7 Propaganda #7
Amidst the chaos, Hal Jordan floated toward Superman, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.
"What's happening here?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation. Superman turned toward Hal with a troubled countenance. "She's one of yours, right? This Livewire character, I mean. What's your take on her??" Hal Jordan inquired, trying to gather more information.
With a sigh, Superman elaborated, "I know she took advantage of the chaos to escape and come after me... I overheard a young man trying to talk some sense into her, and I honestly didn't think much of it..." He paused, contemplating his own assessment of the situation.
"I thought he'd only manage to distract her for a minute or two, and I was ready to get him out of there, but it seems I thought too little of the young man..." Superman's expression shifted to reflect a tinge of introspection.
Raising an eyebrow at Superman's capabilities, Hal muttered, "Super hearing sure is convenient, albeit a bit unnerving..." He shook his head, slightly taken aback by the revelation. "Still... can she be trusted? Will she protect the civilians as promised?" Hal Jordan inquired, seeking assurance in the midst of uncertainty.
Superman nodded in response. "It appears so. Livewire may have her quirks, but she seems to stick to her word for the most part..." His tone carried a sense of reluctant acknowledgment. "If she doesn't hold up her end, then I'll deal with her once we've restored order," Superman declared firmly, displaying his determination to maintain order and protect the city at all costs.
As Superman revealed his intentions to Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern flashed a knowing smile. "Guess it's a case of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, huh?" he remarked, prompting a nod from the Man of Steel in agreement.
"In that case, I'll contain those pesky fellows with a light barrier once they're pushed into the city's eastern side," Hal explained, clenching his fist as his power ring surged. "It wasn't feasible given how spread out they were, but now it's manageable. Although I won't be able to keep fighting, so that's where I'll bow out and leave it to you and the rest," he concluded, emphasizing the limitations of his action.
"Thanks, Hal," Superman expressed his gratitude with a nod, readying himself for the task ahead. "Once this is taken care of, let's grab a bite to eat..." He turned and flew swiftly toward the eastern quadrant of Metropolis, his voice trailing behind.
Hal chuckled at Superman's departing words, watching the Man of Steel soar into action against the chaos. "It'll be your treat through!" he called out, his voice echoing through the skirmish as Superman vanished into the distance.
...
In some bland company's (the name of which I couldn't be bothered to remember) dark CCTV room, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at Livewire. There she was, kicking back on a stool, legs up on the console table, watching these edited clips of herself with this insufferable smirk plastered across her face.
The screen in front of her looped videos showcasing her fake heroic feats—images of herself swooping in, rescuing civilians from robotic assailants, all with an unmistakably smug grin.
The central CCTV display featured Livewire soaring into the sky, putting her electric powers on display and manipulating the remaining machines, turning them against their comrades.
In truth, other than the footage playing on the central screen, the rest were all as fake as a Kardashian's rear end, and I know because captured each and every one of them.
I cooked up this whole scheme where Livewire would pretend to save folks from robot attacks when she was the one to incite them in the first place to garner gratitude and admiration from the people before taking control of the entire swarm.
It was a pretty shady move, I'll admit. But hey, nobody got hurt, and these fake heroics were our ticket to clearing Livewire's name when this whole mess wrapped up.
Besides, I was having way too much fun to care. These shenanigans beat listening to my boss complain about improper wording in business emails for hours on end and preaching the importance of corporate solidarity any time of the day, any day of the week.
As I pondered the situation, Livewire's lively voice cut through my thoughts. "So, what's the master plan, genius?" she quipped, her gaze fixed on me, eager for answers.
'Well, that's a change in tone if I've ever seen one... this is kind of too easy...' I thought to myself, deciding to keep that observation to myself. "Right now, your priority is to get these videos everywhere. Let the whole world see your heroics before they even catch wind of the Metropolis mayhem," I calmly explained instead.
Livewire arched an eyebrow. "Already on it. I'm not clueless, you know?" she retorted, her tone tinged with annoyance. "But what's next? You pitched this to me as a bigger plan than just a quick pardon," she probed, seeking more insight into the bigger picture.
I let out a sigh and glanced sideways at Livewire. "Do I come across as an idiot to you?" I deadpanned. "This is a mutual deal, not one where I sketch out your future and you vanish, leaving me with zilch for my trouble," I asserted firmly.
"Is that so?" Livewire responded, more entertained by my words than anything else. "And if I fancy renegotiating our little arrangement?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes.
"Then you'll get nothing more from me. See how long your clean record lasts before Superman carts you back to prison," I retorted with a scoff. "You want the spotlight? You want the world to adore you? Help me out, and I'll help you channel your talents effectively. Otherwise, we're done here," I declared firmly.
Letting Livewire slip away from my grasp would be a pity, but my quest was to steer her actions enough to divert the crisis event's course, which I've achieved. I didn't need her to fabricate an identity; I could likely acquire one from the system using quest points.
While I'd prefer not to waste those points on such a mundane matter when I can get a new identity from Livewire on account of her contacts, I had no intention of becoming a personal assistant to some second-rate, edgy DC villainess.
Seeing as she had no response other than a careless shrug, I shifted my attention away from Livewire, aiming to refocus on my plans for a brighter future.
But just as I settled into my thoughts, a system notification jolted me back to the present: [The Storm Walker's Shoes charge has increased by 2%].
A momentary confusion swept over me until I noticed electric arcs swirling around my torso. I didn't need to be a level nine intellect to realize that Livewire had finally fulfilled her promise of zapping me.
Whirling around to face her, my expression must've been baleful. "What's the big idea?" I asked, putting on my best Professor Snape impression.
"Calm down, you big baby," Livewire interjected, looking surprisingly composed and even entertained. "It was just a tiny zap to test where all that bravado was coming from," she explained, her tone more thoughtful than apologetic.
"Guess it wasn't unfounded. You didn't feel a thing, did you?" Her narrowed eyes bore into mine, assessing my reaction.
In a calculated move, I sized up Livewire. 'Seems she's not just a pretty face,' I thought, acknowledging her test with a slight zap—the Storm Walker Shoes' charge wouldn't go up by a measly 2% if she put any effort into it.
She was basically gauging my reaction, probing to see if she could assert control over me through intimidation.
If I'd shown fear, she might have pushed further; as it stood, she chose to play it off like a harmless prank. Still, this wasn't the worst turn of events, far from it actually. It was a golden opportunity—a chance to establish my boundaries and make it clear that she couldn't rattle me.
"You think I'd walk up to a human lightning bolt without precautions?" I retorted, fixing Livewire with an intense stare. "Don't try testing me again. It won't go your way," I warned, making it evident that I meant business.
"Sure thing, boss man," Livewire replied with a mocking tone, though there was a discernible hint of caution in her demeanor. "So, again, I ask, what's our next move?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Now, we find a good lawyer... can't have you handling your own case, can we?" I quipped with a chuckle, aiming to diffuse the tension. "That'd be a catastrophe waiting to happen..."
...
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