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Henry's private eting with Tony Stark ended without resolution.
Neither of them gave a clear refusal, nor a clear agreent.
There was no denying that the position of CEO of Stark Pictures was an attractive lure. And with that young master's boldness, he really would dump the whole company onto Henry's lap and then stop caring altogether.
He kept saying, "Just don't bankrupt it."
But if that really happened one day, Tony would probably laugh at him a few tis and move on.
Even so, Henry didn't dare reach out to take it.
The biggest reason was simple—he was scared of Tony Stark's tendency to act purely on impulse, to care about the head but forget the tail.
Shutting down Stark Industries' weapons division.
The Ultron Project.
Blowing up thirty or forty suits of armor like fireworks.
One after another, all proof of Tony Stark's irrational streak—each accompanied by a massive price tag, which he himself brushed off with an airy attitude.
If Henry got involved, he was afraid he'd be forced to clean up Tony's sses.
Then Iron Man might not even live long enough to see Thanos snap his fingers—let alone reach the one-in-fourteen-million chance at victory.
And surrounding Tony was that circle of watchful eyes.
If Henry stayed too close, wouldn't he expose himself right in their line of sight?
Better to avoid trouble whenever possible.
Compared to that, being on the FBI's list—and the lists of many others—wasn't really a big deal.
Ever since he revealed his abilities directly, he had ntally prepared for this.
Yes, it proved he wasn't like ordinary people.
But being "one in five billion" wasn't the sa as "one in the millions" or "one in the hundreds of thousands."
This world had too many dangerous superpowers and extraordinary species.
A simple "bulletproof body" was barely a ripple in this ocean.
And he didn't have any obvious unusual appearance—he could blend into a crowd easily.
Unless the X-n leaked the true identity of the "Clown Superman"…
But considering the X-n were founded upon the suffering of mutants, if they casually sold out others, that would completely undermine their own identity.
In this regard, he could gamble—Henry felt the odds were in his favor.
If they ever thought he was a threat, they'd co punish the alien themselves, not hand him over to the U.S. military or the governnt.
So as long as he stayed low-key, he could continue living a leisurely life.
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Spring slowly moved toward sumr.
The girls, as if suffocating under winter's heavy coats, impatiently tore themselves free—winter clothes beca spring wear, and the bold ones had already switched to sumr outfits, tossing on a jacket only for early mornings and nights.
As one of the most extravagant cities on Earth, ho of Hollywood, Los Angeles had far more beauties per square ter than most places.
If not beauties, then won dressed to showcase fashion taste—handbags, heels, brands on full display.
Henry didn't stay ho much.
Sotis he carried a cara, wandering like a paparazzo or talent scout, snapping photos of pretty girls.
The era wasn't yet strict about portrait rights—so long as he wasn't too blatant, there was usually no trouble.
He wasn't photographing anything obscene—just street scenes and people.
And if anyone complained, well… pull out the film and expose it.
Evidence gone, case closed.
Sotis he took his sketchbook, found a good angle, and drew street scenery for fun.
If soone lingered sowhere—on a park bench, leaning by a railing—he could sketch a quick portrait with a few strokes.
He couldn't use super-speed out in public, of course, but he'd practiced enough to draw smoothly.
He wandered outside more and more—not only to enjoy this beautiful world he never got to appreciate in his previous life as a wage slave, but also because of the sixty-so thousand dirty dollars he'd gotten.
Those bills couldn't be deposited into the banking system; he needed to spend them quickly to feel safe.
The simplest way was everyday small expenses.
So Henry began a food tour of Los Angeles—street stalls and famous restaurants alike.
He'd done this once when he first ca to LA, but back then he only went where his super nose detected high-quality aromas—guaranteed good food.
This ti he relaxed his standards, entering places with ordinary slls.
As long as the scent wasn't full of artificial chemicals, he'd try it and look for the strengths in the food.
With the lowered bar, he indeed found many restaurants that rivaled the ones he'd chosen before, expanding his personal LA food map.
anwhile, the black clinic in South LA was closed more often.
Especially if soone suspicious was nearby—then Henry would simply shut the door.
He wasn't saving lives to stay alive—it was just part of the Continental deal and a way to gain more clinical practice.
If he stopped entirely, he wouldn't lose anything.
Besides, manager Munee Fisher hadn't exactly dealt with the FBI problem perfectly.
There were still cops or agents who tried making side money by acting like crooked officers.
And honestly, Henry hadn't paid much for this protection—she'd asked for a blood oath, and yet he rely joined the Continental as a freelance service provider.
So sloppy work wasn't her fault.
Henry had already thrown three people into space.
He had no idea how that aftermath was brewing, but one thing he knew—
He should not make more policen or FBI agents disappear.
That would only attract unwanted attention.
Best solution: stay quiet for a while and avoid trouble.
His ho computer upgrades, improving BB the core robot, the tiger Kitty's brainwave translator, CK's activities online—they weren't forgotten.
He had simply slowed the pace.
Everything was still there, no deadlines, no clients pressuring him.
Finishing fast ant nothing.
And so projects had no end anyway—they could continue indefinitely.
Henry's technology already exceeded this era's level, nearly catching up to what he rembered.
Moving forward required new incentives.
For now, his equipnt served his needs well.
Especially CK's released toolkits and his push for Linux developnt—if he didn't slow down, others wouldn't be able to keep up.
He didn't want to perform a one-man show; having a slight advantage was enough.
Kitty's brainwave translator had entered the data collection stage, with initial progress.
Next ca endless gathering, comparison, and correction—making translation more accurate over ti.
It was a grind, not sothing that could be rushed.
No software or hardware upgrade would make a tiger speak English overnight.
So he'd just have to grind.
Now Henry sat in a restaurant, cutting a steak, thinking about his recent progress.
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