Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

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Henry asked curiously, "You two haven’t just been standing here the whole time, have you?"

"From experience, this is the best spot," Horace Barden replied.

Jasper nodded in agreement. "At times like this, Cruella’s extremely busy. If she suddenly needs something and can’t find us, she’ll be furious.

"But if we stick too close and get in her way, she’ll also be furious. So standing here is safest—easy to call, but not in the way."

Henry chuckled. "Sounds like Her Majesty is quite the tyrant."

The two Bardens exchanged knowing smiles.

After giving Jasper a quick once-over, Henry asked, "Any aftereffects from that day? Feeling alright?"

Since vampire matters couldn’t be discussed openly, Henry kept it vague. Jasper understood immediately and smiled.

"No problem. I can still walk under sunlight, at least."

"Sorry. You got dragged into that because of me."

"But you also helped me," Jasper replied.

Being dragged into danger naturally left some resentment—but he understood the situation. Henry had warned him of the risks from the start, and when things went bad, he didn’t abandon him.

Even if Henry hadn’t shown up personally at the most critical moment—getting the right people for the job was better than showing up uselessly.

Having grown up on the streets, Jasper understood that well.

Still, curiosity got the better of him. Leaning closer, he asked in a low voice:

"Those people... you knew them?"

Henry was a bit surprised.

Most people, after encountering something dangerous, would want to stay as far away as possible. Especially when it came to vampires—legendary creatures of the dark.

Yet Jasper was asking about them.

Another vampire romantic? Dreaming of that fake immortality?

Still, Henry answered.

He pulled out a Continental gold coin from his pocket, briefly showing it to the Bardens before slipping it away again.

"I contacted them through this. You recognize it?"

"Ah... I see." Jasper nodded.

Horace, however, looked confused. "What is that coin?"

Jasper hinted instead of saying it outright. "Back when we were still on the streets... remember the group that used gold coins for transactions?"

"Oh—you mean the—"

Jasper clamped a hand over his mouth. "You know, so don’t say it."

The shorter man’s eyes widened. He nodded quickly, and only then did Jasper let go.

Henry leaned in slightly. "Why ask about them?"

Jasper replied quietly, "You know—those creatures are way more common in Europe than in the States. I just want to know who to turn to if something happens here.

"But without coins... that route’s probably closed to me."

Without hesitation, Henry took out his coin and pressed it into Jasper’s hand.

"Take it. If you ever need to, use it to stay a night at the Continental. It’s neutral ground—no business allowed. That should buy you enough time to ask for help."

"Are you sure?" Jasper asked—but his grip tightened immediately, clearly not intending to give it back.

"I only have one on me, so take it. But remember—one coin, one night. Use it carefully. I’ll get you more when I can. These things can’t be mailed."

"Thanks." Jasper didn’t stand on ceremony. He pocketed it right away.

Henry added, "But you should also know—those creatures are part of the hotel’s upper ranks. They won’t break the rules, but confidentiality isn’t one of them. Information always has a price."

"I understand."

"Still, you don’t need to worry too much. Same species, different territories. I don’t have conflicts with the ones here."

Jasper nodded.

At first, he’d seen Henry as nothing more than a lucky guy—someone who suddenly rose to power while surrounded by beautiful women.

But now?

Henry had saved him—and had access to Continental gold coins. That meant his past wasn’t as clean-cut as it looked.

For someone like Jasper, who grew up as a street thief, that made Henry feel a lot more... relatable.

---

"JASPER! HORACE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

The sudden shout made both men stiffen. They immediately dashed over.

"What is it?"

"Jewelry case. Tie rack," Cruella said curtly.

They instantly understood and moved to fetch the items.

Meanwhile, Henry followed their line of sight—

—and froze.

His girl had been completely stripped by Cruella’s assistants and dressed in a full menswear outfit.

Stunned, Henry walked over to Charlize—who looked equally stunned.

Makeup artists and stylists were working on her face and hair.

"What’s going on?"

Charlize clenched her teeth. "I got played."

"You’re walking the runway? In a menswear show?" Henry asked, incredulous.

"...If I’d brought Katie—"

Henry blinked. Was she serious?

"—I’d have let her loose to bite that woman to death!"

...Alright. She really had picked up his style.

If you don’t have to dirty your own hands—don’t.

As for who she meant? That didn’t even need asking.

In later years, gender-fluid runway casting would be normal—models crossing between menswear and womenswear shows without issue.

But this was the 90s.

Even mentioning homosexuality openly was still taboo.

Runways were strictly divided. Crossing over wasn’t just unusual—it risked stepping on someone else’s livelihood.

Looking at Charlize’s perfectly tailored outfit, Henry sighed.

"This was planned. No way they just happened to have clothes in your exact size."

Charlize, currently being patted with powder, couldn’t even open her mouth to curse.

From behind came Cruella’s voice:

"Move. Don’t get in my way! I gave her the finale—she should be thanking me. Do you even know how to spell it? T-H-A-N-K-S. Or do you only know ’Bedankt’?"

"Bedankt" was Dutch for "thank you."

For someone whose native language was English and second language French, Cruella deliberately using Dutch made her target obvious.

Charlize finally gave up worrying about powder getting in her mouth.

A stream of Afrikaans curses burst out.

To make matters worse—

The $100 hairstyle she’d just gotten in Los Angeles had been completely ruined by the stylists here.

If not for the setting, she might have screamed.

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