Chapter 33 – Jose's Rage and the Reporter's Sharp Eye
The moment Ramirez pressed the button, a harsh zzzt cut through the air.
A burst of sparks followed.
The film camera in front of him suddenly began to smoke.
Everyone on set froze.
Ramirez stood there completely stunned, his mind going blank.
"Ramirez—what the hell is this supposed to be?!"
Jose didn't understand filming equipment, but he rushed over immediately, staring at the smoking camera in disbelief.
"I… I don't know," Ramirez stammered, sweat already pouring down his forehead.
In his heart, he was already thinking that maybe it'd be better to grab a gun and end it himself later—
because if he fell into Jose's hands like this, he wouldn't just die. He'd suffer first.
Before either of them could say more—
BANG!
One of the fill lights aimed at the actors suddenly exploded.
The loud crack sent everyone jumping in shock.
"Holy Virgin Mary—what the hell is going on?!" Jose shouted, fury flashing across his face.
And before the echo faded—
The boom microphone hanging above the actors crackled violently.
Bzzzt—pop.
Just like the camera, it began spewing smoke.
A burnt, acrid smell spread across the entire set.
"Damn it!" Jose roared, veins bulging across his forehead.
"What the hell is happening?!"
But in the chaos, Ramirez saw a sliver of hope.
If only the camera had broken, Jose would never believe he was innocent.
But now that multiple pieces of equipment had failed at the same time—
That meant he could shift the blame.
"Cousin," Ramirez said quickly, forcing himself to sound steady,
"this batch of equipment… it looks like someone tampered with it."
For once in his life, Ramirez had the presence of mind to think fast.
Jose turned toward him—
—and suddenly kicked over a standing light with all his strength.
"Damn it!" he bellowed.
"Someone dared to screw me over?! Fuck!"
Meanwhile—
At the gates of the studio lot, a white BMW 3 Series convertible rolled in smoothly and parked in the lot.
The engine cut off.
Nicole Kidman stepped out of the car and headed toward the new soundstage.
Unaware that, elsewhere in the Valley, someone's carefully built dream had just gone up in smoke.
Halfway there, Nicole suddenly noticed that the soundstage across the way—Top Gun's—was completely surrounded by reporters.
It was packed so tightly that there was barely any room left to move.
Most likely, the film was about to officially begin shooting, and the studio had invited the media to build momentum and generate buzz.
Nicole watched for a moment, then shook her head and turned away, heading into her own soundstage.
A few days earlier, if she had chosen Tom Cruise instead of William, she would be standing under those flashing lights right now—side by side with him, smiling for the cameras.
But she didn't regret her decision.
Yes, hitching herself to Tom Cruise would have sent her soaring higher right now.
But she'd thought it through carefully—if she relied on him, she would almost certainly be labeled a decorative accessory. A vase. A pretty face attached to a male-led blockbuster.
That wasn't what Nicole Kidman wanted.
After all that hesitation, she chose William for exactly this reason.
William hadn't turned her into a background ornament in a "great man's" movie.
Instead, he had practically written a script for her, made a film about her, built a story where she was the absolute core.
That alone moved her deeply.
Of course… the fact that William's looks were no less impressive than Tom Cruise's didn't hurt either.
What Nicole didn't notice, however, was that as she entered the soundstage, someone had already spotted her.
Not far away, a blonde woman with big waves in her hair was holding a microphone, speaking toward a cameraman—a chubby man lugging a shoulder-mounted camera—as she recited a prepared segment.
"Hello everyone, this is Samantha Worth.
Today marks the official start of filming for Top Gun, and we're bringing you firsthand coverage from the set—"
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
"Wait—Larry. Look. Isn't that Nicole Kidman?"
Worth recognized Nicole's silhouette instantly.
Larry turned his head to look.
"…Yeah. I think it is."
"Let's go—now!" Worth said excitedly.
"This is huge. One of my sources listed her as the female lead, but the woman standing next to Tom Cruise earlier definitely wasn't her."
She was already moving, her voice buzzing with excitement.
"They swapped the actress at the last minute!"
The two of them hurried after Nicole, half-walking, half-jogging, and quickly arrived at the entrance of a new soundstage.
"Umbrella?" Worth frowned at the sign on the door.
"Larry, have you ever heard of this studio?"
"Uh… no," Larry replied, scratching his head while keeping the camera balanced.
"Probably some no-name indie outfit."
What Larry didn't realize was that he'd already watched Umbrella's films—on videotape—and had gone through quite a lot of tissues doing so.
Also worth noting: Larry was white.
"Let's go in," Worth said decisively.
She pushed the door open—
—and was immediately stopped.
Alexei stepped forward.
He didn't recognize them, and they were carrying a camera and microphone. Combined with the swarm of reporters across the way, their identities were obvious.
"Private production. No interviews," he said in thick, accented English.
As he spoke, he reached out and blocked the camera lens with his hand.
"Hey, handsome," Worth tried smoothly,
"Don't be so rigid. Cut us some slack. You're not even shooting yet."
She pointed toward the unfinished indoor set still under construction.
"Step back," Alexei said coldly.
"Any further, and you'll regret it."
He pulled his suit jacket aside just enough to reveal the grip of a handgun.
Larry and Worth immediately sobered up.
"Alright, alright—easy," Worth said quickly, raising both hands.
"We're journalists, not troublemakers. Is your boss around? Could you let him know we're here?"
Alexei hesitated.
William had never given explicit instructions to drive all reporters away.
After a brief pause, he took out his radio and began speaking in Russian to Sergei.
---
Inside the office, William was editing footage on a machine.
A large portion of the editing work for the Valley films was still done personally by him.
Partly because editors in this era lacked many modern concepts.
But more importantly—
This editing style was one of the core secrets behind why his Valley films sold so well.
Before these techniques were fully copied by others, William intended to squeeze out every dollar he could.
Because once you start making real movies, money doesn't get spent—
It gets burned.