Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

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Marianne didn't open the salad right away, of course. That wouldn't be polite or classy. Instead, she pulled a file from behind the desk and slid it across to Henry.

> "You got my voicemail, right?"

> "Yeah," Henry nodded. "The shoot today wrapped around noon, so I hit the gym. Heard your message once I got back."

That was a lie, but a convenient one. If he said he'd been reading in a library all afternoon, it'd just sound weird for an aspiring actor. Hitting the gym fit the image better. After all, half the guys in Hollywood were built like superheroes and read like second graders.

Marianne stood and tapped the folder.

> "You've still got time if you head over now. This one's huge Under Siege, thirty-five million dollar production."

Henry blinked.

> "Thirty-five mil? Damn."

> "They're casting background military roles mostly soldiers but it's a little different. The casting director's involved, sure, but the producer wants final say. They already tapped some agents, but they're short on people, so they opened it to the union."

> "I sent your profile over with a few others. They just called asking for more candidates on short notice. First-round auditions are still going on, but if they get enough bodies, there might not be a second round. So the sooner you get over there, the better."

Henry glanced at the file and gave a low whistle.

> "Major production, huh."

Before Titanic came along and sank both an iceberg and every studio exec's blood pressure, a budget like that was nothing to sneeze at.

Considering he'd only been in the game for a few months and was already being considered even as an extra in a high-profile project like this? That was a pretty good sign.

The film's summary jogged his memory. Yeah, Under Siege. He remembered this one from before he... well, arrived here.

Directed by Andrew Davis. Produced in part by Arnon Milchan. Backed by Warner Bros. But the real centerpiece?

Steven Seagal.

Producer. Lead actor. Walking controversy.

At this point in time, Seagal was still riding high a Russian-American martial artist whose Aikido-based fight scenes looked like one-hit kills. No flashy brawls, no dramatic reversals just bone-snapping, nerve-pinching precision.

It gave him a unique place in the action genre, especially compared to the more theatrical beatdowns of other stars. Under Siege, set aboard the USS Missouri, would go on to be one of his career-defining hits.

But Seagal was also a complicated guy far from a typical Hollywood meathead. Beneath the ponytail and spiritual-sounding interviews was someone a lot more... calculating.

Still, Henry wasn't looking to schmooze the leading man. He was just aiming for a helmet-and-fatigues background role. Hopefully, that kept him below the radar.

After nearly three months on various sets, Henry had learned the social structure of Hollywood the hard way. Your on-set social circle directly correlated to your screen time. Extras and leads might share the frame, but they lived in separate worlds.

Unless a lead chose to speak to you, initiating conversation only got you a cold stare or worse, a complaint to the AD.

He checked the location. The audition was right on the Warner Bros. lot close to the union building, but just far enough to make walking inconvenient and parking annoying.

He tapped the folder lightly and flashed Marianne a wink.

> "Alright, I'll go test my luck. Thanks, sweetheart."

> "Ask for Luigi when you get there he's representing the union on set. You know him."

"Got it." Henry gave her a casual wave as he headed out.

He didn't speed there using Kryptonian super-speed. Nah. He drove like a normal guy.

This wasn't a world-ending emergency, just a potential job. No need to blow his cover over a casting call.

Besides, driving meant he could leave directly after without circling back to the union parking lot. More efficient and more discreet.

More importantly, he was building habits. Relying too heavily on his powers during everyday life made it way too easy to slip up when it mattered. Start casually lifting cars in the grocery store parking lot and suddenly your secret identity's trending on national news.

He didn't want that. Didn't want to become one of those heroes, stuck between paranoia and public scrutiny.

If someone else wanted to play caped crusader, fine. Henry just wanted to stay under the radar and not punch anyone's head off by accident.

By the time he pulled into the Warner lot, the audition was easy to spot. It wasn't tucked inside a building but set up under an unused soundstage awning, with folding chairs lined up in the open air.

A modest sign read:

"USS Audition Area"

Clearly a codename USS in place of the actual film title.

The setup was barebones. Which made one thing clear:

Extras were the bottom of the Hollywood food chain.

Still, none of the waiting men complained. They sat patiently, quiet and composed, holding their forms and resumes.

Henry checked in, handed over the file Marianne had prepped along with his own résumé. The process was smooth this wasn't exactly Shakespeare in the Park, and they needed warm bodies, not award winners.

Instead of joining the others under the shade, Henry stood in the sun, soaking in the spring light.

And watching.

Men of every race, background, and accent had shown up for this audition but they all shared one thing in common:

They looked like they'd just walked out of a military recruitment poster.

Tall. Built. Square-jawed. The kind of guys the U.S. Army would love to clone en masse.

Looking at them... and realizing he fit right in?

Henry found that kind of hilarious.

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