Oh goody! Ed Benes is doing the art! You know what that means?! CHEESECAKE JIMMY OLSEN!
Who do the breasts belong to? Who the fuck cares! They aren't Superman's or Lois's or Jimmy Olsen's! Hell, they're not even Perry White's! It's just some woman hanging out with some man on Honeymoon Island which--and I'm quoting the fuck out of that genius writer Scott Lobdell now--"some people insist is one of the most beautiful beaches in the world." He probably meant most beautiful islands but why quibble about that when there's going to be so much more to complain about later!
I'm sure we're not going to need to know anything about these two people because they're probably about to be killed by Doomsday.
This is the best part of the first four pages. When Lobdell uses "choses" instead of "chooses." He also doesn't know the difference between The Arctic and Antarctica, and thinks that a century is 1000 years.
Sam Lane is visiting Smallville because all of its residents have fallen into comas. And that means Superman has to make an appearance too! And how does Scott Lobdell introduce him?! You guessed it! Mid-comic Lobdelled opening!
So Superman thinks an assault on Smallville is a compliment to the Man of Steel?
Superman investigates and discovers The Eradicator who challenges him to a game of Squash. If Superman defeats him, he'll get to unmask him! But Superman probably won't defeat him because The Eradicator is made up entirely of Kryptonite. Which Superman fails to notice somehow before flying right up to him and losing all of his powers.
The Eradicator turns out to be a completely apathetic piece of shit. He's been sitting around in a silo just waiting to tell Superman that Earth will be destroyed by Superman. How does he know that? Fuck you! He just knows! He throws Superman into space and then exits stage left.
Meanwhile, Lois Lane is still psychic.
Even when you think Scott Lobdell is writing the worst shit he can possibly write, he goes and writes even worse shit. Bloody shit. Shit with bits of cancerous flesh clinging to it.
Cat contacts Clark about their website because she'd hate to rebrand it after how popular it became due to one big story that just fell in their laps. You know what would have been better than worrying about rebranding a shitty site that will never be visited again? Selling it for thirteen million dollars, you dumb journalist. Journalist is one of the worst words I can think to call a person. Perhaps only Local Newscaster is more insulting.
And then Cyborg reports to Superman that he may have found a lead on Doomsday.
Actually, there are other and, more importantly, more accurate ways to say it. Destroyed. Obliterated. Demolished.