The bar's parking shed.
Chris, the Holy Son revered by everyone in the bar, was currently doing something shameful.
Originally, Chris was going to find the Hotel Manager to get back his emotional damages and accommodation compensation.
But he hadn't gone far when he found a motorcycle key on him.
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 shed, 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 came to a car, then looked in the car's rearview mirror. Chris sighed, "It's a pity I was born too late, otherwise, if the T800 didn't look like me, it would be Skynet's loss!"
After a moment of self-admiration, Chris started the motorcycle again, and with a violent roar, Chris sped towards the bank that shared the hotel's name.
He hadn't forgotten his initial idea of making money.
That hotel was one he had specifically scouted for compensation, so it naturally wouldn't be some third-rate hotel.
Not only was it a national chain, but it also had its own private bank and insurance company.
So, for such a wealthy establishment, Chris naturally had no habit of saving them money.
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 travelers Chris had saved by pulling the fire alarm at the time.
However, there must have been some travelers who didn't escape in time, so now there were still police officers frantically tallying the death toll and identity information there.
After all, travelers who could afford to stay in such a high-end hotel were at least senior white-collar workers, 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 traveler 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 two thousand dollars for his room, 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 the other party again.
This saved their hotel at least tens of millions in compensation, so it was certainly worth the Hotel Manager abandoning the comforting of those travelers to rush over and talk to Chris.
However, the moment Chris entered the hotel, he saw the families queuing up to collect death compensation and those travelers 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 confirmed, "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 humor him, pointing to his skin color and shouting, "Open your dog 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 customer and found that he was indeed not fairer than the person in front of him.
This infant-like skin was indeed not so easy to fake.
The Hotel Manager, left speechless, immediately apologized, "I am truly sorry, sir, it was my work 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!"
Dumpling, seeing this scene through his wristband, praised happily, "Well done, Chris! Those capitalists should bleed heavily!"
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 fooling 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 puzzled 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 immersed in 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 two thousand dollars in rent and didn't use it, the company will additionally pay two million dollars for your brother's emotional damages."
Hearing about so much compensation, Chris's eyes lit up, then dimmed again.
'Damn it, where am I supposed to get you identity proof! Should I make up an excuse to look at the money first, then just rob them?'
Fortunately, Chris wasn't the only one tempted by this money; even Dumpling, watching the show in Family Guy World, was eager to act at this scene.
Although he couldn't spend this money, as long as it could benefit himself at others' expense, Dumpling would feel happy.
So, in order to successfully obtain this money, Dumpling immediately began his operation. He crossed time and space to operate his wristband, directly hacking into the US Social Security Number system of this world.
Then he entered Chris's identity information and also created information for his brother.
After doing all this, Dumpling did not forget to hint at Chris.
Chris's wristband flashed with electricity, making Chris's arm tingle.
Then Chris looked down and saw a subtitle appear on it, which was Dumpling's message.
'You owe me this money! -- Stewie left a message'
Seeing Chris suddenly lower his head, the Hotel Manager thought the other party was angry that he had equated his brother's life to thirty million dollars, and immediately said again, "Sir, the dead cannot be brought back to life. I think you should take your brother's inheritance, and live on with his share, what do you think?"
Seeing the message on the watch, Chris didn't know how Dumpling did it, but he felt more confident.
He composed himself, then said sadly, "I will, I'll take his share with me."
Feigning the grief of losing his brother, Chris followed the other party to the 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 confirmed, "Mr. Stewie, can you confirm?"
"Huh?" Chris, still acting, was stunned, then saw Stewie Griffin's name below his own name.
"Is there a problem?" Hearing Chris's exclamation, the bank employee asked.
"No, nothing! That's me."
For the sake of thirty-two million dollars, Chris overlooked Dumpling's messing around.