[{"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-8":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},1721558,2198,"Chapter 8: Where Am I?","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-8",8,"\u003Cp>Old John's bar wasn't exactly a hotspot. On most days, one man behind the counter was more than enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, he kept Henry around. Let him crash on the old couch in the back and put him to work bussing tables, sweeping floors, taking out the trash—whatever needed doing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In return, Henry got three square meals a day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Which… surprised even him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd always known he had an appetite. But this? This was next-level.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most folks measured steak in ounces. Henry ate in pounds. Whole pounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mashed potatoes—the kind everyone else saw as filler or \"pig slop\"? He'd down an entire pot like it was gourmet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe it was the years of starvation. Maybe it was just biology catching up. Either way, the moment he had access to food, it was like a switch flipped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eat now. Question later.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet, John never said a word. He just kept the meals coming, same gruff silence, same tired shrug.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually, Henry started feeling bad about it. Sure, he had no shame, but he wasn't a freeloader. Not completely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So he worked. Even if the bar was a dusty ghost of its glory days, he made sure it stayed clean. Tables wiped. Ashtrays emptied. Wood floors swept.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't complain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And strangely enough, the longer he stayed, the easier things got.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Language, for one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back home, English was that subject you passed by memorizing vocabulary and praying for multiple choice. He'd been terrible at it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now? It flowed. Reading, writing, speaking it all came as naturally as breathing. Like the language center of his brain had received a god-tier firmware update.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sure, he still had a weird accent. But even those were fading, fast. Between John's grumbling and the local townsfolk's idle bar banter, he was blending in faster than he expected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And he wasn't exactly hiding, either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a place like this a nowhere town in the middle of Alaska every stranger was noticed. Working in John's bar? Made him practically family.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one asked too many questions, but introductions were inevitable. And Henry didn't resist them. He figured it was safer to blend in than act suspicious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for the powers?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yeah. He still had them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Strength. Reflexes. Hyper senses. He was aware of every enhanced ability inside his body but he never flaunted them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Years of being a corporate cog in his past life had taught him the ultimate survival skill:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stay invisible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Don't stand out. Don't draw attention. Just show up, do your job, and make sure no one ever learns your name unless it's on a paycheck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even now with strength that could probably rip through steel he moved with careful, deliberate restraint. No broken chairs. No bent doorknobs. No one ever saw anything unusual.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He walked softly, kept quiet, smiled when necessary, and always let others go first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That wasn't just habit anymore. That was strategy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His hearing could pick up whispers through walls. His vision could read receipts from across the bar. His sense of smell? Sharp enough to catalog every customer's shampoo.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he ignored all of it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because real survival wasn't about power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was about knowing when not to use it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for taste?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Well… that was a mixed bag. Every bite was now an experience. He could tell what oil a fry was cooked in, how long it had sat under a heat lamp, and whether the ketchup had been watered down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sometimes? That sucked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But hey—could be worse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And speaking of worse… there was the question he hadn't stopped asking since he woke up:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What the hell am I?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn't human anymore. Not really.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sunlight made him stronger. Much stronger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The more he soaked in, the more alive he felt. He could practically feel his cells humming, like batteries charging.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hair still black. Eyes now a brilliant blue. White skin like fresh snow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No tail. No full-moon transformations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So… not a Saiyan. Damn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But alien? Definitely. Probably.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd come from space, after all. Crashed in a pod. Strength tied to solar exposure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The more he thought about it, the more one name echoed in his brain:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Superman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or more accurately: Kryptonian.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Which begged a horrifying question:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Did I end up in the wrong franchise?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because everything so far pointed toward something else entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd heard the locals talk. About the Super Soldier. About a man named Steve Rogers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>About Captain America.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And they weren't just rumors. They had photos. Old news clippings. Trading cards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>John had even shown him a yellowing photo—grainy but unmistakable: him in uniform, standing beside a tall, square-jawed figure in red, white, and blue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No way that was fake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This world… this was the real deal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Marvel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And not just Marvel with spandex and Saturday morning cartoons. No, this was the dark, gritty, Cold War shadow-ops Marvel. The kind where mutants existed and people disappeared into underground labs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd read the papers. Listened to gossip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Brotherhood and the X-Men were real.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He remembered the Cuban Missile Crisis getting tangled up with mutant sightings. The Egyptian mutant war in '83. Headlines twisted by politics. Rumors dismissed… but never denied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People talked about vampires and werewolves, too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not the sexy Hollywood kind. The kind that leveled entire towns, left fields full of bodies, and never made the evening news.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or only made the weird news.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The government's response? Vague denials. Half-truths. Carefully crafted ignorance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They weren't trying to suppress the truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were managing panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gun debates raged every year—and never went anywhere. Not because of the usual politics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because in this world? Guns were the only thing between civilians and monsters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry took it all in. Piece by piece. He didn't panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He adapted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Earth… Marvel Edition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And just to put a cherry on top?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The year was 1990.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The location: some no-name Alaskan town.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The country: United States.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And just for fun, when Henry asked John where exactly they were, the old man had looked him straight in the eye and said,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Alaska. Earth. Just in case.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether it was a joke or not, Henry didn't know.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Didn't care, either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>John wasn't dumb. Far from it. The man had buried two sons, outlived two daughters-in-law, and seen more war than Henry could imagine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't care what Henry was, or where he came from.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He just made sure Henry got fed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And reminded him—every once in a while—that he wasn't invisible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Loving the story so far? Want more chapters? Drop a Power Stone to show your support! A quick review would mean the world too.Thanks, everyone! ❤️\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>",1099,"2026-06-06T15:31:22.263Z",1,"novelbin.me","a1924b819729a4c1c019cce8765aed1c5761b99a87584999acbb9abe27099fbc","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-9","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-7",556,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmarvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-cover.jpg"]