This doesn't sound good.
Clark clenched his jaw, staring at the TV as CIA Director William Vaughan testified before Senator Finch's committee.
"The CIA has obtained credible intelligence that Russia, China, India, and Iran are conducting studies into exotic weaponry to use should Superman threaten their countries," said the swarthy, dark-haired man. "These include antimatter and graviton-based ordnance."
The image switched from Vaughan to the anchor in the CNN studio, who interviewed Jack Soo, Vice President of R&D at S.T.A.R. Labs.
"Dr. Soo, if the kinds of weapons Director Vaughan talked about are created, could they be effective against Superman?"
"It is very possible. In quantum field theory, gravitons mediate the force of gravitation. Therefore, if manipulated properly, a graviton-based weapon could negate Superman's power of flight. Or, a significant increase of the local gravitational field could possibly crush him."
"What about antimatter?" asked the anchor.
"The US Air Force has conducted research into that field for years," said Soo. "I consider this a more plausible weapon than one based on graviton particles, which are still theoretical in nature. Contact between matter and antimatter annihilates both. As powerful as Superman is, he is still made up of matter."
The scientist's mouth tightened for a moment. "One of the biggest concerns with an antimatter weapon is its potential destructive capability. One gram has the explosive force of 43 kilotons, the equivalent of nearly three Hiroshima-sized atomic bombs."
Sighing, Clark pushed himself into the cushions of the sofa and gazed at the ceiling, shaking his head. Lois, sitting next to him, gently grasped his hand.
"Wonderful," he muttered. "Now I'm starting a whole new arms race."
"You can't blame yourself for this, Clark." Lois slid closer to him. "And you heard Doctor Soo. There's been research into antimatter weapons long before you arrived on the scene. Last I heard, no one's managed to build an antimatter bomb yet. It could be years, maybe decades, before someone does. Or maybe no one ever will."
"How long did it take this country to build the first atomic bomb? Less than three years. And why? Because they were afraid of the Nazis and the Japanese being the first to build one. Now you have these countries scared of me. Who's to say that won't spur them to hurry up and build an antimatter bomb? And God help us if they have an accident while they're rushing to get it done."
Lois licked her lips, glanced at the TV, then back to him. "You know how many 'credible intelligence reports' turned out to be false? This could be another one."
"What if it's not?" He looked at Lois, drumming the fingers of his free hand on his knee. How much longer could he sit here and let Finch and her committee paint him as the greatest threat to humanity? Lois kept saying that appearing before the committee would give them the chance to make him look even worse.
They're making me look pretty bad without me there.
Clark got to his feet and headed to the bedroom.
"Where are you going?" asked Lois.
"Flying. I've got some thinking to do."
XXXXX
Batman peered through his night vision binoculars at Queensland Docks, trying to ignore the concern that had been scratching the back of his mind all week.
Superman or Luthor. Which one do I concentrate on?
He'd convinced himself that Superman had to take priority. Luthor couldn't toss around aircraft carriers or survive missiles or melt armor plating with heat vision. Besides, he'd alerted all the heroes on that list – at least, the ones he knew how to get in touch with – and Nightwing had volunteered to do surveillance on LexCorp. Luthor was covered.
Still, Batman didn't like the idea of doing nothing while that piece of slime planned ways to take out him and the other heroes.
His information is incomplete. He won't make any moves right away.
He hoped he was right.
"Batman," a woman's voice came from his earpiece. "ROV Three picked up our target entering the West River."
"Copy, Oracle," he replied to Barbara Gordon. Though paralyzed, she still helped him in his war on crime as his eyes and ears.
He cast his gaze down, shoulders sagging. He missed having Batgirl at his side, battling rogues and other assorted scum.
Just like he missed having Dick at his side.
And Jason . . .
Batman's throat clenched. He shut his eyes, forcing the sorrow and guilt from his mind. He needed to focus on the here and now.
Batman raised the binoculars back to his eyes. Five dark-clad men with automatic weapons approached Pier Seven, along with a panel van.
Oracle gave him updates on the cargo ship's progress via three remotely operated vehicles cruising under the water of the West River. The vessel was ten minutes from docking. Batman had also placed hidden cameras and parabolic microphones throughout the docks to keep track of Knyazev and his men.
The Russian had ten mercenaries with him. Oracle had run their images and voices through a variety of law enforcement databases. It was the typical mixed bag of mercs. They came from a variety of countries. All of them had prior experience with their respective militaries or intelligence services. They also carried top-of-the-line equipment. German-made HK416 rifles, Glock 40 pistols, encrypted radios.
Not the sort of opponents he could afford to take lightly.
Knyazev also had two SUVs, black Suburbans, probably armored, three men per vehicle. One guarded the entrance to the docks, the other was on roving patrol, monitored at all times by Oracle.
From his perch behind a bulky HVAC unit, Batman spotted the cargo ship, oblong-shaped with the island set near the stern and rectangular containers filling the center of its deck. A feeder vessel, the smallest class of container ships.
Shortly after it docked, a chubby, bearded man in a white peaked cap exited the bridge and descended the stairs. The ship's captain. Four more people followed. Two carried rifles, the other two lugged a steel crate. Batman drew an anxious breath. The Kryptonite had to be in there.
He zoomed in as the new arrivals walked up to Knyazev. One of them opened the crate, revealing a green stone.
"Oracle, I have confirmation on the Kryptonite."
"Copy, Batman."
Knyazev took out his cell phone and tapped the screen. The captain stared at his phone, looked up at the former KGB assassin, and nodded. Batman figured the man received payment for his services.
The captain and his sailors returned to the ship, leaving the crate behind. Two of Knyazev's men carried it to the panel van. The Russian then put the phone to his ear.
"Knyazev is calling in the SUVs," reported Oracle. "He's making another call . . . it's to Luthor . . . he told him he's on his way with the Kryptonite."
"Copy, Oracle."
Batman hurried away from the HVAC unit, bent at the waist. He hit the remote control on his utility belt just as he reached the parapet. The Batmobile slowly rolled out of the warehouse across the alley. Attaching a grapple to the parapet, he lowered himself to the ground.
"The first SUV is approaching the van," Oracle said as the Batmobile's canopy slid open. "The second SUV should arrive in twenty seconds."
"Copy. I'm in position." Batman jumped into the driver's seat and donned a helmet. He punched a few buttons on the console. The helmet-mounted display showed feeds from the various surveillance cameras around the docks. One SUV pulled up in front of the van, the other behind it.
Batman took slow breaths, keeping his heartbeat steady. He gripped the steering wheel with his left hand. His right index finger hovered over a button on the console. His foot brushed against the gas pedal. He just has to wait for the right moment.
The small convoy drove away from the pier. One of the screens in the HMD showed a virtual map of the Queensland Docks with three red dots indicating Knyazev's vehicles. A brief grin traced Batman's lips. Barbara had a knack for anticipating what information he needed.
She also recognized the potential threat Superman posed to the world, unlike Alfred. Even with the news today, the butler refused to see the alien's mere existence had a destabilizing effect on the world. As if having nuclear weapons weren't bad enough, now governments wanted to build antimatter and graviton weapons. If successful, he doubted the leaders of those nations would limit the use of such devices to combating Superman.
So which happens first? Superman conquers the world, or we blow it up?
"Ten seconds from red line." Oracle's words snapped him out of his reverie.
Batman stomped on the gas, eying the virtual map as the Batmobile shot forward. The convoy neared a red line at one of the intersections.
He twisted the wheel with one hand. Tires screeched as the Batmobile rounded a corner. His right index finger remained over the button on the console.
The first dot crossed the red line.
Batman's finger came down on the button.
His gaze shifted to one of the monitors. A hidden spike strip shot across the road. The van drove across it and wobbled as its tires blew out.
The Batmobile roared through the docks. Both hands on the wheel, Batman whipped around the corner. All three vehicles had stopped. Mercenaries spilled out of them, rifles at the ready. Two from the rear SUV spotted the Batmobile and fired. Bullets sparked off the black, sloped vehicle's armored hide.
Batman fired smoke grenades from the rear launcher. Clouds of gray burst around the mercenaries as he slammed on the brakes. The canopy slid open. He leapt from the Batmobile and into the smoke.
One of the mercenaries cursed in his native language. It sounded like Polish. Batman pinpointed the direction of the voice and summersalted toward it. Through the smoke he saw the silhouette of a human form. Batman sprang to his feet and rammed the heel of his palm into the merc's face. The man stumbled back. Batman launched a sidekick into the merc's stomach. He grunted and collapsed.
A rifle crackled behind him. Batman dropped to his knees. Bullets snapped past, missing him by several feet.
The rifle fired again. He drew a bat-o-rang and threw it in the direction of the gunfire. The dull thud of metal on flesh sounded through the smoke.
The cloud of gray began to dissipate. It became easier to see the rest of Knyazev's men.
And if he could see them, they could see him.
Two more bat-o-rangs zipped through the air. Two more mercs fell. Batman sprinted by the rear SUV when its driver's side door open. A merc scrambled to get out, pistol drawn.
Batman whirled around the kicked the door into the merc. He jerked, the pistol falling from his hand. Batman kicked the door again, the window cracking against the merc's head. He tumbled out of the SUV, unconscious.
Movement to the front. A mercenary brought up his rifle. Batman ducked as the other man opened fire. Bullets cracked overhead. Batman took out a grapple gun and fired it. The cable wrapped around the merc's legs. Batman yanked. The merc fell on his back, the rifle flying from his hands.
Batman bounded over to him and kicked him in the face.
Another merc appeared in front of him, pistol up. Batman knocked the man's gunhand away just as he pulled the trigger. The merc launched a forearm into Batman's face. Pain exploded across his mouth and jaw. Batman blocked it out and rammed a knee into the merc's stomach. He then grabbed the back of the merc's head and slammed his face into the hood of the SUV. He sagged to the ground.
Seven mercs down. Three to go. Four counting Kynazev. Where the hell was –
An engine roared. The lead SUV wheeled to the left, then stopped. Something rose from its roof. Batman's eyes widened when he recognized it.
An M134 minigun. Six barrels. 7.62mm caliber. Capable of firing 6,000 rounds per minute.
And it was aimed right at Batman.
TO BE CONTINUED