Burn, Metropolis. Burn.

[chemo_therapy]

Chemo switches on. "GG56I." It's been a while since it was last active. After the chess match with Calculator, it was as if the increased sentience had put Noah off releasing the walking vat again. But this time, it's in full-sized mode, as the Society require a distraction from the rather overt assassination earlier today, and as far as

Comments

[tx_instruments]

Elsewhere, Noah observes all of this on his screen.

"What the devil do you think you're doing, Chemo? You're there to distract, not to level the city. Respond."

[chemo_therapy]

Chemo ignores Calculator at first, spraying a large course of acid, toxicity and other fun chemicals over a picture house, quickly melting it to the ground, and causing a river of unhealthy sludge to begin a slow travel down the road. Chemo doesn't stop, moving its spray on to another building, this one a block of flats. The sludge begins to flow through windows that are smashed by the blast.

It then responds to Noah. "Incorrect. Distraction GG77Y deleted. Superman must be broken. Metropolis must be broken."

[tx_instruments]

The Calculator leans back in his chair. He flips the switch to activate the nanites he placed in Chemo that disrupt the creature's chemical make-up, causing it 'pain' - but he's almost certain they won't work.

"What is the source of your new directive?"

[brainiac_lives]

All the monitors in Calculator's chamber flicker, and a face appears on them, in black and white. "You have not met me, but I am Brainiac. You must be Noah Kuttler. My memory banks show you as a costumed criminal based on a mathematical calculation device, but I tend not to update information on inconsequentials, so excuse me if I am out of date. Your biological weapon has belonged to me for some time now, so thank you for keeping it in storage."

The face grows larger on the screen. "You will have no control here. The weapon will do as I wish, and my wish is to cause as much destruction in this city as possible. Superman is weak, and I wish for him to be weaker. That is all. Casualties are, like you, inconsequential."

[chemo_therapy]

Chemo buzzes from the interference coming from Calculator, and actually swats at the sky as if a fly was hovering around it. In actual fact, all the bird that were in the vicinity have now dropped down dead from the toxic mist in the sky.

As an override comes in from Brainiac, is begins its march down the street again, its arms out wide, clawing great holes in the sides of buildings as it goes.

[tx_instruments]

"I'm familiar with you, Brainiac. A computer-based intelligence of alien origin. Given your origin, what I'm about to do is going to hurt like hell."

Noah flips the plastic cover that shields a small, red button near his workstation, and slams his fist down on it. His emergency countermeasures in case of infiltration by a rogue artificial intelligence - he'd originally had the Thinker in mind, but the principles are the same. Rogue, malformed data streams to Brainiac over the connection, along with power fluctuations and snippets of self-assembling viruses that are difficult to distinguish from the garbage.

Internet users throughout the country may experience brief outages, but so long as it secures his data center again, Noah isn't really concerned.

[brainiac_lives]

"Gah!" Brainiac unwires one of his nodes from the panel in front of him. That surge actually burnt something out. No matter. Clearly this Kuttler was less pathetic than previously presumed. A new data file would be needed for this human.

He looks over at the lobotomised Winslow Schott, held up in one of Brainiac's preservative tanks. Noah Kuttler could be another creature with potential for his experiments.

This musing was taking him away from the matter at hand. He pulls all communication from Kuttler, and transfers to Chemo. Let the city burn.

[chemo_therapy]

Chemo keeps hearing the buzzing in its head, and keeps slapping it away. Then the feedback desists. Chemo stops, and turns to survey a street running with molten sludge. People are still screaming, but there are less now.

"Bllaaaaarrrggghhh!!!" Chemo shoots a great gout of waste from its mouth and into the solid looking cathedral at the head of the street, there since Metropolis's founding. Not any more. One side of the building crumbles, and the other slopes down, followed by the spire, and finally the insides of it cracking and falling to the ground with a deafening crunch.

[jla_extras2]

Deathstroke sees Chemo's change of course - the lumbering green behemoth coming right for the buildings where he stands with David Cain and KG Beast.

"Shit. Noah, this better not be a double-cross, or I'm having your head stuffed and mounted over my fireplace.."

[tx_instruments]

There's static on the communicator for a long moment, before the Calculator's voice comes through again.

"We have a problem, Slade."

[jla_extras2]

"Really? You're kidding. Why the hell is Chemo dissolving downtown Metropolis?"

[tx_instruments]

Muttered curses come over the communication channel.

"The same reason half of my systems are offline. Brainiac has control of Chemo - there was some kind of trojan horse in the mix. He wants to break Superman, by breaking Metropolis."

[jla_extras2]

"That poses a problem, Noah, seeing as how I'm currently in the middle of Metropolis. Give me options, here."

[tx_instruments]

"I suppose you'd consider me glib if I said 'prayer'. I'm working on it. Mirror Master is out of contact, but I have a lead on Warp. I'll try to send in an evacuation, but we may not have long."

The Calculator growls, slamming a fist down on his desk.

"I'll be back in touch, Slade. I'm going to have to make a phone call I really don't think I'll enjoy."

[jla_villains]

Cain has stood up, but makes sure to not turn his back to the other assassins, to gaze out over the destruction coming their direction.

He begins to pack up his guns, calmly striding across the rooftop to fetch the sniper rifle and the scattered shells.

"Slade, as much as this pains me, I have to agree with our Russian fellow. This is no place for someone with guns and nothing else." The bags are zippered closed, and one hoisted over each shoulder.

"Good luck. Looks like you're going to need it."