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Chapter 55: The Reason for Leaving
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 16:09:47 +0000 UTC
Being publicly roasted by Tony Stark and some random passerby had Justin Hammer fuming. He jabbed a finger toward the stranger and snapped,
> “What the hell do you know? Just throwing out some random number and pretending it’s right?”
Henry fired right back, calm as ever.
> “The first number was clearly calculated using an old IBM mainframe. That kind of floating-point error? Classic legacy bug.
The second figure didn’t even account for lunar gravity. You gave a specific date—that means the Moon’s position is fixed. Unless the reentry was a high-speed slingshot maneuver, lunar influence has to be factored in.
Reentry is about deceleration, not acceleration. And if the craft and Moon are on the same side? Yeah, that changes everything.”
He gave Hammer a pitying look.
> “Unless, of course, you're an Apollo program astronaut in disguise. In that case, I'm worried whether NASA’s people ever made it home alive.”
Tony burst into laughter, slapping the table.
Justin? Same table slap—but out of pure rage. He stood, trembling with anger.
> “You dare mock me like this?!”
> “Mock?” Henry said, feigning surprise. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Any functioning brain can see it at a glance.
Unless—ah, my bad. I shouldn’t have assumed you were… neurotypical. I should really show more patience with the mentally challenged.”
His expression shifted from sarcastic to gentle sympathy, like he was consoling a kid who just dropped their ice cream cone.
> “Motherfu—!”
Justin was livid, practically ready to flip the table.
“You wanna play hardball?” he snapped. “You have any idea who I am? I’ll have you expelled tomorrow, you hear me?!”
Henry gave him a confused look.
> “Dude, you’re not even wearing a name tag. How the hell would I know who you are?”
Then he pulled out a dollar bill, slapped it on the table.
“Tell you what, let’s bet. I say you can’t get me expelled. I win, I keep the buck.”
With a snort, Justin flung his own bill on the table—didn’t even look at the denomination.
> “Name your school. I guarantee you're out by morning.”
Henry snatched both bills with a grin.
> “Joke’s on you. I’m not in any school. So tell me, how exactly are you planning to expel me?”
Justin froze.
Henry leaned in, putting on a mock-apologetic look.
> “Oops, I did it again. I should be more sensitive toward people with cognitive impairments. That outburst? Totally my bad. Sincerely. No offense to the disabled community.”
> “F**k YOU!”
Justin was ready to explode.
His cronies couldn’t let their boss eat that much dirt, so one of them stepped in.
> “You think you’re clever? Give us your name. We’ll get your records scrubbed. Degree or not—you’ll never work again.”
Henry gave them a lopsided grin that practically screamed “Come at me, bro.”
> “I don’t need to give you my name because I don’t have a degree. Or a school. Just a Los Angeles public library card. You can cancel that if you want—I’ll live.”
One of them looked doubtful.
> “Who are you? How the hell do you know this stuff?”
He gestured to the paper with the Challenger reentry math.
Henry chuckled.
> “Smart people know things. Shocking, I know. Don’t be jealous just because you can’t fake what I’ve got. And seriously—what kind of idiot would tell you who they are? Asking for trouble.”
He snapped his fingers mockingly in their faces.
> “Next time you want someone’s help, don’t summon them like they’re a damn dog. Show people respect, and you might get some back. Treat me like a mutt? Don’t be surprised when I return the favor.”
With that, he gave them a lazy wave and strolled off.
Tony Stark hadn’t been the center of attention for once, which was weird for him. But he couldn’t even be mad—he’d just witnessed a masterclass in humiliation. That performance? A+ entertainment.
Besides, watching Justin Hammer lose his mind? Delicious.
Tony didn’t care who the guy was, even if he’d just solved a problem faster than anyone else in the room. It wasn’t enough to impress Tony Stark.
But man, watching Hammer get wrecked? Totally made up for losing the spotlight.
---
Meanwhile, Henry wasn’t just leaving for fun. Normally, if he set foot in a library, he wouldn’t leave until dinner. But this time, he had a reason.
His house phone was rigged with an answering machine, so he could pick up messages without rushing home. Still, with his Kryptonian hearing, Henry often listened in on incoming calls from a distance.
This time, he’d caught a familiar voice: Marianne, the Film Actors Guild clerk he’d been bringing coffee to all week.
He’d dropped off a cup that morning, and now she was calling to ask him to get in touch ASAP. That sounded important enough to make a detour.
Reading could wait. Free knowledge wasn’t going anywhere. When duty calls, you answer. Henry hopped into his car and headed straight for the guild.
No need to drive home just to check the answering machine—what was this, the pre-smartphone era? Wait…
Actually, it kind of was.
Still, Henry made one brief stop—at a trendy vegan café in L.A.—and picked up a boxed salad. Something light and thoughtful. Nothing won hearts faster than a good coffee and a well-timed healthy snack.
When he reached the Film Actors Guild, it was the same as always—never buzzing, never dead. Somewhere between slow and steady.
Marianne was behind the front desk, buried in paperwork—or at least pretending to be.
> “Hey there, sweetheart,” Henry said smoothly. “Did you eat lunch? You look like you’re wasting away.”
She looked up, eyes lighting up.
> “Henry! You really think I’ve lost weight?”
> “Here.”
He handed her the salad.
“Late lunch, early dinner, surprise snack—dealer’s choice.”
> “Oh, honey. You’re too sweet,” Marianne gushed, clutching the container to her chest.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d accept just any salad from just anyone. But Henry had taste—he always brought her stuff from places on her secret favorites list. Not too fancy, but good. Well-timed. Well-chosen.
Marianne appreciated the little things.
