She's just getting off the bus in Metropolis, wearing the long dark wig and sunglasses. She's on the phone to her parents, telling them to get her son ready. "Ah liked you better as a blond," Deadshot says behind her, accompanied once more by the twangy guitar. She turns to face him. Now that we get a good look at him, he's sort of a letdown. He looks like he belongs in a salsa commercial where the punchline is "New York City?!" Speaking of commercials, let's take a break for them now, shall we?
Back from the break, Cat is still staring down the Salsa Kid. Bus passengers mill about, paying no mind to these costumed weirdos. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asks. "Funny thing about fate," he says, "you can't outrun it." Not if this show has anything to do with it. He sweeps open the front of his duster, showing her his holstered gun. She begs for her life, saying she has a young son. "He'll get over you," he says, advancing on her. "In three or four years, he won't remember your face." He blah-blahs for a while in his awful True Blood reject accent and his pasted-on beard. He ends by saying, "Everyone is replaceable." Cat says she used to think everyone could be saved. "But now I realize some people are just born dead." She makes a break for it, whacking him with a suitcase. She runs between rows of parked buses, shedding her wig as she goes. He walks slowly after her. Cat runs through a crowd of disembarking passengers and then, for some reason, keeps running until she gets to the empty works yard. She finds herself at a dead end. A wall looms over her, bearing the Suicide Squad's skull symbol. She stands in front of it, petrified. Across the yard, a sniper rifle is aimed at her. Deadshot activates a remote control device, which sets the gun to fire in eight seconds.
Clark super-zips onto the scene. No need to hurry, dude. You've still got seven seconds left! He punches Deadshot in the face, sending him flying backwards into a fence. Cat is still standing there in the crosshairs, as the timer ticks down. She's going to stand there for the whole eight seconds like an idiot, isn't she? The gun fires. She squinches her eyes shut. The bullet leaves the barrel in slow motion, spinning to show Clark's name etched on one side. Clark runs and gets ahead of it. The bullet hits his shoulder and bounces off, making a hilarious sound reminiscent of a spitty wad of tobacky hitting a spittoon. He catches the smushed bullet in midair and then carefully places it in the center of Cat's bulletproof vest as he eases her to the ground. Cat slowly opens her eyes, surprised to see Clark. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I'm fine, thanks to my bulletproof vest," she says. She chirpily says she doesn't need a masked hero to save her. "I've got a real flesh-and-blood one right here," she says, giving Clark a rosy-cheeked smile. He looks bashful. She goes on: "People need to see someone's heart to believe in them," she says. "We need to be inspired people who stand out in the light, not people who shrink into the shadows." "We need a good ol' American hero, in red, white and blue," she says, then looks at Clark's outfit. "Or at least read and blue." As Clark thinks about this for a while, the focus shifts to the bullet hole in the shoulder of his jacket. Some blue glowing strands move over the skin where the wound would have been. The strands coalesce into the skull symbol and then disappear beneath the skin.