Chương 473: Chapter 473: Risking Life To Be Famous
Outside the University of California Medical Center, a throng of people buzzed with anxious energy. Cameras, poised like vigilant sentinels, lined both sides of the road. The scene resembled a battlefield, with media as its warriors.
Television trucks from major networks – Warner TV, NBC, ABC, and CNN – converged at the hospital's main entrance, their live cameras capturing the unfolding drama. Reporters, armed with microphones, weaved through the crowd, seizing every opportunity to interview bystanders. The resultant footage and commentary filled the airwaves, providing live updates to viewers nationwide.
Above, the persistent hum of a helicopter's engine cut through the air. Fox Television Network's chopper hovered over the medical center, capturing panoramic shots from its lofty vantage point.
As time ticked by, the crowd swelled in size. New arrivals, easily identifiable in their red cultural shirts, joined the gathering. Within just half an hour, their numbers had burgeoned into the hundreds.
"They're all supporters of Martin Davis," declared an NBC reporter with a note of gravitas. "If anything happens to Martin, this hospital and the LAPD will face a crisis."
Another reporter chimed in, his voice tinged with a mix of cynicism and anticipation. "Thanks to Martin, we might just get a bonus this month. Maybe even double."
A hush fell over the group as a third reporter, a young man fresh from his internship, speculated in a hushed tone, "What if Martin... doesn't make it?"
The crowd's gaze turned sharply towards him. While many harbored similar fears, it was a thought unspoken, a taboo amidst the palpable tension.
His superior, a seasoned journalist, rebuked him sharply. "Silence! Haven't you seen the footage? Martin's a hero."
Undeterred, the young reporter countered, "But those people were targeting him. What kind of hero is he, really?"
It was then that Warner TV's ace reporter, Helen, overheard the conversation. "Are you blind?" she retorted, her voice a blend of frustration and admiration. "Those gangsters were ruthless. If it weren't for Martin drawing their fire, the dock area would've seen unimaginable carnage."
A colleague, aware of Helen's close ties to Martin, interjected eagerly, "Helen, do you have any news about Martin?"
Her expression grave, Helen replied, "I've tried reaching him and his agent. No response from either."
The mood darkened. "That's not a good sign," someone muttered.
Amidst the growing tension, a red Porsche sliced through the throng, speeding towards the hospital entrance.
"That's Elizabeth Olsen's car," a keen-eyed reporter announced. "Martin's girlfriend is here."
As the Porsche vanished from view, the sense of foreboding deepened. "The whole neighborhood's going to be painted red," observed another reporter, noting the unceasing influx of Martin's red-clad supporters.
Inside the hospital, the atmosphere was equally charged. Lily and Elizabeth Olsen emerged from the Porsche, their expressions etched with worry. They navigated through the maze of corridors, finally arriving at a consultation room.
Thomas, Chad, Mene, and other friends hurriedly joined them, concern etched on their faces.
"Where's Martin? What's happened to him?" Elizabeth's voice trembled, her eyes brimming with tears.
Lily, usually composed, found no words to comfort her. Her hand, hidden in her pocket, clenched a carving knife - a silent testament to her helplessness in the face of a loved one's pain.
Thomas broke the heavy silence. "Martin's injured. He's in treatment now."
Unable to contain her emotions any longer, Elizabeth wept, her tears tracing twin paths down her cheeks. She clutched a cross, a cherished gift from her mother, praying fervently for divine intervention.
Lily, her heart aching with empathy, wrapped her arms around Elizabeth. "Martin's strong. He'll pull through," she whispered, offering solace in their shared distress.
In Elizabeth's soft sobs, a chorus of fears and hopes resonated, mirroring the collective apprehension that gripped the crowd outside. The fate of Martin Davis hung in the balance, a thread that connected the hearts of many in that moment of uncertainty.
Mene paced the corridor outside the medical room, his footsteps echoing his anxiety. He ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly, a visible manifestation of his inner turmoil. Desperate to help but unsure how, he felt like a fish out of water. His usually sharp tongue and quick wit were of little use in this dire situation.
Suddenly, the medical room door swung open. A nurse stepped out, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. "Is Thomas Lane here? Martin wishes to see you."
Thomas, who had been standing nearby with a look of deep concern, quickly stepped forward. "That's me," he said, his voice firm yet tinged with worry.
The nurse nodded, gesturing for him to follow her inside. Lily, who had been standing silently, her eyes reflecting the weight of the moment, visibly relaxed at this development.
Elizabeth, however, seemed gripped by a sense of foreboding. "Martin, Martin..." she murmured, her voice laced with fear.
Lily, trying to inject some lightness into the heavy air, quipped, "Martin's fine. Probably just a minor injury. You know, if it were serious, I'd be the first one they'd call in, not Thomas."
Elizabeth, momentarily taken aback by Lily's words, lifted her head from Lily's shoulder. She took a step back, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
Without responding, Elizabeth turned her gaze back towards the medical room, as if seeking answers from its closed door.
Inside the room, Martin lay on the bed, his left arm supported by a sling and his right thigh swathed in bandages. Small, meticulously treated scratches adorned his neck and shoulders.
Thomas, standing by Martin's side, asked with concern, "How are you holding up?"
Martin offered a weary but reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks."
He explained that a ricochet, fortunately blocked by his Nokia phone, had caused a superficial wound on his leg, painful, but not grave. His left arm had borne the brunt of an attack, resulting in a slight fracture, now securely fixed by the doctors.
In a tone laced with irony, Martin mused, "In my past life as a martial artist, I've weathered worse."
His first concern was for his friend. "Where's Bruce?"
"He's on his way," Thomas replied, checking his watch. "He should be here in half an hour, after dealing with the LAPD and FBI."
Once assured of Bruce's safety, Martin's mind turned to the broader implications of the incident. "What's the media saying?"
Thomas briefed him on the extensive coverage. "The major TV networks are reporting non-stop, and online outlets like TMZ are updating constantly. The whole country is watching."
Thomas also relayed messages from Bradett, the LAPD's PR expert, and Stuart from the FBI, both advising Martin to avoid the media for now.
Martin nodded thoughtfully. "Tell them I'll wait. For now, let's keep things quiet."
Thomas agreed, noting that the FBI and LAPD had also cautioned the hospital to maintain discretion.
Martin, ever the strategist, was already considering how to leverage the situation. "No media responses for now. And make sure our people outside stay silent too."
Thomas assured him, "They're all loyal to us. There won't be any issues."
Martin, deep in thought, added, "Get Rita and Martha's Oscar PR team on this. They need to monitor and adjust our strategy as needed. This could be big for the Oscars."
Thomas jotted down Martin's instructions, nodding in agreement.
"Also, ask Chad to come in," Martin added.
Thomas gestured towards the door. "He's just outside."
Martin, feeling the sting of his injuries, carefully rose from the bed. He glanced at the Nokia phone with the embedded warhead. "Send a blurry photo of this to Nokia. Let's see if we can turn this into an opportunity."
Thomas picked up the phone, a hint of a smirk on his face. "This will definitely get their attention."
As the nurse wheeled Martin out of the room, Lily and Elizabeth, who had been waiting anxiously, rushed towards him. Elizabeth's eyes, brimming with tears, fixed on Martin's bandaged arm.
Martin, reclining on the hospital bed, shook his head gently at Elizabeth, a silent reassurance that he was alright.
Along the way, Thomas briefed Chad and Mene on the situation, his voice low but steady. The corridor, once filled with tension, now resonated with a quiet resolve as Martin's friends rallied around him, united in their concern and determination.
Upon entering the ward, the nurse briefly addressed the room before quietly departing. To her, Martin's condition seemed routine, nothing out of the ordinary.
Martin, sensing the palpable concern in the air, reassured everyone. "Don't worry, I'm fine. I'll recover soon." His tone was comforting, aimed at easing the tension.
Elizabeth, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and lingering fear, exclaimed, "I was scared out of my wits!"
With Martin appearing stable, Lily excused herself to the ward's balcony. In need of a moment of solitude, she dialed Elena and Harris, seeking some normalcy amid the chaos.
Meanwhile, Martin, always thinking ahead, called Chad. His voice was decisive, "Hurry up and cut a trailer for 'John Wick'. Talk to Warner Bros. Let's use this incident to boost the film's publicity."
Chad, with his business acumen kicking in, responded enthusiastically. "After watching the pier footage, it's like Jonathan's character leaped into reality. Our film's going to be a massive hit!"
Martin, a slight smile playing on his lips, advised, "To make it a hit, we need to nail the publicity and marketing."
Chad, energized by the opportunity, replied, "With such perfect material at hand, even I know what to do. Warner's team, especially Daniel, they're pros at this."
Martin nodded, "I'm fine here. Focus on pushing this forward."
Chad, eager to act, declared, "I'm heading to the studio now. I'll meet with Daniel and we'll work on the trailer overnight."
Mene, after exchanging a few words with Martin, followed Chad out, leaving Martin and Elizabeth alone.
Elizabeth, ever caring, poured a glass of water for Martin. "Drink some water. You must be parched," she said, her voice laced with concern.
Martin took a few sips, a wry smile on his face. "I'm just a bit nervous," he admitted.
Elizabeth, her worry for Martin's wellbeing evident, playfully scolded him. "You're injured, and yet all you think about is work."
Martin, his entrepreneurial spirit undimmed, retorted, "After such a close call, we must seize this moment to reap the maximum benefit."
Elizabeth, not fully grasping his perspective, offered her support. "I'm here for you. Just let me know if there's anything I can do."
Her phone rang, but upon answering, she was met with inquiries about Martin's condition. Choosing privacy, Elizabeth hung up and turned off her phone.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Lily opened it to reveal Leonardo and Nicholson stepping into the room.
Upon seeing Martin's bandaged state, they both expressed surprise. "Is the injury that severe?" they asked.
Martin, with a hint of mischief, replied, "It's a minor injury, but I made it look worse than it is."
Nicholson, wise and perceptive, caught on immediately. "You're playing it smart. This could really boost your chances at the Oscars!"
Leonardo, somewhat bemused and scratching his head, appeared to be envisioning a future where he'd be the butt of jokes beside his Oscar-winning friends.
Nicholson, ever the comforter, joked, "Don't worry, I'll lend you one of mine. I have three, after all."
Leonardo, in the midst of these light-hearted exchanges, seemed to become the most 'injured' person in the ward.
Their visit was brief but uplifting. After ensuring Martin's injuries were not as grave as they appeared, Leonardo and Nicholson departed, facing the media with nothing but praise for their collaborative heroics against the armed gangsters.
As the afternoon wore on, official representatives from the LAPD and FBI arrived, bringing a new wave of solemnity to the ward. Their presence signaled the seriousness of the situation, a stark contrast to the light-hearted banter that had just transpired.
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