The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 727: Counterattack

A man burst into the ABC headquarters in Burbank.

"Bill, cut to a breaking story! Now!"

He rushed over to the news anchor, who was standing in the middle of the studio, and spoke quickly. "We're breaking away from the current segment. I'm patching in a live feed from the scene—the entertainment channel crew and their van are already there!"

The anchor, Bill, was surprised to hear that the entertainment division was feeding into his news broadcast, but he didn't question it. Without missing a beat, he announced, "This is ABC News. We're interrupting our scheduled program for a breaking story. We're going live to one of my colleagues on the scene."

The moment he finished speaking, the broadcast cut to a street in Burbank, and the sharp crack of gunfire immediately filled the air.

In the television department on the third floor of the Century City Mall, a crowd had gathered, taking advantage of the air conditioning to escape the heat and watch the displays. They were clustered around the screens, watching the four major broadcast networks.

Suddenly, the chatter died down. Nearly every eye in the department was glued to the image that had just appeared on the screens.

"This is Sigurdsson with ABC Entertainment, reporting live from..."

The voiceover provided a brief, urgent summary: "Matthew Horner was attacked by armed assailants today while on his way to the Angel Agency."

On screen, viewers saw Matthew Horner and another man—half his body drenched in blood—crouching behind a Mercedes-Benz. Gunshots rang out, bullets slamming into the car's frame. Fortunately, the heavy vehicle was holding up under the assault."Is that..." someone exclaimed in disbelief. "Is Matthew Horner being attacked? This has to be for a movie, right?"

It was a reasonable assumption. After all, this was exactly the kind of movie Matthew Horner was famous for.

But the ABC reporter's voiceover insisted, repeating that this was not a film shoot, but a real-life attack.

A middle-aged man chimed in, "It's over for them. The attackers have automatic weapons, and that bodyguard next to Horner is half dead already. They're done for."

"No way," a younger man countered. "Matthew's tough. He's a master martial artist and he's had professional military training. I heard he can take on two or three guys at once."

The middle-aged man just shook his head. "You actually believe that stuff? Movies and real life are two different things." He pointed at the screen, where Matthew was huddled behind the car.

"Look at him, just cowering on the ground. Some action hero. Some martial arts master. He's probably pissed himself by now—"

But the man's taunt died on his lips. He froze, as did everyone else. Even the ABC reporter's voiceover cut off mid-sentence.

Because on the screen, the very man he'd been mocking, Matthew Horner, had just exploded into action. He rolled forward, surging toward one of the thugs and tackling him to the ground.

As Matthew grabbed the assailant's head and slammed it into the pavement, the young man shouted triumphantly, "See that?! I told you! Matthew's the real deal, even off-screen!"

The middle-aged man just stared, dumbfounded, at the unconscious man on the screen.

"Yeah!" someone yelled. "Get 'em, Matthew! Kill those terrorists!"

"That's right! Take them down!"

A chorus of shouts erupted.

Ever since the September 11th attacks, any incident labeled as terrorism could strike a raw nerve with the American public.

Applause suddenly broke out. It wasn't just the young people; even the middle-aged man who had just been sneering at him was now clapping.

"So, they really can be heroes in real life," the middle-aged man murmured. "I seriously underestimated Matthew Horner."

The young man chuckled. "Watch more of his movies and read the news about him. You'll see just how tough he is."

The older man didn't reply, just gave a slow, deliberate nod.

The room fell silent again in the next moment as the live feed switched to a higher-angle camera. A picture-in-picture box appeared, showing the ground-level view alongside a near-panoramic shot of the entire scene.

There were still two assailants. One, a bald man, was clearly armed with an AK-series rifle. The other, a Latino man, was using the covering fire to prepare for a charge on the Mercedes.

The bodyguard's return fire had suddenly ceased, either from blood loss or because he was out of ammunition.

Even though the people watching were not soldiers, they knew instinctively that Matthew was in an incredibly dangerous and vulnerable position.

Matthew glanced over at John. The bodyguard's pistol was out of ammo, and reloading one-handed would take precious seconds.

Matthew was no stranger to firearms. He'd honed his skills over years at a shooting club and was one of the most accurate marksmen he knew. He couldn't compare to an elite soldier like Brown Williams, of course, but for an amateur, he was top-tier.

But he'd only ever shot at paper targets.

In a critical moment like this, there was no time to hesitate. Without a second thought, Matthew prepared to fire. In a flash, he dropped back into a crouch, shifting his position slightly to take cover behind the front wheels of the Dodge.

The crack of a rifle round echoed almost instantly.

Matthew knew the M9 in his hand was no match for an assault rifle.

But he had no choice. The two gangsters had been using their Ford for cover while firing on John. Now, he saw one of them about to break from that cover, preparing to charge his position.

Staying put wasn't an option. Matthew had already formulated a plan.

Counting silently to three, he dropped flat onto the concrete pavement, aiming his pistol through the small gap beneath the car. He waited for a pair of legs to appear.

Matthew squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The shot rang out. The Latino man cried out and collapsed. Before he could even register where the bullet had come from, Matthew fired again.

Matthew had never shot a person before. Despite his mental fortitude, his hand still trembled slightly as he fired.

The second shot missed the man's chest and stomach, but it grazed the top of his right arm—the one holding the pistol.

The sudden return fire made the bald man flinch. He glanced toward his fallen comrade, confused about where the shots were coming from.

He swung the assault rifle around, preparing to spray the area with bullets.

But before he could squeeze the trigger, another shot cracked through the air. A sharp pain lanced through his calf, and his leg gave out, sending him tumbling to the ground.

As the bald man fell, he caught a glimpse of a figure with a pistol under the Dodge. Despite the searing pain, he aimed his weapon, intending to fire back.

But another shot rang out. The bald man felt a heavy impact, and then everything went black.

Matthew slowly uncurled his fingers from the pistol's grip. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

The composure and cold focus he'd felt while shooting seemed to evaporate.

He had shot countless people on film sets, but this—the real thing—was entirely different.

But Matthew was a seasoned actor, a star whose public persona was built on unshakable confidence. It took him only a few deep breaths to regain his composure.

Of course, deep down, something inside him was still churning.

Before he even pushed himself off the ground, Matthew turned his head toward the reporter and yelled, "Call an ambulance!"

Two of his bodyguards had been hit because of him. He had to show the media that he was concerned.

The reporters were stunned, standing frozen as if they hadn't heard him.

"Is that... it?" a reporter named Carl asked his colleague, still in a daze.

"Three armed terrorists, and Matthew Horner just took them all down by himself?"

His partner craned his neck, staring. "Looks that way."

The ABC reporter was the first to snap out of it, immediately calling for emergency services.

***

Back in the Century City Mall, the live feed from ABC News continued to play across the wall of television screens.

The gunfire had stopped. Onscreen, Matthew Horner was still lying on the ground, a pistol in his hand.

But then the electronics department erupted in cheers. To see a familiar face act like a real-life hero, taking down three attackers in a row—it was more than enough to send a jolt of excitement through the crowd.

People started buzzing, talking about Matthew's incredible marksmanship, his flawless skills...

***

Matthew pushed himself up slightly but didn't get to his feet. Instead, he leaned back, resting against the front tire of the Dodge. He raised his wrist to check his watch: less than ten minutes had passed since the first shot was fired.

Where the hell was the LAPD?

Another thirty seconds passed before the distant wail of sirens could be heard. But before the cars arrived, a few officers on foot sprinted onto the scene and began to secure the area.

It was only then that Matthew learned there hadn't just been three attackers. Accomplices had staged a car crash on a nearby street to delay the police response.

This was probably the most serious incident in Los Angeles since the North Hollywood shootout.