157. Count Nefaria.

Rock Springs' bar was a haven for thieves and thugs. Unlike the territories under the control of the Red Skull, this place had a relatively peaceful atmosphere. Ever since the great Mafia Nefaria family took over, the gangsters here surprisingly began to govern the land with mercy.

There were no gang fights, no killings for fun. The ordinary residents living here had self-sufficiency and a peaceful life. Although taxes were high and thieves were plenty, they didn't have to worry about losing their lives. The Nefaria family prohibited all residents from leaving, but they were very polite to outsiders. It was said that many foreign gangs traded weapons with the Nefaria family, including Hydra.

Speaking of the Nefaria family's rise, one person could not be ignored—Count Luchino Nefaria. The Count was a well-known figure back in the day, and any hero who could last two rounds with him was a leader among superheroes. He faced enemies from both the Avengers and the X-Men, and almost every famous hero had fought him at some point.

However, he was no longer a mafia boss. Slumped in a chair at the bar counter, Count Nefaria held a glass, his fingers constantly rubbing it as if there was dust that would never come off. The bartender was used to seeing this oddly dressed old man. He leaned at the bar's end, occasionally glancing at the Count, while others kept their distance, not out of fear but because they thought he was 'crazy.'

This old man, once the godfather of the Nefaria Mafia, had retired long ago—since the night all superheroes perished. People avoided him because he couldn't stop reminiscing about his glory days battling heroes, unable to move past those memories. Perhaps the night the heroes died, Count Nefaria's spirit died too. Now, he was a shadow of his former self, with no reason to continue living.

The bar was filled with the stench of bodies and alcohol. Compared to the inside of the Nefaria family's mansion, the environment here wasn't great, but it was the only place where the Count could lose himself in drunkenness. He knew most people here looked down on him, some even saw him as a clown, but only he knew how glorious his costume had been back in the day.

"You know nothing."

Count Nefaria muttered dreamily, staring into his drink. "Back in Los Angeles. People would tremble just hearing my name."

Gripping the glass tightly, the yellowish cheap liquor swirled inside. The Count looked at his reflection, seeing his old and haggard face, feeling a mix of emotions.

The bartender, unable to suppress a bitter smile, put down the shining glass he was polishing and turned to grab a bottle of strong liquor from the shelf. He knew the Count was about to start recounting his past again.

"Let's make a deal, Count. I'll give you a drink for free if you don't tell your stories, okay?" the bartender said with a forced smile, filling the Count's glass with strong liquor.

Every time the Count started to reminisce, the bartender would use this method to stop him. Over time, it became a tacit habit between them. But tonight, the wind direction in Rock Springs changed. The bar's door gently pushed open, and the bartender looked up to see three hooded figures entering.

Probably travelers from afar, the bartender thought. It was almost winter, and many foreign merchants sought refuge here. In the wasteland, only this place allowed those who couldn't control their fate to rest. Every winter was a calamity for ordinary people, as even the rats would starve in the farmers' empty warehouses after being looted by various gangs. This place was much better in comparison.

The three approached the bar, and the bartender quickly put the cloth on his shoulder and greeted them warmly. He knew these outsiders were usually wealthy, and whether he could make a fortune depended on his skills.

"How can I serve you?" he asked.

"Some food and your strongest drink," the leader said, pulling out a gold piece the size of a cup from his robe.

The bartender's eyes widened at the sight of the gold. He quickly pocketed it and took out three glasses, grabbing a bottle of liquor from a dusty cabinet.

"Warm up with this drink first. It won't disappoint you. I'll have the kitchen prepare some food," he said, filling the glasses and forcing a smile.

"I want a drink too!" Count Nefaria exclaimed, slamming his empty glass on the counter.

"This is my old customer. Don't mind him. He's drunk," the bartender apologized to the three, then turned to the Count. "Count, my salary can't cover such high-end drinks."

Count Nefaria frowned deeply at his words. Then, the man under the hood spoke again. "Give him a drink. It's on me."

The bartender blinked in surprise but quickly obliged. "Alright, as you wish."

Since someone else was paying, the bartender swiftly filled the Count's glass and turned to head into the kitchen. Staring at the blood-red liquor, Count Nefaria licked his cracked lips, then glanced at the three strangers beside him.

"Are you from out of town?" he asked.

"Sort of," the man replied.

"Do you find my outfit strange? Don't get me wrong, everyone thinks that way," Count Nefaria said, sipping his drink. "As a return for this drink, would you like to hear my story?"

...…..

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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158. Drunken Life and Dreams.

159. "Like Before".

160. The Final Chapter of Count Nefaria.

161. Dying at the Hands of 'Heroes'.

162. Bullseye's Log - Part One.