NOVEL WEB Chapter 429 Saving Martin
Every May, the biggest event in the New York fashion and entertainment scene is the charity gala held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the most captivating part of the dinner comes from the bizarre and outlandish outfits donned by celebrities and models.
Here, you'll find the most avant-garde designs and most unimaginable attires. Beauty and ugliness are both taken to the extreme.
Kim Kardashian, after taking Bruce's advice, wrapped herself tightly in plastic tape emblazoned with the "Kardashian" logo, setting the red carpet ablaze.
Celine Dion wore an extravagantly tall feathered headdress and had to stick her head out of the car through the sunroof because it couldn't fit inside.
Then there were men in skirts, women dressed like cats, and more.
In comparison, Taylor Swift dressed as an angel in a white form-fitting gown seemed all too ordinary.
Standing out among so many demons and monsters was no easy task.
In the media area in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art's multi-tiered steps, journalists were also buzzing with comments.
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"Alexander Ambrosio brought angel wings straight to the red carpet."
"Kardashian's tape outfit is eye-exploding. I'd bet a bottle of bourbon that Kim has a mastermind behind her."
"Right, the manipulation behind the tape scandal is obvious. We need to dig out the person behind her."
"I feel like Celine Dion is totally overshadowed by her. Who else can top that?"
"I heard Hollywood's most notorious Trio of Scoundrels has come to New York, seems like they're hitting the red carpet tonight."
"Nicholson? Martin? Leonardo?"
"Look, there's a huge vehicle coming!"
"It's really a huge vehicle!"
A yellow bus slowly made its way up Fifth Avenue, gradually approaching the Metropolitan Museum of Art's main entrance.
The red carpet ceremony had seen limousines, SUVs, convertibles, and so on, but never had anyone arrived in a bus.
On the bus, Martin, Mene, Bruce, and Leonardo stood gripping the handrails, all wearing black silk suits.
To avoid wrinkling their suits, they had not sat down since changing into them.
At their feet lay an ornate European-style coffin, cartoonish in design.
Suddenly, Nicholson's voice came from the honeycomb-style air holes in the coffin lid: "Are we there yet? You bastards better not be planning to take me to the cemetery and bury me alive."
Martin replied, "We're almost there. Wait for my signal."
Nicholson contended, "I must've seen Satan himself to believe your damn lies and lie in a coffin rolling down the red carpet."
"Isn't it your wish to make a name for yourself, to be the center of attention in all of New York?" Leonardo wouldn't give Nicholson the chance to back out, "Old devil, think about it, who has ever laid in a coffin on the red carpet since its inception?"
He spoke dramatically, "Never before has it happened, and if it ever does in the future, they would merely be your imitators."
Bruce glanced at Martin, then at Leonardo, and finally fixed his gaze on the coffin where Nicholson lay, thinking these three idiots were more unreliable than the next.
Throughout, Mene had been watching outside, spotting the tall feathered headdress he helped pick out. He just wanted to hurry and get the coffin to the red carpet, then go find his heart's desire, Celine Dion.
The bus stopped in front of the red carpet, and Martin declared, "Gentlemen, it's showtime."
The four men lifted the coffin with Nicholson inside.
Nicholson quickly reminded them, "Don't sway so much, don't sway, I'm gonna puke."
Martin said seriously, "Jack, show some professionalism. It's not your time to make noise or appear yet. Were your three Oscar statuettes all for nothing?"
Nicholson fell silent.
To the amazement of hundreds of onlookers, the yellow bus opened its wide rear door, and four men in black silk suits actually carried a coffin off the bus.
Even though it was an odd, medieval European-style coffin, it was undeniably a coffin!
Leading the procession with the coffin were Martin and Leonardo.
Media journalists went crazy, no longer caring about the restrictions of the media area, rushing out of their enclosures towards the front of the red carpet and frantically pressing their camera shutters to capture this shocking spectacle.
Tape outfits, feathered headdresses, angel wings all had to step aside!
The North American fashion and entertainment circles had never witnessed such a scene.
"There's Martin and Leonardo, but where is Nicholson?"
The reporters' cameras never rested, nor did their mouths: "Where's the third of the trio?"
"Could Nicholson be lying inside the coffin?"
"Is Nicholson dead?"
"Typical of the Trio of Scoundrels, they really know how to stir things up!"
Not just the media journalists and the spectators at the red carpet, but even the guests who had already entered the Metropolitan Museum of Art came running out to partake in this extraordinary gossip.
Under the watchful eyes of countless onlookers, Martin and Leonardo with the others placed the coffin with Nicholson inside at the front of the multi-tiered steps of the red carpet, carefully setting it down.
Martin kicked the side of the coffin three times in a row.
The inside button was pressed by Nicholson, and with a loud bang, the lightweight plastic lid of the coffin exploded open, tumbling to the sides of the red carpet.
Martin announced loudly, "Let us welcome the noble Earl."
Leonardo also shouted, "Let us welcome the noble Earl."
A hand with deathly pale skin and overly long nails rose from inside the coffin.
Under the flash of cameras, it looked pretty creepy at first glance.
But upon closer inspection, it was actually rather comical because the hand was chubby.
Then, Nicholson, with a slicked-back hairstyle, wearing a cape black on the outside and red inside, and revealing two long, pointed fangs, sat up from the coffin.
The classic Count Dracula look.
It's not unusual at all; on New York and Los Angeles' Halloween parades, there are always at least twenty, if not a hundred, people dressed like this.
But crawling out of a coffin on the red carpet was definitely a first.
Nicholson grabbed his cape and staggerly stood up; maybe he had lain there too long, and his legs had gone numb, for he nearly fell as he stepped out of the coffin.
Martin, quick on his feet, hurriedly steadied him.
Bruce automatically took a bodyguard's position.
Mene rushed up the stairs toward Celine Dion, who was seen earlier at the top.
The new-age, chubby Earl Dracula, Nicholson, pulled out sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on, beckoning Martin and Leonardo, "My servants, come, let's take a photo together."
The three stood in front of the stairs, striking the coolest poses for hundreds of cameras.
The order on the red carpet was almost in chaos, with too many reporters and too crowded, causing many to break through the cordon.
Plenty of security personnel came to maintain order, and one of the event organizers found the trio and whispered a few words to them. They appropriately ceased their antics and walked up the stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art together.
The event organizers had set up a media interview area on the platform of the stairs.
No sooner had the Trio of Scoundrels ascended than they were surrounded by cameras.
A host from New York asked loudly, "Jack, you guys look absolutely cool today!"
Nicholson, taking the role of the group's leader, said, "Of course, we are the best partners, the coolest and most fashionable super-group."
The host then asked, "Who planned all this?"
Leonardo and Nicholson simultaneously pushed Martin forward as the scapegoat, "This was all Martin's idea; he's a top-level mastermind and the idea expert of our group!"
The microphone was then presented to Martin, "How did you come up with all this?"
"I think that history, fashion, magic, and legend can be effectively combined, and as it turns out, the effect is quite good," Martin bluffed, then specifically added, "Actually, I got these ideas from Director Nolan's 'The Dark Knight.' That movie seamlessly integrated all these elements..."
He enthusiastically touted the upcoming July release of The Dark Knight.
The host then turned to Leonardo, mentioning Gisele Bundchen, who was also in attendance that day.
Leonardo, when not drunk, could handle these kinds of questions quite relaxedly.
The host brought up the so-called conflict between Nicholson and Martin.
"Martín and I have never had any private issues; we are bosom buddies, best partners. It was just that we had different views on the role of The Dark Knight," Nicholson began to change the narrative according to the script, hugging Martin's shoulders, "He didn't listen to my advice and became too immersed in the Joker role, which caused some psychological and mental issues."
Martin nodded in agreement, "Roles like the Joker, are hard to get into and even harder to come out of; my therapist even said I developed a hidden persona because of it."
Nicholson gestured toward the plastic coffin being carried away below the stairs, "Why do I, at over sixty, bother humoring Martin and Leo? Because I want him to truly relax and be happy."
Seizing the moment, he boasted self-aggrandizingly, "This silliness worked out well, just look, Martin's smile has relaxed."
Nicholson was a loyal friend, and at that moment, Martin played along with him, smiling more at ease than at his recent public appearances.
Leo, not to be outdone, said, "One of the reasons Jack and I came to New York was to save Martin."
With one hand on Martin's shoulder, he looked earnestly at Martin, declaring, "Brother, you have to win this war with the Joker, to break free completely."
Martin, "touched" by his good brothers, nodded repeatedly.
In that moment, Nicholson and Leonardo's character was elevated, as they climbed to the moral high ground at Martin's expense.
After the interview, the Trio of Scoundrels entered the front hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art together.
Because of the commotion they had caused earlier, they became the center of attention as soon as they entered.
Many people eagerly watched the three, contemplating how they could leech off the night's popularity.
But there were also plenty who were annoyed that they had stolen the show, looking on with eyes filled with envy and resentment.
But the Trio of Scoundrels' skin was thicker than the walls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, completely indifferent to all this, instead looking for places that interested them.