When Chris walked out of the bank, his wealth had once again skyrocketed.
The 500,000 US dollars that had originally disappeared had returned to him, multiplied sixty-four times.
Declining the bank security's offer of an escort, Chris carried a large bag in each hand and floated out of the bank's main entrance.
After smilingly seeing Chris off, the Hotel Manager turned to the hotel guests who were still waiting for compensation and said, "Gentlemen, ladies! Our Marriott Hotel has the strength and the ability to compensate you for your rightful losses.
So please quietly log in your information and then wait for our compensation."
With Chris's example, the travelers 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 previous hotel security guard and then asked in a low voice, "Have you found out the company that owns that oil tanker?"
"Sir, we found it. It's an industry under Rockefeller. However, we still can't determine the specific reason; the legal department is still negotiating with the other party."
After hearing his subordinate's report, the Hotel Manager quietly went to the bank cubicle again and said to the bank manager handling the compensation, "The oil tanker came from Rockefeller Oil Company, so make the accounts higher. 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 account was indeed a bit low."
As he spoke, he pulled out six documents and asked, "Here is the list of currently confirmed deceased, one of which is the oil tanker driver. If we compensate thirty-five million per person, it's only one hundred seventy-five million in total.
Even with those who are still alive, it's just over two hundred million US dollars, which means we'd be getting a bit less. How about we include the oil tanker driver as a hotel deceased, report fifty million for each deceased, and five hundred thousand for each living person?"
Hearing the bank manager's bold request, the Hotel Manager pondered and calculated, 'Six deceased for three hundred million, one hundred twenty-seven travelers 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 out, "Can we do more? The hotel was blown up this time; I'm definitely going to be held accountable and will certainly be out of a job.
It's rare for you to encounter such a big deal in your life; why not make enough to last a lifetime? How about we both go to the Maldives and live out the rest of our lives in style?"
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 check-in records, and I can report up to one point three billion US dollars."
The two, having reached a consensus on cooperation, immediately began their money-making plan.
Meanwhile, Chris took his money and began his journey to find someone.
First, he went to a motorcycle shop and exchanged for a classic Harley motorcycle, the Terminator model, then got a brand-new set of Terminator clothing, 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 home's vicinity, he could find her by simply asking around.
After all, according to the movie, she was once a famous person who saved hundreds of people.
And it wasn't yet decades after she disappeared; with her eccentric demeanor, many people would surely still know of her existence.
After filling the motorcycle with gas, Chris pulled out a few banknotes 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 the Grim Reaper's cooldown period ended, and a new round of attacks arrived.
Less than two hours after Chris started riding, a truck loaded with logs 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 riding on the road.
He immediately exclaimed, "You really love me deeply, Grim Reaper!"
As he sighed, 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 handle, and in an instant, the motorcycle rode onto the wilderness at the side 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 crashing logs.
Therefore, under Chris's powerful control, he easily crossed these log clusters, which were like cannonballs, directly covering several kilometers to reach the log truck.
Looking at the truck driver standing in front of the truck, his face full of pain, Chris shouted, "fuck you! You almost killed me!"
Then Chris twisted the throttle and accelerated away again, leaving the surprised truck driver staring blankly.
Because the Grim Reaper was involved, and no other innocent people were harmed, Chris only reprimanded the truck driver and had no intention of killing him.
As Chris safely passed the truck incident, the Grim Reaper quieted down for a few more hours, and then Chris felt a different aura again.
First, a tattered newspaper floated past his eyes, showing the number of satellites America had lost in space.
Then Chris saw a crack appear in the sky, and with his extraordinary eyesight, Chris could clearly see that it was a strangely shaped lump of iron.
Connecting it to the newspaper he had just seen, Chris immediately understood that it was satellite debris.
Thinking of the number 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 surprised to find meteorites among them.
Seeing this scene, Chris immediately cursed, "fuck your mother, Grim Reaper! Weren't there only satellite fragments? Why the fuck are there meteorites mixed in! Are you fucking playing dirty!"
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 ahead, he wouldn't have time to recover and would be completely smashed to bits.
Fortunately, he discovered it in time, and there was still a possibility of escape.
Otherwise, Chris could only pray for external support from Dumpling, to see if that guy could pull him out of this world.
As Chris moved away from the satellite debris fall zone, he breathed a sigh of relief, occasionally turning his head to look back at the boundless dust cloud that had risen.
However, before Chris could admire it for long, he felt that the surrounding air was not right, and then he suddenly looked up.
He saw a giant meteorite, several hundred meters in diameter, already falling towards Chris's location.
It descended with an awe-inspiring, earth-shattering might, giving Chris no time to escape. The moment Chris discovered it, he immediately abandoned his Harley motorcycle and fled from the area at his fastest speed.
At the critical moment of his escape, Chris's mind flashed with the meteorite's speed data; a minimum speed of 11 kilometers per second was clearly not the limit of this meteorite.
Its size, several hundred meters in diameter, could create a crater several kilometers wide and several hundred meters deep, bringing with it strong seismic tremors that would disturb hundreds of kilometers around.
The more he recalled the power of such a high-level meteorite, the more despair Chris felt.
But the hope for life spurred Chris to run even more frantically, pushing his speed beyond his limits again, and he felt the air resisting him like glue.
Then Chris's clothes all burned away; he had touched the sound barrier.
His extreme speed, close to 340 meters per second, allowed Chris to run over two kilometers in nearly 7 seconds, and then a sound like the sky falling to earth came from behind him.
In less than 1 second, Chris was carried several kilometers away by a strong impact, and the instantaneous acceleration directly flattened Chris into a meat patty.
But fortunately, such a violent shockwave not only didn't shatter him but also helped him escape the central area where the meteorite damage was highest.
Beyond the several-kilometer-wide meteorite crater, and then a few more kilometers out, Chris lay sprawled on the ground like a broken doll, with dust filling the sky, but it couldn't hide Chris's joy.
He had now entirely become a liquid state; except for a part of his brain that hadn't turned into brain matter, all his other body tissues had been thoroughly churned to pieces by the shockwave.
As Chris confirmed he had survived, he also confirmed one thing.
The Grim Reaper... He was getting anxious!!!
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