Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

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The car driving into the estate did not stop in front of the manor’s main building.

Instead, it circled around to the back and halted before a corrugated metal factory that utterly ruined the manor’s elegant scenery.

After getting out of the car, Henry stared at the structure. It looked like some grotesque stitched-together monstrosity—an extra section tacked onto the east side, another patchwork addition on the west. The heights were inconsistent, and even the paint on the metal sheets varied in age and color.

The crude thing made Henry feel, for a moment, like he’d arrived in some third-world country.

Still, the rolling steel doors were surprisingly advanced—fast and remarkably quiet.

When the doors fully lifted, the interior was nothing like the dark, filthy workshop he expected.

Instead, it was bright and spotless.

Part of it was a laboratory area filled with various mechanical equipment, while another smaller section contained all sorts of fitness machines and a regulation boxing ring.

Aside from the designated laboratory workspaces being a little messy, the rest of the place was so clean it hardly seemed like territory occupied by men.

Tony Stark—the man who had summoned him here—was wearing a sleeveless tank top, twelve-ounce boxing gloves, and headgear, currently sparring evenly in the ring with his chief bodyguard, Happy Hogan.

The moment they noticed Henry entering, the two stopped fighting.

Assistants immediately came over to wipe sweat and hand them water. Boxing gloves made such things inconvenient to do personally.

Standing in the ring, Tony Stark rested one foot on the ropes and looked down at the newly arrived guest.

"Get up here. One round?"

"I don’t know boxing, and I don’t like fighting."

What was the point of a sport where one punch could instantly end the match? The only thing worth thinking about would be how to hold back properly.

Tony Stark let someone remove his gloves while saying, "I figured you’d use your bulletproof trait to properly learn a few ways to beat people up."

"Why bother? If you get used to solving problems with violence, then you just become a street thug. That kind of shallow violence is the only method they understand. There are always better ways to solve problems."

"For example?"

"Someone once taught me that, for someone like me, the best tactic is carrying a high-capacity submachine gun and charging straight at the enemy with my head down. Once I get close enough, I just spray them with bullets. No living person survives that."

"...Hey. Who was it that just said violence can’t solve problems?"

"But it can solve the people creating the problems. What I object to is merely beating someone up and stopping there."

Did he know how troublesome it was for a Kryptonian to hold back just enough?

So either don’t do it at all, or go all the way.

It was just that most situations never escalated to the point where going all the way was necessary, which was why he usually chose not to act.

Rubbing his temples, Tony Stark muttered to himself, "Talking too much with someone like this makes me feel stupider. Endure it. Just endure it."

Henry ignored whether Tony Stark was currently questioning his entire life and simply asked:

"Why’d you drag me here this early in the morning?"

"Early morning?"

Tony Stark glanced at the wall clock. It was practically lunchtime already.

In the end, he gave up arguing with this bizarrely wired individual.

After climbing out of the ring and changing out of his sweat-soaked clothes, he said, "Follow me."

Other people naturally handled cleaning up the training area afterward.

Tony Stark led him toward another old single-story high-ceilinged building beside the main residence.

Although the exterior looked old-fashioned, the interior was an extremely modern garage filled with advanced technology.

Judging by the arrangement and preservation methods, calling it a vehicle museum would probably have been more accurate.

Nearly every car inside was a high-priced antique automobile.

These vehicles had already been expensive in their own era, and today they were worth even more.

Porsches and Ferraris barely counted as low-tier entries here. Many of the cars were actual race vehicles from professional tracks.

Whether they had truly been retired and moved here or were simply replicas with matching paint jobs was unclear.

Given the Stark family’s status, they probably wouldn’t cheap out with replicas.

The possibility that these were the real race cars was much higher.

So... was this supposed to be showing off?

Tony Stark said, "Every car here still runs. They were all the old man’s collection before he died. That ancient wreck of yours really irritates my eyes, so it’s time you replaced it. Pick whichever one you like and drive it away. Saves me the trouble of figuring out what to do with them."

"Ancient wreck?"

Henry gave the young master a sidelong glance.

"My Cadillac is younger than most of the cars here, isn’t it? What’s with that attitude like you’re giving away scrap metal? And why are you suddenly giving me stuff? What are you plotting?"

"It’s your reward for Titanic. With that kind of return on investment, I’d look stingy if I didn’t give you something. No wonder so many people want to strike gold in Hollywood. Do you think I should increase my investments?"

Henry scoffed at the young master’s words.

"Let me give you two numbers. In 1997, Hollywood’s total North American box office revenue was around six billion dollars.

"That number depends on things like how many showings a theater can run in a day and how many seats it has, so growth potential isn’t actually that high. There’s a hard limit. Plus there are attendance gaps between weekdays and weekends, daytime and evening screenings, so getting close to that upper limit isn’t likely.

"But that same year, around 310 movies were released theatrically. The average production and marketing cost was about 59.7 million dollars.

"That means total production plus promotional costs reached roughly 18.5 billion dollars.

"In other words, Hollywood only recovers about one-third of its costs through theaters alone. Everything else has to be recouped through videotapes, rental markets, and other channels, which take forever to pay back. Or through merchandise sales.

"Losing money is the norm. Only a few lucky people hit it big like winning the lottery. If you expect to keep encountering movies like Titanic, you’ll eventually end up like those gamblers who lose everything and start begging on the streets."

Having a bucket of cold water dumped over him, Tony Stark glared unhappily at the man he himself had invited over.

How many times had he wanted to strangle this guy already?

Later he was definitely going to officially launch that special armor-piercing ammunition project designed for high-defense targets. Imagining it wasn’t enough anymore.

Completely unconcerned with the young master’s feelings, Henry wandered through the garage inspecting cars while continuing his sarcastic commentary.

"And my only requirements for a car are four wheels and an engine that moves when I hit the gas.

"Driving my old Cadillac around town means one, I don’t have to worry about scratches or dents from other people. And two, I don’t have to worry about being targeted as some rich sucker.

"Even if you gave me every car here, is there a single one I’d actually dare drive on public roads?

"Don’t you think adding this kind of meaningless trouble to life is just—oh... motherfucker! Why is this thing here?"

Henry froze in stunned disbelief before one particular vehicle, unable to move for a long while.

It was a specially modified black Mercedes-Benz W31 Type G4—a monstrous six-wheeled machine with a 24-cylinder engine.

The driver’s cabin used the stylish design language of the Mercedes-Benz 540K, featuring a four-seat convertible layout.

Twenty-five feet long.

Eight feet wide.

Even larger than the original W31.

Most importantly, the Mercedes hood ornament at the front—the iconic three-pointed star—had been replaced with the emblem of a six-tentacled octopus skull.

The symbol of HYDRA.

Don’t talk about HYDRA being some secret organization normal people wouldn’t recognize.

In this world’s version of World War II, HYDRA—as Captain America’s greatest enemy—was just as widely known as the Nazi swastika.

Seeing Henry’s speechless expression, Tony Stark felt as though he had finally vented a huge breath of frustration. His mood instantly improved.

Showing off smugly, he said:

"Want this car? I said you could pick anything here, and I meant anything. If you want it, just say so."

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