A genius, playboy, trillionaire, and philanthropist had the pomp befitting a genius, playboy, trillionaire, and philanthropist-not something one guy using a nuclear bomb as a couch and two others whispering behind the rubble could match.
Two hours after Bruce Wayne entered Safar, the Government Forces held a welcome banquet for him.
The long table was covered with a white cloth.
Silver cutlery, crystal wineglasses, and lamb chops roasted to perfection.
Two armored vehicles were parked outside the windows, and machine guns were mounted on the roof. The occasional boom of artillery came from several kilometers away, while the band in the banquet hall played on as usual.
Bruce stood amid the crowd with a wineglass in hand.
To his left was an official in charge of foreign affairs.
To his right was a general who controlled several checkpoints in the south.
Farther back were several finance personnel who had already begun studying which accounts Wayne's aid money should pass through.
These people liked Bruce Wayne.
They especially liked the aid document Bruce Wayne had signed.
He had even provided the money in a mixture of US dollars and gold.
"Mr. Wayne."
The general raised his glass.
"Safar welcomes true friends!"
"I hope my friends won't make me regret the figure I signed off on today."
Bruce clinked glasses with him, smiling in a way that perfectly suited his playboy image.
The people around them laughed along.
Only the wristwatch hidden beneath his cuff was still working.
A miniature camera swept the banquet hall.
Four exits.
Twelve armed guards.
The official handling his reception had changed positions twice, with someone always blocking the way to the back door.
Before the banquet began, Bruce's driver had been taken to another building to rest. Two employees from the regional branch had also been