B: So if we were to fight, I think the comics have pretty much established that I would win.
S: How do you figure that?
B: Well, you know… Brains over brawn.
S: Dude, I can see atoms and DNA sequences. I can even memorise them and reproduce them, according to Grant Morrison. You think you’re smarter than me?
B: Well, yeah… But Frank Millar knows I could kick your ass.
S: How though? Like, literally how?
B: Well, like when we fought in Jeph Loeb’s ‘Hush’… I can just outsmart you. I can use tactics that you wouldn’t. I know your weaknesses and your flaws. Plus, you gave me that kryptonite ring to use on you.
S: Yeah, but dude… I can move faster than can see. I can literally just tear your head off before I’ve even finished this sentence.
S: I’m not going to.
B: Well, I KNOW you aren’t going to, so I don’t need to prepare for it. If I had a tiny suspicion that you were going to turn on me…
S: Tower of Babel?
B: Again, so not my fault. Anyway, if I had a tiny suspicion that you were going to turn on me, I would totally be prepared for anything.
S: Bruce… I’m a god damn alien, okay? I could pull you into the sky, tear off your head, cremate it with my heat vision, freeze your body with my ice breath, hurl it to the ground with my super strength and then super speed down to shatter your corpse with my steel fist; all before your human brain could even process a single cognitive thought.
B: … … I have my Krypt…
S: Kryptonite ring, yeah, I know, I know. It’s in your belt. It’s encased in lead to protect your feeble human body from the radiation, so I can tell with my X-Ray vision, you know, the fucking X-Ray vision that I have, that the pouch just above your left hip will be the one it’s in. Go on reach for it. It’s not like I could remove your entire arm the second I see one single muscular twitch in the tendons of your left hand.
B: Hmmm… So, uhh… How many supermodels have you fucked?
S: … … … … Prick.