Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 803: Chapter 803: Returning to Reality

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Death was indeed a way to leave one world behind, but Henry couldn’t simply seek death himself.

What he needed was the gap created when a lifeform, coerced into submission by that strange external force, struggled against its own instinct for survival. It was the clash between those two opposing forces that would provide Henry with a path of escape.

But putting this plan into practice was, of course, far from simple. It wasn’t as though he could merely wake up from a deep dream, open his eyes, and break free from the illusionary world controlled by the mutant.

Even someone as powerful in telepathy as Professor X had fallen victim to him. The Master of Illusion’s abilities were hardly something one could escape so easily.

At its core, however, the Master of Illusion’s power was a form of sensory deception. It made the target believe something, then caused that person’s actions in the real world to proceed according to the illusionist’s wishes.

That was fundamentally different from Professor X’s abilities, which possessed a coercive force powerful enough to influence even a person’s physiology through their mind.

At the very least, when a target forcefully resisted a particular action, the Master of Illusion’s abilities did not possess overwhelming control. He could only continue forcing the person under his control to submit to his commands.

If he had been dealing with an ordinary person, that might have been enough. Unfortunately, his opponent this time was a Kryptonian with a super brain.

From the very beginning, the Master of Illusion had been unable to completely control the Kryptonian’s super brain. The reason Henry had remained trapped in the illusionary world for several months wasn’t entirely due to the Master of Illusion’s powers. His own super brain had also become an accomplice in trapping him.

Yet it was precisely because of that super brain that Henry had retained the ability to think independently from the outset and discovered clues that something was wrong with the illusionary world. One could say that the outcome of their struggle hinged entirely on a single super brain.

Henry, who had been searching for a way out all along, would never overlook the obvious inconsistencies before him. How could he so easily submit to the countless mutants surrounding him in the illusion and demanding that he do something idiotic?

When Henry attempted to resist everything, he had no prior experience with mental combat. All he could do was gather the energy throughout his body and fight back with everything he had. Naturally, the Master of Illusion, who was manipulating everything from behind the scenes, had no intention of casually letting his captured prey go.

The struggle and contest between the two caused the bioelectricity within the Kryptonian’s body to begin running out of control. With no outlet through which to discharge it, the bioelectricity eventually accumulated beyond the threshold Henry could endure, electrocuting him into collapse!

Within Henry’s consciousness, he awoke in a military camp, entered battle, suffered defeat, and was eventually locked inside a mutant laboratory. He experienced nearly two months of events.

Who could have imagined that, relying solely on the imagination of his super brain, those mere few seconds would be enough for him to construct an entire world that felt complete and real—and spend two months living in it?

In reality, he had merely walked to the door of Katherine Hepburn’s house to answer it. Then he began foaming at the mouth, his entire body convulsed uncontrollably, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the floor.

Immediately, alarms blared throughout the house. The noise was so loud that even the neighbors were disturbed.

> ”Warning, warning. Henry Brown has collapsed. The New York City police system has now been contacted. An ambulance has been dispatched to the scene.”

Amid the shrill alarm, a prerecorded voice repeated the same message over and over.

Katherine Hepburn, who was inside the house, noticed what had happened and worriedly began walking toward the entrance. As for Skye, who had just answered the door and called Henry over, she was even more frightened, standing rooted to the spot, unsure what to do.

But the person in the most difficult position of all was Colonel William Stryker, standing at the doorway. He had been preparing to have his own son—and useful tool—demonstrate his abilities and abduct the mutant.

His original plan had been to have Henry controlled, then obediently follow him away on his own. Henry himself could make up whatever excuse he wanted. No matter whom they encountered, no one would find anything suspicious.

He hadn’t expected his own son’s powers to knock the man unconscious.

If that had been all, he could have invented an excuse or continued using the Master of Illusion’s abilities to deceive the others. His men could then carry the damned mutant away, and once they returned to base, they could take their time dealing with him.

But Henry had collapsed and triggered some ridiculous alarm system.

Now, not only had the entire apartment building been alerted, but there was a good chance the police and an ambulance had actually been notified.

Sure enough, some neighbors upstairs and downstairs had already opened their doors and poked their heads out to see what was happening. They were asking those living nearby what had occurred.

”Damn it!”

William Stryker walked over to the man sitting in the wheelchair, bent down, and spoke into his ear.

”Take control of everyone in this building. Make them go back into their goddamn apartments.”

Jason Stryker, the man in the wheelchair wearing a hospital gown—the Master of Illusion—began using his abilities according to his father’s instructions.

Although he succeeded in deceiving some people into returning to their apartments, even more residents continued coming out because of the blaring alarm.

The Master of Illusion’s powers were incapable of controlling so many people simultaneously, especially across such a large area as an entire apartment building.

And that wasn’t the only problem facing these conspirators. The internal notification from the police system had also reached Colonel William Stryker’s men.

One of them hurriedly reported to his superior.

”Colonel, an ambulance and a police car are already on their way here. If we don’t leave now, we’re going to run into them.”

”One man go down to the first floor, identify yourself, and tell those people to get the hell out of here! The rest of you carry this damned mutant away.”

”Sir! This is the Upper East Side of New York.”

That simple sentence was enough to leave William Stryker speechless.

For the military to cause trouble in New York’s Upper East Side, a traditional stronghold of old money, would probably be only marginally less outrageous than causing trouble in the Northwest quadrant of Washington, D.C.—the area where the White House was located.

For fuck’s sake, never mistake America’s old-money elite for harmless, kindly old neighbors!

William Stryker’s power came from the uniform he wore. The authority wielded by a United States Army colonel was probably far greater than anyone outside the military system could imagine.

If he offended the old-money elite, how difficult would it really be for those people to have him killed outright, even without getting their hands dirty, and strip him of the uniform that gave him his authority?

After weighing the pros and cons, William Stryker could only decide to retreat.

”Let’s go. Make sure those who need to keep their mouths shut understand that they need to keep them shut. You handle it.”

The person he had singled out was the young officer who had just warned the colonel that they were in New York’s Upper East Side. Apparently, his superior disliked him enough to dump this difficult task on him.

”Yes, sir.”

The group abandoned their target and hurriedly pushed Jason Stryker away in his wheelchair. Wearing a hospital gown and unable to do anything but sit in the chair, he was entirely at their mercy.

Without the kid in the hospital gown, they might still have found a way to take Henry Brown away.

But now they already had one conspicuous companion with them. Carrying away another unconscious man would be one thing if they weren’t stopped by the police. If they were caught, however, the trouble would be enormous.

According to their investigation reports, Henry Brown had provided considerable assistance to the police and firefighters during the collapse of the Gemini Towers. He also had a foundation that donated money to the police.

If the military could simply take away such a benefactor and financial supporter while the police still had time to arrive, the entire NYPD would have to be replaced from top to bottom the very next day.

Otherwise, how could New York’s old-money elite trust a police force that couldn’t protect them?

The reason this group had dared not come to the door wearing military uniforms was precisely because they feared the nature of the residents in this area.

Being a soldier didn’t mean you could simply run roughshod over everyone wherever you went.

If this guy had lived in an ordinary neighborhood—or some chaotic, rundown district—there wouldn’t have been so much trouble. They could have brought over a van, covered his mouth, and forced him inside.

But here? Who would dare do that?

A group of soldiers in civilian clothes quickly withdrew before anyone else could react.

All that remained was the family whose home was filled with blaring alarms—and the unconscious man lying on the floor.

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