[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman":3,"chapter-marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-219":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1721519,2198,"Chapter 219 - 219 – The Tinkerer","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-219",219,"\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For 20 advanced chapters, visit my Patreon:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Patreon - Twilight_scribe1\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The name \"Tinkerer\" appeared quietly on the Continental's confidential roster of service providers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man behind it — Henry — owed a fair bit to old Charlie Fisher. The grizzled gunslinger had helped him set up shop, even finding a suitable building and personally pitching in to clean and prepare the space.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the two of them worked inside the half-cleared room, Henry asked curiously,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Charlie, you've got the same last name as the hotel manager — Fisher. You two related?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"She's my niece,\" Charlie answered without hesitation. Then, after giving Henry a look-over, he added dryly,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And if you're thinking of asking her out — don't. You'd be the one getting played.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry raised a brow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"You two don't get along?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"We're distant relatives,\" Charlie said, shrugging.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Her branch's the main one — successful, rich, classy. Mine's the poor cousin line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"She looks down on me, and I can't say I blame her. Nothing new under the sun, right? Just because we share a surname doesn't mean we're a happy family.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing his tone flatten, Henry didn't press further. Family matters weren't for outsiders to poke into.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instead, he turned to study the narrow alley shop they were fixing up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Charlie, how'd you even find a place like this?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Charlie shot him an annoyed glare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Wasn't that your requirement?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You wanted a black clinic — can't exactly open one on Main Street, and can't pick some godforsaken spot nobody visits either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"You also said it had to be in South L.A. I oughta ask you — why the hell open in the middle of black and Mexican turf? You worried business'll be too slow?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"That was the idea, yeah. I just didn't think you'd actually pull it off.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Right then, the half-open metal shutter rattled as a few men ducked inside — a group of Black guys. A couple had gold chains and low-hanging jeans, the classic rapper look, but the one leading them was in a pressed suit — trying for \"respectable businessman,\" but the street edge still clung to him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The suited man bumped fists with Charlie.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Old dog,\" he said, voice smooth but with that sharp, percussive street twang. \"This the white boy setting up shop here for the Continental?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"That's him,\" Charlie said. Then turned to Henry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is the local boss — Big O.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't offer a real name; in their world, real names were liabilities. What mattered was the reputation of the moniker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry caught on quick. He stepped forward, hand extended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Big O. Pleasure to meet you. Call me the Tinkerer.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd come up with the codename on the spot — remembering Alaskan Tom's advice: never give your real name to street people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Continental already knew who he was; there was no point pretending there. But out here, caution was a survival instinct.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Big O didn't shake right away. Instead, he said flatly,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"One rule, white boy — no selling drugs. That's my business.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry smiled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"No problem. I patch wounds, set bones, fix whatever's broken.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If somebody's crazy, I can handle that too — though my cure's more… direct.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Crazy, huh?\" Big O raised a brow. \"You treat those too?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Sure,\" Henry said lightly. \"Baseball bat to the head — once if I'm lucky, twice if I'm not.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If that doesn't fix 'em, then only God can.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Big O barked a laugh, showing off two perfect rows of white teeth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Ha! That's my kind of medicine.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He finally clasped Henry's hand, the grip firm, the grin predatory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry couldn't help thinking, How the hell are their teeth so white? Is that genetics or some industrial-strength toothpaste?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Big O glanced toward his crew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Yo, Tinkerer — you need a sign out front. How you wanna do it? My boys can help.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young men were already grinning, pulling spray cans from inside their jackets — street artists eager to tag.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry waved a hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Go for it. Just use the name — Fixman or Tinkerer, whatever looks better. Be creative.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Yo!\" one shouted, and they were out the door in seconds, dropping the shutter to use it as their canvas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry dragged a few clean chairs over for everyone and cracked open some beers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By now, the cleaning was mostly done, and it was time for a break.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though the Los Angeles spring air was still cool, none of them hesitated — beer was beer, year-round.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a long gulp, Henry broke the silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Big O, this is my first time doing something like this. I don't wanna step on anyone's toes. Mind telling me what the local rules are?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Big O set down his can, his tone suddenly businesslike.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"You're Continental, which means neutral. Normally, that puts you off-limits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"But since you're operating on our turf, there are conditions: no drugs, no women. Those are our trades.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Stay in your lane, fix people up when they need it, and we'll treat you like one of us.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If the cops come sniffing, you'll get a heads-up before anything happens.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Got it,\" Henry nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, it was simple. The Continental's trade didn't overlap with street business — that's why they could coexist. If they'd been competing, bullets would already be flying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Charlie chimed in at the right moment:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Listen, Tinkerer. You're free to take outside jobs, but remember — you represent the Continental now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Don't break taboos. If minor trouble comes knocking, talk to Big O first. If that doesn't work, call me or the manager.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Think about who your usual clients'll be. People who can offend them usually don't live long — or they're smart enough not to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"I'll also show you how to mark the area — Continental shooters will recognize the sign instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That way, they'll know there's a service provider nearby and won't start fights here. Locals will catch on too.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Alright,\" Henry said. Then, as if remembering something, he turned to Big O.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"One question — is there… some kind of monthly fee I should be aware of?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"You mean protection money?\" Big O asked, then laughed — a deep, rumbling sound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Nobody really calls it that anymore. When everyone's packing guns, protection doesn't mean much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"These days, we work through business arrangements — partnerships that benefit both sides.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry tilted his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"So in our case…?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before Big O could answer, Charlie said,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"The building's owned by Big O. You'll be paying him rent each month.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah. So that's where the catch was.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry nodded, smiling as the realization sank in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Big O grinned again, flashing those shark-white teeth — trying for friendly, but looking more like a predator baring fangs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>🎉 Power Stone Goal Announcement! 🎉\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I'll release one bonus chapter for every 500 Power Stones we hit!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let me know what should I do\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Your support means everything—let's crush these goals together! Keep voting, and let the stones pile up! 🚀\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>",1197,"2026-06-06T15:31:22.542Z",1,"novelbin.me","4792be6894d8e0773963c7c41490254a0382c0865c52c89b7632c7eef6a46216","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-220","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-218",556,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmarvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-cover.jpg"]