<...Tony Stark, dreamer, genius, patriot. Since his youth as the son of legendary weapons developer Howard Stark, his extraordinary intellect quickly captured public attention. At age four, he built a circuit board; at six, he constructed his first engine; by seventeen, he graduated from MIT with highest honors...>
Dr. Connors stared blankly at the documentary playing on screen, providing evidence that Tony Stark was indeed a genius. Weren't they supposed to attend this awards banquet together? Where had Sean and Harry disappeared to?
The middle-aged scientist sat restlessly in the audience, his mind filled with three age-old philosophical questions, as enthusiastic applause erupted in the venue. Colonel Rhodes, the military representative, took the stage to speak:
"As Stark Industries' military liaison, I've had the privilege of working with such a true patriot, my mentor and friend. Ladies and gentlemen, it's my honor to present this year's highest award to Mr. Tony Stark!"
As his words concluded, upbeat music began playing at just the right moment, followed by another round of thunderous applause. Guests below the stage looked around eagerly, searching for this scientific genius.
Colonel Rhodes held the trophy and called out several times, but Tony Stark failed to appear. It wasn't until he noticed Obadiah shaking his head from his seat that he seemed to understand something, his face revealing a helpless expression.
Obadiah Stane, CEO of Stark Industries, quickly stood up and rushed to the stage to salvage the situation. Cleaning up after Tony's willful behavior was practically routine for him.
People often only saw the brilliant halo surrounding Stark the genius, rarely noticing whose hard work had maintained Stark Industries' glorious position through two generations.
Dr. Connors sipped his champagne, thinking how unreliable young people were these days... disappearing at the drop of a hat, even the banquet's guest of honor Tony Stark was no exception...
...
After parting ways with Harry, Sean arrived at the casino on the sixteenth floor.
Rubbing his itchy nose, he muttered to himself: "It feels like I forgot something important... Oh right, where's Dr. Connors? A man his age still running around everywhere, really..."
Holding a complimentary drink in hand, Sean aimlessly wandered through the casino, soaking in the lively atmosphere. The cacophony of sounds rose and fell like ocean waves, continuous and unending.
Every year, countless people flocked to Las Vegas from around the world just to experience the enchanting charm of this global gambling capital.
Some lost everything they owned here and left with nothing, while others seized opportunities and became overnight millionaires. As people said, this was a miracle city where angels and demons coexisted.
Sean idly played with several colorful chips in his hand. Occasionally when interest struck him, he would stop to play a few hands. Just as Harry had said, Las Vegas was a wonderful paradise that could make people forget all their troubles... provided your pockets contained enough chips or cash of course, only then could you qualify to be this city's god.
After winning several consecutive rounds of blackjack, the chips before Sean had piled up like a small mountain. He couldn't help but secretly wonder if he kept winning, would the casino staff take him to some back room...
"These are all yours." Smiling at the voluptuous female dealer, Sean picked out a few chips before preparing to leave.
"Man, you're really generous." A mustachioed man wearing a burgundy shirt spoke up.
He had just lost several consecutive hands and was currently seeking comfort from two tall, beautiful women.
"A little gambling tip, when you're on a lucky streak, learn to share." Sean turned and leaned against the gaming table, "I feel like tonight, I might have caught hold of Lady Luck's skirt."
The mustachioed man raised an eyebrow, seemingly unwilling to admit defeat. Taking off his sunglasses, he said:
"How about we try roulette and see who Lady Luck truly favors tonight..."
"...When it comes to attracting women, I've never lost to anyone!" He added with full confidence...
...
Half an hour later, the mustachioed man wore an expression of utter disbelief, to the point where the two beautiful women beside him couldn't attract even a shred of his attention:
"You've won thirteen straight times? According to mathematical probability, that's nearly impossible!"
"No, counting that last round, it's fourteen." Sean calmly corrected, "It seems Lady Luck prefers my type tonight."
The mustachioed man's face flushed with embarrassment. His earlier confident declaration had ended up slapping himself in the face, which made him feel somewhat humiliated.
As for how much money he'd lost, he couldn't care less... if he wanted, he could probably buy this entire hotel.
"Alright, I have to admit, tonight all of Las Vegas's good luck seems to have gathered around you."
The mustachioed man buried his face in his female companion's ample bosom, took several deep breaths, then rallied himself.
Turning to his bodyguard behind him, he said, "Happy, get me some higher denomination chips."
"You still want to continue? I already have more chips than I know what to do with." Sean shrugged.
The mountain of chips piled before him drew jealous or resentful glances from surrounding gamblers, giving rise to an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
"You could give them all to the dealer like you just did." The mustachioed man chuckled.
Seeing the burly male dealer looking at him with hopeful eyes, Sean couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine and flatly rejected the suggestion: "Too bad not every dealer has a pair of legs that makes it hard to look away."
The mustachioed man gave Sean a knowing look between men of similar tastes, and were just about to start exchanging insights about female figures when a black man in a crisp military uniform pushed through the crowd, his face wearing an expression of mock interrogation.
"Who was it that told me he'd be deeply honored if I presented his award?" The colonel demanded.
"Of course! Having the capable young Colonel Rhodes present my award would be an honor– hmm, has the awards ceremony started? I can't wait to go on stage and accept it!"
The mustachioed man's acting skills at this moment were worthy of an Oscar, but unfortunately his good friend Colonel Rhodes wasn't buying it, he directly thrust the trophy in front of him: "Here, I brought it to you already."
"Wow, that's really efficient. You're too thoughtful."
The mustachioed man tried hard to appear moved, but the arm gradually snaking around his female companion's slender waist betrayed his true thoughts.
"How about one last round?" The mustachioed man asked unwillingly.
At the very least he had to win once. He refused to believe Lady Luck truly favored this young guy so much.
Sean smiled faintly, "You've lost enough tonight, Mr. Stark."
He had long recognized this somewhat dissolute mustachioed man as the famous Tony Stark.
"He's right Tony. You have an important trip tomorrow, you can't be late." Colonel Rhodes knew his friend's habits well.
If this continued, there was no way Tony would appear on time for tomorrow's flight.
Flicking a chip from his fingers, Sean said with meaningful undertones: "Have a safe journey Mr. Stark..."
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Read ahead on my P@treon...
[email protected]/MayaMatengele01