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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... and straight through the supporting columns of the Shreck.net offices, quickly followed by the rest of the buildings in the block.
He's torn his way through the concrete and back into the sky before the buildings have collapsed, holding a metallic container tight in his arm, into which he's scooped something green and luminescent. The Cyborg Superman quickly examines it, and nods to himself as the counter on the side of the container displays the amount of Chemo now held within the trylium-lined flask. Exactly what he was after.
Casting a brief apathetic glance back at the rapidly tumbling masonry, and the rather surprised crowd around Shreck's pavilion, he shrugs, and then rockets away toward the horizon. What care does the Cyborg Superman have for the enterprises of an insignificant Lex Luthor wannabe? It was his own damn fault for erecting buildings on a site where a living toxic being has been spraying its innards a year or so ago.
"If anything, I'm doing Metropolis a favour."
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"Superman... Just ruined me..."
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Has she changed? She's looking a little worriedly toward the others, too.
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