The blue Lamborghini sports car pulled a graceful curve, driving past the Arc de Triomphe square and onto the bustling main street.
Looking at the traffic, Fisher had to admit his choice was correct; the Lamborghini was indeed much more understated, at least there were no arrogant armored vehicles rampaging through the streets of Paris.
As the car turned onto Avenue Kléber, the Peninsula Hotel was within sight.
Fisher parked the car at the hotel entrance, where a doorman in a top hat came forward to greet him.
"Welcome to Paris!"
After receiving the keys from Fisher, the doorman carefully drove the sports car away from the entrance towards the parking lot.
Meanwhile, Fisher, leading Prescott, walked into the hotel lobby.
The reception staff, who had confirmed Fisher's identity early, were already waiting in the hall and greeted him as soon as he entered.
"Mr. Fisher, I presume? I am Camille Charlotte, your private butler assigned by the hotel.
I will be at your service during your stay in Paris.
I hope you have a pleasant trip!"
The lobby manager, speaking fluent English, bowed slightly with a professional smile, her business attire revealing a deep cleavage.
"Hello, Ms. Charlotte.
Could you please take me to my suite? I've been on a plane for several hours and I'm a bit tired!"
Fisher's attention wasn't on her at all; he was genuinely hungry at the moment, and coupled with the fact that the C-17 pilot used to fly White Swans, he hadn't rested well on the journey.
"Book the suite for a month first, and bring me a glass of ice water now!
Then prepare some food and send it to the room!"
Fisher pulled out his credit card and handed it to her.
"Please wait a moment!"
Camille nodded, then turned and walked towards the lobby bar to get the room card, while Fisher, leading Prescott, walked to a nearby seating area.
It was evening, and many people were enjoying coffee and desserts in the lounge.
As a hotel that values privacy, the Peninsula Hotel's lounge areas had large gaps between partitions and dim lighting.
In the center of the lounge, there was a long water feature, with water flowing from the pool into specially designed pipes beside it, then disappearing beneath the floor.
"Woof! Woof!"
Seeing the water feature, Prescott seemed very excited.
"Want to play? Go ahead!"
Fisher chuckled, rubbed the dog's head, then untied the leash, letting the dog go play in the water by himself.
The sleek, shiny German Shepherd sprinted a hundred meters and jumped into the pool, splashing and playing, drawing the attention of many people with its antics.
"Excuse me, sir, your dog is playing in the water..."
A young man with a manager badge on his chest approached.
Although his words were a polite dissuasion, his tone was somewhat sarcastic.
"What's wrong? Isn't this water feature here for playing?"
Fisher picked up a sugar cube and put it into the freshly delivered coffee.
"No, this water feature is for decoration.
Our guests here are all high-class individuals, and allowing your pet to behave this way will cause us a lot of trouble!"
"High-class individuals?"
Fisher scanned the surrounding onlookers, noticing many were simply watching the drama unfold.
"Alright!"
Fisher pulled out his checkbook from his pocket, tore off a page, and began writing.
"Sir, this isn't something that can be solved with a tip!"
Watching Fisher's actions, the French manager sneered inwardly, thinking these American upstarts really lacked class.
"No, it's not a tip!"
Fisher finished writing the last zero, then stood up and tossed the check into the manager's hand.
"I'm buying this hotel, and then I'm setting a new rule: you can play in the water feature!"
"This!"
The manager stared at the string of zeros on the check, momentarily at a loss.
He looked at Fisher, only to find that the latter had already shed his several-thousand-dollar custom suit and, without a care, jumped into the water feature to play with Prescott.
Fisher's lavish display truly startled everyone present.
The guests who had been waiting to see Fisher embarrassed now perked up their ears, waiting to see how the situation would unfold.
"Excuse me, Mr. Fisher, your room is ready!"
At the crucial moment, Camille, the private butler assigned to Fisher by the hotel, walked over, returned Fisher's credit card, and then shot a glare at her bewildered colleague behind her.
"I apologize for the inconvenience.
Regarding today's incident, the hotel will give you a satisfactory answer.
Also, you and your pet are welcome to play here anytime!"
It has to be said, both being at a manager level, the difference between Camille and the other person was evident.
"Good! But I'm still buying the hotel!
The Peninsula Hotel doesn't sound good; let's rename it Atlas!"
Fisher pulled the dripping dog out of the water and followed Camille into the elevator without looking back.
"You've only been in Paris for less than three hours, and you've already bought a hotel and set a new rule!
Are you serious?"
Fisher had just laid down on the bed, ready for a good sleep after a shower, when Kate's call came through.
"Yeah, this hotel seems pretty good.
It has a beautiful environment and first-class facilities, but the people are a bit naive.
I bought it as a company perk!"
Fisher checked the time.
Hmm, he could still sleep for an hour and a half.
"Employee benefits?
With a boss like you, I'm truly grateful!
You overspent a seven-figure sum buying that hotel.
Wouldn't it be better to use that money for bonuses?"
"Uh, Kate, money is only money when it's flowing.
What's the point of just saving it?"
"Alright, you rest.
I'll take care of the follow-up!"
Kate rolled her eyes at his words, then hung up the phone.
Fisher also breathed a sigh of relief, buried his head under the pillow, and comfortably drifted off to sleep.
Waking up refreshed, Fisher, shirtless and wrapped in a bathrobe, walked out of the bedroom to find Camille squatting on the floor, feeding Prescott nutritional paste.
The dog's big, watery eyes looked quite lethal.
"You fell for it!"
Seeing Camille about to open another tube of nutritional paste, Fisher couldn't help but interrupt, "This guy always pulls this trick when he's trying to get snacks from my mom!"
"Ah, Mr. Fisher!"
Camille quickly stood up upon hearing the voice.
"I apologize, I came to bring your clothes.
Your previous suit has already been sent for dry cleaning, and I will personally deliver it to you once it's ready.
Also, here are your car keys!"
"Alright, thank you!"
Fisher nodded, then took the change of clothes from the sofa and went back into the bedroom.
"Do you need my help?"
"No, thank you!"
Fisher knew exactly what she was after.
He didn't particularly like women who approached him with such strong ulterior motives, because once problems arose, it would be very troublesome.
Justin Hammer was a perfect example.
Justin Hammer and Tony Stark could be considered the two biggest playboy arms dealers in America.
Of course, Stark was driven by nature, while Justin simply wanted to compete with him.
For example, Stark liked magazine cover girls, while Justin preferred Hollywood movie stars.
And so, problems arose.
Stark's cover girls could be handled by Pepper, and sometimes those women were simply satisfied with touching Stark's sexy chest, wanting nothing else.
But the women Justin pursued always led him to make various empty promises, such as money and fame.
However, his stingy nature meant he genuinely wasn't willing to spend millions on a one-night stand, leading to frequent legal battles with the actresses he had taken advantage of.
New York tabloids even wrote a joke about it: Stark Industries' legal department fought piracy, while Hammer Industries' legal department fought New York's third industry.
They also said Justin Hammer had the largest legal team in America, but it was only used to salvage his bad reputation among actresses.
Camille's deliberate flattery of Fisher was simply to advance her career at the hotel.
Fisher didn't mind helping her get a promotion, but sleeping together was out of the question; sleeping with the dog was far more fun than with a woman.
"So, do you need me to order dinner for you?"
"No, it's alright.
I might not be back tonight, but perhaps you could prepare breakfast for me!"
Fisher, fully dressed, picked up his car keys and was about to leave.
"Uh, Mr. Fisher, if you need to tour the sights of Paris, I can serve as your guide or the hotel can arrange it.
We also offer shopping membership cards and chauffeured transportation!"
"No, thank you.
I'm just going to handle some personal business.
My sightseeing in Paris will have to be scheduled later!"
Leaving the somewhat disappointed private butler behind, Fisher drove straight to the safe house.
He had four hours until the auction, and he needed to arrange his backup plan!
The safe house set up by Cormack was beneath a noisy bar.
The owner was also a member of Atlas.
Having lost an arm in combat, he chose to retire after receiving a prosthetic limb surgery and returned to his hometown to open a bar.
"Boss, welcome to Paris!"
Seeing Fisher enter, the bar owner was especially surprised.
He left his drinking and boasting companions aside and led Fisher into the bar's backyard.
"They're in the wine cellar.
I'll keep an eye out front!"
"Alright, thank you for your hard work!"
Fisher highly valued such veterans.
Should Atlas one day decide to rebuild world order, they would be very qualified guides and covert agents.
Therefore, Atlas tried its best to provide them with the best welfare and future treatment.
After the owner left, Fisher pulled open the wine cellar door and slowly descended the wooden steps.
Rows of huge oak barrels came into view, and there was a faint aroma of malt in the air.
At the very back of the cellar, a long table was set up, and the action team members were currently gathered around it, eating a simple dinner.
"Looks like the food's good!"
Although the tableware and environment were a bit rudimentary, the food on the table was not: fillet mignon, seafood pasta, and crispy fried pork ribs and beef tongue.
The sight made Fisher's stomach rumble.
"If it's good, have some!"
Prophet moved his stool aside, inviting Fisher to sit down, then pulled another chair and sat beside Fisher.
"It's probably not as good as what you usually eat, don't mind it, Boss!"
Gunner handed Fisher a plate full of food, looking a bit embarrassed.
"I usually don't eat this well, so why would I mind?
If you don't believe me, ask Prophet, he knows!"
Fisher didn't stand on ceremony, took a fork, and stuffed a mouthful of noodles and steak into his mouth.
"I can vouch for that!"
Prophet nodded.
He and Fisher had known each other since their army days, so he naturally understood Fisher's usual circumstances.
"By the way, why did you secretly call us here?
What are you planning to do?"
After finishing the food in front of him, Prophet poured Fisher a glass of freshly squeezed juice, asking curiously.
"I'm going to an auction later and need to get my hands on an item.
You guys are my backup.
If we successfully bid for it, you're responsible for getting it back to the base in Iraq.
If we don't win the bid, we'll just take it!"
"Can you tell us what it is?
Is it that important?"
Ruin asked, looking puzzled.
"Vibranium!"
"Vibranium?
What's that?"
Aias, the youngest, expressed his confusion.
"A rare metal, even rarer than gold!"
Prophet explained to the others.
"Yes, this metal is crucial for the development of our aerospace force.
I called you here to ensure everything goes smoothly.
Any other questions?"
Fisher looked around, asking.
"What about the enemies we might encounter?"
Scout raised his hand.
"Are we allowed to use lethal force?"
"The enemies might only be light infantry, but we can't rule out the possibility of them having heavy armor.
I've prepared expert exoskeletons for you, which should handle that.
As for lethal force, you absolutely must not use it unless your life is in danger, understood?"
"Understood!"
"Good, here are the satellite map and environmental 3D views of the auction location.
Prophet, it's in your hands!"
Fisher patted his shoulder.
"Of course, leave it to me.
Oh, by the way, what about your safety?
Why don't you take Ruin with you?
That kid is a good fighter; if a fight breaks out, four or five guys won't be able to get near him.
You only have John and two bodyguards on your side, and it would be troublesome if something went wrong!"
Prophet offered his opinion.
"It's fine!
You forgot, I'm also from the Marine Expeditionary Force, and tonight's focus is on the vibranium, not me.
If something goes wrong, the enemies will only come for the vibranium, understood?"
"Alright, then keep communications open tonight, and call if anything happens!"
"Of course!"
Fisher had a high regard for Prophet.
Although he had some African-American heritage, his demeanor was more like that of an Englishman: calm, decisive, and thoughtful.
He had never failed a mission he undertook.
An hour later.
"Alright, everyone, check your weapons, we're ready to go!"
Four thousand, four thousand, time to sleep.