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The tiger enclosure at the zoo was peaceful and serene. There were no bloody scenes, no tigers tearing into one another.
The well-fed beasts each occupied their own territory, lazily basking in the sunlight. Even when visiting tourists shouted and made a racket nearby, it only prompted the tigers to take turns getting up and stretching their limbs before settling back down.
A few energetic young guys were, of course, dissatisfied with such a lackluster performance. They jeered from the sidelines, urging the tigers to put on a bloody showdown.
Among them was a Black guy who bragged loudly in front of his girl that if he were thrown into the tiger pit, he'd show everyone how to fight these tigers barehanded. The way he talked, it was as if his African ancestors had possessed him, a god of war descended to the mortal world—peerless and invincible.
Zoo staff had long grown used to this kind of behavior from visitors. Andy Thompson hurriedly counted the number of tigers and discovered that there really was one extra!
To his eyes, all tigers looked the same. The fact that he could even remember how many were supposed to be in the enclosure already proved that he was doing his job as an administrative supervisor. Recognizing individual tigers was far beyond him.
"Kelly, go get some people to help and bring Mr. Brown's pet out," he ordered.
That bald white man's instruction naturally received no positive response from the female keeper. The attractive woman tilted her head, wearing an attitude that suggested the world should bend around her.
"I already said it—this guy can't take care of a tiger. I don't want any part of this. And look at them now, getting along just fine. Letting that tiger stay in the zoo is clearly the best solution."
"You…!" Andy wanted to curse, but the words stuck in his throat.
Perhaps she had someone backing her up—someone who made an administrative supervisor powerless against her.
Henry, however, had no time to appreciate this real-life workplace drama. He walked to the edge of the tiger enclosure's railing and looked down at the group of tigers.
In truth, he spotted his own Kitty at a glance. The lazy thing clearly had no intention of moving, behaving exactly like the zoo's tigers. Had she assimilated that quickly?
"Roar!"
Henry let out a tiger's roar. No matter what they had been doing, every tiger froze and lifted its head, looking toward him.
"Kitty, time to go home," Henry called out in normal speech.
Lying atop the highest rock like a true mountain king, Kitty finally got up at her leisure. She roared a few times to either side. The rest of the tigers answered back, like underlings responding to their boss's orders.
Seeing this, Henry was genuinely surprised. How long had it even been? And she had already subdued the zoo's tiger pack?
But then again, considering the quality of meat Henry fed her, and the amount of activity she got chasing BB around, how could zoo-raised tigers compare? Even in sheer size, they were a notch smaller. Submission on sight—there was never going to be a fight.
Just then, one tiger wandered toward the edge of the pit near the wall. Kitty immediately charged with the ferocity of a tiger descending the mountain.
Tourists cried out in shock. Even the rowdy young men grew excited, cheering loudly, eager to see a tiger-on-tiger bloodbath.
To everyone's surprise, Kitty didn't bite any tiger. Just before reaching the wall, the tiger near it leapt straight up on the spot.
Using the jumping tiger as a springboard, Kitty stomped down hard—launching herself even higher.
She landed on a protruding part of the enclosure's artificial rockwork, borrowed the momentum, and kicked off again in the opposite direction.
The tiger executed a stunning forward flip—something no one would ever imagine—cleanly vaulting out of the zoo's deep-pit-style tiger enclosure.
Kitty landed right where the loudmouthed youths were gathered. The Black guy who had earlier boasted about wrestling tigers wet himself at the sight of Kitty right in front of him. He collapsed onto the ground, utterly incapable of running.
If this had been the wild, if Kitty were a truly wild tiger, she could have enjoyed an extra meal right then and there.
But Kitty had no habit of hunting live prey. Before the thought of "playing" with the two-legged creatures in front of her could even form, one sharp whistle from Henry called her over.
Ignoring the chaos erupting across the zoo as visitors panicked over a tiger escaping the enclosure, Henry rubbed Kitty's head.
"Where did you learn a move like that, you show-off?"
With her auxiliary device already removed, Kitty might not understand human language, but she could sense emotions perfectly well. Henry's mix of indifference and mild disdain only made her feel more pleased with herself.
Henry was happy. Kitty was happy.
Which meant someone else definitely wasn't.
The female keeper came charging over like a madwoman, completely disregarding the dangerous tiger right in front of her. She grabbed Henry by the sleeve.
"How could you let it get out?!"
Henry was stunned by the question. He replied blankly, "I don't have telekinesis. It jumped out on its own. It wasn't me."
"I don't care. I'm taking this tiger back into the enclosure," the keeper snapped, stirring up trouble without restraint.
But the chaos didn't stop there.
The support personnel who had been summoned earlier—armed with tranquilizer rifles—arrived on the scene. Seeing a tiger outside the enclosure, one of them immediately raised his gun and took aim.
Should Henry stop the man with the gun?
The distance was too great. To stop him in time, Henry would have to reveal his abilities. And the angle was… awkward—so awkward that Henry didn't quite want to intervene.
So, possessed by a flair for drama, Henry continued grappling back and forth with the woman. Kitty stayed right beside him, step for step, glued to her Kryptonian two-legged companion.
With tranquilizer rifles, the real danger came the moment the trigger was pulled. By the time there was any warning, the dart's speed would make it too late to do anything.
So Henry focused on the shooter's breathing.
Some less-skilled marksmen habitually hold their breath or exhale deeply right before pulling the trigger, to keep their lungs from disturbing their aim. The better the shooter, the shorter this pause.
The instant Henry sensed the man holding his breath, he let out a tiger's roar—and simultaneously pretended to be shoved, falling backward.
The female keeper, already entangled with Henry, was thrown off balance by his sudden fall.
She didn't tumble onto him in a cinematic, perfectly timed lip-to-lip moment like in the movies. In reality, she merely stumbled awkwardly.
What proved fatal was that, alerted by the roar, Kitty suddenly leapt sideways—clearing the shooter's line of fire.
The tranquilizer dart, dosed to bring down a full-grown tiger, flew straight into the keeper's ample chest.
The dart didn't have enough kinetic energy to send a person flying, but it was powerful enough to pierce tiger hide. A direct hit like that was no joke.
The girl didn't even get a chance to curse anyone out—the dart dropped her instantly.
The man who fired the shot screamed in panic, rushing over and grabbing the fallen woman. Even the bald white supervisor, Andy, finally reacted and tried to take control of the situation.
Henry kindly reminded him, "Mr. Thompson, you'd better call your medical staff first. That was a tiger-dose tranquilizer. If it hit a person and isn't treated properly, you might want to start preparing a memorial for a colleague."
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