"Tony Stark, you're the man I owe it all to!"
Anton was overjoyed as he saw his fan count hit the target. He practically bounced off the floor with excitement.
He had thought he'd have to wait until the next day to redeem the main Batman template, but thanks to Betty's brilliant hype campaign about "Tony's Last" project, the Batman movie had surged onto the hot search, drawing in a flood of viewers eager to support the supposed last work of "the late Tony Stark."
Fans who hadn't originally planned to watch the film felt compelled to buy a ticket, as if paying tribute. Once in the theater, many were blown away by the movie, finding it worth every cent and joining the Batman fan club.
The fan base was growing at a pace that thrilled Anton.
"Redeem!" Anton eagerly entered the system space, choosing the Batman template.
Suddenly, a remarkable transformation overtook him. His height shot up to 188 cm from 180cm, and his muscles tightened, pulsing with raw power. His abs, eight finely chiseled blocks, were now as hard as a steel plate.
At that moment, a surge of information flooded his mind.
A skill panel appeared before him, filled with abilities he could now access: Ultimate Physical Fitness, Unyielding Will, Master of Martial Arts, Master Detective, Master Tactician, Anti-Terrorism Specialist, Interrogation Expert, and Master of Disguise—the list went on and on.
As he absorbed the knowledge, Anton took a deep breath, marveling at Batman's achievements.
Bruce Wayne, he thought, was a man who had squeezed every ounce of human potential to its fullest. His skills, intelligence, and advanced tech arsenal were what made him the formidable figure Gotham needed.
Anton felt a tug in his mind, and suddenly he was wearing Batman's basic armor: the Bat Helmet, Bat Suit, Bat Gloves, Multi-Function Utility Belt, Bat Boots, Grappling Gun, and a host of other gadgets now accessible from his system toolbar.
"This is so cool!" he said, barely able to contain his excitement. Anton was quickly becoming addicted to the experience of embodying Batman.
When he explored the toolbar, he found he could summon various Bat-vehicles: the Batmobile, Batplane, Batmotorcycle, Batboat, Batjet, Bathelicopter, and more.
He selected the Bat Motorcycle. In an instant, a sleek, powerful machine with enormous tires and heavy firepower attachments appeared on his floor.
Anton hopped on, feeling the massive engine rumble as he twisted the throttle. The controls felt like a natural extension of his own body.
He dismounted after a while, satisfied, and, with a mental command, dismissed the bike along with the armor, returning to his usual self. It left him feeling oddly empty, as if he'd just been stripped of a powerful part of himself.
"I could maintain the Batman physique all the time and just say it's from intense fitness if someone pointed," Anton thought, stroking his chin.
But then the allure of the armor returned, and he summoned it again, basking in its cold, sleek feel. Now he understood why Tony Stark was so invested in building his Iron Man suits.
As he tested the armor's capabilities, he activated infrared scanning and thermal sensing. To his surprise, he noticed a heat signature approaching his window, inching closer from the outside.
"A thief?" Anton wondered. This was supposed to be a secure, high-end area with tight security, especially at night. Intrigued, Anton pulled up a chair by the window, watching the figure silently approach.
Outside, John Wick carefully opened the window and pulled back the curtains, only to freeze in shock.
Sitting in front of him was a man in sleek, high-tech armor, with two pointed ears on his helmet, gazing at him with an intense, almost amused expression. The man's lips curled into a grin, and then, as if by magic, he vanished.
Not good! Wick's instincts kicked in. He released his hold on the window frame and tried to jump to the lawn below, but before he could react, a force slammed into him, sending him sprawling onto the grass.
His mind was reeling, but his years of experience kept him moving as he struggled to his feet. The soft lawn had cushioned his fall, minimizing injury.
Before he could make it far, he felt another blow at his knee, and he rolled forward again. "Damn it!" he muttered, knowing this opponent was no ordinary target.
Realizing he couldn't outrun this armored figure, he whipped out his pistol, aiming toward the dark shape and steadying his breath.
A strange laugh, almost like a taunt, seemed to carry on the wind as the shadow moved closer. Wick's finger squeezed the trigger, and the silenced gun spat out a deadly bullet aimed squarely at the figure's chest.
Clang! The bullet met metal with a deafening sound, and John Wick's heart sank. Bulletproof armor. His thoughts ran wild.
Before he could process the thought, another strike came out of the dark, and his world went black.
When he regained consciousness, Wick found himself tied in a dim basement, every limb restrained. In front of him stood the mysterious man in the high-tech armor, arms folded, looking down on him with an almost regal authority.
"Let's talk." The man's voice was firm, commanding. "Who sent you here?"
Wick met his gaze, his face devoid of fear.
….
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