Chapter 009: The World Exposition of Tomorrow
"Hey buddy, you clean up pretty good," Barnes joked with Mason.
Mason in the mirror had changed into a casual sports jacket, shaved his scruff, and looked significantly more presentable. Besides, he'd recently killed two men in combat, so his gaze was naturally harder than the average civilian's, giving him an unforgettable intensity.
"How do I look?" Steve's voice came from behind. The two turned to see Steve emerging from the washroom, smoothing his damp hair.
The clothes hung loose on his frame, making him look like a kid playing dress-up, and his face was swollen with dark bruises under his eyes, making him look pretty rough.
"Oh, you look swell. You'd look even better if you took those grapefruits off your eyes," Barnes wisecracked.
"Okay, let's go." Mason stepped forward, threw his arm around Steve's shoulder, and they headed out.
"Mason, hold up, here!" Barnes casually tossed a white object into Mason's hand.
It was a pair of white gloves.
"What's this for?" Mason asked, confused.
Barnes pointed to the tattoo on Mason's left hand. "Trust me, pal. Dames don't go for guys with ink on their hands."
Mason wanted to refuse, but then he considered how conspicuous the mark looked and decided to wear them. However, he only wore one glove, figuring if anyone asked, he could claim he'd injured that hand.
"Alright, let's roll!" With everything ready, Barnes took the lead and headed outside.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
Colorful fireworks painted the night sky, and the streets near the Expo were absolutely packed. Fashionably dressed young men and women strolled by hand in hand, laughing and flirting, showing no trace of wartime anxiety.
"This really is a living, breathing world."
Looking at the cheerful faces, Mason felt a pang of emotion. He'd once hoped that everything he'd experienced was just a nightmare, but the repeated jolts awake in the middle of the night and the lingering pain from his injuries were constant reminders of reality.
"Let me introduce you to these two lovely ladies." Barnes' voice interrupted Mason's thoughts.
"This is Bonnie, and this is Connie," Barnes introduced the two women—one brunette, one blonde—to Mason and Steve.
Bonnie had jet-black hair and bright eyes, with a slender figure, but her dimples when she smiled were absolutely charming. Her gaze toward Barnes was clearly smitten, so she was obviously spoken for.
Mason, however, was more interested in the other girl, Connie. She had platinum blonde hair styled in the popular victory rolls of the era. He found himself automatically checking her out, his gaze drifting downward appreciatively.
Damn, those curves. The girl wasn't classically beautiful—her features were somewhat sharp—but they were actually quite striking. Most importantly, her figure, subtly revealed beneath her fashionable dress, was incredibly voluptuous by 1940s standards.
She must be a rather confident woman, which probably explained her lack of interest in the scrawny Steve in the movie. Sure enough, after listening to Barnes's introduction, she completely ignored Steve and frequently directed her attention toward Mason.
Mason, having lived through three different worlds, wasn't about to turn away an attractive woman showing interest. His knowledge and experience were unmatched, and his natural charisma made conversation easy. Before long, he was already quite close with the girl named Connie.
Steve was left trailing behind the two couples, looking decidedly like a fifth wheel.
The World Exposition of Tomorrow covered a massive area, divided into various themed pavilions. The group chatted and laughed as they explored, quickly arriving at the "Modern Marvels" exhibition area. At that moment, a commotion erupted from a nearby stage.
"Oh my God! It's Howard Stark!" Bonnie and Connie exchanged excited glances, unable to hide their enthusiasm. "Let's go see!" they said, pulling their companions forward to push through the crowd.
Mason, unusually relaxed at this moment, didn't object and joined the flow of people.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won't even have to touch the ground at all?" On the exhibition stage, a dashing man in an impeccably tailored suit was speaking with practiced showmanship.
This man was Howard Stark, founder of Stark Industries and future father of Tony Stark—Iron Man himself. He was clearly a celebrity; young women and even married ladies in the audience frequently called out his name, their cheeks flushed with excitement.
Seeing his swagger, Mason understood exactly where Tony Stark had inherited his playboy tendencies—like father, like son.
"Mason, do you really think that's possible?" Connie wrapped her arm around Mason's, her curves pressing against him deliberately. This made Mason, who hadn't been with a woman in months, feel a surge of arousal.
He swallowed hard, barely managing to compose himself. "Not a chance. Even fifty years from now, anti-gravity cars won't be commercially viable," Mason said without hesitation.
He certainly had the authority to speak on this. As someone who'd lived in a cyberpunk future, he knew that even decades from now, flying cars remained experimental at best.
After a whole evening of casual conversation, Mason had successfully established himself as educated and worldly within the small group. This came easily to him; since they were in the technology exhibition hall, he could offer informed opinions on various displays, often concise and insightful.
"Anti-gravity technology involves too many branches of physics and engineering. With current technological limitations, the problems that need solving are virtually insurmountable. This isn't something that'll be cracked in the near future," Mason explained.
Hearing his words, the two women nodded as if they understood, their expectations for Howard's demonstration diminishing slightly.
"BZZZZT!" Sure enough, accompanied by a crackling electrical discharge, sparks erupted from the car's repulsor plates before it crashed back down onto the stage. Although it failed, the audience still gave enthusiastic encouragement, applauding loudly.
"Mason, you're so smart!" Connie's supple body was practically molded against Mason's, her eyes gazing at him with obvious desire. Mason's pulse quickened; he sensed that with just a little more effort, he could probably take this girl home tonight.
While America in 1942 wasn't as sexually liberated as it would become in later decades, it was still wartime, and people had a certain "live for today" mentality. Just as Mason was about to extend a private invitation, a glance over his shoulder revealed that Steve, who'd been trailing behind them, was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Steve? Has anyone seen him?"
Just then, a commotion erupted from the makeshift recruitment booth in the distance, and several MPs emerged, surrounding a thin, short man.
"What's going on?" someone asked from up ahead.
"I heard somebody falsified their enlistment papers and got pinched!"
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