April 15
At the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles, the clock struck 8:25 PM.
Guests made their way down the hallway into the screening hall.
By this point, the screening room was packed, except for the front rows reserved for the cast and VIPs.
Exchanging greetings with a few people who stood to shake his hand, Martin led Nicole to their seats.
Directors Larry and Andy Wachowski were already seated.
Larry Wachowski's appearance had taken on a distinctly feminine touch—thin eyebrows, subtle lip gloss, light eyeshadow, and hair deliberately grown longer.
Martin glanced at her briefly before averting his eyes, feeling slightly uneasy. He didn't discriminate against transgender people; he just couldn't tolerate unattractiveness!
To be fair, Larry's transformation wasn't the worst. It was Andy Wachowski, who was harder on the eyes. Once a burly, bearded man with a sturdy frame and rough pores, Andy's attempt at femininity still looked like a hulking man in drag, complete with makeup, women's clothing, and padded chest.
As the theater lights dimmed and the large screen lit up, Larry leaned closer to Martin, speaking in an intentionally softened feminine voice:
"Martin, I have immense confidence in this film. You have nothing to worry about!"
The overwhelming scent of perfume hit Martin like a wave, making his hair stand on end. He quickly leaned toward Nicole and said, "I'm not worried. Sit back!"
Disappointed, Larry straightened up.
Martin made up his mind. After tonight, he'd cut ties with the Wachowski siblings. How dare they harbor inappropriate thoughts about him? Ridiculous!
Anyway, the "Matrix" trilogy was done, and he had no plans for a fourth installment. They were expendable now.
Nicole, unaware of what had transpired, assumed Martin was up to something mischievous under the cover of darkness.
Her heart swelled with mixed emotions—delight tinged with helplessness.
This little rascal just couldn't keep himself in check!
Even so, her hand instinctively reached for him.
Martin was momentarily startled before breaking into a sly smile.
On the screen, the distinct animation of Meyers Pictures' logo flashed by, followed by cascading green code on a black background, forming the title: The Matrix.
A voiceover began, accompanied by the rapid flicker of computer program code.
The audience learned from the voiceover that some individuals were discussing the need to find and protect someone—a savior, no less.
The scene then brightened, showing a dozen police officers moving through a dilapidated building, evidently searching for someone.
Eventually, they stopped outside a room.
A burly officer kicked the door open. The camera panned inward, revealing a striking woman in a tight black leather suit.
"Wow!"
A chorus of gasps erupted, all from men.
Nicole's stunning figure in that sleek leather outfit was both cool and irresistibly alluring, leaving women envious and men mesmerized.
"Your people are already dead," said a cold, suited man wearing dark sunglasses in the next scene. He stood below the building, delivering the message to the lead officer.
Before the men in the audience could sigh in disappointment, the film cut back to Nicole's character, Trinity, in her room.
Police aimed their guns at Trinity, ordering her to raise her hands.
Remaining calm, Trinity lifted her hands and clasped them behind her head, her posture straight and confident.
This movement accentuated her curves, drawing audible gulps from the audience.
As the officer who had kicked down the door approached her with handcuffs, his cautious expression didn't waver.
But just as he reached to cuff her hands, Trinity struck.
Gasps and exclamations filled the theater.
In a sudden burst of motion, Trinity leaped into the air, the scene slowing into bullet-time, capturing every detail in high-speed photography.
The camera revolved 360 degrees around her, showcasing her airborne kick and flawless physique.
On Martin's left, the Wachowski siblings exchanged smug glances.
Larry couldn't help but glance at Martin again, only to find him leaning close to Nicole with an unreadable expression.
Something seemed... off?
"I kept that leather suit," Nicole whispered in Martin's ear. "I'll wear it for you tonight."
Martin felt a surge of excitement as his hand traced down Nicole's back, slipping beneath the slit of her evening gown.
On-screen, Trinity moved like a panther, her powerful kick sending the burly officer flying into the wall.
The remaining officers raised their guns, ready to shoot, but Trinity launched herself forward. A split second before the trigger was pulled, she propelled herself off the wall, evading the bullets while firing her own weapon.
More officers fell.
When her gun clicked empty, Trinity hurled it at an opponent and leapt into the fray. Like a predator among prey, she dispatched her adversaries with precise and fluid movements, utilizing punches, elbows, legs, feet, and knees.
At one point, an officer managed to grab her from behind. Trinity braced her hands in front of her chest, raising her leg high over her head to strike him in the face.
The officer released her as she turned her momentum into a spinning kick, taking out another opponent.
The sequence was unlike Hollywood's typical back-and-forth brawls. It was swift, clean, and electrifying, setting the audience's adrenaline pumping.
"That was amazing!"
"How can a fight look this elegant?"
"Nicole's moves are stunning!"
The audience was captivated by the innovative choreography, their amazement evident in their enthusiastic applause and cheers.