"Did you finish what I asked you to do?"
After the car drove smoothly for more than ten minutes, Anton suddenly broke the calm in the car and asked.
"According to your request, DC (Detective Comics) has been formally established, and you can get the approval procedures tomorrow," Betty nodded.
On the night that Anton booked a flight to San Francisco, he asked Betty if she would consider changing her job. She hesitated at first, but quickly thought it through and had a good idea. Before Anton left, she took the initiative to find him and agreed to become his personal assistant.
Today, as a genius director sought after by Hollywood, coupled with a sufficiently compelling family background, Anton had become one of the most famous "rich kids" in the United States.
His popularity was only surpassed by Tony Stark before the accident. Not to mention, the two were still friends.
After the accident, Tony Stark had disappeared for few weeks already. The news was heated, but people's attention to Tony Stark waned with each passing day. After all, many had resigned themselves to believing he was dead.
He had gone missing after being attacked by terrorist forces in Afghanistan, a place where artillery fire was rampant. The unknown fate of his life was just a fantasy for some who hoped for a happy ending. Most people suspected that Tony Stark had probably met his end.
This situation led many to reminisce about Anton Jameson, who was now not only a genius director but also the boss behind the Daily Bugle. According to rumors, he was likely to be the superhero Batman, who had quickly gained admiration since his debut.
The regret that accompanied Tony Stark's experiences was mirrored by the attention now focused on Anton Jameson. In a dark twist of fate, it almost seemed as if Anton was stepping into Tony's shoes.
However, what everyone did not know was that Anton's confidence in Tony's survival remained unwavering. If Tony Stark were to die, the world would lose at least half of its color.
Getting back to the subject, on the way back to the Daily Bugle from the airport, Betty continued her report: "The head of the screenwriting department is Toby. He worked with you very well before and happily accepted our invitation. As for Jim, he said he would think about it himself."
"The movie is just one aspect of our layout," Anton replied, nodding in satisfaction. The capitalist style shone through as he ordered, "Manga, animation, and merchandise must be arranged as soon as possible."
"I know," Betty replied.
"How long has Toby been in New York? I still have a lot of things to discuss with him," Anton inquired. "By the way, have you recruited the associate directors I told you about?"
"Three people agreed to our invitation, but everyone else declined," Betty informed him.
"Three people?" Anton touched his chin, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Forget it; in such a short period, you've done a very good job."
In the back-and-forth of their conversation, the car stopped on the side of the road at the building where the Daily Bugle was located. Anton and Betty got out of the car.
Back at the Daily Bugle, Phil dropped off his luggage, first heading to the finance room with the pay slip approved by Anton to collect a substantial bonus. He then excitedly left to head home with his newly acquired wealth.
Anton also gave him a vacation, asking him to return to work after Eddie arrived.
Sitting at his desk in the Daily Bugle, Anton made himself a cup of coffee, took a small sip, and breathed in deeply. Finally, he felt a sense of ease.
However, just before the end of the workday, Betty knocked on the door, her expression slightly awkward as she informed him, "Someone knows you are back and wants to see you."
"Who?" Anton asked, slightly puzzled.
"Winston from the Continental Hotel," Betty replied.
"Let him come in," Anton nodded.
Moments later, Winston pushed the door open. His expression was gentle, devoid of the rage that had marked their last encounter.
"Anton, should I say we met for the first time?" Winston smiled, his eyes assessing the young man before him, keenly aware that Anton was not a simple individual.
That night, Anton had embodied Batman and had threatened him like a demon emerging from the depths of hell—a memory that would linger with him.
"What's up?" Anton asked, too indifferent to pretend to be formal. Knowing they had an understanding, he smiled with interest. "I thought you would never want to see me again in your life."
"There is an adjudicator who wants to see you," Winston replied straightforwardly. "You must have an explanation regarding the Continental Hotel, right?"
"Adjudicator?" Anton raised an eyebrow, a smile on his lips but a hint of danger in his eyes. "Let her come in."
Winston hesitated slightly. "Uh, actually, she hopes you can meet her at the Continental Hotel."
"I do not belong to the high table, nor have I offended the high table," Anton's demeanor shifted, his expression darkening momentarily.
He looked at Winston coldly, a dangerous aura surrounding him as he slowly said, "On the contrary, the high table offended me! Go back and tell them that if they want to see me, they should send her to the Daily Bugle. If the high table wants to deal with me, let them feel free."
"I will convey your message exactly as you said," Winston replied, remaining composed. He didn't seem to harbor any fondness for the adjudicator either. After speaking, he turned and left.
As the workday drew to a close, Anton did not see the high table's arbiter. He didn't care much about the matter. The high table organization was not something he worried about.
To put it simply, the high table was a global empire of assassins bound by rules. All killers associated with the high table were required to follow its regulations.
Despite this structure, the high table did not dominate the killer world uniformly. Various killer organizations coexisted, competing for supremacy like martial artists in novels.
Anton understood that the high table consisted of twelve seats, with representatives from various criminal organizations, including the Camorra, the Mafia, and Russian mobs. Their controllers were spread across the globe, making them a complicated adversary to confront.
The Continental Hotel served as a mere outpost under the high table's influence, not its heart.
This is why Anton chose not to fixate on the high table behind the Continental Hotel after handling matters with the hotel, nor did he seek to dismantle it entirely.
If the high table acted sensibly, they would recognize that provoking Anton as a powerful enemy would be ill-advised. After all, it was not he who made the first mistake.
On the other side, within the Continental Hotel, the atmosphere was tense. A short-haired woman with an imposing presence regarded Winston, who wore a smirk, with a blank expression. "What did he say?"
"Not much," Winston replied. "The important part is that he asked you to see him, not the other way around. After all, in his opinion, we made the first mistake."
"We?" The adjudicator fixed Winston with a piercing gaze.
As the owner of the Continental Hotel, Winston's use of "we" suggested a shared burden, implying he was not willing to shoulder the blame alone. This phrase revealed Winston's deep-seated fear of Anton, a fear of the horrifying Batman who had emerged seemingly from nowhere.
"When do you plan to meet him?" Winston asked, breaking the silence.
"I will see him," the adjudicator said, her voice steady and unwavering. "However, not now."
…
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