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“I can’t,” Match says, blank and toneless. Thad doesn’t like that answer because it’s inconvenient to his plans, so he does the obvious thing, which is ignore it in favor of getting what he wants.
He has plans, like he said.
“I don’t care,” he says irritably, and then snaps a hand out to grab the back of Match’s hand and dig his fingers into it, or at least as much as the combination of half-Kryptonian skin and a skin-tight telekinetic force field allow for. “Either way you’re going to.”
And then while Match is distracted by looking down at his hand in confused bewilderment, Thad vibrates the other one and sticks his fingers straight through the other’s skull.
The bomb implant isn’t even hard to find, much less phase back out with. Though he does have to get rid of it pretty quick after that, obviously.
Well, “quick” by other people’s standards, anyway.
Thad, in fact, has all the time in the world to do it.