Time to do my best Batman with what I had.
Plant Master was here with two huge walking trees, each wielding four leafy, tentacle-like arms. Slade was somewhere nearby, almost certainly with a big gun and a sword. And...that was his plan—snipe me if I tried to fly away. I was 90% sure that was his plan A.
Also, incoming one-woman alien weapon of mass destruction. A framed super-criminal investigation into me was ongoing. I needed to upend that. And then I had to escape this location clean.
Easy. I had a plan that almost worked for this.
My best weapon against the tree things and their Master was the hard light engine. It just-
I dodged up and back, jumping in the air and then going horizontal with my motion like a Wuxai martial arts character on wires. Strength enhancement from the suit plus hard light surfaces to push off of in my case. All automated as part of a planned escape macro.
Right, time hadn't actually slowed down. Those trees were fast. Getting out of line of sight now.
I ended up behind the shipping containers, avoiding being smacked around by bark and palm fronds by inches. The containers rung with a loud clang from the strikes.
The vines tried digging up through the ground again to get me, and I cut them back again. They screamed at me and retreated. Looked like Plant Master didn't have much volume of plants to work with in the middle of this concrete wasteland, so he couldn't just overwhelm me instantly. Still, he was trickling in minions.
It was sloppy. Send all your best forces in together, not in small manageable waves.
Okay, I needed to set this up right. I wasn't going into melee range with any of those things. No glowing boxing gloves. God no. Though I'd found there was a reason of sorts for those.
Hard light constructs' strength mostly depend on the systems powering them. With a strong enough source, you could move planets around from orbit.
I didn't have that strong a power source. I could lift maybe...a truck. With a construct as wide as a truck's wheel base—no Superman plane lifts for me. I could get an edge about as good as steel, and about as strong. I had to obey the laws of physics. For now. Well, most of them.
All of at least my hard light constructs worked best when directly supported by a contiguous structure emanating from the power source; i.e., glowing objects connected directly to my chest. Hard light pushed against itself better than normal matter, and its strength was a factor of the total volume of a construct. Bigger was better than lots of small items of the same volume. Also easier on the control systems.
Guns made of hard light were also iffy for me, as I was basically shooting my power to pieces that way, with inefficient power-simulated gunpowder explosions or draining of simulated capacitors, all into just throwing around weaker bits of hard light or beams of simulated energy to which hard light didn't quite fully conform.
The power bolts were a simplified compromise, shooting a sort of self-supporting and contained slugs to deliver impact damage before dissipation. Riot bullets made of hard light.
Maybe better conceptual modeling would make more complicated constructs work better and faster. Or at all. Pooja was on it. But this wasn't an emotional spectrum driven power ring, so I had my doubts.
Hitting people with things made of hard light, on the other hand, was something that worked well. I'd practiced that.
I made an double-uppercutting motion that I hoped no one else was recording. The rotating saw blades around my hands flew back over the top of the containers, projected on the end of flexible arms of glowing star power emanating from my chest.
The two walking trees were marked in my HUD, outlined behind the obstacles between us. One pass from my remote controlled blades and they lost an arm each.
Deep inhuman howls and sort of human cursing followed.
Luckily, I didn't need to make any more shadow boxing motions now that they were engaged. I could target them with my manual system on the little figures projected in my helmet display. Two big, angry, now three-armed trees and a confused Plant Master.
The saw blade arms didn't have a very good cutting edge but spinning made it a bit better. The blades had momentum of a sort and were supported with more hard light for better follow-through on the strikes. They cut through the trees like chainsaws tied to an octopus.
My energy arms swung again, aimed at the probably not sapient trees. Fuck it. I adjusted targeting at the last moment for more limb removal instead of going for a possible killing blow, focusing down the one tree about to round the corner. Another arm, and half the root system keeping it standing was lopped off.
Never bring a tree golem to an energy construct fight.
"Incoming," Pooja said, having shifted to a generic robot voice. "Twenty seconds. Comms discipline."
That was my cue to remember to stop using names. As if I didn't know.
Something moving just under five hundred miles per hour, a hundred feet off the ground, showed up on the map in the corner of my HUD. Projected arrival time and location, triangulated from multiple security cameras several miles out. Nineteen seconds.
I chopped faster.
Huge crash. Tree one down. Still moving so not dead? I'd done my best.
"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" Very original, Plant Master.
Okay. Fine. Tall flower gets cut.
For this detail work, I carefully targeted specific points on the model of Plant Master. Select, select. Retract the saws and dispel. Construct manual selection using eye tracking and a wave of my hand.
Mace-like blunt things on arms this time. About the size of bowling balls. I projected them back around the corner, just as Plant Master started his run at me.
Two thuds. Screams of almost-human pain. Sounds of pounding against bark and concrete. More screams.
Knees were a privilege, not a right.
The plant creatures didn't dispel or retreat. I was getting a lot of vague radar signature from under the concrete. It didn't work through the ground very well. At all, really.
"Note to self," I said. "Add ground penetrating radar throwies to kit. Design recovery system."
"Noted," robo-Pooja said.
Now recall the constructs and back to saws again. Snicker snack on the tree while I selected a third construct. No real force available for this one, not while keeping an emergency reserve for defense. Fine manipulators engaged. Claw machine time.
The vines made another attempt from under the ground, breaking more concrete in a dramatic spray on all sides. I threw out a ring around me that produced multiple short saw-blade arms, all directed mindlessly into the ground around me. Wet noises mixed with metal against rock. Green mulch and concrete dust flew through the air.
Both longer saw arms targeted to the roots of the remaining upright tree thing. Direct control for the claw to lock my third construct onto the cosmic energy source of the staff. And…
Sub-sonic boom overhead. White costume, red cape, blue gloves. It was…
She looked at me. Her eyes...did they...yes, they glowed, two spots of light in the dark night sky.
Would she notice my lead-lined helmet? Assume it was part of the design? Same with my gloves and other clothing, just in case. Fingerprints, read from a mile away? Maybe. Alien powers were bullshit. I just didn't know how much bullshit yet.
"Any time now," I muttered to Pooja. I was almost certainly overheard.
"Got it." Again, robot Pooja. No names. "Good to go."
The Cosmic Staff snapped to my hand as the claw arm disappeared. And now I had Kara Zor-El's full attention.
The saw constructs were dismissed as she glanced back at the...huh. Plant Master was struggling to his feet already. Grew new knees that fast? Okay.
I made a new grabber construct to encircle my hand holding the staff, securing it in the glowing power. Then I tossed the staff to Kara underhand, the construct disappearing half way to her. She moved to intercept the staff, faster than I could track. Her eyes were still locked to me as she held the staff awkwardly off to one side.
Ha. The circuit leak was bugging her, too. I swallowed instead of smirking.
Five foot seven inches of blond, possibly xenophobically indoctrinated, obviously genetically-engineered alien super soldier stared at me. And hello boob window. Such an obvious distraction for foes. Not like Kryptonians needed armor there, and I guess if you had it added to your race's genome by your species' perverted scientists...flaunt it.
It was clear this was a mature woman, not a kid sidekick. Dangerous looking. No witty bander here. I had one chance at this being resolved without violence being enacted on my person.
"Get that to Star Woman, would you?" I said, nodding at the staff in her hands.
She kept floating down towards me, cape fluttering slightly in the cool night breeze off the sea.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"The one handing you back one Cosmic Staff, stolen by Deathstroke."
Kara cocked her head, listening to her almost invisible earpiece. To Oracle, I assumed. "Right. And you just happened to across it. In a locked shipping container. On private property?"
Dot on my HUD. Acoustic signature located. I played it back. And that was a bolt action rifle being worked.
"Got it," said robot Pooja in my ear. All constructs were already off. Full power available.
A gunshot. Kara had already moved, hand held out flat—almost touching the glowing green shield in front of her, cracks now spider-webbing across it. The shield disappeared in a shower of green energy sparks, the shattered bullet dropping to the ground.
Pooja spoke out loud this time to Kara. "Heavily modified M14 designated marksman rifle. 7.62mm cartridge. 74% likelihood of mystical load on the bullet, unknown type. Shooter ID: Slade Wilson, about six hundred meters out. Near 100% accuracy for him at that range. Countermeasures: full-powered hard light energy shield."
It wasn't full powered.
Time for my line. "I don't steal from heroes, Power Woman. I won't allow people to use my name like this and get away with it."
She continued to glare silently.
I added, "And I think you have more important things to do right now."
Pooja didn't report a bolt being worked again. Slade was only taking the one shot.
Kara looked between me and the hovering green hard light arrow Pooja had pointing at Slade's firing location across the storage compound.
It would work. I was 80% sure. Kara was off balance. She had her primary objective in hand. I'd raised credible doubt and hadn't attacked her. Oracle was primed to doubt my guilt now. Kara and Oracle also hadn't planned on dealing with me tonight. I hadn't admitted to any crimes. And Deathstroke was right. There.
Do the right thing, friendly neighborhood alien lady, and creepy gray-hat stalker lady.
Glowing eyes turned back to me again. They narrowed. Her strong, heroic jaw clenched.
A flash of white and she was gone. Only about a 20% chance she even saw Slade during their upcoming chase.
I sighed. "Okay. Exfiltration time."
"Executing," robo-Pooja said.
Green light surrounded me and I flew off at a relatively-anemic one hundred twenty miles per hour. And not at all heading towards home. That was planned for about three hours, two cutout rental vehicles, and four different other transportation mediums from now.
Mission accomplished. Plant Master getting away or being caught wasn't my problem right now. Getting away myself was. He wouldn't know anything, anyway. Just a hired goon.
Two miles out past the channel islands, and only a fifth of the way home, the adrenaline started wearing off—among other things. I face-palmed into my helmet.
Why, exactly, had I felt the need to directly confront Slade Wilson, Power Woman, and-slash-or completely unknown but altogether too likely to show up associates of both? Sure, I needed a win with the Cosmic Staff so I could hand it over to them and look good. And I wasn't really in any danger that time, even from Slade Wilson creeping around.
But why not just hire a guy to get the staff for me using my own sensor yesterday night, or delay an extra day in giving the heroes their own sensor? Why the unconscious work towards a dramatic confrontation as soon as possible? Was that really the best way to convince the heroes I was innocent?
I needed to check my smart drug regimen. That shit was stupid.
At least I hadn't monologued.
It was time to hire a five year old child to check all my plans, present and future.
