Duane couldn't for the life of him figure out how he, an American black man speaking perfect English, had attracted the attention of these drug dealers.
At this moment, he didn't yet know that no matter how he explained, he couldn't save his life.
Letting him explain was just a formality.
Driven by the desire to survive, he confessed his story without reservation, "My name is Duane Davis. I used to be in the flour business in New York, but that was back in the seventies and eighties."
The interpreter, who was also half-assed, turned and said to the leader: "He works for a drug cartel."
"Estupido!" (Idiot)
The leader took a pile of tools from the table and threw them on the blood-stained tiles.
Rip—The black tape over Duane's eyes was torn off. Seeing the tools in front of him, he trembled even more violently.
Box cutters, daggers, IV tubing, chainsaws...
He could easily imagine how miserable his death would be.
"Who do you work for? Los Zetas? El Mencho?"
While the interpreter was asking, the leader was already squatting on the ground selecting tools.
"No no no... it's Frank Lucas. That guy's already in a nursing home." Duane's entire body of fat was trembling, and his terrifying gang tattoos looked as cute as Hello Kitty at this moment.
To survive, he could only beg desperately, "I can give you a large sum of money, dollars, cash!"
But this didn't seem to change the drug dealers' minds.
"Tell me, why did you come to Mexico?"
"I'm just a tourist..."
"Tourists don't carry this kind of thing around!"
Clatter—
Saying this, the man in the skull mask threw an extended mag Glock on the ground.
Duane's face turned ashen. Not telling the truth at this point was definitely not an option. "I got into some trouble. Someone paid me a sum of money to take out a competitor. Anyway, it's a very complicated matter..."
His lengthy defense was condensed into one sentence by the interpreter—"He says he's a professional hitman!"
It turns out translation is serious work; this sentence directly sentenced Duane to death.
The Sinaloa Cartel was in an all-out war with Los Zetas, and both sides were sending out large numbers of professional hitmen to hunt down each other's bosses, big and small.
"Disfrútala!" (Enjoy it)
The leader waved his hand, and two minions brought over IV tubing to deliver psychoactive drugs quickly to the brain.
Although an M4 rifle was pressed against his head, driven by a strong will to survive, Duane didn't care about anything anymore, kicking his legs and struggling desperately.
The leader pinched his cheek and used a box cutter to trace a circle along his jawline.
Ahhh—!!
Oh god please—!!
Duane screamed repeatedly, even more piercing than the wailing of slaughtering cattle.
Even the best hunters get a headache when processing animal hides; it is not only technical work but also physical work.
The adhesion between the skin and the muscle is difficult to handle.
But fortunately, the workload wasn't large, and the gunman leader easily completed the task.
He casually threw the "strip of cloth" onto the ground like tossing garbage.
Someone suddenly turned on the music player, and Guns N' Roses' classic work Sweet Child O' Mine rang out.
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Sweet child o' mine
Duane's voice gradually weakened, while Guns N' Roses' singing became higher and higher.
Interwoven, it was exceptionally eerie.
It lasted for five minutes. The tiles were covered in blood plasma, even messier and dirtier than the bathroom in Saw.
The leader dragged up the dying Duane, ignoring the clean and efficient chainsaw, and chose a rather dull short knife from the pile of tools.
He gestured back and forth at Duane, swaying left and right like playing the cello.
Zzz zzz—
In the hands of professionals, designated work can be completed without precise tools.
In less than a minute, Duane's command center lost connection with his body.
Meeting violence with violence, simple yet efficient.
It looked like two waves of animals hurting each other.
The leader touched his skull mask and showed it to the camera: "This is the fate of opposing us!"
Normally, even people with strong psychological endurance find it hard to last more than five minutes, but Leon fast-forwarded through it back and forth four or five times.
Real footage is more shocking than any B-grade gore film.
The video spread crazily and quickly attracted the attention of the FBI and DEA. An American citizen suffering such inhumane treatment in Mexico could easily cause a diplomatic incident.
But considering this was a wanted fugitive, the relevant departments suddenly didn't know how to handle it.
For a moment, they actually felt this was a good thing—it saved millions of dollars in case-handling expenses.
Before long, quite a few conspiracy theories appeared on Bluebird (Twitter).
Most people didn't associate it with Leon but blamed Diddy.
The bloody cases on Duane's hands were all instigated by Diddy. Now that he died in Mexico, it meant no one could step forward to accuse Diddy of being the mastermind behind the shooting of Tupac in 1996.
Leon sat on the sofa of his Beverly Hills mansion, enjoying fine wine while imagining how Jay-Z would feel when he saw this video.
Bloody revenge of this magnitude had never happened in the entertainment industry.
"Listen, you can't wear a tracksuit to attend tomorrow. It will lower the Academy's impression of you." Bonnie laid out several suits on the sofa.
Because Taylor had to shoot a music video for her new album and didn't have time to accompany Leon to the Oscars, the job of costume director fell on Bonnie.
"Do you think I look like a fool?" Leon was powerless to complain. Who would wear a thin tracksuit in this ghost weather?
"That suit we bought in the UK fits you well," Bonnie asked. "Do you have a pocket watch in your jewelry cabinet? Mind if I help you look for it?"
Leon tilted his head. "Of course not."
Five minutes later, Bonnie joyfully held a gold pocket watch. "Put this outfit on and let me see how it looks."
"Alright." Leon didn't want to fuss, but he had to agree to the other party's enthusiasm.
Newsboy cap, black suit, tweed vest, a shiny gold pocket watch hanging from his waist.
Looking at her work, Bonnie raised her head proudly. There was no moment more exciting for a beauty blogger than this.
"If anyone wants to make a movie about British gangsters, you are definitely the best choice for the male lead."
"I will never go to a film set to be a slave."
The next afternoon, Leon arrived at the hotel to rendezvous with the Straight Outta Compton team, and they took two limousines separately to the awards venue, the Hollywood & Highland Center.
"Don't be nervous. You will attend such occasions often in the future," Leon said to Anya beside him.
To let the British girl get familiar with the Hollywood ecosystem as soon as possible, he deliberately brought Anya along to show her face on the Oscar red carpet, which was watched globally.
"Damn... I've been waiting for this day for a long time." Jason Mitchell (playing Eazy-E) looked out the window excitedly. He hadn't attended such a grand occasion for a long time.
The media had almost forgotten there was such an actor in Straight Outta Compton.
In contrast, Chadwick Boseman, who played Dr. Dre , had smooth sailing, accepting four film offers in a row, all important roles.
Some media already regarded him as the next black tough guy superstar, expecting him to reach the height of "Blade" Wesley Snipes.
As soon as Leon appeared on the red carpet with Anya, the reporters' long guns and short cannons immediately surrounded them.
Even though he only appeared as a presenter tonight, his heat was far higher than the cast members of Straight Outta Compton.
"Mr. Leon, Straight Outta Compton has a good chance of winning tonight. Congratulations on achieving such a great victory with your first movie!"
Rarely did a reporter raise a topic related to the movie, so Leon also gave the other party due respect.
He walked to the microphone and said seriously, "This is not my personal victory, but a victory for the black community across America! Look at our leading cast. Have you seen a black movie with higher purity than this?"
Click click—Having finally gotten the chance to shoot close-ups, reporters snapped photos of his face frantically. "Do you plan to shoot more black-led movies in the future?"
"Of course. I call for every future movie to feature at least one black lead," Leon said. "Black achievements shouldn't be limited to basketball and rap; let them become great culturally again!"
A speech with a grand vision PUA-ed many leftist reporters. They genuinely hoped Straight Outta Compton could win the cup.
"Hey, Leon, we meet again~" Gal Gadot walked over accompanied by Vin Diesel.
The two hugged and exchanged cheek kisses.
"You are as beautiful as an elf tonight." Leon looked at Gadot in a long green dress, the platinum jewelry on her ears just right.
With a height of over 1.8 meters accentuated by high heels, she was as beautiful as an elven queen from a fantasy novel descending to the human world.
"Congratulations to you and your great team. You were shortlisted for two nominations. This is simply amazing!" Gadot suddenly leaned in and whispered, "I asked director Justin Lin of Fast & Furious to vote for Straight Outta Compton. I hope you can win tonight."
"Thank you very much. We must find a time to have a good chat."
One or two votes couldn't sway the final result at all, but Gadot's enthusiasm still warmed his heart.
As the red carpet segment deepened, more and more acquaintances greeted Leon.
Denzel Washington, the Pitt-Jolie couple, Megan Fox...
An Asian beauty also took the opportunity to walk over. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Leon. I've heard many of your songs."
"Thank you." Leon had no impression of the Asian beauty in front of him.
The Oscars are an international award, attracting famous filmmakers from all over the world.
Many of them are household names in their own countries, but few people know them in Hollywood.
A superstar like Jackie Chan appears only once in a century of film history.
"I am Li Bingbing. You can call me Li." Li Bingbing brushed her hair, revealing a sweet smile.
Seeing the atmosphere was a bit awkward, James Wan hurriedly ran over to introduce her: "Miss Li is a big shot in Asia. You might not know her well, but Resident Evil 5 starring her is about to be released, acting alongside Milla Jovovich!"
"She plays an important role in the movie, Ada Wong. If you know the Resident Evil game series, you definitely won't be unfamiliar."
After this introduction, Leon had a bit more respect for this Asian beauty.
It's not easy for Asians to make a name for themselves in Hollywood.
White leftist elites shout about racial equality, but doing it is completely another matter.
This was fully illustrated in Stallone's The Expendables.
A kung fu superstar known to everyone in Asia was reduced to a second-rate role. No wonder Jackie Chan refused Stallone's invitation.
"I have always appreciated your contribution to eliminating racial discrimination. I hope we have a chance to have a good chat."
Li Bingbing maintained a confident smile from beginning to end, which impressed Leon deeply. "Definitely. Who would refuse an invitation from a beauty?"
After Li Bingbing walked away, he whispered to James Wan, "I like this girl. She made a name for herself in Hollywood at such a young age."
"Young? Man, what are you talking about?" James Wan grinned and laughed out loud.
"Isn't she? She looks twenty-five at most."
"You can't judge the age of East Asians by appearance." James Wan wagged his finger. "Miss Li is already 39 years old. Calculating it, she could be your mother..."
"That's true." Leon nodded.
The age of East Asians is indeed a mystery. Jolie, who is two years younger than Li Bingbing, already clearly showed signs of aging.
After the red carpet segment ended, Leon took the creative team into the venue.
From afar, he saw Jeff in the first row waving at him.
Weinstein sat next to him, laughing with his mouth wide open while chatting with the actress beside him.
He looked confident about winning the cup.
Host Billy Crystal gave the opening speech, his sharp and humorous language winning bursts of cheers.
At first, some minor awards were presented, Best Visual Effects, Best Film Editing, Best Costume Design, etc...
Only the creative teams of Hugo and The Artist were seen taking turns on stage to receive awards; the stage seemed set up specifically for them.
The first half of the awards ceremony had nothing to do with Leon. He was busy chatting with the actress beside him.
He whispered with a wicked smile to Megan behind him, "Did you receive those samples I sent you?"
Megan gave Leon a playful punch grumpily. Those lingerie styles were so revealing it was hard to speak of them—they had completely lost the basic function of underwear.
"Don't talk about this here. What if others hear it!"
"This is just a normal commercial endorsement." Leon shrugged, his smile becoming happier.
The relaxed atmosphere became a bit wrong with the unveiling of the Best Original Score award. Presenter Will Smith suddenly queued Leon halfway through his speech.
Improvised stand-up comedy is an Oscar tradition, with guests livening up the atmosphere through some slightly offensive jokes.
However, Will's speech had broken through the scope of jokes.
"A criminal can also walk into the Oscar ceremony. It's like we've returned to the era when the Mafia controlled Broadway."
Clap clap clap—
The audience hadn't realized the seriousness of the matter yet, treating it as a dry joke, and applauded in unison.
"I am honored to present the Best Original Score award to The Artist team. Compared to certain businessmen who get rich by stealing black culture, it deserves the award more."
"As a black man, I have more say in my own culture than certain white people. Black culture is definitely not just about drug abuse, violence, promiscuity... Certain people who deliberately spread these cultures are smearing the image of black people!"
Although Will didn't name names, everyone knew clearly who he was targeting.
The Rap of America openly used black subculture as a selling point on streaming media, influencing countless teenagers.
Even his son Jaden was influenced by the show's slogan "Become who you want to be," embarking on the road of no return towards wearing women's clothing.
"Damn bastard." Leon sneered, watching Will perform quietly.
"The shooting that happened on Grammy night pains me deeply. White people stand on the podium enjoying flowers and applause, while it is young black men who bleed."
"This is simply a new-era plantation owner!"
The audience below whispered among themselves, their gazes unconsciously focusing on Leon.
Before he could do anything, Jason Mitchell (playing Eazy-E) couldn't sit still first.
Standing up from the audience seat, he pointed at Will's nose from a distance and cursed: "Shut up, bitch! Get off the stage and say it to my face!"
Leon stopped his excessive behavior in time. Who could refuse free traffic?