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The Most Famous Actor in Hollywood

Knock! Dang! Knock--   A sharp knock on the door suddenly rang in his ears, followed by a man's urgent voice coming through the door, "Matthew, why did you kick the makeup artist out? The director and the female lead are already in place, the entire crew is waiting for you, the male lead, you still have fifteen minutes!" ----------------------- It's 1 chapter per day at 1 p.m. (Arizona) in every novel I upload. 3 daily chapters in each novel on patreon! p@treon.com/INNIT ----------------------- DISCLAIMER The story belongs entirely to the original author.

INIT · セレブリティ
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378 Chs

Chapter 125: Hesitation

The training began once again, with the instructor responsible for Matthew's squad leading them into a constructed training area to guide them on the most basic urban special operations considerations. The instructor, coming from the Delta Force, was truly a professional.

"James!" The instructor stood in the middle of the street, shouting at the actors dispersed into several groups, "Is that supposed to be concealment? Crouch down! Lower!"

This thirty-something-year-old instructor seemed to find training Hollywood actors quite interesting, becoming fully invested in his work. In just a few days, he had become familiar with Matthew and James McAvoy's squad, even managing to remember everyone's names.

The training involved simulating operations from the past, requiring Matthew and the other actors to advance towards a small building from different directions using specified tactical movements.

Despite not wearing helmets and most of their gear due to the weight, the actors looked a bit more like soldiers after several days of training.

The instructor constantly observed from the middle of the street, pointing out their shortcomings, "Ben! Ben Foster, watch where you're pointing your gun! You're aiming at Matthew's head! Are you trying to assassinate your superior?"

Matthew, crouching behind a low building, looked back to see Ben Foster holding his gun at an upward angle, its barrel pointing directly at his head.

"Hey, Ben!"

This wasn't a shoot, Matthew joked, "You're about to become the weakest link."

Ben Foster quickly adjusted his gun-holding posture, muttering, "This is my first time undergoing such training, unlike you and James, who are veterans."

"Charge!" The instructor's voice suddenly rang out, "Charge!"

Matthew darted out, crouching as he ran towards the small building, with Ben Foster following closely in his group.

"Lower your posture!" The instructor shouted again, emphasizing the tactical movement, "Everyone, lower your posture!"

Matthew further lowered his stance as he approached the front of the small building, taking cover behind a not-so-tall brick wall. He gave Ben Foster behind him a tactical hand signal. Ben, crouching, moved towards a cover in front but tripped over something on the ground.

Ben Foster's body swayed, and he crashed towards the brick wall in front of Matthew, right where the wall's sharp edge was.

Had he actually hit it, Ben Foster would have definitely suffered a severe head injury.

Matthew saw it clearly but Ben fell too quickly for him to grab hold of him. In a rush, Matthew extended his hand, pushing Ben slightly, altering his fall's trajectory.

Bang—

Ben Foster fell to the ground, almost hitting the brick wall, and then groaned.

Matthew put down his weapon, interrupting the training, and hurried over to ask, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Ben Foster, visibly shaken, checked himself over and assured Matthew, "I'm okay! Everything's fine."

Matthew extended his hand, helping him up, "Be careful."

After standing up, Ben Foster calmed down a bit, took a deep breath, and said, "Thank you, Matthew."

Although he didn't see it clearly, he felt that if Matthew hadn't pushed him, he would have definitely hit his head against the wall.

The instructor noticed the situation and shouted, "Matthew Horn! What happened? Is anyone hurt?"

"It's nothing!" Matthew looked at Ben Foster, who nodded, and then shouted back, "All good."

"Continue training!" the instructor commanded.

The training went on for nearly an hour before it was time to rest again.

Most people sat in the shade to rest. Matthew, with his good physical condition, wasn't much affected by the intensity of the training. He grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the crew's supply, took a sip, and noticed the instructor from the Delta Force walking back and forth between the training buildings, seemingly planning the next training session. He grabbed another bottle of water and walked over.

"Brown…" Matthew called out, "Here's some water."

The instructor, named Brown Williams, claimed to be a veteran who had spent over five years in the Delta Force.

He left a good impression on Matthew, not like the boisterous American soldiers depicted in movies or TV shows, but rather calm and composed.

"Thanks!" Brown Williams accepted the water and asked, "Aren't you resting?"

"I'm not tired," Matthew shook his head.

"I almost forgot…" Brown Williams smiled, "You've undergone military training."

He asked with a hint of curiosity, "Is the income high for military trainers in Hollywood?"

"It's okay…" Matthew glanced at him, "In recent years, there have been quite a few modern warfare-themed movies and TV shows in Hollywood, and it seems pretty easy for military consultants with professional experience to find work."

He didn't know much about it and could only give a general answer, but what he said didn't match what he thought; he hadn't heard of many veterans making a name for themselves in Hollywood.

After a day's training, everyone was sweaty and dirty. Matthew's squad trained quite a distance from the dormitory area. By the time they returned to their dorm, most had already showered and come out from the communal bathroom.

Matthew shared a double room with James McAvoy. As they prepared to go to the bathroom, the distinctive ringtone of a Nokia phone suddenly sounded.

"It's your phone…" James McAvoy reminded.

"Right." Matthew responded, finding his Nokia phone and seeing it was a call from Brittany. He told James McAvoy, "You go ahead and shower. It's my girlfriend's call; I'll go in a bit."

James McAvoy waved his hand and left the dorm with his toiletries.

"Hi, dear." Matthew answered the call, "How come you have time today?"

Brittany's voice came through, "I've arrived in Yokohama, just got into my hotel room. I'm free now and thought you might have finished training…"

Outside the dormitory, in the hallway leading to the stairwell upstairs, Tom Hardy peeked around the corner, closely observing the direction of Matthew and James McAvoy's room. He had been watching ever since those people returned.

Soon, he saw James McAvoy and another actor, Ben Foster, heading towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

"How's it going?" Johnny Lee Miller, carrying a handbag, stood behind Tom Hardy, "Have they come out?"

"Not yet," Tom Hardy whispered, "I only saw James McAvoy, who shares a dorm with Matthew Horn. Matthew Horn hasn't come out yet."

He was puzzled, "Doesn't that guy shower? How much sweat must he have worked up today? That's disgusting…"

"Let's wait a bit longer," Johnny Lee Miller was patient, "Keep cool, let's see what happens."

Tom Hardy peeked out again; James McAvoy and Ben Foster had entered the bathroom, with no movement from Matthew Horn's side.

Johnny Lee Miller wasn't idle; he picked up his bag from the ground, rummaging through the contents of the handbag, and asked, "Tom, are you confident?"

"Even if we can't force him out of the crew…" Tom Hardy was confident, "we can still make him lose face badly! And... as long as we have the stuff in our hands, he'll have to think carefully about his actions in the future!"

Johnny Lee Miller nodded, finding this similar to Angelina Jolie's tactics against him.

After he signed the property settlement agreement, Angelina Jolie gave him the only copy of a videotape, and they even noted it in the agreement. Angelina Jolie assured the uniqueness of the videotape; if she had another, she would pay him a large sum of money.

He wasn't worried about the videotape issue, so after Tom Hardy suggested the plan, he readily agreed.

After all, he was a big star, and Matthew Horn was just a lucky driver. Even if the situation blew up, the crew would likely target Matthew Horn for a quiet resolution, not him.

After finishing the call with Brittany, Matthew put away his phone, gathered his toiletries, and left the dorm for the bathroom at the end of the same floor. Arriving at the door, he saw James McAvoy and a few others had already come out, exchanged casual greetings, and entered.

The bathroom had two sections, a smaller changing area and a shower area further inside.

Matthew found an empty locker, placed his clothes inside, and saw Ben Foster coming out of the shower.

"You arrived just in time," Ben Foster said while drying his wet hair with a towel, "Now you have the shower room to yourself."

Matthew, holding his towel, replied as he walked inside, "Better lucky than early."

Entering the shower area and standing under the showerhead, the warm water cascading over his body brought a refreshing feeling, and Matthew couldn't help but stretch.

The sound of the door opening and closing indicated Ben Foster had left.

Back in his own dorm, Ben Foster put away his toiletries and decided to go out to buy something. Perhaps due to the day's training, the hallway was deserted, except near the bathroom at the end, where two people stood by the door.

He recognized them, Johnny Lee Miller, a major actor in the crew, and Tom Hardy, another actor of similar stature.

They were dressed in clean clothes, not appearing to be there for a shower, and he remembered they didn't stay on this floor. Even if they needed a shower, they wouldn't come here.

As Ben Foster pondered this, the two entered the bathroom.

"Something's not right!"

Ben Foster immediately recalled some things James McAvoy had mentioned about conflicts with Tom Hardy in another crew. Could those two be planning something against Matthew?

He stopped, hesitating on what to do next.

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