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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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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"There a reason...you had to break that building?" Superman snarls back, no love lost on his side. "Or were you just bored?!"
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The analysis of the Cyborg's body shows that it's been designed with an intricacy like never before. Some top level scientist has been hard at work, fine-tuning Henshaw's body. "And there I was, thinking you hated greedy industrialists. I've done half your work for you, Kent!"
Leaping backwards away from Superman, the Cyborg aims to get amid the throng of civilians around the Shreck gala. The big blue bastard won't use any of his high-damage attacks if innocents could get hurt.
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John Henry Irons had known that the Cyborg would be back someday - it figures he'd come back and wreck a project that was providing a vital lifeline for some of Metropolis's hardest-hit communities.
So the hammerblow to the metal jaw only seems a fitting punishment.
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...right?
WHAM! "nrrggh." Clark's retort is cut off courtesy of Henshaw's throat punch, letting the maniac get away. Shaking his head, the Man of Steel narrows his eyes at the brutal tactics the Cyborg's resorting to-and thank God for John Henry Irons. "Thanks for the backup, Steel. Careful of his back, he's carrying something!"
There's no time for further deliberation, as Superman rockets forward, shamelessly taking advantage of Steel's distraction to aim a sucker punch at Henshaw's brain case. Sure, it won't kill him, but it might rattle the maniac enough to stun! Positive thinking.
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"Hey!" Shreck's fists ball-up, and with his good hand he quickly draws his sidearm.
"HEY!" Tired of being ignored, Max fires into the air.
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And then the gunshot brings him back to Earth-1. He aims a blast of heat-vision at Max Shreck's wrist, cutting his hand off and making the gun clatter to the road. "Guns kill."
He then projects a wide beam of heat, turning his head suddenly to catch the crowd.
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"Oh, /hell/ no."
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Catalina screams.
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"So it keeps." Superman explains, and is off like a shot, appearing behind the Cyborg Superman so quickly its like he learned zwee fighting. "Did you do the upgrades yourself?" Superman asks, strong hands grabbing the sides of Henshaw's stolen chest, legs planting in the ground, and a jaw setting in place. "Or...are...they...'borrowed'...?"
The rest of Superman's attention is then given to ripping Hank Henshaw's cybernetic chest open.
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Catalina's hand remains over her mouth at the whip of wind when Superman flashes past her, takes Max and departs again. The tip of her nose is a little frosty from the exhalation.
Muttering to herself in Spanish, she hurries off after the ambulance and the paramedic. Good thing she's talented at running in high heels.
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