America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Chapter 131: Chapter 131: The Best Fighter



The red liquid splattered onto Martin and the nearby car.

Martin landed solidly, kicked the dummy, and, like a super psychopath, swung the bat again, hitting the dummy's head two more times.

Make sure to finish the job; never give the crazy psycho another chance to stand up.

Aga and Craven were also tired of that cliché in traditional American horror films where the protagonist never finishes off the villain in one go.

Martin's chest heaved rapidly, holding the bat in one hand as he walked towards a house, wiping the red liquid off his face with his arm as he moved.

It was as if he was a warrior with his face painted for battle.

Aga shouted, "Cut! That's a wrap for this scene!" He couldn't help but praise, "Martin, you were fantastic!"

Martin stopped in his tracks, standing still.

This Frenchman Aga, always full of romantic flair, exclaimed loudly, "Martin Davis, unleash the beast within you!"

Martin, now out of character, replied with a laugh, "Then everyone on the crew would be in danger."

Action director Walter joined in, "What, planning to kill us all?"

Martin pondered, "Why do I think that's a good idea?"

Walter gave him the middle finger, "Because you're a complete psycho through and through."

Martin said seriously, "That way, no one will compete with me for the beauty next door."

Walter chuckled, "Sorry, buddy, but the beauty next door has already been taken by the toughest guy on the crew."

Martin said in all seriousness, "Exactly, and that toughest guy is me!"

The others echoed in agreement, "Yeah, Martin's the toughest, Walter, you're all talk, no match for Martin."

Walter was at a loss for words; he was a head shorter than Martin and a size smaller in build.

It was then Aga reminded them, "Alright, moving on, let's set up for the next scene."

Martin headed to the resting area, where the makeup artist immediately came over for touch-ups.

A stagehand ran over from the entrance of the studio, whispered a few words to Aga, who nodded slightly and sent the stagehand off to relay a message, then continued with his work.

Craven and about five or six people entered from the doorway, staying away from the set, watching from a distance.

Martin glanced over and recognized them as the main creative team from the neighboring set.

He spotted director Ken Capisce, producer Brad Erisman, and the blonde, flowing-haired actress Blake Lively.

The rest were unfamiliar faces.

Martin ignored them and re-entered the set.

With blood stains on his face, head, and body, he looked like a hellish demon come to harvest the lives of the human world.

In front of the camera, Martin smashed another dummy's head, picked up a rusty knife from the ground, hid behind a house, waited for another psychopathic demon to pass by, then burst out, grabbing the stunt actor's neck, stabbing the prop knife into the stunt actor's chest, as fake blood bags sprayed blood outward.

Finish the job!

He yanked out the knife, stabbing repeatedly.

Blood gushed out like a fountain.

Again, Aga called cut, commending, "Martin, well done, you're a born killer."

Martin turned around, picking up the bloodied bat with one hand and clutching the realistic-looking knife with the other, his bloodstained face breaking into a smile, revealing two rows of white teeth.

The image was chilling, reminiscent of a psychotic serial killer, and as menacing as the most villainous Joker from DC Comics.

Aga's megaphone clattered onto the director's chair.

From a distance, Ken Capisce asked, "Is that Martin Davis? The difference in image and demeanor is too stark."

Craven said, "He's a great actor, capable of mastering a wide range of roles."

Blake chimed in, "I know him, I've even talked to him; if Uncle Capisce hadn't mentioned it, I wouldn't believe that was Martin."

She had met Martin a few times and had talked to him in the WMA lobby, finding him sunny and handsome, friendly, and pleasant to converse with.

Overall, quite attractive.

The current image and demeanor were in stark contrast.

Capisce said, "In the crew over here, he plays a completely different character."

After a day's shooting, Martin went to the dressing room to shower and change clothes.

Coming out, Bruce, waiting at the door, said, "They're discussing, they asked you to come over and chat for a bit."

Martin saw the people sitting in the resting area and greeted them one by one as he approached.

Capisce, looking at Martin in casual attire, said with a smile, "Now, there's the sunny and handsome soccer coach."

Martin pulled out a chair and sat down, stating, "I belong to the sun; the darkness is just part of the role."

Aga and Craven laughed heartily.

Capisce shifted to the main matter, "So, the climax of your movie, it's like the revenge pattern in 'I Spit on Your Grave'?"

"Yes," Aga replied, "Those psychopathic killers almost wiped out the male lead's family, and they kidnapped his child. The male lead is seeking revenge, trying to save his child. His burning desire for retribution is going to incinerate all of those freaks."

"Sounds interesting," Capisce said.

"Strictly speaking, it's a horror mixed with action," Craven and Aga had been somewhat influenced by Martin during the creation process, "The oppression in the first half of the movie is all about setting up for the explosive retaliation later, where the protagonist also uses slaughter to get his revenge."

Martin added a remark, "A pure commercial feel-good movie."

The producer in the jeans, Brad, commented, "This might provide a new angle, moving away from the usual monster-murdering-plain-folk trope in slasher films."

The modern master of horror films, Craven, said, "Ordinary people have been victimized too long in slasher films. It's time for a satisfying counterattack. In movies like 'Scream' and 'Wrong Turn', the human retribution seems weak, always surviving by mere luck."

After discussing movies for a while, Martin gave Aga a look from the side.

The understanding between two lechers was unquestionable, and Aga smoothly changed the subject, "Ken, Brad, our two crews are right next to each other. That's fate. I have a suggestion. How about we have a joint party during the weekend break?"

How could Hollywood be without parties, and producer Brad quickly agreed: "No problem, let's have a beach party."

Craven nodded repeatedly, "Great, and those who like can take a swim in the sea."

Indeed, the wavelength of these wolves was a hundred percent in sync.

The neighboring lot was preparing to shoot a football training camp, and was bound to bring in dozens of young actresses.

The old lechers shifted their grounds, ready to head to the beach to discuss how to make the party lively and colorful.

Blake quietly followed, casting a glance at Martin, who was hands in pockets, looking so evil and fierce when filming, but now just as sunny and handsome.

The setting sun's glow painted him, and it seemed like he was illuminating.

The young Blake, as if seeing Jack on the great ship, quietly approached Martin, saying, "Hello, Martin, I'm Blake, remember me? We've met a few times at WMA."

Martin responded, "Of course, you came to me asking about the audition results."

Blake found her topic, and went on, "My brother Eric auditioned for the same role as you. He was rejected by the director and couldn't let it go, keeping on wanting to find out, so I had to come to you for information."

"I didn't get that role either," Martin said.

Blake understood why and praised, "That means you're a person of principle."

Martin turned to look at her, "Yes, I may be an actor, but I have my principles and a line I won't cross."

story by m|v_l,e,m,p,y,r

The soft light shone on Martin's side profile, and Blake, a sucker for good looks, couldn't shift her gaze, muttering, "You are so handsome!"

As the cheerleading captain back in school, she had enough courage, "Martin, I've never met anyone as good-looking as you before."

"Thank you," Martin politely responded, "You're a real beauty too."

Blake spoke softly to Martin, not just a fan of good looks, but also a schemer.

The aforesaid lechers had already decided to combine both crews for a massive swimsuit party over the weekend.

It was to be split-the-bill, with each crew paying half.

Afterwards, Martin politely declined Blake's invitation and returned to the hotel to video call with Louise and Kelly.

During the call, Kelly mentioned that the package sent back to Atlanta had yet to arrive.

......

After summer vacation, Lily Carter, who went with her brother Harris to a nearby city to sell stars, finally returned to Clayton Community.

The store owner Nanni at the door once again stopped Lily to inform her about a package.

Lily took the parcel home, glanced at the shipping address, and it was from that idiot Martin again.

Sitting on the sofa, she took out a wallpaper knife and opened the box, finding a set of delicate carving tools inside.

"That idiot is satisfied with the gift I sent him?" Lily naturally came to this thought, "So, he sent me a set of carving tools in return?"

There was still buffalo horn, and Lily ran to the storage room to dig it out. She flexed her wrists and fingers, ready to try out the new tools.

Lily was planning to make a few new toys, confident she could do a delicate job.

......

In the hotel gym, Mike Vogel from the jeans crew was doing strength training.

Having completed script readings and rehearsals for all the scenes, he would soon head to Greece with a whole company of the crew.

A crew member approached him.

Vogel voluntarily walked towards a secluded area, waiting for him to catch up and asked, "Rick, what have you found out?"

Rick said, "The neighboring crew is shooting normally, Martin Davis is the male lead, and this afternoon, the director, producer, and people like Blake, went over for a set visit."

Vogel sat down in the resting area, "Anything special?"

Rick had scouted quite a bit of information, "I've asked our counterparts next door, Martin is in an action movie. This afternoon, a lot of people were praising him as the toughest guy in the crew."

Hearing the last phrase, Vogel raised an eyebrow, "The toughest?"

"That's right," Rick said, "More than once, people from the next lot have heard that once Martin gets excited, or has had a drink, and he's worked up, he'd boast that he's the toughest guy in Atlanta."

Vogel analyzed, "A small-timer gets lucky a few times in auditions, starts getting arrogant, and easily gets carried away when excited?"

Rick added, "We're joining the folks next door for a party this weekend, a beach swimsuit party."


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