Chapter 49: Brothers United
The bar's parking lot.
Chris, the holy messenger revered by everyone in the bar, was currently doing something rather questionable.
Originally, Chris was going to find the hotel manager to collect his emotional damages and accommodation compensation.
But he hadn't gone far when he found a motorcycle key in his pocket.
No need to think, this must belong to the biker who lent him his clothes.
After discovering the key, Chris turned around without hesitation and walked towards the parking lot, then started trying the key.
There were only a few motorcycles here, and Chris didn't take long to find the tough guy's motorcycle.
Then Chris sat on it without ceremony.
If he lent his clothes, why couldn't he lend his motorcycle?
And what kind of Terminator is a Terminator without a motorcycle?
With this thought, Chris reached out and took the sunglasses left on another motorcycle.
He started the motorcycle and pulled up to a car, then looked in the car's side mirror. Chris sighed, "It's a shame Arnold Schwarzenegger got the role first, otherwise the T-800 would've looked like me!"
After a moment of self-admiration, Chris revved the motorcycle again, and with a violent roar, Chris sped towards the bank that shared the hotel chain's name.
He hadn't forgotten his initial plan of making money.
That hotel was one he had specifically scouted for compensation potential, so it naturally wouldn't be some cheap motel.
Not only was it a national chain, but it also had its own private banking services and insurance company.
So, for such a wealthy establishment, Chris naturally had no habit of going easy on them.
When the roaring motorcycle arrived at the bank, it was already crowded with people, all disheveled, some even just wearing bathrobes.
These were all the guests Chris had saved by pulling the fire alarm at the time.
However, there must have been some guests who didn't escape in time, so now there were still police officers frantically tallying the death toll and identity information.
After all, guests who could afford to stay in such a high-end hotel were at least upper-middle-class professionals, not ordinary people who could be easily dismissed.
"Ah! Sir, it's a pleasure to see you here!"
At this moment, the hotel manager saw Chris enter, immediately put down the guest he was comforting, and rushed over to greet him.
He had a deep impression of Chris; after all, not long after this peculiar guest paid twenty thousand dollars for an extended stay, their hotel was blown to ruins by a tanker truck.
When inventorying the guest list afterward, the hotel manager was still regretting that this guest was too unlucky and had died in the explosion!
Unexpectedly, just as their hotel was about to look up this guest's information for compensation, he saw him walk through the door alive.
This saved their hotel at least tens of millions in compensation, so it was certainly worth the hotel manager abandoning the comforting of those other guests to rush over and talk to Chris.
However, the moment Chris entered the bank, he saw the families queuing up to collect death compensation and those survivors who were not being paid much attention.
This immediately gave Chris an idea.
Chris asked expressionlessly, "Do you know my brother? Have you found his remains?"
"Ah, this!" Hearing Chris's question, the hotel manager's originally excited expression immediately stiffened; he had already realized something was wrong.
"I am his younger brother. I rushed over immediately after hearing what happened. Have you still not found his remains?"
Facing Chris's renewed questioning, the hotel manager regained his composure and said firmly, "Are you sure you're not joking? We will conduct identity verification. If we find you attempting insurance fraud, we can ask the police to arrest you immediately!"
Looking at Chris, whose appearance hadn't changed except for his clothes, the hotel manager grew more confident as he spoke.
However, Chris didn't back down, pointing to his skin and shouting, "Open your eyes and look! My brother's skin is at least two shades darker than mine. Can't you see such an obvious difference?"
Seeing Chris so confident, the hotel manager recalled the guest and found that he was indeed not as fair-skinned as the person in front of him.
This flawless complexion was indeed not easy to fake.
The hotel manager, left speechless, immediately apologized, "I am truly sorry, sir, it was my error to suspect you without any evidence. How about this—as long as you can provide valid proof, we can expedite the processing of your compensation!"
Stewie, seeing this scene through the wristwatch feed, praised happily, "Well done, Chris! Those corporate suits should bleed their wallets dry!"
However, Chris hesitated at the hotel manager's words, because he couldn't prove it.
He hadn't verified his identity when he stayed at the hotel before; he had just given a name, paid the money, and checked in with his bag.
And now, after bluffing the other party, Chris remembered that he was still an unregistered resident in this world, so where could he get identity proof?
The hotel manager saw Chris's prolonged silence and asked with a concerned expression, "What's wrong, sir? Do you have any other questions?"
He didn't suspect Chris's identity again; he just thought the other party was still processing the grief of losing his brother.
"Sir, please accept my condolences! According to our company's compensation standards, you can receive at least thirty million in compensation, and because your brother paid twenty thousand dollars in rent and didn't get to use most of it, the company will additionally pay two million dollars for your brother's unused services and emotional damages."
Hearing about so much compensation, Chris's eyes lit up, then dimmed again.
'Damn it, where am I supposed to get identity proof! Should I make up an excuse to see the money first, then just rob them?'
Fortunately, Chris wasn't the only one tempted by this money; even Stewie, watching the show in Family Guy World, was eager to act at this scene.
Although he couldn't spend this money himself, as long as it could benefit his family at corporate expense, Stewie would feel happy.
So, in order to successfully obtain this money, Stewie immediately began his operation. He remotely accessed the wristwatch across dimensions, directly hacking into the US Social Security Administration system of this world.
Then he entered Chris's identity information and also created information for his fictional brother.
After doing all this, Stewie did not forget to notify Chris.
Chris's wristband vibrated slightly, making Chris's arm tingle.
Then Chris looked down and saw a subtitle appear on it, which was Stewie's message.
'You owe me this money! -- Stewie'
Seeing Chris suddenly lower his head, the hotel manager thought the other party was overwhelmed by grief that his brother's life had been reduced to thirty million dollars, and immediately said again, "Sir, the dead cannot be brought back to life. I think you should accept your brother's legacy and live on with his memory. What do you think?"
Seeing the message on the watch, Chris didn't know how Stewie did it, but he felt more confident now.
He composed himself, then said sadly, "I will. I'll carry his memory with me."
Feigning the grief of losing his brother, Chris followed the hotel manager to a bank cubicle and began to confirm his identity information.
As the bank employee found Chris's identity information on the computer and then saw his brother's identity information, he immediately asked, "Mr. Griffin, can you confirm this is correct?"
"Huh?" Chris, still acting grief-stricken, was momentarily stunned, then saw the name "Christopher Griffin" below with a brother listed as "Stewart Griffin."
"Is there a problem?" Hearing Chris's exclamation, the bank employee asked with concern.
"No, nothing! That's correct."
For the sake of thirty-two million dollars, Chris overlooked Stewie's choice to use their actual family names.
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