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Chapter 312: I Am Holt
The flying T-Spheres were the culmination of Mister Terrific's technological prowess, possessing a degree of intelligence and an unparalleled familiarity with his tech. With them leading the way, Orin Vale's access to Cyberville's classified data went incredibly smoothly, triggering no alarms and meeting no obstacles.
When he swiped open the display interface to begin his search, a T-Sphere even floated over, using an energy force field to present him with a cup of steaming hot coffee.
Orin Vale was speechless.
Strangely enough, he could actually sense a hint of sycophancy from this hard, metallic little ball.
Orin Vale quickly skimmed through the data presented by the T-Spheres.
"Michael Holt has confirmed the theory of parallel worlds to be true. During an experiment, he received a signal from another world... It could not be deciphered, but it strengthened his resolve to find a path to the otherworld."
"Progress on the Quantum Tunnel project has stalled..."
As he was scrolling down, the lights on the ceiling and the screen before him suddenly went out with a click.
Orin Vale raised an eyebrow.
Did Mister Terrific forget to pay the electricity bill?
He scanned the internal network with his Enhanced Vision. His Microscopic Vision detected a unique particle, definitely not a product of Earth, spreading silently. It permeated the air, filled the cables and circuits, and interfered with the entire system's operation.
It was some kind of electrical interference, similar to the effect of an electromagnetic pulse.
Previously, Orin Vale might have been unfamiliar with this technology, but he had seen something similar during the battle at Dehryan.
This was a form of Apokolips technology.
The private elevator had also been disabled. He heard heartbeats ascending the elevator shaft, accompanied by the sound of airflow... the sound of Hover Shoes.
The next moment, his Ultra Vision confirmed it. A team of fully-armed Men in Black, wearing Hover Shoes, was rising up the elevator shaft. It was a private elevator, and its only possible destination was Holt's office.
Not only that, but Orin Vale also noticed a gas. It was being released through the ventilation system, colorless and odorless, impossible for an ordinary person to detect. But with his Super Vision, he examined the gas's molecular structure and confirmed it was a short-term paralytic agent. A normal person would pass out on the spot with just one whiff.
It didn't seem harmful, though, and likely wouldn't leave any side effects.
And this was Michael Holt's private office.
So the enemy's objective was clear.
They wanted to capture Mister Terrific.
Perhaps they were remnants of Intergang? Was this Desaad's doing?
The elevator stopped, its digital display fixed on the top floor.
Should he take them down on the spot and extract whatever intelligence they had?
Orin Vale quickly vetoed this decision. Based on his experience dealing with minions from Apokolips, he couldn't expect to get any useful information from the mouths of these low-level grunts.
Besides, that would spoil all the fun.
Orin Vale thought for a moment and made a decision just as the elevator's metal doors were about to open.
A flicker of golden light flashed over his body. In an instant, he had transformed into the likeness of Mister Terrific, Michael Holt, and slumped over the desk, playing dead.
A few seconds later, he heard footsteps. A team of Men in Black swarmed in, raising their guns and surrounding the desk.
Then he heard someone speak.
"Report, target found, already unconscious. The gas was effective."
"...Roger that. Commencing extraction."
After speaking, the man ordered a teammate beside him, "You, carry him."
That teammate heard him and turned to another person. "You, the captain told you to carry him."
That person then turned to the next. "You, the squad leader told you to carry him."
The next person turned to... oh, he looked around and saw there was no one else.
*So I'm the low man on the totem pole. Fine.*
The henchman grunted an acknowledgment, holstered his gun, and then hefted the limp form of Orin Vale, grunting and straining as he followed his teammates back.
"Damn, he's heavy..." the henchman panted.
But this immediately drew the dissatisfaction of a teammate. "We've only taken a few steps and you're already complaining? Are you useless or what?"
Another teammate grumbled, "I told you to go to the club less, but you wouldn't listen. I told you to order two fewer girls just once, but you wouldn't listen to that either. What was it you said... 'anything less than three is boring.' Now look at you. So worn out..."
The man's face instantly turned crimson under his mask. "Wh-when was I worn out? I was just making a comment..."
"Good. Then hurry up, don't dawdle at the back. If we're late returning, that guy is going to lose his temper again."
So the henchman fell silent, just sweating profusely as he carried the body at the rear.
The team's pecking order was clear at a glance.
They were in some kind of flying vehicle, hovering just outside the building, waiting. The group jumped directly through the window into the cabin, and the vehicle activated its Stealth mode, silently disappearing into the Night Sky.
After a short flight, they arrived at a Stronghold.
The place was quite remote. The vehicle landed, and the leader of the group got out first, while Orin Vale and the others temporarily remained in the cabin.
It was called a Stronghold, but the place was actually very small. There were no other people around, making it seem more like a recluse's hideout. There was only one person inside, most of his body hidden in a patch of shadow when they entered.
"As per our agreement, we brought the man," the leader announced.
"Hmph," the man in the darkness said slowly. "Michael Holt?"
"The one and only, right here in the cabin behind me," the leader said.
"Bring him to me," the man said in a low voice.
The leader shook his head. "According to the agreement, show me the remuneration first. Life's been tough for the brothers since the Syndicate collapsed. Every job has us on edge. We can't feel at ease until we see the pay."
The man said coldly, "You don't have the leverage to negotiate with me, you ants."
The leader scowled. "I'm warning you, maybe Boss Manhattan is gone, but we're still Intergang, and we still have equipment from another world. There aren't many people on this Planet who dare to talk to us like that. Your boss was always quick with the money before, and we had a good partnership, so we respected him. But that doesn't mean we're afraid of anyone."
The man laughed with contempt.
"On this planet, you say... Very well. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"
The leader paused, then said, "We only care about the deal itself."
"We are from the supreme Apokolips! We were the ones who gave your incompetent boss this equipment in the first place!" the man boomed.
The Men in Black were stunned by his words.
"You... you're... No, impossible! Your King was defeated by Ultraman, your armies were crushed by the Justice League, and you've already left Earth..."
"We were merely biding our time. And now, Michael Holt, this human, is very important to us," the figure said coldly. "Now, if I were you, I would be smart, hand him over, and scram."
Clearly, they had no intention of paying.
Although they were New Gods from Apokolips, they had to keep a low profile on Earth now and couldn't use their abilities recklessly. It wasn't that they had no money, but they were far from well-off.
To think that the dignified New Gods of Apokolips had fallen to the point of defaulting on wages and refusing to pay for completed work...
The leader's expression changed slightly. The other party's identity was indeed unexpected, but he'd been in the underworld for so long that he'd seen his share of aliens. He gritted his teeth, waved his hand, and made a gesture.
The henchman in the cabin immediately dragged the unconscious Michael Holt out and pressed a gun to his head.
"I don't know how you aliens do things, but around here, if you don't want to do business, then nobody does!" the leader shouted. "Your boss repeatedly stressed that he wanted him alive, so I'm guessing a dead Holt won't be much help, right? Now either you pay up, or we blow this rich guy's brains out, and nobody gets what they want!"
Sure enough, with that move, he immediately saw a flash of panic on the other man's face.
The leader's eyes lit up, feeling a surge of pride in his tough negotiation tactics. He thought he had hit his opponent's weak spot.
Just as he was about to press his advantage and demand a higher price, he heard the New God opposite him say through gritted teeth.
"You... you idiot, you brought this monster here, and you still have the gall to ask for remuneration!?"
(end of chapter)
The flying T-Spheres were the culmination of Mister Terrific's technological prowess, possessing a degree of intelligence and an unparalleled familiarity with his tech. With them leading the way, Orin Vale's access to Cyberville's classified data went incredibly smoothly, triggering no alarms and meeting no obstacles.
When he swiped open the display interface to begin his search, a T-Sphere even floated over, using an energy force field to present him with a cup of steaming hot coffee.
Orin Vale was speechless.
Strangely enough, he could actually sense a hint of sycophancy from this hard, metallic little ball.
Orin Vale quickly skimmed through the data presented by the T-Spheres.
"Michael Holt has confirmed the theory of parallel worlds to be true. During an experiment, he received a signal from another world... It could not be deciphered, but it strengthened his resolve to find a path to the otherworld."
"Progress on the Quantum Tunnel project has stalled..."
As he was scrolling down, the lights on the ceiling and the screen before him suddenly went out with a click.
Orin Vale raised an eyebrow.
Did Mister Terrific forget to pay the electricity bill?
He scanned the internal network with his Enhanced Vision. His Microscopic Vision detected a unique particle, definitely not a product of Earth, spreading silently. It permeated the air, filled the cables and circuits, and interfered with the entire system's operation.
It was some kind of electrical interference, similar to the effect of an electromagnetic pulse.
Previously, Orin Vale might have been unfamiliar with this technology, but he had seen something similar during the battle at Dehryan.
This was a form of Apokolips technology.
The private elevator had also been disabled. He heard heartbeats ascending the elevator shaft, accompanied by the sound of airflow... the sound of Hover Shoes.
The next moment, his Ultra Vision confirmed it. A team of fully-armed Men in Black, wearing Hover Shoes, was rising up the elevator shaft. It was a private elevator, and its only possible destination was Holt's office.
Not only that, but Orin Vale also noticed a gas. It was being released through the ventilation system, colorless and odorless, impossible for an ordinary person to detect. But with his Super Vision, he examined the gas's molecular structure and confirmed it was a short-term paralytic agent. A normal person would pass out on the spot with just one whiff.
It didn't seem harmful, though, and likely wouldn't leave any side effects.
And this was Michael Holt's private office.
So the enemy's objective was clear.
They wanted to capture Mister Terrific.
Perhaps they were remnants of Intergang? Was this Desaad's doing?
The elevator stopped, its digital display fixed on the top floor.
Should he take them down on the spot and extract whatever intelligence they had?
Orin Vale quickly vetoed this decision. Based on his experience dealing with minions from Apokolips, he couldn't expect to get any useful information from the mouths of these low-level grunts.
Besides, that would spoil all the fun.
Orin Vale thought for a moment and made a decision just as the elevator's metal doors were about to open.
A flicker of golden light flashed over his body. In an instant, he had transformed into the likeness of Mister Terrific, Michael Holt, and slumped over the desk, playing dead.
A few seconds later, he heard footsteps. A team of Men in Black swarmed in, raising their guns and surrounding the desk.
Then he heard someone speak.
"Report, target found, already unconscious. The gas was effective."
"...Roger that. Commencing extraction."
After speaking, the man ordered a teammate beside him, "You, carry him."
That teammate heard him and turned to another person. "You, the captain told you to carry him."
That person then turned to the next. "You, the squad leader told you to carry him."
The next person turned to... oh, he looked around and saw there was no one else.
*So I'm the low man on the totem pole. Fine.*
The henchman grunted an acknowledgment, holstered his gun, and then hefted the limp form of Orin Vale, grunting and straining as he followed his teammates back.
"Damn, he's heavy..." the henchman panted.
But this immediately drew the dissatisfaction of a teammate. "We've only taken a few steps and you're already complaining? Are you useless or what?"
Another teammate grumbled, "I told you to go to the club less, but you wouldn't listen. I told you to order two fewer girls just once, but you wouldn't listen to that either. What was it you said... 'anything less than three is boring.' Now look at you. So worn out..."
The man's face instantly turned crimson under his mask. "Wh-when was I worn out? I was just making a comment..."
"Good. Then hurry up, don't dawdle at the back. If we're late returning, that guy is going to lose his temper again."
So the henchman fell silent, just sweating profusely as he carried the body at the rear.
The team's pecking order was clear at a glance.
They were in some kind of flying vehicle, hovering just outside the building, waiting. The group jumped directly through the window into the cabin, and the vehicle activated its Stealth mode, silently disappearing into the Night Sky.
After a short flight, they arrived at a Stronghold.
The place was quite remote. The vehicle landed, and the leader of the group got out first, while Orin Vale and the others temporarily remained in the cabin.
It was called a Stronghold, but the place was actually very small. There were no other people around, making it seem more like a recluse's hideout. There was only one person inside, most of his body hidden in a patch of shadow when they entered.
"As per our agreement, we brought the man," the leader announced.
"Hmph," the man in the darkness said slowly. "Michael Holt?"
"The one and only, right here in the cabin behind me," the leader said.
"Bring him to me," the man said in a low voice.
The leader shook his head. "According to the agreement, show me the remuneration first. Life's been tough for the brothers since the Syndicate collapsed. Every job has us on edge. We can't feel at ease until we see the pay."
The man said coldly, "You don't have the leverage to negotiate with me, you ants."
The leader scowled. "I'm warning you, maybe Boss Manhattan is gone, but we're still Intergang, and we still have equipment from another world. There aren't many people on this Planet who dare to talk to us like that. Your boss was always quick with the money before, and we had a good partnership, so we respected him. But that doesn't mean we're afraid of anyone."
The man laughed with contempt.
"On this planet, you say... Very well. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"
The leader paused, then said, "We only care about the deal itself."
"We are from the supreme Apokolips! We were the ones who gave your incompetent boss this equipment in the first place!" the man boomed.
The Men in Black were stunned by his words.
"You... you're... No, impossible! Your King was defeated by Ultraman, your armies were crushed by the Justice League, and you've already left Earth..."
"We were merely biding our time. And now, Michael Holt, this human, is very important to us," the figure said coldly. "Now, if I were you, I would be smart, hand him over, and scram."
Clearly, they had no intention of paying.
Although they were New Gods from Apokolips, they had to keep a low profile on Earth now and couldn't use their abilities recklessly. It wasn't that they had no money, but they were far from well-off.
To think that the dignified New Gods of Apokolips had fallen to the point of defaulting on wages and refusing to pay for completed work...
The leader's expression changed slightly. The other party's identity was indeed unexpected, but he'd been in the underworld for so long that he'd seen his share of aliens. He gritted his teeth, waved his hand, and made a gesture.
The henchman in the cabin immediately dragged the unconscious Michael Holt out and pressed a gun to his head.
"I don't know how you aliens do things, but around here, if you don't want to do business, then nobody does!" the leader shouted. "Your boss repeatedly stressed that he wanted him alive, so I'm guessing a dead Holt won't be much help, right? Now either you pay up, or we blow this rich guy's brains out, and nobody gets what they want!"
Sure enough, with that move, he immediately saw a flash of panic on the other man's face.
The leader's eyes lit up, feeling a surge of pride in his tough negotiation tactics. He thought he had hit his opponent's weak spot.
Just as he was about to press his advantage and demand a higher price, he heard the New God opposite him say through gritted teeth.
"You... you idiot, you brought this monster here, and you still have the gall to ask for remuneration!?"
(end of chapter)
