America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Chapter 114: Chapter 114: The Artistic Party

Friday, just as the sun reached its zenith, a coach bus traveled from Sacred Valley to Malibu Beachside and stopped in front of a solitary villa.

Jenna Jameson stood up from the front seat and shouted loudly, "Ladies, those who come here today are all big shots from Hollywood. If you can impress them... well, I needn't say more, you all understand."

She deliberately left her sentence incomplete, letting these young girls figure it out for themselves, so if their understanding was off the mark later, it would be their own mistake: "Also, after leaving this place, keep your mouths shut."

A total of 31 female artists got off the bus and came to the front of the villa.

Bruce stood on the porch, glanced at each one, and shook his head slightly; not one had a rear to rival Kim's.

As the female artists approached, Bruce blocked the entrance: "Leave all electronic devices, including your phones, here. I will take good care of them for you."

This had been discussed beforehand, so everyone took out their phones, placed them in labeled plastic bags, and wrote their names on them.

Bruce said to Jenna, "The stylists and costume designers have all arrived; take the girls over to them."

Jenna beckoned the others into the villa's temporary make-up room to get ready. They applied make-up, changed into special costumes, then went outside to become familiar with the venue in order to coordinate with the rehearsed acts.

More cars arrived in succession. Mene got off a box truck, directed the party company's employees to carry alcohol, beverages, and food, while another group set up the venue.

Mene came to the porch, opened a can of ice-cold cola, gulped down most of it in one go, wiped his mouth, and said, "Throwing this kind of high-class party, the money just isn't money, it goes like paper. If it were me, I'd have declared bankruptcy long ago."

He'd been involved from the start: "Old Cloth, those beauties included, fifty thousand US dollars won't be enough, right?"

Bruce said deeply, "You don't understand, this is called an investment, and with investments come returns."

Mene replied, "No wonder after years in the business, I'm still a damn bit part actor."

As evening fell, the guests Martin had invited started to arrive. Benjamin came first, greeting Martin with a hug as he entered.

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"I always said back in Atlanta that Martin Davis never forgets an old friend." Benjamin pulled out a fang pendant from around his neck, a gift from Martin: "Let's see which piece of shit dares to mock me now."

Martin smiled and said, "In a minute, I'll introduce you to a few friends, all from the movie industry."

Soon after, Robert Patrick showed up,

Michel Gondry and Alexander Aga arrived in the same car.

The last to come were Zomi Silla and Wes Craven.

Martin made introductions for everyone, with almost all the conversation revolving around Wes Craven and horror movies.

The group drank and waited for darkness to fall.

When the sky was thoroughly dark, Martin approached the door, clapped his hands loudly, and declared, "Gentlemen, tonight the ghosts and monsters are out. They're best at swallowing up a man's brother; I sincerely advise you to take good care of your 'brother'!"

Everybody burst into laughter.

Those who came to play were all uninhibited. Martin then said, "We have a competition—if anyone undresses first, they're treating everyone to a French meal at a Michelin-Starred Restaurant tomorrow."

Craven chuckled, "Great idea, let's see who can't hold out!"

Benjamin shouted, "Old Cloth, get me a chain lock, and once I've secured my trousers' waist, you hide the key."

Even Zomi, normally reserved, hugged Benjamin's neck and laughed.

Craven walked toward the door: "I'm definitely the last man standing."

Martin opened the house door; the large courtyard with a swimming pool was pitch-black, with only a sliver of a crescent moon in the sky, devoid of luster.

Alexander went out first, "In my 'Blood Moon,' two girls head out at night, and terrifying events suddenly erupt out of nowhere..."

Including Martin, everybody came out, and could vaguely see five people standing nearby on an open field, blocking their path.

All of a sudden, music exploded, and the blurry figures started to shake in unison.

Their joints were stiff as they moved, resembling zombies or humanoid robots dancing.

At that moment, the dim lights turned on, revealing five tall women in gray and white nurse outfits, their backs turned to Martin and the others.

As the music played, the women's bodies convulsed violently. It was as if each joint had a mind of its own, striving to break free from the enticing bodies, wielding inappropriately sharp knives to release violence.

Their twisted postures, decaying bandages, and slurred mutterings weighed heavily on the breath of the artists present.

Just then, the five nurses turned around simultaneously, raising their crescent-shaped daggers. They stepped forward with eerie, stiff gaits, advancing toward them step by step.

The dim light shone on their faces, swollen with tumors, an ugly and evil countenance contrasting sharply with their sexy, fiery bodies.

Michel, the romantic Frenchman, suddenly blurted out, "Why, why do I find myself foolishly attracted to them? Do I have a problem?"

Alexander admitted, "I do too."

The female nurses stopped five meters away. They brandished their crescent-shaped daggers mechanically, in a manner that seemed evil and cruel.

Yet, Benjamin couldn't help but clutch at his crotch, his hand firmly grasping his waistband. Not because he didn't want to be first, but because the treat was too expensive.

Martin, already a person of intense passion, found his breath growing noticeably hotter.

A group of perverts!

Craven watched the terrifying nurse with great interest and said, "This alone, tonight is worth it! Passion and death threats in one, Martin, you're really talented!"

"Guys, Lemon Acid Restaurant tomorrow, my treat," announced Patrick, an actor who wore his emotions on his sleeve, unbuckling his belt as he rushed forward: "I don't want to lose, yet I can't control myself."

He glanced at the sexy yet terrifying nurses: "Martin, you bastard, you make me feel like a freak."

Martin signaled everyone to pass by the nurses and head to the poolside. "Guys, lunch for tomorrow is sorted, but no one has offered to cover drinks for this evening."

There was a crisp snap that startled Zomi, who was closest.

He quickly stepped back.

A pale hand clawed onto the edge of the pool, pulling up a figure that climbed out slowly from the water.

The person kept their head down, soaking wet black hair hanging over their face, hiding it, while the wet white garment they wore was almost transparent, revealing yet concealing below.

Sadako climbed ashore, just like in the movies, crawling step by step toward everyone.

With a bang, a door of a nearby changing room swung open, and a blue-eyed, fanged vampire wrapped in leather and chains bounded out, in the midst of a fierce fight with a female werewolf, tearing apart clothing that fluttered everywhere.

The werewolf and vampire had taken the stage early, so Martin had to make the best of the mistake. After all, the effect wasn't bad.

The romantic in Michel rose to the surface; he stepped forward to the front of Sadako, looked at the wet hair covering the face, and said, "Sadako, it's time for you to show off your eloquence!"

Then he yelled at the vampire and werewolf: "Knock off the fake stuff, give me something thrilling, real weapons..."

The female werewolf and vampire completely disarmed each other and began a real fight to the death.

"I want to be a Demon Hunter!" Alexander Aga roared, plunging into the midst of the werewolf and vampire, brandishing a demon-slaying spear as he battled the dark and evil creatures.

The fight instantly escalated to fever pitch.

Footsteps came from the left side of the pool, as a group of ragged-clothed zombies staggered over.

Their skin was grayish-white, faces tinged with blue, lips smeared with blackish-red blood and bits of flesh.

Benjamin leaped forward energetically, shouting: "The zombies are mine; nobody else compete with me!"

The Sacred Valley version of Night of the Living Dead began in earnest.

Across the pool, spotlights turned on, illuminating a small makeshift stage where several Latina snake women ascended.

Their bodies were intertwined with pythons that covered the sensitive areas, and Zomi looked closely and realized the snakes were all coming out from that spot.

As if possessed by Salma Hayek, the snake women began dancing to the dance from "From Dusk Till Dawn."

That hit Zomi's sweet spot. Too lazy to circle the long pool, he jumped in, waded through waist-deep water, and climbed onto the stage.

To dance with the snakes.

Craven looked at Martin and said, "Why didn't I meet you earlier? Your party is so creative." He looked down at himself: "I usually don't get excited by ordinary thrills, but now I'm getting a strong reaction, Martin, you should throw more of these parties and invite me to every single one!"

Martin did not hesitate to respond: "No problem."

Throwing a few more parties like this would bankrupt him: "Wes, I've prepared a special gift for you today, follow me, your child is waiting."

The two crossed a patch of lawn and entered the villa's brightly lit lobby, where several female artists were present.

At the front of the lobby, Freddy and Jason were locked in a fight to the death.

Freddy's kettle-shaped claws plunged into Jason's flesh.

Jason's identical machete also pierced into Freddy's vitals.

Two of Hollywood's legendary psychos let out a thunderous roar of battle.

At this moment, several succubi rushed in from behind, pulling their long tail-like extensions, gripping the kettle-like tips, and ambushed Jason and Freddy from behind.

Freddy and Jason were abruptly attacked and extended their hands towards Craven, crying in a heart-wrenching tone: "Daddy, save me! Daddy, save me!"

In such a scene, what man could stand by?

He must become a hero!

The night wind blew through the windows, rustling Craven's silver-white hair. The old artist could no longer hold back and bellowed as he moved forward: "You hellspawn bitches, let go of my children! Where's my gun? I'm going to blow your brains out!"

The godfather of horror, vigorous despite his age, butchered the demons from hell and then consoled his children in the most fitting manner.

But strangely, the screams of Freddy and Jason grew louder.

Martin moved to another room.

A few blonde succubi were waiting for him there.

Caden Cross picked up a tail and bit into it.

This was an artistic party through and through, with both sides hailing from America's two holy lands of art.