**Chapter 61: Battle-Hardened**

Nicolas Flynn was chewing gum, trying to quit smoking—a task that was proving to be anything but easy.

At least the gum provided a temporary distraction, though its effectiveness was minimal—

He could still pick up on the whispers and murmurs around him, like crickets holding a symphony.

Looking around, there were about a hundred reporters gathered outside Stage 24. It wasn't a huge crowd compared to the buzz surrounding Brad and Jennifer, but they were well-equipped, seasoned veterans, each worth two of the average reporter. The atmosphere was different—more like a seasoned squad ready for battle.

They appeared relaxed, chatting and laughing, as if they were there for a casual outing rather than a news chase.

Nicolas wasn't surprised—

A newcomer, a rookie, a greenhorn.

Someone who's probably never faced this kind of onslaught before. All they had to do was apply a bit of pressure, crowd him slightly, and the young man would likely crumble, lose his composure, and in the panic, not only spill the truth but possibly even reveal something explosive.

Compared to Brad and Jennifer, this was the best point of entry. They regretted not exploiting this weak spot earlier; if they had, they might have already secured an exclusive by ambushing the young man at his home yesterday, avoiding this morning's rush to squeeze in with everyone else.

The chatter buzzed louder, and from the laughter and smiles, it was clear how relaxed everyone was. They even joked about not pushing too hard, lest they scare the kid into tears, leaving him traumatized. "Then, we'd be misunderstood as the big bad wolf."

The crowd burst into laughter.

It wasn't just relaxed; it was practically a party.

As a veteran entertainment reporter for *The New York Times*, Nicolas had been in the industry for years, and like his colleagues, he was at ease.

Perhaps the only thing they needed to be wary of was a manager.

If the young man showed up with a manager or PR person who took control of all statements, things could get tricky—likely leading to a boring string of "no comments."

According to the current intel, the kid still didn't have a manager.

But who knows?

This is Hollywood, after all. Maybe a sharp-eyed manager had seized the opportunity just yesterday, rushing in to represent the kid.

It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened.

Then again, if a manager did step in, wouldn't that only raise suspicions? Just like a criminal suspect who insists on having a lawyer present during questioning—it looks suspicious even if they're innocent. And they weren't the police; they didn't need evidence or confessions—a hint of suspicion was enough.

In other words, regardless of the situation, the reporters held the upper hand.

Nicolas chewed his gum, mentally drafting his report, considering how to cover the story if the young man appeared with a manager, and how to follow up afterward. This gossip wasn't likely to die down soon; he shouldn't let Brad and Jennifer slip away too easily.

Just then—

The roar of an engine grew closer.

The chatter at the studio entrance quieted slightly, as the reporters, though still relaxed in their demeanor, instinctively shifted their focus, their experienced senses on high alert.

They wouldn't miss a single movement.

But.

An Aston Martin?

Nicolas paused, momentarily puzzled, unable to recall anyone from the *Friends* cast driving an Aston Martin. His mind was filled with question marks.

"Wait, could it be David Crane's new ride?"

Golden sunlight flowed over the sleek body of the Aston Martin, its sharp yet elegant lines offering a visual feast.

The car approached Stage 24, gracefully arcing into the parking lot—

Typically, the Warner Bros. studio lot has various parking areas for staff to leave their vehicles. After parking, they would use golf carts to move around the set.

This was done to avoid traffic congestion and prevent accidents.

But over the years, as *Friends* became increasingly successful, the studio expanded to include additional sets built across two neighboring soundstages. The space grew, and Warner Bros. eventually designated a nearby plot as a parking lot.

This made commuting significantly more convenient for the cast and crew.

And so, the scene unfolding now became possible.

*Click. Click. Click.*

Questions swirled in Nicolas's mind. The reporters were unsure what to make of the Aston Martin. Perhaps it belonged to a cast member from another production or a producer from a different show.

But still, they instinctively clicked their shutters, capturing the moment—better safe than sorry.

The sound was brief but intense.

Nicolas was no exception, snapping three shots before stopping—

Saving film.

Since the early 1990s, digital cameras had been introduced to the market, rapidly evolving over the next decade and making a significant breakthrough in 1998.

Not only had they become smaller and more advanced, but the advent of memory sticks transformed digital cameras entirely. Combined with a noticeable drop in prices, their popularity soared.

However, by 2000, digital cameras were only just reaching the two-megapixel range—a huge leap for the average consumer, but still insufficient for professionals.

Despite their bulk, professional cameras remained the tool of choice for media personnel. To avoid potential mishaps, they might carry a digital camera as a backup. But before digital cameras, every photographer had at least two or three professional cameras, and film was still king.

At that moment, Nicolas was fully equipped like a mountaineer—holding one professional camera, with another hanging around his neck.

Saving film wasn't about the cost; it was about avoiding the risk of running out of film at a critical moment and missing the shot.

More curious about the driver than the car itself, Nicolas watched closely.

*Click.*

The car door opened, and a long leg emerged, followed quickly by the rest of the figure stepping out of the driver's seat.

*Click. Click.*

Nicolas's professional instincts kicked in, and he snapped two more shots. Then, equally instinctively, he paused to focus on identifying the person.

Around him, the rapid-fire clicks of shutters and the flash of cameras momentarily filled the air before falling silent again, returning to an eerie calm.

There was a mix of confusion, scrutiny, curiosity, and a hint of admiration.

Emotions clashed and mingled, creating a brief but palpable silence outside Stage 24.

Then—

All eyes were drawn to the figure, some out of confusion, others in surprise. The stark contrast and sudden impact left everyone momentarily stunned, their minds blank, as if time itself had slipped into a gap, freezing everything in place.

Battle-hardened veterans—yet this?