The hallway was very long, with a thick carpet covering the floor.
John and Mark walked down it one behind the other, taking care not to make any unnecessary noise.
Both men looked exceedingly grim.
They had thought it would be a one-sided slaughter, but before they had even seen their target's face, they had lost a powerful combatant.
It was a disgrace to them.
As they drew closer to the suite door at the end of the hallway, strange sounds began to reach their ears.
Although the hotel had excellent soundproofing, the two men had been genetically modified, and their hearing was far beyond that of ordinary people.
He could clearly hear the sounds of revelry coming from the room.
There was the flirtatious laughter of several young women, along with Tony Stark's frivolous chatter.
Their voices drifted through the crack under the door, sounding relaxed and content.
"That's right, sweethearts, just like that. Don't be so nervous. Come on, take it slow. I'll teach you how to play with something this big, black, and hard."
Tony seemed to be giving instructions, his tone full of innuendo.
"Listen, you can't just start by using force. First, stroke it carefully with your hand, and feel its temperature and unique texture. Then slowly tighten your grip on the important part. Remember to put your fingers in the right places."
Right after that, the sound of several models laughing merrily came from the room.
"Oh, Mr. Stark, this thing is so big I can barely hold it," a woman said coquettishly.
"Hold it steady, sweetheart. If you squeeze too hard, it'll spray stuff everywhere," Tony replied with a laugh.
Then Tony turned his attention to someone else.
"Hey, Yinsen! What are you doing standing in the corner? Don't just stand there, come join us. Everyone's going to have fun tonight!"
Hearing this, the two men outside the door instantly felt as though they had eaten shit.
Damn Stark!
There had been such a huge explosion in the hallway that the whole building had shaken.
Any normal person who heard that commotion would have been hiding under a table in terror by now.
But what about these two bastards?
They were still in the mood to pick up women in their room! And they were even having an orgy in there!
Mark recalled the torture he had endured in the laboratory.
To gain superpowers, they had been forcibly injected with an unknown drug and subjected to agonizing pain every day.
Meanwhile, these capitalists were enjoying the company of beautiful women in a luxury suite.
The stark contrast made Mark curse inwardly.
Damn it! Damn rich people!
John stood in front of the door, his expression calm.
But his gaze had turned utterly cold.
In his heart, he had already passed sentence on Tony and Luca.
No matter what tricks the two playboys were up to inside, they had to die here tonight.
John turned and exchanged a glance with Mark beside him.
Mark immediately nodded to show he was ready.
John reached out and rested his right hand lightly on the doorknob.
The next second, he used his superpower.
His palm began to accelerate, vibrating at a high frequency.
This was one of his abilities.
By increasing his speed, he could produce vibrations at a special frequency.
The frequency of those vibrations would destroy the lock cylinder inside the doorknob.
The process took only a moment and made no sound whatsoever.
"Click."
A faint, crisp sound rang out.
The door opened.
The moment the lock broke, John and Mark instantly entered combat mode.
John raised his foot and kicked the door hard.
"Bang!"
The door flew open and slammed heavily against the walls on either side.
Before John could move, his teammate had already charged inside, shouting to vent his anger.
"Damn you, Stark! Your end has come!"
Mark shouted, his hands already poised to gather water and drown everyone in the room.
But all too often, a good plan met a cruel reality.
When the two rushed into the room and saw what was inside, they froze.
Their expressions stiffened, and their movements stopped in midair.
The scene before them was nothing like what they had imagined.
In the middle of the living room.
Six beautiful models with smoking-hot figures stood in a row.
Beside them stood a middle-aged man wearing glasses.
That man was Yinsen.
Most alarmingly, all seven of them were holding pitch-black tactical assault rifles!
Only now did they understand.
The big, black, hard things they had been talking about behind the door really were guns!
Seven gun barrels were aimed in perfect unison at the freshly kicked-open doorway-or rather, at John and Mark's heads.
Tony Stark sat on a sofa in the back, watching the show.
The instant John and Mark rushed in, Tony raised his wineglass slightly and shouted.
"Now. Open fire, sweethearts. Show them Stark Industries' firepower."
As soon as he finished speaking.
All seven pulled their triggers at once.
"Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!"
Deafening gunfire erupted in the living room.
Seven muzzles spat dazzling tongues of flame at once, pouring a dense barrage of bullets toward the doorway.
Mark, who was charging in front, had no time to react.
He was far too close to the muzzles, less than five meters away.
Although his superpower took only a fraction of a second to activate.
The bullets were far faster than he could react.
Dozens of bullets ruthlessly tore through his combat suit and slammed into his body.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
Before Mark could even scream, the powerful impacts drove him back again and again, riddling him with bullets.
He then fell heavily to the floor and died on the spot.
His eyes were wide open, unwilling to die.
He could never have imagined that, when death came for him, he would be gunned down by a few models.
One man's misfortune was another man's luck.
John's reactions were much faster.
The instant he saw that something was wrong in the room, he activated his super speed.
Almost instantly, he turned into a blurred afterimage.
Bullets grazed his scalp and clothes, smashing into the wall behind him.
John's speed had completely surpassed human limits.
His figure flickered and leaped around the living room.
One moment he appeared on the chandelier, the next behind the sofa, constantly dodging the dense rain of bullets.
For a time, the room was filled with the sound of gunfire.
A glass liquor cabinet was shattered, and valuable oil paintings were torn apart.
Pillows were ripped open by bullets, sending white feathers flying through the air.
Poor Mark had long since been riddled with bullets and lay in a pool of blood, but it wasn't over yet.
The models, who had already had quite a bit to drink, felt the recoil and destructive power of the guns...
And so... they seemed to be having the time of their lives.
They screamed with excitement, holding the triggers down as they sprayed bullets all over the living room.
They kept firing until every bullet in their magazines was spent.
Tony drank in the back, calling out his comments from time to time.
"Sweetheart! Control the recoil! Do you know how to control the recoil? The muzzle's climbing toward the ceiling! Are you shooting at rats in the ventilation ducts?"
Tony shouted his instructions.
"Yinsen! Why are you shooting with your eyes closed? You missed!"
"That last shot almost broke my favorite wineglass! Aim at that freak!"