Chapter 97: Chapter 97 First Encounter with Obadiah!
Manhattan, a local bar.
"Natasha, has anyone ever told you that you look like someone?"
Under the dim, trance-inducing music, Anton suddenly spoke, his eyes fixed on the red-haired woman beside him.
"Who?" Natasha asked, clinking glasses with him.
"Catwoman from the Batman movies," Anton said, his gaze lingering a few moments on her curvaceous figure. Smiling, he added, "You give off the same vibe—something alluring, mysterious. And, of course, your figure is... impressive."
"So, what you're saying is you'd love to see me in Catwoman outfit?" Natasha retorted with a playful smile before her expression turned icy. Her tone shifted to seriousness.
"But let me make this clear: I'm not the kind of woman you can mess around with, boss."
"That enough for tonight."
With that, she stood up decisively, swaying her hips as she left the bar and disappeared from Anton view.
"Anton, even you can't get every woman, huh?"
The bartender, an old acquaintance of Anton, grinned as he poured him another drink.
"This one on the house," he said with a chuckle. "To keep you company on a lonely night."
"Lonely?" Anton scoffed. "Do you really believe that if I waved my hand, there wouldn't be women lining up to sleep with me, crowding this bar out the door?"
"If that what you think, I won't argue," the bartender replied with a shrug.
"Later," Anton said, standing up to leave.
Outside, he saw Natasha just as she got into a taxi. Her expression showed neither anger nor embarrassment. Instead, she seemed amused as she watched the taxi pull away.
Anton didn't buy it for a second. He knew better than to think that the famous Natasha Romanoff would get flustered over a simple teasing remark.
Clearly, this was a game of hard to get.
"One day, you'll be in that Catwoman outfit," Anton muttered to himself with a smirk. He hailed his own taxi to head home.
Meanwhile, inside Natasha taxi.
"Any updates?"
The driver asked casually. If Anton had been there, he would've immediately recognized the driver as none other than Clint Barton—Hawkeye, whom he had recently defeated in an earlier encounter.
"Seems like a playboy," Natasha replied, shaking her head. She paused, then added, "But he did have a private conversation with Eddie at The Daily Bugle. I couldn't catch what they were discussing, but it seemed work-related, likely nothing too critical."
"If he really is Batman," Clint pressed, "do you think there any chance he'd join the superhero team the Director is trying to assemble?"
"Hard to say," Natasha said, her tone thoughtful. "But I doubt he the type to play second fiddle. Every time Batman appears, he the one calling the shots."
She glanced at Clint and added, "Besides, on a personal level, you don't seem too keen on him joining, do you?"
"Agents don't act based on feelings," Clint replied flatly.
Night fell over Los Angeles, the waves crashing against the cliffs beneath Tony Stark luxurious mansion. Moonlight bathed the scene, adding an ethereal glow to the extravagant event inside.
The party was already in full swing. Celebrities, tycoons, and influencers mingled, sipping on expensive cocktails. Journalists were kept at bay, with only a few daring souls managing to sneak in, though most ended up being escorted out by security. A few stunning female reporters, however, managed to charm their way past the gates by latching onto wealthy attendees.
At the Mansion Entrance.
Anton arrived impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuding a sharp and confident aura. By his side, Natasha Romanoff drew every eye with her elegant yet provocative gown, a subtle but undeniable statement of dominance and allure.
The pair breezed past the security checkpoint and J.A.R.V.I.S. automated identification system without issue.
Anton sharp eyes quickly found Tony Stark at the center of the room, surrounded by a bevy of admirers and his usual entourage of gorgeous women. Among the guests, Anton spotted several familiar faces—friends from his wild socialite days.
"Anton! Long time no see!"
"You've been skipping all the fun lately, man!"
"You actually beat Tony Stark in that bet! Made me a small fortune—good on you, buddy!"
The group of old acquaintances greeted Anton warmly, their tone a mix of genuine camaraderie and lighthearted jealousy.
They exchanged nods toward Natasha, visibly impressed, before turning back to Anton.
With a grin, Anton shared a few pleasantries before excusing himself to approach Tony.
The Party Centerpiece.
Tony Stark was holding court, as usual, but tonight he was deep in conversation with a bald, older man exuding an air of authority and subtle menace. Anton immediately recognized him—Obadiah Stane, the man secretly responsible for Tony abduction and a key player behind the scenes at Stark Industries.
"Hey, Anton!"
Obadiah greeted Anton warmly, stepping forward with a grin that suggested he thought himself the host of the evening.
"I'm Obadiah," he introduced himself, extending a hand.
"Nice to meet you," Anton replied, matching the older man smile as they shook hands. "I've heard plenty about you—Stark Industries' esteemed CEO. Your reputation precedes you."
"And you, young man," Obadiah countered smoothly, "are making waves with The Daily Bugle and DC Entertainment. I admire your energy; it something we older folks could learn from."
The exchange was cordial but laden with subtle undertones.
Obadiah continued, "Speaking of collaborations, I think Stark Industries and The Daily Bugle could have a lot of synergy in the future. In fact..."
He paused for effect, then leaned in slightly.
"Half a month from now, Stark Industries, in partnership with Octavius Industries, will host a public demonstration of our Artificial Sun Experiment in New York. It going to be a landmark event for science and energy innovation. We'd be honored if The Daily Bugle covered it. You are, after all, the most trusted voice in New York!"
Anton expression didn't betray his thoughts, but inwardly, he was intrigued.
"Of course," he replied, his tone calm and agreeable.
"Perfect." Obadiah smiled, satisfied. "Well, I'll leave you young folks to your conversation. These old bones have other guests to entertain."
With that, Obadiah excused himself, leaving Anton alone with Tony.
The Talk with Tony.
Anton turned to Tony, who looked at him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
"So," Anton began, smirking, "did you just throw this party because you lost our bet and needed an excuse to see me?"
Tony snorted, swirling his drink. "Come on, Anton. You know I don't need excuses for a party. But yeah, a deal a deal. Enjoy the free booze—it on me."
Anton chuckled, glancing around at the lively atmosphere. "Obadiah got quite the presence here tonight."
Tony smirk faded for a moment, replaced by something more serious. "Yeah, he always in his element at these things."
Anton caught the subtle shift in tone but chose not to press further. Instead, he raised his glass.
"To your next big invention," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And may it not blow up in your face this time."
Tony rolled his eyes but clinked glasses with Anton.
"Here to hoping," Tony quipped, his signature smirk returning.
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