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Although Henry did not know what relationship the New York Veterans Foundation had with the official U.S. Veterans Association, he did know that this foundation was one of Stark Industries' shareholders and possessed a seat on the board of directors.
When he first joined Stark Pictures, Henry had researched all publicly available information regarding the various companies carrying the "Stark" na.
At the very least, he needed to know what resources he could access.
Especially after Tony Stark listed all his companies publicly, legal disclosure requirents had revealed much more information, including the ownership structure of Stark Industries.
This had been to help Henry understand Stark Industries' connections.
Otherwise, he might accidentally offend soone important and end up flooding the Dragon King's temple.
Tracing small private shareholders was difficult, but major shareholders holding board seats were impossible to hide.
Still, all Henry had managed to uncover was the existence of the New York Veterans Foundation itself.
Its deeper background remained extrely mysterious.
And…
Behind his glasses, Henry narrowed his eyes slightly—a sowhat impolite gesture.
The man looked familiar.
Then Henry finally rembered where he had seen him before.
Roughly eight years ago, at Howard Stark's funeral.
The old man had stood together with Cyclops, Old White, and the others beside an elderly woman.
Which ant—
Was he also part of SHIELD?
And combined with the surna "Rogers," it was difficult not to think of a certain captain.
"A pleasure to et you, Mr. Rogers," Henry greeted politely while casually adding,
"Back then, Timothy Dugan helped out quite a bit and solved a troubleso situation for ."
Henry referred to the incident where the Skrulls had tried transporting him and Barbara Morse sowhere unknown. He had killed one alien and badly injured another before Timothy Dugan's Howling Commandos arrived by helicopter to take the dead and wounded Skrulls away.
Faced with that subtle probing, Grant Rogers calmly released Henry's hand and replied politely:
"Dugan and I are old comrades, but that's all. I'm not very familiar with their later work."
"To put it bluntly, you could say I beca a deserter."
"The only fortunate thing is that the real war already ended. Though the world still has conflicts, the people protecting it are doing well enough. There's no longer a need to mobilize the entire nation the way we did during the war."
Henry smiled.
"And that's why you beca the representative of the Veterans Foundation?"
"Heh, yes."
"Soone has to prepare a place for them to return to."
"It's tragic when a person remains on the battlefield…"
"But it's even sadder when only the heart remains there."
The old veteran smiled with open-hearted ease.
Curiosity scratched at Henry's mind like a restless kitten, but he still abandoned the urge to directly ask whether this old man was truly that Captain.
So things, once spoken aloud, could never be taken back.
A lot of matters worked that way.
You understood without exposing them.
Because once exposed, there was no turning back.
So Henry changed the subject.
"Mr. Rogers, did you co looking for because you want to find acting opportunities for so veterans?"
"Oh? Why would you think that?"
"Otherwise, as the CEO of Stark Pictures, I don't really have much other value."
"Ohhh—"
Henry suddenly acted enlightened, leaned closer to the old white man, and whispered conspiratorially:
"—Or are you hoping for an autograph from so female celebrity? Maybe a romantic encounter?"
Stepping back again, Henry wore an utterly shaless grin.
"If it's autographs, I can probably help."
"But I don't do pimp work. I don't even get those opportunities myself."
Faced with such deliberate misunderstanding, the old white man—who had clearly weathered countless storms in life—naturally was not cornered speechless.
He smoothly sidestepped the increasingly dangerous topic and said naturally:
"I ca because you're special."
"Because I'm a mutant?"
His body of steel was already semi-public knowledge.
So Henry habitually used the identity of a "mutant" as cover during daily life.
Though that disguise probably would not remain useful much longer.
Society's atmosphere had already begun shifting toward tension between mutants and ordinary humans, while Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants was clearly becoming active.
Just this year alone, Henry had already encountered several mutants personally showing up to beg him for help.
Though they wrapped their words in righteous rhetoric, in reality they simply wanted money and jobs—as though this successful mutant sohow owed all fellow mutants support.
The subtle changes in society did not seem to affect the old veteran's views at all.
Nor did he appear to regard Henry primarily as a mutant.
Grant Rogers said aningfully:
"Because in my mories, I've never t you before."
"And because of you, certain things beca different."
"So… should I stay far away?"
"That sounds like dialogue from a girl trying to chase away won surrounding her boyfriend," Henry joked.
The old white man laughed and shook his head.
"Haha, nothing that serious."
"I simply hope these changes are good things—and that they continue."
Once Henry got into the mood for arguing, he naturally could not resist debating:
"What counts as a good thing?"
"I think everything in this world follows fixed balances. If soone gains more, soone else must inevitably lose more."
"In the end, what you consider 'good' only seems good because you personally benefited from it."
"If today you were the one suffering losses, would you still believe what I did was a good thing?"
The old man neither hurried to refute him nor expressed agreent.
Instead, he responded calmly:
"Hmm. That's an interesting perspective."
"I've never considered things from that angle before."
Hearing the old white man speaking with the tone of soone viewing matters from a higher vantage point, Henry imdiately understood:
This type of person was stubborn.
Not soone whose beliefs changed easily.
At the sa ti, he also was not aggressively trying to persuade others.
Soft on the outside, iron underneath.
Then Grant Rogers suddenly asked:
"Do you not believe in pure goodwill?"
"I believe in foolish and self-righteous goodwill."
"People like that are more hateful than those who simply commit evil."
"Oh? How so?"
"Mr. Rogers, are you familiar with Buddhism?"
"A little."
Henry said:
"There's a story in Buddhism."
"One day, the Buddha encountered a hawk attacking a rabbit. The rabbit begged the Buddha for help, and the Buddha indeed intervened."
"He told the hawk: 'All living beings should possess compassion. Spare this rabbit.'"
"But the hawk replied: 'I am a bird that survives by eating at. I cannot satisfy my hunger with plants or fruit. If I spare this rabbit today, then I will starve to death. Would that also count as compassion in your eyes?'"
"After hearing this, the Buddha cut flesh from his own thigh with a knife and told the hawk: 'Eat this instead and spare the rabbit.'"
"Most people's kindness only reaches the stage of persuading the hawk to release the rabbit."
"They are unwilling to sacrifice themselves in order to save both the hawk and the rabbit."
"They don't care—or simply refuse to understand—whether the hawk might starve to death without eating the rabbit."
"They believe that as long as they saved the rabbit, they have done a good deed. Therefore they stubbornly prevent the hawk from eating it."
"So tell , Mr. Rogers…"
"Is that kind of goodwill truly a good thing?"
"If you cannot cut your own flesh to feed the hawk, then perhaps from the beginning it would be better not to display that so-called kindness at all?"
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