Atlanta, Gray Film and Television Production Center.
For the filming of "The Dark Knight," the crew rented out seven stages, three large and four small, for setting up scenes.
The main Gotham City streetscapes were shot in the Heights and on Peachtree Street.
Nolan had wanted to shoot in Chicago and London, but Warner and Legendary had signed a long-term contract with the Gray Film and Television Center.
Inside Stage Six, filming had already begun.
On set, Martin sat atop a mountain of bills, plucking several and tearing them into pieces, tossing the shreds from up high.
The multicolored paper fragnts fluttered down like celestial maidens scattering flowers.
A few henchn approached, pouring prop gasoline over it.
Martin clicked his lighter open, closed it to snuff out the fla, then clicked it open again.
He kicked a wad of bills into the air and, with arms spread, said, "This city reeks of vice, it's nauseating. I'm going to bring so fun to the city."
The mob boss ca in from outside, yelling, "You promised you'd give the money back!"
"Relax, relax, my word is my bond," Martin laughed heartily, spreading his arms, "Half of this is mine."
The mob boss tried to go forward to grab the money.
Martin's hand moved lightning quick, the lighter in his hand magically transforming into a gleaming silver pistol, while the other hand gestured with shaking fingers, "One thing about , I keep my promises!"
The mob boss's face, eyes transfixed on the money, was consud by greed.
Martin leapt down, sliding along the pyramid of bills, and piles of currency crashed down like cascading sand.
The mob boss said, "I don't care about your half, but you must give mine."
Martin laughed maniacally: "Of course, I'll give it to you. I'll use it to cleanse your soul. You've been tainted by the stench of this city, ssed up in the head."
The mob boss made a move, but Martin pointed the gun at him.
With a reverse grip, Martin used the butt of the gun to strike the boss on the head, who fell into the hill of bills.
Before the man could rise, Martin shot each of his legs, "As I said, I keep my promises—you'll be together with your half forever."
The gun vanished from his hand, and the lighter reappeared, "The flas will bring freedom to this city. The fireworks bursting into bloom will declare the ascension of the entire city's taste!"
"Cut!" Director Nolan shouted to stop the shooting, "Martin, that was good, but I need it to be better. Let's take it from the top!"
The lighter spun between Martin's fingers as he grinned, "No problem."
The laughter was chilling to the bone.
Martin stood still on the set, and everyone, from the crew to the other actors, steered clear of this man who exuded an aura of madness and gloom.
Half an hour later, the set was reset, and Martin climbed back to the top of the money hill to reshoot the scene.
After three takes, Director Nolan finally declared it good.
Subsequently, the scene concluded amidst roaring flas.
Martin returned to his resting place, took the water bottle Bruce handed him, took a sip, and said, "Burning money is f***ing exhilarating, too bad it's fake."
Bruce suggested, "You now have a net worth of tens of millions of dollars. You could exchange it all for cash, pile it up in your backyard, and burn it for fun."
Martin replied, "Let's just go burn down the Federal Reserve."
"You could blow up the White House, kill the Great Commander, and you might survive," Bruce earnestly said, "But if you ss with the Federal Reserve, you are a dead man. Not even God can save you."
The old black man by his granddaughter ca over to say hello: "Hey, Martin, long ti no see."
Martin turned around and gave Morgan Freeman a wide grin.
He would be filming soon and hadn't removed his makeup. Over the past two months, he'd gotten used to it; at this mont, his grin looked especially terrifying.
Adina was so scared she retreated, grabbing Freeman's hand and hiding behind him, not daring to show her face.
Having seen much in his ti, Freeman steadied himself and said, "Martin, you scared her."
"Sorry, it wasn't intentional." Martin's smile deepened and beca even more fearso: "I just wanted to spread so joy."
Freeman said, "The way you bring joy is quite unique."
Martin put away his smile, "It's better to enjoy life than to wear a frown."
Freeman agreed with this sentint and glancing at his grandniece, said, "Maybe one day you can teach so of your ways to enjoy life?"
Martin smiled faintly: "In that regard, you're my teacher."
Changing the topic, Freeman asked, "We've been shooting for a few days, and I've noticed sothing—the Joker has more scenes than Batman."
"Co-leads," Martin said, "though Batman represents justice, and I represent chaos and evil."
Freeman reminded him, "The Joker."
Martin corrected, "Right, the Joker."
Freeman had been in the previous film: "It's not just the number of scenes, but it seems even Batman's power levels have been toned down."
"It's to highlight... um, the Joker," Martin said casually, "If Batman is too powerful and acts without restraints, how can the Joker compete?"
Hearing this, all of Freeman's doubts while reading the script vanished. He understood, "The director and screenwriter have bounded Batman by all sorts of rules, in the na of justice, to restrain him. The Joker as the villain, however, acts without any reservations, not even having to worry about Batman killing him."
"Pretty much," Martin felt that Director Nolan had given Batman a reverse hack to highlight the Joker.
Perhaps this was the ultimate clash of good versus evil.
Soon, Martin was on set again to shoot, most of which involved scenes of the Joker entangled with gangsters.
In the eyes of the Joker, the Gotham gangsters who commit cris for money had exceptionally poor taste.
After finishing the day's shooting, before Martin went to remove his makeup, he beckoned the following screenwriter over and stretched out his hand: "The record, hand it over for to see."
The screenwriter promptly placed the notebook in Martin's hand.
Martin flipped through it, handed it back, and said, "Add a sentence, 'Martin is deeply imrsed in the Joker character, suddenly feels that the formally dressed, almost angelic Bale is annoying, as if bringing the characters' feud into reality.'"
The screenwriter took out a pen and quickly noted it down.
By the ti he looked up, Martin had already walked away.
He was puzzled, Martin clearly wasn't lost in the character, his mind was very clear.
It seed he could separate the character from himself quite distinctly.
After removing his makeup, Martin stepped out, ready to get in the car, when he saw Christian Bale.
As a "good friend" in the crew, Martin took the initiative to invite, "Free tonight, I'll take you to a club in Atlanta."
The crew was coming and going, Bale seed friendly: "Any good places?"
Martin's smile was radiant: "I'll take you to a club."
Hart and Carrington, having achieved success, seldom perford on stage anymore, but they taught many students.
A few days ago, at a dinner with everyone, Martin heard them ntion that there were gays among the students.
Bale thought it better not to take the risk, this was Martin's turf after all, and said, "So other ti, today I have arranged to discuss roles and scenes with Michael Caine."
Martin didn't insist: "You can go whenever you have ti."
Each went their separate ways.
Bale entered the shooting studio.
Martin left the production center and headed for the Northville Community.
Cadillac sponsored the crew's vehicles.
The black Escalade stopped at the entrance of the Carter Family's house, but Martin did not hurry inside. He stood at the door and scrutinized the orderly yard with lush green grass, seeming to see nothing out of the ordinary.
He shouted, "Holle, co out!"
The door creaked open, and Holle, almost as tall as Harris, poked his head out and said, "Co quickly, Elena has prepared a sumptuous dinner."
Martin pointed at the ground in front of him: "You idiot, is there any hidden trouble with the earth?"
Holle replied, "I'm not that bored."
"If there's a pit on the ground..." Martin's smile turned sinister: "You know the consequences."
Holle, who grew up under many of such iron-fisted teachings and had the least authority at ho, quickly withdrew his head at the sight of Martin's disturbing smile.
Martin walked on, and without any surprises, entered the house.
"Didn't think you, an idiot, could actually grow a brain!" He placed the gifts he brought on the table and asked, "Where's Elena?"
Elena popped her head out from the kitchen, commanding like the head of the house: "Dinner's almost ready, you two idiots go wash up."
Just as Martin was about to walk away, she said, "That smile of yours is hideous. Wipe it off before I can't help but smack you."
Holle muttered, "He smiles like a creep."
After washing up, Martin erged to find Elena had already laid the dinner on the table, dominated by at, accompanied by vegetables and fruits.
Holle remarked, "You haven't cooked in a long ti. Whether Martin is here or not, it really does make a difference."
Elena remained in her typical style: "Shut up."
Holle sat down to eat, muttering as he did so: "Lily has it good, living freely in Los Angeles."
Hearing Lily's na, Elena looked at Martin and asked, "That idiot hasn't called, how is she doing?"
"She's good," Martin said as he took a bite of roast at, familiar flavors to his taste: "No one dares to bully her."
Elena comnted, "I've never been worried about her being bullied."
Holle chid in, "If she's not bullying soone else, she's having a good day."
Martin kept nodding and said, "Lily found a job as a sculptor in the production crew, she can make a good amount of money. Probably won't need you to worry about next year's tuition fees."
Elena said, "Let her co back for the sumr vacation. If she doesn't, you escort her onto the plane."
Martin casually agreed.
With these two sisters, speaking rudely to each other and resorting to iron-fisted teachings at the drop of a hat, it was best for him not to get involved.
Elena went over to the fridge and brought back a cocktail, placing it in front of Martin: "I've mixed a new type of cocktail, try it."
Martin took a small sip and said, "It has a mainstream taste."
Elena comnted, "One of the Coca-Cola's manufacturers is planning to launch a new bottled cocktail, aiming for popular tastes to get sales."
After finishing the drink, Martin said, "In this area, you know much more than I do now."
Not long after dinner, Holle was sent by Martin to a room on the first floor to do howork.
He then took Elena's hand, and they went upstairs together.
The Sect Hierarch of the Cola Cult was going to check the work of his saintess.
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