Chapter 69: Making a Movie
Slam.
The hundred-page "Vought International Exclusive Artist Management Contract" slammed heavily onto the golden phoebe wood desk.
Lin An sat in his executive chair.
Holding a fork in his hand, he was leisurely cutting a piece of Wagyu beef.
"Take a look. My patience is limited. Before I finish this beef, I need an answer."
Across the desk.
Raven was still wearing her loose gray prison uniform.
She stared intently at the contract on the desk.
The bold words "Vought International All-Round Branding and Promotion Plan" on the first page made her eyes sting.
But what truly made it hard for her to even breathe was the liquidated damages on the final page—a string of numbers with over a dozen zeros.
One billion dollars.
"You're taking advantage of my misfortune!" Ravenslammed her hand on the desk.
"Only a ten percent cut?! Even my portrait rights, gene sampling rights, and even the adaptation rights to my dreams at night belong to Vought? You call this a management contract? Not even plantation owners buying slaves would dare write something like this!"
Lin An swallowed the beef in his mouth, picked up the glass of '82 Lafite beside him, and took a sip.
"Too low?" Lin An chuckled softly, pulling out a wet wipe to dab the corner of his mouth. "Then you can leave right now. The elevator is over there. Once you walk out this door, you'll be a penniless terrorist wanted nationwide by the Military, unable to even afford a burger."
Raven felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head. The hand she had slammed on the desk trembled uncontrollably.
What could she do if she left? Keep sleeping in the sewers? Keep being chased down the streets by humans with assault rifles?
Looking at the glamorous faces of her former compatriots on the holographic projection, the last line of defense in Raven's heart—something called faith—was collapsing rapidly.
Just as Raven gritted her teeth, preparing to push back on the contract terms to try and secure a fifteen percent cut—
*Knock, knock, knock.*
A few muffled knocks came from outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
This was the top floor of the Vought Tower, over four hundred meters above the ground.
Lin An's fork froze mid-air as he turned to look out the window.
Clinging to the outside of the explosion-proof glass was a red-and-blue figure.
The pose was incredibly flamboyant, like an oversized, colorful gecko.
Peter Parker, separated by three layers of laminated glass, pointed inside, then pointed at himself.
His mouth opened and closed, though it was impossible to tell what gibberish he was saying.
Lin An's eye twitched slightly.
He pressed a remote button under the desk.
With a hiss of air pressure, a hidden side ventilation window slowly slid open.
"Phew! I was suffocating out there!"
Peter Parker shot inside like a cannonball.
He did two incredibly flashy flips in mid-air before landing in a classic spider-crouch pose.
"Wow! Man! The wind up on this floor is crazy! I almost got knocked into the Hudson River by a lost pigeon out there!"
The moment the little spider landed, his mouth, which seemed to lack an off-switch, began running a mile a minute.
He stood up, brushing off his pilling spandex suit while looking around.
"Oh my god, is this real golden phoebe wood? I saw a piece the size of a fingernail at the Metropolitan Museum of Art! And this carpet, walking on it feels like stepping on cotton candy! Actually, I wanted to come through the front door, but the security guard downstairs was so mean. He saw my outfit and insisted I was some creep from the next block trying to sell cheap spandex. He almost pressed the alarm..."
"Alright, stop touching everything like a country bumpkin. That vase is from China's Ming Dynasty. If you break it, I couldn't afford to replace it even if I sold you."
Peter immediately pulled back his hand just as it was about to touch the blue-and-white porcelain. He stood there obediently, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Um... Mr. John, does what you said yesterday still stand? You know, that... Dragon Team thing? And the million-dollar annual salary with full benefits and insurance..."
Lin An didn't waste any words, pulling another contract out of his drawer and tossing it in front of Parker with a loud slap.
"It's all in here. A base salary of one million dollars, performance bonuses, full reimbursement for any suit damage, and Stark Industries will custom-make a brand-new carbon-nanotube suit for you."
As Lin An spoke, he pulled open the bottom drawer and lifted out a black briefcase bound in kraft paper.
With a few clicks, the briefcase popped open.
Inside were neat stacks of crisp, brand-new hundred-dollar bills, still smelling of fresh ink.
"This is a two-hundred-thousand-dollar signing bonus and relocation allowance. Once you sign, you can walk out with this money right now. Is that enough?"
The office fell dead silent.
There was only the low hum of the central air conditioning.
Beneath his mask, Peter Parker's eyes instantly widened like saucers. He stared intently at the stacks of cash that reeked of capitalistic excess, his Adam's apple bobbing frantically as he let out an incredibly loud gulp.
Two hundred thousand dollars in cash.
Delivering pizzas, his hourly wage was a pitiful ten dollars.
Without a moment's hesitation, the little spider didn't even look at the contract's contents, scribbling his name, "Peter Parker," on the final page.
"Boss! From this day on, New York's friendly neighborhood hero is Vought International's sharpest sword! I'll strike wherever you point! Even if you want me to steal the Statue of Liberty's torch right now to light your cigarette, I won't even blink!"
Parker scooped up the briefcase and clutched it to his chest, looking exactly like a husky protecting its food after hoarding hundreds of pounds of pinecones.
On the system panel: [Recruited Core Superhero: Spider-Man has joined the Vought faction. You will receive a 40% commission from him.]
Lin An snapped his fingers in satisfaction.
Raven stood by the entire time, watching this play out as if she were looking at an alien.
What on earth was wrong with this World?!
"Alright."
Lin An turned around, the smile vanishing from his face as he put back on his cold, capitalist mask.
"Time's up, blue-skinned lady."
Lin An pointed at the little spider, who was grinning foolishly while clutching his briefcase of cash.
"See that? I'm not short on people. The Dragon Team's roster is expanding rapidly. Tomorrow, some guy who got struck by lightning and mutated might come knocking on my door."
Lin An leaned forward slightly, looking at Raven with an intense, pressuring gaze.
"If I wanted to, I could hire a few A-list Hollywood actresses at any time, give them full-body blue genetic modification surgery, and package them as the next 'Mystique'. The audience doesn't care who you actually are; they only care if the image looks cool enough and if enough money was poured into the special effects."
"So, put away your pathetic pride."
Lin An tossed a pen at Raven's feet.
"This is your only chance to live in the light. Take it or leave it."
Only then did Parker, still clutching his briefcase of cash, notice Raven.
He stepped a couple of paces closer, the large eyes on his mask blinking as his mouth started running again.
"Wow, this lady is so cool. Is your skin naturally blue? Or is it a new nano-coating from Stark Industries? Does the color wash off when you shower? The fabric of your clothes looks so textured, where did you buy it..."
"Shut up. Say another word and I'm docking you ten thousand." Lin An didn't even turn his head.
"Yes, Boss! I promise to keep even my breathing down to the lowest decibel!" The little spider instantly stood at attention, clutching his briefcase as he retreated to the corner, quiet as a mouse.
She took a deep breath.
A struggle of resignation flashed in her eyes before they went completely dull.
Raven bent down and picked up the pen.
*Scribble, scribble, scribble...*
The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was exceptionally clear in the quiet office.
As she wrote the final stroke, Raven slumped back into her chair, looking as if all the energy had been drained from her body.
The deed was done.
From this day on, even her breath belonged to Homelander.
"Satisfied?" Raven bit her pale lip. "Fine, I'm your dog now. Tell me, what do you want me to do?"
"You said you could make Mutants live openly in the light, and make humans worship us like gods."
"How do you plan to start? Send us to assassinate the President? Or control members of Congress? What kind of power do you want us to show to make this damn Worldbow down?"
Raven's breathing was shallow and rapid; her mind had already begun mapping out various bloody schemes.
Lin An looked at her as if she were an idiot.
He stood up from his chair, walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the dreamlike, bustling city of New York below.
"Assassination? Terrorist attacks? Controlling congressmen?"
Lin An turned his head and let out a contemptuous laugh.
"Raven, you Mutants really have less imagination than sewer rats."
"Then what do you want to do?"
Lin An adjusted the tie of his custom-tailored suit, a crazy, fun-loving glint flashing in his eyes.
He uttered three light words that hit Raven's mind like a nuclear bomb.
"Make a movie."
Chapter 70: Mutant Origins—X-Men
Raven completely froze.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open so wide it could fit an egg. "What did you say?!"
Lin An walked back to his desk, picked up the newly signed contract, and gave it a flick.
"It's simple. I'm going to establish Vought Studios, and I've already thought of the title for our first movie. It'll be called X-Men: Mutant Origins."
"I'll have you make your debut as the female lead. And I'll portray that old geezer Eric as an anti-social terrorist."
"I'm going to package all the shady, dark secrets of you Mutants into a Hollywood popcorn blockbuster filled with special effects. Then, through global theaters, I'll shove it into the brains of billions of humans."
Lin An looked at Raven's completely frozen blue face, the smirk on his face growing even more wicked.
"Just picture it, Raven. When Mutants are no longer monsters causing panic in the news, but super idols saving the World on the big screen. When kids all over the Worldare clamoring to buy action figures of you."
"Meanwhile, that old geezer Eric can only hide in some dark Underground Room, watching you shine in all your glory on the giant screens of Times Square, watching his precious theories be treated by billions of people as hilarious villain lines in a movie."
Lin An leaned in close to Raven's ear.
"I want him to be so pissed off when he watches this movie in a theater that he has a brain hemorrhage on the spot. Isn't that way more thrilling than just killing him?"
Raven kept her mouth open, unable to utter a single syllable for the longest time.
At this moment, she stared at Lin An.
This wasn't just some capitalist monster.
This was a fucking devil who knew exactly how to destroy a person's soul!
Lin An tapped on the desk.
"Parker."
The red-and-blue spandex figure crouching in the corner suddenly sprang up.
"Boss! Your friendly neighborhood New York hero is on standby! Do you need me to hand out flyers in Times Square, or go buy coffee for this blue-skinned sister?"
Lin An pressed the intercom button on his desk.
"Madelyn, have the legal department draft a non-disclosure agreement. Also, go to the second-floor storage department and fetch a custom suit for our new employee. Make it in the style of... right, Spider-Man. Make the colors flashy."
"Understood!"
Lin An turned to look at Parker.
"Take the money home and settle things with your aunt. Hmm... if there's nothing else, go report to that abandoned Stark Industries park in Long Island first.
Vought Studios' first real-scene construction requires a lot of high-altitude work. Your spider silk is much more convenient than a crane, and we don't have to pay fuel tax."
Parker stood at attention and saluted.
"Guaranteed to complete the mission! A hundred tons of work only costs ten pizzas!"
Whoosh!
A red-and-blue afterimage darted through the ventilation window and into the clouds, leaving behind a trail of cheerful whoops.
Lin An pulled back his chair and walked out.
As he passed by Raven, he casually grabbed her collar and pulled her up.
"Let's go, leading lady. I'll take you to meet your crew."
Vought Tower, 68th floor, Multimedia Conference Center.
Dozens of executives from the public relations and marketing departments were as anxious as ants on a hot pan.
The news of Magneto's escape had been fermenting online for half an hour.
As the North American stock market opened, Vought International's stock price immediately plummeted by three percent.
The door was kicked open.
Lin An strode in and took the head seat.
Raven followed behind, pulling out a chair and sitting down under the executives' gazes as if they were looking at a monster.
"How's the situation developing?" Lin An asked as he sat down.
Madelyn quickly pulled up the data on the large screen.
"The top ten trending topics across America are completely dominated by Erik Lehnsherr. The federal government has declared a Level 2 state of readiness. They've called dozens of times..."
Lin An raised a hand. "This is a good thing."
The executives looked at each other.
"From now on, Vought International is officially establishing a wholly-owned subsidiary, Vought Studios. We will produce the X-Men series. Magneto's prison break will serve as our free pre-launch buzz."
Lin An pulled up a blank document from his terminal and projected it onto the large screen.
His fingers tapped on the virtual keyboard.
"I'll outline the script myself. First, Mutants must be portrayed as a group of super idols who are misunderstood by society but still strive toward the light. Second, the villain is Magneto, a balding, middle-aged, paranoid maniac who dreams of destroying humanity all day long."
A chorus of sharp gasps echoed from below. The director of the film department gulped hard.
"President, using a real terrorist as the prototype for a villain? Won't this anger the Brotherhood of Mutants and invite terrorist attacks?"
Lin An sneered.
"I'd love nothing more than for him to show up. If he dares to crash our party, I'll hang him from the top of the Empire State Building as a lightning rod on a global live stream. Remember, I make the rules in Hollywood."
Lin An called out the marketing department.
"Today, I want to see the teaser concept poster for X-Menplastered across every screen in New York Times Square. The tagline should read: 'Faced with prejudice, we choose to save the World.'"
He pointed at Raven beside him.
"This is our female lead, codenamed Mystique. Get her a top-tier makeup team and wardrobe consultants. No special effects makeup needed—she'll play her natural self. Arrange for her to walk the Hollywood Walk of Fame with eighty bodyguards. The spectacle must be grander than the President's."
Raven suddenly looked up.
Half a day ago, she was just an impoverished underground Mutant who couldn't even afford a meal, and now she was going to walk the red carpet on the Walk of Fame? With eighty bodyguards?
The sheer absurdity of capitalism gave her a wave of physical vertigo.
After wrapping up the assignments, Lin An pulled out his phone and dialed the direct line to the underground laboratory of Stark Industries.
It rang seven or eight times before being picked up.
"Tony Stark is not in. If you're here to sell insurance, press one. If you're that lunatic named John, please hang up immediately," Tony's annoyed voice came through.
The background was filled with the clanging sounds of metal cutting.
"Stark, stop playing dead. You owe me a favor."
"When did I ever owe you?"
"The ratings for the parenting variety show broke global records. Your stupid face trying to make fire by friction is now printed on every children's cereal box under Vought International. Stark Industries' stock price went up by five percent. You made billions for free; shouldn't you pay some interest?" Lin An said, without batting an eye.
There was a dull thud of a wrench hitting the floor on the other end of the line.
"You have the nerve to bring that up! I almost got a migraine from it!"
Lin An ignored his protest.
"I'm requisitioning that abandoned park in Long Island. I'm setting up a studio there this afternoon. Your Jarvis has pretty good computing power; lend him to me as a holographic special effects renderer for post-production."
"Are you out of your mind? Jarvis is used to manage my armor legion and the entirety of Stark Industries! And you want to use him to render movie special effects?!" Tonyroared.
Lin An's tone remained completely flat.
"Not lending him? Fine. I'll immediately have the PR department send the internal surveillance footage of you forging iron shirtless in an Afghan cave to all the major media outlets. The headline will be: Shocking! Playboy Tony's Wilderness Survival: You Won't Believe What He Did in a Cave!"
Dead silence.
Three seconds later.
"You win! Access has been granted to your terminal. Don't break my main server. Also, Stark Industries' exclusive sponsor logo must be displayed at the end of the movie, and the font size must be twice as large as Vought's!"
"No problem."
The abandoned park in Long Island. 3:00 PM.
The entire park had been fully taken over by Vought International's construction crew.
Dozens of heavy machinery rumbled into action.
Peter Parker changed into a brand-new suit of dark red and deep blue.
The carbon-nanotube material perfectly conformed to his muscular contours, and the black spider emblem on his chest reflected a cold, metallic luster under the sunlight.
The texture was ten thousand times better than his old, ragged pajamas.
He felt like he could punch right through a main battle tank now.
"Hey! Up there! Pull Steel Frame No. 7 over a bit!" the construction supervisor bellowed from the ground through a megaphone.
Parker hung upside down from a fifty-meter-high crane tower and flicked his wrist.
Thwip!
A thick, specially-made web line precisely wrapped around the multi-ton steel frame.
With a sudden burst of strength from his legs, he dragged the massive steel frame into its designated position.
"Done! No need to thank me! By the way, is dinner provided? I want a pizza with extra cheese!" Parker swung through the air in an incredibly showy arc.
In the distance, a stretched, bulletproof Lincoln pulled up on an open patch of ground.
The car door opened.
Raven stepped out of the car.
She hadn't transformed into a human appearance, still retaining her blue skin.
However, she had changed into a deep black, custom-tailored haute couture gown designed by a top designer in Paris. Around her neck hung a Cartier necklace worth a million dollars.
Dozens of bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses surrounded her protectively.
On the periphery, seven or eight assistants holding reflector boards, parasols, and chilled sparkling water followed her every step.
Staring at this exaggerated setup, Raven looked down at the pigeon-egg-sized diamond ring on her finger.
She fell into deep self-doubt.
Spending the first half of her life hiding and running around with Eric, sleeping in sewers, and eating expired canned food—what on earth was all that for?
Is this what it feels like to be a human idol?
No wonder those silly students of Charles smiled so happily.
This is actually amazing.
The high seas of the Atlantic Ocean.
An unmarked, old cargo ship tossed violently amidst the wind and waves.
In the bottom hold.
Under a dim wall lamp, a stern-faced old man sat upright on a wooden crate.
"Boss, we have safely sailed out of United States territorial waters," a fierce-looking Mutant reported in a low voice, pushing open the cabin door.
Eric did not open his eyes.
"Don't worry about Raven. She is a capable warrior. Once we re-establish the Brotherhood in Sokovia, I will make her understand that for the great revival of Mutants, necessary sacrifices are a price that must be paid."
His voice was raspy, carrying absolute coldness and arrogance.
"Yes." The subordinate nodded repeatedly, walking over to turn on the old satellite television on the bulkhead. "Let's see the news outside. Hehe, those foolish humans must be scared out of their wits by now."
The screen flickered twice, displaying a live broadcast from New York Times Square.
There were no panicking crowds fleeing in terror.
There was no heavily armed military enforcing martial law.
On dozens of giant LED screens, the same highly visually striking poster was rolling on repeat.
Right in the center of the poster was the stunningly beautiful Mystique, Raven, wearing her haute couture gown.
She wore a diamond-encrusted crown on her head, stepping on a highly ironic dark red metal helmet.
Eric would recognize the style and curve of that helmet even if it were turned to ash.
At the very bottom of the poster was a line of giant, bold fluorescent pink text:
[Vought Studios' Annual Blockbuster 'X-Men' is in Pre-Production!]
[The Mutant Idol Group will show you what true super power is!]
[Friendly Tip: The prototype for the film's ultimate villain, 'Magneto Geezer,' has escaped from prison. A reward of 500k is offered for any clues!]
Crack.
The two iron nails Eric was playing with in his hands were instantly crushed into iron powder by the out-of-control magnetic force.
Veins bulged out one by one on his forehead.
"Homelander—!!"
Chapter 71: Preparing the Crew, Charles's Guilt
Vought Tower, 38th-floor multimedia conference room.
Smack!
A thick stack of two hundred A4 pages was slapped heavily onto the conference table, with three bolded words printed on the cover: X-Men.
"Oh my God, is this thing really going to get me on the cover of Time magazine?" Iceman Bobby held the script in both hands, so excited that cold air was seeping from his fingertips, almost freezing the pages brittle.
Beside him, Cyclops Scott pressed hard on his ruby-quartz glasses. Though he tried his best to maintain a poker face, his trembling jaw gave him away.
No kidding, who wouldn't want to be a Hollywood superstar?
At the end of the conference table.
Lin An sat with his legs crossed on the mahogany table, spinning a fountain pen in his hand.
"Wipe those foolish, uncultured looks off your faces."
Lin An chewed his gum and spoke indistinctly, "This is only the first origin prequel. As long as the box office explodes, next year's Super Bowl will be your personal runway."
From the very edge of the long table, the faint hum of a wheelchair motor drifted over.
Charles Xavier sat with his hands crossed over a blanket, a look of wariness on his aged face.
Upon hearing that Homelander was planning to make a movie starring his students, he had immediately rushed to Vought International to sit in on the meeting.
He just couldn't put his mind at ease.
Pushing Mutants into the global spotlight to make a movie?
Without even opening the script, Charles was already imagining a malicious political propaganda film where Mutants were smeared as bloodthirsty monsters and ultimately purged by human justice.
"Professor, don't push yourself if you haven't fully recovered yet. If you get too excited later and burst another blood vessel, Vought International won't cover your medical bills."
Lin An glanced at the old bald man, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Charles took a deep breath, his voice gentle but carrying a stubborn edge.
"Mr. John, cinema is the most powerful weapon for spreading ideas. If this so-called movie is meant to peddle panic, then I will absolutely not allow my students to participate in such a filthy—"
"Stop, stop, stop."
Lin An rolled his eyes, cutting off the old man's lecture mid-sentence.
He picked up the remote and pressed a button.
The hundred-inch holographic screen behind him lit up instantly, and the plot outline for X-Men cascaded down like a waterfall.
"Listen up, everyone. The theme of this movie is sacrifice and redemption."
Lin An instantly switched to a somber, oratorical mode, his voice dropping low.
"The plot is simple. A group of young Mutants with extraordinary abilities originally suffer from injustice and discrimination at the bottom of society. But when Magneto, an extreme terrorist with magnetic control, attempts to launch a nuclear missile to destroy New York, it is this very group of Mutants, shunned by humanity, who step forward!"
"They brave the cold stares of the World, shielding humanity from a steel Storm with their own flesh and blood! They rescue crying human little girls from the ruins!
"Under the sunlight over the ruins, they swear an oath: Power knows no good or evil, only the person who wields it!"
Lin An spun around suddenly, leaning his hands on the conference table and staring intently at everyone.
"I want billions of viewers crying in theaters as they applaud the Mutants! I want them to understand that Mutants are not monsters—they are the fucking pioneers of the next stage of human evolution! They are the heroes saving this Planet!"
The conference room fell dead silent.
Iceman, Cyclops, Storm, and the rest of the Mutants were already fired up, their eyes burning with fanaticism for this grand mission.
Meanwhile, Charles Xavier, the Professor X who had dedicated his life to the peaceful coexistence of Mutants and humans, was gripping the armrests of his wheelchair tightly.
His brilliant bald head was flushed slightly red from sheer shock.
Power knows no good or evil?
Using love and tolerance to reform the World?
These words... aren't they the fucking speech I usually give at the opening ceremony of the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?!
No, this guy explains it even more thoroughly than I do, and it's way more inspiring!
I've taught for decades, and every time I go to lobby Congress, I get kicked out like a lunatic. Yet with just a few words, he elevates the status of Mutants to the level of humanity's guardians?!
Charles couldn't help but feel his eyes well up as a wave of guilt washed over his heart.
It turned out that beneath his brutal mask, there truly lay a pure, burning heart dedicated to the rise of Mutants.
Making such a positive, inspiring movie is ten thousand times more meaningful than guarding that lousy school!
What kind of saintly living Buddha is this man?!
Ding! Detected World-class telepath Charles Xavierplunged into extreme worldview shattering and mental shock!
Popularity Points +200,000.
Triggered Cultural Evangelism Critical Hit! Popularity Points are skyrocketing!
Hearing the beautiful system notifications in his mind, Lin An almost burst out laughing.
The old bald guy is so easy to fool.
A few classic mainstream Hollywood cliches completely fried his brain.
What human peace? I just want to milk you freaks for every drop of traffic you're worth.
Bang!
Just as the atmosphere was turning sacred, a loud bang echoed from the middle of the long table.
Mystique Raven suddenly stood up.
"You lied to me!"
Raven grabbed the script and pointed at the character profile page.
"Where is the female lead you promised?! In the whole movie, I'm just carrying out assassinations and planting bombs for Magneto, and in the end, I get blasted into the Atlantic Ocean by a laser beam from Cyclops?! I look like a total clown! You call this promoting me?!"
Raven was shaking with rage.
This wasn't star-making; this was nailing her to the pillar of shame as a villain forever!
The people around her immediately cast sympathetic glances.
Without missing a beat, Lin An picked up his iced Americano from the table and took a sip.
"Raven, you don't know shit about the art of cinema." Lin An looked at her as if she were illiterate.
"Is a villainous female lead not a female lead?"
"This is called a prequel's setup for redemption! Understand? What do audiences love to see most? They love seeing a lost soul find their way back!"
Lin An walked over to Raven and leaned down over her, projecting an immense sense of pressure.
"The more vicious and cold-blooded you are in the first movie, the more tension your inner struggle and pain will have! By the second movie, when you realize Magneto is just using you, you will have a sudden epiphany. To save the main cast, you block a fatal blow, collapsing in a pool of blood on a rainy night, shedding a single, clear tear..."
Lin An snapped his fingers.
"That is a character arc! Ruthless at first, redeemed later. I guarantee that once this movie is released, male fans worldwide will be crying themselves to sleep under their blankets for you! If you keep following that old man with a broken metal pot on his head to sleep under bridges all over the World, can he ever write such a sexy script for you?"
Raven was stunned.
She looked down at the script, then up at Lin An's sincere, almost glowing eyes.
Uh...
It seemed... like he had a point? Drawing hate as a villain early on, then taking a detour to become a goddess later?
"Fine... fine."
Raven ran a hand through her hair in frustration, sat back down, and muttered under her breath.
"But my face must take up a fifth of the promotional poster."
PUA successful.
Lin An gave himself a mental pat on the back for his persuasive skills.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the conference table, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Scarlet Witch Wanda was holding her script, her mouth curling into a massive grin that almost reached her ears.
She had originally thought that by signing her life away, she would probably end up as some background extra in this script.
But when she opened the script, oh boy.
The script clearly stated that during the final battle, at the life-and-death moment when Magneto controls tens of thousands of tons of metal Storm to shred the main characters...
It was her, Wanda!
Shrouded in crimson Chaos Magic, she descends from the sky and tears that steel fortress apart with one hand!
Wanda's heart pounded wildly.
She stole a glance at Lin An.
Although this man was brutal in his methods and quite kinky in bed...
...his aesthetic taste and vision were simply perfect!
If they shot it according to this script, she would be the absolute main heroine of the good guys!
All her suffering and playing the servant for him these past few days hadn't been in vain!
Beside her, Quicksilver Pietro was also repeatedly studying a few lines in the script.
He looked up at Lin An, his rebellious attitude against capital long gone, replaced by a look of eagerness.
"Um... big boss."
Pietro cleared his throat.
"This rescue scene where I save the civilians of an entire block in 0.01 seconds is indeed pretty cool, perfectly capturing my usual style. But I feel the lines are a bit thin.
"How about after I finish eating my lollipop, I add a line: 'I, Quicksilver, the fastest man on Earth'?.
"Doesn't that line fit my wild and untamed persona better?"
Pietro rubbed his chin, still fantasizing.
Tsk, so cool.
This brother-in-law, who had somehow sweet-talked his sister into bed, suddenly didn't seem so annoying anymore.
This guy was alright; when there was a chance to show off, he actually let you do it!
"Granted," Lin An waved his hand dismissively.
"Figure out whatever lines you want to add yourself. I only have one requirement—"
Lin An slapped the table hard, snapping everyone's attention back.
"Everyone, hurry up and memorize your lines! Play yourselves!"
"Special effects? Screw special effects! We at Vought Studios don't keep useless green screen editors on the payroll! You guys are all actual, real-deal superpowered individuals, why the hell would we need cheap CGI?"
Lin An pointed at Iceman, "For that extreme blizzard scene, I want you to actually freeze a section of the Hudson River!"
Then he pointed at Cyclops, "The demolition crew is only responsible for planting the C4. When it detonates, you'll tank it directly with your lasers! No stunt doubles! I want unprecedented realism!"
Finally, his cold gaze swept across the room.
"Time is tight. In one month, I want to see this unprecedented movie in the eyes of the global public. If anyone stumbles on their lines and delays the schedule..."
The smile on Lin An's face gradually faded, a hair-raising crimson light flashing in his eyes, "I will strap them to a Stark satellite and hurl them into space to shoot Gravity 2."
Everyone in the conference room instantly sat up straight, holding their breath.
No one thought he was joking.
This tyrant was truly capable of doing it.
"Very well, meeting adjourned. Get the hell out of here and memorize your lines."
Looking at this group of top-tier superpowered wage-slaves, all thoroughly managed.
They lined up to leave one by one, earnestly holding their scripts.
Lin An leaned back in his chair and let out a comfortable sigh.
Satisfying.
The Marvel Universe?
I'm going to make this Universe bear the name Lin.
Chapter 72: The Warm-up Press Conference, Accidentally Trespassing into the Heavenly Palace
A week later, at the hotel venue.
*Pop!* A champagne cork shot into the air, hitting the crystal chandelier in the penthouse ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria.
The New York night was completely set ablaze.
Lin An swirled the Lafite in his hand, leaning against the railing of the second-floor VIP terrace as he looked down at the boiling crowd below.
It was absolutely crazy.
In the first-floor lobby, hundreds of media reporters with cameras and microphones surrounded Raven and several X-Men students like sharks smelling blood, packing the place to the gills.
The flashing lights were fast enough to blind anyone.
"Miss Mystique! Is your role as the female lead villain in *X-Men* a reflection of your true self? What is your actual relationship with Magneto? What made you turn over a new leaf?"
"Mr. Cyclops! Could you please take off your glasses and let us see your real face? Is it true that there are rumors of an affair between you and Storm on set?"
"If you don't mind being turned into a pile of shredded meat, I can take them off,"
Cyclops shot back with a dark joke.
Dressed in a haute couture gown, Raven was pushed back repeatedly, the smile on her face looking worse than a sob.
Her blue scales shimmered under the lights, but no one found her terrifying; the reporters looked at her as if they were staring at a mountain of gold.
These Mutants, who used to have to hide in the sewers, had never seen such a grand spectacle before.
Lin An watched from upstairs, thoroughly amused.
What did these ordinary people used to watch when they watched blockbusters?
A bunch of Hollywood actors paid tens of millions standing in front of green screens waving like idiots, with hundreds of millions spent on post-production special effects.
Now? Living, breathing superpowered individuals were acting in movies for you in person!
No wirework, no special effects—it was all fucking real-deal magic and mutations!
This bombshell of news instantly sent netizens around the World into a frenzy.
[Thank you, Homelander! Who would have thought that one day these superheroes would shoot movies for us in person?]
[OMG! No more watching those trashy movies with cheap five-cent special effects. This is a real superpower brawl!]
On the top ten trending lists of major social media platforms, the names of Vought Studios and *X-Men* occupied a whopping nine spots.
Boy band survival shows, celebrity affairs, presidential elections, and Wang Feng's concerts were all utterly crushed and rubbed into the dirt.
As for Magneto, who had just escaped prison and was planning his next terrorist attack?
Lin An pulled out his phone and swiped the screen.
Oh, poor old Magneto. His prison-escape warrant was pitifully squeezed down to the fifteenth spot on the trending list.
Clicking on it, the comments below were all asking: "Is this old man the prototype for the ultimate villain in the movie? So he broke out just to do offline promotion for the film? Vought International is truly powerful!"
Lin An almost spat out the red wine in his mouth.
Brilliant.
If old Magneto saw these netizens' comments, he would probably be angry enough to detonate Earth's magnetic field right in the Bermuda Triangle.
[Ding! Fanatical anticipation for "X-Men" detected from global netizens. Cultural subversion effect is excellent! Popularity Points +500,000!]
[Current Popularity Points Balance: 31,000,000]
Hearing this mechanical voice, which sounded like heavenly music in his head, Lin An sighed comfortably.
The leeks are growing so well, I can't even harvest them fast enough.
He was only a few million away from redeeming the Steel Body.
Just then, a sour voice came from beside him.
"Not bad, buddy. You stole the entire spotlight tonight all by yourself."
Lin An turned his head. Tony Stark, holding a martini and wearing an extremely flashy dark burgundy suit, was leaning against a nearby pillar with a thoroughly displeased look on his face.
As the head of Stark Industries, he was usually the absolute center of attention wherever he went.
But today, when he walked in through the main entrance, only a few intern reporters casually took two photos of his profile before turning around to chase Iceman for an autograph.
This dealt a massive blow to Tony's inflated ego.
"Stark, don't look at me like a resentful housewife. Doesn't your Stark Industries have the title of exclusive sponsor?"
Lin An heartlessly bumped Tony's shoulder.
Tony curled his lips.
"That's nothing! My money was made by pouring real gold and silver into building armor. But look at you—you just get a few superpowered idols and the whole World stuffs money into your pockets!"
Tony took a sharp gulp of his drink, his eyes darting around as he lowered his voice and leaned in.
"Hey, brother, let's make a deal. Since superpowered people making movies is so trendy, how about... you get me a role too?"
Tony rubbed his hands together, a flash of excitement in his eyes.
"With my looks, my physique, plus my cool sets of iron suits, playing the second male lead isn't asking too much, right? I won't charge you a salary, and Stark Industries will fully fund my entry into the cast. How about it?"
Lin An looking at Tony's eager expression, his heart holding back crazy laughter.
This playboy had taken the bait.
"Oh, Tony, this is a Mutant movie. Why is an ordinary person like you trying to join the fun?"
Lin An deliberately dragged out his words, putting on a difficult expression.
Tony grew anxious.
"What's wrong with being ordinary! A single palm repulsor blast from my armor could blow those little kids away! Who says ordinary people can't be super idols?"
Lin An stroked his chin, his gaze turning deep.
He set down his glass, placed both hands on Tony's shoulders, and spoke with absolute sincerity, looking exactly like a supervisor at a pyramid scheme rally.
"Buddy, you are my best brother in this World. How could I let you demean yourself by playing a minor role for those Mutants?"
Tony's eyes lit up.
Lin An patted his chest.
"I've already planned it out for you! Once *X-Men* wraps up, I will immediately launch a project tailored specifically for you—an absolute masterpiece of individual heroism! I've even thought of the title. It'll be called *Iron Man*!"
Lin An quickly ran through the original plot in his head and dished it out effortlessly.
"The plot is already clear to me. It'll follow you, a dashing billionaire, who awakens a sense of mission to protect humanity during a terrorist attack in Afghanistan!
In a dark cave, relying on a pile of scrap metal, you hammer out the first-generation armor, and then dominantly declare to the entire World—I am Iron Man!"
"Fuck!" Tony blurted out a curse, not even noticing that his drink had spilled.
The imagery instantly vivid in his mind.
A genius, billionaire, playboy, reborn from a desperate situation for the sake of peace, and finally pulling off the ultimate show-off in front of the entire World!
This plot, this character concept—it was fucking ripped straight from the depths of Tony Stark's soul!
"John! You truly are my good brother!"
Tony grabbed Lin An's arm in excitement, wishing he could swear a blood brotherhood right then and there. "This script is brilliant! When do we start? I'll have Jarvis clear out a practical set tonight!"
"I know you're anxious, but don't rush just yet!"
"The script still needs some polishing."
"Alright, but don't lie to me!"
Tony nodded in satisfaction. He truly was a good brother, always keeping him in mind for the good stuff.
"But Stark, since I've prepared such a great gift for you, shouldn't an experienced driver like you introduce me to some of the first- and second-tier Hollywood actresses down there?"
Lin An leisurely adjusted his tie, his gaze wandering over the gorgeously dressed women downstairs.
Tony paused, following Lin An's gaze.
There were indeed many Hollywood actresses downstairs who had squeezed in just to ride the coattails of the event, wearing deep V-necks and backless dresses, wishing they could press their chests right against the lenses.
Tony raised an eyebrow, instantly catching his drift.
He clicked his tongue in disgust.
"John, you're thinking too small, aren't you?" Yet, a look of disdain unique to high-end players surfaced on Tony's face.
"Those Hollywood actresses act all pure and innocent in front of the camera, but behind the scenes, they've long been worn out by producers and directors. You're Homelander, the President of Vought International. Is there any fun in playing with other people's leftovers?"
Tony set down his glass and mysteriously beckoned Lin Anover.
"Come with me. Today, big brother will show you what a real high-end playground looks like."
Lin An's heart skipped a beat.
*Holy crap, throwing an orgy and not inviting me?*
Without hesitation, he tossed his glass aside and followed Tony toward the private VIP elevator deep in the corridor.
The elevator went straight to the hidden twenty-fifth floor of the Waldorf Astoria.
With a soft *ding*, the elevator doors slid open.
What met their eyes was not a noisy nightclub dance floor, but a dimly lit corridor lined with thick carpeting.
A faint scent of premium sandalwood wafted through the air.
Four burly men, all over two meters tall with muscles bulging like rocks beneath their suits, stood at the entrance.
Upon seeing Tony, the four hulking men bowed in unison.
"Welcome, Mr. Tony."
"Does my friend here need his credentials verified?"
"Of course not. This is Lord Homelander. It is our honor to have him visit our club."
The burly man naturally recognized the superstar and immediately bent his waist with deep respect.
Lin An looked around curiously.
There were no security cameras, no signs—it was as secretive as an underground nuclear bunker.
Tony wore the smile of an experienced veteran.
"No one below the top hundred of the Forbes list is even qualified to enter this place. The girls inside range from the youngest daughters of fallen European nobility to top-tier campus queens fresh out of Ivy League schools."
"There are even top international supermodels specially trained for this. They are all clean, well-behaved, and absolute perfection."
Lin An was deeply shocked. He had only heard of places like the "Heaven on Earth" club before, but this was a real eye-opener.
Tony turned around, looking at Lin An, who wasn't currently wearing his blonde hunk face, and suddenly hesitated.
"By the way, John, do you want to cover up a bit? Maybe get a mask from the locker room?" Tony kindly suggested.
"Just in case some blind fool takes a photo and leaks it to the tabloids. Besides, don't you have that smart and capable secretary, Natalie, back home? Aren't you afraid she'll get jealous and blow up your office?"
Hearing this, Lin An scoffed dismissively.
"Are you kidding me, man? I'm not a henpecked husband like you. My woman isn't Pepper."
Tony was about to argue.
Lin An strode forward with his hands in his pockets, his "I am the lord of the World" dominance leaking out unmistakably.
"I, Homelander, do whatever the fuck I want."
"Even if the front-page headline tomorrow is about me hosting a massive orgy here, those netizens will only praise me for being genuine and say I'm driving the GDP of the adult entertainment industry."
Lin An stopped, turned to look at Tony, and held up three fingers.
"And let me correct you. It's not one secretary."
"It's three."
Tony froze in place for a solid three seconds.
He stared at Lin An's completely unapologetic face, unable to squeeze out a single word for a long time.
Finally, this universally acknowledged top playboy of America gave him a thoroughly convinced thumbs-up.
"Fuck you. When it comes to being shameless, you're number one on Earth."
Pushing open the heavy, double-leaf red sandalwood door,
Lin An instantly felt like he had opened the gates to a whole new World.
A background track started playing in his mind.
*Accidentally~ trespassing into the Heavenly Palace...*
Chapter 73: Criticism! It Must Be Severely Criticized!
Pushing open the doors.
There was no deafening, heavy bass blasting, nor any blinding, spinning disco balls.
What greeted him was a cool scent, a blend of polar cedar and faint white tea.
Lin An paused in his tracks.
He had expected to see a glittering, modern-day nightclub, but what lay before him was an astonishingly spacious indoor wonderland.
Beneath his feet was lapis lazuli, polished so seamlessly that not a single joint could be seen.
Hmm... this level of craftsmanship was at least the work of an eighth-grade fitter.
Watching Lin An examine the floor, Tony looked utterly speechless.
"Buddy, you're staring at the floor instead of the beautiful waitresses ahead?"
Lin An looked up and said indignantly,
"Do you know anything about machining? This is true zero-tolerance! Damn right! The nation's 'crap'! The people's 'nuts'! The company's 'prick'!"
Tony was completely bewildered.
What the hell was that?
Lin An shook his head and sighed. How lonely it was at the top.
He continued walking forward.
Above him was a dome nearly thirty meters high, where a holographic projection simulated a brilliant starry sky free of light pollution.
The sound of trickling water came from a white jade rockery on one side, and a thin mist filled the air, instantly relaxing one's pores.
In a nearby waterside pavilion, several women in elegant, simple long dresses were playing harps and flutes.
This is a freaking club?
Lin An almost thought he had accidentally stumbled into the backyard of some god from Norse mythology.
"Alright, alright, stop acting like a country bumpkin."
Tony casually picked up two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and handed one to Lin An.
"This place is called 'Avalon'. The best is yet to come."
Lin An took the champagne and followed Tony down a long corridor covered in wool carpets.
Passing by a semi-open indoor golf simulator area, Lin Anspotted a few familiar faces.
A gray-haired chairman of a top Wall Street investment bank, dressed in a loose silk bathrobe, was holding a golf club.
Kneeling beside him was an exotic-looking blonde woman, using her "towering peaks" to help him wipe grass clippings off his club.
The old man turned his head and happened to lock eyes with Lin An.
There was no shock, no screaming.
The old man simply paused, raised his half-empty glass of whiskey toward Lin An, and cracked a smile that only men would understand.
Lin An smiled and nodded back in return.
This was the unspoken understanding between men.
On the outside.
This old man was a philanthropist who talked endlessly about social responsibility on television.
Lin An was a living Jesus draped in the Star-Spangled Banner, saving humanity.
But once they stepped through this door, everyone had only one identity—wilderness outlaws on the hunt.
No one would look down on anyone else's low morals, and no one would go outside and gossip.
"The rule here is that there are no rules," Tony whispered beside him.
"Everyone comes here to strip away their public personas and catch a breath. Even if you were to take a dump right here on the spot, someone would just kneel down and wipe your ass clean."
Lin An was amused.
This place was just too damn much to his liking.
"Take a bath first?"
"Let's go!"
Led by a waiter, the two walked through a winding, secluded bamboo forest and entered a top-tier private hot spring room named "Yaochi".
The interior decor was incredibly elegant, featuring a constant-temperature running hot spring entirely built with warm mutton-fat jade bricks.
Even the water used for the bath was glacier meltwater flown in directly from the Alps, heated to a body-comfortable thirty-nine degrees Celsius after being blended with trace minerals.
Lin An stripped off his custom-tailored suit and slid shirtless into the pool.
As the water rippled around him, a sense of comfort that seeped deep into his bones made him let out a long breath.
Before he could fully lean back against the jade steps, a slight splashing sound came from the water's surface.
Two women slipped into the water from behind a screen on the other side of the pool.
Instead of revealing bikinis, they were wrapped in sheer, snow-white veils that became translucent upon contact with water.
Their looks were absolutely flawless. One was a Slavic beauty with icy blue eyes and a cold temperament.
The other was a classical Eastern beauty with a beauty mark near her eye and a captivating gaze.
The Slavic beauty silently circled behind Lin An. Her soft, seemingly boneless yet precisely firm hands pressed against his temples, beginning a highly professional massage.
The Eastern beauty pressed half her body against Lin An's arm. Her slender fingers held a pure silver pick, skewering a freshly peeled, perfectly chilled Chilean cherry, and gently offered it to Lin An's lips.
Lin An opened his mouth and bit into the cherry, its sweet juice bursting in his mouth.
He closed his eyes, feeling the tingling sensation on his scalp, while his mind echoed with thoughts.
Evil capitalism!
Look at this decadent lifestyle!
Look at these extravagant ways!
Where are the morals?
Where is the bottom line?
And where is the most premium private room?!
Today, I, Lin, must represent the vast oppressed working class and severely criticize this corrupt phenomenon!
Criticize it deeply!
"Comfortable, isn't it?"
In another jade pool less than three meters away, Tony was holding a woman in each arm, raising his glass to clink with Lin An from afar.
"This is just the most basic welcome service. What's truly amazing about this place is its hardware facilities."
Tony's expression suddenly became extremely proud. "Some of the hardware upgrades for this club were provided by me."
Lin An almost swallowed the cherry pit.
He opened his eyes and looked at Tony with a bizarre expression. "You, the grand CEO of Stark Industries, are doing infrastructure work for a club?"
"Bullshit! That's called the trickle-down of high-end technology!"
Tony retorted displeasedly, pointing at the holographic starry sky above his head with a smug face.
"This projection equipment uses our company's latest generation of optical cloaking technology."
"And that zero-gravity experience chamber next door, do you know what it feels like to experience it? It's like floating in the clouds, with no support points at all, relying entirely on your own strength..."
Tony raised his eyebrows, his smile gradually turning lewd.
"WTF?? You can even play like that?"
Lin An was stunned.
In his past life, the most he knew about was in some bathtub...
Tony took a swig of his drink righteously. "Technology changes lives, after all!"
Lin An was speechless. What the hell do you mean "changes lives"!
"I also—they also set up an ocean zone underground with real fish. Of course, that's not important. The most important thing is, they have top-tier mermaids who can hold their breath for fifteen minutes, hehehe..."
Lin An was completely speechless.
When watching the movies in his past life, he only knew Tony as a tech fanatic.
Today he finally had his eyes opened. This guy had put his entire tech tree into the gutter.
How detestable!
It must be criticized!
If I don't experience every single activity here from start to finish, how can I write the most profound self-criticism?!
...
The two soaked in the pool for nearly half an hour, enjoying the massages of the top-tier masseuses.
Lin An felt the fatigue accumulated from being a black-hearted boss at Vought International over the past few days completely swept away.
*Splash.*
Tony stood up from the pool, casually grabbed a bath towel to wrap around his waist, and waved his hand to dismiss all the surrounding waitresses.
The private hot spring area, which had been filled with decadent music, fell silent instantly.
Tony shook his dripping hair, walked over to the edge of Lin An's pool, and looked at him with a lewd expression.
"Now that you've had a refreshing bath,"
"and I see you can't wait, want to go experience it?"
Lin An pulled a serious face.
"What kind of talk is that!"
"Without the light of righteousness like me looking after them, how are those girls from miserable families supposed to take care of their sick mothers? Their gambling fathers? Their brothers who can't afford a bride price?!"
"Bride price? What on earth is that?"
Tony was bewildered.
Chapter 74: Let's Talk About Your Tragic Backstories
"A profound culture. Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand."
Tony rolled his eyes and led him out of the bathhouse.
After walking for a few minutes, he pushed open the door to a private booth.
The two sat down on a spacious leather sofa.
A bottle of Romanée-Conti was already decanting on the coffee table.
Tony set down his wine glass and snapped his fingers crisply.
The door slid open silently.
Ten tall women filed in, lining up in a single row in the spacious open area. They bowed in unison, "Good evening, sirs."
Blonde hair and blue eyes, absolutely breathtaking.
Pulling any one of them out and throwing them onto a short-video platform from his past life would make them the ultimate sensation, keeping countless otaku awake at night and driving them to spam the rankings.
Lin An leaned back against the sofa, crossing his legs, his gaze scanning the room like radar.
Their hardware specs were indeed top-tier.
But he didn't even have the urge to shift his posture.
If this had been right after he crossed over, when he was still a miserable working stiff, Lin An probably wouldn't have known where to look.
But lately, he had first wrapped Black Widow around his finger, and then in Hawaii, he had thoroughly trained Starlight and Scarlet Witch in all sorts of ways.
This kind of Western wildness really couldn't get "little Lin An" excited.
"Next," Lin An said, not even lifting his eyelids as he waved his hand. "Bring in the next batch."
The air froze for a moment.
The ten blondes looked at each other in confusion.
The waiter nearby tactfully waved his hand.
The women retreated, looking aggrieved.
Tony raised his eyebrows at him. "Your standards are that high? The one leading just now was Victoria's Secret's opening model this year. Countless wealthy tycoons line up to throw money at her and can't even touch her hand."
"Tony, you don't understand." Lin An picked up a piece of chilled watermelon, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed, letting the juice overflow.
"There are only two times in a man's life when he is at his most picky and refuses to compromise."
"I'm all ears?"
"First, when looking for 'knowledge' on certain mysterious websites."
Lin An tapped the table solemnly, looking like an old Professor lecturing in a university classroom.
"Second, is right now."
"Western cuisine is fine for an occasional meal, but eating it every day gets boring. It's too straightforward and lacks soul. I still prefer Asian cuisine."
Tony rolled his eyes hard. "You're a superhuman with a pure white face, and you're talking to me about an Asian complex? Fine, you're the boss."
He waved over the waiter in black at the door and whispered a few words.
The waiter bowed.
Five minutes passed.
The faint clicking of high heels came from the hallway.
The door opened again.
A very faint, delicate fragrance drifted into the air.
It wasn't pungent, yet it tickled one's heart like a tiny hand.
This time, only six came in.
Lin An sat up straight.
That's it.
This is the vibe.
Tall, short, plump, or slim, each had her own charm. They were dressed quite conservatively, yet they managed to stretch that half-hidden allure to the absolute limit.
The waiter clasped his hands in front of him and introduced them in a lowered voice.
"Mr. Lin, these two are of Chinese descent."
The waiter gestured to the left.
"This one is a finance student at an Ivy League school, and this year's campus belle."
The girl wore an exquisitely tailored British-style uniform.
"The one next to her is a top supermodel who just finished the opening show at Fashion Week."
Her custom-tailored, modern blue-and-white porcelain cheongsam hugged her body, her eyes filled with pride and ambition.
Lin An rubbed his fingers together.
"Continue."
"These two are from Japan."
"A retired national idol."
The short-haired girl in a pink sailor uniform bowed ninety degrees, timidly calling out, "Hai!"
"And the eldest daughter of a Kansai financial conglomerate, who ended up here due to her family's bankruptcy."
This young lady wore an elegant black kimono, looking beautifully tragic, resigned to her fate yet unwilling.
A caged canary in distress.
The character trope popped right into Lin An's mind. They really knew how to play.
"The last two are from Korea," the waiter pointed to the far right. "A girl group duo who were scheduled to debut next month, but were blacklisted because they offended the higher-ups."
A pair of twins.
Wearing matching tight, hip-hugging mini dresses, one in black and one in white.
Their long legs were straight and well-proportioned, and their eyes carried the distinct pleasing and eager look of trainees.
The introduction concluded.
The booth was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
Six top-tier beauties stood in a row, a blend of innocence and charm.
The waiter took half a step back and bowed slightly.
"Sir, you can choose as you wish. Avalon guarantees you will have the ultimate experience."
Lin An didn't say a word.
He picked up the wine glass on the coffee table and downed it in one gulp.
The glass clinked against the crystal tabletop with a sharp sound.
He stood up, walked over to the row of women with an imposing stride, and sized them up one by one.
As he drew closer, the breathing of the six girls clearly lost its rhythm.
"Stark," Lin An called out without even turning his head.
"Uh-huh?" Tony was leaning back on the sofa, enjoying the show.
"I've had an incurable terminal illness since I was a kid."
Lin An adjusted the collar of his bathrobe, his tone incredibly smug.
"What terminal illness?"
"Difficulty making choices."
Tony choked.
Before he could figure out the logic behind those words.
Lin An turned around and spread his hands.
"I want them all."
Everyone looked up, and even the proud supermodel forgot to control her expression.
The black-clothed waiter's professional composure completely crumbled, his eyelid twitching wildly.
Tony bounced straight off the sofa, not even caring that wine had spilled onto his pants.
"Six?!" Tony raised his voice, looking like he'd seen a ghost in broad daylight. "Are you crazy, or do you have a death wish? Even if you eat seal kidney pills like candy, they'll still have to scrape you out of here on a stretcher tomorrow morning!"
Lin An sneered in his heart.
Scrape me out?
I'm now a god among men, loaded with the core genes of Silver Age Superman.
My stamina is so strong I could outlast time itself.
Let alone six, even if you stuffed sixty in here today, I wouldn't even blink.
"Don't measure me by your own hollowed-out, broken body." Lin An waved his hand in disgust, like shooing away a beggar. "Hurry up and get lost. Don't stop me from deeply criticizing the corrupt ways of capitalism."
Tony opened his mouth, but couldn't squeeze out a single word of rebuttal.
He silently gave a thumbs-up, admitting defeat.
"Impressive. The physical constitution of Vought International's CEO is truly one of the World's unsolved mysteries."
Tony adjusted his suit and slipped away faster than a rabbit. "Take your time criticizing. I'm going to discuss art with my Russian ballet troupe."
Tony left.
"Come on." Lin An patted the empty spot on the leather sofa beside him, flashing a wicked smile exclusive to capitalists.
"It's a long night. Let's have a good chat about your tragic backstories."
Next, whether it was anti-gravity chambers or deep-sea mermaids, Lin An thoroughly researched them all.
How technology changes lives.
Chapter 75: On Set, Uncle Logan's Audition
"Cut! Cut! Cut!"
The static screeching from the megaphone made everyone on set cover their ears.
Lin An slammed the megaphone onto the Director's table and pointed at the young man wearing red quartz glasses in the ruins, cursing loudly.
"Scott! Did you not eat breakfast this morning? I told you to show that epic feeling of'sacrificing oneself for all of humanity.' You just blushed and shot out such a thin thread. Are you trying to unclog a toilet in the sewer?!"
Cyclops, Scott, who was being scolded, crouched in the corner with a face full of grievance. This was already the seventeenth NG take.
The full-power red blast from earlier had sliced off half of an abandoned building. To capture that shot, the camera crew had three Arri cameras worth $600,000 each, along with their tripods, melted into molten iron on the spot.
And this still wasn't epic enough?
"Boss, I really can't squeeze out any more," Scott said, touching his scorching glasses frames, his eyes spinning a little. "If I shoot any more, my retinas are going to detach."
"Useless!" Lin An rolled his eyes and turned to yell at the set coordinator, "Go! Force-feed Bobby two bottles of high-proof vodka! His frozen river is as intermittent as an old man's prostatitis. What are his thirty million female fans supposed to watch? Watch him make shaved ice? Make it absolute zero, do you understand?!"
The entire abandoned film Base in Queens looked like a Syrian battlefield that had been pillaged by Terrorists three times.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of ozone and burnt asphalt.
This was Vought Studios' hardcore, real-life filming.
No green screens, no wirework, and even the demolition crew was laid off.
The entire cast and crew were walking human nuclear weapons.
"I say, pal, if you keep filming like this, by the time this prequel wraps up, the ground of New York will probably sink by two meters."
A gloating click of the tongue came from the side.
Tony Stark, wearing floral boxer shorts, was sprawled out on a beach chair.
Two hot female assistants stood beside him, one massaging his legs and the other holding iced tea.
The playboy had skipped three board meetings today just to come to the set to enjoy the show.
To be precise, it was to watch how this group of Mutants was being ruthlessly exploited by contractor Lin An.
"What the hell do you know about the film industry?" Lin An snatched the Long Island Iced Tea from Tony's hand, took a big gulp, and crunched the ice cubes in his mouth.
"Those old fogies in Hollywood rely too much on special effects. The Marvel—oh wait, Vought Cinematic Universe—is all about real hearing, real seeing, and real feeling. Wasn't the explosion of that abandoned building collapsing just now amazing?"
"It was great," Tony pulled down his sunglasses, looking at him like he was an idiot. "But I have to remind you, ten minutes ago, the Director of the New York Planning Bureau called me three times. You just had Pietro run fast enough to create a sonic boom cloud for airflow special effects, shattering all the windows in the neighboring three blocks."
Tony tapped a small blackboard nearby, which displayed the bill he had Jarvis draw up earlier: "Counting the camera battle damage, block reconstruction fines, plus emotional distress fees... you've been shooting for two hours this morning and have already burned through twelve million dollars of my Stark Industries sponsorship."
Lin An curled his lips, feeling absolutely no guilt.
No shit. It's your money being spent to shoot my movie, why would I feel bad?
"Don't be so stingy, Stark. When this movie is released, I'll give you a twenty percent cut of the box office. Just the merchandise and action figures alone will make you back dozens of twelve millions."
Lin An casually tossed the empty cup to an assistant and pulled out his walkie-talkie, preparing to continue torturing the next batch of cash cows.
Not far away, Pietro was leaning against a utility pole, dry-heaving. Normally, saving someone at supersonic speed was a matter of seconds for him. Today, this wicked Director had made him maintain Mach speed and run fifty whole laps around the block, under the pretext of "capturing the most perfect motion blur trajectory."
By the end of it, Pietro felt as if his internal organs had been put through a washing machine's spin cycle.
"Quicksilver, are you done throwing up? Wipe your mouth when you're done. The next scene is you taking on the Brotherhood's armored soldiers solo. Remember, no weapons allowed, smash them with your bare fists! If you don't make sparks fly, I'm docking your performance bonus for this month!"
Mystique, Raven, crouched on the hood of a scrapped car, feeling like she wanted to die.
The villainous tight leather suit she wore was scratched and tattered, and her face still bore the battle-damaged makeup Lin An had forced her to get by rolling in a mud pit.
She had no time to care about her thirty million male fans right now; she only felt that working under Lin An was shortening her lifespan even more than following Magnetoaround the World acting as Terrorists.
The wool of capitalism was truly not something Mutants could shear.
Lin An leaned in front of the monitor, looking at the group of superheroes who had been trained to be completely submissive by him, feeling delighted.
His popularity points had been rising in a parabolic curve over the past few days.
As long as behind-the-scenes footage of this high-intensity "exploitation" leaked online, netizens would only think that the employees of Vought International were incredibly dedicated.
"Boss."
A calm voice interrupted Lin An's calculations.
Madelyn walked over holding a tablet.
"What's wrong? Is it those old guys from Disney wanting to negotiate showtime share?" Lin An didn't even turn his head, keeping his eyes glued to Bobby, who was freezing on the monitor.
"It's not the distributor," Madelyn lowered her voice, her brow slightly furrowed, showing a rare trace of trouble. "There was a situation at the front desk just now. The security department sent thirty fully armed field agents over, but they couldn't stop him."
Lin An stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.
"Thirty fully armed field agents couldn't stop him?"
Vought International's current security standard was several levels higher than even The Pentagon, equipped with the latest non-lethal electromagnetic weapons from Stark Industries. An ordinary Mutant going in would just be delivering themselves on a silver platter.
"Someone's crashing the place?" Lin An was amused.
Did someone really have a death wish, walking right into Homelander's line of fire? He had been itching for a fight these past two days, and didn't even have a decent punching bag.
"Strictly speaking, it's not crashing," Madelyn tapped the tablet screen and handed it to Lin An. "He's here for an interview."
"An interview?"
Tony, who was lying nearby, also grew interested. He took off his sunglasses and leaned over.
On the screen was a surveillance video of the lobby.
The marble floor had been smashed, leaving several terrifying craters.
Three security guards wearing exoskeleton armor were hanging from the ceiling chandelier, while over a dozen others lay on the floor groaning.
Standing in the center of the screen was a man.
He wasn't very tall, at most 1.75 meters. But his build was as robust as a bear that had just burst out of a primeval forest.
The most eye-catching thing was his face.
It was covered in a thick beard as coarse as steel needles.
Even through the screen, one could smell a rugged scent mixed with alcohol and blood.
"This buddy doesn't look like he's here to fill out an application form," Tony stroked his neatly trimmed beard and commented. "He looks more like a fugitive who just killed someone on an underground bare-knuckle boxing ring and ran. Does your set even recruit vagrants like him?"
Lin An stared intently at the cigar-smoking savage on the screen.
"What were his exact words?" Lin An asked.
Madelyn swiped the screen to bring up the statement record uploaded by the security department, took a look, and spoke in a somewhat strange tone.
"He said he saw the recruitment advertisement for the 'X-Men' on TV."
"He said he doesn't know how to do anything except fight and drink. He heard we are recruiting Mutant actors, and not only is food provided, but he also doesn't have to pay for anything he breaks."
Madelyn looked up, her shrewd eyes filled with confusion. "And he explicitly demanded to play the lead. He said since the script has a bunch of kids in tight suits playing house, there should be a real man to teach them what it means to bleed."
Lin An almost burst out laughing.
This was no interview.
This was the heavens seeing that this bunch of wet-behind-the-ears Mutants couldn't hold the stage, and directly delivering the toughest bone in the Marvel Universe right to his doorstep.
Six Adamantium bone claws.
A super healing factor.
An old monster who had fought from World War I to World War II and lived for who knows how many years.
Wolverine, Logan.
"Send him up." Lin An stuffed his hands back into his suit pockets, his facial expression instantly lighting up with excitement—it was the greed of a top capitalist seeing an exquisite cash cow ripe for harvesting.
"Boss, this person is extremely dangerous. He has no background file, and his identity is a mystery," Madelynreminded him.
"I don't care about his background. On my set, even a dragon has to coil up for me."
Lin An turned around, looked at Cyclops and Quicksilverwho were still panting heavily in the ruins, and announced loudly.
"Notify the whole crew, we're changing the script."
He pointed at the cigar-chomping savage on the tablet.
"Write this scruffy vagrant into the first act. I just love those who don't value their lives."
In Lin An's mind, countless titles of viral trending topics were already ringing out.
Tony watched Lin An's malicious smile from the side and silently took two steps back.
This wicked bastard, who knows what evil scheme he's cooking up again.
Though, that bearded guy does look like he can take a real beating?
"Clear the set! Clear the set!" Lin An picked up the megaphone and roared, "A real tough guy is about to make his entrance! Everyone, snap out of it!"
From outside the heavy iron doors leading to the set, heavy and rough footsteps echoed.
Accompanied by the "click" of a metal lighter lighting a cigar.
The Beast has entered the cage.