Chapter 871: The God of Acting!

The Avalon Bar buzzed with an electric energy that night, the air thick with anticipation as clusters of people gathered, all eager to witness the spectacle about to unfold. It was the kind of evening where the more eyes on you, the greater the pressure to perform or in some cases, to embarrass yourself unless, of course, you were part of the infamous trio who seemed utterly immune to shame.

Suddenly, Johnson found himself hoisted into the air, his feet leaving the sticky bar floor. Ray Park, ever the loyal friend, was right there beside him, his grip firm on Johnson's arm. Unlike the star-studded Johnson, Ray didn't have to worry about his image. His most famous roles, Darth Maul and the Masked Man, had kept his face hidden behind masks. But tonight, his loyalty was on full display as he tugged Johnson's muscular arm, a silent message to make a swift exit.

Johnson, confused but not wanting to lose face, caught Ray's hint. He straightened, gave a slight nod to Martin and his companions, and began to retreat, his dignity barely intact. However, Martin wasn't about to let things go so easily. The other party had yet to apologize to Alexandra, and Martin wasn't one to let such slights slide.

Just as Martin was about to intervene, he noticed Nicholson giving him a sly wink. Over the years, the trio had developed an almost telepathic understanding of each other's devious plans. Martin instantly recognized the mischief brewing in Nicholson's mind and discreetly nudged Leonardo with his foot, signaling him to stay put.

With a devilish grin, Nicholson stepped forward, blocking Johnson's path. "Big guy, where's your respect? You can't even muster up an apology? Or are you so shameless that you've forgotten what that word means?" Nicholson's words were like a match to gasoline, and Johnson's temper ignited.

Like many young Hollywood stars, Johnson harbored a deep disdain for the older generation who, in his eyes, were past their prime. After all, who among the rising stars wanted to be overshadowed by a bunch of has-beens?

But Nicholson, ever the cunning provocateur, knew exactly how to push buttons. He was infamous for his antics, once even pulling a stunt that involved smearing butter on Marlon Brando's coffin. Tonight, his target was Johnson. "You can go," Nicholson taunted, "but leave your pride at the door."

Johnson had never been one to care about winning Oscars or rubbing elbows with Hollywood's old guard. He just wanted to leave. But as he reached out to shove Nicholson aside, he made a grave miscalculation.

Nicholson, the wily old fox, wasn't hailed as the leader of the bastard trio for nothing. As Johnson's hand approached, Nicholson expertly shrank back, his movements smooth and calculated, a testament to his decades of acting mastery. The push, meant for Nicholson's shoulder, instead landed squarely on his face, and Johnson had used a considerable amount of force.

"Oh my, my head!" Nicholson exclaimed, his voice dripping with melodrama. He staggered as if the blow had rattled him to his core. "I feel dizzy... I can't stand… I can't stand..." And with that, Nicholson collapsed.

Martin was instantly at his side, catching Nicholson as he fell. His own acting skills kicked into high gear as he cried out, "Jack? Jack, can you hear me?" His voice rising in panic. "Somebody call an ambulance!"

Leonardo, ever the quick thinker, whipped out his cell phone and dialed 911, his expression grave.

Johnson stood frozen, staring at his hand in disbelief. Yes, he'd used some force, but not enough to knock a man out cold. Ray Park, equally bewildered, looked from Nicholson to Johnson, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Meanwhile, Martin cradled Nicholson, who had gone completely limp in his arms. Nicholson's commitment to the act was total, his body a dead weight. Anyone who has ever held a sleeping baby knows just how heavy a truly relaxed body can be.

Leonardo was still on the phone, speaking urgently into the receiver, his eyes darting between his two partners-in-crime and the unsuspecting Johnson.

The scene had escalated far beyond what Johnson could have imagined. What started as a night out at the Avalon Bar had turned into a masterclass in manipulation, courtesy of the bastard trio.

Lorraine had been part of the trio's antics for long enough to know when to act fast. As soon as Nicholson hit the ground, she thrust her phone into Margot Robbie's hands and sprinted toward Johnson, her voice cutting through the bar's noise like a blade. "What the hell did you do to my dad?"

Johnson stammered, clearly rattled by the sudden accusation. "I...I... I didn't mean to! I just wanted to push him away! I didn't think... I didn't expect this!"

Lorraine's eyes bore into him, fierce and unyielding. "This isn't over, Johnson. Not by a long shot."

Meanwhile, Alexandra, looking pale, rushed to Martin's side, her gaze fixed on the seemingly unconscious Nicholson sprawled on the floor. Her voice trembled with worry. "Is he okay? What should we do?"

Martin, ever the calm orchestrator, raised his voice to address the gathering crowd. "Everyone, stay calm! Don't panic! Spread out! We need to keep the air circulating here."

Nicholson, who was tall and heavyset with his signature belly, was far too cumbersome for Martin to hold onto for long. With a resigned grunt, Martin laid him flat on the cold, unforgiving floor. Inside, Nicholson seethed, cursing Martin a thousand times over for not holding him up properly. If only he could, he would have jumped up right then and socked Martin in the jaw. But the show had to go on.

Lorraine stepped in front of Johnson, effectively blocking his escape. Leonardo DiCaprio and Margot Robbie moved among the crowd, urging onlookers to give space, their celebrity status helping to keep the chaos at bay.

Johnson and Ray Park knew they were trapped, with too many eyes on them to simply flee. They exchanged anxious glances and began making frantic phone calls, the gravity of the situation settling in. Johnson, more than anyone, realized the potential fallout if anything happened to Nicholson.

Martin, observing the scene, shook his head. He had anticipated trouble from Nicholson, but even he hadn't expected the old rascal to pull off a scam this elaborate. Still, he had to play along. "Jack, hang in there! Can you hear me? Stay with us, Jack!"

Leonardo and Lorraine crouched down beside Nicholson, adding to the dramatic tableau. Lorraine, a former actor, conjured tears with ease, her eyes glistening with apparent concern. The bar's security and management staff rushed in, trying to maintain some semblance of order as the situation spiraled out of control.

Then, the sound of ambulance sirens filled the air, growing louder as they neared. The paramedics wasted no time, pushing through the crowd and rushing into the bar. Lorraine accompanied Nicholson to the ambulance, her face a mask of worry, while Margot Robbie, not keen on getting too deeply involved, quickly made her exit under the pretext of urgent business elsewhere.

As the ambulance sped away, Martin, Leonardo, and Alexandra piled into a car to follow. Inside, Alexandra was wracked with guilt, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry... I had no idea it would come to this. If it wasn't for me..."

Martin squeezed her hand gently, his voice reassuring. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

Leonardo couldn't help but chuckle, the corners of his mouth curling up. "Leave it to Jack, the two-time Oscar winner, to pull off such a convincing performance. His acting was flawless."

Alexandra blinked in surprise. "Wait, are you saying Jack was acting? He's not really hurt?"

Martin shrugged nonchalantly. "Jack's just bored, I think."

Leonardo nodded knowingly. "He originally planned to mess with Martin, but let's face it, messing with one of your own isn't half as fun as getting someone else involved."

Alexandra, still new to the trio's twisted sense of humor, found the whole thing bizarre.

As they approached the hospital, Martin leaned forward and said to Bruce, who was driving, "When we get there, call your girlfriend."

Bruce, knowing full well that Lorraine had recorded everything on video, nodded. "Will do."

Leonardo chuckled. "Jack's really pulled a fast one this time."

No one in the car, not even Martin, believed that Nicholson would actually take the stunt as far as it had gone.

At the hospital, the paramedics whisked Nicholson directly to the emergency center. It wasn't long before a doctor emerged with an update. "Mr. Nicholson has regained consciousness, but he's complaining of dizziness. We recommend keeping him overnight for observation."

Martin had expected as much. The human brain is a complicated organ, and dizziness or headaches can be tough to diagnose, especially with someone as tricky as Nicholson.

Leonardo and Lorraine went off to handle the admission paperwork, making sure Nicholson was transferred to a luxury ward. While they were at it, Lorraine ran into Jodie, who had just arrived, adding another layer of intrigue to the night.

The latter handed over a tidy sum and walked out with a copy of the bar's surveillance video, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he did so.

Inside the private hospital ward, Bruce discreetly ushered the doctors and nurses out, ensuring no prying eyes remained. With a click, he turned off the monitoring system, casting the room into a tense, expectant silence.

Nicholson groaned as he slowly sat up, wincing as he rubbed his lower back. "You absolute bastard," he barked at Martin. "You left me lying on that cold, hard floor! I've half a mind to sue you for the backache I'm nursing."

Martin, ever the quick wit, shot back with a smirk, "Hey, I was just playing along with your brilliant performance! Your acting was so top-notch, I had to give you the room to shine."

He added with a flourish, "Even on that cold, unforgiving floor, you managed to embody the role of a fainted old man to perfection! You should be thanking me, Jack. I just helped remind everyone that Jack Nicholson is still the best actor in Hollywood."

Leonardo, leaning against the wall with a grin, chimed in, "Martin's right, Jack. He was just playing his part. I fully back him up!"

Alexandra, who had been quietly observing this bizarre exchange, couldn't believe what she was hearing. She watched the three men, wondering how such lunacy had become their norm.

Nicholson slowly stood up, still rubbing his back. "You think I should thank you? For letting me perform on that ice-cold floor? Maybe I should return the favor."

Martin waved him off, a mischievous glint in his eye. "No need, boss. It's all in a day's work."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Bruce crossed the room, opened it, and let Lorraine in.

Martin raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. "So, how much pocket money did you rake in this time?"

Lorraine flashed a sly smile. "Not much, not much." She turned to Alexandra, holding out a small bundle of cash. "I'll split it with you, fifty-fifty."

Alexandra, still reeling from the madness of it all, smiled politely and shook her head. "No need. Keep it."

Leonardo stretched, his curiosity piqued. "So, what's our next move?"

Martin, who had already discussed the plan with Alexandra on the drive over, laid it out smoothly. "The video goes to TMZ. The narrative will be that Johnson was harassing women. Alexandra, you might want to post a few things on social media to help the story along."

Alexandra, still fuming from the night's events and with Martin's backing, nodded firmly. "I'll accuse him on social media. He won't get away with this."

Nicholson, not one to be left out of the spotlight for long, let out a few theatrical coughs, drawing all eyes back to him. He leaned back against the pillows, a hand dramatically pressed to his forehead. "Oh, my head... The dizziness is coming back. And these hospital bills are going to be through the roof. If I'm not in the right mood, I might never recover..."

Leonardo rolled his eyes, laughing. "Jack, you can drop the act. There's no audience here."

Nicholson peeked out from under his hand, grinning. "Just trying to make sure you all appreciate the gravity of my condition. But seriously, I expect some compensation for my pain and suffering."

Martin shrugged, playing along. "Well, better call your lawyer. He's the expert in this area, not us."

Nicholson nodded, still in character. "Good idea."

Lorraine immediately pulled out her phone and dialed Nicholson's lawyer, while Nicholson groaned and clutched his head again, leaning into his role as the injured party. The truth was, no one could say for sure what was going on in Nicholson's brain, but it didn't hurt to play the angle.

Meanwhile, over at the WMA headquarters, Johnson was pacing back and forth in the lobby, the anxiety clear in every step. The alcohol he'd consumed earlier had finally sweated out of his system, leaving him more sober and far more worried, than before.

He had used every connection he had to get updates on Nicholson's condition from the hospital, and the news wasn't good. Word was that Nicholson was still suffering from dizziness and headaches. What had started as a night of fun had quickly spiraled into a situation that could become very troublesome indeed.

Johnson's agent, Raymond, hurried in, his face a mask of concern. Spotting Johnson, he wasted no time getting to the point. "What the hell happened? How did you end up in a conflict with Martin?"

Johnson, desperate to explain himself, shook his head. "I wasn't in a conflict with Martin. It's just... It's all a misunderstanding." He quickly recounted the events, trying to downplay his role. "I just wanted to invite Alexandra Daddario to be part of a project. That's all."

Raymond, who had been navigating the tricky waters of Hollywood for more than a decade, listened carefully. With a practiced eye, he pieced together the truth from Johnson's words and his own understanding of the actor's personality. It didn't take long for him to figure out what had really gone down.

Raymond sighed, clearly exasperated. "Why on earth would you go after Alexandra, of all people? Haven't you seen the endless rumors swirling around her and Martin online and in the tabloids? And you know how the bastard trio operates, they always have each other's backs. If you cross Nicholson, you can bet Leonardo and Martin won't just stand by."

Johnson rubbed his bald head in frustration. "Well, it's too late to change what's done."

Raymond, ever the strategist, thought for a moment before speaking. "You need to get your manager and lawyer here ASAP. We need to figure out a way to handle this, and fast. The longer we wait, the worse it'll get. And remember, if it's a problem money can solve, it's not really a problem."

He pulled out his phone, already dialing. "I'll call Ari, see if he can help mediate this mess."

Johnson planted his hands on his hips, exhaling deeply, the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

Just as Raymond ended the call, his assistant rushed in, her face tense. "TMZ just released a video. They're saying Dwayne Johnson harassed Alexandra Daddario and assaulted Jack Nicholson at the Avalon Bar."

Raymond's face tightened with concern. "I see. Let's head to the office."

Inside, they quickly sat down at the computer, pulling up the TMZ website. The headline blared from the homepage: *Dwayne Johnson Harasses Alexandra Daddario, Nicholson Stops Him from Attacking Her.*

With a grim expression, Johnson clicked on the video. The footage played out in a damning sequence: Nicholson stepping in to confront Johnson, followed by Johnson shoving the older man to the ground. The clip was edited to paint Nicholson as the hero and Johnson as a drunken aggressor.

Johnson's frown deepened as he watched, knowing the truth was far more complicated, but also knowing how this looked to the public. Below the video, the comment section was already ablaze with condemnation.

"I never thought Dwayne Johnson was this kind of person."

"He assaulted a man in his seventies! This guy's a real piece of work."

"Just heard that Nicholson's in the hospital. Someone saw Martin and Leonardo there, looking really worried. It doesn't sound good."

"How could an elderly man possibly withstand a hit like that from Johnson?"

"Doesn't anyone care that this all started because Johnson was harassing a woman?"

The comments quickly turned into a rallying cry for feminist advocates, the narrative spiraling completely out of control.

Johnson's face darkened. "Is there any way to get this taken down?"

Raymond shook his head, his voice heavy. "TMZ headlines don't get pulled. Once they're out, they're out. We need to launch an emergency PR campaign and get in touch with Nicholson as soon as possible."

Johnson nodded, grim but resolute.

Within hours, Johnson's legal team and management were on the scene, but the situation was already unraveling. Attempts to smooth things over hit brick walls. TMZ flatly refused to retract the story. Lorraine, Nicholson's daughter, declined any immediate interviews, citing her father's poor health. Alexandra, meanwhile, ignored Johnson's calls altogether, instead posting on social media. Her posts detailed the events leading up to the video, sticking to the facts but framing Johnson's behavior in the worst possible light.

Meanwhile, Ari Emanuel, the influential agent, had already reached out to Martin. Martin's response was firm and unapologetic. "Jack is not just a colleague; he's my friend and my greatest mentor in acting. He's lying in a hospital bed, suffering from dizziness and headaches, and he can't even recognize me or Leo."

This year was a contract year for Martin, and as WME's top client, his importance was undeniable. Ari Emanuel didn't need to think twice about where his loyalties lay.

WME's emergency PR team scrambled, but by then, it was too late. Night had fallen, and many of their key players were already off work. By the time morning came, Johnson found himself at the center of a firestorm. Not only was he dealing with the fallout from Nicholson's injury, but he was also facing an onslaught from feminist activists, their attacks relentless and fierce.

Left with little choice, Johnson followed Raymond's advice. He needed to find a way to reconcile and do it quickly, or risk further damage to his career and reputation.