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After seeing a name that caught his attention, there was no way Henry could resist investigating whether this George Stacy was the person he was thinking of.
His first instinct when he wanted information on someone was to contact the Continental Hotel in New York.
But he immediately suppressed the thought.
His experience with the Los Angeles Continental had left something close to psychological trauma.
Organizations with criminal backgrounds had a habit of controlling people in very direct ways.
Even when two parties should have had no connection and there were no obvious weaknesses to exploit, such organizations often created problems specifically to force people into seeking their help.
Now that he had escaped the jurisdiction of the Los Angeles Continental, why walk straight into the New York branch?
As long as he stayed out of their business, didn't compete with them, and didn't owe them anything, maintaining some distance should be possible.
Besides, he wasn't trying to harm George Stacy.
He merely wanted a basic understanding of the man's history and background.
If outsiders misunderstood his intentions, that could become troublesome.
The world was full of people who considered themselves clever.
They offered a tiny favor and then acted as though they were owed a lifelong debt.
John Garrett had behaved exactly that way before, and Henry hadn't even wanted to deal with him.
The Continental was much the same.
Henry didn't owe anyone there anything.
Speaking of investigations, Google's search engine had technically appeared back in 1996, operating only on Stanford University's website.
In 1997, founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin registered the domain name.
In 1998, Google officially became a company.
However, Google wouldn't truly take off until after 2000.
The year 1999 sat on the eve of the first internet bubble—a period of wild speculation and the final glorious years of web portals before they became obsolete.
The reason this was worth mentioning wasn't because Henry wanted to speculate in stocks.
Just look at his experience at Stark Pictures.
His annual salary had exceeded ten million dollars, yet the truly massive profits came from Sony.
The corporate espionage settlement alone totaled two hundred million dollars, of which Henry happily pocketed sixty million.
To the real heavy hitters, claims about how profitable the stock market could be would only earn a couple of amused chuckles.
Their response would be:
"Too slow."
Compared to their methods, even robbing banks or printing money hardly seemed efficient.
The point of discussing Google was simply this:
The era when searching for information on a person through Google would be more effective than using an intelligence agency like the CIA had not yet arrived.
Furthermore, before social media became widespread, people did not routinely upload every detail of their lives onto the internet.
Older generations especially were often absent online—not necessarily because they distrusted technology, but because they never learned how to use it.
Still, after all the groundwork Henry had laid across the internet, he naturally had results to show for it.
At this point, he could freely enter virtually any government website or internal network without being detected.
The cybersecurity standards of the era were effectively nonexistent from his perspective.
There were still challenges, of course.
Government databases had not yet been integrated across departments.
Everyone maintained their own systems.
Even data formats lacked standardization.
Many older records had never been digitized at all.
Another source of online intelligence was media websites.
However, newspapers and television remained dominant, so online archives were limited.
Fortunately, Henry didn't need detailed information.
A basic résumé and personal profile would suffice.
Soon enough, George Stacy's background appeared before him.
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George Stacy.
A lifelong New Yorker from Queens.
After graduating high school, he joined the U.S. Army and served for three years.
He had been stationed overseas and performed exceptionally during his military career.
At one point he enrolled in the OCS program—the route allowing enlisted personnel to become commissioned officers.
Had he remained in the military, his future prospects would have been excellent.
Yet his military record ended after only three years.
The remainder of his career was spent in law enforcement.
After leaving the Army, George Stacy returned home to New York and joined the police force, beginning at the lowest rank.
From there he steadily climbed the ladder until reaching his current position as Chief of Patrol.
Practically speaking, he had reached the ceiling.
The only positions above him were Police Commissioner and Deputy Commissioner.
Those offices were political appointments.
The Commissioner was selected by the Mayor of New York City.
The Deputy Commissioner was selected by the Commissioner.
Both were civilian administrative posts rather than operational law-enforcement positions, each serving five-year terms.
Advancement to those jobs had little to do with seniority.
If a mayor wished, they could appoint someone with no policing background whatsoever.
Yet according to the news articles Henry found, George Stacy was considered a strong candidate to become New York City's next Police Commissioner.
Despite not overseeing a high-profile department such as the Special Operations Bureau or the Detective Bureau, he controlled the Patrol Services Bureau.
And that mattered.
The Patrol Bureau was the largest division within the police department.
It commanded all uniformed patrol officers.
By sheer personnel numbers, it was unquestionably the most important department in the NYPD.
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As for his family:
His wife, Helen Stacy, had died roughly ten years earlier.
He was now a widower raising one daughter.
Gwen Stacy, age fifteen.
A freshman in ninth grade at Standard High School in Queens.
The school was a rival of Midtown High, located in the Forest Hills neighborhood of the same borough.
Gwen's academic performance was outstanding.
She excelled in the sciences and had received excellent evaluations throughout elementary and middle school.
Unlike many children from single-parent households who spiraled downward after losing a parent, she was highly motivated and ambitious.
Everything Henry found suggested that this was not merely someone who happened to share the same name.
This was almost certainly that George Stacy.
Not that Henry had any designs on Gwen.
Even if the law wouldn't sentence him to death for making a move now, it would still start with several years in prison.
As a law-abiding alien, Henry had no intention of landing himself behind bars.
Incidentally, while conducting his research, Henry also found another familiar name in Midtown High's student roster:
Peter Parker.
Also a ninth-grade freshman.
Raised by his Uncle Benjamin Parker and Aunt May Parker.
Besides that conspicuously famous name, another student in Midtown High's records caught Henry's attention.
Jessica Campbell Jones.
Possibly the future Defender, wife of Luke Cage, and superheroine Jewel—Jessica Jones.
The moment Henry saw that name, he decided he didn't want to keep digging.
All he could say was that New York in the Marvel Universe was terrifying.
The day when a random falling brick would hit ten people and nine of them would turn out to be superheroes or supervillains was probably not far away.
Still, even if someone had no desire to step into the whirlpool, merely standing near its edge was often enough to get pulled in.
That was physics.
Or perhaps destiny.
One day, while accompanying Katharine Hepburn on a tiger walk through Central Park, Henry saw a handsome Slavic-looking man with a worn, world-weary aura approaching him.
"Mr. Brown," the man said. "I wonder if you still remember me?"
Henry extended a hand.
"Mr. John Wick."
"You helped me quite a bit back in Los Angeles. How could I possibly forget?"
At the same time, the Kryptonian found himself thinking:
Looks like I spoke too soon when I said I wanted to keep my distance from the New York Continental.
If they had sent John Wick to find him, it would be difficult to refuse outright and pretend he owed the man no courtesy.
At that moment, Katharine Hepburn spoke up from beside him.
"Henry, who's this handsome young man?"
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