A Chance Of 40 Days

Prologue

The night was calm, with the moon casting a soft, silvery glow over the small town.

It was the kind of night where most folks were winding down, enjoying the quiet after a long day. Inside the local coffee shop, the warm light spilling through the windows contrasted with the cool, serene darkness outside.

The atmosphere inside the coffee shop was completely peaceful.

It was 8 PM, and as usual, the townsfolk had gathered there to enjoy their nightly coffee, discussing their day-to-day lives.

Tonight was no different. The place was filled with people, chatting and unwinding.

It was 8 PM, and as usual, the townsfolk had gathered there to enjoy their nightly coffee, discussing their day-to-day lives.

Tonight was no different. The place was filled with people, chatting and unwinding.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a gunshot echoed through the air. Everyone froze, startled, and began looking around to see where the sound had come from.

While this wasn't an entirely unusual occurrence-being a town surrounded by dense forests, wild animals would sometimes stray into the town, causing trouble-tonight's shot seemed different.

The town sheriff had long since given the residents permission to keep guns for their protection, a necessity given the frequent animal incursions.

Moreover, most of the people living in this town were descendants of World War II soldiers.

It was no surprise that they weren't about to let go of the weapons passed down to them from their ancestors.

It was common to find old World War II firearms displayed on the walls of living rooms or stored in cabinets.

So, while the sound of a gunshot wasn't entirely shocking, it still had everyone on edge, wondering what might have happened this time.

Suddenly, a panicked and frantic voice echoed through the night.

Someone was shouting, "This old man's gone completely crazy! Somebody help! Help!"

The voice was clearly that of a man, but who could it be? The townspeople inside the coffee shop were bewildered, their curiosity piqued.

Then, just as they were trying to figure out what was happening, they saw the source of the commotion. A man came sprinting past the window, running like his life depended on it.

He was dressed in a sharp, expensive suit, the kind that screamed wealth and status, but at that moment, he looked anything but composed.

His perfectly styled hair was now disheveled, and sweat was dripping down his face as he bolted down the street.

It was none other than Tony Stark, the infamous billionaire with a reputation for getting into all sorts of trouble.

And right now, he was running as if he was about to be on the wrong end of a shotgun-literally.

Tony's voice rang out again, more desperate this time, "Seriously, is anyone out there? Somebody please stop this lunatic before I end up as a headliner on tomorrow's news!"