Stanley had originally dived into the river to "save someone" after mistaking a floating pile of trash for a drowning person, and that was when he accidentally stumbled upon Loki's Mask of Mischief.
What he didn't know was that this magical mask would "come alive" at night.
Right now, having slept in, he still believed that his heroic beatdown of the street thugs and his subsequent bank "robbery" were all just a wild dream.
As mentioned before, the mask possessed the power to bewitch the mind. It completely stripped away the repressed, timid nature of the perpetually agreeable Stanley, allowing his true, uninhibited self to run rampant and act incredibly "arrogant."
What an amazing dream!
Just waking up, Stanley couldn't help but smile as he remembered the incredibly satisfying and cathartic events of his "dream."
He then curiously rubbed the bizarre mask sitting next to his pillow, which he had brought back as a strange souvenir.
When a person's mind is repressed for too long without any outlet for release, negative emotions constantly build up. Over time, that tightly wound tension is bound to snap.
For Stanley, this mask acted as the ultimate release valve, allowing him to fully and unrestrainedly "vent" all the negative emotions he had accumulated in his miserable real life through his "dreams."
However, as a cheerful Stanley opened his closet to get dressed, a massive avalanche of US dollars came tumbling out.
Staring at nearly a hundred million dollars in cold, hard cash, Stanley's brain practically short-circuited.
It was only then that he realized everything that happened last night wasn't a dream after all.
Knock, knock... knock...
Right at that moment, a knocking sound came from the door.
Consumed by a guilty conscience, Stanley frantically scooped up the scattered bills and shoved them back into the closet, hastily slamming the door shut.
Still feeling paranoid, he grabbed the magical mask and shoved it under his pillow.
Only after doing all this did he force himself to put on a brave face, walk over to the door, and ask, "Who is it?"
"FBI. We suspect you may be connected to a recent bank robbery. Please open the door and submit to an inspection~"
Detective Lieutenant Kellaway's voice came through the door.
"I-I don't know anything about a robbery!!"
Hearing that the cops were at his door, Stanley's legs turned to jelly from sheer terror.
But knowing he couldn't hide forever, he reluctantly opened the door.
"Excuse me, do you recognize this piece of a tie?"
Lieutenant Kellaway got straight to business, holding up a piece of evidence.
The half-shredded, incredibly gaudy tie in his hand was the exact type of accessory that accompanied a zoot suit—a flashy style popularized in the 1940s.
A zoot suit typically featured high-waisted, wide-legged, tight-cuffed peg trousers, and a long coat with wide lapels and heavily padded shoulders.
Anyone who owned an outfit so perfectly suited for a theatrical stage performance was undoubtedly secretly flamboyant at heart.
"This..."
Looking at the familiar half-tie in the detective's hand, Stanley's palms started sweating profusely from nerves.
Suddenly, a "brilliant idea" struck him, and he exaggeratedly exclaimed,
"Oh, thank goodness! Did you finally catch the guy who stole my clothes? I just had a vintage suit stolen last night~"
What Stanley probably didn't realize was that whenever he lied, his eyes involuntarily darted to the right, and his body language became incredibly twitchy.
"So, you admit this piece of a tie belongs to you."
The highly experienced Lieutenant Kellaway wasn't fooled in the slightest. With a stern expression, he declared,
"My apologies, but to help clear you of suspicion, we're going to need to search your apartment!"
Loki's Mask of Mischief possessed immense magical power at night, but during the day, its abilities were suppressed to an absolute minimum.
Therefore, right now, it couldn't do anything to help Stanley out of his current predicament.
Following Kellaway's lead, a group of detectives forcefully entered Stanley's small apartment.
It was a textbook bachelor pad: cramped space with junk thrown everywhere.
Trailing behind the detectives, Mike had kept his eyes locked on Stanley ever since the door opened. But even after all this time, the guy hadn't dropped a single trait orb.
This confirmed that the "magic" resided entirely within the mask itself, not the person who possessed it.
Following his instincts, Mike bypassed the crowd and walked straight toward the single bed by the window.
Meanwhile, Kellaway and his detectives headed straight for the most obvious hiding spot in the room: the closet.
Watching his "secrets" about to be exposed on two fronts, Stanley looked back and forth in a sheer panic, teetering right on the edge of a total mental breakdown.
Whoosh~
Sensing an anomaly on the bed, Mike instantly threw the heavy quilt aside and flipped the pillow. But to his disappointment, there was absolutely nothing there.
Clearly, the mischievous mask didn't want to be found right now.
Watching Mike from the corner of his eye, Stanley's heart nearly leaped out of his chest when Mike flipped the pillow.
But when he saw there was nothing underneath, relief washed over his face as he realized he had survived a false alarm.
However, the crisis wasn't over yet.
On the other side of the room, Lieutenant Kellaway had already grabbed the handles of the closet, ready to pull the doors open.
Instantly, the cold sweat returned to Stanley's forehead.
...
Right at that exact moment, an elderly woman wearing an oversized, frumpy housecoat appeared in the doorway.
"Stanley! I told you a million times not to bring strangers into my building!!!"
The old woman, who had a comically large nose and a face full of wrinkles, spoke with a sharp, incredibly shrill tone.
Her sudden screeching caused Lieutenant Kellaway to freeze in his tracks.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Peenman~"
Dodging a bullet for the second time, Stanley had never thought his miserable landlady looked so beautiful.
He forced a sycophantic smile and quickly explained, "They're from the FBI. They're here investigating a bank robbery, they're not here to cause trouble."
"I don't care if they're the FBI or the Queen of England..."
Mrs. Peenman, who made up for her short stature with overwhelming aggressive energy, marched right up to Kellaway, identifying him as the leader.
"Don't think I don't know my rights! You barged into my property without permission. Where is your search warrant?"
Stared down by the fierce old woman, Lieutenant Kellaway replied helplessly,
"Because of the severe nature of the bank robbery, the search warrant is still being processed. If you'd like to see it, I'll have someone deliver a copy to you tomorrow."
The Broadway district was undeniably one of the wealthiest areas in the Big Apple.
A bank robbery occurring here had massive repercussions.
Therefore, to quickly pacify the public, Kellaway had been ordered to crack the case within three days.
Tight deadline, heavy pressure.
Under these circumstances, if Kellaway wanted to solve the case quickly, strictly following normal procedures simply wouldn't cut it.
"No warrant? Then get the hell out of my building~"
Mrs. Peenman suddenly whipped her hand out from behind her back, revealing a long-barreled shotgun. With a fierce glare, she shouted,
"Don't think I'm just some senile old bat! I spent my youth down in Florida!!"
It was a blatant, naked threat~
But it was also a perfect counter.
In America, if someone enters a private residence without permission or a warrant, the property owner has the absolute right to "self-defense."
Mrs. Peenman might have a terrible attitude, but legally speaking, her demand was completely justified.
...
A few minutes later, having been effectively chased out of the building by a shotgun-wielding old lady, Lieutenant Kellaway stood on the sidewalk looking utterly defeated.
"Captain, we're heading over to the Broadway underground district to follow up on another lead. Would you care to join us?"
Having collected himself, the Lieutenant prepared to tackle the case from a different angle.
According to the bank's security footage, on the day of the robbery, there was another crew present besides the [Green-Faced Bandit].
Cross-referencing police databases, the identities of that crew matched known members of the Broadway underground syndicate.
If they could track down and arrest that gang, they could at least close the book on the bank robbery case and deliver some results.
"I won't get in your way. Best of luck."
Having confirmed that Stanley was indeed the [Mask] from his memories, Mike had no intention of wasting time running around chasing dead ends.
After parting ways with the FBI agents, Mike made a call to his John Wick trio on the drive back to his luxury mansion.
He ordered them to keep a close, 24/7 watch on Stanley for the next few days.
If the [Green-Faced Bandit] made a move, they were to notify him immediately.