Standing at a podium in Liebfeld Plaza, Metropolis, with his son to his left, his... woman.... to his right, and surrounded generally by hired bodyguards (all of decent repute, of course), Max Shreck cuts an imposing figure in the very expensive deep bottle green suit that he had made by Gambi tailors of Keystone.
"The City of Tomorrow!" He punches
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"So how was San Moritz? This is the first time I've seen you since you got back from your... Vacation. I see the plastic surgeon worked wonders on that cheekbone. I remember the one in the hospital here said your face may never be symmetrical again. Shows what Metropolis knows..." He peers through the tent flaps, and looks on approvingly at the hustle and bustle of citizens queueing for job opportunities.
"I swear, I did not know Suicide Slum, or whatever the fuck it's called, had so many people in it in need of jobs. Still, we always need people to clean the toilets."
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He turns to Chip. "You can leave us for a few minutes, Chip. I need to speak with Ms Reyes alone."
Once his son has left the tent, Max puts his hand on Catalina's neck, his fingers then holding her chin, before he gives her a light kiss on the lips. "This is a new dawn for us. We will marry, you'll be the toast of the town, and we'll reinvigorate this city. You and me. Together."
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"That was not Superman," barks Lois Lane as she brings her cellphone to her ear. "Chief? New front-page story coming, and I need a better photographer here. Find Jimmy, for Chrissakes...oh, and...um...maybe send police and ambulances too. Max Shreck's building just got flattened. Yeah, flattened. No, that was not Superman. Chief-- yeah, I gotta go."
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"All my money..." He stares at Catalina. It's an accusing stare that promises punishment for some fictional transgression, but unbelievably, it fades, and he looks very quickly like a child who's just had his toys broken by a bigger, badder kid.
"Everything was tied up in it..."
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Stumbling, the Man of Steel looks up at Steve Lombard. "S-sorry. Still haven't gotten over that..."
"...whatever you had this week." Steve grunts, but not unkindly. "Go awn, man, I'll cover for you."
"...thanks, Lombard." In truth, Clark isn't at one hundred percent. He's STILL recovering from whatever weird weapon Luthor was using during their fight between the seconds some months ago. As he rushes down the alley, Clark would really rather be in bed. "But..." Clark mutters, ripping his shirt open to show that S-shield, "...I've got a job to do."
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This shows, when he doesn't sense the faster than a speeding bullet Kryptonian shooting towards his back, and crashing into him from behind with fists as strong as iron. He only really notices once he's in mid-air, and proceeds to feel and hear the creaking of metal inside his torso.
"YOU!" Pirhouetting in the sky, the Cyborg rights himself and lands on the ground on his feet, crunching into the tarmac of the road and skidding to a halt. "You had to come and ruin things, didn't you?!"
Henshaw kicks back and flies towards Superman, arms outstretched to catch the man of steel around the waist.
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...No, no he won't. Because he's Superman, damn it.
Lois's skirt and suit jacket barely ruffled; that's how good is Superman's attack that sends both of the super-powered men some distance from her. She turns toward Max and notes dryly, "And that's the real Superman."
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