Matt Damon hurried out of the bathroom, weaving his way back into the crowded banquet hall. Earlier, he had struck a deal with Ben Affleck: Ben would convince Charlize Theron to comply with their dubious plan, while Matt kept watch and ensured she ended up in Harvey Weinstein's company.
Unfortunately, a questionable slice of leftover pizza at lunch had disrupted Matt's plans. A sudden stomachache forced him to rush to the restroom, leaving Ben to handle things alone. Now, anxious about his hot-headed partner, Matt hastened back, hoping nothing had gone wrong.
As he approached the scene, a wave of relief washed over him—everything appeared normal. The corner where the curtain concealed Ben and Charlize was undisturbed.
Then, with a loud bang, a figure was hurled out from behind the curtain.
A nearby dining table crashed to the floor, sending an assortment of delicate dishes scattering.
Matt froze, eyes wide. The man lying sprawled amidst the wreckage was unmistakable—it was Ben.
But instead of rushing to help, Matt instinctively blended into the crowd, keeping a safe distance. It wasn't about disloyalty, he reasoned. He needed to assess who had dared to attack Ben before deciding whether to intervene. Jumping in blind would only risk dragging himself into trouble.
It was this cautious, calculating approach that kept Matt Damon's career intact during the later fallout of the #MeToo movement, while Ben Affleck's reputation and opportunities crumbled.
As the commotion drew the attention of partygoers, Harvey Weinstein pushed through the throng, his gaze locking onto the disheveled man on the floor. His expression darkened.
"Who dares to disrupt my banquet?" Harvey's rage flared, but he held back upon seeing Martin and Charlize Theron emerge from behind the curtain.
Martin's calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the chaos. He pointed to Ben Affleck and addressed the crowd.
"This man tried to force himself on Miss Theron," Martin began. "When she resisted, he attempted violence. Miss Theron defended herself, and when he turned on her again, I intervened. He attacked me as well, leaving me no choice but to defend myself."
The banquet's reporters perked up, sensing a headline-worthy story in the making. A scandal involving Hollywood stars at a celebration? This was gold.
From his position in the crowd, Matt Damon clenched his fists in frustration. Why is Ben always so impulsive? he thought, a knot forming in his stomach.
Ben needed to deny everything, Matt reasoned. If he could firmly discredit Martin's claims and cast doubt on Charlize's account, the incident could be smoothed over. Harvey's influence and a well-orchestrated media spin would bury the story in no time.
But Ben Affleck wasn't one for calculated restraint.
Rising unsteadily, Ben fixed Martin with a venomous glare. "Martin, this has nothing to do with you! Stay out of it, you meddling bastard!"
His anger boiled over, clouding his judgment. Instead of retreating, Ben lunged at Martin, fists swinging.
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
Nicole Kidman, watching nearby, started forward, only for Tom Cruise to grab her arm.
"What are you doing, Nicole?" he asked with thinly veiled amusement.
"I'm going to stop him," Nicole replied, concern evident in her tone.
Tom smirked. "No need. Let them sort it out. It's none of our business."
Privately, Tom enjoyed the spectacle, convinced that Ben's imposing size would make short work of Martin. The thought of Martin getting pummeled almost made him chuckle.
Many shared Tom's sentiment. At 6'3" and heavily muscled from years of fitness training, Ben Affleck seemed an unbeatable force. Martin, barely 5'7" and wiry, looked hopelessly outmatched.
Yet reality defied expectations.
As Ben charged, Martin deftly sidestepped, his movements quick and precise. With a sharp knee strike followed by an over-the-shoulder throw, he sent the larger man crashing to the floor once more.
The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs.
"Did you get that on camera?" one reporter whispered urgently.
"Damn, I missed it—they moved too fast!"
"I got it! This is worth a bonus," another chimed in, holding up his camera triumphantly.
Ben staggered to his feet, shaking off the daze like an enraged bear swiping at bees. He charged again, only to be met with Martin's flawless spinning kick. Ben flew back, sprawling for the third time.
"Bruce Lee!" Quentin Tarantino, standing near Harvey, exclaimed with unabashed admiration. A long-time fan of Hong Kong cinema, Tarantino recognized Martin's move as a tribute to the legendary martial artist—executed with stunning precision.
Quentin's creative mind buzzed with inspiration. Perhaps Martin could cameo in his next project, a homage to action cinema.
Martin, meanwhile, seized the opportunity to showcase his prowess. With Hollywood increasingly dominated by action films and superhero franchises, he saw potential to transition his career into this lucrative genre.
Ben groaned on the floor, too battered to rise. His impulsive outbursts had cost him dearly.
Watching from a distance, Matt Damon sighed. This was going to be a PR nightmare.
𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧