- Supergirl is frisked at the door of the Legion's Headquarters. One cop wonders his partner what they would have done if it had been Satan Girl.One of the Policemen said to the cop with the scanner, "Sir, what would we have done if it hadn't been Supergirl?"
The scanner-cop replied, "I would have pushed this button here, set off an alarm in Legion headquarters, and prayed some of us were still alive by the time those kids got out here. That answer your question, Tyrril?"
"Affirmative, sir," he replied.
- Satan Girl reminds us she's a monster every time she opens her mouth:Kryptonians could survive in space without a suit. Was that not a pleasure? It certainly was. She could live her life between the stars, and never once need to breathe.
She could devastate planets, wipe them clean of life. Rebuild them at her whim.
She could tyrannize worlds, whole systems of planets, make them bow to her mighty hand, instantly execute anyone who dared protest—or just anybody she wanted to kill.
She could explore pleasures of the body that Kara never would have dared to, satisfy lusts that the blonde beast never even knew she had. She could force herself upon any suitor, male or female or whatever, and destroy them after their job was done. Or perhaps just maim them, so that they could never again do such a job for anyone else. Satan Girl smiled. Now that was being imaginative...
She could have children from those couplings, or kill them in the womb.
She could become a goddess to an unsophisticated planet's people. Drinking in their worship, demanding sacrifice.
All of this she could do, she would do, and more.
For Kryptonians and Daxamites were gods, off their homeworlds. They really were. What a pity their morality forced them not to realize that fact.
She clasped her bent knees to her chest and thought. The problem was, in this time, she was hardly unique. Billions of Kryptonians existed on Rokyn. Billions more Daxamites, with the same power, existed on Daxam. Luckily, there was only one prisoner still left in the Phantom Zone, that old poop Gazor, so there wasn't much competition there.
But, somehow, she'd have to do something about both planets. Daxam would be easy. A shower of leaden hail across its surface, and the dead would litter the ground in heaps beyond Hitler's and Stalin's dreams.
That world would stink of corpses for eons to come.
She laughed soundlessly.
- Desaad's mental torture of Pariah:Pariah could not rise from his chair, held as he was by a stasis beam that paralyzed his lower body. Whatever he faced, he could not get up and walk away from it. Perhaps it would not have helped.
Desaad had clamped a helmet over his head. It transmitted images from his brain to a receiver, which the master torturer of Apokolips manipulated like an orchestra conductor. He picked and choosed among the scenes of Pariah's life, helped along by a gauge which glowed more redly when it registered a pattern of fear in a certain remembrance.
The images were recorded and stored in the device's memory bank. Then Desaad began to fiddle with them, for he was an artist, and artists always reshape reality to their best intent. Some of the images were made more subtly frightening. Others were enlarged so as to knock down the viewer's mind with fear coming at him like a diesel train.
When he was ready, Desaad touched a control on the machine. "Tell me," he said, "what do you think of this?"
The images transmitted back to Pariah's covered eyes depicted the Great Experiment.
He saw Daneeta, coming into the lab, but much more slowly. The fear in her eyes was much more pronounced than it had been before. Around her, subtle things played, just out of the focus of his conscious mind. Sounds were heard, such as Pariah would never have preferred to hear in his too-long lifetime. She stepped into the laboratory slowly, and with every step, something happened to her body. It distorted, began to burn. Slowly. So that he could see every layer of skin being vaporized, all the organs beneath pulsating and bleeding and...
And she was looking at him. And saying something. And pleading with her eyes, her eyes which were still intact though her body burned and burned and burned.
"OH, GODS!" screamed Pariah. "TAKE IT AWAY!"
But it would not go away. Not even when he closed his eyes and sobbed.
Daneeta took a very long time to die. When she did, she was replaced by the faces of some of his relatives, his colleagues, his old teachers, all of them dying in precisely the same way, all of them accusing him with their eyes full of terror. The eyes which were the last things to be consumed.
Then there was the Great Hand again. The Great Hand which was altered, somehow... made more clawlike, more threatening.
And it was reaching out...
Pariah had been screaming for some time. He didn't know he could reach a higher pitch at that time, having given about as much effort as he could to the task. But he managed it, howling like a trapped animal, tears coursing down his face, sweat staining his clothes from armpits to waistband, his bowels beginning to move of their own accord.
He heard laughter. This he did not think was a simulation.
Before he passed out, he heard someone say, "I think we're getting results now."
The nightmares he had after fainting were not as bad as the ones he had waking.
Nightmare Fuel / Hellsister Trilogy