Superman

"It's boring..."

Howard, who stayed at the Flamengo Hotel owned by the Mafia, had been having fun for a whole week and slumped on the sofa, his eyes seemed to be out of focus, looking bored.

I'm tired of games like Baccarat and Texas Hold'em.

The alpine ski resort is under construction. When I have nothing to do, I usually play golf.

I soak in the natural hot springs almost every night. Lying in the hot spring pool, which is large enough to accommodate hundreds of people, overlooking Las Vegas below, it is simply an imperial level of enjoyment.

And there are beautiful women who rub their backs and water them.

It sounds like a comfortable life in heaven, but for Howard, who likes the new and gets tired of the old very quickly, he has no interest after experiencing it a few times.

Even if the Mafia leader Alessandro has hinted intentionally or unintentionally, the reception girls, sexy dealers and waitresses in the hotel can all come to serve you.

But Howard, who had entered the time of the sage, did not go along with the situation and engage in prostitution for free, but rejected such illegal behavior with righteous words.

Okay, here's why.

In fact, it was because when he arrived in Las Vegas on the first day, he did a lot of exercise and overtaxed his body.

Nevada is the only place in the United States where sex is allowed and considered legal.

A playboy like Howard has only been here for a few days and has already run out of ammunition and food, and is beyond his capabilities.

"No wonder it is said to be a paradise for the rich. You can do whatever you want here!"

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

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

For men, going out to have fun must be in a team to have fun.

If you are alone, your interest will be automatically halved.

"We clearly agreed to avoid the White House, and the Pentagon gang helped Captain Rogers prepare his bachelor party, but in the end we still had to talk about work."

Howard complained.

In the first two days after Luke arrived in Las Vegas, he did experience the local customs and customs.

Not only did he set a record of winning forty-three games of blackjack in the hotel's casino, but he also played other types of games.

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

These gameplay methods developed by humans are not difficult for Luke.

So just soak it in for a brief moment.

He pulled away and returned to work.

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

The U.S. Department of Energy established the Nevada Test Site in the southeastern desert of Nye County, where the military has conducted more than 900 nuclear explosions.

This also attracted a large number of "nuclear explosion tourists". The atomic bomb became popular in Nevada and instantly became a fashion.

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

Anyway, since they are here, Luke naturally has to go to various military bases to visit and express condolences as a war hero.

So, he left Howard in the hotel.

"This is a rare vacation. How could I just stay in a hotel room and waste time."

After squinting his eyes and sleeping for a while, Howard touched his mustache and decided to go out to have some fun.

Even playing golf or going to a hot spring for a while will do.

Staying in his room is not his style.

"Is there anything worth visiting nearby?"

Howard, who put on a brand new high-end suit and sprayed some cologne to look more like a slut, caught a glimpse of the waiter responsible for running the elevator up and down.

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

The waiter pocketed the tip and pointed in the direction.

“Hell Hotel…”

Howard muttered.

The name seems interesting.

"A corrupt soul like mine deserves to go to hell."

Howard picked up a glass of champagne and 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. Waiting in line calmly was not what he should do.

"Hey, man, if you're willing to give up your spot to me, then these are all yours."

Using money to pave the way is always one of the best ways to solve problems.

Unsurprisingly, Howard came to the front of the line. The two security guards guarding the door glanced at him and stamped their arms with a seal depicting a ram-horned devil.

"go in."

The security guard said gruffly.

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

He sniffed and frowned slightly.

"It feels like there is a smell of sulfur."

Howard thought to himself.

But his attention was quickly attracted by the decoration inside the Hell Hotel.

The dark red color fills every corner of your sight.

Soft carpet, emitting slight heat.

There is also a faint flow of light, like lava.

The walls are carved with various horrifying and weird patterns, and waiters dressed like devils shuttle back and forth.

“It’s really strange for a hotel to use hell as its theme.”

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

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

Said the waiter with curved horns on his head and an aquiline nose.

He rejected the check signed by Howard and the money he took out of his wallet.

"Then what do you charge here?"

Howard asked curiously with the corners of his mouth raised.

"Soul. In the Hell Hotel, you exchange your soul for chips. There is a place to weigh the weight of your soul."

The waiter answered sternly.

"Pretending to be something 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.

"Exchanging my soul for chips? What if my soul cannot be exchanged for enough chips, or I lose all my chips and still want to continue playing the game?"

Howard crossed his arms, like a deliberately difficult guest.

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

The waiter looked expressionless and took out a stack of thick documents.

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

Howard just glanced at it. The dense English words were enough to give a headache.

He curled his lips, randomly pulled out a pledge contract with an unknown term, and signed his name.

A blazing light flashed in the waiter's dark eyes.

He coded out several piles of chips with different denominations, put them neatly on a tray, and handed them to Howard with both hands.

"Welcome to the Hell Hotel, wish you a pleasant stay."