Marvel’s Superman

"It's boring..."

Staying in the Flamingo Hotel under the name of the Mafia, Howard, who had been indulging and playing for a week, slumped on the sofa, his eyes seemed to be out of focus, and he looked bored.

Baccarat, Texas Hold'em and other games are tired.

The alpine ski resort is under construction, and I can play golf at most when I have nothing to do.

The natural hot springs are soaked almost every night. Lying in a hot spring pool large enough to accommodate hundreds of people, looking down at Las Vegas below, is simply an emperor-level enjoyment.

And there are beauties who rub their backs and water them.

It sounds like a comfortable day like heaven, but for Howard, who loves the new and hates the old very fast, he has no interest in experiencing it a few times.

Even if Alessandro, the head of the mafia, has hinted, intentionally or unintentionally, the receptionist, sexy dealer and waitress in the hotel can come to serve.

But Howard, who entered the time of the sage, did not go with the flow and wantonly prostitutes, but rejected such illegal acts with righteous words.

Well, why is it so.

In fact, it was because when he arrived in Las Vegas on the first day, he performed multi-player sports and overtaxed his body.

Nevada is the only place in the United States where sex trafficking is permitted and legal.

Playboys like Howard are out of ammunition and food after just a few days.

"No wonder it's a paradise for the rich, you can do whatever you want here!"

Howard slumped on the sofa and took a sip of juice.

He was so bored because Luke wasn't fooling around with him.

For men, it must be fun to go out in a team.

If you are alone, your interest is automatically halved.

"Mentally agreed to avoid the White House, the gang from the Pentagon, and help Captain Rogers prepare the bachelorette party, but they still have to talk about work."

Howard complained.

Two days before Luke arrived in Las Vegas, he did experience the local customs.

Not only in the hotel casino, but also set a record of winning forty-three "blackjack" in a row, and then played other types of games over and over again.

Poker, dice, points, odd and even, roulette...

These human-developed gameplays are not difficult for Luke.

So just immerse yourself briefly.

He pulled away and went back to work.

Nevada is not only the casino city of Las Vegas, but also a national security zone.

The U.S. Department of Energy has set up the Nevada Proving Ground in the desert southeast of Nye County, where the military has conducted more than 900 nuclear explosions.

This also attracted a large number of "nuclear explosion tourists", and the atomic bomb swept Nevada and instantly became fashionable.

There are many "Miss Atomic Bombs" in Las Vegas - beautiful girls in mushroom cloud bikinis, which are a major feature.

Anyway, he has come. Luke naturally wants to go to various military bases to visit and condolence as a war hero.

So, he left Howard in the hotel.

"It's a rare vacation, how can I just waste time in a hotel room like this."

Howard, who narrowed his eyes and slept for a while, stroked his mustache and decided to go out to have some fun.

Even play a round of golf, or go to the hot springs for a while.

Staying in a room is not his style.

"Is there anything worth visiting nearby?"

Putting on a brand new high-end suit, spraying some cologne, dressing himself more like a sassy Howard, and caught a glimpse of the waiter in charge of running the elevator up and down.

"Sir, there is a newly opened 'Hell Hotel' two streets away from the hotel. I heard that it is very interesting."

The waiter pocketed the tip and gave directions.

"Hell Hotel..."

Howard muttered.

The name seems interesting.

"A fallen soul like me should go to hell."

Howard, who picked up a glass of champagne, said to himself.

He followed the direction given by the waiter and soon saw the newly opened "Hell Hotel".

"Wow, the atmosphere is hot, and there is a long queue."

Howard raised his eyebrows, it wasn't his job to wait in line.

"Hey man, if you're willing to give me your place, it's all yours."

Opening the road with money is always one of the best ways to solve a problem.

Howard came to the front unsurprisingly, and the two security guards guarding the door glanced at him and stamped the seal of the shofar demon on his arm.

"go in."

The security guard said gruffly.

Howard walked through the door gracefully with one hand in his pocket.

He sniffed and frowned slightly.

"It felt like there was a smell of sulfur."

Howard thought to himself.

It's just that his attention was quickly attracted by the decorations in the Hell Hotel.

The dark red color fills every corner of the line of sight.

Soft carpet that emits light heat.

There are also looming rays of light flowing, like magma.

All kinds of scary and weird patterns are carved on the walls, and there are waiters dressed as demons and devils who shuttle back and forth.

"Having a hell-themed hotel, it's really rare."

Howard became interested and walked to the front desk where the chips were exchanged.

"Sir, we don't accept checks and cash here."

With curved horns protruding from the top of his head, the waiter with a hooked nose said so.

He rejected Howard's signed cheques and the bills he had pulled from his wallet.

"Then what do you get here?"

Howard raised the corners of his mouth and asked curiously.

"Soul. The Hell Hotel trades souls for chips, and there is a place to weigh your soul."

The waiter answered in a straightforward manner.

"It's kind of like that."

Howard looked in the direction pointed by the waiter, and there was indeed a huge scale not far away.

Many guests who entered the hotel stood on it, waiting for the final result.

"Soul exchange for chips? What if my soul can't exchange enough chips, or if I lose all my chips, I still want to continue the game?"

Howard folded his arms, like a deliberate guest.

"You can sign a contract to mortgage your soul forever in the Hell Hotel."

The waiter was expressionless and took out a stack of thick papers.

"We have short-term pledge contracts of ten years, thirty years, fifty years and one hundred years, and long-term pledge contracts of two hundred to one thousand years."

Howard just glanced at it, the dense English words are enough to give people a headache.

He pouted, took out a pledge contract of unknown duration, and signed his name.

In the dark eyes of the waiter, a fiery light flashed.

He piled up stacks of chips of different denominations, packed them neatly on a tray, and handed them to Howard with both hands.

"Welcome to Hell Hotel and have a great time."