Chapter 42: Pent-up Fury

Early in the morning, Martin drove out of the Clayton community and arrived at the parking lot near Highway 265. After waiting for less than ten minutes, Barkley drove over.

The two cars stopped next to each other. Barkley got out and handed a bag to Martin, saying, "Everything is inside."

Martin opened the bag, finding a voice recorder, camera, press ID, and interview pass. He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Barkley.

Barkley quickly counted the money and smiled with satisfaction.

Martin said, "Wait for my call."

"No problem, no rush," Barkley replied, slightly uneasy. "You aren't planning to do anything illegal, are you?"

Martin responded, "I'm a civilized man. I'm only attending the Methodist press conference under your news agency's name."

Barkley nodded and got back in his car, but as he drove off, he felt something was off.

Martin drove to a club, went to the backstage dressing room, and took out some prepared makeup supplies.

Bruce walked in and asked, "Why not let the real reporter go?"

Martin opened the makeup kit. "Even if we paid him, he wouldn't necessarily ask questions in a way that thoroughly angers someone."

Bruce remarked, "Buddy, I have a feeling that working with you will be the end of me."

Martin retorted, "Dare to challenge the Brits with mortar shells but scared of working with a stubborn guy?"

"I'm afraid you'll blow up the Earth!" Bruce said, watching Martin expertly apply makeup. "You can even do this?"

Martin shrugged. "I'm an actor, Jack Davis..."

Bruce cut him off. "I know, Jack Davis is America's most versatile person, and you're his jerk of a son."

Martin snapped his fingers. "Congratulations, civilized man, you've learned a new skill--quick response!"

Makeup was one of the few skills Martin had honed during his many years in his previous life as an actor.

After finishing his makeup, Martin put on a wig, donned a pair of tinted glasses, and changed into an old-fashioned suit, looking like a conservative and dull middle-aged man.

It would be difficult for anyone who wasn't very familiar with him to recognize him.

This was a look Martin had specifically prepared to blend in.

The two got into a Ford car, with Bruce driving them to the training center. He said, "Be careful not to get yourself killed on the spot. If your brains splatter, the whole world will know you've got shit for brains."

Martin took out his press ID. "I'm a reporter now."

The car stopped near the training center, and Martin got out, holding up a camera and snapping continuous shots of the crowd at the Beast Home.

At the entrance, Martin mingled with other reporters, flashed his press and interview IDs, and smoothly entered the training center.

He even spotted a few familiar faces: a female TV reporter and a male reporter from the Constitutional Journal who had interviewed him outside the Beasts' Home before.

To be safe, he kept his distance.

...

The press conference was held in the training center's hall. Ms. Jennifer was directing volunteers to set up the venue.

Elena took on the task of putting the names of the participating media on the backs of the chairs.

She placed the name of the "Stargazer" in the front row.

Jennifer then said, "There will be a Q&A session during the press conference. We need two people, one on each side, to pass the microphone to the journalists asking questions."

Elena immediately stepped forward. "Ma'am."

Jennifer, remembering that Elena had reported the Beasts' Home, nodded. "Alright, you take the left side."

On the other side, journalists from Atlanta and Georgia, including Martin, were preparing to enter the conference room.

Two staff members from the training center came over to distribute meal vouchers.

These vouchers could be used anytime at a nearby upscale restaurant, the intention was clear.

Martin accepted one and put it in his pocket, blending in with the dozens of reporters entering the venue, quickly finding a seat in the front row.

The press conference started, hosted by Jennifer. A family representative participating in the training went on stage to express their gratitude to the Methodist Association.

A member of the Atlanta City Council praised their work highly.

Milton took the stage to give a speech, denouncing the absurd remarks and behaviors of the liberals and reiterating his stance.

During the Q&A session, Jennifer first called on a reporter from the "Atlanta Constitutional Journal."

This was the largest local newspaper in Atlanta.

The Constitutional Journal's reporter asked very standard questions, which Milton easily handled.

"Next question." Jennifer scanned the dozens of reporters.

Including Martin, the reporters in the first two rows caught her eye first.

Dressed in an old-fashioned, dull manner with a conservative style, a middle-aged male reporter had already caught her attention earlier. She immediately pointed him out. "The reporter in the gray suit."

Elena, trying to appear natural, handed the microphone to Martin.

Martin took the microphone and said, "Mr. Milton, you are a legend in Atlanta. Your ideas and beliefs have illuminated the land of Georgia."

Hearing this, Milton's tense demeanor facing the reporters slightly relaxed, and a faint smile appeared on his stiff face.

Just when everyone let their guard down, Martin's next words cut deep. "Is this because your two ex-wives cheated on you?"

Without waiting for a reaction, Martin quickly continued, "I interviewed Jessica and Lena. They said they cheated because of your incompetence and your refusal to divorce them. They felt compelled to cheat in your bedroom, under your wedding photo, with other men."

All his remarks targeted Milton's incompetence, attributing Milton's conservative views and beliefs to his own incompetence. "So, your incompetence led to your extreme conservatism, right?"

Under normal circumstances, Milton's experience and composure would have allowed him to handle such vicious questions calmly.

But the constant harassment by the Beast Home this past week...

The "other man" his second wife Lena cheated with had publicly humiliated Milton in a bar. The news spread like wildfire, and even bar patrons and community neighbors looked at him strangely.

How could a man endure this?

Milton had even lost his refuge from his wife's pestering.

Jennifer gestured to the staff on either side of the venue to quickly take the microphone away from Martin.

"Your question time is over," Elena rushed up first to grab the microphone from Martin.

She appeared to be struggling with Martin, but her tall figure effectively blocked the two male staff members.

Milton's wounds, which had been slowly healing, were ripped open and bleeding profusely.

Martin released his grip, and Elena took the microphone away.

Though a bit late, Jennifer felt relieved seeing Elena retrieve the microphone.

The press conference could not continue. The journalists had gathered enough explosive material; further questions were redundant. Rushing back to meet the deadline was the priority.

Jennifer made some closing remarks and announced the end of the press conference.

Journalists scrambled to leave, some making phone calls to reserve space in their newspapers or airtime on TV.

Two male staff members escorted Martin outside.

With numerous reporters present, they couldn't do anything drastic.

Once outside the training center, Martin quickened his pace towards the nearby parking lot.

Bruce stood waiting by the Ford car, clearly disappointed. "I can't believe you didn't get beaten to death."

Martin got in the car. "I'm a civilized man. I only do civilized deeds. They politely escorted me out."

Bruce started the engine. "Where to?"

Martin took off the wig and put it away. "Back to remove the makeup."

Returning to the club, Martin removed his makeup and packed everything away.

He handed Bruce the meal voucher. "An upscale buffet, you can take a female companion."

Bruce grabbed it, admiringly saying, "I really admire you, you pile of dog shit. You stir up trouble and still manage to get perks."

Martin said, "I'm regretting it now. I want it back."

As Bruce tucked the voucher into his pocket, his jacket pulled back, revealing his gun holster. "Are you sure?"

The civilized man appeared, and Martin conceded willingly. "Consider it my treat."

The two left the club and headed towards Highway 265, meeting Barkley at the parking lot near the Interstellar Daily.

Martin returned the items to him and said, "I got you a big news story, take a listen."

Barkley played the recording and listened carefully.

Bruce, also listening intently, occasionally glanced at Martin. This guy indeed had shit for brains!

"Good, good, definitely big news!" Barkley exclaimed excitedly. "Too bad it's not exclusive."

Many stories formed in his mind. "This will spark a new round of intense public debate!"

Martin asked, "Based on your professional experience, where will the public focus be?"

Barkley immediately replied, "Of course, it's about freedom and brotherhood among men. These topics heat up easily."

"Thanks, Mr. Barkley," Martin prepared to leave. "I wish you win a Pulitzer Prize soon."

Barkley rushed back to his car and hurriedly returned to the newsroom to write the story. For a long time, he wouldn't run out of material for stories... I mean, news reports.

That evening, Milton's comments from the press conference appeared on TV news.

Such remarks made it impossible not to stir debate.

The printed media went wild.

Liberal and conservative media attacked each other. Milton not only didn't back down; he drafted sharper columns based on his press conference remarks.

Public opinion in Atlanta exploded.

The conservatives, deeply rooted in Georgia for many years, took advantage of the situation to stir a media storm, drawing all the attention to themselves.

With the Atlanta council elections approaching, lack of media focus could have serious consequences.

*****

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