Winston Comes Calling

"Did you finish what I asked you to do?"

After the car had been moving smoothly for over ten minutes, Anton suddenly broke the silence inside and asked.

"Following your instructions, DC Comics has officially been established. We'll have the approval documents tomorrow." Betty nodded.

On the night Anton booked his flight to San Francisco, he had asked Betty whether she was willing to change jobs.

She had been hesitant at first, but quickly thought it through. Before Anton left, she took the initiative to find him and agreed to become his personal assistant.

Now, as a genius director adored by Hollywood, coupled with his eye-catching family background, Anton had become one of the most famous "rich kids" in America, second only to Tony Stark before his accident.

Not to mention that the two were drinking buddies.

Tony Stark had been missing for nearly a week since the incident. The news had been making a huge stir, yet public attention on Tony Stark was fading by the day.

After all, many people already considered him dead.

He had been attacked by terrorists and gone missing in a war-torn place like Afghanistan.

His unknown fate was merely some people's fantasy of a happy ending.

Most people knew that Tony Stark had probably bought the farm.

Thinking of Tony's drinking buddy—Anton Jameson—who was now not only a genius director and the man behind the Daily Bugle, but possibly also the newly emerged, widely worshipped superhero Batman...

The more regret people felt over Tony Stark's fate, the hotter their interest in Anton Jameson became.

From a darker perspective, Anton had risen by stepping on Tony.

Yet no one knew that Anton's confidence that Tony was all right had never wavered from beginning to end.

If Tony Stark died, this world would lose at least half its color.

Back to the point.

On the way back to the Daily Bugle from the airport, Betty continued her report. "The head of the screenwriting department is Browning Toby. He enjoyed working with you before and readily accepted our invitation. As for Jim, he said he needs time to think about it."

"Movies are only one part of our strategy."

Anton nodded in satisfaction. Looking every bit the capitalist, he instructed, "We need to arrange the comics, animation, merchandise, and so on as soon as possible."

"Understood," Betty replied.

"When will Browning get to New York? I have a lot to discuss with him." Anton asked, "Oh, and those assistant directors I told you about—did you recruit them?"

"Three accepted our invitation. The others turned us down," Betty said.

"Three?"

Anton rubbed his chin and did not criticize her too harshly. "Forget it. You've already done very well in such a short time."

As they spoke, the car stopped by the roadside outside the building where the Daily Bugle was located.

Anton and the others got out.

After returning to the Daily Bugle, Phil set down the luggage and first went to the finance department. With the pay slip Anton had approved, he collected a substantial bonus.

Then, Phil excitedly carried his luggage home.

Anton had given him time off as well, telling him to return after Eddie reported for duty.

Sitting in his chair at the Daily Bugle, Anton made himself a cup of coffee, took a small sip, and let out a long breath.

Life was finally becoming peaceful.

Knock, knock, knock!

But just as quitting time approached, Betty knocked on the door. Her expression was slightly strange as she said, "Someone knows you're back. He wants to see you."

Anton asked, "Who?"

Betty said, "Winston from the Continental Hotel."

"Let him in."

Anton nodded. Then Winston pushed open the door and entered, his expression mild, with not the slightest trace of the helpless rage he had shown that night.

"Anton, should I say this is our first meeting?"

Winston smiled at the young man before him, his guard raised to the utmost.

This kid was no simple character.

That night, Anton's threat to him as Batman had been like a demon crawling out of hell, something he would never forget for the rest of his life.

"What is it?"

Anton could not be bothered pretending in front of Winston. They both knew exactly who the other was. He smiled with interest. "I thought you wouldn't want to see me again for the rest of your life."

"An Adjudicator wants to see you."

Winston said frankly, "Regarding the Continental Hotel, you have to give an explanation, don't you?"

"An Adjudicator?"

Anton wore a faintly mocking smile. "Let her in."

Winston said, "Uh, actually, she hopes you can go see her at the Continental Hotel."

"I do not belong to the High Table, nor have I offended the High Table."

Anton's face instantly darkened. He stared coldly at Winston, giving off a dangerous aura as he spoke slowly. "On the contrary, it was the High Table that offended me! Go back and tell the Adjudicator that if she wants to see me, she can come to the Daily Bugle. And if the High Table wants to deal with me, they're welcome to try anytime."

"I will relay your words to her exactly as they are."

Winston was not angry either. It seemed he did not think much of that Adjudicator himself.

After finishing slowly, he turned and left.

Then, until quitting time, Anton never saw the High Table's Adjudicator.

He could not be bothered with so much nonsense.

In any case, he had never taken the High Table seriously.

Simply put, the High Table was a global assassin empire that placed rules above all else. Every assassin affiliated with the High Table had to act according to its rules.

Even so, the High Table had not unified the assassin world in this world.

All kinds of assassin organizations still stood alongside it.

Like rival sects, competing with one another.

According to Anton's understanding, the High Table had twelve seats, with the Camorra, the Mafia, the Illuminati, Chinese, and Russians serving as seat elders.

Its rulers were spread across the globe, making them quite troublesome to deal with.

The Continental Hotel was merely a New York outpost under the High Table, far from being its true headquarters.

That was why, after dealing with the Continental Hotel, Anton had not fixated on the High Table behind it, much less uprooted it entirely.

If the High Table had any sense, it naturally would not lightly provoke a powerful enemy like him again.

After all, he was not the one who had made the first mistake.

Meanwhile.

Inside the Continental Hotel, which was undergoing "post-disaster reconstruction."

A short-haired woman with an imposing bearing looked expressionlessly at Winston, whose smile carried ill intent. "That's what he said?"

"That's right."

Winston nodded. "He told you to go see him, rather than going to see you. That's important. After all, in his eyes, we were the ones who made the first mistake."

"We?"

The Adjudicator gave Winston a deep look.

As the manager of the Continental Hotel, it was only natural for Winston to refer to himself and the High Table as "we."

But in this context, those words meant that Winston was unwilling to be the one to take the lead.

In other words, Winston's wariness of Anton had already reached an extreme level.

Was that Batman, who had appeared out of nowhere, truly so terrifying?

"When do you plan to see him?"

Seeing the Adjudicator sink into thought, Winston suddenly asked.

"I will see him."

The Adjudicator glanced at Winston and replied flatly, "But not now."