Sherman Oaks, Angel Club
The sun beat down on the outdoor shooting range at the Angel Club, casting sharp shadows across the sandy ground. Kane, the club's no-nonsense boss, stood with his arms crossed behind Martin and Mene. In his hand, he clutched a small timer. His eyes were steely, focused on the two men in front of him. Without warning, he slammed his thumb down on the button and barked, "Start!"
Martin's reaction was instant. In one fluid motion, he drew his Glock from its holster at his waist, both hands gripping the gun with the confidence of a seasoned pro. He moved forward with the precision of a dancer, his feet gliding across the ground, body perfectly balanced. The sound of gunfire split the air as he squeezed the trigger repeatedly. Each shot found its mark, and the human-shaped targets dropped one by one as if choreographed to fall at his command.
On the other side of the range, Mene mirrored Martin's movements, moving with purpose and determination. His gun was also held firm in a two-handed grip, and he fired methodically, his eyes never leaving the targets ahead of him. Yet, despite his best efforts, it was clear that Martin's speed and accuracy were in a league of their own. By the time Mene was halfway through his first clip, Martin had already emptied his magazine and was in the middle of a smooth, practiced reload.
As the seconds ticked by, the intensity of the exercise began to take its toll on Mene. His breathing grew heavy, and sweat glistened on his forehead. Martin, meanwhile, completed his second round of firing with an air of calm efficiency. He stepped out of the range and waited, leaning casually against a post, while Mene pushed through his fatigue to finish the drill. When Mene finally emerged, his chest was heaving, and his face shone with perspiration.
Celine Dion, ever attentive, appeared by Mene's side almost as soon as he finished. She moved with the grace of someone who knew exactly what was needed. From her back pocket, she pulled out a soft, clean towel and began to gently dab the sweat from Mene's brow, her touch tender and caring. Without missing a beat, she reached into her jeans again, this time producing a chilled bottle of Gatorade. She twisted off the cap and handed it to Mene, her eyes full of concern.
Kane, watching this display, couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. He admired Celine's nurturing nature and wondered, with a touch of bitterness, why he had chosen the rough life of running a club instead of settling down with someone who cared for him as Celine did for Mene.
Nearby, Chad, Chen, Marcus, and a few others observed the scene with knowing smiles. They had long since become accustomed to such sights. In the distance, among the women who had gathered to chat, Elizabeth nudged Lily, pulling her out of a conversation with Judy. With a knowing glance, the two women moved towards Martin, one with a towel, the other with a bottle of water.
But when they reached him, they found Bruce already there, a towel in hand and a sheepish grin on his face. "Beat you to it," he chuckled softly as he began to wipe the sweat from Martin's forehead.
Lily shot Bruce a playful glare and whispered, "Bruce, you're stealing my job."
Bruce shrugged, still smiling. "Habit from the set," he replied.
Lily took over, expertly wiping Martin's face, while Elizabeth offered him the water. Martin accepted it with a grateful nod, and as he drank, the others watched on, their expressions a mix of admiration and envy.
Living with two women like Lily and Elizabeth, who not only got along with each other but also didn't mind Martin's flirtations with other women, was a luxury most men could only dream of. Martin was, without a doubt, a man who had it all.
Chen Hu voiced what everyone was thinking. "Martin and Mene, both of them are winners in life. No denying that."
Chad, glancing over at Judy, couldn't help but think of Bruce's close ties with the Kardashian sisters. "Bruce isn't doing too bad either," he added with a smirk.
Marcus clapped them both on the back and declared, "We're all winners in life!"
Chen Hu and Chad fell silent for a moment, considering the truth of that statement. Then, as if on cue, Chen nodded. "You're right. Following Martin, we've all come out on top."
The training continued for over an hour before the group finally returned to the club's entertainment and rest area. The atmosphere shifted from intense to relaxed. The women gathered on a large, plush sofa, sipping tea and indulging in light conversation, their laughter and chatter filling the space.
Meanwhile, Martin, Mene, and the rest of the guys congregated around the bar. Drinks flowed, and the conversation turned to business, mostly about the movies they were working on.
"John Wick 3 is in post-production and moving along smoothly," Martin said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "We're on track for a summer release next year."
Chen Hu and Marcus, who didn't need to be involved in post-production, had already shifted their focus to designing action sequences for a new project. "This time," Chen Hu explained, "the story's centered on Winston, not Jonathan. It's going to dive deep into the Continental Hotel in New York. Mene, you ready for that?"
Mene, still catching his breath from the earlier training, nodded. "Been hitting the gym hard, working on my fitness. The gun and shooting practice today is just the beginning."
The project, tentatively titled "The Continental Hotel New York," was already generating buzz among them, and Mene's dedication to the role was evident. As the conversation flowed, it was clear that, just like the men had said earlier, they all truly felt like winners in life.
Recently, Mene has been fully immersed in life at the Angels Club, dedicating himself to intense training under the guidance of top professionals. Every day was a grueling test of endurance and skill, but Mene embraced the challenge with unwavering determination.
To support him during this demanding period, Celine Dion temporarily left the bright lights of Las Vegas and relocated to Los Angeles. Her presence was a constant source of comfort and motivation for Mene, as she stood by his side, ensuring he had everything he needed to succeed.
Under this rigorous regime, Mene's physique transformed dramatically. His once lean frame now boasted well-defined muscles, a testament to his hard work. He also became adept with firearms, learning to handle a gun with increasing confidence. Though his accuracy still needed refinement, his form and the intensity with which he handled the weapon were impressive' perfect for the dramatic action scenes he would soon perform on screen.
One afternoon, as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, Martin, Chad, and Mene gathered in the club's cozy lounge to discuss the upcoming project. The conversation was focused, the air thick with the excitement of new ideas.
Chad leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "While the action scenes are the heart of this film, we can't overlook the importance of the narrative that ties them together. The story has to show how Winston evolves from a solitary assassin into the man who runs the Continental Hotel."
Martin nodded in agreement, appreciating Chad's attention to detail. "You're right. We should sit down with the screenwriter and flesh out these ideas. Your vision for this project is vital, and I want to make sure your input shapes the final script."
For Chad, this series was more than just a project; it was a legacy. He was determined to pour every ounce of creativity into it, knowing it could be the defining work of his career. Martin, recognizing Chad's passion, was equally committed to supporting his vision, particularly for the spin-off series centered around Winston.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the lounge, the women were engrossed in a completely different discussion' beauty and skincare. Lily and Elizabeth, known for their flawless complexions, were the center of attention.
"How do you two manage to look so young?" someone asked, admiring their smooth, glowing skin. Despite being in their mid-twenties, they could easily pass for younger.
Elizabeth, always the modest one, smiled and replied, "Honestly, I think it's because I don't wear heavy makeup very often. My skin gets to breathe."
Lily, on the other hand, was more spirited in her response. "It might have something to do with Martin," she joked, her eyes twinkling. "Ever since I've been with him, I feel like I've been aging backward."
Judy, who had been quietly listening, chimed in. "I've found a great way to deal with under-eye bags and wrinkles," she said, touching her own skin, which had a healthy glow.
Celine Dion, who had been feeling self-conscious about her own eye bags, perked up at this. "Really? What's your secret? I could use some help in that department."
Chad's girlfriend, Catherine, nodded in agreement. "Lack of sleep always gives me bags under my eyes. It's such a persistent problem."
Judy leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice as if revealing a treasured secret. "This is something Sandra Bullock shared with me during an interview. She's been using it since 2001, and it works wonders." With a dramatic pause, Jody reached into her bag and pulled out a small tube of ointment, its packaging in three bold colors' red, yellow, and white.
Everyone leaned in closer, curiosity piqued. "Sandra swears by this as an eye cream. She says it's amazing for eliminating eye bags and preventing fine lines."
Celine, Elizabeth, and Lily exchanged glances, recalling how youthful Sandra Bullock looked despite being in her fifties. "What is it?" Celine asked, her excitement barely contained.
Chen Hu's girlfriend, who had a sharp eye, took one look and burst out laughing. "That's hemorrhoid cream!"
A moment of stunned silence followed, as the women processed this unexpected revelation. Then Lily, ever the quick-witted one, raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you're telling me something meant for… the other end… can be used on your face?"
Judy shrugged nonchalantly. "It might sound strange, but it works. I've tried it, and it's surprisingly effective."
Celine, undeterred by the oddity of the idea, pulled out her phone. "I've got to get a picture of this. I'm definitely going to try it out."
Judy held the tube up, and the women quickly gathered around, snapping pictures with their phones, eager to see if this unusual remedy might be the key to youthful skin. Even Lily and Elizabeth, who rarely needed such tricks, joined in, intrigued by the possibility.
As they chatted, Catherine pulled up Sandra Bullock's Instagram account on her phone. Sure enough, there was a post where Sandra mentioned her unusual skincare routine, including the use of hemorrhoid cream to combat puffiness around her eyes. It seemed the secret was out, and everyone was keen to see if it lived up to the hype.
Later that afternoon, after the club's activities had wrapped up, the group headed to a nearby restaurant for dinner. The atmosphere was lively, with everyone in high spirits after a productive day. Elizabeth, ever the hostess, ensured that the conversation flowed smoothly, her charm creating a warm and inviting ambiance. As the evening wore on, laughter and stories filled the air, with no shortage of topics to discuss.
Before the night ended, Elizabeth and Lily presented each of the women with small, thoughtful gifts' a gesture that cemented their roles as the heart of the group. It was these little touches that made everyone feel appreciated and valued, adding to the sense of camaraderie that bound them all together.
When they finally returned home, Martin made sure to show his appreciation for Lily and Elizabeth's efforts. The night ended with both women feeling cherished, their hard work rewarded with a peaceful, contented sleep.
The next morning, as soon as Martin and Bruce arrived at the studio, Bruce walked over with a newspaper in hand, a serious expression etched on his face. He handed it to Martin, pointing to an article on one of the pages.
"Take a look at this," Bruce said, his tone heavy. "The verdict came down yesterday after the trial concluded. Ryan Reynolds was sentenced to six years in prison. He must have been under immense pressure because he announced right there in court that he wouldn't appeal. He's accepting the verdict as it stands."
Martin scanned the article quickly, but legal jargon wasn't his strong suit. He looked up at Bruce, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Isn't six years a bit short for something like this?"
Bruce sighed, nodding slowly. "You're not wrong, but the situation's complicated. The victim isn't American' she's Ukrainian. Even though women's and children's advocacy groups here in Los Angeles have been following the case closely, this outcome is about as good as it gets given the circumstances."
Bruce paused, then added with a note of finality, "But regardless of how long he's behind bars, Ryan Reynolds is finished in Hollywood. There's no coming back from this."
Martin considered this for a moment, then reached for his phone. He dialed Scarlett Johansson's number, but when the call connected, it wasn't Scarlett who answered' it was her assistant. The assistant informed Martin that Scarlett was busy filming interior scenes for 'Avengers 2' at Disney Studios and couldn't come to the phone.
It wasn't long before Scarlett called back. Her voice was warm, with a hint of excitement. "Martin, how about we meet up for lunch? I'm at Disney, but I'll book us a table at a restaurant nearby. My treat!"
True to his word, Martin arrived at the restaurant on time. Scarlett was already there, dressed in a sleek, figure-hugging autumn outfit that complemented her curves. She greeted Martin with a bright smile, her good mood palpable. As soon as they were seated, she raised her glass in a toast. "Martin, you should congratulate me!"
Martin smiled, already guessing the reason for her cheerfulness. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Ryan Reynolds, would it?"
Scarlett's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in slightly, relishing the moment. "I managed to send my ex-husband, the man who made my life hell, to prison. And it feels amazing!"
Martin clinked his glass with hers, matching her grin. "Well then, congratulations on getting your revenge."
Scarlett took a sip of her wine, her smile turning sly. "Tell me, Martin, do I look like the Black Widow now?"
Martin couldn't resist teasing her. "Not exactly a Black Widow," he replied with a smirk. "More like a praying mantis."
Scarlett chuckled, catching the implication immediately. She leaned closer, her voice low and flirtatious. "So, would you like to be the other half of this female praying mantis?"
Martin played along, smiling as he said, "If you find your other half, I'll be the first to congratulate you."
Scarlett's playful expression faltered just a little, replaced by a hint of something more genuine. "You know," she said, a touch of wistfulness in her voice, "you've set the bar really high. It's hard to find another man like you' handsome, successful, capable… the total package."
Martin recognized the flattery for what it was, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He gave her a warm smile. "You know you can always count on me, Scarlett."
As lunch wound down, Scarlett leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "I'm planning to visit Ryan Reynolds," she said casually, but there was an edge to her voice.
Martin raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Visit him? Are you sure he'll want to see you?"
Scarlett's smile turned cold, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, I have my ways. He'll see me whether he wants to or not."
Martin couldn't help but shudder internally at the thought. Images of other high-profile divorces flashed through his mind' Jolie and Aniston, Kidman and Cruise. He realized with a sinking feeling just how dangerous ex-wives could be. The thought of marriage, once again, seemed fraught with peril.
Marriage, he mused, was like playing with fire. When it burns out, the aftermath can be as devastating as a nuclear explosion' leaving not just the couple, but everyone around them, in ruins. He'd seen it happen too many times, both in Hollywood and beyond. Nicole Kidman, for instance, still invoked Tom Cruise's name whenever she needed a publicity boost.
He could only imagine what lay ahead for Ryan Reynolds. The physical imprisonment would be bad enough, but with Scarlett on the loose, the mental torment might be far worse. The ex-wife, Martin reflected, was truly a force to be reckoned with.
That afternoon, Martin's musings were interrupted by a call from Thomas. The next thing he knew, he was on his way to the WMA headquarters in Century City, leaving behind the thoughts of Scarlett and Ryan to focus on whatever new challenge awaited him there.
At WMA, a fresh batch of scripts and project books had just arrived, a mix of proposals from various film companies and works completed by the agency's stable of screenwriter clients. As the agency's top male actor, Martin had the privilege of first dibs on any role before it was offered to anyone else. This meant that every project would be presented to him before it was even considered for other actors.
In the spacious, well-lit conference room, Thomas, Martin's agent, entered with a small entourage. They carried in stacks of scripts and project summaries, setting them down on the large conference table before Martin. Each script had been meticulously cataloged in the computer system, and now they were laid out for his consideration.
Martin knew from experience that reading each script cover to cover was an impossible task. There were simply too many' dozens of scripts, ranging from external film company projects to those written by WMA's in-house screenwriters. To carefully sift through each one could take the better part of a week, time Martin didn't have.
Instead, as was his usual practice, Martin started by scanning the index and summaries of each project. He was selective, aiming for quality over quantity, so many projects didn't catch his eye. He skimmed past titles like 'Point Break' and 'The Last Witch Hunter', both of which triggered memories of past box-office struggles. Those films, with their hefty $60 million budgets, were long shots' likely to take years, if ever, to turn a profit.
After quickly browsing through the list, Martin finally found something that piqued his interest. He pulled one script aside' a rarity, given how often he came away empty-handed from these sessions. Too many Hollywood projects, after all, were often greenlit before a solid script was even in place.
Martin tapped the script with his finger and looked up at Thomas. "This one seems interesting. Is this just a script, or is there more to the project?"
Thomas glanced at the title. "San Andreas?" He turned to his assistant with a quick instruction. "Find that script immediately."
As the assistant hurried off, Thomas reviewed the index. "It's from Carlton Cuse's team. He's one of our top screenwriter clients."
Martin nodded, recognizing the name but wanting more context. "What's his background? What else has he worked on?"
Thomas leaned back in his chair, considering the question. "Carlton started in films' he wrote 'Beverly Hills Adventure' back in the 80s. But he's best known for his work in television. He was the lead screenwriter for 'The Dragon' and 'The Jimmy Show'. More recently, he's been a key writer on 'Lost', which, as you know, became a massive hit."
Martin nodded again, now recalling 'Lost' and its huge impact on American television. Just then, Thomas's assistant returned, placing a copy of the 'San Andreas' script in front of Martin.
Martin took the script and began to read, his interest deepening with each page. The story centered around the San Andreas Fault, a notorious geological feature running through California. According to the script, some geologists predicted that the fault had accumulated massive pressure, and if released suddenly, it could trigger a devastating earthquake of magnitude 8 or higher, threatening all of western California.
The concept immediately brought to mind a famous disaster film from Martin's previous life, a blockbuster that had captivated audiences and become the most successful disaster film after '2012'. The film, also titled 'San Andreas', featured intense action and gripping scenes of destruction, but what stuck with Martin the most was Alexandra Daddario's performance' particularly her memorable scenes during the earthquake, which had left an indelible mark on audiences.
And of course, there was Dwayne Johnson.
As he read on, Martin paid close attention to the character breakdown. The male protagonist was a member of a fire rescue team, divorced from his wife, who had since married a wealthy man in San Francisco. When the earthquake struck, the protagonist embarked on a perilous journey from Los Angeles to San Francisco, determined to rescue his ex-wife and daughter from the chaos.
There was no doubt in Martin's mind' this was the same 'San Andreas' he remembered, a film with immense commercial potential if handled correctly.
After a moment of consideration, Martin looked up at Thomas, his decision made. "Reach out to Carlton Cuse and his agent. Let them know that Davis Studio is interested in this project."
Thomas immediately jotted down the note and gave Martin a confident nod. "I'll get on it right away. I don't anticipate any major hurdles. The agency will be eager to help seal this deal."
Martin leaned back, satisfied. This could be the next big thing, he thought, a project with all the right elements to become a box-office hit. Now, it was just a matter of making it happen.