Finding a Place

The Kryptonian who had crossed into a new world had thought his standards for finding a place were no standards at all—anywhere livable would do. But once he seriously started looking, every apartment had one flaw or another that Henry found unbearable.

Then again, if they did not have those flaws, these seemingly decent places would never have ended up in Fabio's hands.

Among Los Angeles rental agents, he could only be considered lower-middle tier. He was well suited to penniless young people who had come to Hollywood to chase their dreams of stardom.

But someone like Henry had a little money and, because of the secrets he carried, feared causing unnecessary trouble. So although he claimed not to be picky, every place he visited seemed full of flaws. He was rather like those little princesses of later generations choosing a mate.

Fortunately, Fabio had seen all sorts of people. Running around more for the sake of making money was perfectly normal. Over the next two or three days, he took Henry through every listing their company had that caught Henry's eye.

In the end, Henry chose an apartment building near a Portuguese-speaking neighborhood. It was not some upscale district, but at least there were no streetwalkers selling drugs or sex on the nearby streets.

However, when ethnic minorities gathered together, public safety was only passable for outsiders. Unless one belonged to the same ethnic group, in which case people looked out for each other and the level of safety invisibly rose by a great deal.

The landlord lived on the first floor and personally managed the entire building. Whenever a new tenant arrived, he had to look them over himself. If the landlord was dissatisfied, it did not matter how badly the prospective tenant wanted the place.

Although the apartment building was near the Portuguese-speaking neighborhood, the landlord was not an immigrant from Brazil. He belonged to a family that had lived here since Hollywood first rose to prominence.

But the family line had dwindled. By the landlord's generation, he was the only one left living alone. He had a divorced wife, while their child had been given to his mother.

To him, those immigrants were the outsiders. So he did not restrict his apartments to any particular ethnic group or type of profession.

He simply had to "like the look of them."

When Henry first heard Fabio describe him, he thought the man would be some difficult character. But upon arriving, he found a bald little old man who looked extremely flamboyant, wearing lipstick and eyeshadow.

...Now Henry fully understood why his son had chosen to stay with his mother.

His Kryptonian Iron Fist was itching again. So this was not the landlord choosing tenants—it was whether the tenants could endure the landlord's natural selection.

"Gary, I'm here." The Italian warmly embraced the bald landlord.

The little old man gave Henry a coquettish once-over, leaving the newcomer dumbfounded and questioning his life.

"Another young man has come to this land of dreams. What kind of person are you? Chasing a star's dream? Hoping to fulfill the American dream? Or did you come to the big city searching for opportunities?" the little old man asked in an utterly flirtatious manner.

Henry stayed ready at all times. If the other man dared try some face-to-face dancing, the righteous Kryptonian Iron Fist would be ready to strike at any moment.

But old Gary had a very clear sense of boundaries, and there was no eager hunter's gleam in his eyes. It could be said that this appearance was merely what he liked for himself, not a means of picking anyone up.

Put another way, Gary was like someone who enjoyed cosplay, except he did not have any particular character he wanted to dress up as.

Besides, although visual kei bands had originated in that degenerate land of England, the United States had been deeply influenced as well. If people could dress like demons and monsters, who said they could not dress like a seductive woman...

In short, old Gary gave off the feeling of someone who had completely cut loose after his wife and child left him. Though Henry still did not know whether his divorce from his wife was the cause or the result.

Since the man had asked, Henry naturally would not be rude enough to ignore him. He said, "I mainly came to see what a big city is like, so I'll try a little of everything. If it disappoints me, I'll go back to Alaska."

That was the truth. Henry had never been determined to live a lavish, decadent life in a big city.

After all, this was the Marvel Universe, with Mutants and Captain America.

And according to Old John, he had once tried to join the Howling Commandos but failed to pass the threshold. So it was reasonable to suspect that the Werewolves, Vampires, Frankensteins, mummies, and the like in the Howling Commandos all truly existed.

Who knew what even worse things might be lurking in this world? A Kryptonian physique that could be gained simply by absorbing Yellow Sun light existed, so it would not be surprising if some orphaned Bruce Wayne suddenly popped up somewhere.

If that day truly came, Henry would scurry back to Alaska. He could use his Kryptonian dog eyes to dig for gold and live a life of literally picking up money. There was no way he could starve to death.

"Hmm, Alaska." Gary circled Henry once, looking as though he were appraising him. Then he suddenly asked, "Are you from the west?"

The Red Empire in the west was in chaos. Anyone who could flee naturally chose to flee, even if it meant running into the home of an old enemy.

Strictly speaking, Henry himself could be linked to the Red Empire somewhat. But the details were difficult to sort out, and he certainly did not want to reveal that he was actually an alien in this world. So he shook his head and said, "Just Alaska."

"All right, just Mr. Alaska. If you intend to rent, come up and have a look." Gary did not press further. He directly took the large ring of keys from his waist, unlocked the door to the first-floor stairwell, and walked inside.

The Italian followed behind and made a "please" gesture, inviting Henry in. At the same time, he said, "Don't worry. Mr. Gary is very friendly. His tastes are just a little unusual."

Before crossing over, Henry had witnessed the divine might of the Thunderclap Dharma King, who eradicated every bad habit. Following the principle that if it was not corrected, it would be crippled—after all, once someone had been shocked into brain numbness, they could not keep any bad habits, could they?

So Henry shrugged and said, "As long as he doesn't force me to do the same things, I have no prejudice." He was not the Thunderclap Dharma King, but sending people off to their next lives was his specialty.

And Henry was telling the truth. Compared with the future United States, where bizarre people were everywhere and political correctness came first, the mentally ill of this era were far milder.

Old Gary's apartment was a corner unit on the third floor, with windows on two sides. It was not large, but it had all the basic facilities: a kitchen, refrigerator, bed, wardrobe, bookcase, desk, bathroom, and washing machine.

All the furniture looked neat and clean, clearly maintained with care by either the resident or the manager. It was the sort of place one could move into with nothing but a suitcase.

Old Gary stood by the doorway and said, "I believe Fabio has already told you the terms here. Let me emphasize the important ones again: no pets. You may invite friends over, but noisy parties with music pounding away are not welcome.

"I don't care whether you get high or not. But if you get wasted in my apartment and go looking for trouble everywhere, I guarantee I'll kick you out onto the street to sleep. Is that clear?"

"That's perfectly reasonable. I have no objections."