The sun had just risen above the horizon, hanging brightly in the sky. After days of continuous rain in London, the city finally had good weather. A white man and a black man, both paparazzi, followed two individuals out of the police station. Squinting against the bright light, they instinctively raised their hands to shield their eyes from the glare.
As they entered the parking lot, the two people in front of them suddenly stopped.
"Mr. Scotter..." One of the two, a middle-aged man in a suit, spoke to the gray-haired man beside him. "I'll be heading off now. Contact me directly if anything else comes up."
"Alright," the man named Scotter replied, shaking hands with him. "Thank you, Attorney Begir."
The lawyer got into his car and left first. Once he had driven out of the parking lot, Scotter gestured for the white and black paparazzi to join him in a black business sedan.
As soon as they got into the car, the two paparazzi visibly relaxed.
"Boss, is everything okay?" the white paparazzi asked Scotter.
The black paparazzi also looked at Scotter, who was the head of their department and known for protecting his people.
Scotter remained silent, only nodding thoughtfully, as if lost in contemplation.
"I knew nothing would happen," the white paparazzi said with a smile. "We have freedom of the press."
The black paparazzi nodded in agreement. "The public has the right to know!"
The white paparazzi continued, "Boss, this is big news. We almost captured footage of Matthew Horner and Emma Watson..."
"Did you get any shots?" Scotter interrupted.
"No," the black paparazzi replied.
The white paparazzi quickly added, "We managed to get some intimate shots, but Horner's bodyguard confiscated the camera." He urgently added, "Boss, I need to get that camera back."
Scotter glanced at him but remained silent.
"Matthew Horner and his bodyguards intimidated and threatened us, and they damaged private property," the white paparazzi pressed. "We can't let this go. We need to keep following this lead—this is huge news!"
"Matthew Horner has already compensated for the camera," Scotter said slowly. "Are you two ready?"
The white and black paparazzi quickly nodded. "We're ready! Boss, we're going to make Matthew Horner pay for what he did last night!"
"I'm not talking about that." Scotter pulled a folder from the car's storage compartment and instructed the driver, "Drive them back."
He handed two envelopes to the white and black paparazzi. "Matthew Horner isn't just any Hollywood star. He's not someone you can afford to provoke."
The two paparazzi instinctively took the envelopes, confused by what Scotter meant. "Are we just letting this go?" they asked.
Scotter thought for a moment before warning them, "Matthew Horner won't just let it go. You two should be careful."
His words left the two paparazzi momentarily stunned. The white paparazzi, puzzled, asked, "Boss, what does this mean?"
"You two need to lay low for a while," Scotter said casually, waving them off. "As of now, you're no longer employees of the paper."
The white paparazzi's eyes widened in shock. "Why? We..."
Scotter raised his voice abruptly, "You messed with the wrong person."
The two paparazzi wanted to argue further, but Scotter cut them off. "It's no use now. This wasn't my decision."
After hesitating for a moment, Scotter added, "Early this morning, James Murdoch personally called the editor-in-chief to ask about this matter."
Both paparazzi opened their mouths but couldn't find the words to respond. They knew that James Murdoch was the head of the entire media group in the UK.
"Matthew Horner is just a celebrity, right?" the black paparazzi muttered.
"If you think a billionaire, a globally renowned philanthropist, and social activist is just a Hollywood star..." Scotter sneered slightly, "Don't say I didn't warn you. Matthew Horner isn't going to let this go easily."
He sternly advised, "You're no longer employees of the paper, and the paper won't support you anymore. Be careful in the future."
The two paparazzi had been in the business long enough to realize they had indeed crossed a line they shouldn't have.
"But..." the white paparazzi tried to protest.
The car stopped in front of an old apartment building. Scotter gestured outside the window. "It's no use talking about it now. Get out of the car. Contact me again in a few months."
This was a common tactic used by the newspaper. In Scotter's opinion, whether it was James Murdoch or Matthew Horner, these were powerful people. After a few months, they would likely forget about the incident, and he could bring these two idiots back.
After all, they were quite capable.
Hearing Scotter's words, the two paparazzi didn't argue any further. They nodded and got out of the car.
"Stay out of trouble for now!" Scotter reminded them again. "Don't mess with Matthew Horner again!"
After watching the car leave, the two paparazzi turned and entered the apartment building. The place was old, poorly lit, and rather dingy.
As they passed through the hallway and prepared to head up the stairs, the door to an old storage room suddenly swung open. Several homeless men with filthy faces emerged and blocked their path.
"Yeah, it's them," the leader said after glancing at them. "Get them."
"Run!" the white paparazzi yelled, but before they could move, someone appeared at the top of the stairs.
They were instantly trapped. The leader was none other than Morrison.
"What are you going to do..." the black paparazzi started to ask.
But Morrison raised a hand, signaling his men. "Beat them up!"
Seven or eight homeless men immediately surrounded the two paparazzi, raining down punches and kicks. To add insult to injury, some of the attackers spat on them while beating them. The smell was so foul, it nearly knocked the paparazzi unconscious.
After about five or six minutes, Morrison stopped the beating and said, "Fifty thousand pounds. That's the deal. You have one week, or else..."
He sneered and left with his crew.
This completely caught the paparazzi off guard. They were in so much pain that they could barely move. The spit on their bodies was so disgusting they felt like throwing up the dinner from the night before.
"Call the police!" the white paparazzi said, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling the police."
Soon, a couple of officers came by, took a statement, and left. Fights like these happened all the time in London, and the police simply couldn't deal with every case.
Just as the police left, Morrison returned with his men and beat the two up again, reiterating his demand for fifty thousand pounds within a week.
"What should we do?" the black paparazzi asked.
The white paparazzi gritted his teeth. "If he can pay for muscle, so can we. Let's hire some street kids..."
That same afternoon, Morrison was ambushed by a group of 17- or 18-year-old kids. They beat him up so badly that one of his front teeth was knocked out...
And so the cycle of dog-eat-dog violence continued.
Meanwhile, at the Hilton Hotel, Matthew Horner remained unaffected by the chaos. Early that morning, he had Brown-Williams personally escort Emma Watson to her father's law firm, before he got back to his usual work.
The film crew's schedule was still on track. Most of the scenes planned for London were complete, and Christopher Nolan had distributed the revised script to Matthew and the other main actors.
The Paris scenes had been rescheduled to be shot in London, which required some changes to the script.
The changes mainly involved scene settings and the associated dialogue.
The character with the most changes was Emma Roberts' role, but she wasn't due to arrive in London for another two days. Her scenes with Dom Cobb would be rehearsed later.
Matthew spent most of the day going over the script. As the day drew to a close, Anne Hathaway left early due to other commitments, leaving Matthew to plan dinner with James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender.
"You've had an eventful few days," James McAvoy said, half-jokingly. "That incident last night was quite the stir."
Michael Fassbender chimed in, "Are you letting this slide? Be careful, there might be a next time."
"Of course I'm not letting it go," Matthew said, knowing that if he didn't deal with it properly, there would be more people willing to pull similar stunts in the future. "The two paparazzi have already been fired by The Sun."
He didn't elaborate further, but he had just received a message from one of his bodyguards. Apparently, the dog-eat-dog scenario had turned into quite the spectacle.
Emma Watson had also called him, telling him that her father's law firm was eager to take on the case. Although her father couldn't be directly involved, they had found numerous charges to press against the two paparazzi.
Moreover, the firm was confident they could hit the paparazzi hard, both financially and legally, even putting them behind bars for a while.
Matthew didn't know much about British law, but since Emma Watson's father was confident, there was no reason to doubt it.
As the workday ended, the three actors left the hotel meeting room and headed for the second-floor restaurant. Just as they arrived, someone came rushing after them.
"Mr. Horner!"
A sharp-looking woman caught up to them, introducing herself. "Hello, I
'm Amal Alamuddin, a lawyer."
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