Rated R – Fight to the Submission
Setting: High above Earth, in low orbit—moonlight on metal, stars watching in silence.
Superman hovered in the void, cape billowing like prophecy. His eyes glowed red, jaw clenched. “Last time, you held back.”
Scipio blinked into view, calm, armored, silent.
“I won’t this time,” Clark said.
Scipio answered with a whisper: “Good.”
The collision cracked orbit.
They tore across the sky like living weapons—Superman’s punches moving continents, Scipio’s counterstrikes redirecting tectonics. They crashed into satellites, ripped across space, blinked through reality folds.
Superman landed a blow that cratered Scipio into a Martian moon.
Scipio rose—bleeding, smiling.
“You’re predictable.”
He snapped his fingers. The vector field flipped. Superman’s momentum collapsed inward—he staggered, caught off-guard. Scipio blinked to his flank and drove a high-density kinetic rod into his side, sending him tumbling into the asteroid belt.
Superman caught a mountain-sized rock mid-spin and hurled it.
Scipio froze it mid-flight—stripped its motion vectors, turned it into dust with a tap.
“Still fighting like a blunt instrument,” he muttered.
Superman blurred in, heat vision lancing toward Scipio’s eyes—Scipio turned, took it full on the face, his armor slagging. He grunted, flared telephysical regeneration, and countered with Psi Bolt to the soul.
Clark gasped. Mind shaking. The memories of every death he failed to prevent echoed in his head.
Scipio didn’t stop.
He wrapped vectors around Superman’s limbs—slowing, twisting, binding. The Kryptonian fought back with pure will, every muscle screaming, every cell igniting.
But Scipio was no longer testing him.
He broke Superman’s stance.
Broke his rhythm.
Broke his confidence.
And finally, he broke his spirit.
Pinned under a gravity field ten times a neutron star’s pull, gasping, bones creaking, Superman screamed.
Scipio knelt beside him. “You’re stronger. I’m sharper. And sharper always cuts deeper.”
Clark groaned, blood in his mouth. “What now?”
Scipio touched his chest—restoring air, easing pressure. “Now you rest. You’re not my enemy.”
He stood, eyes flaring with infinite light.
“You’re a warning.”
Scipio wins. Superman submits. Earth watches. The sky holds its breath.
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