Chapter 876: Mene's Rise To Stardom!

In a dimly lit studio transformed into an eerie underground restaurant, Sofia Stallone slipped into a specially designed protective suit. The crew had prepared an oversized dinner plate just for her, its cold surface sending a chill through her as she lay down, trying to keep her composure. The plate was enormous, almost surreal, and every detail was meticulously crafted to add to the macabre atmosphere.

As Sofia settled in, a thick, blood-red sauce, prepared with a special blend of tomato and other secret ingredients, was poured over her body. The rich, crimson liquid oozed across her skin, starkly contrasting with her pale complexion, creating a grotesque yet visually stunning effect.

Two makeup artists, their expressions intense and focused, approached with their kits. They began to carefully modify Sofia's appearance, layering cosmetics of various shades of red to enhance the disturbing illusion. Every stroke of the brush and every dab of makeup was aimed at transforming Sofia into something more than human, a horrifying, edible masterpiece.

The set buzzed with energy as the crew finalized the scene. "Done!" one of the makeup artists announced, stepping back to admire their work.

Sofia, despite her best efforts, couldn't help but fidget slightly under the layers of makeup and sauce. Sensing the moment slipping away, David Fincher, the director, raised his voice. "Get ready to shoot!" he commanded, his tone a mix of urgency and calm that only a seasoned director like him could master.

Martin, dressed in a crisp shirt that contrasted sharply with the scene's gory setup, swiftly entered the set. He pushed a gleaming food cart towards Sofia, now fully transformed into a ghastly dish, and stopped beside a cage where Anya Taylor-Joy's character was held captive. The oversized plate, holding Sofia as the main course, was unveiled before Anya's horrified eyes.

As the cameras rolled, the surreal feast unfolded. Martin, embodying his character's malevolent charm, pulled a chair close to the plate and sat down opposite Anya. Picking up the silver cutlery with a practiced hand, he flashed a sinister smile. "Let me introduce you," he began, his voice dripping with malice. "This is our last dinner, a soul-cooking dish!"

Just as he finished the line, Sofia involuntarily twitched on the plate. Martin's eyes flickered with frustration, but before he could react, Fincher's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Stop! Sofia, you need to hold still a little longer."

"Okay," Sofia responded quickly, fighting the discomfort and remaining as still as possible. The makeup artists hurried over, making swift adjustments to ensure the scene's gory perfection was maintained.

This scene, designed to reveal the protagonist's ultimate descent into cruelty, was a testament to David Fincher's unparalleled ability to blend artistry with darkness. The soul-cooking feast was more than just a horror spectacle, it was a twisted display of psychological torment, crafted by Hollywood's master of the macabre.

The shoot dragged on for hours, with Sofia enduring the sticky, uncomfortable sensation of lying motionless on the plate. When Fincher finally called it a wrap, she practically leaped up, her body stiff and aching.

Martin was at her side in an instant, reaching out to help her off the plate. "I must be out of my mind for agreeing to this scene," Sofia groaned, half-joking, as she wiped some of the sauce from her face. "I smell like a giant ketchup bottle exploded all over me."

Martin handed her a towel, a grin playing on his lips. "You do smell a bit... marinated."

Sofia, in desperate need of comfort, spread her arms wide. "Come on, give me a hug. I need some moral support."

Martin chuckled, placing a hand on her forehead to keep her at arm's length. "How about a shower first? Trust me, you don't want to smell like dinner any longer than necessary."

With a mock pout, Sofia conceded, wiping off the remnants of the day's work as she headed out of the studio.

As the crew began to dismantle the set, Martin made his way to the director's monitor, joining David Fincher to review the footage. They watched in silence as the scene played out on the screen, each frame dripping with the dark, artistic beauty that Fincher was known for.

"This soul-cooking scene," Fincher mused, satisfaction evident in his voice, "it has a strange, almost poetic elegance in its bloody cruelty."

Curiosity got the better of Martin. "Where do you come up with this stuff?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

Fincher leaned back, a faint smile on his lips. "This isn't entirely my original idea. I borrowed it, let's say, from some... interesting sources."

Martin frowned slightly, trying to recall where he might have seen something similar. The imagery was unlike anything he'd encountered before, certainly not in mainstream horror like *Hannibal*.

Fincher noticed his confusion and added, almost casually, "Ever heard of Satanism?"

Martin nodded slowly. "Yeah, I've heard of it."

The mention of Satanism brought back fragmented memories, rumors of its influence in Hollywood, stories he had heard from Louise about the dark undercurrents running through the industry. Rumors even suggested that powerful figures, including some in Washington, had ties to such practices. It was said that Mrs. Hillary herself was a supporter.

As the conversation lingered on that unsettling note, Martin couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. This was more than just a film, it was a glimpse into a world where darkness wasn't just a theme but a reality for some.

David Fincher leaned in slightly, his tone taking on a conspiratorial edge. "You know," he began, "soul cooking isn't just some dark fantasy. It's considered a sacrament in Satanism. Of course, in the rituals, the main course isn't an actual human body, it's imitated using other materials. But many people in our circle have indulged in it. Believe it or not, Lady Gaga is probably the most devout follower of Satanism in the entertainment industry. Not only has she introduced her closest friends and family to soul cooking, but she even made a statement by walking the red carpet in that infamous meat dress."

Martin's mind immediately flashed back to the spectacle of Gaga at the MTV Music Awards. "You mean that raw meat dress she wore a few years back?"

Fincher nodded, a slight smirk on his face. "Exactly. While some people chalked it up to a protest against vegetarianism, that's not the truth. The meat dress was actually a form of performance art deeply rooted in Satanic symbolism."

Martin frowned, shaking his head. "That's... unsettling. I've always preferred to keep things straightforward and moral. This kind of stuff feels way too dark for me."

Fincher shrugged, his perspective more detached. "To me, it's all part of the cult mentality. America is a place where cults thrive, each with its own strange beliefs. It's a land of extremes, where no one forces you to accept anything, but you can't deny their existence either."

Their conversation meandered through the twisted paths of Satanism and soul cooking before eventually settling on a more general discussion of cult classics in film and television. Fincher, always thinking a few steps ahead, shared some of his upcoming plans. "I've recently signed a long-term deal with Netflix. In addition to continuing with 'House of Cards,' I've got some other projects lined up."

Martin's curiosity piqued. "What kind of projects are we talking about?"

"Well, I'm developing something that dives into cult themes," Fincher explained, his voice tinged with excitement. "I'm planning an animated series, a collection of short films, really. I'm going to invite several directors to contribute their own segments."

He looked at Martin with a glint in his eye. "If you're interested, I'd love for you to give it a shot."

Martin's mind raced. The mention of an animated series, especially one involving David Fincher and Netflix, immediately brought to mind the cult classic animated anthology *Love, Death & Robots*. "A cult-themed animated series? And you want me to direct a short film for it?" Martin asked, already feeling the gears turning in his creative mind.

Fincher nodded, his smile widening. "Exactly. It's a bit of an experiment, but Netflix is fully on board. I've told them that the directors will have complete creative freedom. The only restriction is the length of the film. Other than that, you can go as wild as you want, cult themes, large-scale violence, blood, sex, horror, it's all fair game."

Martin couldn't help but grin. "That sounds insane, but in the best possible way. I'm definitely interested."

Seeing Martin's enthusiasm, Fincher's passion bubbled to the surface. "I've always believed in breaking away from traditional formats. Mainstream dramas are so tied to that half-hour or one-hour slot, with each episode fitting neatly into the next. I want this series to be different, to prioritize pure entertainment and push the boundaries of what animation can be."

Martin nodded thoughtfully. "I'll need to come up with something truly off-the-wall. Something that's not just non-mainstream but downright wicked. Maybe something like Megatron facing off against Optimus Prime... but with a much darker twist."

Fincher chuckled. "Whatever you want. This is your chance to let your imagination run wild."

As they left the studio, the conversation shifted to their partnership with Netflix. "It sounds like you're really enjoying working with Netflix," Martin remarked as they walked.

Fincher nodded, his expression serious. "Netflix has been incredibly supportive. The best part is the creative freedom they allow me. I was one of the first big-name directors in Hollywood to fully commit to them, and that's given me an edge."

He paused, considering his next words carefully. "You know, the way movies are distributed is going to change because of streaming platforms."

Martin agreed, his tone thoughtful. "The gap between a film's theatrical release and its availability on streaming platforms is going to shrink. Eventually, some films might skip theaters entirely and go straight to streaming."

Fincher nodded. "The Directors Guild had a meeting about this in October. There's a lot of concern that streaming platforms will hurt the traditional film industry. Even I was on the receiving end of some backlash."

Martin leaned back in his chair, his voice carrying a note of conviction. "The industry is always evolving, and each era brings its own changes. Clinging to old ways won't save Hollywood."

David Fincher, ever the realist, gave a small nod. "Just be careful where you say that, especially around Christopher Nolan. He's one of the most vocal opponents of streaming platforms."

Martin chuckled, making a mental note. "I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation drifted to the two directors most known for resisting the shift to streaming: Nolan and Spielberg. Spielberg, once a staunch defender of traditional cinema, had eventually embraced Netflix with surprising enthusiasm, practically singing its praises. Nolan, on the other hand, remained unwavering in his dedication to film and his resistance to streaming. It was part of what made him so distinct, a sort of stubborn integrity that had become a defining trait.

"Maybe every great director has a bit of a stubborn streak," Martin mused.

Fincher smiled knowingly before excusing himself, heading to the office building next door. Meanwhile, Martin made his way to the trailer to remove his makeup and change out of his costume. After a few minutes of waiting, his phone buzzed. It was Mene.

Martin stepped out of the trailer and walked toward the main road of the studio, where Mene was waiting outside a small coffee shop. "Boss, over here," Mene called out, waving him over.

They entered the coffee shop, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. After placing their orders, they settled into a cozy booth by the window. Mene's excitement was palpable as he leaned forward, barely able to contain himself.

"I've pretty much secured the deal with Sony Columbia!" Mene exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I can't thank you enough for recommending me. And getting Johnson on board, thank you for that too."

Martin smiled, letting Mene's gratitude wash over him. He hadn't actually been the one to secure Johnson, but there was no need to correct the assumption. Instead, he steered the conversation back to business. "So, when does the remake of 'Jumanji' kick off?"

Mene took a sip of his coffee before answering. "They're still in the early stages of scriptwriting. Sony Columbia needs to lock in a director and secure the necessary funding. They're aiming to start preparations by mid-next year, with filming likely to begin in 2016."

Martin nodded, understanding the slow-moving nature of big-budget Hollywood productions. Few directors had the capability or the stamina; to churn out blockbusters year after year. Spielberg was a rare exception, producing major films with stunning regularity. Even Nolan, with his meticulous approach, only managed a new project every couple of years.

"You're about to star in two big films back-to-back," Martin reminded Mene, his tone serious. "Make sure you're ready for the pressure."

Mene's expression grew thoughtful, a hint of anxiety creeping in. "Honestly, I'd rather be a supporting actor, like Morgan Freeman. Less pressure, you know?"

Martin suddenly remembered something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind. "By the way, Celine Dion and Rainey don't have any... step-granddaughters, do they?"

Mene laughed, catching the drift of Martin's question. "Don't worry, Boss. Those young girls aren't my type at all. I'm more into women like Celine Dion or Emma Thomas."

Martin nodded, understanding that tastes varied widely. Just as Bruce had a thing for Kim Kardashian, different people were drawn to different things. He couldn't judge.

As the conversation shifted, a more somber thought crossed Martin's mind. Morgan Freeman, once a towering figure in Hollywood, had seen his career falter after the tragic suicide of Michelle Blaine. Freeman had been the one to introduce Martin to Michelle and her circle, and the news of his scandal involving his step-granddaughter, Adina, had shaken the industry to its core. The shockwaves from that revelation were even more profound than those caused by Woody Allen's infamous controversy years ago.

Though Hollywood's foundation was too solid to be seriously shaken by such scandals, times had changed. The social climate was less forgiving, and Freeman had seen a sharp decline in offers for major roles. The once-constant stream of first- and second-tier productions had slowed to a trickle. To save face, Freeman had announced his semi-retirement, retreating from the spotlight that had once been his second home.

Martin considered warning Freeman before the scandal broke, given their past connection, but fate had moved too quickly. Now, he could only watch as another Hollywood legend faded into the shadows.

After the incident, Nicholson sought out Martin directly and made a generous donation to a foundation Martin had established, clearly trying to atone for his involvement. Martin, however, felt it wasn't worth his energy to hold a grudge and let the matter rest.

The scandal surrounding Morgan Freeman, though, unleashed a storm that swept through Hollywood. At least eight actresses came forward, accusing Freeman of sexual harassment. None of them had concrete evidence, but their statements to the media were enough to put Freeman's career in jeopardy. The accusations snowballed, with stories morphing and spreading, much like the rumor-fueled essays Martin had seen countless times in his previous life. It was a stark reminder that the power of words alone could nearly destroy a person's life, even if the accusations were later proven false. In most cases, the accusers faced no consequences for their actions, leaving the accused to pick up the pieces of their shattered reputations.

As they discussed these unfolding events, Mene mentioned, "Celine is planning a party in Los Angeles for Christmas. She's inviting a few friends, and I thought I'd see if you'd be interested."

Martin shook his head, recalling how he'd missed Thanksgiving in Atlanta due to filming commitments. "I didn't make it back for Thanksgiving, and I'm planning to spend Christmas and New Year's in Atlanta with my family."

Mene nodded understandingly. "I'll let Celine know."

Curious, Martin asked, "And how's Rainey doing?"

Mene's expression turned somber. "Not well, I'm afraid. I don't think he has much time left. Once he passes... Celine and I plan to get married."

As they continued their conversation, Emma Thomas walked in, her presence commanding attention. She offered Martin a warm smile before leaving with Mene, the two of them heading off to discuss something privately.

As Martin watched them disappear into the crowd, David Fincher's earlier words about bringing animated short films to life lingered in his mind, sparking an idea. What if he created an animated short film based on Mene's life? Mene's story was practically tailor-made for a dramatic adaptation, full of the kind of twists and turns that could be easily translated into a compelling sci-fi or fantasy narrative. In such a setting, Mene could be portrayed as the classic underdog, a young man who rises against all odds, backed by a powerful alliance of wealthy patrons and influential figures.

The idea stuck with Martin as he left the studio and made his way to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Upon arrival, he found Anya Taylor-Joy waiting for him in a private room. They were scheduled to rehearse scenes for the lead roles they were playing together.

After an intense rehearsal session, Martin handed Anya the finalized script for *The Witch*. The project had reached an exciting stage, funding from Davis Studio was secured, and director Robert Eggers was already deep into pre-production, assembling his crew and preparing for casting. Anya was already confirmed as the lead actress, with Eggers having observed her work on the set of *Split* and fully endorsing Martin's choice.

In contrast, *The Queen's Gambit* was moving at a slower pace. Scott Frank was still deep in the script adaptation process, and it would likely be another six months before filming could even begin, with the earliest start date projected for the latter half of the following year.

Over the next few weeks, Martin threw himself into the production of *Split*. Beyond his responsibilities as the lead actor, he spent considerable time reviewing daily footage and seeking feedback from David Fincher. The chemistry between Martin and Anya, built through numerous rehearsals, paid off, particularly in the film's most crucial scenes, which unfolded with an effortless flow.

By mid-December, the production was nearing its conclusion. Just before Christmas, David Fincher led the crew to an outdoor set at Disney Studios to film a few final scenes, including the pivotal opening sequence where Martin's character kidnaps the girls. With those scenes in the can, the principal photography for *Split* finally drew to a close. The film was nearly complete, and everyone could feel the sense of accomplishment in the air as the holidays approached.