87 The Right Way to Ruin a Supervillain's day #87

Micah let out a weary sigh as he scrutinized the two maps laid out before him. One was a flickering hologram projected from a spherical device, while the other was a seemingly hand-drawn map on an ancient piece of parchment.

Both maps were adorned with markers, representing Lazarus Pits. The hologram showed beeping red dots, while the parchment had dark wreathing stains. However, nearly all of these markers were crossed out, save for one in the center.

"Predictably, relying solely on science couldn't uncover all the Lazarus Pits," Micah muttered to himself, his gaze shifting between the two maps. "Thankfully, I know someone who's adept in the mystical arts," he added with a wry chuckle, noting the disparities in the markers.

After enlisting Hal Jordan's assistance to scan the Earth using his power ring and obtain a comprehensive map pinpointing every known Lazarus Pit, Micah made his way to the Teen Titans tower. There, he sought out Raven and made a similar request, harnessing her magical abilities to locate any hidden Lazarus Pits.

Upon comparing the results from both sources, Micah identified several locations that Hal's power ring couldn't detect and others that eluded Raven's magic.

Fortunately, he had anticipated such limitations, employing a combination of technology and magic to cover all possible avenues. Over the next twelve hours, Micah teleported across the globe, systematically dismantling every Lazarus Pit he encountered, except for one.

Micah harbored no intention of sparing even a single Lazarus Pit on Earth, driven by a fervent desire to sever all lifelines connecting Ras Al Ghul to his twisted legacy. The incessant pursuit by the Demon Head's minions had denied Micah even a moment of respite for an entire year, fueling his determination to settle the score once and for all.

Yet, the prospect of simply obliterating every Lazarus Pit seemed mundane to Micah, hardly enough to quench his thirst for retribution. He envisioned a grander scheme, one that would exact a fitting price for the relentless harassment he endured.

However, that plan would have to wait for another day; for now, he needed to recharge and prepare himself for the upcoming press conference.

"Gorilla Grodd and Ras Al Ghul... just you wait, you sons of bitches," Micah muttered under his breath. "I'll definitely make you pay for all the annoyance you caused me..."

Putting away the maps, Micah headed toward the exit, already looking forward to the day he'd settle these scores.

...

As Micah stepped into the room, a flurry of camera flashes assaulted his senses, causing him to squint against the brightness. The relentless barrage continued with a flood of questions from the eager reporters, leaving Micah little space to process, let alone answer them all.

"Mr. Foster, is this your first public appearance? Are you about to unveil a breakthrough medicine surpassing even the cancer cure?"

"Mr. Foster, rumors are swirling that you're from a parallel universe. Can you confirm? Did knowledge from your world contribute to your success?"

The questions bombarded Micah from all sides, overwhelming him. Yet, he maintained his poise, lifting his hands in a calming gesture to quell the clamor.

"I'll do my best to address your inquiries, but first, allow me a moment to speak," Micah interjected, his commanding presence demanding attention as he approached the podium.

"Today, I've convened you all not to discuss something as trivial as business or prompting some product but to address a pressing concern," he announced, eliciting puzzled murmurs from the crowd.

"I'm here to shed light on the recent events that unfolded in our city just yesterday," he continued, his tone solemn.

An impatient reporter couldn't resist interjecting. "You mean the sudden appearance of the islanders in the heart of the city?"

Micah nodded gravely. "Very much so. What you may not know is that I played a role in rescuing these people during my travels," he revealed, his words carrying weight.

"I may not fit the mold of a hero, but I'm not your average civilian either," Micah added, his hand gesturing to conjure a shadowy tornado within his palm, a subtle display of his otherworldly abilities before dispersing it with a flick of his fingers. "Not that it matters, anyway," He added with a chuckle.

Micah's voice cut through the buzzing of the room, commanding attention amidst the sea of flashing cameras and eager reporters.

"What matters here are the heinous crimes committed on Infinity Island and the mastermind behind generations of oppression, Ras Al Ghul," he stated firmly, his expression grave.

"It's hard to wrap your head around, but Ras is indeed an immortal, living for who knows how long. He's the one who invaded Infinity Island in the 17th century and oppressed its natives until just recently," Micah explained, his tone weighted with the weight of truth.

"I've seen firsthand the cruelty and hardship these people endured under Ras Al Ghul's rule," he continued, his voice tinged with anger.

"Just the thought that the world turned a blind eye to this injustice for so long... it sickens me to the core," he admitted, his frustration evident as he slammed his hand on the podium, causing it to crack.

"Sorry for the outburst, but what I witnessed was truly horrific," Micah apologized, his tone softer but no less resolute.

"I spoke with one of the islanders. He told me they lived under one rule: obedience meant a few lashes, but disobedience led to death by flogging. Can you even imagine the suffering they endured?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the reporters.

A murmur of skepticism rippled through the crowd as the reporter voiced his doubts, questioning the validity of Micah's claims.

"Infinity Island is so remote that it's not hard to believe such crimes could go unnoticed there... but an immortal mastermind leading a secretive organization of assassins responsible for all this?" the reporter questioned, his tone skeptical.

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but these natives seem extremely primitive and technologically isolated. Isn't it possible someone is manipulating them to instill fear and obedience?" he pressed further.

Micah nodded, acknowledging the reporter's astute observations. "You raise valid points. I, too, harbored doubts when I first heard of this so-called immortal Demon Head. However, I assure you, it's all too real," he responded calmly, his confidence unwavering.

"I've conducted my own investigations into these matters. But you don't have to take my word for it. The rescue team sent to retrieve the remaining islanders will return soon with evidence to support my claims," he assured, his voice steady and assured.

"And with the assistance of the Justice League, I've spent the past day traveling the world, dismantling Ras Al Ghul's organization," Micah continued, his tone resolute.

"I've shut down over seventy-three of their bases, leaving only one remaining," he concluded, his words punctuated by a sense of determination.

A skeptical reporter raised an eyebrow, challenging Micah's claim. "Seventy-three bases? I don't mean to doubt your abilities, but even if you had the power... dismantling an organization of such magnitude in just one day seems highly improbable, doesn't it?" he queried, his skepticism palpable.

Suddenly, before the eyes of everyone present, Micah vanished from the podium, replaced by the very reporter who had just spoken. Gasps of surprise rippled through the room as all eyes turned to the spot where the reporter had stood, only to find Micah there.

With a snap of his fingers, Micah switched places with the reporter once more and returned to the podium.

"Like I said... I'm not your average civilian," Micah declared, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Another reporter, less impressed by Micah's display, cut through the tension with a direct question. "Then why have you gathered us here? Is it merely to take credit for saving these people and enhance your company's reputation?" he inquired, his gaze fixed firmly on Micah.

Micah chuckled softly, unperturbed by the insinuation. "I have more money and fame than I know what to do with," he replied, shaking his head. "I didn't convene this gathering for such trivial reasons. Instead, I have an announcement to make," he stated, his tone serious.

"Despite my best efforts, I have yet to locate Ras Al Ghul, despite significantly dismantling his organization," Micah explained, his voice carrying a note of frustration. "While I may have a trick or two up my sleeve, some tasks prove beyond my abilities. Therefore, I turn to the common man for assistance," he continued.

"I hereby declare that anyone who provides intel leading to the capture of Ras Al Ghul will receive a reward of five million American dollars from my own pocket," he declared. "And for anyone who manages to capture Ras Al Ghul and deliver him to the authorities, a reward of fifty million American dollars awaits," he added, his voice resolute.

"I don't care who they are or where they come from. As long as someone can aid in capturing the villain Ras Al Ghul, I will generously reward them in any way, shape, or form they wish !" Micah concluded his words echoing with determination.