Honestly, there had to be a way to frame this shot so you could see the half of Deathstroke's face that's actually kind of interesting. I can't say I've ever seen so much as a panel of the Terminator in profile from that side before.
Of course, who'd be looking at Deathstroke when you've got Hal Jordan doubled over on the ground, looking like he's just been on the receiving end of a truly legendary shot to the groin?
Deathstroke's target is a guy named Predator (looks like they couldn't get the rights to use that name on the cover, hence the "CLAWS of TERROR!" arrow there. How weird is it that we got the Terminator fighting the Predator here? Not very? Okay, moving on), an evil alien parasite that hides inside Carol Ferris with Star Sapphire. They had enough free time on their hands that Predator knocked Sapphire up. Inside Carol's mind. Maybe there's a Super 8 in there, I don't know.
I'm not sure what was up with Carol Ferris that made her mind such an easy target for Green Lantern-villain Honeycomb Hideouts. It's one of those things that I feel like I should just smile and nod at, like when you go to an old folks home and somebody starts rattling off a tale of that time they met the queen. It's silly and rambling and ultimately meaningless, and so is any explanation you could offer for how two different parasitic alien entities could take up residence within the psyche of one random aeronautics company president. And that's not even counting the occasions where Carol got Eclipso'd. It's like a damn crack house in her noggin, with all the transients coming and going.
In the issue prior, Hal thinks to himself in the midst of an absurdly long series of thought balloons, "why does it seem like all the women I care about end up mentally damaged or possessed?" Meanwhile, in my kitchen, pots are calling kettles black and I'm telling them that hindsight's twenty-twenty.