Chapter Four: Tony Stark

Aboard the luxury liner Ocean Liberty, Arthur leaned against the railing, letting the sea breeze tousle his golden hair. He had already inquired and learned that the ship’s destination was none other than New York, sparing him the aimless wandering at sea like a headless fly; all he needed to do was stay aboard, and New York City would come to him.

The cruise ship offered every imaginable comfort. For the first time in ages, Arthur could once again savor human cuisine—bread, steak, cake, red wine—the very things he had longed for most. In the dining hall, he devoured the feast before him with utter abandon, paying no mind to the curious glances cast his way. Since his journey began, he hadn’t enjoyed a single proper meal, and he spent two full hours eating.

Burping contentedly as he strolled lazily along the deck, Arthur was thoroughly satiated and decided to walk off his meal with a bit of exploration. The ship was indeed vast. “You have to admit, this is a big one. Hey, beautiful!” he called out to a blonde woman approaching him. She didn’t spare him a glance, however—hardly surprising, given his disheveled hair, ragged clothing, and beggar-like appearance.

Bored after wandering the ship, Arthur found a particularly luxurious-looking room, indulged in a blissful bath, shaved his patchy beard, and admired the youthful face that greeted him in the mirror. “Still as handsome as ever,” he mused to himself with no small amount of vanity.

“Who are you?” came the voice of a middle-aged man from behind him—it seemed the room’s owner had returned. “Sorry about this,” Arthur replied, before swiftly knocking the man out with a chop to the neck. Laying the stranger on the sofa, Arthur found a wallet full of cards and a fat stack of bills.

He chose a blue shirt and a pair of slacks from the wardrobe, which fit reasonably well, and stepped out. Arthur wandered the ship again and before he knew it, he found himself drawn into the bustling casino. The place was enormous, teeming with people. Dice and cards, tuxedoed waiters, and glamorous blonde croupiers—all were present.

Arthur watched the Texas Hold’em tables with interest, though he only knew how to play Chinese card games like Dou Dizhu and mahjong. Winners roared with laughter, while losers slumped in dejection. Observing these wealthy patrons in all their variety, Arthur couldn’t help but recall the poverty of his childhood with his father—simple but warm days.

As he walked, a familiar figure caught his eye. “Holy—Robert Downey Jr.!” No, here he would be Tony Stark. Arthur watched excitedly from the crowd as Tony Stark, surrounded by two stunning women, played at the table. “He’s exactly like in the movies, only younger,” Arthur thought with awe.

Arthur didn’t try to approach Tony; he had no idea how to introduce himself to his favorite superhero, and Tony Stark hadn’t even built the Iron Man suit yet, after all.

So it was that Arthur spent his days quietly observing Tony Stark onboard, and his nights diving into the sea to absorb the ocean’s energy. A week passed.

At last, the ship reached its destination: the port of New York City. Blending into the crowd disembarking onto the unfamiliar city streets, Arthur declared, “New York, here I come!” He hadn’t introduced himself to Tony Stark—he knew there would be better opportunities in the future. There was no rush.

On the eastern beach of New York, a new grilled fish restaurant opened, named Atlantis. This would be Arthur’s next endeavor. He needed to settle in New York if he wanted to be part of the unfolding story.

Arthur returned to his old trade—fishing. The restaurant was funded with the twenty thousand dollars he’d found in that man’s wallet on the ship, and he hired a young American chef. The chef, Jack, had previously run a country restaurant and possessed ample kitchen experience, but after his business failed, he’d come to New York in search of work.

Jack spotted Arthur renovating the seaside restaurant and inquired about a chef position. It was perfect timing—Arthur needed exactly that. The two hit it off and decided to run the place together.

Since Arthur had no green card, Jack handled all the legalities. Having run a restaurant before, Jack quickly got all the permits in order. Soon, he noticed his young boss was rather extraordinary—each morning, Arthur would return from the sea with a boatload of fish, sometimes even bluefin tuna weighing several hundred pounds. How did he do it?

In his spare time, Jack asked his boss about it. Arthur explained that he had been fishing since childhood—it was his way of life. Jack accepted this and, over time, ceased to be surprised.

In truth, fishing had become child’s play for Arthur. He could now communicate with schools of fish and even control all within a hundred meters. Each night, by absorbing energy from the ocean floor, his abilities only grew.

A month passed.

Atlantis became the hottest spot on the New York shoreline. Not only did it offer a wide variety of fresh fish, but on weekends, diners could enjoy delectable bluefin tuna feasts. The restaurant’s name spread, drawing crowds from all around. Arthur had no choice but to hire another chef and two waiters. He set up tables and chairs on the beach for guests and even invited street musicians to perform live.

Looking upon his thriving restaurant, Arthur finally felt a sense of belonging—this place was now his home.

“Jack, Jack, grilled sea bass for table six!”
“Got it!”
“Steamed sea urchin and grilled sardines for table eight!”
“Coming right up!”

Even after dark, business at Atlantis remained brisk. Suddenly, a shout rang out from outside, followed by the sound of something breaking. A group strode in, led by a burly, bald man covered in tattoos, flanked by a dozen gaudily dressed youths with hair dyed every color of the rainbow.

The leader smashed a dining table with his baseball bat, sending two customers scurrying to the side, fearful but silent.

“Who’s the boss here? Tell him to come out!” he barked at the waitress, making her tremble in fright.

“I’m the owner. And who might you be?” Arthur emerged from the kitchen.

“Who am I? Ha! They call me Lone Wolf, the boss of the Wild Wolves. This is my turf. Opening a business here without greeting us? You must have a death wish,” the man sneered.

“Oh? So I need your permission to open a restaurant?” Arthur replied coolly.

The thugs laughed uproariously. “Of course. If you want to do business here, you need to pay protection—seventy percent of your profits, to be precise!”

Jack shot Arthur a panicked, pale look. If they handed over seventy percent, the restaurant wouldn’t survive.

Arthur waved Jack off, signaling him not to worry. He turned to the big man. “And why should I pay you? If you know what’s good for you, I suggest you leave now, or else you won’t be able to walk away.”

The thugs burst into derisive laughter, as if they’d just heard the world’s funniest joke.

The bald leader’s face twisted with rage. “If you won’t respect the rules, don’t blame us for what happens. Boys, smash this place to bits!”