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The spring of 2000 arrived a little later than usual.
Earlier that year, the eastern coast of North America—centered around North Carolina—had been struck by the largest snowstorm in recorded history. New York State hadn't escaped unscathed either.
Even so, while spring's arrival was delayed, nature's revival wasn't far behind.
Fresh buds eagerly sprouted from trees and shrubs, as if they couldn't wait any longer.
Even the animals seemed livelier than during the winter months, no longer content to laze around all day.
The beautiful women walking the streets had already begun switching into shorts and miniskirts, pairing them with fur coats or trench coats.
Fashionable, warm, and irresistibly alluring.
Having suffered only a minor cold throughout the winter, Katharine Hepburn finally no longer needed to dress like a giant ball whenever she took Katie out for a walk.
However...
As public attitudes toward mutants grew increasingly hostile, Henry began noticing a different sort of hostility directed at those around him.
He couldn't tell whether New Yorkers had simply become more irritable and explosive, turning every minor issue into a scene, or whether someone was deliberately targeting them.
A few months earlier, whenever Katharine Hepburn walked through the streets or parks with Katie, people practically kept their distance.
Even the local troublemakers who enjoyed flirting with disaster generally didn't dare approach.
Since the beginning of spring, however, incidents had become noticeably more frequent.
Young delinquents would stroll past and casually make provocative gestures.
Others would mutter insults under their breath.
Things like that happened far more often than before.
For example, today a half-grown kid "accidentally" slammed into Katharine Hepburn from the side.
The impact nearly knocked the elderly woman off her feet.
Fortunately, Henry and Katie reacted instantly—one supporting her from above and the other from below.
Otherwise, she would have taken a hard fall.
"Sorry."
The boy's face was hidden beneath the brim of a baseball cap.
As he tightened his grip on his sports jacket, he muttered an apology and immediately started walking away.
Although Katharine Hepburn's dementia had improved significantly, anyone would be stunned after being hit unexpectedly like that.
She hadn't even realized what had happened.
But if she hadn't noticed, there was no way Henry could miss it.
Reaching out, he grabbed the kid by the back of his collar and lifted him clean off the ground.
Holding him in front of himself, Henry extended his other hand.
"Give it back."
"Give back what?"
"The thing you just stole."
The boy opened his mouth, clearly intending to deny everything.
Henry cut him off.
"Don't bother. You haven't even had time to sort through your loot yet. The identification cards are still inside.
"If I call the police, you might be too young for jail, but you'll still be sitting at the station until your parents come pick you up."
Reluctantly, the boy handed over the small handbag he'd stolen.
Then he immediately began struggling.
"Put me down!"
At the same time, he started shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Pervert! This guy's bullying a kid! Help! Somebody call the cops!"
Judging by his appearance, he was only around ten years old.
Yet his personality was remarkably vicious.
Henry couldn't exactly argue with a brat like this, so he set him back on the ground.
Then he returned the recovered handbag to Katharine Hepburn.
In the brief moment Henry turned his head, the kid viciously kicked him in the leg.
If he had been taller, Henry suspected the little monster would've gone straight for a groin shot.
Unfortunately for him, Superman's steel-like body wasn't something an ordinary human could kick.
The result was that the boy nearly crippled himself.
He stood there baring his teeth in pain.
Henry looked at the brat speechlessly.
Just as he was about to say something, the kid spat directly at him.
Left with no choice, the Kryptonian had to pretend to make a sudden and difficult dodge to avoid the saliva attack.
The boy stuck out his tongue and shouted:
"Fuckin' mutant!"
Then he bolted.
That did it.
Henry was furious.
By his usual standards, as long as there were no witnesses, no evidence, and no body, there wasn't enough proof for a murder conviction, right?
He was already calculating how many people he would need to eliminate, how many surveillance cameras would need to disappear, and how long it would take to fly someone into the sun—
Then he heard a voice behind him.
"Henry, are you alright?"
Katharine Hepburn gently tugged on his sleeve.
"Oh, I'm fine."
Henry instantly returned to normal.
"Kate, are you hurt?"
He hurried over to help her.
The collision hadn't been a simple body check.
It had been expertly done—a precise maneuver that disrupted her balance and left her startled and vulnerable, making it easy to lift her belongings.
If the kid hadn't simply gotten lucky, then he had clearly done this many times before.
A seasoned pickpocket.
The reason brats were so troublesome was that their age served as their strongest shield.
Now that the little punk had already disappeared, all Henry could do was mutter that the kid had no upbringing.
There wasn't much else he could do.
The impact itself hadn't been severe.
But for an elderly woman, it wasn't exactly insignificant either.
Fortunately, Katie had cushioned her from below while Henry supported her from above.
Otherwise, the consequences could have been much worse.
Katharine Hepburn carefully examined herself.
Checking her arms, legs, and various other places, she eventually nodded.
"Looks like I'm fine. That child was awfully careless."
Henry couldn't help grumbling at her attempt to downplay the incident.
"Careless enough to accidentally steal your handbag too? If he'd done it on purpose, he probably could've packaged you up and shipped you to Antarctica through FedEx."
"Oh, stop that."
She lightly smacked his arm.
Then she linked her arm through his and smiled.
"Now then, I almost fell over just now, and that's entirely because you weren't holding onto me properly. Don't let go this time."
Henry continued complaining.
"With the strength you've got, if you'd actually used it, that little brat would've landed on the moon. Or at least in the ocean."
"You certainly talk a lot."
She gave him another playful swat.
"Come on. Let's find a bench in the park.
"I intend to sit in the sun for a while today.
"That little scare nearly made my heart jump out of my mouth."
Normally, incidents like this were almost impossible because Katie was always present.
But today's lesson taught Henry something important:
There would always be people looking for opportunities to create situations nobody wanted.
Previously, whenever they went for walks together, Henry simply stayed near Katharine Hepburn while Katie proudly led the way ahead.
Now, with the old woman clinging tightly to his arm, there was no chance of chasing after that brat.
Instead, he directed Katie to walk on the opposite side.
Together, they formed a protective formation with Katharine Hepburn safely in the center.
The earlier incident had occurred because the kid found a gap and slipped through.
Henry simply hadn't anticipated something like that.
Now that it had happened once, he had no intention of allowing it to happen again.
Unfortunately, reality had a way of teaching painful lessons.
No matter how carefully they protected her, all of their actions remained reactive.
The pickpocket incident became the beginning of a pattern.
Every time Henry accompanied Katharine Hepburn outside—whether Katie was with them or not—one or two unpleasant incidents inevitably occurred.
Sometimes they were disturbed by selfish youths playing recklessly in the streets.
Other times some frustrated New Yorker would suddenly yell at them for no apparent reason.
Individually, each event looked like an ordinary accident.
But when they happened this frequently—and all at once—it became difficult not to suspect that someone was orchestrating things behind the scenes.
Especially when that same pickpocket kid seemed to appear in their daily encounters over and over again...
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