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In New York, the location where the Watchtower—built by the Sentry in one strand of Henry's mories—had once stood was now simply another asset owned by Stark Industries.
Though it was not the skyscraper that would later beco the Avengers' headquarters.
It was rely an old office building in Manhattan, where every inch of land was worth a fortune.
The Sentry—the man once praised by the dia as "the first real superhero in history"—had been erased from everyone's awareness.
For Henry, who possessed two sets of mories, this felt deeply unsettling.
At the sa ti, it gave him certain theories about the wish-granting power of the six Infinity Stones.
If this was not rely a degraded wish power produced through Tony Stark exploiting loopholes, then the Infinity Stones likely possessed so kind of "range" limitation.
That limitation being:
The Infinity Stones only held supre authority over people and objects belonging to this universe.
Once they encountered sothing that did not belong to this universe, their control did not necessarily drop to zero—but it beca drastically weaker.
That explained why the entire world seed to have changed overnight, and why the injuries on his body had all recovered.
Yet because the soul of a transmigrator did not fully fall under the wish power's influence, two separate sets of mories still remained in Henry's mind.
As for the damage to his eyes—
The force that caused those injuries seed to originate from another universe.
Therefore, after the wish was made, his eyes had not "returned to normal" along with everything else.
Following that line of reasoning:
What had happened to the Sentry and Phoenix after each took one of his special beam attacks?
The Sentry had died on the spot.
Phoenix had seemingly been gravely injured.
That was also why the X-n had attacked him afterward.
But what happened after that?
Should he visit the Jean Grey School for Gifted Youngsters and investigate?
Standing in the plaza before the office building, Henry habitually analyzed the differences between his two sets of mories.
It resembled the habit he developed shortly after arriving in this world and truly gaining freedom—constantly comparing the differences between his old world and this one.
There was no real aning to doing so.
It rely helped him understand.
At the very least, it prevented ridiculous mistakes like trying to execute a Qing Dynasty official using an imperial sword from the Ming Dynasty.
Thus, the thought of walking directly into the X-n headquarters vanished almost instantly.
Better to avoid those mutants whenever possible.
Experience had already proven that it was not only the X-n who dragged people into disasters.
Even Quicksilver, after leaving the X-n, still dragged people into disasters…
Therefore, mutants as a whole were simply a bunch of walking catastrophes.
Without heat vision, the only way to deal with his beard now was by plucking it out manually.
But Henry did not care enough about his appearance to go that far.
So he simply kept the beard, applying so beard oil to tidy it slightly.
His hair received the sa treatnt.
He combed the sowhat overgrown hair straight back, appearing at the Stark Industries mid-year eting looking like a seventies-era hippie.
The custom gray suit once tailored for him by the fashion witch Cruella de Vil was gone—erased alongside his past with Charlize Theron.
As for his old "one thousand and one Armani navy suits," those had been destroyed during a eting with vampires.
They had been splattered with blood beyond cleaning.
So today, Henry wore another Armani suit—a dark gray n's suit slightly more expensive than the cheap office wear he normally used.
Although bespoke tailoring represented true luxury, Henry had no interest in commissioning custom suits for himself.
Because the destruction rate of clothing on his body was simply too high.
People constantly shot guns at him every few days, blasting holes everywhere.
As long as his attire was not inappropriate, that was enough.
And in terms of comfort, Armani—as a high-end nswear brand—already did excellent work with both fabrics and tailoring.
The biggest difference between Henry now and before was the pair of glasses on his face.
Even though 0.8 vision did not actually require glasses, Henry still wore them because he could not get used to viewing a blurry world.
The glasses added a touch of intellectual refinent to his hippie appearance.
At the mid-year eting, Stark Industries itself remained relatively centralized in terms of stock ownership, though there were still so minor shareholders.
Those people might not influence company operations, but legally, they still possessed the right to understand the corporation's financial condition.
Their social circles clearly gathered closest to the center of the event.
Besides Stark Industries, several non-core companies carrying the "Stark" na had also survived from the wave of corporate restructuring after Howard Stark's death—companies that had failed to find so unfortunate fool willing to take them off the family's hands.
Their shareholders had likewise gathered here.
Ownership in these non-core companies was more dispersed.
Even Tony Stark did not necessarily hold absolute control over them.
Still, since they were non-core industries, full control was not especially important.
Their businesses barely intersected with Stark Industries at all.
Because if they had ford part of the core industrial chain, Stark Industries would have already absorbed them through rgers and restructuring long ago instead of leaving them independent.
Thus, to their shareholders, these companies functioned more like networking platforms connected to Stark Industries.
People hoped to obtain inside information here so their own external businesses might profit from it.
Soone like Henry—whose Stark Pictures was wholly owned by Tony Stark—was actually a rather unique case.
And because Hollywood itself was a relatively closed social circle, the people who approached Henry usually only wanted celebrity gossip.
But discussing gossip alone in a serious business setting was rather dull.
Everyone else talked about opportunities to make money.
Could stories about which celebrity punched soone or slept with soone really help these people get rich?
As a result, Henry's corner was far quieter than most.
Did Henry care?
Tony Stark had invited him here using the phrase "co eat and drink for free," after all.
From several dishes, Henry recognized the cooking style of that black chef, Wesley Washington.
So he freely indulged himself.
"Henry Brown?"
His left cheek bulged because he was chewing a piece of cake.
His right cheek bulged because he had just bitten off half a bagel.
At the mont, Henry resembled a hamster stuffing its cheeks full of food.
When suddenly addressed, he turned toward the speaker with an unintentionally comical expression.
The man before him was an elderly white gentleman dressed impeccably in a suit.
It was obvious that in his younger years he had been extrely strong.
Even at his age, despite wrinkles across his face, he had no belly whatsoever. His limbs remained thick and solid rather than soft and sagging.
Unlike the old-money elites Henry usually encountered, this white-haired old man carried none of that unconscious air of superiority.
Instead, he smiled mildly like a friendly neighborhood uncle, patiently waiting for Henry to swallow his food and put down his plate.
Since soone had greeted him, Henry naturally would not continue stuffing his face while ignoring basic etiquette.
He quickly and politely composed himself, then took the initiative to extend his hand.
"I'm Henry Brown. And you are?"
The old man grasped Henry's hand.
His grip was astonishingly strong—far too powerful for soone his age.
"Grant Rogers," the old man replied.
"Representative of the New York Veterans Foundation."
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