Chapter 840: Los Angeles, Griffith Observatory!

At Griffith Observatory, Los Angeles

Martin stood alone at the edge of the observatory, the city sprawling beneath him, twinkling like a scattered collection of stars. Far in the distance, nestled amidst the dark silhouettes of trees, a mansion's faint lights hinted at life within. He knew what was coming, Ryan Reynolds' party would soon begin.

The Canadian star, who had tasted bitter defeat with the "Green Lantern" fiasco, was determined to make his latest project, 'Deadpool', a roaring success. And tonight's party was a pivotal part of his plan. In a bold move, Reynolds had sold the wedding house he once shared with Scarlett Johansson to fund this extravagant event. But it wasn't just the party that was meticulously planned, Reynolds had gone so far as to secure a rare, priceless gift from Michelle Bryan, something that was bound to catch the attention of a few high-powered executives from Fox.

Martin's thoughts were interrupted as he descended the observatory steps. His bodyguards, ever vigilant, fell in step around him, guiding him to the parking lot where Bruce was just pulling up.

Without a word, Martin slid into the Escalade that Bruce had driven back. As they drove away, several other cars followed, forming a discreet convoy.

Bruce glanced at Martin in the rearview mirror, breaking the silence. "Three options, all set," he said, his voice steady.

"Any concerns about TMZ?" Martin asked, his tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

Bruce shook his head. "Not at all. It's a small but ambitious team. Judy highly recommended them. We didn't go through her directly, but we tipped off the team as a news informant. Their leader, Holding, is sharp and hungry. He won't let a lead like this slip by."

Martin sighed, looking out at the passing city lights. "I'm not sure how effective it will be to use public opinion to force the issue."

Years ago, Michelle Bryan's case had barely made waves, ending with nothing more than a paltry $35,000 fine. Even now, Martin knew that calling the police would likely result in little more than another dead end. If he acted out of pure justice, he risked not just failure, but also drawing unwanted attention to himself.

"If we keep the focus on Michelle, the backlash should be manageable," Bruce reassured him.

Martin nodded, his mind elsewhere. "I haven't thought about anything else. If they want to smear me, if they want to paint me as an addict, there will be consequences. They'll pay for it."

Bruce's voice took on a more serious tone. "The other two options are just contingencies. Hopefully, we won't need them."

Martin's thoughts circled back to the party. "Ryan Reynolds and Michelle Bryan... they're pulling out all the stops to try to resolve this tonight."

---

In the brightly lit mansion, preparations for the party were in full swing. Security personnel meticulously checked the supplies as they arrived, their sharp eyes scanning for anything amiss.

"Don't mess it up," barked a middle-aged man overseeing the operation. "Move everything outside the hall and hand it over to the waiters."

A group of workers unloaded the goods from the cars, passing them to the waiting staff after a quick inspection. The waiters, dressed in crisp white shirts, stood ready. Among them was Holding, the leader of the ambitious TMZ team.

As the supplies were handed over, one of the delivery men caught Holding's eye. The man quickly approached, placing two boxes in front of him. He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "The stuff's in the can. I've marked it."

Holding gave a slight nod, understanding immediately. He picked up the boxes and carried them inside, blending seamlessly into the organized chaos of the party setup. As the others were busy with their tasks, Holding discreetly retrieved the marked cans, removing the tiny cameras hidden within. He swiftly installed them in predetermined locations around the venue, ensuring they were perfectly concealed.

He had received a tip from a reliable source, Ryan Reynolds had planned some "special" gifts for a few top executives from Fox's production department. The source had promised that the night would deliver explosive news.

Ever since joining TMZ, Holding had been biding his time, waiting for the big story that would catapult him above his rivals. In a world where everyone was scrambling to make their mark, Holding knew that breaking a story like this was his ticket to the top.

Who in this cutthroat business didn't dream of being editor-in-chief, or even the chief editor? At TMZ, the ladder to success was clear, but only the boldest and most cunning could climb it. The current chief editor, Judy, had once been just another street paparazzo. But after breaking a series of major stories, she not only secured her promotion but also earned a Pulitzer Prize. Holding had no doubt, this story could be his big break.

The case unfolding before them spurred the TMZ reporters into overdrive. This could be the breakthrough they had been waiting for. Holding, under the guise of a waiter, meticulously placed miniature cameras in several strategic rooms within the villa. He moved quickly, balancing his covert operation with the duties of his assumed role.

As night descended, the atmosphere inside the villa shifted. Ryan Reynolds, the evening's host and Hollywood's charismatic star, arrived with his agent, Cowell. Not long after, three senior executives from 20th Century Fox's production department made their entrance, each greeted with the kind of warmth reserved for people who could make or break careers.

The party began like any other, plenty of food, endless drinks, and conversations that danced around the edges of Hollywood's glittering facade. They talked shop, swapped industry gossip, and indulged in light-hearted banter. Everything seemed normal, at least on the surface.

But as Holding made his rounds, serving drinks and blending into the background, he overheard something that piqued his interest. The conversation had turned to Martin Davis, a name that carried weight in the industry. The group was laughing, recounting rumors about Davis and Elizabeth Olsen.

"People say Elizabeth is a bit of an oddball," one of the executives chuckled. "Just because Martin saved her life during that Burbank incident, she lets him do whatever he wants, as long as it's not in her house or right in front of her."

Holding's ears perked up. Martin Davis was a figure he admired, almost idolized. The idea of someone like Davis having that kind of influence, being able to live by his own rules, only deepened Holding's envy and respect.

The moment was interrupted when Cowell received a call. After a brief exchange, he nodded at Ryan, signaling it was time. Ryan stood up and addressed the head waiter with a casual authority, "We don't need any staff here for the rest of the evening. Please move to the auxiliary building and wait there until I give further instructions."

The head waiter didn't hesitate, immediately directing the staff to leave. As Holding followed the others out of the villa, he caught sight of a business car parked discreetly near the entrance. His curiosity flared, but with the foreman urging him to keep moving, he reluctantly tore his gaze away and followed the group into the auxiliary building.

Inside, silence fell. Then, as if on cue, the door of the business car opened, and three young women were escorted into the villa. Holding could only watch as they disappeared from view. Ryan Reynolds had clearly spared no expense in securing these "party favors," leaving the Fox executives more than satisfied.

Promises were exchanged. The executives, swayed by the evening's lavish entertainment, assured Ryan that they would do everything in their power to push the 'Deadpool' project forward. Ryan's smile was one of victory; to him, every penny spent had been justified.

As for the three girls? Their thoughts and feelings were irrelevant to everyone present. They were simply tools, pawns in a game that catered to the whims of the powerful. In this world, the upper echelons never concerned themselves with the lives of those below. Like disposable commodities, there was always an endless supply, flowing in from across Latin America and beyond.

Once the party concluded, Ryan saw the executives off, exchanged a few words with Cowell, and then left the villa. The foreman, ever efficient, led the waitstaff back inside to clean up the aftermath of the night's debauchery.

Holding worked swiftly, his movements precise and deliberate. He collected a few remaining "special" items, but his real prize was the miniature cameras he had placed earlier. One by one, he retrieved them, careful to maintain his cover as just another diligent worker.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that their work was done. The villa was clean, the guests were gone, and the waitstaff were finally dismissed. Holding wasted no time. He hopped into a rented car and sped off to the agreed-upon rendezvous point, where his team was waiting.

He pulled into a secluded parking lot and quickly transferred to an SUV where his colleagues, Barrett and Tucker, were waiting. As they drove away, Barrett couldn't contain his curiosity.

"Did it work? Did we get anything?" he asked, glancing over at Holding.

Holding briefly checked the footage on the camera, nodding with cautious optimism. "We got some footage. We'll have to analyze it closely when we get back."

Tucker, riding shotgun, was more skeptical. "Are we sure there's something here? Even if they had a wild party, it's not exactly earth-shattering news in Hollywood. We might just end up making enemies for no reason."

Holding's mind raced. "If it's just a run-of-the-mill party, then yeah, this might be a dead end. And I'll eat the cost. But..." He paused, holding up the camera with a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "My instincts and the clues we've picked up, tell me that something big went down in that villa tonight. We could be sitting on a bombshell."

Barrett slammed his foot on the gas, the SUV roaring down the empty streets as it raced toward TMZ headquarters. The city lights blurred by, a sharp contrast to the darkness of their thoughts. "Let's just hope the higher-ups don't bury this," Barrett muttered, his voice tight with anticipation. "Or worse, sell the story back to the people we're trying to expose."

Holding leaned back, a confident smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry about that. As soon as we confirm the footage, I'm going straight to the business editor. TMZ thrives on stories like this. It's exactly what we've been trained to hunt for."

Tucker, sitting in the passenger seat, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, if there's any outlet that won't shy away from exposing the dirt in Hollywood, it's TMZ."

The SUV screeched to a halt outside the towering TMZ headquarters, the engine still rumbling as the three men jumped out and dashed inside. Despite the late hour, the building buzzed with activity; lights blazed from numerous offices, casting a harsh glow on the determined faces within.

Holding rushed to his workstation, fingers flying across the keyboard as he powered up his computer. The miniature camera he'd hidden at the villa was swiftly connected, the screen flickering to life as the footage began to play. At first, the scenes were mundane, just the usual party chatter and background noise. Holding fast-forwarded, his pulse quickening as he waited for something substantial.

Then, the screen showed the moment the three women were led into the living room. Barrett's eyes widened in shock. "What the hell are these bastards thinking?" he blurted out, disbelief coloring his voice.

Tucker shook his head in disgust, his jaw clenched. "Typical Hollywood scum. They think they're untouchable."

The footage left nothing to the imagination. It showed Ryan Reynolds, not just the charming star, but a man willing to barter human lives to curry favor with the powerful Fox executives. They were all there, indulging in their twisted game, Reynolds included.

Holding's blood boiled as he watched. He slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "I don't care if the editorial department tries to bury this. I'll leak it myself if I have to!"

Tucker's anger mirrored Holding's. "Damn right. These guys don't deserve to keep walking around like nothing happened."

Barrett, though more seasoned in the gritty realities of their job, remained silent, his face drawn. He'd seen too much of this filth in his time, but it never got any easier.

As the footage continued, Holding checked the feeds from the other cameras. Two of them had nothing of note, just more bland party scenes. But one captured a similar vile exchange, confirming the depth of what they had uncovered.

The clarity of the footage was astounding, the angles, the audio, everything was crystal clear. Holding knew they had struck gold. He turned to Tucker, clapping him on the shoulder. "Clean it up and get it ready for upload."

Tucker didn't hesitate. He dove into the task, editing the video with a sharp eye and steady hands.

As he worked, Barrett couldn't help but ask, "So, where did those girls end up?"

Holding pulled out his phone, his brow furrowing as he checked the latest message. "The informant left an address."

Barrett's gaze narrowed with suspicion. "You don't find this all a bit too convenient? Feels like someone's setting us up, using us as pawns."

Holding sighed, the weight of the truth settling over him. "Of course we're being used. I don't know who's pulling the strings, and I probably never will. But think about it, this might be our only shot. If we let it slip by, we could be waiting years for another opportunity like this. Hell, we might never get another chance."

He paused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You've been in this business longer than me, Barrett. You know how hard it is to move up, to break out of the rut. Tucker, Barrett, do you really want to spend the rest of your lives as just another pair of faceless reporters, scraping by on a salary that barely covers the bills?"

Tucker, who had been quietly working, finally spoke up, his voice filled with frustration. "I'm sick of it. We bust our asses, we follow the rules, and where does it get us? Meanwhile, these assholes in the video, no morals, no conscience, just greed, they live like kings. And we're stuck with car loans, mortgages, medical bills, insurance... it's all crushing us."

Barrett, who felt the weight of these struggles even more acutely with a family to support, nodded slowly. The words hit home.

Holding's eyes burned with conviction. "Exposing this isn't just about doing the right thing. It's about taking our shot, about finally getting the recognition we deserve. We're journalists, damn it. We chase the truth. And if we can finally get ahead while doing it, all the better."

Barrett sighed deeply, the reality of their situation settling in. "Alright. Let's do it."

With that, Tucker completed the final edits, attaching a compelling headline to the video. He hit the upload button, sending the explosive footage into the ether, where it would soon spread like wildfire.

Holding didn't waste a second. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number for Judy, the business editor-in-chief, ready to push the story to the top. This was their moment, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.

The phone barely rang before it was answered, the line crackling with faint sounds of heavy breathing. Holding hesitated for a second, then pushed forward. "Boss, I've got something huge to report…"

On the other end, Judy's voice cut through the noise, breathless but authoritative. "Hold on, Old Bull. Give me a minute." The panting ceased as she composed herself. "Alright, go ahead."

Holding didn't waste a second, launching into a quick, detailed account of the explosive footage they had just captured. As he spoke, he made a silent vow: if Judy tried to suppress this story, he'd bypass her and leak it to every media outlet he could reach.

But Judy didn't let him down. After a brief moment of silence, she responded with a sharp, decisive tone. "Get it published immediately. I'll log in and review it now. Don't waste any time."

Holding clenched his fist in victory. "Uploading as we speak."

As the call ended, Judy glanced at Bruce, who was sprawled on the couch in front of her, catching his breath. She shot him a wry smile. "Well, Bruce, it looks like you'll need to put in some extra effort tonight. We wouldn't want Martin's plan to fall apart, now would we?"

Bruce scowled, feeling a surge of irritation. "Is that a threat?" He shot up, his muscles tensing with frustration. He wasn't about to let anyone use Martin against him. He moved with an intensity that matched his anger, though the sudden motion caused a sharp pain to shoot through his pelvis, making him wince.

Judy, unfazed by his outburst, stretched languidly before sauntering over to her desk. She flipped open her laptop and logged into TMZ's backend, her expression all business now.

Bruce leaned over her shoulder, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Hasn't he uploaded it yet?"

"Patience," Jody replied, her fingers tapping rapidly on the keys. "It's not instant, you know."

Bruce's tone softened, tinged with concern. "You're sure this won't come back to bite us?"

Judy's smile was almost predatory. "If there's fallout, it'll land on those three eager reporters. I didn't send them out; they chased this story down on their own. My role is simple, I review and approve what they bring in."

She paused, a sudden thought crossing her mind. "Oh, and one more thing. Given the severity of the potential crimes involved, it's only fitting that I, a Pulitzer Prize winner, notify the authorities. Can't have them accusing us of withholding information, now can we?"

Bruce nodded, silently impressed by how smoothly Judy navigated the ethical gray areas of their business.

As they spoke, a notification popped up on Judy's screen. The footage had been uploaded. She clicked on it, her face growing serious as the video played. Bruce watched alongside her, their expressions darkening with every passing second.

Once it finished, Judy wasted no time. She immediately locked the video onto TMZ's homepage, ensuring it would dominate the headlines. She then grabbed her phone and dialed a number from memory.

An FBI contact answered, his voice gruff with curiosity. "Judy? What's going on?"

"You might want to take a look at the latest TMZ headline," she replied, her tone brisk. "We've got something big, a potential crime. I'm letting you know first, but public opinion will explode once this hits."

The voice on the other end sharpened. "How explosive are we talking?"

"See for yourself," Judy said, keeping her tone neutral, though her eyes gleamed with the thrill of breaking a major story.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. "I'm going to need the full version of that video. And details, what exactly happened?"

Judy played dumb, maintaining her cover. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. My team got the scoop, uploaded it, and called me in. I'm just finding out about this now."

The contact wasn't satisfied. "I need to know more. Where are you? Can you get to TMZ headquarters? We need to meet within the hour."

Judy agreed without hesitation. "I'll be there."

True to their word, an FBI team descended on TMZ headquarters within the hour. They moved with military precision, heading straight to Judy's office. Under her guidance, they conducted a thorough interview with Holding and his team, extracting every detail they could.

Holding, ever the opportunist, offered new leads but made it clear that TMZ would document the entire process. The FBI, keen on cooperation, agreed without argument.

As dawn began to break, the FBI launched a raid on a warehouse at the Santa Monica Yacht Marina. They rescued three girls and several other women, taking down armed guards in the process. The operation was swift and brutal, leaving no room for escape.

Ryan Reynolds and the three Fox executives were served subpoenas almost immediately. The evidence was damning, everything pointed directly to Michelle Bryan, a name that carried weight but now hung by a thread.

When TMZ's story broke, the internet ignited like dry tinder. Within hours, public opinion had reached a fever pitch. TMZ, alongside the FBI, stormed Michelle Bryan's mansion, catching her off guard and taking her into custody.

It was clear to anyone watching that this was no ordinary scandal. The implications were enormous, and Michelle Bryan was at the center of it all. But those who knew the game understood one thing, Michelle knew too much, and in this world, people like her weren't allowed to speak.

The storm gathered strength rapidly, and those caught in it would soon learn just how unforgiving the winds of justice could be.