The morning sun filtered through the windows as Martin, Jolie, and Aniston rode the special elevator down together, the tension between them palpable. The previous night had been a battlefield, with the three of them locked in a fierce debate over which film would clinch the Best Picture award at this year's Oscars. The argument had escalated to the point where harsh words were exchanged, leaving wounds that were still fresh.
As the elevator doors slid open, Jolie and Aniston, despite their earlier animosity, leaned on each other for support. They stepped out together, a silent truce forming between them. Martin was already outside, his car pulled up to the curb. He opened the doors and helped them in, his movements deliberate, almost apologetic.
Aniston slumped into the front seat, her glare fixed on Martin. "Can't you just lose to me on purpose?" she snapped, her voice edged with frustration.
Martin sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "I wish I could," he replied, a note of helplessness in his tone. "But I've let you take the lead, and yet, I can't just make myself lose. Some things aren't in our control."
Julie, seated in the back, couldn't hold back her anger. "Jenny, you're useless! Absolutely useless!"
Aniston fired back, her temper flaring. "No, we're all useless!"
For a moment, Jolie was silent, stunned by the exchange. But then, unable to resist, she sided with Aniston, her voice joining the fray. They had fought side by side last night, yet even their combined efforts had fallen short.
The argument simmered down as Martin started the car, breaking the uneasy silence. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice calm despite the chaos that had unfolded.
Julie leaned forward, determination in her eyes. "To Jenny's place. Someone needs to console her after this disaster."
The car glided out of the underground garage, the city waking up around them. Aniston, finally resigned to her defeat, stayed quiet, lost in her thoughts. Julie, however, couldn't keep silent. The entire drive, she peppered Martin with questions, eager to learn how she could maintain her presence and keep up her standards in the ever-shifting landscape of Hollywood.
Martin dropped them off at Aniston's sprawling Beverly Hills home. As soon as Aniston stepped out of the car, she pulled out her phone and made a call to Steve McQueen, the producer of '12 Years a Slave'. Her voice was steady as she asked him to withdraw the film's nomination for Best Picture, suggesting they focus on other categories instead.
Meanwhile, Martin drove straight to Davis Studio. There was no time to waste. He needed to inform Jessica and Emily that '12 Years a Slave' was no longer a contender for Best Picture. It wasn't until later that Martin pieced together that Aniston's production company, Plan B, had actually invested in the film. He hadn't expected Aniston to agree to Jolie's wild plan to fight him over who would step back.
But of course, withdrawing didn't guarantee a win. It only meant that the fight would be even harder, with public relations and promotions becoming the new battleground.
Back at the office, Martin sat quietly for a moment, pondering Aniston's decision. He picked up the phone and called her again, this time suggesting she reach out to Netflix, offering a new distribution channel that could rejuvenate the film's chances.
As he hung up, Martin's mind whirled with new strategies. If he wanted to compete seriously for Best Picture in the future, he needed to consider every possible angle, every "buff" that could give him an edge. The era of magic tricks and behind-the-scenes deals had arrived, and Martin knew he had to adapt.
This was no surprise to him. The Oscars had long since ceased to be about the quality of the film itself. How many truly great films had been snubbed over the years? He could name too many off the top of his head.
His thoughts were interrupted when Bruce barged in, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. "Alexandrovich just called. He's got important news. The call came through on an encrypted satellite line."
Martin didn't even look up from the financial reports he was reviewing. "The ratings for the second season of 'Servant of the People' exploded?" he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face. "Yes, the second season shattered records across multiple CIS countries. It's not just a hit, it's a phenomenon. The show's reputation has skyrocketed."
He paused, his tone shifting to one of admiration. "Before that human trafficking scandal, after the second season aired, he became the most popular figure in Ukraine. He's got the whole country behind him now, even a surprising number of Russians. They're rallying to his cause."
Martin nodded thoughtfully. "Bruce, we've done something incredible here. We've created a hero, one who might just have what it takes to lead a nation."
Bruce, still marveling at the turn of events, shook his head slightly. "This hero you created … I knew it was coming, but still, the speed of it caught me off guard. They're going to make it official soon."
A slow smile spread across Martin's face. "Isn't this what we've been waiting for? He's become a national hero, the beacon of hope for Ukraine, with the backing of the oligarchs. Victory isn't out of reach for him."
Bruce sighed, his voice carrying a mix of wonder and resignation. "Just two years ago, this seemed like a fantasy. Now, the world's turning into something almost magical."
Martin chuckled, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "A more magical world suits us just fine. There's comfort in chaos, especially when we're the ones pulling the strings."
Beyond the financial windfall, Martin couldn't deny the deep sense of accomplishment. It was a peculiar satisfaction, something that filled him with a unique kind of pride.
"And who knows," Martin mused, half-joking, "maybe one day I'll end up as the president myself. That would be an interesting twist."
Bruce's expression grew serious as he leaned forward. "He mentioned something important. He said he owes everything to you and promised a generous reward if you continue supporting him."
A playful glint appeared in Bruce's eye. "Do you think he'll send you hundreds of young and beautiful girls as thanks?"
Martin laughed heartily, his generosity on full display. "If that's the case, I'll split them with you fifty-fifty."
Bruce shook his head, recalling their time in Kiev. "I'll pass. Those girls, like Nastya, Mia, and Erica, too thin for my taste. One Judy's enough for me. Any more of those slender types and I'd be worried about breaking something."
Martin nodded understandingly. "Got it."
Bruce raised an eyebrow, curious. "What exactly do you understand?"
With mock seriousness, Martin replied, "I'll make sure to let him know to arrange for some more… substantial individuals, say over 35, maybe heavier set. That way, you won't have to worry about any pelvis problems."
Bruce couldn't help but laugh, flipping Martin the middle finger. The thought of dealing with Russian aunts was more than he could handle.
As a loyal friend who'd stood by him through thick and thin, Martin started to seriously consider finding a hundred old ladies with thin butts and water-jar waists for Bruce. It would be a fitting gesture, a special gift for someone who had protected him for so long.
Knowing Bruce's particular tastes, Martin was sure he'd appreciate the effort, even if he claimed otherwise. His preferences were clear, no need for Kardashians or the likes of Judy.
Bruce cleared his throat, bringing Martin back to the moment. "Don't forget, you've got a meeting with Leonardo and Nicholson."
Martin quickly gathered his things, ready to head out. "Right. Let's not keep them waiting."
They both climbed into the Escalade, the engine purring to life as they drove towards Brentwood. Martin picked up a newspaper, casually flipping through the society and entertainment sections.
His eyes lingered on an article in 'The Hollywood Reporter', an exclusive interview with Warner Bros. CEO and Chairman Kevin Tsujihara. The piece detailed the ambitious plans for DC's Justice League Universe, with Tsujihara confidently stating that DC was catching up to Marvel. The highlight? The much-anticipated release of 'Batman v Superman' slated for next year.
Martin's mind buzzed with thoughts, but he kept them to himself as the car sped down the road. There was always something new on the horizon, another opportunity, another challenge, and Martin was more than ready for it.
Kevin Tsujihara also made it clear that "Joker" would be the final DC film set outside the Justice League universe. Moving forward, Warner Bros. planned to fully integrate all their superhero films into this interconnected universe. Of course, this strategy hinged entirely on the Justice League universe being as successful as Marvel's Avengers.
In Hollywood, it's all about results and profitability. Failure isn't just a setback; it's a death sentence.
Martin, who had a keen eye on Warner Bros.' every move, turned to Bruce with a question. "Are people still paying attention to Kevin Tsujihara and his affair with Charlotte Kirk?"
Bruce nodded. "Ever since Michelle Bryan's suicide, our sources have refocused on Tsujihara and Kirk. They still meet at the Burbank Hotel regularly, though."
Martin considered this for a moment. "Anything unusual come up in their meetings?"
Bruce shook his head. "Not really. Kirk's back from working with the Interstellar crew. Besides her dates with Tsujihara, she's busy with a new movie. It's likely she got the role through him, but that's nothing out of the ordinary here in Hollywood."
Martin knew the game well, he'd helped a lover or two land roles himself. It was practically a rite of passage in the industry. When Tsujihara eventually stepped down from Warner Bros., it wouldn't be due to his scandalous relationship, but rather because of his poor performance. In Hollywood, results always trump scandal.
"Keep a close watch on them," Martin instructed. "The people at Warner Bros. are too sharp to let their guard down around. I wouldn't be surprised if they're cooking up something big."
Bruce nodded, recalling Jon Bourne's brilliance in film editing. Warner Bros. had a knack for pulling off the unexpected, and he knew better than to underestimate them.
---
Meanwhile, at the Burbank Hotel, in one of Warner Bros.' long-term private rooms, Kevin Tsujihara was catching his breath. After a brief and unimpressive performance, he leaned back, clearly spent. Charlotte Kirk, unimpressed, stretched out her legs, nudging him aside as she took matters into her own hands.
Tsujihara lit a cigarette, closing his eyes as he exhaled, the smoke curling around him like a comforting shroud. After a few moments, Charlotte got up, methodically tidying them both.
"You did well as Lois Lane in 'Man of Steel,' but don't let it get to your head," Tsujihara said, his voice a mix of authority and condescension. "In the next film, you need to give her more depth."
He leaned closer, as if sharing a well-kept secret. "Zack Snyder originally wanted Amy Adams for the role, but I had Charles Roven push back on that. You're only here because of me."
Charlotte, despite not landing the role of Wonder Woman, was still pleased with her part as Lois Lane, the leading lady in both 'Man of Steel' and 'Batman v Superman.' Smiling, she leaned in closer, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Honey, I'm at your service, whatever you need. Just say the word, and I'm there. If there's something I don't know how to do, I'll learn it for you."
Tsujihara, uninterested in further indulgence, waved her off. "That's enough for now."
Charlotte knew her position depended entirely on Tsujihara's favor. Her need to please him was palpable. She suddenly remembered something he had asked of her earlier. "It's a shame I missed the chance with Martin Davis. If I'd succeeded, you could've gotten me a spot on the 'Joker' crew."
Tsujihara's expression darkened at the mention of Martin. "You mentioned before that Martin's close to Mackenzie Foy, and you think he's into younger girls?"
Charlotte nodded emphatically, her tone laced with contempt. "I swear, he's a total creep! That bastard is definitely a pervert!"
Tsujihara's irritation simmered beneath the surface. The name Martin Davis was enough to spoil what little satisfaction he'd found in the encounter.
Kevin Tsujihara nodded slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Originally, I was considering Michelle Bryan for this..." His voice trailed off as memories of his troubled relationship with his sister and the pressure from his brother-in-law, Jon Berg, flooded his mind. Berg had been forced to resign, and his sister hadn't stopped hounding him since. Kevin had been planning to use Michelle Bryan as a pawn, waiting until the "Joker" project was complete before making his move to undermine Martin Davis.
Charlotte leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Michelle Bryan... She had those issues with suicide, right? Martin Davis has a thing for that sort of... darkness. Do you think she could have been one of his clients?"
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she continued, "There can't be many people in Los Angeles who provide that kind of service on such a large scale, right?"
Kevin paused, considering her words carefully. "Apart from the church, the only one who really took it to that level was Michelle Bryan."
Suddenly, a chilling thought seemed to strike Charlotte, and her face paled. "Could Michelle Bryan's suicide have anything to do with Martin? What if he was involved?"
Her hands began to tremble at the thought. The idea that someone could orchestrate a suicide and have the FBI accept it as such was terrifying.
Kevin shook his head, his voice firm. "The person behind that wasn't Martin. I've heard things; rumours from my position, but this isn't something you should be getting involved in. Don't let your curiosity get the better of you, and definitely don't try to uncover the truth."
Charlotte swallowed hard, nodding. "I understand."
She hesitated, then asked, "And what about that bastard, Martin…?"
Kevin cut her off, his tone final. "We'll deal with him after the 'Joker' project is done. Not before."
Seeing that the conversation was over, Charlotte silently slipped away to the bathroom, the tension still hanging in the air.
Kevin, left alone, lit another cigarette, the glow of the lighter briefly illuminating his troubled expression. As the smoke curled around him, he couldn't shake his thoughts of Martin Davis. That man was a formidable adversary, one who wouldn't be easily taken down. To handle him, Kevin knew he'd have to resort to unconventional methods. Maybe, just maybe, there was still something to be leveraged from Michelle Bryan's death.
After their meeting, as usual, Kevin and Charlotte left the Burbank Hotel separately, taking care to leave at different times. Neither of them noticed the shadows tailing them as they headed to the Warner Building and Warner Studios, respectively.
---
Meanwhile, in Brentwood, at Leonardo DiCaprio's luxurious mansion, Jack Nicholson uncorked a bottle of fine wine, pouring generously into three glasses. The atmosphere was relaxed but charged with an underlying tension, as the three industry heavyweights gathered around.
Martin lifted his glass, a smile playing on his lips. "Just so we're clear, my sights are set on Best Picture."
Leonardo let out a long breath, relief evident in his voice. "Open Road Pictures is gunning for Best Actor with 'The Wolf of Wall Street'. I figured you wouldn't come at me directly. You're too clever for that, you bastard."
Martin grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Consider it a favor to our friendship. I'd hate to crush your chances so thoroughly that you'd never recover."
Leonardo chuckled, but there was a hint of unease beneath his bravado. "We don't have any conflicts this time, so how about you give me some pointers on snagging that Oscar? Just don't tell me you're planning to play the victim again."
Nicholson, ever the observer, couldn't help but chime in, his voice tinged with amusement. "This is a first, seeing someone so brazenly shameless. You've got a bet with Martin, and now you're asking him to help you win it?"
Martin leaned back, an amused smirk on his face. "Leo, let's get one thing straight: the best help I can give you is to not sabotage you."
Leonardo sighed dramatically, his hands lifting in mock defeat. "Without your backing, I don't feel as confident."
"Don't say that," Martin quickly cut in, glancing around as if someone might overhear. "People might get the wrong idea."
Nicholson laughed, swirling his wine. "Doesn't matter. Leo can keep playing the victim, sprinting through Hollywood like he's running a 100-meter dash..."
Leonardo flashed Nicholson a middle finger, but there was a glint of consideration in his eyes. Maybe the old man was right. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to be said for playing the victim one more time at the Oscars.