The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 253: Cruise Was My One True Love]

Sylo, Los Angeles, at the Artel Mountain Shooting Range.

On the outdoor training field, Hawke crouched on the ground, examining a broken twig. Wearing full camouflage, he slowly rose and advanced forward. His keen eyes tracked the ground's changes before he abruptly halted.

Between two trees, some dry grass had grown, and a thin line stretched across the underbrush. Hawke didn't take a step forth; instead, he began to retreat along the same path he had come. His ears picked up distant sounds from behind him, which made him feign ignorance and step back a few more paces, leaning against a nearby tree.

From the other side of the grass, Erica suddenly launched herself off the ground, her toned legs propelling her forward with the speed of a cheetah as she lunged at Hawke. He caught her wrist, which was clutching a paint-coated military knife, and used her momentum to throw himself down, rolling forward.

Erica's other hand quickly steadied herself on Hawke's waist. They both tumbled to the ground. However, Hawke was able to pin Erica down, pressing both of her hands above her head with his own.

Lying on her back, Erica looked at his knee resting on her neck and sighed, "I lost again."

Hawke stood up, pulling her to her feet, and praised, "You've improved! Your ambush was more secretive, and your strikes were quick."

Erica sheathed her fake dagger. "I just can't compare when it comes to hand-to-hand combat."

Hawke replied candidly, "It's a matter of gender. A woman's full-force blow doesn't typically achieve the same effect as a man's, especially if aimed at their vulnerable spots. Men generally can deliver harder attacks that women often can't withstand."

Having practiced close combat with Hawke several times, Erica muttered, "The innate difference is just too vast."

They brushed the dust and leaves off each other before heading out of the training ground together.

Erica inquired as they walked, "Have those guys you recruited, you know, Campos and his followers, continued their training?"

Hawke responded, "They train weekly. Campos and the leading few plan to take revenge."

"Do they have families?" Erica asked.

"Yes," Hawke confirmed after investigating. "Not just Guti; Campos, Carlos, and Garcia all had family members brutally taken by drug trafficking gangs."

He continued, "I am also looking into hiring mercenaries."

"Feel free to contact me if you need help," Erica offered readily, then added with a smile, "The Ferguson family has investments in Latin America. The social order there is quite chaotic, and with the government not having a firm grasp on control, some armed groups are needed to protect those investments."

Hawke wasn't surprised by this revelation; he responded without reservation, "I'll let you know if I need anything."

After changing in the locker room and grabbing their bags, Erica proposed, "I got paid today; let me take you out for a nice dinner."

Hawke couldn't refuse, responding eagerly, "Sure!"

...

Before leaving the shooting range, Hawke picked up a newspaper. Once inside Erica's lavish Mercedes, he buckled his seatbelt and flipped through that day's headlines, noticing that the front page was dominated by a Hollywood scandal.

Former Best Actress winner Halle Berry had been caught in an affair, with her husband publicly denouncing her disgraceful actions.

The couple had openly torn each other apart, revealing personal secrets and dirty laundry.

Hawke remarked, "Whenever they're needed, Hollywood stars have a way of sneaking into the headlines with scandals."

Erica, having seen the gossip herself, chimed in, "Celebrity scandals are just so effective at shifting media focus."

"When things seem uncertain, just drag a Hollywood star into the fray, and the pressure naturally dissipates," Hawke stated, setting the paper aside. "It's an age-old trick, but it works every time."

Los Angeles was never short on hot news, and when the timing was right, Halle Berry's misdeeds stole public attention.

...

Sherman Oaks, luxury hillside neighborhood.

Standing on the second floor of her villa, Nicole Kidman finally breathed a sigh of relief, gazing out at the empty doorstep.

Since yesterday, the swarm of reporters and paparazzi following her had vanished. There was no one behind her demanding retribution or encouraging a confession. At last, she could enjoy some peace.

Nicole picked up a nearby newspaper. The front page featured a sizable photo of Halle Berry triumphantly holding her Oscar statuette.

This Best Actress had shocked everyone with her unexpected scandal.

Someone had managed to draw fire from the media, and without a doubt, Nicole should've been pleased. Yet, something gnawed at her, an unsettling feeling that something dreadful loomed ahead.

Lost in thought for a moment, Nicole finally remembered, "Is the Oscar curse back at play?"

After all, Halle Berry had won the last Oscar; it was Nicole who would win it this year. By this sequence of events, she realized she was the next target of the curse!

A wave of anxiety washed over her as she looked out the window again; her doorstep remained eerily silent -- no reporters at all.

The emptiness made her feel faded and irrelevant.

"Andrea, are you up there?" she called out.

The door swung open, revealing her manager, Andrea. "What's up?"

"Let's... go for a drive," Nicole suggested.

Andrea hesitated, concerned about the sudden desire to leave. "Given that the reporters have just shifted their focus, is it really the best time to be going out?"

"Drive me in the Rolls-Royce I usually use for public appearances," Nicole insisted, noticing the quiet at the entrance magnified the curse's pressure pressing down on her.

...

Andrea eventually complied, pulling up in the Rolls-Royce Phantom as Nicole climbed in. As they hit the road, Andrea asked, "Where to?"

After contemplating, Nicole replied, "Let's head to Warner Bros. Studios."

The Rolls raced ahead. For the first time in days, no motorcycle-mounted paparazzi were capturing images through the windshield, and no entertainment reporters followed behind.

Only one car cruised along the road.

As they passed a villa, Nicole noted a cluster of paparazzi and journalists gathered at a house. They surrounded an expressive Sarah Jessica Parker.

The Rolls-Royce Phantom glided past the group, but they didn't bat an eye in her direction.

Yesterday, those same people had been relentless toward Nicole, but now the lack of attention felt far worse.

She glanced up at the car's ceiling as if anticipating the impending arrival of her Oscar-winning curse.

"I need to do something," she murmured, biting her lip. "I need to keep the media's attention on me."

With this thought in mind, the Phantom rolled into Burbank.

More attacks on Tom Cruise? Reflecting on her recent experiences, Nicole recalled her ex-husband had hired West Coast Media Studio, sending Pat Kingsley to prison for ten years. Could this somehow tie back to Hawke Osment?

What had Kingsley done? Attack Tom Cruise.

Nicole quickly changed her plan; a further assault on Tom Cruise wouldn't be wise.

The pressure exerted by Hawke Osment was simply too profound for her to bear.

Still, her ex-husband was the best tool to attract public interest.

An idea materialized in her mind.

...

Arriving at Warner Bros. Studios, the Rolls pulled into the parking lot where Nicole saw throngs of reporters and paparazzi gathered near the entrance.

Massive billboards proclaimed Warner Bros. and DC's big production: Catwoman.

Nicole realized that they were all waiting to capture Halle Berry on set for Catwoman.

Stepping out of the car, she walked towards the studio entrance. Despite her emergence, only a few reporters seemed to redirect their cameras her way, casual in their acknowledgment.

From extreme commotion to total indifference, the stark contrast unsettled Nicole.

As she neared the studio entrance, she suddenly stumbled, letting out a sharp scream as she fell to the ground.

Andrea was trailing a bit behind and couldn't reach her in time.

Nicole crashed down to the ground, her scream startling nearby paparazzi, who immediately redirected their cameras and video lenses towards her.

A crowd began to gather.

The quickest reporter rushed to Nicole, along with Andrea, helping her back to her feet.

Nicole repeatedly expressed her gratitude, "Thank you! I appreciate your help."

At that moment, thirty or more reporters circled them.

One reporter couldn't help but question, "What happened? How did you fall?"

Nicole chuckled bashfully, "I got lost in thought and tripped."

"As I walked here, I recalled the time when Tom and I first met while shooting Days of Thunder, entering the studio together."

Was that the right thing to say? Most reporters raised eyebrows at her words.

One quickly asked, "Have you reconciled with Tom Cruise? Are you no longer angry with him?"

Another chimed in, "Didn't you two have falling outs? There've been rumors..."

"No, it's not like that!" Nicole exclaimed loudly. "After everything that has happened, I realized just how much I loved Tom, even if we can't be together anymore. My feelings for him remain unchanged!"

She declared, "Tom Cruise is the love of my life!"

Gasps erupted across the crowd; this starkly contradicted everything she had voiced about her ex-husband in the two years since their divorce.

One reporter skeptically probed, "Nicole, are you sure you're not feeling any distress?"

Nicole indeed was feeling overwhelmed, but it was the fallout of Kingsley that stirred her. If she continued to tarnish Tom, she feared she would meet a similar fate.

This woman still had some sense of logic.

Nicole didn't burst into anger or panic, instead choosing to respond calmly, "The past few years took a toll on me due to the fallout from my marriage. I said things I shouldn't have and made many foolish mistakes, but I've regained my clear head now."

She locked eyes with the reporter, asserting, "I am quite composed now. I can tell you frankly, even being divorced and not returning to what once was, Tom Cruise is still the love of my life."

As this conversation concluded, Nicole rubbed her bruised arm while entering the Warner Bros. Studios gate.

The crowd of reporters dissipated, hurrying back to their cars or newsrooms to finalize stories.

Compared to Halle Berry's affair, this was far more captivating.

A new entertainment headline was born.

...

At Twitter Headquarters, Hawke was hard at work.

During a break, Edward entered with an invitation, "Steve Nutt and the Dodgers' club sent this over. They're holding a charity game this weekend."

Hawke glanced at it, "Similar to last year's?"

"Should be," Edward noted seriously. "Steve called, mentioning he had something significant to discuss. It seems there's been some conflict between him and the NAACP."

Hawke had anticipated this: "Some in the association only see Steve as a tool for advocacy, while he genuinely seeks to lead a rights organization."

With that thought, he became contemplative.

Could Steve Nutt become a vessel for mobilizing change?

*****

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