Chapter 50: Death is Getting Desperate
When Chris walked out of the bank, his wealth had once again skyrocketed.
The five hundred thousand US dollars that had originally disappeared had returned to him, multiplied sixty-four times over.
Declining the bank security's offer of an escort, Chris carried a large duffel bag in each hand and strolled out of the bank's main entrance.
After graciously seeing Chris off, the hotel manager turned to the hotel guests who were still waiting for compensation and said, "Ladies and gentlemen! Our Marriott Hotel has the resources and the commitment to compensate you for your rightful losses.
So please calmly provide your information and then wait for our compensation process."
With Chris's example, the guests waiting for money believed the hotel manager's words and no longer made a fuss as before.
After calming all the guests, the hotel manager waved over a former hotel security guard and then asked in a low voice, "Have you found out what company owns that tanker truck?"
"Sir, we found it. It's owned by a Rockefeller subsidiary. However, we still can't determine the specific cause; the legal department is still negotiating with them."
After hearing his subordinate's report, the hotel manager quietly went to the bank office again and said to the bank manager handling the compensation, "The tanker came from Rockefeller Oil Company, so inflate the claims. They can definitely afford it."
Hearing the hotel manager's words, the bank manager, who had been full of worry, immediately relaxed. "So it's a Rockefeller enterprise? Then the original forty million estimate was indeed too low."
As he spoke, he pulled out six documents and said, "Here is the list of currently confirmed deceased, one of which is the tanker driver. If we claim thirty-five million per person, it's only one hundred seventy-five million in total.
Even with the survivors, it's just over two hundred million US dollars, which means we'd be shortchanging ourselves. How about we include the tanker driver as a hotel fatality, report fifty million for each deceased, and five hundred thousand for each survivor?"
Hearing the bank manager's bold proposal, the hotel manager pondered and calculated, 'Six deceased for three hundred million, one hundred twenty-seven guests for sixty-three million five hundred thousand, that's less than four hundred million?'
The hotel manager, who was nearing sixty and had a large family at home, his expression darkened, and he asked, determined to go all in, "Can we do more? The hotel was destroyed this time; I'm definitely going to be held accountable and will certainly lose my job.
It's rare for you to encounter such a big opportunity in your life; why not make enough to retire comfortably? How about we both head to the Bahamas and live out the rest of our lives in luxury?"
Hearing the hotel manager's words, the bank manager's expression changed repeatedly, finally gritting his teeth and saying, "Let's do it. You modify some of the past guest records, and I can report up to one point three billion US dollars."
The two, having reached a corrupt agreement, immediately began their embezzlement scheme.
Meanwhile, Chris took his money and began his journey to find Iris.
First, he went to a motorcycle dealership and traded up for a classic Harley-Davidson, the model from Terminator 2, then got a brand-new set of black leather gear, and then headed towards Iris's residence.
Although the internet only reported the state and town where Iris lived, Chris believed that as long as he reached her area, he could find her by simply asking around.
After all, according to the movie timeline, she was once a local hero who saved hundreds of people.
And it wasn't yet decades after she went into hiding; with her eccentric behavior, many people would surely still remember her.
After filling the motorcycle with gas, Chris pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills from his backpack and handed them over.
Then, under the astonished gaze of the gas station attendant, Chris drove away.
However, as Chris embarked on his journey, perhaps Death's cooldown period ended, and a new round of attacks arrived.
Less than two hours after Chris started riding, a logging truck lost control, and the logs instantly flew off the vehicle.
The classic scene from Final Destination 2 appeared before Chris, but he scanned his surroundings and found that he was the only one on this stretch of road.
He immediately exclaimed, "You're really obsessed with me, aren't you, Death!"
As he spoke, a log came within dozens of meters of Chris, looking as if it was about to hit him.
But this speed was still too slow for Chris; he twisted the throttle, and in an instant, the motorcycle veered onto the shoulder of the road.
This motorcycle's top speed is 148 kilometers per hour, which is over 41 meters per second.
Although it wasn't as fast as Chris's running speed, it still surpassed these wildly tumbling logs.
Therefore, under Chris's powerful control, he easily weaved through these log clusters, which flew like cannonballs, directly covering several kilometers to reach the logging truck.
Looking at the truck driver standing in front of the truck, his face full of confusion, Chris shouted, "Watch where you're driving! You almost killed me!"
Then Chris twisted the throttle and accelerated away again, leaving the surprised truck driver staring blankly.
Because Death was involved, and no other innocent people were harmed, Chris only reprimanded the truck driver and had no intention of doing more.
As Chris safely passed the truck incident, Death quieted down for a few more hours, and then Chris felt a different threat in the air.
First, a tattered newspaper floated past his eyes, showing headlines about satellites America had lost in orbit.
Then Chris saw a crack appear in the sky, and with his extraordinary eyesight, Chris could clearly see that it was a strangely shaped chunk of metal.
Connecting it to the newspaper he had just seen, Chris immediately understood that it was satellite debris.
Thinking of the numbers recorded in the newspaper just now, Chris followed the first piece of satellite debris and saw nearly thousands of metal fragments, large and small.
And besides the satellite debris, Chris was shocked to find meteorites among them.
Seeing this scene, Chris immediately cursed, "Are you kidding me, Death! Weren't there only satellite fragments? Why the hell are there meteorites mixed in! Are you cheating!"
Looking at the approaching satellite rain, Chris turned the handlebars and changed direction, preparing to make a detour.
After all, even with his recovery ability, being hit by so many satellite fragments and meteorites, he wouldn't have time to recover and would be completely pulverized.
Fortunately, he discovered it in time, and there was still a possibility of escape.
Otherwise, Chris could only pray for external support from Stewie, to see if that little genius could pull him out of this world.
As Chris moved away from the satellite debris impact zone, he breathed a sigh of relief, occasionally turning his head to look back at the massive dust cloud that had risen.
However, before Chris could admire it for long, he felt that the surrounding air pressure was wrong, and then he suddenly looked up.
He saw a massive meteorite, several hundred meters in diameter, already falling towards Chris's location.
It descended with an awe-inspiring, earth-shattering force, giving Chris no time to escape. The moment Chris spotted it, he immediately abandoned his Harley motorcycle and fled from the area at his maximum speed.
At the critical moment of his escape, Chris's mind flashed with the meteorite's velocity data; a minimum speed of 11 kilometers per second was clearly not the limit of this space rock.
Its size, several hundred meters in diameter, could create a crater several kilometers wide and several hundred meters deep, bringing with it seismic tremors that would devastate hundreds of kilometers around.
The more he recalled the destructive power of such a massive meteorite, the more despair Chris felt.
But the will to survive spurred Chris to run even more frantically, pushing his speed beyond his limits again, and he felt the air resisting him like thick syrup.
Then Chris's clothes all burned away; he had broken the sound barrier.
His extreme speed, close to 340 meters per second, allowed Chris to cover over two kilometers in nearly 7 seconds, and then a sound like the apocalypse came from behind him.
In less than 1 second, Chris was carried several kilometers away by a devastating shockwave, and the instantaneous acceleration directly flattened Chris into a meat patty.
But fortunately, such a violent shockwave not only didn't obliterate him but also helped him escape the central area where the meteorite damage was most catastrophic.
Beyond the several-kilometer-wide meteorite crater, and then a few more kilometers out, Chris lay sprawled on the ground like a broken ragdoll, with dust filling the sky, but it couldn't hide Chris's relief.
He had now entirely become a liquid state; except for a part of his brain that hadn't turned into mush, all his other body tissues had been thoroughly pulverized by the shockwave.
As Chris confirmed he had survived, he also confirmed one thing.
Death... was getting desperate!!!
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