In the bustling office on Peachtree Street in Atlanta, Jerome, his eyes scanning over a newspaper, couldn't hide his amazement. "The Dark Knight has broken records, it has made over $400 million domestically in just 16 days, and globally, $700 million!"
Across from him, Robert, meticulously cleaning an old wooden desk adorned with two vintage Coca-Cola bottles from 2003, shared the sentiment. The bottles, a token from the premiere of The Dark Knight, were a symbol of their journey.
Jerome, leaning back in his chair, mused aloud, "Who would've thought our little Marietta troupe would produce a superstar?"
Robert, with a half-joking tone, replied, "It's all thanks to the blessing ceremony of the Coke God Cult."
Jerome chuckled. "So, Martin rose to stardom under your ceremonies?"
"Martin is more than a follower; he's a leader of the sect," Robert said, his tone a mixture of seriousness and jest. "I'm merely the high priest."
Jerome's gaze wandered to a photo on the wall, capturing Robert in a Coke culture shirt and Martin as the leader of the Coke God Cult. "I wonder when Martin will be back in Atlanta. You should check with Elena," he suggested.
Robert nodded in agreement, aware of Martin's discreet visits to Atlanta to see Elena.
Glancing at the wall clock, Jerome stood up. "Time to head to the Gray Film and Television Center. Zack Snyder's 'Watchmen' is wrapping up. Let's make an appearance at the closing ceremony, it's a big moment for our actors."
Exiting the office, they drove towards the film center, unaware of the surveillance from the black Chevrolet SUV parked nearby.
Inside the SUV, a bear-like man lowered his digital camera. His companion, a bearded man speaking Russian, inquired, "Was it them?"
"Yes, Jerome and Robert, key players in Atlanta's film and TV scene, all thanks to Martin Davis," the bear-like man confirmed in accented English.
Victor, the bearded man, cautioned restraint. "Our boss wants us to lay the groundwork. Making a move in Atlanta will alert Martin Davis. We need to be patient."
As they drove to the film center, Victor explained their long-term mission, emphasizing the need for timing and caution, especially given Martin Davis's elevated status and connections.
The bearded man, less strategic in thought, suggested a more direct approach, but Victor dismissed it, stressing the complexities of operating in the U.S. compared to Russia. "This isn't about brute force. We're playing a long game here," Victor concluded.
The conversation in the SUV revealed a deeper plot brewing against Martin Davis, one that required careful planning and an understanding of the intricate web of influence and surveillance that enveloped the city.
In the shadows of Atlanta's bustling film industry, a sinister plan was slowly taking shape, its final act yet to unfold.
Inside the Angel Club's newly expanded fitness area, the atmosphere was charged with excitement and competition. The boxing ring, a recent addition, was the center of attention, where club members gathered to watch a spirited match.
Chard, Tiger Chen, Mane, Marcus, and others, led by the club owner Kane, were keenly observing the intense bout between Martin and Bruce in the ring. The fight was a display of skill and agility, with Martin showcasing some unorthodox but effective techniques.
As Martin deftly maneuvered between Bruce's legs, Bruce attempted to block, but Martin's swift, forceful punch landed squarely on his face. "Going for the crotch, that's an eye-catching move," Marcus commented with a grin, impressed by Martin's audacity.
"It's like he's absorbed all the essence of tiger's kung fu," Chad observed, nodding in agreement.
Tiger Chen, smiling, added, "In a life-and-death fight, you use every ruthless means at your disposal, targeting the enemy's most vulnerable spots."
As the fight continued, Bruce raised his hand to block Martin's next attack, but Martin was quicker. He grabbed Bruce's arm and executed a sweeping leg move, sending Bruce tumbling to the mat.
Martin, standing over Bruce, mimed a gun with his hand and declared playfully, "Man, your life's gone."
Bruce, brushing himself off and rising to his feet, conceded graciously, "Your skills and experience are at their peak, Martin. I'm not young anymore; there's no shame in losing to you."
From the audience, Kane shouted a reminder, "Guys, remember, no guns in the ring!"
Martin, untying his gloves and hopping out of the ring, called out to Kane, "Your turn to take on Bruce!"
The group then transitioned from the boxing ring to the shooting range, showcasing their proficiency with firearms. As they emptied magazines from pistols and automatic rifles, the camaraderie and competitive spirit among them were palpable.
Shortly before noon, Martin received an unexpected message: "Century City Shopping Plaza, meet inside the east door." The message was signed JJN – John Joseph Nicholson.
Puzzled by the sudden, secretive summons, Martin gathered Chad, Kane, and Bruce to head to the shopping plaza.
Arriving at the east entrance, Martin, donning a baseball cap for disguise, entered cautiously. The plaza wasn't crowded, but there was no sign of Nicholson. Suddenly, a figure in maintenance attire and a hard hat approached from a service passage, whispering a code phrase. Martin responded correctly, identifying Nicholson's disguise.
Following Nicholson into the passage, Martin questioned the purpose of this clandestine meeting. Nicholson, clearly displeased with Martin's lack of discretion, chastised him for his casual approach and lack of a proper disguise.
"We're embarking on something very secretive," Nicholson emphasized, "and you need to be more cautious about security!"
Their exchange in the secluded passage highlighted the gravity of their secret endeavor and the need for utmost discretion in whatever mysterious plan Nicholson had in store.
In the dimly lit service passage, Martin responded to Nicholson's admonishment with a hint of sheepishness. "Next time, I promise to come in disguise," he assured, adding with a touch of skepticism, "Is all this really necessary?"
Nicholson, leading the way up the steps, replied with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You, blinded by money and beauty, fail to see the thrill in this! When I give the secret word, you need to be in disguise. No exceptions."
Martin nodded in understanding, his curiosity piqued. "Alright, Jack. What's the urgent matter today?"
Nicholson's voice dropped to a whisper as he divulged, "Jennifer Lawrence, my student, has enrolled in Studio 4. James Franco, the acting teacher there, has a peculiar way of conducting his classes."
Martin, recalling some of Franco's notorious gossip, inquired, "What happens in these classes?"
Nicholson didn't mince words. "What else? Hollywood stars and their acting classes... Intimate student-teacher interactions, touching in places best left untouched, all under the guise of 'acting.'"
As he spoke, Nicholson slyly insinuated, "You're no stranger to such practices, Martin. Your reputation precedes you."
Martin was quick to defend himself. "Hold on, I'm a stand-up guy. I've always maintained professional boundaries."
Nicholson scoffed, continuing, "Franco takes it further, personally instructing in more... explicit scenes, supposedly to prepare the students for Hollywood."
He then reminisced about Marlon Brando's unconventional methods, including classes conducted in the nude and clandestinely recorded.
Martin, half-joking, half-serious, retorted, "You're not missing out on anything in your old age, are you?"
Nicholson dismissed the idea of releasing such footage, not wanting to tarnish Brando's legacy posthumously.
Martin's interest was piqued. "Who has these videos? It's just curiosity, wondering what antics they got up to."
Nicholson steered the conversation away, wary of revealing too much. He asked Martin about his next steps.
Martin, deep in thought, proposed, "What if we played matchmakers? Franco needs a partner with fame and resources, and Ben Affleck needs money to help his brother. Why not bring them together?"
Nicholson considered the implications, particularly the reaction of Hollywood's influential figures. Martin was confident that unless the media made a scandal of it, the likes of Jolie and Aniston wouldn't intervene.
Martin, aware of the potential risks and rewards, concluded with a plan. "Let's give it a try. It might not work, but if it does, I'll even personally approach Julie and Aniston."
In the shadowy corridor, the two men plotted, weaving a scheme that could potentially shake the foundations of Hollywood's elite. The air was thick with conspiracy and the tantalizing prospect of manipulating the glittering world of celebrities to their advantage.