Chapter 209: The Slacker's Iron Body

Just as Henry had guessed, this Senator Mike Liddle Horton was in deep trouble and needed a meat shield to take the bullets.

As for the intelligence regarding his own ability, figures above a certain level surely knew such a person existed. This was hardly surprising, given he had displayed it before Alex Hart, a giant of the financial world.

During the days he spent beside Lady He Ben, many people of high standing had extended olive branches, but Henry simply hadn't agreed. These people were also restrained enough not to use excessive measures, for they clearly understood the stakes involved.

Only this Mr. Senator failed to grasp the situation; perhaps because he was desperate, he used such tactics to "invite" Henry here.

The annual salary of eighty thousand dollars he offered seemed like a lot, nearly double the average American wage of this era.

But when Henry previously served as Audrey He Ben's assistant, he was already earning ten thousand dollars. And that was ten thousand after tax; the big movie star was far more generous.

However, no matter what salary this Senator offered, Henry did not want the job. It had nothing to do with the amount of money, but rather his own mood.

Although he could rely on his tough head to force his way out, Henry decided to stay and watch the show.

On one hand, forcing his way out would bring other side effects and might expose other abilities. But by staying, he could also teach the other spectators a lesson, showing them what "Who cares if heaven and earth are big? I am the one who decides!" truly means.

Henry did not yet know exactly what trouble the fat Senator was involved in.

Though he was under house arrest in the Senator's aide's lounge, he could still use his super ability to see and hear the commotion inside. He only noticed that everyone was on edge, treating every bush as an enemy soldier, as if an attack could come at any moment.

And of course, the aide's lounge did not contain only Henry. People were watching him constantly, forbidding him from leaving.

Fortunately, there was food, drink, a restroom, and a bed to lie down and nap in the lounge. Henry acted like nothing was wrong: he ate when hungry, drank when thirsty, relieved himself whenever needed, and slept on the bed when tired, causing no trouble for others.

Finally, during a phone call, Henry heard a clue. The matter was related to the riots in Los Angeles last year.

This black fat Senator had secretly supported certain black groups in causing trouble, and even after it escalated into riots, he had fanned the flames on national television. He hoped to climb higher by riding this momentum.

Even after the riots were suppressed, he did not give up supporting certain black groups, keeping the aftermath rippling and preventing true peace.

Such an attitude had already angered some people. The phone call was not a warning, but a final ultimatum.

Standing on the cliff of power, did the fat Senator have any option to retreat?

In fact, he knew clearly that the things he had done had already cut off all his escape routes. If he dared to take a step back, the people he had supported would push him off the cliff.

So he could only continue, gambling that he could pass this hurdle and climb higher. If he failed, at least he would be a martyr like Dr. Martin Luther King; that was better than being a traitor, despised by all.

Henry did not believe the other party on the phone was some agent of justice. Basically, both sides were just taking different stances on the same issue. The fat Senator's interests harmed theirs, so they stood up to denounce him.

Simply put, it was dogs biting dogs, leaving a mouthful of fur.

This has nothing to do with us Great Kryptonians; Henry ate his fill and slept peacefully.

The reason he could stay was that these days were much better than being imprisoned in Siberia...

However, this rare comfortable period did not last long. On the second night of Henry's house arrest, in the middle of the night, the sound of gunshots rang out like a stone thrown into water, stirring up countless waves.

The people resting in the lounge immediately jumped up, grabbed the suit jackets placed by the beds, and rushed out. Everyone kept a gun within reach and hadn't changed into comfortable pajamas, looking ready for battle at any moment, which allowed them to move so quickly.

But Henry was quite uncooperative, lying on the bed and refusing to pay any attention to the fierce gunfight raging outside.

"Kid, get up. It's time for you to play your part!" someone shook Henry, saying in a panic.

Henry only responded with a middle finger, held straight and strong, not loose or limp. Then he rolled up the blanket to cover his head and continued to ignore the chaos outside.

Suddenly, someone pressed a gun against his head and said viciously, "Do you believe that if you don't get up, you'll sleep here forever?"

Henry pulled down the blanket, looked at the person threatening him with sleepy eyes, and replied with just one sentence: "Fuck, you idiot." Then he immediately opened his mouth and snored loudly again.

The person threatening Henry with the gun was also a ruthless character; without thinking twice, he fired a shot! Then the bullet ricocheted...

Everyone then remembered why the Senator had captured this man to serve as an aide. It wasn't for his ability to block bullets; he was bulletproof.

The person who had just fired, nearly hit by the ricochet, cursed: "Damn mutant."

Henry was too lazy to correct him and continued trying to fall asleep.

Naturally, this appearance enraged others. The one who fired grabbed Henry's hair, lifted him up, and then punched down hard! The impact made someone scream out in pain.

The one screaming in pain was certainly not Henry, who was in a daze; he half-opened his confused eyes and asked, "Did a mosquito just bite?"

But the person who hit him had a fist covered in fresh blood, with a clear open fracture injury. Seeing that he could barely even fire a gun, he kept cursing loudly.

Seeing such a miserable situation, the others had no better means to threaten Henry, so the leader assigned two of the less experienced ones nearby, saying, "Forget it, you two carry him and move him to the Senator's side to block bullets."

The people pointed out were naturally frowning, but they had no choice but to comply.

Henry, of course, was extremely uncooperative, going completely limp and letting others handle him.

The two men, one on each side, grabbed Henry's shoulders, wrapped their arms around his neck, and only then managed to struggle to lift the two-hundred-pound man.

If Henry had any self-awareness and walked along, the effort for the two men on the side would have been less. But Henry insisted on being dragged, not moving an inch. This was far more troublesome than simply dragging a dead weight.

And the unlucky one who had broken his own fist punching someone had his wound simply wrapped in gauze, holding a gun in one hand, following the crowd with a hateful look in his eyes.

He actually intended to kill this uncooperative man directly, but unfortunately, he didn't have a suitable weapon in hand. Right now, he was already pondering how to get a larger-caliber firearm to put a hole in this damn bastard.

This is very simple American thinking: if the armor isn't penetrated, it just means the caliber isn't big enough. If caliber can't solve the problem, then consider the yield!

(End of Chapter)