Chapter 69: Dismissal

"I'm sorry to deliver this news to you, Henry."

This was the first sentence the Kryptonian who had crossed over into this world heard when facing the big star.

Shi Difen Seagal stood solemnly before Henry and said: "We're aware of the incident in the dining area yesterday. Regardless of the circumstances, you did utter disrespectful words."

"Although Mr. Stark didn't make such a request, other producers believe your continued presence on the team hinders the film's production."

"After all, securing the USS Missouri as a filming location would have been impossible without Mr. Stark's assistance. If another conflict arises, it won't benefit anyone. You can agree with that, can't you?"

Mr. Stark?

Motherfucker!

In an instant, Henry, bewildered, pieced together the entire chain of events.

In this world, in America, only two men named Stark are held in such high regard: one is Howard Stark, the genius scientist and entrepreneur who has been active since World War II; the other, of course, is Tony Stark, the future owner of Stark Industries.

So the bastard who snatched my burger yesterday was Tony Stark. And I cursed him out—well, I deserved it.

With that attitude, I didn't even land a Kryptonian iron fist on him—clearly, the protagonist's luck was protecting him!

Henry, now clear-headed, said solemnly: "I understand, Mr. Seagal. So what happens now?"

Shi Difen Seagal pulled out a check and said: "Your employment ends today. This is your final salary settlement. If there's any issue with the amount, you can go to accounting."

Henry took the check without hesitation. His position on the production team had always been that of a disposable extra. Insisting on staying and citing the contract would only make everyone look bad.

Seeing how pragmatic the man was, Shi Difen Seagal breathed a sigh of relief. He shook Henry's hand and said: "I'm sorry we have to handle it this way."

"Honestly, I had high hopes for you. Your fight scenes with me were better than anyone else's. I even considered signing you to my personal team. It's a shame this happened today. I hope we get another chance to work together."

Henry said: "Thank you, Mr. Seagal."

Whether polite or sincere, the big star was always busier than anyone else. As soon as Shi Difen Seagal finished speaking, he left. As for Henry, someone would be watching him depart—and making sure he caused no trouble.

After changing out of the villain's henchman costume in the dressing room, Henry dressed casually and prepared to leave. As he passed the dining area, he saw Chef Blackie directing staff to clean up after breakfast. He decided to say hello before going.

Henry turned to the two security guards trailing him: "Hey, guys. I'm gonna chat with Chef for a bit, then head back to the hotel to pack up and leave. Okay with you?"

These two big men had smoked with Henry before—they were buddies.

They exchanged a glance and said: "Bro, don't hang around too long. No female lead scenes this morning, so you probably won't run into him again anytime soon. You've got to promise not to cause trouble—we've got to answer to the producers."

"Promise not to cause trouble," Henry swore, placing a hand over his heart.

The guards' implication was clear enough: whether the female lead had no morning scenes or they'd been rearranged, it was tied to that young master. But that wasn't Henry's concern anymore.

Henry walked over and gave the black chef a fist bump. This African-American, whose race naturally carried a rap rhythm, said warmly: "Why didn't you show up for breakfast this morning, bro?"

"I met with the big star, Mr. Shi Difen Seagal," Henry replied honestly.

Normally this would've been good news, but from Henry's lack of smiles, Chef Blackie sensed something was off. He asked: "What's wrong, bro?"

Henry pulled out the check and waved it. "My job ends today. I don't have to come back tomorrow."

"How could they do that?"

"Why not? The contract's termination clause exists precisely for times like this," Henry said, taking it in stride.

He patted his chest pocket where the check lay. "Besides, they followed the rules—didn't deduct a single cent. I've got no reason to cause trouble."

Henry remembered the contract details perfectly. His daily wage plus the production team's severance payment matched the check's amount exactly—no flaws to be found.

"Then they…" He started to ask why, but Chef Blackie suddenly widened his eyes. "Wait—was it because of yesterday's thing?"

"Yeah. I pissed off the Stark kid."

"You know who he is now?"

"Just now," Henry said, looking innocent.

"But I pleaded for you yesterday! Mr. Stark even said he wouldn't press charges. Was there some kind of misunderstanding?" Chef Blackie protested.

Henry was first surprised by Blackie's loyalty, then furious at Tony Stark for breaking his word—but after a moment's thought, he realized things weren't that simple.

Henry said: "It probably wasn't the young master who wanted to pursue this. Otherwise, he'd have shown up himself and humiliated me to his heart's content. But when I met Mr. Seagal, it was all business—polite, even."

"Then what happened?"

"I think the producers just didn't want me clashing with the young master again, so they kicked me out. If that Stark kid provided the ship, then he's important. Compared to him, I'm negligible."

Chef Wesley knew Henry was absolutely right.

Powerful people don't need to order others to act—people around them naturally try to figure out what they want, anticipate their wishes, and act proactively.

Then, at the right moment, they present what they've done. They may not earn gratitude from the powerful, but as long as they're remembered, they've taken a big step forward.

Chef Blackie, though acquainted with many wealthy people through catering, only knew them superficially. He understood their thoughts better than ordinary people, but he couldn't change anything.

In contrast, Henry was thinking of something else. The man from yesterday was the first superhero he'd encountered in this world—before he became a superhero, just a human being.

But he didn't resemble the actor in Henry's memory at all. Henry asked casually: "Chef, do you know Robert Downey Jr.?"

(End of Chapter)