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Chapter 48: Tony Stark
"So... why are we here? Do you want to steal some race cars to modify?" the Old Bartender asked, a bit speechless.
New Jersey is located in the northeastern United States, not far from New York. Atlantic City is a coastal city, well-connected with convenient transportation and prosperous commercial trade. The two of them drove all the way, taking a shortcut into Atlantic City. Not long ago, they found a place to disguise themselves to facilitate their actions. The Old Bartender, having been on the run for years, was very skilled at makeup; for him, disguising himself was the most basic means of survival.
At Tony's repeated insistence, the two arrived here, at the largest and most famous racetrack in the area, just as a race was about to begin.
Spectators crowded from all directions, the vast stands packed to capacity. The fervent atmosphere and explosive emotions made people secretly click their tongues in wonder. From time to time, people could be seen holding flags and horns, yelling frantically and waving flags in support.
"To see someone," Tony said. "A very interesting person, a playboy and an arms dealer tycoon. I didn't expect to run into him here."
Tony stared at the racetrack, occasionally reaching up to scratch his head. The wig on his head made him extremely uncomfortable; fortunately, it wasn't glued on like the Old Bartender's, but simply worn.
The announcer opened the broadcast, enthusiastically speaking to all the spectators, and specifically introduced one of the racers on the field. Every word he uttered elevated the already fervent atmosphere to another level, finally reaching near madness! Especially some young, beautiful women, their emotions surging amidst the frenzied screams, faces flushed, looking as if they were about to faint.
"Let's welcome our final racer, the renowned genius, the helmsman of Stark Industries—Tony Stark!"
The entire venue instantly erupted. Countless spectators leapt to their feet, roaring and screaming aloud. Horns blared one after another, and countless vivid flags waved wildly. All the stands were a scene of jubilation, as if water had suddenly been splashed into a boiling oil pot.
"Tony! Tony! Look here! Oh, God, I can't take it, he's so handsome, so charming! I feel like he's even more handsome than Wayne... I'm about to pass out!" A young married woman clutched her chest, her prominent breasts rising and falling with her intense breathing. The sight made the eyes of the men next to her go wide.
The Old Bartender was also shocked by the people's frenzy. He leaned into Tony's ear and yelled, "You came just to see him? What's so great about him? Let's go do what we're actually here for!"
Ever since they set off, the Old Bartender had been obsessed with killing Vampires. He wanted to personally make those things pay a painful price.
On the racetrack, a middle-aged man waved his arms in all directions. Every gesture elicited a cheer from the stands, until all that remained in the stands was a single, unified chant: "Stark! Stark! Stark!"
The middle-aged man bowed deeply to the audience, his movements standard and impeccable. Then he repeatedly blew kisses towards the areas with more women, causing many women to faint on the spot from excitement.
Even from a long distance away, Tony could feel the flamboyant aura radiating from him.
Some men were very jealous and envious, grumbling amongst themselves, filled with extreme dissatisfaction and envy.
"Did you hear, Stark, that playboy, slept with the latest cover girl again last night? It's truly incredible. Did he not sleep with all of last year's *Maxim* magazine cover girls?"
The Old Bartender pressed, "You still haven't told me, why exactly are you watching Stark? That guy is highly respected and talented; all the big shots in America are backing him. Everyone wants to see him build more powerful weapons. Do you want him to build you a war vehicle?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was attracted by the billboards along the way...?" Tony explained. "Alright, I'm considering investing in Stark Industries. I want to buy some shares in the Stark Family, as money making money is the fastest way to get rich." Tony explained that he already had eight or nine million US dollars in hand. Furthermore, with the upcoming attack on Deacon, he would also seize a batch of valuable items like treasures, antiques, calligraphy, and paintings. Once converted to cash, he would have over ten million US dollars, so he might as well buy all the shares in Stark Industries.
The Old Bartender scoffed. Over ten million US dollars seemed like a lot, but thrown into a trillion-dollar corporation like Stark Industries, it would barely make a ripple.
"Not many people would easily sell shares in Stark Industries. And those who do sell would demand a very high price," the Old Bartender said.
"Don't worry about that, just watch," Tony said. Tony knew very well that when Stark went missing, and after his return when he announced the closure of the weapons division, the entire stock price of Stark Industries would plummet, and that would be the best time for him to make his move.
...
Meanwhile, Tony Stark removed his helmet, revealing a face drenched in sweat. Racing, such an exciting activity, was something he often participated in during his youth. In recent years, he hadn't enjoyed it as much as he did today, because there were always people stopping him, forbidding him from participating in such dangerous events.
Tony slowly walked towards the restroom. His loyal bodyguard, Happy, stood outside the door like an iron tower. He had originally intended to follow him in, but was rejected by the haughty Tony.
"Happy, I don't like it when a man stares at my back while I'm using the restroom," Tony said. "Just stand by the door."
What he didn't know was that several strangely dressed individuals, who had been ambushed in the restroom for a long time, were quietly preparing. As soon as Tony entered, caught off guard, they instantly grabbed and pinned him from behind, and a medicated cloth instantly covered his mouth and nose.
In his fading consciousness, Tony barely saw several strange figures, completely wrapped from head to toe, surrounding him. The gazes from behind their lenses seemed to carry a hint of mockery.
(end of chapter)
"So... why are we here? Do you want to steal some race cars to modify?" the Old Bartender asked, a bit speechless.
New Jersey is located in the northeastern United States, not far from New York. Atlantic City is a coastal city, well-connected with convenient transportation and prosperous commercial trade. The two of them drove all the way, taking a shortcut into Atlantic City. Not long ago, they found a place to disguise themselves to facilitate their actions. The Old Bartender, having been on the run for years, was very skilled at makeup; for him, disguising himself was the most basic means of survival.
At Tony's repeated insistence, the two arrived here, at the largest and most famous racetrack in the area, just as a race was about to begin.
Spectators crowded from all directions, the vast stands packed to capacity. The fervent atmosphere and explosive emotions made people secretly click their tongues in wonder. From time to time, people could be seen holding flags and horns, yelling frantically and waving flags in support.
"To see someone," Tony said. "A very interesting person, a playboy and an arms dealer tycoon. I didn't expect to run into him here."
Tony stared at the racetrack, occasionally reaching up to scratch his head. The wig on his head made him extremely uncomfortable; fortunately, it wasn't glued on like the Old Bartender's, but simply worn.
The announcer opened the broadcast, enthusiastically speaking to all the spectators, and specifically introduced one of the racers on the field. Every word he uttered elevated the already fervent atmosphere to another level, finally reaching near madness! Especially some young, beautiful women, their emotions surging amidst the frenzied screams, faces flushed, looking as if they were about to faint.
"Let's welcome our final racer, the renowned genius, the helmsman of Stark Industries—Tony Stark!"
The entire venue instantly erupted. Countless spectators leapt to their feet, roaring and screaming aloud. Horns blared one after another, and countless vivid flags waved wildly. All the stands were a scene of jubilation, as if water had suddenly been splashed into a boiling oil pot.
"Tony! Tony! Look here! Oh, God, I can't take it, he's so handsome, so charming! I feel like he's even more handsome than Wayne... I'm about to pass out!" A young married woman clutched her chest, her prominent breasts rising and falling with her intense breathing. The sight made the eyes of the men next to her go wide.
The Old Bartender was also shocked by the people's frenzy. He leaned into Tony's ear and yelled, "You came just to see him? What's so great about him? Let's go do what we're actually here for!"
Ever since they set off, the Old Bartender had been obsessed with killing Vampires. He wanted to personally make those things pay a painful price.
On the racetrack, a middle-aged man waved his arms in all directions. Every gesture elicited a cheer from the stands, until all that remained in the stands was a single, unified chant: "Stark! Stark! Stark!"
The middle-aged man bowed deeply to the audience, his movements standard and impeccable. Then he repeatedly blew kisses towards the areas with more women, causing many women to faint on the spot from excitement.
Even from a long distance away, Tony could feel the flamboyant aura radiating from him.
Some men were very jealous and envious, grumbling amongst themselves, filled with extreme dissatisfaction and envy.
"Did you hear, Stark, that playboy, slept with the latest cover girl again last night? It's truly incredible. Did he not sleep with all of last year's *Maxim* magazine cover girls?"
The Old Bartender pressed, "You still haven't told me, why exactly are you watching Stark? That guy is highly respected and talented; all the big shots in America are backing him. Everyone wants to see him build more powerful weapons. Do you want him to build you a war vehicle?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was attracted by the billboards along the way...?" Tony explained. "Alright, I'm considering investing in Stark Industries. I want to buy some shares in the Stark Family, as money making money is the fastest way to get rich." Tony explained that he already had eight or nine million US dollars in hand. Furthermore, with the upcoming attack on Deacon, he would also seize a batch of valuable items like treasures, antiques, calligraphy, and paintings. Once converted to cash, he would have over ten million US dollars, so he might as well buy all the shares in Stark Industries.
The Old Bartender scoffed. Over ten million US dollars seemed like a lot, but thrown into a trillion-dollar corporation like Stark Industries, it would barely make a ripple.
"Not many people would easily sell shares in Stark Industries. And those who do sell would demand a very high price," the Old Bartender said.
"Don't worry about that, just watch," Tony said. Tony knew very well that when Stark went missing, and after his return when he announced the closure of the weapons division, the entire stock price of Stark Industries would plummet, and that would be the best time for him to make his move.
...
Meanwhile, Tony Stark removed his helmet, revealing a face drenched in sweat. Racing, such an exciting activity, was something he often participated in during his youth. In recent years, he hadn't enjoyed it as much as he did today, because there were always people stopping him, forbidding him from participating in such dangerous events.
Tony slowly walked towards the restroom. His loyal bodyguard, Happy, stood outside the door like an iron tower. He had originally intended to follow him in, but was rejected by the haughty Tony.
"Happy, I don't like it when a man stares at my back while I'm using the restroom," Tony said. "Just stand by the door."
What he didn't know was that several strangely dressed individuals, who had been ambushed in the restroom for a long time, were quietly preparing. As soon as Tony entered, caught off guard, they instantly grabbed and pinned him from behind, and a medicated cloth instantly covered his mouth and nose.
In his fading consciousness, Tony barely saw several strange figures, completely wrapped from head to toe, surrounding him. The gazes from behind their lenses seemed to carry a hint of mockery.
(end of chapter)
