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Tony ultimately didn't make a move, letting the Old Bartender sleep soundly.
He could have taken the opportunity to kill the Old Bartender, ending everything cleanly, which would have been the most straightforward choice. But in the end, he didn't act, merely watching in silence, lost in thought.
Tony sighed, slumping onto the sofa, tapping the table unconsciously. The Old Bartender had become a crucial node; neither Tony nor the Vampire Faction could tolerate the Old Bartender falling into the other's hands alive, as that would mean their own intelligence and information had been leaked.
In other words, with the Old Bartender in his hands, the Vampire Faction would have every reason to suspect that he knew about the Vampires' God-Making Plan and had obtained detailed information from the Old Bartender.
To prevent further leaks and to obtain information they didn't know, they would inevitably move against the Old Bartender and Tony. Tony could not tolerate the Old Bartender being captured, as that would mean confirming to the other side that he knew about the God-Making Plan and specific details unknown to them.
But he damn well didn't know the specific details, and the Vampires wouldn't believe it either. Tony's attack on the Vampire Stronghold and killing the Thompson Family's leader was already an announcement to them that he knew everything.
The severe information asymmetry and the logical deadlock meant a confrontation was inevitable. No one could escape; there was no need for negotiation, nor was negotiation possible. The war had already begun.
"This is utterly troublesome; my plan to quietly get rich is ruined." Tony sighed repeatedly, feeling incredibly unlucky. He had originally intended to develop discreetly, participating in major events only after fully maturing, but clearly, that was no longer possible.
The Vampire Faction wouldn't let him go, and even if they claimed it was to make an example of him and uphold their dignity to the outside world, a Blood War was unavoidable.
He also didn't trust the Vampire Faction, fearing that if he handed over the Old Bartender for peace, they would then torture out enough information and ruthlessly kill Tony.
Neither side trusted the other, and neither would allow the Old Bartender to be in the other's possession.
Tony took out that phone and sent a message to the number: "Who exactly are you?" He waited for a while, but there was no response, so he put the phone back in his pocket.
"For self-preservation, killing the Old Bartender seems like a good option..."
Tony pondered. He didn't care about killing; he could mercilessly strike down anyone who threatened him.
He was certainly not someone who refused to kill without principle. He wouldn't adopt "no killing" as his code of conduct like The Flash and other Superheroes. Yet, the Old Bartender's existence already threatened Tony's safety, and he could absolutely kill him. But at this moment, he was thinking further ahead.
This was a Superpowered World, a world of Superheroes.
Tony had a vague premonition: whether he killed the Old Bartender or not felt more like taking a side. If he killed him, he would stand with the Evil Faction. If he didn't, he might not necessarily be accepted by the Hero Faction, but at least he wouldn't be easily viewed as an enemy.
It was as if someone was forcing him to decide, forcing him to make a choice, even expecting him to kill the Old Bartender and become an adversary to certain individuals.
"Who exactly is plotting against me..." Tony's face darkened.
The Old Bartender's role might not just be to make him fight the Vampire Faction to the death, but also to serve as a benchmark for judging Tony.
Tony turned his head, looking at the Old Bartender who was sleeping soundly, seemingly defenseless, his gaze flickering. He had never been a soft-hearted person; the Old Bartender had, after all, already threatened him.
The Old Bartender's sleeping posture was undignified, his back turned to Tony, as if utterly unconcerned, completely resigned to his fate.
"What role are you truly playing in all of this?" Tony sat on the sofa, staring at the Old Bartender for a long time. "It might not be as you said... perhaps you yourself understand that you're just a Chess Piece, but you refuse to say so... But who exactly is the Chess Player? Hehe!"
At this moment, the Old Bartender rolled over, mumbled a few words, and started snoring.
Tony took out the phone again. This might be the only clue. He could use it to track down someone; even if not the mastermind, they must be connected. But how to track them? He didn't understand hacker technology, didn't know any skilled hackers, didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D., and his own Transformer was still just an Ability Construct, not a mature lifeform, so it couldn't yet decipher computer languages like in the movies.
"Professor X or Magneto... I can only look for them..." Tony sighed. He didn't want to go near either of them; their abilities completely suppressed his, capable of easily thrashing him even with one hand tied behind their backs.
He spent a sleepless night. Dawn soon broke, and a round sun peeked a corner over the horizon, quietly observing the Earth.
Tony woke the Old Bartender up and asked him to help modify his motorcycle, inquiring what he would need.
"Modifying it is simple. You want to use it for combat, not just for safety and racing," the Old Bartender told Tony. This type of motorcycle mainly focuses on the energy circuit. "You can modify combat vehicles and control them to fight for you. Metal strength and energy transmission efficiency are the most important."
The Old Bartender analyzed, sounding quite insightful. He reminded Tony that while motorcycles were convenient to use, tanks and armored vehicles were the primary choice.
"If possible, get a few fifth-generation fighter jets for modification, and you'll be invincible," the Old Bartender boasted grandly, clutching a wine bottle. He claimed that if Tony acquired fifth-generation fighter jets, he could further modify them to create the strongest Killing Machines for Tony.
Tony asked if he could really modify fifth-generation fighter jets. The Old Bartender shamelessly admitted it was just boasting.
*Smack!*
Tony dragged the bruised and swollen Old Bartender, and following the route he provided, drove Optimus Prime to a large repair shop in the city center. This place was secretly the most famous local racing modification base, though it had ties to the underworld. Tony dropped him there, intending to watch him until he finished modifying a high-performance motorcycle.
This was Tony's original intention, but he hadn't expected it to become so troublesome.
At the large repair shop, the Old Bartender picked and chose, then casually called over staff members, asking them about various related parts, all while under the astonished gazes of the crowd.
Finally, he ran over to Tony, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth: "The parts and alloy models here are very comprehensive, but the prices are expensive. A single traction inverter alone costs a lot. I can modify a high-performance motorcycle for you, but I want five thousand US dollars as payment."
The Old Bartender wanted payment to buy alcohol, as most of the alcohol at Tony's place had been consumed by the two of them last night.
Tony readily agreed. The Old Bartender happily scurried off to begin modifications, gathering many motorcycles on the spot and busying himself with various parts and large machinery.
Tony cautiously watched his surroundings; he couldn't easily let the Old Bartender die yet.
After modifying Arcee, he could only quickly go find the nearby Professor X. After all, he couldn't cross half the Earth to search the vast oceans for Brotherhood Island. Tony could only take a gamble; he gambled on Professor X's character.
(end of chapter)
He could have taken the opportunity to kill the Old Bartender, ending everything cleanly, which would have been the most straightforward choice. But in the end, he didn't act, merely watching in silence, lost in thought.
Tony sighed, slumping onto the sofa, tapping the table unconsciously. The Old Bartender had become a crucial node; neither Tony nor the Vampire Faction could tolerate the Old Bartender falling into the other's hands alive, as that would mean their own intelligence and information had been leaked.
In other words, with the Old Bartender in his hands, the Vampire Faction would have every reason to suspect that he knew about the Vampires' God-Making Plan and had obtained detailed information from the Old Bartender.
To prevent further leaks and to obtain information they didn't know, they would inevitably move against the Old Bartender and Tony. Tony could not tolerate the Old Bartender being captured, as that would mean confirming to the other side that he knew about the God-Making Plan and specific details unknown to them.
But he damn well didn't know the specific details, and the Vampires wouldn't believe it either. Tony's attack on the Vampire Stronghold and killing the Thompson Family's leader was already an announcement to them that he knew everything.
The severe information asymmetry and the logical deadlock meant a confrontation was inevitable. No one could escape; there was no need for negotiation, nor was negotiation possible. The war had already begun.
"This is utterly troublesome; my plan to quietly get rich is ruined." Tony sighed repeatedly, feeling incredibly unlucky. He had originally intended to develop discreetly, participating in major events only after fully maturing, but clearly, that was no longer possible.
The Vampire Faction wouldn't let him go, and even if they claimed it was to make an example of him and uphold their dignity to the outside world, a Blood War was unavoidable.
He also didn't trust the Vampire Faction, fearing that if he handed over the Old Bartender for peace, they would then torture out enough information and ruthlessly kill Tony.
Neither side trusted the other, and neither would allow the Old Bartender to be in the other's possession.
Tony took out that phone and sent a message to the number: "Who exactly are you?" He waited for a while, but there was no response, so he put the phone back in his pocket.
"For self-preservation, killing the Old Bartender seems like a good option..."
Tony pondered. He didn't care about killing; he could mercilessly strike down anyone who threatened him.
He was certainly not someone who refused to kill without principle. He wouldn't adopt "no killing" as his code of conduct like The Flash and other Superheroes. Yet, the Old Bartender's existence already threatened Tony's safety, and he could absolutely kill him. But at this moment, he was thinking further ahead.
This was a Superpowered World, a world of Superheroes.
Tony had a vague premonition: whether he killed the Old Bartender or not felt more like taking a side. If he killed him, he would stand with the Evil Faction. If he didn't, he might not necessarily be accepted by the Hero Faction, but at least he wouldn't be easily viewed as an enemy.
It was as if someone was forcing him to decide, forcing him to make a choice, even expecting him to kill the Old Bartender and become an adversary to certain individuals.
"Who exactly is plotting against me..." Tony's face darkened.
The Old Bartender's role might not just be to make him fight the Vampire Faction to the death, but also to serve as a benchmark for judging Tony.
Tony turned his head, looking at the Old Bartender who was sleeping soundly, seemingly defenseless, his gaze flickering. He had never been a soft-hearted person; the Old Bartender had, after all, already threatened him.
The Old Bartender's sleeping posture was undignified, his back turned to Tony, as if utterly unconcerned, completely resigned to his fate.
"What role are you truly playing in all of this?" Tony sat on the sofa, staring at the Old Bartender for a long time. "It might not be as you said... perhaps you yourself understand that you're just a Chess Piece, but you refuse to say so... But who exactly is the Chess Player? Hehe!"
At this moment, the Old Bartender rolled over, mumbled a few words, and started snoring.
Tony took out the phone again. This might be the only clue. He could use it to track down someone; even if not the mastermind, they must be connected. But how to track them? He didn't understand hacker technology, didn't know any skilled hackers, didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D., and his own Transformer was still just an Ability Construct, not a mature lifeform, so it couldn't yet decipher computer languages like in the movies.
"Professor X or Magneto... I can only look for them..." Tony sighed. He didn't want to go near either of them; their abilities completely suppressed his, capable of easily thrashing him even with one hand tied behind their backs.
He spent a sleepless night. Dawn soon broke, and a round sun peeked a corner over the horizon, quietly observing the Earth.
Tony woke the Old Bartender up and asked him to help modify his motorcycle, inquiring what he would need.
"Modifying it is simple. You want to use it for combat, not just for safety and racing," the Old Bartender told Tony. This type of motorcycle mainly focuses on the energy circuit. "You can modify combat vehicles and control them to fight for you. Metal strength and energy transmission efficiency are the most important."
The Old Bartender analyzed, sounding quite insightful. He reminded Tony that while motorcycles were convenient to use, tanks and armored vehicles were the primary choice.
"If possible, get a few fifth-generation fighter jets for modification, and you'll be invincible," the Old Bartender boasted grandly, clutching a wine bottle. He claimed that if Tony acquired fifth-generation fighter jets, he could further modify them to create the strongest Killing Machines for Tony.
Tony asked if he could really modify fifth-generation fighter jets. The Old Bartender shamelessly admitted it was just boasting.
*Smack!*
Tony dragged the bruised and swollen Old Bartender, and following the route he provided, drove Optimus Prime to a large repair shop in the city center. This place was secretly the most famous local racing modification base, though it had ties to the underworld. Tony dropped him there, intending to watch him until he finished modifying a high-performance motorcycle.
This was Tony's original intention, but he hadn't expected it to become so troublesome.
At the large repair shop, the Old Bartender picked and chose, then casually called over staff members, asking them about various related parts, all while under the astonished gazes of the crowd.
Finally, he ran over to Tony, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth: "The parts and alloy models here are very comprehensive, but the prices are expensive. A single traction inverter alone costs a lot. I can modify a high-performance motorcycle for you, but I want five thousand US dollars as payment."
The Old Bartender wanted payment to buy alcohol, as most of the alcohol at Tony's place had been consumed by the two of them last night.
Tony readily agreed. The Old Bartender happily scurried off to begin modifications, gathering many motorcycles on the spot and busying himself with various parts and large machinery.
Tony cautiously watched his surroundings; he couldn't easily let the Old Bartender die yet.
After modifying Arcee, he could only quickly go find the nearby Professor X. After all, he couldn't cross half the Earth to search the vast oceans for Brotherhood Island. Tony could only take a gamble; he gambled on Professor X's character.
(end of chapter)
