The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 20: Starting a Business in Los Angeles]

In late March, Los Angeles, East Hollywood.

In the parking lot of Ranch Park, Frank Brown sat atop his RV, gazing across Fountain Street at a two-story house across the road that had new tenants moving in.

The newcomer had short black hair, a lean face, a muscular build, and an unassuming demeanor. He blended in easily with the crowd. When the man finally emerged through the security gate and glanced his way, Frank generously offered a middle finger in salute.

Hawke caught sight of the old chubby guy, reciprocating with two middle fingers of his own as he walked over to his used Mondeo parked by the roadside, starting to unload his belongings.

He had one bag filled with clothes and essentials, while the rest of the boxes contained tools for the media profession.

Once inside the house, Hawke first took his clothes upstairs to organize them, then began unpacking the electronic equipment wrapped in bubble wrap. Among them was a portable camera given to him by Eric, along with surveillance gear, a professional camera, long lenses, storage drives, a camera phone, a fax printer, a mini tape recorder, a laptop, and more, all purchased in Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

During this time, Hawke had spent a considerable amount of money. He had signed a one-year lease for the house, set up a workbench and storage shelves in the living room, and installed internet cables and a router.

East Hollywood was away from the poverty-stricken downtown area and close to the affluent neighborhoods of Silver Lake and Beverly Hills, the crime rate was relatively low. Still, Hawke decided to install hidden cameras both inside and outside the house.

He placed cameras and camcorders in accessible spots, reinforced the locks on the doors and windows, and replaced the locks altogether. After that, he dug out a Glock pistol, performed some maintenance on it, and planned to take the California gun certification test to obtain a legal firearm.

Once he finished all that, Hawke stood in the middle of the living room and realized he was missing a safe. He would have to buy one later.

Hawke opened a bottle of water, sat down at his workstation, powered up his laptop, and logged into his blog. He had posted nearly thirty articles, garnering an insignificant number of views primarily due to the lack of explosive news.

He wrote a new post: "Starting a business in Los Angeles, West Coast Media Entertainment Studio in preparation."

After posting, he closed the webpage and began searching for updates and news about Buddy Ackerman, Robert Downey Jr., Matthew Broderick, and Barack Bernanke. This trip to Los Angeles had just two main goals for Hawke: to take down those four scoundrels and to earn wealth and power.

With the 74th Academy Awards approaching, there was a surge in entertainment news online.

Hawke quickly found a trending article featuring Robert Downey Jr. Downey, at an Oscars pre-event, declared himself a strong fighter battling addiction, promising a rebirth!

The news included several photos of Downey entering and exiting a gym, with one where he appeared sweaty after a workout. His dad, Downey Sr., made an appearance to support his son, claiming Downey's addiction issues stemmed from genetics, blaming himself as the father.

The media praised Downey Jr. for confronting his issues, reclaiming his identity, and promised he would rise from the ashes. The narrative of a wayward son returning was timeless.

Hawke clicked on one image, examining the gym sign that read "Tracy Gym," located in Westwood. He checked and noted Downey's publicly listed residence was in the wealthy Brentwood neighborhood.

Next, he searched for Buddy Ackerman and stumbled upon a recent piece that mentioned Barack Bernanke alongside him. This was news from a little over a week prior, where Ackerman, accompanied by his daughter and Bernanke, attended a press conference announcing he had overcome illness and regained health, pledging to donate 30 million dollars to help leukemia children with bone marrow matching.

Based on the report, Hawke speculated that Ackerman had found a suitable organ donor. Still, the subsequent mention of bone marrow matching couldn't help but invoke thoughts that the old squid was still searching for a blood bag.

Moreover, some media outlets hinted that Los Angeles might grant Buddy Ackerman an honorary key to the city, in gratitude for his contributions to society and charity over the years.

Then, Hawke came across news about Matthew Broderick, who had accompanied his star wife Sarah Jessica Parker at the premiere for the new season of Sex and the City. The couple was surrounded by cameras, dressed to the nines with jewelry and luxury watches, exuding wealth.

Leaning back in his chair, he felt his sturdy physique and the beating of his heart. The brush with losing either had made him more determined than ever -- not just to roast the squid, but to bring those scoundrels to ruin.

If he could take out Robert Downey Jr. and Buddy Ackerman and somehow got lucky, what would that look like? The former could very likely, like Heath Ledger or Paul Walker before him, be fondly remembered by countless fans, with The Singing Detective raking in profits and elevating his status in film history.

The latter would be lauded as a paragon of morals and charity, a beacon of light and justice, with descendants inheriting a multi-billion dollar fortune to enjoy a life of luxury.

Hawke was not naive, nor was he overly idealistic. The thought of this scenario gnawed at him, more unbearable than a loss of ten billion.

He closed unnecessary tabs, leaving only the web page featuring Robert Downey Jr., the man who had once pushed him to the brink.

The targets naturally had to start with the easiest to deal with. With his current level of strength, even with knowing the enemy and him in the shadows, he had no chance against Buddy Ackerman.

Compared to actual high stakes business battles, cutting off power or unplugging cables were mere child's play. In the realm of customary business conflicts here, mud trucks were common, and explosions, plane crashes, shootouts, and backstabbings were not unusual.

He recognized that to dismantle the Ackerman family, he needed to generate income and grow.

With that thought, Hawke grabbed his cell phone and made a call to a real estate agency to arrange a meeting later that afternoon.

After grabbing some lunch outside and taking a moment to rest, he drove his black Mondeo straight to the agency on Highland Avenue. As long as he provided the necessary paperwork, the agency would handle all the procedures for registering the studio.

On his way, he passed by the Hollywood Walk of Fame, which, although not as poor as the ghettos, still had a fair share of homeless people.

After turning onto Highland Avenue in front of the still-named Kodak Theatre, he parked in front of an office building.

Hawke arrived at the agency, found the associate who was supposed to assist him, and presented all the documents he had prepared in advance.

The agent, Milner, reviewed everything and asked, "Have you settled on a company name?"

Hawke replied, "West Coast Media Entertainment Studio."

Milner quickly wrote it down. "What's the business focus?"

Hawke thought for a moment. "Media dissemination, crisis public relations consulting, and business strategy planning."

Milner curiously inquired, "Are you looking to branch into politics as well besides entertainment?"

Hawke remarked, "Power is something that, if the opportunity arises, who would refuse it?"

"True," Milner nodded in agreement, though in his mind he scoffed, knowing countless such studios popped up in Los Angeles each year, with only a handful surviving.

But Hawke was well aware that his current focus had to be on entertainment, as his primary target was still entertainment celebrities. Moreover, Ackerman's family's empire was heavily invested in entertainment, especially with Ackerman Films leading the charge.

After Hawke paid the agency fees, Milner reminded him, "Keep your phone handy. We might need to reach you at any time."

Hawke signed off on the contract and left the agency.

He glanced at his text notifications: over the past two months, he'd spent on training, buying a car, renting an apartment, and acquiring equipment, even paying taxes to make his identity more solid. His savings had dipped below the warning level of ten thousand dollars.

Both the car and the equipment would soon serve crucial roles, and he couldn't afford to buy subpar items.

Hawke ordered a safe and drove over to Westwood, easily locating the Tracy Gym.

When he tried to enter, the guard stopped him; the gym only admitted members. The lowest membership tier was $5,000, and he needed an existing member to sponsor him.

After observing for a bit, he returned to his car, pulled out his camera, and quietly snapped a few pictures of the gym and the surrounding environment.

Next, he headed over to Brentwood, following the address to Robert Downey Jr.'s lavish public residence. He took several photos but kept his distance, noticing several surveillance and electronic security features around the property.

People with money were often more cautious about their lives.

As for Buddy Ackerman, he lived on Sunset Boulevard in Beverly Hills, within a gated community with frequent police patrols and tight security measures.

On his way back to Fountain Street in the afternoon, Hawke picked up a slew of entertainment gossip magazines.

These tabloid publications had impressively grandiose titles that made them appear to be reputable outlets at first glance.

For instance, there were National Enquirer, World News, and US Weekly, among others.

*****

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