Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman Chapter 654: Endless Trouble

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What happened in India was little more than a minor interruption to Henry.

It couldn't disturb his peace of mind, nor did it interfere with his daily life.

New York, however, was another matter entirely.

Henry had originally assumed that after the brat was taken away—technically by the police assisting child welfare services with placing him into custody and care—his world would finally become a little quieter.

To his surprise, less than two weeks later, the little pest reappeared.

His behavior hadn't escalated, but the resentment radiating from him had clearly deepened.

Although the kid hadn't upgraded his methods from rotten eggs and spoiled vegetables to something worse—say, literal balls of human excrement rather than the harmless prank items from fantasy stories—he had at least learned one lesson.

Now, whenever Henry tried contacting child welfare services again, getting the police involved wasn't nearly as easy.

The moment he sensed trouble coming, the brat vanished faster than anyone else.

Under normal circumstances, child welfare agencies would usually send social workers first.

The fact that police officers showed up directly suggested that the kid was already well known to the system.

A repeat offender.

The fact that he resurfaced after less than two weeks strongly suggested he regularly ran away from orphanages or similar institutions.

For a child barely ten years old to be surviving on the streets at that level was, in its own way, impressive.

Unfortunately, this particular talent had dedicated itself entirely to making Henry's life miserable.

More than once, Henry seriously contemplated various methods for making a ten-year-old disappear permanently from the face of the Earth.

The brat wasn't the only problem.

The number of troublemakers appearing around them continued to increase.

Their methods also became progressively more aggressive.

Many incidents had already crossed the line into directly harassing Katharine Hepburn herself.

Using the Kryptonian Fist was certainly an option.

Unfortunately, paparazzi always seemed to be lurking nearby with cameras ready.

Under those circumstances, becoming tomorrow's headline was practically guaranteed.

Who in their right mind would hand journalists such perfect material?

A single photograph.

Then came the stories.

Twisting facts.

Reversing cause and effect.

Calling a deer a horse.

Those were the things reporters excelled at.

The moment someone fell into the trap of trying to prove their innocence, the situation became endless.

As a result, whenever faced with these provocations and suspicious "accidents," Henry's solution was simple:

Call the police.

It was annoying.

But it was still preferable to handling matters privately.

At least there would be witnesses.

One major reason ordinary people feared involving law enforcement wasn't necessarily the American police habit of emptying entire magazines into suspects.

It was the time.

Police involvement consumed time.

If someone had work or other responsibilities, calling the police often felt like creating additional trouble.

For a retired ninety-two-year-old woman, however, that wasn't much of a concern.

Nor was it a concern for the young man looking after her.

They had plenty of time.

Unlike people struggling to make ends meet or worried about getting to work on schedule.

For those people, police involvement could mean lost wages, missed shifts, and direct financial consequences.

Naturally, after calling the police often enough, Henry became familiar with many of the NYPD patrol officers.

The same patrol zones.

The same hours.

Mostly the same officers.

At this point, they practically saw each other every day.

It would have been stranger if they hadn't become acquainted.

Most of the troublemakers usually fled before police arrived.

As a result, officers frequently showed up only to discover that the suspects had already disappeared.

Even then, Henry and Katharine Hepburn never left immediately.

They always remained to provide statements before going their separate ways.

Occasionally, a troublemaker reacted too slowly and failed to escape before the police arrived.

Those individuals ended up at the precinct.

As the complainants, Henry and Katharine naturally had to accompany them and provide formal statements.

According to Katharine Hepburn, she'd visited police stations more frequently during the last two months than during the entirety of her previous life.

Rather than finding the experience unpleasant, she found it fascinating.

She wanted to look at everything.

Being an Academy Award-winning actress, ninety-two years old, and arriving as a victim rather than a suspect came with certain advantages.

The police were hardly going to treat her roughly.

If anything happened to her, who exactly did they think the media would destroy afterward?

Still, every visit ended the same way.

They were escorted into Police Commissioner George Stacy's office.

Sometimes Stacy personally took their statements.

Other times he delegated the task to one of his officers.

This wasn't a special privilege granted because of Katharine Hepburn's fame.

It was because of Katie.

If they weren't brought into Stacy's office, then the department would have to allow a tiger to remain inside the public areas of the police station.

That prospect made everyone nervous.

The prisoners.

The officers.

Pretty much everyone.

George Stacy was essentially sacrificing himself for the greater good.

Over time, Henry and Katharine Hepburn became quite familiar with him.

"George, sorry to trouble you again."

That was usually how their visits began.

Katie automatically walked over to her preferred corner of the office and settled down comfortably.

The senior NYPD official looked helpless.

"So what's today's situation?"

"Same as always. Category Three."

Henry answered casually.

"Mhm."

Stacy opened a drawer and pulled out a binder.

After flipping through it, he removed several sheets of paper and handed them to the patrol officer who had escorted the visitors inside.

"Make copies of these forms and update the names and locations for today's incident."

"Yes, sir."

Watching this process, Henry couldn't help commenting:

"You've actually turned our statements into templates.

"That really shows how uncreative these people are.

"At this point, I suspect the masterminds only have a handful of tricks and just keep rotating through them."

The commissioner sighed.

"You seem to know who's behind all this.

"Have you considered dealing with the problem directly?

"You do realize most of those kids would receive little more than community service even if they're caught."

Most of the troublemakers were minors.

They didn't use weapons.

They rarely engaged in actual violence.

They generally focused on harassment rather than assault.

If Henry overreacted, the nearby paparazzi would immediately capture everything.

And if photographers were present, there were almost certainly lawyers waiting somewhere in the background.

One wrong move and the resulting lawsuits would never end.

Henry sighed.

"If solving it were that easy, I'd already have done it.

"Unfortunately, this isn't the sort of problem that disappears just because I surrender."

George Stacy didn't possess the clearance necessary to know everything about Henry's circumstances.

But working within law enforcement, he wasn't completely ignorant either.

From his perspective, there wasn't much useful advice he could offer.

He certainly couldn't recommend beating up the troublemakers before calling the police.

Suddenly, Stacy turned toward the elderly actress.

"Mrs. Hepburn—"

"Katharine."

The old woman didn't even look up from petting Katie's head.

Her voice carried obvious displeasure.

"Right. Katharine."

Only then did she look pleased.

"What is it, George?"

"My daughter Gwen has a school project."

His expression softened immediately.

"They're supposed to interview a notable public figure.

"Would it be alright if she interviewed you?"

"Gwen?"

Katharine thought for a moment.

"Is she the girl I saw here before? The one who came looking for you?"

"That's right."

George smiled proudly.

"My only daughter.

"She attends Midtown High School.

"Her grades are excellent, and she's very active in extracurricular activities.

"She's hoping to get into a good university someday."

Katharine immediately nodded.

"Of course.

"In fact, why don't I invite her over for afternoon tea?

"Henry makes wonderful pastries."

George looked genuinely delighted.

"Oh, that would be wonderful."

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