Anton watched as Obadiah, holding a glass of wine and wearing a broad smile, mingled with the others. He couldn't help but be surprised.
Obadiah and Dr. Otto Octavius's "Artificial Sun" project—was it already about to begin?That meant the citizens of New York, who had just gone through the Green Goblin incident and the Bigfoot Gang's downfall, were about to face yet another crisis?
Too miserable. Too unlucky.New York was truly the most dangerous city in the universe—bar none.
Disasters struck every few weeks.If someone started a contracting company specializing in post-disaster reconstruction, they'd be a billionaire within five years.
Anton rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Anton, you've really impressed me lately."
Tony stared at the old acquaintance before him. Thinking of how they had been at each other's throats just half a year ago—and then seeing how much Anton had changed—he had to admit that everyone grows.
Even he himself had managed to change, so why couldn't Anton Jameson?
Still, Tony couldn't quite figure this guy out.From a rich, spoiled playboy to a genius director—Anton's transformation was something Tony's scientific mind couldn't fully process.
And then there was Batman.
Recently, Batman had taken America by storm. His fame had even spread overseas—and Tony was paying close attention.
Everyone knew Anton controlled the Daily Bugle,and that the Daily Bugle had a very close relationship with Batman.
Not only that—Anton was the director of Batman: The Dark Knight Rises!In other words, Batman was practically Anton's creation.
The internet buzzed with rumors that Tony himself had contributed to the film's creative direction—but Tony knew the truth: The Dark Knight Rises had been entirely Anton's doing.
And according to Jarvis's background analysis,there was a 70% chance that Anton himself was Batman.
The remaining 30% of uncertainty came from two points:First, Batman's personality, abilities, and life experience seemed completely different from Anton's.Second, on the night of Batman's global box office celebration (which had just crossed $600 million), both Anton and Batman appeared in two different places at the same time.
But Tony didn't see that as proof against the theory.
After all, if he wanted to, he could easily let Jarvis pilot one of his Iron Man suits to patrol New York while he stayed at a party, drinking champagne.
Which left him with only one reasonable conclusion—
Anton was Batman.
But that idea was so absurd that Tony felt it violated every scientific principle he knew.
He had known Anton for years and had never once seen a shred of superhero potential in him.
Tony had become Iron Man because of a near-death experience, his unmatched intellect, and a powerful will to survive.
What did Anton have?How could he possibly be Batman?
Unable to convince himself either way, Tony decided to hold this party—to get close and test the man himself.
But the moment he laid eyes on Anton tonight, Tony's doubts only deepened.
Just look at the woman beside him!
Tony didn't even need Jarvis's analysis—no "Batman" in the world would walk into a party with a woman that stunning clinging to his arm.
The woman was breathtaking, radiating a sensual charm that made the air seem warmer.Anton standing next to her looked completely in character—still the same incorrigible playboy.
"This is all thanks to your support, Tony," Anton greeted him with an easy smile. "It's your first big party since your safe return. We can't just stand around all night, can we?"
He paused, then pointed across the hall."See? They're betting on us again."
Tony smirked. "So… shall we continue our little wager?"
"If you want to!" Anton shrugged casually.
"I've invited the ten most famous Playboy cover models from the past year…" Tony said, glancing at the woman beside Anton—Natasha—with a sly grin. "If you can find them all and bring them here in front of me, I'll admit defeat this time."
"You're not planning to compete?" Anton asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
"I've already found the one who suits me."
Tony said it smoothly, his eyes unconsciously drifting toward Pepper Potts, who was greeting guests nearby. A gentle warmth flickered in his gaze.
"Looks like you're about to step into the grave of marriage," Anton teased, letting his arm slip from Natasha's slender waist. "But I wish you the best. Congratulations on finding true love."
Then he turned, heading straight toward the nearest Playboy model.
Tony's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Natasha. "He doesn't seem to care much about you, beautiful lady."
"My name is Natasha," she replied calmly. Her voice was steady, with no trace of embarrassment. "And he's just my boss."
"Is that so?" Tony arched an eyebrow, not arguing.
By then, Anton had already charmed the first model—and was now talking animatedly with the second.Two gorgeous women giggled beside him.
Then came the fourth.Then the fifth, the sixth…
Half an hour later, Anton returned with ten stunning women in tow.
"Tony, I'll take your surrender now!" Anton declared triumphantly.
Tony exhaled softly. "You win, though it feels a little unfair."
Surrounded by ten top-tier beauties, Anton grinned ear to ear, one arm around each of two women.
Natasha maintained her professional smile, but as her eyes swept over Anton and his entourage, she couldn't help but doubt the intelligence reports from S.H.I.E.L.D.
Anton and Batman—how could they possibly be the same person? Their behavior patterns were worlds apart!
She didn't realize that the man beside her, Tony Stark, had already completely ruled out that possibility.
Watching Anton bask in his "victory," Tony's face twitched ever so slightly.
How could I ever have thought this guy was Batman?
It must be the lingering effects of that concussion!
"Jarvis," Tony muttered quietly, "send a message to my personal physician. Tell him to come first thing tomorrow morning—with full diagnostic equipment. I need a brain scan."
He cursed under his breath. "Damn it, my brain's my most valuable asset. Can't afford to have it malfunctioning."
"Tony, why are you calling your doctor?"
Pepper's voice caught him off guard. She'd overheard just enough to look alarmed.
"It's nothing," Tony said quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. "Just a routine check-up."
——
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room—
Anton turned to Natasha. "Maybe we should head back to the hotel."
"Are you sure?" Natasha's eyes flicked to the ten models beside him. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your evening."
"You're not interrupting," Anton laughed. "With you, that makes twelve of us—perfect for three tables of mahjong!"
He chuckled heartily as the group, under countless envious stares, made their way out—eleven gorgeous women and one very smug man.
They spent the entire night in a Los Angeles hotel—playing mahjong.
By dawn, Anton had even won several thousand dollars.
And yes—don't ask why a hotel in L.A. had three fully automatic mahjong tables.The answer's simple: money can buy anything.
-----------------------
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