Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 570: The Siberian Prison

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Autumn had arrived in Siberia.

Although snow had not yet begun to fall, temperatures had already dropped to brutally low levels.

Compared to the harsh climate, the prisoners’ clothing was remarkably thin.

This ensured inmates could only function comfortably within heated areas.

If anyone attempted to escape, the prison guards hardly needed to pursue them.

The environment itself would eliminate anyone foolish enough to dream of freedom.

Fortunately, temperatures had not yet fallen below freezing.

So whenever sunlight was available, the prison authorities still allowed inmates outside for exercise and exposure to the precious sunshine.

Unlike regions within the Arctic Circle, Siberia did not experience six months of daylight followed by six months of darkness.

Yet even here, the difference between daylight hours in early and late seasons could exceed six hours.

Sunlight remained a valuable commodity.

Dressed in prison clothes and mixed among the inmates, Henry searched the crowd for his next objectives:

Ivan Kochetov.

Yuri Kuznozov.

Those two had served as assistants to Peter Roslov, director of the alien research institute.

The director had been purged, and they had ended up in prison as well.

After the change of regime, they had once seemed likely to regain their freedom.

Unfortunately, other researchers seeking to protect themselves exposed corruption committed during the pair’s employment.

As a result, authorities skipped the trouble of releasing them and simply left them imprisoned.

Personnel turnover within a Siberian special prison was infrequent, so an unfamiliar face like Henry’s should have stood out considerably.

Fortunately, the prison operated through compartmentalized management.

Most inmates only knew the people living within their own sections.

During large communal recreation periods like this, seeing unfamiliar faces was not particularly unusual.

In Russian prisons, tattoo culture was unavoidable.

Compared to tattoo traditions elsewhere, Russian criminal tattoos had evolved into something resembling European heraldry.

Every symbol possessed specific meanings.

People could not simply tattoo whatever they pleased.

For example:

A dagger tattoo signified, on one level, "Only death can force me to submit."

On another level, it advertised:

"I am available for hire as a killer."

The blood droplets decorating a dagger tattoo—or teardrops tattooed on the face—were even more restricted.

Each represented a life taken.

One drop meant one victim.

Two drops meant two victims.

And so on.

Most tattoo themes originated from Russia’s dominant faith:

Eastern Orthodoxy.

Although Eastern Orthodoxy was a branch of Christianity, it did not answer to the Pope in Rome, and certain doctrinal differences naturally existed.

One of the most obvious distinctions was its acceptance of religious imagery.

As a result, Russian criminal tattoos frequently depicted icons of saints and the Virgin Mary.

Beyond religious imagery, tattoos also served as declarations of ideology.

Some expressed contempt for Soviet authoritarianism.

Others reflected admiration for American dollars.

There were even symbols representing specific crimes.

A girl whose skirt was hooked by a fishing hook symbolized a rapist.

A mermaid represented a child molester.

A snake indicated involvement with narcotics or severe drug addiction.

The reason all this mattered was simple:

Henry had badly underestimated how conspicuous he would appear in a Russian prison.

Not because everyone walked around shirtless.

Faces.

Necks.

Hands.

Fingers.

Every visible patch of skin carried some kind of tattoo.

Henry’s current disguise might resemble a filthy homeless drifter outside prison.

Inside prison, however, he looked practically clean and untouched.

An obvious rookie.

Countless eyes quickly settled upon him.

Nobody suspected he was an intruder.

Many were simply calculating suitable opportunities for less pleasant intentions.

Unfortunately, those whispered discussions inevitably entered a Kryptonian’s super hearing.

Henry instantly felt a chill run down his spine.

At that moment, he seriously considered flying away and trying again another day.

Just as he contemplated retreat, a bear-like man hooked an arm around his neck from the side.

Henry could have avoided it easily.

But since he was still wondering how best to begin, this felt like an opportunity.

So he allowed it.

"Young man," the giant asked, "how did you end up here?

"This prison is for serious criminals.

"Did you sleep with some official’s beautiful wife, and he sent you here so you could learn what it feels like to be the woman instead?"

As he spoke, he stuck a finger into his mouth, pulled at his cheek, and made a loud pop.

The surrounding prisoners immediately erupted into vulgar laughter.

Despite the rude words, however, the man’s grip around Henry’s neck was surprisingly measured.

He didn’t feel like the sort of prisoner driven by desperation and loneliness.

So Henry went straight to the point.

"I have a debt to collect.

"Do you know where Ivan Kochetov and Yuri Kuznozov are?"

The only tattoos Henry could clearly identify were the words KARL across the knuckles of the man’s right hand and MARX across the left.

His open shirt also revealed part of a double-headed eagle tattoo on his chest.

Those symbols seemed contradictory.

Knuckle tattoos usually represented admired figures or personal convictions.

"Karl Marx" could only refer to the German philosopher, political theorist, and revolutionary.

Meanwhile, the double-headed eagle—the emblem of Imperial Russia—typically expressed anger and contempt toward Soviet authority.

The combination suggested someone who believed in the ideology but despised the people who had corrupted it.

Perhaps even those who had sent him here.

For that reason, Henry openly revealed his purpose.

Partly to seek help.

Partly to test the man.

At the very least, he didn’t seem like an ordinary gangster.

He might even be a political prisoner.

Hearing the request, the bear-like inmate immediately released Henry and asked:

"Who are you?

"And why are you looking for them?"

Meeting the man’s gaze directly, Henry replied:

"You don’t look like someone who could handle it for me.

"So just tell me where they are.

"I’ll take care of the rest myself."

The man looked him up and down.

He sensed neither the toughness of a warrior nor the aura of an assassin.

"This isn’t a place where you can cause trouble," he warned.

"If you still hope to leave someday, behave yourself."

At that moment, a troublemaker nearby shouted loudly:

"The people you want are over there!"

He pointed toward a distant area before immediately yelling in that direction:

"Ivan! Yuri!

"There’s a nice young pretty boy here looking for you!"

The surrounding prisoners burst into laughter and joined the heckling.

Following the indicated direction, Henry immediately understood their reaction.

His targets—Ivan Kochetov and Yuri Kuznozov—clearly belonged to a prison gang.

A group of vicious-looking criminals surrounded them.

Then again, neither Ivan nor Yuri looked any better than the company they kept.

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