Beverly Hills, near West Hollywood.
Ryan Reynolds drove his sleek sports car through the winding roads of an exclusive neighborhood, finally pulling up to a villa with a private entrance and secluded courtyard. Under the watchful eyes of security personnel, he parked near the entrance, the engine's purr dying down in the warm Los Angeles air.
A man in a tailored suit approached, his steps brisk. "Mr. Reynolds, please follow me."
Ryan nodded, his expression unreadable, and fell into step behind the man. They walked past a sparkling swimming pool, its surface rippling gently under the sun. The end of May had brought warm, inviting weather, and the poolside was alive with activity. Seven or eight women in swimsuits lounged on beach chairs or played in the water, their laughter mingling with the sound of splashing. They represented a spectrum of skin tones and hair colors, each one a picture of sensual beauty.
Ryan couldn't help but compare them to his ex-wife, Scarlett Johansson. Despite her fame, he thought, these women were in a league of their own.
The man led Ryan into the villa and up to a spacious balcony. He gestured for Ryan to wait, then disappeared through a side door. Moments later, a woman with striking blonde hair and flawless makeup appeared. She moved with a practiced grace, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him.
"Welcome to Happy Valley, Ryan," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I remember you. You've placed several orders with Global Travel."
Ryan offered a polite smile. "I have another big order in mind."
Michelle Bryan, the woman, pointed towards the pool below. "See anyone you like? They're all first-rate, top quality."
Ryan's gaze remained steady, unimpressed. Sensing his disinterest, Michelle continued, "I have a rich supply of options. What you see here is just a glimpse. Fashion models, Hollywood actors, Sacred Valley artists, cover girls, radio and television hosts, you name it, I can find it."
Ryan leaned forward slightly, his tone measured. "They're too old. I'm looking for something younger."
Michelle's eyes narrowed. The FBI had conducted sting operations before, and she was no stranger to their tactics. The last time, she had narrowly escaped due to a client's betrayal.
Ryan reached into his pocket and produced a business card, handing it to her. "Mr. Charles recommended your services to me."
Michelle examined the card, flipping it over to check for authenticity, then nodded. "What exactly are you looking for?"
Ryan, determined to make a powerful comeback and impress Fox, spoke quietly but clearly, outlining his requirements.
Michelle listened carefully, her expression thoughtful. When he finished, she leaned back. "Ryan, I can source what you need, but I don't have it here. Your specifications are quite demanding and will take time to arrange."
Ryan's impatience flickered. "How long?"
Michelle's tone was pragmatic. "What you're asking for is highly specialized. It won't be quick, and I can't give you an exact timeframe."
She paused, then added, "Also, you'll need to place a deposit, $200,000 to start."
Ryan considered her words, the wheels of his mind turning as he calculated his next move. The stakes were high, but he was determined to see his plans through.
Ryan's eyes widened in disbelief. "Two hundred thousand dollars?"
Michelle's expression remained calm, almost indifferent. "Yes, because we might need to source the goods from Eastern Europe or even Ukraine."
Ryan hesitated, the enormity of the amount making him second-guess his decision.
Michelle leaned forward, her voice dropping to a persuasive murmur. "If our price doesn't suit you, you are free to look elsewhere."
Ryan knew there were no other options. Michelle Bryan had an unrivaled reputation in the industry. He weighed his choices for a brief moment before nodding in agreement. "Alright," he conceded.
After arranging the deposit, Ryan left his contact information and exited Happy Valley. The drive back was a blur of thoughts and plans. He knew he had to sell off fixed assets to gather enough funds for this gamble. Deep down, he felt an undeniable connection to the role of Deadpool, a conviction born from his experience in "Wolverine."
Meanwhile, on the villa's balcony, Michelle picked up her phone and dialed a number. As the call connected, she asked, "Can I speak with the boss?"
"The boss is currently on the island and unavailable," came the reply. "If you have something to discuss, you can tell me. I'll relay the message if necessary."
Michelle sighed. "I have a customer requesting two completely fresh ones. Can we fulfill that order?"
The voice on the other end hesitated. "Not at the moment. We've recently catered to several high-profile clients, depleting our inventory. Plus, our channels in Eastern Europe are facing issues, so we're temporarily out of stock."
Michelle's brow furrowed. "What's the issue with the Eastern European channel?"
"The Ukrainians are holding auditions for the Saint Girl Group. Many have unrealistic dreams of overnight fame, which has significantly reduced the number of volunteers."
Michelle rolled her eyes. "Daydreamers indeed. When do you expect to replenish the stock?"
"It's hard to say. If it's urgent, you might consider sending someone there. Your team has been there multiple times; they're familiar with the area."
"Understood. I'll handle it," Michelle replied before hanging up. She immediately dialed another number. "Linki, come up to the balcony."
Minutes later, Lynch, a burly man with a steely gaze, arrived.
"I recall you mentioned that Nikia, one of the girls we arranged for Martin Davis, might have fled back to Ukraine?" Michelle queried.
Lynch nodded. "Yes. I've spoken to several Ukrainian girls who've sneaked over here. Many of them confirmed that Nikia returned to her hometown."
He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Given the amount of money she took, it makes sense. While it's a decent sum in America, it's a small fortune in Ukraine."
Michelle tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the table. "Alright, Lynch. We need to act on this quickly. Get our best people on it. We can't afford any delays."
Lynch nodded and left the balcony, leaving Michelle to contemplate the intricate web of operations she managed. The stakes were high, but she thrived on the challenge.
Michelle's eyes sharpened with determination. "When can you head to Ukraine?"
Lynch raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Just to catch Nikia?"
Michelle nodded, her tone decisive. "A client has specific, urgent needs. You'll take him with you."
Lynch considered her words, then suggested, "I think we should keep him here for a bit longer. It will not only prevent him from breaking away but also give me time to finish my current tasks. Once that's done, I'll head to Ukraine."
Michelle, seeing the logic in his plan, nodded. "Alright, that works."
---
June arrived, bringing with it the box office success of "The Town." With the North American box office surpassing $180 million and the overseas box office exceeding $70 million, the crew concluded their promotional tour across North America, Europe, and Latin America, and returned to Los Angeles.
After a few days of rest, Martin received a call from Christopher Nolan and made his way to Warner Studios. The studio was quiet during mid-morning work hours, with only a few people in the lobby.
As Martin headed toward the elevator, he spotted Kevin Tsujihara walking in his direction. They both paused and acknowledged each other.
Martin smiled and greeted, "Hi, Kevin, long time no see."
Kevin Tsujihara returned the smile, albeit slightly. "Hello, Martin. What brings you to Warner today?"
Martin was direct. "I'm here to see Director Nolan."
Kevin's thoughts turned to the substantial investment in "Interstellar." He remarked, "You and Nolan make a great team. I hope this project achieves the same success as 'The Dark Knight.'"
Martin laughed confidently. "I have no doubt it will. Nolan and I work well together."
Their relationship was professional rather than personal, so after a few minutes of polite conversation, they parted ways.
Kevin Tsujihara had his reservations about Martin. Ever since Martin had ended his collaboration with Warner Bros. and signed with Disney, tensions had been high. A series of events had led to Jon Berg's dismissal, and the presidency of Warner Pictures had passed to someone else.
Kevin could sense that Martin wasn't particularly fond of him either. Warner Bros.' film division was struggling, and Kevin knew he had to make compromises for the sake of the company's performance. Working with people like Martin and Nolan, despite personal feelings, was a necessary evil.
For Warner Bros. to regain its former glory, Kevin was focused on two major projects: the rebooted DC Justice League movie universe and the serialization of J.K. Rowling's "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
Martin took the elevator to the top floor and found Nolan in his office. The planning phase of their new project was nearly complete, and the film was about to enter the shooting phase.
Martin felt a rush of excitement. This was the beginning of something big, and he was ready to give it his all.
Nolan had just returned from Atlanta, looking slightly weary but energized by the project's progress. Martin wasted no time and asked directly, "When do I join the crew for filming?"
Nolan scanned the schedule on his desk. "Your scenes will span 40 to 50 days, but they are divided into three segments."
Martin raised an eyebrow. "Different locations, I assume?"
Nolan nodded, handing him the detailed schedule. "Yes. The interior scenes will be shot primarily at the Gray Film and Television Center in Atlanta. For exterior scenes, we have two locations: the alien planet sequences will be filmed in Iceland, and the corn farm scenes on a farm just outside Atlanta."
Martin examined the schedule, nodding in approval. "No problem on my end."
Nolan leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his face. "You gained a lot of experience filming space scenes during 'The Martian,' right? Share your insights with the other actors on set."
Martin chuckled. "That's no big deal. For some of the less critical scenes, you can even let me take the director's chair."
Nolan, recognizing Martin's eagerness to learn about directing, considered the suggestion. "I'll select a few scenes for you."
An idea sparked in Nolan's mind, this could be a fantastic promotional angle for the movie. Marketing genius Nolan was in action. With the assistant director responsible for behind-the-scenes footage not around, Nolan quickly grabbed a notepad. While Martin was still absorbed in the schedule, Nolan scribbled:
"During filming, Martin served as a temporary director, leading the crew in shooting several scenes. His impromptu performance received unanimous praise from the crew. Director Nolan and producer Emma Thomas believe Martin has a real talent for directing."
Satisfied, Nolan tucked the notepad away. He'd ensure it got entered into the promotional materials database later.
Martin, having noted some of Nolan's scene drawings and shooting ideas, copied them to take home. "Are you serious about letting me direct?" he asked.
Nolan looked at him intently. "Just for fun, or do you have a point to prove?"
Martin sighed, half-smiling. "Honestly, it's more about competition. That bastard Leonardo insists on competing with me, and I want to make him eat his words."
Nolan's expression turned stern. "Keep it quiet."
Martin nodded. "Just for my eyes."
Leaving Nolan's office, Martin headed downstairs, where he ran into Emma Thomas.
"Martin," Emma called out, "where's Mene? I haven't seen him in ages. Does he still live in Los Angeles?"
Martin shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I haven't seen Mene in a while either."
Emma didn't press further, simply waving goodbye as she left. Martin continued downstairs and found Bruce waiting for him.
As they walked towards the studio entrance, Bruce pulled out his phone, his face serious. "Martin, did you know you have another son?"
Martin blinked, confused. "What? What are you talking about?"
Bruce handed him the phone, pointing to a Twitter feed. "Check this out."
Martin stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the unexpected revelation.