Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

At Martin's private beachside estate.

Scarlett Johansson, clad in a bikini, lounged on a chair by the sandy shore.

Beside her, Martin was eagerly applying sunscreen to her skin.

"I heard that Kevin Durant was confessing his love for you on Twitter again?" he said.

"Yup," Scarlett giggled. "Pretty amusing, right? The guy's not doing half bad with the Thunder, though. Word is he's got superstar potential."

"Superstar or not, he's still dying to drink your bathwater."

"That guy's gotta be out of his mind, haha!"

"You seem pretty pleased with yourself," Martin teased.

"Of course I am," Scarlett shot back. "This is my charm in full effect."

"Charm, huh?" Martin smirked.

His hands started to wander.

"Oh, oh, no, no, don't stop!" Scarlett murmured.

If Durant could see his goddess like this right now, would he still be so eager to drink her bathwater?

On the other side, Jessica, who'd been napping with her eyes half-closed, was stirred awake by their antics. She slid off her sunglasses, glanced over, and grinned. "Scarlett, you're hopeless. Two seconds in, and you're already waving the white flag? Pathetic."

"Pathetic? Martin's got that magic touch, and you know it," Scarlett retorted. "Damn it, it's like he's setting me on fire."

Jessica had just wrapped up filming High School Musical 3, with Martin contributing to the script and soundtrack, making this installment far more vibrant than its original timeline's cash-grab predecessor. It was bound to keep Jessica crowned as the queen of teen flicks.

Still, Jessica was itching to branch out. She wasn't getting any younger, and playing high school girls forever wasn't sustainable. Lately, she'd been hounding Martin to write her a new script.

Truth be told, Jessica had her heart set on The Hunger Games, but Martin had already promised that to Jennifer Lawrence. So, he was planning to pull out Divergent instead.

Jessica didn't look remotely old anyway. Tweak the setting a bit, make the heroine around twenty, and it'd work just fine.

The Divergent novel was already written and published, a hit with readers. Martin, naturally, was credited as the author—though he hadn't written a word himself. He'd provided a detailed outline and handed it off to a young writer named Veronica Roth to flesh out.

Yes, that Veronica Roth, the original author.

The gall of Martin, not only swiping her breakout work but having her write it for him under the guise of "collaboration." Worst of all, the oblivious Veronica was grateful, utterly in awe of Martin's supposed creative genius.

"Martin, is the Divergent script done yet?" Jessica couldn't help but ask.

"Almost, don't rush me," Martin replied. "Next year, we'll shoot The Hunger Games first. Divergent and The Hunger Games are similar vibes, so it's better to space them out. Shooting the year after makes more sense. For now, read the novel, get a feel for the character and the story."

"Fine, okay," Jessica sighed.

"What's Jennifer up to these days?" Jessica asked, bringing up their "organization's" newest little sister, tied to The Hunger Games.

Martin's hands didn't pause, still working their "magic" on Scarlett as he answered, "She's training in archery and combat. The Hunger Games has a lot of action scenes. Oh, and don't slack on your dance training either—Divergent has similar sequences."

"Ah!" Scarlett's face flushed crimson, her body tensing suddenly as she let out a sharp cry.

…

After two days of rest at home, Martin flew to Chicago to meet up with Leonardo and the crew for a promotional event.

Just weeks earlier, during the July 4th Independence Day parade, a shooting had rocked Chicago's central avenue, leaving six dead and thirty-four injured.

As a result, the film crew's security in Chicago was airtight, even canceling the fan premiere.

The suspect, Robert Eugene Crimo III, a lanky twenty-two-year-old white man from the area, with long black hair and wearing a white or blue T-shirt, was still on the run.

When Martin arrived, Leonardo couldn't resist a jab. "Well, look at that, our superhero's here. What's the bet this shooter doesn't end up in your hands this time?"

Martin was no Conan, though. By the time he landed in Chicago, the FBI had already nabbed the suspect.

Still, the shooting sparked yet another heated debate across the U.S. about gun control.

President Obama submitted another gun ban proposal to Congress—only for it to be shot down, as usual.

The frustrated president even called Martin to vent. "The resistance is fucking frustrating. Do these people only care about profits and not the damage caused by rampant guns?"

Martin consoled him. "Barack, you've done what you can. At least the public knows you're fighting for gun control…"

On his second day in Chicago, the opening weekend box office numbers for Inception came in: $127 million in North America, $423 million globally.

Thanks to premium 3D and IMAX ticket prices, Inception was outperforming its original timeline by a wide margin.

After the day's promotion wrapped, the Inception crew stepped out of Chicago's Grand Theater, only to freeze in shock at the entrance.

They weren't waiting for the bus—it was already idling outside. No, they were stunned by the sight of snow falling from the Chicago sky.

Martin blinked in disbelief. "Did I get the date wrong, or is Chicago really snowing in July?"

Leonardo chuckled. "It's real snow. I've heard Chicago's weather can be extreme, but I've never seen it myself. Snow in July? That's a first."

He wasn't wrong. Chicago's weather was notoriously wild—summers hotter than Miami, winters colder than the Arctic, with heatwaves in spring, snow in summer, tornadoes, and freak storms.

The group trudged through the snow back to their hotel.

By the next morning, Chicago's weather had snapped back to normal, as if the previous day's snow had never happened.

The crew flew back to Los Angeles.

From there, the Inception team split into groups to promote the film across different regions. Leonardo headed to Europe, then Japan. Ken Watanabe went to Japan, Yang Mi to China, and another group to Australia and New Zealand.

Martin stayed in the U.S.

Not out of laziness—Marvel Studios had come knocking again, pitching him to direct The Avengers.

He was genuinely intrigued by the project, especially since it was a chance to get a financial stake in it.

Though Marvel was now under Disney's umbrella, it still had some autonomy. Martin couldn't just throw around his Disney shareholder weight; he had to negotiate carefully.

Meanwhile, in China, Yang Mi was basking in the full international superstar treatment. Everywhere she went, crowds mobbed her.

Several Chinese industry bigwigs were also vying to invite her to exclusive dinners and parties.

---

[I'll skip the china arc in the next chapter if there is one.]