Michael's foray into Metropolis was less a hostile takeover and more a strategic dismantling, like a surgeon excising a tumor with minimal collateral damage. He targeted Luthor's vulnerabilities with surgical precision: the exploited research teams yearning for ethical leadership, the toxic waste disposal sites conveniently overlooked by LexCorp's "environmental initiatives," the labyrinthine network of offshore accounts ripe for exposure.
Using encrypted channels that would make even Batman's head spin (protocols he'd cracked during tedious hours deciphering enemy communications on Lian Yu), Michael fed meticulously compiled dossiers to muckraking journalists and fiercely independent regulatory agencies. The ensuing scandals painted Luthor not as a visionary, but as a predator in a tailored suit.
At a Metropolis charity gala, amidst the forced smiles and strained pleasantries, Michael engaged Luthor in a carefully choreographed exchange. "Lex," he began, his tone oozing false camaraderie, "your advancements in robotics are… terrifyingly impressive. One almost expects them to develop a conscience."
Luthor chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Conscience is a weakness, Queen. A liability in the pursuit of progress. Something you'll learn eventually."
Michael's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Perhaps. Or perhaps true progress lies in understanding the… unforeseen consequences of unchecked ambition." He'd already begun subtly shorting LexCorp stock, a silent bet on Luthor's impending downfall.