Back in the olden days, kings had at least one wizard onhand basically 24/7 to do their calculations for them and help run the place. It's a system that worked so well, people are still writing books that have kings and wizards in them. That ought to tell you something.
You know that old saying about letting sleeping dogs lie? Now you know why, and it's not just because a sleeping dog that's been woken up might maul you just on general principle. What is the fucking point of disturbing something as peaceful as this, other than to prove to the world what a gigantic asshole you are?
There's simply no way he's going to find what he's looking for under all that concrete. But don't you want to pat him right between the ears anyway, just for trying?
I guess he really wanted a copy of BUTT.
What do you suppose this little superhero's top speed is with those tiny little legs? Just a hundred miles an hour? Two hundred? There's no way to measure it, because once he gets going, they blur so fast they rip the fabric of spacetime open in five directions simultaneously and causality resets itself. This might be the six hundred thousand billionth iteration of this universe and we would never, ever know the difference.
What's that look for, dude? We're not going to tell Mandy that thing you said about her in the locker room, man. Promise. No, really, we swear.