บท 236: Haters?
In the dimly lit cinema, the audience was captivated by the silver screen, their eyes glued to the full film "Midnight in Paris." As the credits began to roll, a mix of emotions filled the air. Although the protagonist, Gil, ended up with a better woman than his fiancee, many in the audience couldn't help but feel that he had more chemistry with Adriana. The critics, who were also in attendance, agreed that the film was enjoyable but not without its flaws.
The movie's saving grace, they all agreed, was Lucas's exceptional performance. His acting prowess shone through as brightly as ever, just as it had in his previous films and TV series. His consistently great performances left the critics in awe, drawing comparisons to the likes of Daniel Day Lewis and Jack Nicholson. However, even these acting legends had their off days, leading the critics to wonder how long Lucas could maintain his streak of flawless performances.
The movie's characters, save for a few, seemed to lack depth, with only Gil, played by Lucas, and Adriana, brought to life by the enchanting Marion Cotillard, feeling like multidimensional. While it would be easy to blame the supporting cast for their one-dimensional portrayals, the true fault, many critics felt, lay with the direction of Woody Allen.
As the credits rolled to an end, Lucas, along with Neil and Shawn, blended in with the crowd as they exited the the theater. They hoped to leave unnoticed, but as they walked out, a group of people approached them.
"You're Lucas Knight, right?" A man, flanked by two others, asked, recognizing the young actor despite his changed hairstyle and sunglasses.
Lucas chuckled wryly. He had thought the disguise would be enough to blend in with the crowd, but it seemed his fame had preceded him yet again.
"I knew it was you!" one of the men behind the first fan exclaimed, grinning widely. "A hairstyle change doesn't fool us, Lucas."
Lucas smiled good-naturedly. "Alright, alright. I've got a pen on me. Just one autograph each, alright?"
"Haha, very obedient," the fan joked as he and his friends handed over their shirts for Lucas to sign.
After obliging their request, the group thanked him profusely before dispersing into the crowd, leaving Lucas, Neil, and Shawn to continue their walk.
As Lucas, Neil, and Shawn strolled through the bustling crowd, they were approached by more fans seeking autographs and selfies. While most interactions were positive, there were always a few naysayers lurking around.
"Is that Lucas? I thought he'd be more attractive… I guess looks can be deceiving," sneered a thin man who himself looked far from average, and seems like a thug more than anything else. He spoke loudly enough for both Lucas and some nearby fans to hear.
His friends joined in, scoffing and glaring at the young actor. The fans, initially angered on Lucas's behalf, noticed the gang-like tattoos on the men's arms and decided against retaliation.
However, a few fans couldn't let the insults slide. "What gives you the right to talk about others' appearances when you lot look like that?" a young woman retorted, her voice shaking with anger but determination.
"What did you just say, bitch?" the short yet burly man growled, taking offense.
"Hmph, she said you guys are ugly," the young woman's friend chimed in, standing her ground.
"Tsk. You girls really like this guy?" the thin man scoffed, looking from Lucas to the two defiant women. His friends also seemed offended by the insults.
The commotion had already attracted the attention of onlookers and fans, many of whom had their phones out, recording the confrontation. Some even had footage of the thugs insulting Lucas from the beginning.
As the thugs advanced on the girls, Lucas stepped in front of them, his back to the aggressors. "Hey, guys, let's all keep it cool. There's no need for rudeness or violence, alright?"
"What do you care, pretty boy?" the thin man sneered, shoving Lucas. To everyone's surprise, the young actor didn't budge an inch.
Neil, visibly tense, whispered in Lucas's ear, "Let's go, Lucas. We don't need this kind of attention."
Lucas shook his head. "No, these guys will hurt the girls, didn't you see?"
The burly Shawn, decided to help Lucas, stepped forward. "I've got this."
However, the burly friend of the thin man confronted him, ready for a fight.
The commotion had escalated, and the onlookers, now even more interested, continued recording the scene unfolding before them.
As the commotion escalated, the onlookers, instead of intervening, continued to record the scene, enthralled by the drama unfolding before them. Fans of Lucas, on the other hand, were frantic, dialing the police and yelling for help.
As the thugs revealed their knives, Neil panicked. "Lucas, we've got to go!"
Even Shawn, the burly driver, took a step back, unsure of how to handle the escalating situation. The girl fans looked at Lucas with worry etched on their faces.
Everyone thought that things had become perilous for Lucas—his life was on the line. However, Lucas didn't flinch. The onlookers assumed he was terrified, but to their astonishment, he struck back so suddenly.
Before the three thugs could react, Lucas had already disarmed the thin man of his knife, sending it flying across the alley. The remaining two assailants, caught off guard, rushed at Lucas simultaneously. He evaded their clumsy swings with ease, ducking and weaving between them. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the wrists of both attackers, one in each hand, and with a powerful twist, he disarmed them of their knives as well.
Lucas, fueled by adrenaline, kicked both thugs in the stomachs, doubling them over.
The burly thug, sensing an opportunity, charged at him, but Lucas sidestepped the attack and delivered a swift elbow strike to the back of the man's neck, causing him to crumple to the ground.
The girls, who had been defending him earlier, gasped in awe. The onlookers, now realizing the severity of the situation, finally began to step in, restraining the fallen thugs.
Lucas, panting slightly, handed the knives to Shawn. "Here, get rid of these," he said, his voice shaking with adrenaline.
Neil, visibly relieved, exhaled sharply. "What were you thinking, man? You could've been killed!"
Lucas straightened his shirt, trying to regain his composure. "I couldn't just stand by and let them hurt those girls for defending me."
As Lucas caught his breath, the onlookers and fans who had witnessed the altercation couldn't help but stare at him with newfound respect. The girls he had just defended couldn't believe their eyes, their admiration for the young actor now sky-high.
Lucas, still shaking from adrenaline, managed a grateful smile. "Thank you all for your help," he said, addressing the crowd that had restrained the thugs. "And to these two brave ladies," he gestured towards the girls, "I owe you one."
The girls blushed, fumbling for words as they stammered their thanks.
Neil, ever the professional, interjected, "We should probably go now, before the paparazzi arrives."
Lucas nodded in agreement, and with one last grateful look at the crowd, he, Neil, and Shawn made their way through the dispersing crowd, leaving behind a trail of awestruck onlookers and newfound fans.
Amid the commotion, a lone figure in the crowd, a journalist named Richie, watched the scene unfold with keen interest. Initially, he had been at the premiere of "Midnight in Paris" as a critic, but now, he found himself witnessing something far more captivating. As the altercation between Lucas and the thugs ensued, Richie's reporter instincts kicked in. He knew this was a story worth pursuing.
As the dust settled, and Lucas and his entourage left the scene, Richie quickly approached the onlookers who had recorded the incident on their phones. He flashed a hundred-dollar bill, "Hey, I'm a journalist. I'll give you this if you let me have a copy of that video."
The onlooker, still shaking from what happened, hesitated for a moment before accepting the money and transferring the footage to Richie's phone.
Richie's heart raced as he watched the video, capturing every detail of Lucas's selflessness and bravery. He knew this was the scoop he'd been waiting for.
As the police led the restrained thugs away, a man named Mel in the distance watched the scene unfold with growing irritation. He quickly dialed a number on his phone, and as it connected, he began to explain the situation.
On the other end of the line, Katherine's voice was icy cold. "You idiots! I told you not to touch him! What were you thinking, attacking him with knives?"
Mel on the other end of the line stuttered an excuse. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Katherine. They got carried away, they didn't mean—"
Katherine cut him off mid-sentence. "I don't care about their intentions! You're lucky he wasn't hurt, or I would have had your heads on a platter! Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear, Ms. Katherine," Mel sighed, sweat beading on his brow.
"Good," she spat before hanging up the phone.
"Shit!" Mel growled under his breath, his knuckles whitening with frustration.
Katherine's shrill voice still rang in his ears, her fury palpable even through the now-dead line. He couldn't blame her, not really. Their orders had been clear: to simply rile up Lucas, push him to his limits, and create a juicy scandal that would tarnish his pristine image. Instead, the tables had turned, and now it was Lucas who emerged from the ordeal looking like a saint.
If Lucas had been harmed, even slightly, they would both be neck-deep in legal trouble, and Katherine's wrath would be the least of their worries.
---
Lucas exhaled a deep sigh of relief as he settled into the backseat of the car, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush of the recent altercation. To distract himself, he unlocked his phone and opened a YouTube video, queuing up an episode of Impotent Rage cartoon.
The soothing sounds of the animated rants filled the car's interior, drowning out the honking horns and city noise outside.
As the car pulled away from the chaotic scene, Lucas couldn't help but marvel at how natural the fight had felt. For someone who'd never been in a real brawl before, he'd held his own against the thugs with surprising ease. His thoughts drifted back to the countless hours he'd spent in his "Mind Workshop," immersing himself in the shoes of various characters, honing his acting skills. It seems to be that those mental simulations had actually improved his reflexes and fighting abilities.
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