The Last Job

Batman Begins earned 14 million at midnight screenings and 87 million on its opening day.

For an original film with no preexisting franchise foundation, this was undoubtedly an astonishing result, nearly breaking the record for original films.

Just as Betty had said, most of the credit went to Tony Stark.

Without using Tony's fame to promote the film, even if it performed well, it would never have reached these heights.

Professional film websites made predictions for its final box office.

Around 500 million domestically, at least 200 million overseas, with worldwide box office expected to surpass 700 million.

Based on a 100 million investment, the return rate from revenue-sharing box office proceeds exceeded 150%. Including IP operations and the studio's earnings from DVDs, streaming, and video-on-demand, the return rate would easily exceed 200%. It was outrageously profitable.

And this was merely Anton's first work as a director.

After Jameson learned of the situation, even a retired boss like him felt a little envious, let alone everyone else in the age of self-media.

Wealth was always a hot topic.

As the central figure of the discussion, Anton was immediately bestowed with the title of genius director.

At the same time, the more famous Anton became, the more famous the films he directed became as well, and vice versa. The two complemented each other.

One week after the film's release, Batman's fan count rapidly exceeded five million, while its box office stood at 270 million.

By then, box office growth had visibly slowed, and the curve was weakening.

Seeing this, quite a few film websites lowered their projected final box office to 460 million.

Even so, Anton had already recouped his costs, and everything else was pure profit.

According to their agreement, he did not even need to share dividends with Tony.

Excluding box office revenue, Anton's personal return on investment had already reached an astonishing 400%. For the first time, Jameson felt that his years of hard work were not worth as much as Anton making a few more films.

But Batman's steadily rising popularity was suddenly interrupted by shocking news.

Tony Stark, Stark Industries' largest shareholder and chairman, had been attacked while demonstrating a new missile in Afghanistan. His current whereabouts were unknown.

Unknown whereabouts meant no one even knew whether he was dead or alive.

Anton froze.

This was the plot of Iron Man 1.

He had not expected time to pass so quickly. In the blink of an eye, Tony was about to "grow up."

From one extreme to another.

The final sacrifice was regrettable.

Still, Anton was not worried about Tony's safety at all.

If Superman was DC's favored son, then by the same token, Iron Man was the Marvel Cinematic Universe's favored son.

There was no reason for someone blessed by destiny to stumble at a turning point in his life like this.

Once Tony returned, he would be Iron Man.

Anton stroked his chin as an idea suddenly came to him.

He called Betty.

"Boss, what are your orders?"

At the Daily Bugle, Betty sat at her workstation, staring at the tightly shut door of her boss's office. She gritted her teeth in irritation at Anton for skipping work.

Is this what being a boss is like?

You can just not come to work whenever you want!

I'm so jealous!

"Tony has gone missing. Do you know about this?"

Anton got straight to the point.

"Of course."

Betty was baffled. "This news has already shocked the entire country and sparked discussion around the world. That's Tony Stark, the biggest arms dealer around."

"Don't forget that Batman is a film invested in by Tony Stark."

Anton defined the matter for her. "The idea for Batman did not come solely from me. Tony's ideas were part of it too. It is Tony Stark's final work."

"Final work?"

Betty was stunned.

"Boss, you really are a genius."

She sucked in a breath. "I really want to cut open your heart and see whether it's black."

"There's no shame in making money."

Anton snorted. "Hurry up and hype it. If I don't see the box office go up tomorrow, I'll fire you."

"Your heart must be black. I don't even need to cut it open to know that."

Betty sighed.

Anton happily opened the system's fan count interface.

8.8 million.

This was already quite close to Anton's expectations.

By his estimate, Batman's armor would be his as soon as tomorrow, or the day after at the latest.

San Francisco.

Drake received information from the head of his bodyguards. Looking at the name on the computer screen that had been praised as that of a genius director, a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

"Genius director?"

Drake murmured, "Soon enough, however many people praise you to the skies, that's how many will feel sorry for you."

At the same time.

New York, Manhattan Financial District, Wall Street Court.

The Continental Hotel.

When Winston saw the photograph handed to him by his subordinate, a trace of surprise appeared on his face.

As the manager of the Continental Hotel, he had worked diligently for over thirty years, building an enormous network in New York's underworld. He knew New York's celebrities extremely well.

The person in the photograph was currently the focus of discussion across the entire United States.

However, considering the party that had issued the order, Winston was not surprised in the slightest. He even felt that their retaliation had come too late.

"A ten-million bounty."

He narrowed his eyes and remarked, "Even with trouble closing in, they're still so extravagantly rich."

"Winston, you wanted to see me?"

John Wick came before Winston.

At this point, he had already agreed upon a time and date for his retirement with the Continental Hotel.

"John, this is your final assignment before retirement."

Winston smiled.

John Wick looked at the young man in the photograph.

He took the file Winston handed him and carefully read through it for several minutes. Expressionless, he said, "Should I say thank you?"

"No need to be polite. I'll assume you did."

Winston waved a hand, his tone gentle. "After all, it's your final assignment. I hope it lets you experience the boredom of retirement early. If you want to come back then, you'll always be welcome."

"I won't be coming back."

John Wick answered calmly, turning away. "Goodbye, Winston."

"Goodbye."

Winston gazed into the distance, seated on the sofa like a king watching one of his knights march off to war.

In truth, that was exactly what it was.

To the man who controlled the Continental Hotel, John, the king of assassins, was his knight—and his most formidable one.

Unfortunately, his best tool was about to retire.

It was time to find new talent.

Winston fell into thought.

Meanwhile, after leaving the Continental Hotel, John Wick got into his car and, with his dog in the passenger seat, drove to an upscale villa district.

Every house here was worth tens of millions.

After working for the Continental Hotel for so many years and diligently killing so many people, John Wick could probably afford only one of them—and the cheapest one at that.

But John Wick felt no emotional stir.

A person like him had cast aside unnecessary emotions most of the time.

Especially jealousy and anger.

Thinking that this would be his last job, John Wick's eyes shifted slightly.

As a benchmark among assassins, Winston had not made him undertake some nearly impossible task for his final job. That already counted as genuine kindness.

The target was neither a gang member, nor a retired agent, much less a discharged soldier.

A mere genius director, completely unprepared and too weak to harm a chicken—wasn't he easy prey for a man known as the king of assassins?