, or her presumably rhetorical shock.

This could be partially due to the arrival of a robe-clad, sex-crazed space hussy. The militarized Superweapon shifts attention once more, now regarding the Empress of Almerac over Kal-El's comrade. It seems to take even the unfathomably advanced AI a moment to fathom what Maxima is even /talking/ about, or maybe just formulating any kind of rational reply to the single-minded spacemaiden. "Negative. Procreation and habitation are not preeminent. Do not interfere." The voice is similar to Clark's. Deep, intense, projected, commanding. In this case, though, it's also utterly cold. He turns his back on Maxima immediately, returning attention to the flaring corona of the sun.


As the Eradicator turns to face her, Kara shrinks back. She's had enough bad experiences with brainwashed and crazy Supermen to be immediately wary. "No... who /are/ you?" 

She's spent tons of time in the Fortress over the years, helping Clark with various projects and even pursuing a few of her own, but she can't really be expected to anticipate the computer going off on a tangent.

Or, considering Brainiac, maybe she can.

Then Maxima shows up and Supergirl just boggles even harder, her completely dumbstruck expression eventually leaking away into horrified laughter. This is not the Superfamily's best day ever, that's for sure.


Most women would be rather put out by the response derived by their throwing themselves across space - and at that speed, possibly time - to drape the sexy sex all over a sunbathing specimen of masculinity. It's like she's found the only gay beach in space, if space had beaches and gay people. Of course, it doesn't; though it probably has a number of gay aliens. Still, the sun IS delightfully warm and there's no sand to get lodged in unfortunate cracks and sandwiches. Er, space-sandwiches.

Waffling aside; Maxima is single-minded IN-deed, and doesn't bother to acknowledge the presence of a top-league superheroine and whatever Booster Gold is - whether or not she actually glimpses them in the fringe of a glaze-eyed gaze that finally settles upon her quarry to take in every rippling ounce of his glory. He's exactly what she expected from looking at his publicity shots, and her mouth turns up into a delighted smile.

Then... there's no way around it; she pretty much just out and out /growls/, a basso rumble that begins behind her bountiful chest only to twist and curl like a lascivious, lustful tapeworm all the way down into her gut and-- lower. We should probably skirt around that part. It's pretty disturbing.

"Oh, but I love it when you talk dirty. Sazu didn't tell me about /that/ part. Why don't we send your daughter away," apparently she did notice Kara - though she's already blurring past her as she telekinetically thunders through the vacuum to now quite literally drape herself over the Eradicator, a thigh creeping around one side of his body as one hand goes for his chest and the other for his cropped hair. It happens in an instant; but doesn't everything, with these people? Best not to answer that. "And skip straight to the CONSUMMATION."

Protip: shouting at point-blank range is not particularly sexy. Then again, neither is...

"W-Wait? You ALREADY have a DAUGHTER?"


"Oh wow." When Booster catches up, or at least gets close enough for his visor to amplify the scene going on near Venusian space, he laughs a little. "I was wrong, it's not dangerous at all. Just some half naked chick trying to get her freak on with uh. Huh." He squints slightly, as he continues his approach. "Wow, that guy looks totally familiar." Out of habit, he shades his eyes with his free hand, since the other one is clutching a bag full of space junk. "And Supergirl." He knows who she is, at least, so he gives her a vigorous wave of his arm. "Hey, Supergirl!"


The replicant Son of Krypton has been up here for some time. Somewhat alarming how quickly it becomes downright /busy/. Money on the trouble being somehow Maxima's fault. "No?" The being's attention is momentarily diverted by Supergirl. Then she makes more sense. "I am.. was.. the Eradicator." It's not a name that means a damn thing to anyone, though, except the Eradicator himself. Still, that is the technical answer to the question. The same 'Making more sense' thing? Yea, that doesn't apply to Maxima.

There's tension when she violates his personal space in an instant. It's only the lack of a clear and present sense of threat that keeps the response from being similarly instant. That, or another instance of sheer does_not_compute nonsensicality. Stern jaw clenches, and the dark-suited Superman replica comes about with force and speed to match his template, right hand aligned for Maxima's throat.

It's actually a remarkably humane start, gentle, as these things go. There's a moment to calculate Maxima's durability with a progressively harsher squeeze, and if he finds that measure, she'd be abruptly hucked clear into the broad expanse of space, albeit on a collision course clear of other heavenly bodies. "I said no." No means /no/!


Kara's laughter just gets harder at Maxima's consternation... tears flow from her eyes, turning into little saline spheres that freeze instantly. Someday, given the right set of collisions, perhaps one of them will become a comet. Or maybe they'll all just melt into the sun.

But she becomes instantly serious when 'the Eradicator' starts manhandling Maxima so roughly. "Hey! I'm not sure where you got your manners from, but you do /not/ handle people like that." Maxima only dubiously applies as 'people', really, but this is not a good way to make a first impression on the increasingly worried Supergirl. "Not unless they deserve it, and sexual harrassment doesn't have to be solved with violence."

No matter how satisfying it might be.

Booster Gold gets a slightly distracted return wave, as a sort of afterthought; at this point the faux Superman has the drastic majority of her attention. The piercing way she looks at him is far more than a merely visual scan. But she can spare a worried "Hi there..."


Gripped in a tender chokehold, Maxima looks quite the opposite of displeased, her eyes practically gleaming as they widen in a sort of heart-fluttering alarm that's quickly boiled into the simmering lusty stew. Teeth catch on her lower lip, tugging at the painted flesh as she stares hard past those oh-so-mysterious shades. She couldn't be any less worried if she tried; he can have that measure and MORE, it seems. At least she's not quite so deluded to believe the follow-up is just more violent flirtation, right?

...Right?

The Empress of Almerac gasps at being whipped about so rapidly, scarlet mane sweeping past her vision as she tries to keep those dilated pupils firmly riveted on her would-be lover. By the time she can realign she's already flying backwards through the cold vacuum, soaring so far and fast that she's a glint of flesh within the void by the time she puts on the telekinetic brakes. Palms out and back bowed, she breathes a whistling sigh and tosses her head, taking a moment to straighten and recover. "Sazu?" She asks tentatively, flitting a glance sidelong toward the tiny speck of Earth against the vast backdrop of stars.

"Yes, mistress?"

A wild and dangerous grin pulls at the Warrior Queen's lips.

"I've /found/ him, and he's /magnicifent/."

When the Lady Maxima stops shouting, it's so incredibly ON that entire solar systems tremble and quake. No surprise that she crosses space in a flash of voluminous intergalactic loveliness a beat later, tearing a path with her fist aimed directly for the copious pectoral muscles of OBVIOUSLY SUPERMAN, the grin remaining on her face all the while and a bright, girlish flush enveloping her cheeks besides. It's the kind of punch that ends wars; or more often, begins and ends them simultaneously, but she's more than positive he can take it. She's more than positive he'll like it just as hard as she would. After all - they're destined to be together!

"Oh, my love!" She crows, "In front of the children too! You have NO SHAME!"

That's a good thing, when you're a frustrated nymphomaniac who's sat the Almeracian throne for *time redacted*. Though, somewhere in the back of her mind, she's questioning Kara's laughter.


"Wow. That was so rude." Booster stops waving, as he is too busy boggling at the Eradicator's attack on Maxima. His expression is one of confusion, because there seems to be a fight going on. Or it may be flirtation. Or both. "Uh..." Grabbing Skeets with his free hand, he flies over to where Supergirl is hovering and says, "I think they're trying to... you know." He waves Skeets in a vague gesture that is meant to indicate something salacious is going on, but all it really does is elicit a few complaints from the robot. "I think it's probably -private-."


"She was not harmed." The Eradicator points out coolly to Kara, as if he were entirely certain she was a high-end alien superbeing monarch capable of enduring extreme trauma. Which, really? He very well may be. Regardless, Supergirl's complaints don't seem to dissuade the strange Kryptonian from being certain his course was the right and only solution. Particularly proven when it's not even extreme enough to dissuade his sudden psychotic swimfan. He's /just trying to charge his batteries/. 

Instead, anything further he might say as he considers Booster and Kara in a more alert posture, hovering there silhouetted against the flaring sun, difficult to focus on fully, is rapidly drowned out by the /thunderous/ re-entry of Lady Maxima the Shrewish. It's a shockwave that would have blown out windows all around them, back on Earth. It sends him hurtling, in the frictionless void. Luckily for him, perhaps unluckily for her, as mentioned... the Eradicator has been up here awhile. He doesn't have Superman's whole 'world of cardboard' fixation, either. He stops dead not far off, and doesn't even bother crossing the distance back to her in a flash, not immediately.

What /does/ cross the distance is a tremendous surge of solar plasma fired from a projecting fist, flaring white and gold and almost ungodly amounts of hot. The raw release is focused on Maxima, the yield not unlike heatvision on 'nuke them from orbit' level. Most lesser beings would be utterly vaporized. After all, look how hard she just hit him! Only one of them seems to be into this, notably. Though it's easy to mistake brutal counter-efficiency for enthusiasm. Of course, /now/ she might be harmed a bit.


"I guess not, Eradicator, but still..." Supergirl sounds distracted.

That's because Kara is having a furious internal debate about what to do with the Maxima Identity Crisis issue before her.

Angel-Kara, in a white and gold Supergirl outfit that does not look at all like Galatea, dammit, sits on one shoulder. "You simply must tell her the truth! For her own sake, and because if this guy gets mad enough he could probably really hurt her, or this fight they're having... it could hurt a lot more people! And because honesty is the best policy." Toward the end there, she started to look a little bit more like Clark, in a white and gold Supergirl outfit.

Devil-Kara, in a red and black number that Clark would kill her for wearing, never mind that she's twenty-one and he's not her dad, stops laughing her ass off exactly long enough to say, "You might as well let her harrass the imposter, spare the real thing the headache!" Then she goes back to her severe gigglefit.

Booster Gold derails her train of thought, and she shakes her head. "Yeah... no. I think only one of them wants it to be. Still, there are some pretty big forces being thrown around here, you might want to clear out..."

Though why she'd stay to chaperone Not-Clark is an open question, until he launches that plasma. "...NOW!" Then, faster than thought, she's interposed herself, fists crossed in front of her face, so that nobody else takes the heat. The flame, it stings and burns, but Kryptonian biokinetic sheaths are pretty tough and so is she. One immense punch at a time, she starts making her way up the beam towards its source. "STOP," punch, "RIGHT," her knuckles are starting to blister, "NOW, /LAST WARNING/!"


"Mmm," Maxima glances at her extended fist in the instant after meaty impact, drawing it slowly back toward her and then lifting her gaze as it nears her mouth. As soulful brown eyes linger, painted lips slip seductively around her leading knuckle, and she suckles upon it like-- well, you probably get the idea, and naturally she shows every sign of enjoying both the experience and the taste of RAW KRYPTONIAN MUSCLE assuredly gunked up all over her hand because that's obviously how it works. Punch, alien probe, same diff.

Let's be honest here. The Empress of Almerac could be called many things; but 'well-read' certainly isn't one of them, which is why she stops her disgusting display with a dull blink as the Eradicator's mighty arm is raised, looking upon the ensuing storm of plasma with surprise that quickly turns to sheer, total joy. She even makes a girlish *squee*, both fists clenching as she trembles with excitement and prepares herself for impact. It's the kind of moment that's really best left unexplained, but... well...

"YES! Fill my ROYAL WOMB with your MAGNIFICENT SEED!"

Thanks, Maxima. Thanks so much.

Her delight is short-lived, however, and her subsequent motions mercifully cut short as the stream of searing, burning, complete-opposite-to-sexy stream of unrelenting pain is met by the figure of SUPERDAUGHTER (that's so her name), drawing a raised eyebrow and a scowl from Maxima that couldn't be any more disgusted if she'd just made out with Guy Gardner or something. Almerac may be a center for genetic research, intent on creating the greatest possible superbeing from an infinite pool of material, but some things you just DO NOT DO. Impregnating your daughter is pretty bleeding high on that list, let her tell you.

Her horrified gaze slips to Booster Gold, and she shows no particular sign of only noticing him for the first time as she zaps over, arms folded about her chest as if she has just realized how completely exposed she is. Making it the first time ever that the Lady Maxima has shown any kind of inclination to hide her wondrous curves from the universe. "What... what is this?" She manages to croak out, staring at the shiny shiny man without any particular camaraderie; she's just desperate for an explanation! "I don't even..."

Yeah. They don't have memes in space.


"Or, you know, I could be wrong and he's into this at all," Booster remarks, half to himself. At this range, it is much clearer now that this is no ordinary flirt-battle. "Wait a sec..." his eyes narrow, and then he brings Skeets up as if he were a cellphone and says, "That guy kinda looks like -Superman-!"

"Yes, sir. That is a very perspicacious observation!" enthuses Skeets, because he has found that it is best to be encouraging whenever Booster manages to be perceptive, even if it takes him a while to get there.

There is something about Maxima's exclamations and presence, however, that cause Booster to clutch the bag of space debris in front of him, as if they were somehow a more potent forcefield than the one that is already surrounding him. "Uh. Well from what I can tell, you are hitting on the wrong dude, ma'am. Which is why he's not going for what you're selling. So to speak." It occurs to him that this might be a bad choice of words. "Not that you're selling yourself. Unless you are. I'm not going to judge."


There's a bit of puzzlement as Supergirl suddenly interjects herself, and the distant but admirable mimicry of the sun's own heat cuts out as swiftly as it began. "This woman has been informed I do not wish to procreate or cohabitate. She is a tyrant with no sense of boundries or restraint." Maybe he knows her better than anyone thinks? "There is no quarrel with you, In-Ze."

Indeed, the Eradicator does not make any further aggressive action towards Supergirl - she doesn't even need to hammer up the beam for long, for that matter. "Beware. This one brings only chaos." Maxima's made a hell of an impression, either through first time enthusiasm.. or her interstellar history. "I can quite simply stop her here." Yes, clearly the obvious solution is to batter the bejeezus out of the Queen of Almerac and send her home. Really, the Kryptonian replicant has a point, after a fashion.


"HE'S NOT SUPERMAN, HE'S A FAKE, AND I THINK HE ONLY HAS ONE SETTING -- ERADICATE!" hollars Supergirl, in the interests of clearing the air. Vacuum. Whatever. 

All that shouting makes her feel a little silly when she realizes that the Eradicator has cut the heat, and she begins to relax out of her lowered fighting stance. A little. 

"Well... from what I've seen, you bring only violence, and that's not much of a recommendation for someone claiming to judge chaotic tyrants," she replies rather more thoughtfully, folding her arms over her chest. Her cape billowing a little bit behind her, she drifts closer. Her eyes are a bit narrowed in that cross-spectrum viewing sort of way, rather than an aggressive way. "I see... you. /Please/ tell me you're not Brainiac," she asks, a little bit desperately.


It's hard to catch a minute of privacy when you can hear a pin drop on the other side of the world. It's even harder to have a minute of privacy when concussive blasts of force rip through the atmosphere, causing subtle but noticable shifts against an amazingly fine-tuned and sensitive eardrum. And where moments before there is only a Superman look-a-like hovering in the lower atmosphere of Earth, there is a blur of blue and red--

And suddenly, Superman is there. The real thing. Clad in his own familiar suit, red cape flapping behind him, his arms folded across his chest in a look of severe consternation. The Man of Steel looks over each of the assembled heroes (and Maxima) with a glare that would make even Bruce proud.

His voice has nothing on Maxima, for he doesn't enjoy bursting eardrums when he chooses to speak, but it is still strong, full of power, and of concern for his cousin in the face of the Eradicator, much less Maxima. "Who would like to tell me just exactly /what/ is going on here?"


Even a stunned and confused Maxima still follows certain patterns, obeys certain rules. Which is why it's a truly terrible idea for Booster Gold to tell her that she's wrong about something; let alone her choice of mate. His collection of incredibly valuable and desirable space junk goes staggeringly disregarded as the practically-nude woman goes straight for the throat - and by 'throat' we mean 'eardrums'. It's really quite amazing how she goes from 1 to 11 without even considering anything inbetween.

"MY BETROTHED is NOT the WRONG DUDE!" Her eyes cross a bit as she says that, her vast and powerful brain reminding her that she doesn't even know what a 'dude' is. Maybe she'll ask Sazu later. Shaking her head, she thrusts herself a little more uncomfortably close to the shiny shiny man with the golden pelvic region, "Who SHOULD I be HITTING ON?" One more for Sazu. "You? SUPERDAUGHTER? Do you even know whom you address? /I/ am the Lady Maxima, Warrior Queen, head of the Royal House, and LEADER of all Al... mer... ac...?"

She trails off, eyes narrowing to dangerous gleaming slits. No, literally, gleaming. That's probably not a good thing-- though any conclusion that she might have noticed the man from the nature just called her a space-hooker goes quickly banished for now as her stare sliiiides to Kara and the Eradicator; moreso the latter, though she does take a moment to feel horrible, horrible envy at the smoking nature of the former.

"/Tyrant/?" She echoes, the word grating from between clenched teeth as her eyes continue to glow brighter and brighter with the yet-fiercer reddening of her cheeks. "Chaos?" She's gone from 'schoolgirl flush' to either 'raging space-bitch' or 'raging space-HOOKER' at this point, it's sort of hard to be sure with the wispy gown billowing in the complete lack of space-wind. It becomes a tad clearer as she echoes the final and most biting of all the unforgivable insults against her august person. "Not... Superman?!!"

As soon as that word is out, her psionic aura breaches mere eye sockets to consume her entire person, a flaming whirling mass of energies capable of overcoming all but the most stalwart of minds. Lest we forget that 50% of her power comes from PULP SCI-FI, the Lady Maxima is also emitting an oscillating, repetitive humming sound in eargasming waves. There's probably some alien woman singing in the background. Which is about perfect; because, before she can act, birds suddenly appear. Wait, no that's not birds...

It's not a plane either... it... it's...

"Superman~!"

It's lilted out in the way that usually goes hand-in-hand with a swooning, suddenly useless woman. And this is the case, with one very important royal Almeracian twist; Maxima doesn't just swoon against nothing, she's gone in an instant from her former position and very suddenly, very definitely falling against the REAL Man of Steel, floating a little below him because she's so spectacularly tall, so that she can conveniently fall against his bursting pectorals, and get a good grope with her 'limp' hands while she's at it. It doesn't hurt to compare him to the fake version he surely planted to get her all riled up...

No harm, no foul! It certainly worked, as she gasps, all adoring eyes turned upward and lips parted with breathless wonder as the invisible non-existent space-winds pull at her scarlet bangs, "I knew you'd come for me!" This is what's going on, apparently. Isn't it great to be enlightened?


"Then do not heed my warning." The Eradicator suggests simply of Kara's protests, as if she were simply being foolish and trying his patience, though there's no hostility there. He doesn't seem angry about or with Maxima, even. Makes it a little more troubling if anything, though. "I am not Brainiac, though vulnerability to his capabilities is only one potential threat in this planet's future. As is..." The Kryptonian intelligence ceases, silenced by the arrival of its charge and template.

"Kal-El. I am the Eradicator. I have come to help you deal with the injustice and erosion that dooms this world." It's meant to be comforting, really. It's even sincere, just mechanical, lacking in emotion; soul perhaps. That, too, is what is going on. "This interstellar tyrant wishes to procreate and cohabitate." He reiterates, possibly due to some strange affinity for the unusual explanation. "Predictive matrices suggest you focus on other goals."

Even if the visored Kryptonian -does- look to the clingy, half-dressed Maxima, it's largely to utter, completely drily, "I am in fact 'the wrong dude'." Apparently, he's concluded she might be just slow enough to need the explanation.


"Guh!" Booster Gold ends up dropping his bag of collected space-debris, or at least, he lets go of it; it just floats. His super-suit augments his senses, and so Maxima's assault has him curling up a little and clutching his hands over his ears. "Well, excuse me, princess! Queen. Whatever." Snatching Skeets out of the space beside him, he flies backwards just in case Maxima decides to punch him. From what he's seen so far, she does this whether she likes you or hates you, so it's a lose-lose situation either way.

As much as he is concerned for his own well being, Booster cannot simply flee without offering -some- aid. He calls out to Superman, "Look out! She's trying to make babies! With YOU!"


And then a lot of things happen at once, followed by a lot of people speaking at once. After all that, further explanation from Supergirl feels unnecessary.

"Oh, I'm heeding, I'm heeding," she mutters to the Eradicator, "I just think you need to learn some restraint." She chins at Superman. "Watch how it's done." No pressure, Clark. Show the lady a good time. Or at least a less violent one than eye-nuking.


He can't help it! It's an instinct that's been ingrained in him ever since Ma and Pa Kent found Clark in a cornfield just out of Smallville. When there is a woman swooning and about to faint, Superman has to step in and catch her before she gets hurt. Ignore the fact that they're in space. Ignore the fact that Maxima is suddenly on him like white on rice and faster than Booster can even blink. (Don't you feel slow now, Booster?)

The Man of Steel's hands come up to catch Maxima handily as she falls against him, though his are most definately placed in FAR MORE APPRIORIATE places. The concern that suddenly turns to surprise on Superman's face should surprise no one except for Superman himself, especially as those around him weigh in an oh-so-delicately explain the situation to him.

Perhaps Superman's attention should really be for processing the Eradicator's first introduction to him. And yet, those are not the words that stick with him. Coupled by Booster Gold's strident warning and, really, Maxima's full lack of suitable clothing, it's perhaps no shock that Kal-El's attention revolves back once more to the redhead in his arms, even as she gropes him and he does his best to ignore that fact. She needs his help, right?

Sadly, Kal-El's attention to Maxima is most likely far less flattering than she would like, and he moves to disengage, pushing her away to an arm's length as he raises his eyebrows in mild shock, "I'm sorry. And you are?" Let's just conveniently forget about Diana's report filed a few days ago, shall we? Surely that will make Maxima feel all better.


So many explanations, so many helpful people! But there's only one actual, real Superman.

This makes it astonishingly easy for Maxima to know who she ought to be paying attention to, and she remains rapt as the words of lesser genetic specimens wash over her ears like the scattered motes of broken civilizations. A few of them do end up rattling inside her skull, though, and she's so drunk on love she can't help but echo them in steamy murmurs, "Procreative, yes. Cohabitate. Babies," she whimpers a bit at that one, then flicks her tongue against her upper lip, rolling her head back a little further to mouthe, "Restraint."

It would be a wonderfully seductive moment if he didn't ruin it by suddenly having her at arm's length, the robe-clad space amazon flailing briefly back toward his chest before he distracts her from entering an outright grapple by asking what is clearly a most HEINOUS and INSULTING question. How could he forget her? Didn't he receive the wedding plans she sent on that captured Earth probe. What was it, the Voyager something-or-other? Hmph. Clearly Earth probes do not travel so fast and directly as Almeracian ones!

"I--" Something holds her back from righteous fury, however, her mouth opening and closing before she settles for what she thinks is a very cute, wide-eyed pout. But a puppy-face really isn't that terribly convincing on a frightfully tall woman who just punched a Kryptonian supercomputer right in the chest and is emanating a crushing psychic aura. "I am your betrothed, of course! Let's leave your daughter and these other silly people behind and retire to your orbital battle-station? I've waited for DAYS! I have taken many baths in preparation for our ritual lovemaking, and await prepared to TAKE YOUR SEED and--" Oh dear, she's getting carried away again, posing dramatically, "CRUSH THE PEOPLE OF EARTH BENEATH OUR COMBINED HEEL!"

She breaks it off with a coquettish eye-flutter, "But I'll cook first, if you like~!"


Booster lets out a low whistle and murmurs to Skeets, "Clingy type." He rescues his bag of space debris, shoving a few stray bits of metal back into place. Although he was tense with alarm, before, now that Superman is here, Booster is relaxed. Superman can handle anything. The day is probably saved, or will be saved, although out in space the concept of 'day' becomes a lot more abstract. "Oh..." He gives a wave to Supergirl in a bid to get her attention, then brings his free hand up to the side of his head, thumb and pinky extended as he says, "Hey... is it okay if I call you?" Booster points at Supergirl, then, as he finishes his question.


"Yes, clearly my reaction was far in excess of this restrained and eminently positive situation." It's pretty much the Kryptonian intelligence's version of a burn, in response to Supergirl's dubious analysis. He doesn't seem particularly convinced this time, either. His interjection comes pretty perfectly timed as a quiet aside in between 'OUR COMBINED HEEL' and having dinner first. The visored Kryptonian looks between Booster, and Maxima, and Superman. The latter's focus is on.. helping the sex-crazed space amazon? Well, alright then.

The darker red of the Eradicator's cape floats weightless behind him as he maintains his own position nearer to Supergirl and Booster Gold than Superman and Maxima. It's about that time that Booster's query falls on ultra-alert ears, and inspires the Eradicator to study the hero from the future for a moment before noting, "I was not aware so many of you focused this fully on procreation." It's really the optimal aid to a pick-up, that observation. Spoken with calm dispassion save a note of... surprise?


Supergirl looks over the immense, heaving, tyrannical redhead. She tries to keep the evil grin off her face, but it leaks into her voice anyway.

"Yep, this looks like a job for Superman." 

She glances at the Eradicator and shrugs. "When you use your considerable capacity for violence to force people you don't like to do what you want, you're being a bad guy. The difference between that and us is bookkeeping, but it's important bookkeeping. Put your considerable intellect to that detail for a day or two and let me know what you come up with." 

She raises an innocent eyebrow at Booster Gold. "Why do you need to call me? I'm right here." Apparently, after all that, she's the only one in the room to /not/ think he's being seedy.


Superman's eyebrows lift in mild incredulousness at Maxima's words, his face clearly reflecting some measure of surprise at her sheer audacity. Despite the warnings about Maxima's sexual proclivities given to him moments before by his colleagues, the Man of Steel cannot help but remain a little wrong-footed at the rather strange attempt to seduce him.

And then, of course, she has to go and ruin the moment with the talk of tyranny and crushing people underneath her heel. Instantly, a frown appears on Superman's face, and his arms fold in front of his chest once more in clear disapproval for the Almeracian Queen. "I do not know what you have heard about me, but I'll have you know that we do not subjugate the people of this planet. Nor any other planet."

Supes /would/ glance over at his cousin and at Booster in solid disapproval-- don't they know there are better times to flirt? But Maxima remains his focus of attention, the Last Son of Krypton continuing to float formidably between the planet below and the newly come would-be Queen. "If your intent here is to rule this planet, then I'm afraid that I will have to ask you to leave right now."


"Wha... whoah!" Booster Gold looks genuinely startled at the Eradicator's comment. He holds up a hand, waving it a little as if to fend off this accusation. "I am -not- trying to procreate! I mean, that's the last thing I want to do. I was just..." He pauses, because the person he really needs to clarify this for is right there, as she just noted. So, he says to Supergirl, "I mean, I was asking if it'd be okay for me to call you so I could talk to you at a better time with regards to..." He thinks; what did people in this era usually do? "Seeing a movie. Or something like that." Raising his index finger, he then tells the Eradicator, "It's not all about... what you said." Then he points at Maxima and adds in a supercilious manner, "You should take note."


Well, that's disappointing. Blindsided again in mid-flirt, Maxima actually recoils somewhat this time - an action that causes her to drift several feet back in the vacuum, though she's too astonished to care or bother correcting this. "That," she points out with a frown, lifting a finger loosely toward the distant Earth and the Watchtower; unseen from this distance, "Is what your 'friend', Wonderful Woman, said. I didn't see what was so /Wonderful/ about her," her arms fold about her chest again, this with a childish huff.

Beneath the curling cascade of scarlet capping her royal crown, the Empress' brain is spinning cartwheels as it reaches desperately back toward the track of blind ignorance; where things are easy and none of this despondence and uncertainty has to get in the way of THE ULTIMATE GOAL. While she thinks, her eyes meet Superman's, brows slowly raising and mouth slowly restoring itself to a smile as she remembers all the private moments they've shared on her journey from Almerac. And during her time in the bathtub since! Well, 'shared'. She'll have to share /his/ side of them later, when they're alone. She's got a lot stored up!

That thought does it, and suddenly she's grinning and throwing herself at him again - this time stopping short to tease his surely-lusting body with a waggle of her hips and a youthful giggle, reaching to run a finger along the curve of his statuesque jaw, lingering on that /gorgeous/ chin.

"Very well," she purrs, "We don't have to call it subjugation. And don't misunderstand me, my love... I don't want to rule the pathetic backwater of Earth-fools! I just thought-- perhaps you would. I'm here to please you and only you, my delicious and destined mate. We can crush any world you please! Or simply... crush..." NOW she eases closer, attempting to pour her B-movie physique up against his, melting into him as hard and for as long as she possibly can, "Each other." Yes, Booster Gold, she probably should take note.

Which she does by lifting a hand to the side, an idle wave carrying with it a shockwave of psychic energy bound for the shiny man's interfering brain, a sort of psionic suckerpunch he probably won't see coming. She doesn't bother noticing if it works; she's BUSY just now.


"Of course." The Eradicator notes, possibly actually believing Booster Gold. "My mistake." It's an easy one to make, just now. So far, courtship had appeared to (d)evolve to a single step, so it's likely actually something of a relief. As far as Supergirl's admonishment, the visored Kryptonian doesn't seem quite as enlightened. "Stopping Maxima of Almerac has little to do with what I want. Her goals and power level demand a clear response and the establishment of non-negotiable boundaries." At any rate, she's at least not trying to grind herself on -him-, anymore.

"The abundance of injustice and selfishness in this world must be addressed." One might even say eradicated. There's a moment's pause, as something fails to track. The Eradicator can already see numerous ways for this to end horribly, so he has to ask, eyeing Superman and Maxima as he murmurs towards Kara, "Exactly which part of this is a job for Superman?"

He sounds downright perplexed.


"I think perhaps you misunderstood me," Superman says firmly to Maxima as she starts to talk once more of world crushing, his arms still folded quite solidly over his chest in a clear sign of disapproval. Maybe it's his way of warding off her eloquent and subtle (as a planet in the face) charms. "I have no desire to rule /any/ world, nor subjugate, nor crush. And I would oppose those that insisted upon doing so themselves."

For all of her flirting, Superman remains rather stoically unflappable, ignoring the finger that runs along his chin as his eyes meet hers. Even as the Empress of Almerac tries to squeeze closer, Superman drifts backwards enough to keep a reasonable gap of space between them-- the only time he moves is when Maxima lifts her arm and swings it out in Booster's direction.

Only then does the Man of Steel catch Maxima's wrist firmly, preventing the full swing of her hand, even though he can no more stop her psychic onslaught than Guy Gardner can stop talking about himself. There is a real flare of anger as he feels the weight of her psychic assault upon his teammate, and his grip tightens quite noticably as he speaks authoritatively, "/Enough/." Enough what, Supes?


"It is possible to respond and establish boundaries without extreme violence. At the very least, it is possible to try. You've gotta try, Radi, or else you're no better than the ones you're out to stop. Justice and selfishness aren't simple concepts, I'm afraid." Kara gazes steadily at 'Radi', wishing that she could communicate with him in a way more effectively than words. "And... I was being facetious. This," she gestures at Maxima, "is really a job for a good therapist." Or Batman. He could probably develop some sort of anti-pheromone that'd scare her off of Clark. 

But someone else demands her attention.

"Dude," Supergirl murmurs to Booster out of the corner of her mouth (because her eyes are still fixed on the Eradicator, Clark and Maxima having gone from amusing to gross-out in terms of quality of the show), though not so quietly that the other Kryptonians can't hear her, because then her actual intended recipient definitely wouldn't be able to, "I'm flattered, but between Nuke First, Question Later Superman -- sorry, Radi, but it's true -- and Hail The Conquering Nympho showing up today, now's really not the time."

She raises her voice. "Three out of three Kryptonians off Earth is at least one too many, I'm going back." Part of her is reluctant to leave Clark to the mercies of the Eradicator and Maxima, but... he can probably take care of himself. Besides, Radi's at least trying to be a good guy, he's not going to sucker punch Superman in the next two hours. Give it a week. "Later."

In a red, blue and gold blur, she's gone.


"Well, she didn't say n--AAAGH!" Booster is too focused on Supergirl's response to even notice the attack Maxima has flung his way; but the truth is, even if he had been alert to it, there would be no way for him to avoid it. Despite having an alpha-level force-field, it does nothing when it comes to psychic attacks. Once again he drops the bag of space detritus, which serenely floats away, as he clutches at his head. And that's it--he's knocked unconscious. If there were any gravity pulling him down, he would be plummeting even now. As it is, he just floats like another piece of space detritus.

"Sir?" Skeets lightly flies up to tap against the side of Booster's head, clacking against the forcefield.


"Huh?" Mouth forming a startled 'o' as her arm is seized and expertly, manfully controlled, the Empress of Almerac stares at Superman for a moment or two; expression whipping rapidly from confusion to indignant fury to... oh gods no... frantic arousal. Her eyes are afire as with a surge of incredible effort she /rips/ her hand away from her betrothed and uses the gathered momentum to keep on twisting, her opposite arm thundering forward in a full-powered blow to the jaw; in theory somewhat equal to the one she nailed the Eradicator with a few minutes before. But she's practically buzzing now - it makes her stronger, faster.

Any lesser man would probably be flung back hard enough to hit the surface of nearby Venus. For a fleeting instant she almost wishes that he were such a man; it would be so romantic! Their first date, and their first time together, spent destroying the surface of the Planet of Love. Alas-- she'll have to try a bit harder against the mighty Kryptonian, which is precisely why she's already reaching out with her mind, eyes burning.

Her target is once again, the poor Booster Gold.

Only this time, she means to use her enviable telekinetic strength to hurl him through space at the hopefully-stunned form of her betrothed. "NEVER ENOUGH!" She booms behind the hurtling unconscious form, "I give you this and MORE, Superman! NO AMOUNT OF TRIBUTE COULD EVER SUFFICE TO DESCRIBE MY UNENDING DEVOTION!"

So loud is the Lady Maxima now that, back in orbit around Earth, Sazu cringes and grips at her temples.

This is NOT going to end well.


The energy behind the psionic signature is noted once more - the way it distorts the wavelengths detectable by the replicated Kryptonian, the way it sends Booster Gold reeling. It's fairly obvious what the Eradicator's first instinct is, here; it's only Superman that forestalls execution of that mandate. The Big Blue seems to command his unknown counterpart's respect, at least. That doesn't mean that the bodyjacking AI is -about- to let Booster Gold become a missile of love. Which also just sounds -horrible-.

It's a flash of blue and black, a trail of blurring red afterimages as the Eradicator interjects himself between the Man of Steel and the flung Booster, absorbing his momentum with the precision of a computer in a careful, full stop. Then he carefully heaves, again with an inhuman and swift precision, sending Booster Gold drifting back towards the Watchtower, back towards Earth. He'll wake up or be intercepted sooner than he'll hit anything, one would expect.

"I reiterate, Kal-El, she is disturbed and dangerous and now expressing heightened levels of emotionality and inappropriate sexual arousal." Beat. Totally serious. "Anticipate approaching crisis point whether we act to eliminate the threat or not." In simpler terms: Eradicator is pretty sure she's going to hit him again if he doesn't change his attitudes about spaceborne insemenation.


Unfortunately for Superman, he wasn't actually around earlier in order to realize just how quickly Maxima engages her power seduction mode. Her violent moodswing does indeed catch him off-guard and send him rocketing backwards through space as Maxima's fist strikes the side of his face. Fortunately for the Man of Steel, he /does/ have the ability to withstand such a mighty strike and not fly all the way to Venus before being able to recover.

Even as the Eradicator moves in to prevent Booster Gold from becoming a gold and red mess, Superman rights himself back around again to orient himself on Maxima once more, a small scowl hitched onto his face as he calculates the best way to end this without any more injury to himself or those around him. "I see that," he replies to the Eradicator, though he does not give himself away, nor what his plans may be. There's even a glance over to Booster Gold, the Man of Steel quickly calculating his trajectory towards the Watchtower; no doubt that Skeets will be able to summon help for the unconscious hero.

"Alright," Kal El says, speaking primarily to Maxima, his voice perhaps more firm and less seduced than she could hope for. "If you want me, then you're just going to have to catch me." If it's a lure, then Superman is surely offering himself up as the bait in this case. In a blur of red and blue, Superman is off like a shot, heading back into deep space and heading away from Earth. If Maxima wants to catch him this evening, then she'll have to play a wicked game of hide and seek. At least long enough to take her well away from Earth and hopefully cool her ardour and lust long enough that he can return back Earthside without the redheaded Empress tagging along.


Eradicator's interference is met with a furious puffing of the cheeks and an outflung hand, index finger extended to dramatically highlight how unwarranted and unfair the PRETEND SUPERMAN's interference actually is, though it takes a second of angry staring before Maxima can find sufficient words. Long enough for him (it?) to get his (its?!) machinelike barbing out, which really doesn't help matters. She's hovering forward as she begins to speak, the rules of DRAMA and NARRATIVE all that save Eradicator from another terrible chest-crushing insta-punch from the half-naked intergalactic menace.

"The only POINT we're approaching is the POINT OF INSEMINATION!" Bellows Maxima, drawing back both hands as though she means to try and deliver a chop straight outta Space Mongolia, perhaps ending the Kryptonian artefact in one fell blow - at least in her dreams - that Space Andre the Giant would be proud of. Her hair streams behind her as she closes the remaining distance (about six space yards) in a flash, and then--

And then...

Superman does about the smartest thing anybody in the vicinity of Venus has done all night.

The Empress of Almerac practically gurgles with unrestrained glee at the suggestion, instantly forgetting her need to destructify his pet supercomputer and instead turning to face the retreating blur with her mouth wide in pure, not-quite-orgasmic-because-that's-the-entire-point-here pleasure. Her eyes dilated to a ridiculous extreme, she gathers her robe about her with ladylike determination, drawing a breath that inflates her mostly-visible bust to similarly ludicrous proportions, and then takes off without a word to the Eradicator.

"Sazu?"

That's said en route to the Earth, her eyes frantically searching for her betrothed.

"Yes, mistress?"

"Ensure my quarters are prepared and sufficient lubrication is at hand. Tonight, I'm getting married!"

"Lady Maxima, you /do/ understand that there's more to marriage than--"

"I WILL BE MARRIED, SAZU!" The future starts here.