DC hero at Marvel

Sunset, twilight.

Golden light from the setting sun crept over the windowsill, casting a warm glow on half of Anton's body.

It was about time to clock out.

Just as Anton was about to stand, his phone vibrated on the desk with a crisp, buzzing sound.

Ring ring!

He picked up the phone and saw a familiar name displayed on the screen.

Tony Stark!

"Huh?"

Anton was taken aback. Immediately, the image of Tony Stark's cocky, goatee-framed face appeared in his mind, and he felt an instinctive annoyance.

"Anton, you didn't forget about tonight's party, did you?"

Tony Stark's playful, carefree voice came through the moment he answered.

"If you want to admit defeat now, I wouldn't mind showing some mercy."

Pure mockery.

Especially coming from a master of trash talk like Tony Stark, it was extra patronizing.

Anton hesitated for a moment as a rush of memories surfaced, clarifying the backstory.

The original owner of this body was a rich kid who loved showing off and flaunting his wealth. Though he wasn't on the same level as Tony Stark, who was already chairman of Stark Industries, they ran in overlapping circles and frequently crossed paths.

Not long ago, the two had a spat at a party and made a bet over who could pick up more girls.

Predictably, Anton lost.

Tony Stark, armed with his wealth, not only took the girl they were betting on but also used his money to whisk away every woman at the party—including the cleaning lady who was there to clean up afterward.

Incidentally, Anton's own date was part of his loss.

This left him a laughingstock.

It was undeniable; Tony Stark wasn't just a tech genius. He also excelled at picking up women and "handling" people.

As a result, they had been in a not-so-friendly rivalry at recent parties.

Anton always lost but remained stubbornly undeterred.

Tony found endless amusement in this.

According to some insiders, Tony had come to enjoy this one-sided game and was putting considerable energy into it.

The whole elite circle of New York, including other rich kids like Tony, had started placing bets on it for fun.

And tonight, it was apparently time for another round.

"Picking up girls?"

Anton felt a surge of excitement and sprang up, heading to the garage.

Vroom!

A sleek Bugatti Veyron sped down the street.

The roar of the car engine drew envious stares from passersby.

Anton wasn't exactly a pro at picking up girls, but flipping through the original owner's memories, he realized: was it even called "picking up girls" at that level?

It was just throwing money around!

Who doesn't know how to throw money?

Surely, everyone does… right?

…

"Is that guy Anton not coming tonight? Damn it, just my luck—I bet ten grand on him!"

"Dude, you actually dared to bet on Anton?"

"I've never won betting on Anton!"

"Exactly!"

"Man, if I hadn't drawn Anton's name, do you think I'd bet on him?"

Because Anton had never won, these people had resorted to a lottery system to place their bets.

Whoever's name they drew, they bet on.

A bunch of rich kids, each with a girl on their arm, gathered around the pool chatting.

Tony Stark stood in the center, surrounded by several top-tier beauties with hourglass figures. His roving eyes were practically diving into the cleavage before him.

Soon, Anton arrived.

He pushed through the crowd, seeing his usual circle of rich friends.

"You finally made it!"

"We thought you were too scared to show up!"

"Anton, I bet ten grand on you today!"

His friends greeted him warmly.

"Thanks, buddy," Anton replied to the last person, "Tonight, I'll make sure you leave with full pockets."

"Anton!"

Tony, noticing the commotion, immediately spotted his old rival.

With a swagger, he strutted over, a mocking smile on his face. "Loser—have you figured out how you're going to cry yourself to sleep tonight?"

"Tony, don't get cocky."

Anton glanced at him. "You really think that sexy little goatee of yours is what attracts women?"

"What else?"

Tony spread his arms innocently. "Why do you think I'd talk about feelings with a pretty girl? To a billionaire like me, talking about feelings insults my wealth!"

"Glad to see you get it. For beautiful women, a spot on a magazine cover is way more attractive than going to bed with a wimp like you."

Anton retorted.

"So?" Tony shrugged, unconcerned. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, because I can offer them more."

Anton eyed the busty blonde standing beside Tony and smiled. "Hey, beautiful, I have a billion-dollar project to discuss with you. Want to be my leading lady?"

"That's it?"

Tony wasn't fazed in the slightest, looking amused at Anton. "Trying to steal my girl? Come on, you've tried that twelve times now. Haven't you realized what it takes to beat me?"

He'd never had anyone successfully steal his girl before.

Naturally, his unfounded confidence never left room for anyone else to take what was his.

"Sorry, you're attractive, but I already have a date," the blonde replied, unimpressed.

As things stood, Anton had some reputation in New York, but it couldn't compete with Tony Stark, head of Stark Industries, and his global fame.

The Stark name wasn't just big in the U.S.

As a military weapons giant, Stark Industries wielded influence worldwide.

Compared to that, Anton's family wealth was like a small-town landlord compared to an aristocrat.

Nobility comes in levels.

"Alright, you'll soon realize what you missed out on."

Anton kept a straight face; although rejected, he remained confident.

With the system in hand, the world was his.

It was 2020—if a transmigrator wasn't handsome and confident, how would the readers even get immersed?

"Wow, Anton, you seem different today."

Tony observed Anton with interest. Compared to before, his old rival seemed to have gained something—a new aura.

"You seem confident?"

Tony smirked. "Do you think you're more charming than me?"

Fortunately, Anton wasn't here tonight just to pick up girls.

"Tony, we're both good-looking, so now it's down to strength," Anton said. "As you know, I just took over my family's Daily Bugle, but I'm not interested in running a newspaper…"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm planning to step into showbiz—to make movies."

"You're going to be a director?"

Tony was momentarily taken aback, eyeing Anton up and down.

Of all things, he hadn't expected this kid, who had been competing with him for so long, to come up with such an outlandish idea.

"Wait, you mean…"

Tony gave a knowing smirk, thinking he'd figured it out.

He knew exactly what kind of person Anton was.

While not entirely useless, he certainly didn't have any standout talents—other than the life skills of flaunting wealth and picking up girls, second only to his own.

"Why do you care what I want to do?"

Anton rolled his eyes.

Unknowingly, his comment had actually matched Tony's assumptions.

They exchanged a look.

Anton caught a hint of eagerness in Tony's eyes.

"This guy's really up for anything!"

Anton's thoughts whirled, and he smiled, "So, Tony Stark, interested in joining in?"

"How do we play?"

Tony's face remained neutral, but Anton could tell he was intrigued.

It's often said that the person who knows you best isn't your friend but your opponent.

The original Anton had known Tony for a while and had frequently been on the losing end, so he had a clear understanding of Tony's showboating personality.

"A hundred million investment, fifty million each, and we bet on the box office."

Anton crossed his arms, staring confidently at Tony Stark. "If I win, the victory's mine. If I lose, I'll be your lackey, carrying your bags and calling you 'Daddy.'"

"Even though I know you're just trying to scam me, why not!"

Tony burst into laughter. "A mere fifty million? I'll play along, Anton. I'm looking forward to having you as my bag-carrying lackey."

Then he added, "But I never make a deal without conditions!"

"Name it," Anton said confidently.

"There has to be a clause!"

Tony looked Anton up and down. "The box office return rate has to be over 50%, or else you still lose."

"No problem."

Anton agreed instantly, then asked, "And if I win?"

"If you win, all profits from the movie, including the original investment, are yours. I won't take a penny," Tony said confidently. "And, I'll throw a party in Los Angeles in your name—all the girls are yours!"

"Deal!"

Anton smiled.