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Martin entered the venue, where Drew Barrymore rushed up, breathless. "Boom, Martin, boom!"

Caron Diaz, curious, asked, "What's booming?"

"The box office is about to explode!" Drew exclaid. "I just got word—over 3,000 early screenings with 90% attendance. The Joker is going to crush it! Theater chains are calling, begging us to rush more prints."

"Wow, Martin, congrats!" Caron bead.

"Congrats to us," Martin corrected. "You're the leading lady, Popo."

"Haha, right, congrats to us!" Caron laughed.

"Enough mutual back-patting," Drew interjected. "I'm calling the print factory to work overti and get fresh copies to theaters by tomorrow. God, an R-rated film! Even District 9 didn't ignite like this. Unreal!"

Drew was ecstatic.

Never underestimate Martin yers' influence on moviegoers. dia outlets marveling at The Joker's frenzy agreed. Fueled by the Super Bowl ad and online debates, a dark storm was about to sweep North Arica.

Warner CEO Alan Horn approached Martin, grinning. "You're our genius. I've never seen an R-rated film this embraced by the masses. You might set a new record!"

Martin shrugged calmly. "The last record was mine too."

Horn blinked, then laughed, recalling The Matrix, which shattered R-rated film records. "Fair point. Breaking records is old hat for you. But good news: Warner's adding $10 million to marketing and distribution to fully support yers Entertainnt's expansion."

"No issue there," Martin teased, "but profit splits stay the sa."

"Of course!" Horn chuckled.

Nearby, Drew overheard, pumping her fist. "Yes!" With Warner's backing and yers Entertainnt's dia resources, The Joker would dominate North Arican airwaves for a month post-premiere.

As the lights dimd, the film began. Daniel Kaluuya, seated with the crew in the fifth row, buzzed with excitent. "God, I'm thrilled! My first theatrical release! My mom's gonna be so proud."

Like 80% of Black Arican kids, he had no father.

[TL/N: I laugh a little at this paragraph, pls don't call racist.]

"Your first? Didn't you do that… what was it, Killing Gun News?" Chris Pratt, beside him, asked.

"Uh, that was a British indie film, never hit theaters," Daniel admitted, embarrassed.

"Chill, little man," Pratt said, half-comforting, half-bragging. "You're just a side role here—three minutes of screen ti, maybe one if we're counting face shots. No big deal. ? I had over eight minutes in Wanted with Martin, and he punched !"

Daniel frowned. Eight minutes was brag-worthy, but getting punched by Martin? Why boast about that?

Pratt, catching his confusion, scoffed, "You don't get it. In the yers clan, it's an honor to be hit by Martin. Think Matt Damon, Ben Affleck."

"Wow, big stars," Daniel said.

"Exactly. How do you think they got there?"

"Because Martin punched them?"

"Bingo."

Superstitious like many, Daniel pondered Pratt's words. Is there so mysticism here? Should I get Martin to punch too?

In the back rows, Daniel Mann stared at the screen, buzzing with anticipation. His roommate, Adam Davis, was calr. Though initially hooked by The Joker's 30-second trailer, his excitent had faded, replaced by doubts about a villain-led comic book film.

"Dude, I'm regretting snagging these premiere tickets with you," Adam said. "Eighty bucks! I might suffer through 120 minutes."

"Co on, what's that nonsense?" Daniel snapped. "Do you know how lucky we were to get these? They're scalping for $400 outside! And you loved the trailer!"

As Martin's loyal fan, Daniel was annoyed by Adam's hesitation. "It's just a trailer," Adam countered. "Online, people said trailers are the best bits. Crappy movies can have great trailers. They've got a point."

"Shut it, man. We're here, money's spent. Just watch and see if it's good," Daniel grumbled as the screen lit up.

The Joker was set in 1980s Gotham—economic decay, soaring prices, stark wealth gaps, rampant unemploynt. Sound familiar? Yes, it mirrored Arica's current reality.

The protagonist, Arthur, a kind young man, lived with and cared for his ailing mother, Penny. A clown-for-hire in Gotham, his dream—echoing his mother's hopes—was to spread joy. Plagued by ntal illness, his uncontrollable behaviors made him a laughingstock, often at the worst monts.

Onscreen, Arthur applied makeup before a mirror, hooking his fingers into his mouth to force a wide grin. "You can do this, Arthur," he told his reflection.

The screen darkened. Bang, bang, bang. Subtitles appeared:

Line one: Joker.

Line two: "A Martin yers Production," in bold, massive font.

The audience stirred with anticipation.

[TL/N: I'm planning to stop uploading after this chapter, but I'll still translate a few more until the end of this screening arc. I don't want to disappoint my readers too much, especially since I've already been on hiatus for 1 month.]

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