NABC Chapter 51 The World's Protagonist, Tony Stark
Chapter 51 The World's Protagonist, Tony Stark
In the police station lobby, everyone was packing up their equipment.
The sounds of the Velcro straps on bulletproof vests being torn open and then reattached could be heard repeatedly.
The M16A2's magazine was removed from the chamber for inspection and then pushed back in.
The nylon buckle of the tactical belt made a soft, rustling sound under the fluorescent light.
Brock stood behind the iron railings of the second-floor observation deck.
He glanced down at the police officers who were all ready to go.
"Today, Tony Stark of the Stark Industries will also be here. Everyone must be on high alert and make sure nothing happens to him."
Li Enzheng was stuffing a spare magazine into his tactical belt when he heard this name, and his fingers paused for a moment.
Tony Stark, the future Iron Man.
Right now, this guy is just a rich second-generation heir who sells arms and a playboy.
He appears on the cover of Time magazine and tabloids every few weeks.
The photo was accompanied by a blonde woman and a sensational headline.
The kind of person who isn't very likable.
Bright's already dark face became even darker.
He slung the bulletproof helmet over his head, but before the chin strap was even tightened, the sound was already squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Why do we have to protect that guy specifically? We should be keeping an eye on the civilians here."
His words elicited a low murmur of agreement in the hall.
Several police officers who were organizing their equipment simultaneously looked up and gazed towards the observation deck on the second floor.
That tycoon who frequently appears on magazine covers is indeed someone to be envied, jealous of, and resented.
I hate that he's rich, but I hate even more that he lives so recklessly while being rich.
Brock stated bluntly, "I don't like him either, but Stark Industries donates a huge amount of money to the NYPD every year, a very, very large amount."
The murmurs of agreement in the hall ceased, and all the officers fell silent.
The new body armor they were wearing, the M16A2s they were holding, and the neatly stacked magazines in the ammunition depot.
A large portion of the funding gap was filled by donations from these large corporations.
"Moreover, he came to offer condolences and donations to the victims' families. In any case, the victims still need to live and need money."
Upon hearing this, Bright tightened the chin strap and snapped it into the buckle.
The sound of equipment rubbing against each other echoed in the hall again.
"Alright, everyone get ready to go. Two people will be left at the police station to guard the area today."
Brock clapped his hands and came down from the second floor.
Bright walked through the crowd and stood in front of Li En.
His lips moved, he bit his lower lip and then released it, his face showing a clear struggle. After a few seconds, he lowered his voice and spoke.
"Lee En, could you talk to Chief Block and ask Cotter and his crew to set up a stall on the street next to Central Park, selling hamburgers and hot dogs?"
"If their documents are complete, it's not our place as police officers to deal with them."
Lee En was naturally supportive of Cortel's ability to find a partner to do legitimate business.
However, the licensing of food trucks falls under the jurisdiction of the health department, and the police have no say in this matter.
Bright nodded quickly, speaking a few steps faster.
"Don't worry. He's been taking the relevant exams these past few days, but as you know..."
"The locations for these street vendors are all controlled by gangsters."
He licked his lips and continued, "There are two streets over there that are empty now, and nobody dares to go there, so..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning behind it was already very clear.
The downfall of the two major gangs freed up considerable territory, from port berths to smuggling routes to street food stalls.
Behind every inch of open space lies a map waiting to be redrawn.
Right now, all the gangs are still watching and waiting; no one dares to be the first to make a move.
But for ordinary people to take advantage of this gap to occupy land and set up stalls is tantamount to planting a flag under the nose of gangsters.
It will definitely be taken over by gangs that want to seize the territory afterwards.
A stall with police endorsement is a different story.
In the minds of all the gangs in New York, the New York Police Department is the biggest gang in the city, bar none.
Li En hadn't expected that a simple food truck stall would need the police station's endorsement.
"Okay, let Cortel take some men over there to drive it. Frank and I will go over for breakfast later."
"Thank you!" Bright was overjoyed and thanked him several times.
He knew better than anyone what a decent job could offer a kid growing up in Hell's Kitchen.
As long as the kids in Cotter can get to the point of doing something decent, they won't want to touch those dark things anymore.
Lee En found Brock and told him.
Brock nodded indifferently; these were all minor matters.
At the police station entrance, one police car after another, with their red and blue lights flashing, drove toward Central Park.
Frank drove up in a black SUV.
This vehicle was seized from the Armick Group's garage.
The car still bears traces of glue left after the timber company's logo stickers were torn off, and now it has police license plates.
He rolled down the car window and reached out to tap on the passenger door.
"Get in the car, what are you standing there for?"
Li En stood outside the car door, without reaching for the door handle.
We are currently on a mission. If you get into this vehicle, the vehicle killer will be triggered.
"You go first, I only ride in a Porsche."
"Watfar?" Frank stared at him, his hands still on the steering wheel.
"If you have any opinions, just say them. I drive very steadily." He thought Li En was questioning his driving skills.
"No, I can only ride in a Porsche now." Li En shook his head and took half a step back.
"The distance isn't far, I'll run there and meet up with Cortel at his food truck."
Frank stared at him for a second, then turned his head back, shifted gears, and stepped on the gas.
The black SUV merged into the police convoy, its taillights disappearing after it rounded the street corner.
Lee En liked this about Frank the most.
Decisive and straightforward, never questioning.
He started walking and jogged towards Central Park.
Along the way, on the sidewalks on both sides of the street, many residents who were not at work were already walking in the same direction.
An elderly man leaned on a cane, a mother pushed a stroller, and several dockworkers in faded work clothes took off their hats and held them in their hands.
Everyone remained silent; no one spoke.
At the entrance of the children's playground, bouquets of flowers used for memorial services were piled up into a small mountain.
Daisies, lilies, and carnations, their stems still adorned with water droplets sprayed by the florist, glistening in the sunlight.
Some bouquets had handwritten cards attached, the handwriting blurred by dew, leaving only a few illegible words.
I'm sorry, rest in peace, I will never forget.
The mayor of New York City stood on a makeshift stage, holding a microphone in both hands.
He was speaking in a rehearsed, compassionate tone about the pain this tragedy had inflicted on New York.
New York City Commissioner Gallo stood a few steps behind him, ramrod straight, his face expressionless.
The surrounding residents listened in silence.
It's different from the port case, the warehouse street case, the Amick Group case, and the Kina bar case.
The Central Park case is the real knife that pierces the bones of New Yorkers.
The victims in those cases were illegal immigrants, gangsters, and drug dealers.
But the victims here are real New Yorkers.
The protests that erupted earlier were ultimately just a result of sympathy.
The silence here stems from fear of one's own safety.
They are completely different things.
Li En walked through the edge of the crowd and saw Cortel's food truck parked on the sidewalk of 65th Street in the distance.
A silver stainless steel food cart with handwritten menus pasted on its body.
Three hamburgers, two hot dogs, and one coffee.
Frank was already standing next to the food cart, holding a half-eaten hamburger in his right hand and a steaming cup of coffee in his left.
"Wow, this kid's got pretty good skills."
Lee walked over and took another hamburger from Frank.
The bread was slightly charred, the beef patty was still dripping oil, and the lettuce leaves were crisp; you could hear a clear cracking sound when you bit into them.
He took a couple of bites and glanced into the food cart.
Kotter was standing in front of the griddle flipping meat patties, his forehead covered in sweat and his apron stained with oil.
There were three boys of similar age behind him.
One person was chopping onions, another was spreading butter on bread, and a third was making change at the cashier.
"It's not bad, and the price isn't expensive either." Frank had already stuffed the second hamburger into his mouth, his cheeks bulging, and his voice was muffled.
A long queue had formed outside the food truck, stretching from the sidewalk all the way to the iron railings at the amusement park entrance.
Most of the people in line were residents who had come from the memorial service, and they were holding white daisies that had fallen from their bouquets.
Li En, munching on her hamburger, stared at the food cart for a while before suddenly speaking:
"I need to start a company."
Frank turned his head and stared at Li En's profile for a few seconds, but didn't reply immediately.
"Our money all comes from dubious sources." Li En stuffed the last bite of his hamburger into his mouth and wiped his fingers with a tissue.
"And to be honest, do you really think the gang's money is only what we stole?"
Frank curled his lip: "Of course not."
The Amick Group building alone is worth over 100 million.
The cash the two men found in the safe, plus the bar's operating revenue, amounted to only a small fraction of what they had earned.
Most of the assets—real estate, equity, and trust funds—have been frozen and seized by the government.
The fact that fixed assets cannot be seized is a fatal flaw.
"So, we need to start a company," Li En said again.
"What for, security?" Frank thought for a moment; the only thing the two of them could offer was their combat ability.
Start a security company and take on some government-outsourced security contracts, or work as a private bodyguard for wealthy people.
This is the most direct path to monetization.
"Security work only makes a little money; we'll have to figure it out later." Images of the port flashed through Li En's mind.
Container cranes, cargo ship berths, the former pier of the Razor Gang.
As long as you can control the port, you can make money by doing trade.
Even if it's just collecting tolls, it adds up to a considerable amount over a year.
Suddenly, cheers erupted from the direction of the memorial service stage.
That kind of roar that only occurs at concerts or when a superstar appears.
Lee and Frank both turned to look at the same time.
A dark-haired man with a small mustache walked onto the stage and pushed the mayor away from the microphone.
He was wearing a dark gray suit, with the top two buttons of his white shirt undone, and no tie.
He spread his arms to the sides, palms down, and the cheers from the audience automatically subsided.
The scene fell silent within seconds.
All eyes were on him.
The sunlight hit his shoulders at the perfect angle, framing him entirely in a halo of light.
"Everyone, I am very saddened by this incident."
Tony Stark took the microphone off its stand, held it in his hand, and the sound filled the entire playground through the loudspeaker.
"Therefore, Stark Industries will establish a foundation specifically to help victims of similar incidents."
"The first phase of funding will be 30 million."
The mayor led the applause.
Although this foundation is not managed by the municipality, the list of victims is drawn up here.
When the time comes, as long as you write down a few more people's names, you'll get some money.
This is a long-term foundation; it's a steady, gradual process that accumulates over time.
His money as mayor was all accumulated little by little in this way.
Frank snorted and crushed the empty coffee cup, then threw it into the nearby trash can.
He turned to look at Li En and found that Li En was staring at the podium with a subtle expression on his face.
"You really hate that guy?"
Frank could tell that Lee was a little unhappy.
He himself seemed unaware of this, his face still showing no expression.
Li En looked at the man standing on the podium, the center of attention.
The sunlight shone on Tony Stark's dark gray suit, making every fine hair on his shoulders shine.
Hundreds of people in the audience were simultaneously taking photos with their phones, the shutter sounds echoing everywhere. He spoke softly:
"I'm just used to being the main character, with the world always revolving around me. Now that I'm on the sidelines, I feel a little resentful."
He was talking about his memories before he traveled through time.
The protagonist in the game always stands in the center of the screen, and all the plots revolve around him. All the NPCs are waiting for him to trigger the next quest.
Now he stands at the edge of the crowd, chewing on a three-dollar hamburger, watching another man establish a foundation amidst the cheers of hundreds of people.
He couldn't quite put his finger on what that feeling was.
"That's true. The focus of this mourning should have been on the victims."
"The mayor tried to steal it, but Tony Stark stole it from him instead."
Frank's voice was cold, stating a result he had long anticipated.
Li En turned her head to the side: "Aren't you angry?"
The Frank family were all victims of this incident.
"It's just a show; I have my own way of venting."
"Brock is right, those who survive still have to live."
"Only when someone pays money can you get something substantial."
Frank smirked and held up three fingers.
"And... I got 300,000."
Li En gasped.
No wonder this guy was in a good mood this morning; he ate two hamburgers next to the food truck.
He turned his head and looked again at the shining man on the podium.
Tony Stark, the protagonist of the world, an arms dealer, and the future Iron Man.
He's just a policeman on the fringes of society now.
This feeling is a bit unpleasant.
Frank stared thoughtfully at Lee's profile.
Sunlight shone from the direction of the amusement park, casting deep shadows on Lee Eun's cheekbones and jawline.
He wasn't sure what Li En had just said.
What does it mean to be used to being the main character?
……