Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

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Barbara was not the type of girl who embarrassed easily.

She immediately pressed herself against Henry, looping her arm through his and squishing soft, indescribable things against him as she said:

"Campus is full of the same old bookworms or those special-admission guys who’ve injected so much steroid their brains are mush.

What’s the point of any of them?

"If I wanted to hook some rich sucker, I’d go to Harvard or Yale.

Judging by your gear, you’re going camping? Perfect timing—take me with you."

Henry didn’t pull his arm back—not because he intended to enjoy the moment, but because he was staring at her with a very strange expression.

Could this girl... dare?

"I already have a companion coming with me.

Maybe you should take a look at them before you decide," he said.

"Companion?" Barbara released his arm, flicked her hair, making it shimmer under the sun. Pride sparkled in her eyes. "Who would say no to a girl like me?"

Henry answered honestly:

"Well... it definitely won’t say no to you.

—After all, you’d make a decent emergency ration."

"—But whether you’d feel the same, that’s another matter."

Just as Barbara was about to latch onto him again, Henry blocked her with a hand.

"Anyway, let me go bring it down first," he said, turning back toward the stairwell of the apartment building.

Barbara watched him leave and finally remembered to wave at Gary, who was lounging nearby in a deck chair, tanning in his usual flamboyant attire.

"Hi, Gary! I’m here to hang out!"

"Summer break already?" Gary asked.

"Yep! School ended at the end of May. One more year and I graduate. I had things to prepare, so I was busy until now. Finally got time to visit."

But just then—

As she remembered Henry saying the word "leash"... and looked at Gary’s expression...

Barbara suddenly realized something terrifying:

Henry might actually be bringing his "pet" camping.

And sure enough—

When Henry stepped out of the building again, he was holding an iron chain attached to a massive tiger—yellow fur striped with black, easily five hundred pounds.

Barbara’s face drained of color.

She stumbled back two steps.

Henry didn’t bring the tiger too close.

He stopped a safe distance away, hauled Katie into his arms like she was a housecat, lifted her front paws, and waved them at Barbara.

"Hello, Poppy! I’m Katie! Nice to meet you."

He puppeted the giant tiger like it was a stuffed toy.

The tiger’s expression screamed pure disgust, head craning backward, refusing to make eye contact like a diva refusing paparazzi.

"H-hello... Katie," Barbara managed, raising her hand stiffly.

Henry didn’t spare her feelings.

He simply guided Katie into the back seat, looped the chain around the reinforced anchor he’d installed in the car.

A big cat might be sweet at home, but outdoors? 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

No one knew what could trigger an attack.

And this wasn’t just any pet—this was a tiger.

If someone got hurt, the regret wouldn’t even be the biggest issue—the legal consequences alone were a nightmare.

Even if Katie didn’t harm anyone, a tiger strolling down a street was a public threat.

And hilariously, this was one of those rare times public paranoia was absolutely reasonable.

So to minimize risk and avoid any accidents, Henry secured Katie thoroughly.

He had no desire to ever face a situation where he might be forced to put her down.

California hadn’t banned big cats yet, but injuries were another matter entirely.

Once Katie was properly restrained, Henry opened both rear windows.

The chain let her poke her head out either side, but not jump out.

Only then did Henry turn toward Barbara—who was still standing at a safe distance.

"I’m mostly taking the tabby cat out," he said. "Still want to come?"

"Tabby?" Barbara stared.

"You’re sure?"

"This little kitty? Harmless. Who could it scare?"

Henry said as he tugged affectionately at Katie’s whiskers.

Katie immediately jerked her head and chomped down on Henry’s whole hand—right up to the palm—then locked eyes with him, pupils narrowing affectionately, chewing without actually hurting him.

Henry’s forehead veins popped, but he forced a smile, pried open her jaws, and withdrew his very wet hand.

"Sometimes she gets my hand all slobbery. Bit annoying to clean," he said casually.

Barbara shook her head violently.

She was just a normal human—no bulletproof skin, and certainly not tiger-bite resistant.

One bite for Henry meant a wet hand.

One bite for her meant... choosing a prosthetic.

If she were here just for a mission, Barbara Morse might have turned tail and run.

But a strange courage bubbled in her chest, and she forced a wobbly smile.

"If I... get familiar with Katie... she won’t bite me, right?"

Hmm.

Did tigers have a "don’t bite acquaintances" instinct?

Henry was still thinking about it.

But he said:

"If you’re free and you still want to come along, I won’t stop you. Katie doesn’t bite people for no reason. I’m just worried most people won’t believe that and freak out.

But..."

His eyes dropped to her outfit.

"...you probably don’t want to hike into the wilderness dressed like that."

The clothes weren’t the problem.

The high heels were.

Those shoes could deliver critical damage if she kicked someone or stepped on them, but they had zero bonuses to mobility.

Henry’s plan was to drive until the road ended, then go deep into the forest to set up camp—he definitely wasn’t settling for some roadside camping ground.

Unwilling to be dismissed, Barbara gritted her teeth.

"Wait for me!"

She grabbed her suitcase, marched straight toward Gary.

"Bathroom. Borrowing it," she barked, storming inside with enough force to murder someone if challenged.

Gary froze, terrified into silence.

Moments later, Barbara emerged—

in full battle mode.

A cropped pale-yellow T-shirt, tied under the bust to reveal smooth, toned abs.

A wide neckline showing one shoulder and a teasingly thin strap.

Ultra-short denim shorts—any shorter and they’d be illegal.

Long, shapely legs with well-trained curves.

And on her feet—

NIKE running shoes with the unmistakable swoosh.

Thanks to Michael Jordan, Nike was rising to rival adidas.

Back in February, she’d been ambushed into a ten-kilometer hike at Griffith Observatory.

They never went, but she wasn’t about to be unprepared again.

Sky, mountains, forest—bring it on.

Barbara posed proudly, soaking in the approving looks from Henry, Gary, and even the surrounding air.

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