Evening.
Martin, Nicholson, Leonardo, and Matt Damon went out for drinks together.
Of course, Martin still could only have juice or milk.
The one footing the bill was, as usual, the guy with the most NGs that day—undoubtedly, Leonardo.
In fact, ever since filming began, it was mostly Leonardo and Matt Damon taking turns to pay, with Leonardo picking up the tab more often.
"This isn't fair! Matt has way fewer scenes than I do, of course he messes up less!"
"The world was never fair to begin with," said Nicholson.
"Pay up, buddy, or else—" Martin raised his fist threateningly.
"Thanks for the drinks, Leo!" Matt Damon lifted his glass.
"F*ck you guys, you bastards!" Under the trio's pressure, Leonardo obediently paid up.
Not that he really minded the money—this was just guys messing around. That's how brotherhood grows: through roughhousing and banter.
As Martin, Leonardo, and Nicholson grew more in sync, the filming pace picked up significantly.
That day, the crew was granted a rare break—three days off.
Martin, Leonardo, and Matt Damon crowded around Nicholson.
Martin asked, "Hey old man, where's the party at?"
Nicholson replied, "On a yacht, of course. Only at sea can we avoid those pesky paparazzi and gossip hounds. I borrowed Spielberg's mega yacht for this one, and I've invited over fifty sexy female models. Just us four guys. Buckle up, fellas, hope you can keep up."
At that, Nicholson instinctively glanced at Martin and thought, Three days off… Could this kid actually manage to conquer fifty in one go!?
Then he shook his head—No way. Not even a stud horse could pull that off.
Yeah… he seriously underestimated Martin.
"Jack, what's the party theme?" Leonardo asked.
"Heh heh, since we're at sea, naturally the theme is Pirates and Their Slave Girls!" Nicholson grinned wickedly. "Bet none of you have tried that one before, huh?"
"Tch!"
Martin and Leonardo each flipped him off with a middle finger.
Only Matt Damon, the "honest guy," blurted out, "Never tried it!"
Nicholson immediately slung an arm over Matt's shoulders and said warmly, "Matt, you're a good kid. Uncle Jack'll show you the ropes!"
Matt Damon gave a big, wholesome grin.
The guy's got a face that screams "nice guy," which makes it all the more deceptive.
…
Spielberg's yacht was a far cry from Martin's modest boat.
This beast cost $230 million, stretched 109 meters long, and burned 700 liters of fuel per hour—with a carbon footprint that could give the whole Green Party a heart attack.
Ironically, Spielberg always calls himself an environmentalist.
At the moment, the yacht was teeming with gorgeous women. Though it was spring and the waters near New York were still chilly, the girls wore skimpy outfits like they didn't even feel the cold.
The four men were already dressed in pirate attire.
Nicholson had gone full pirate, complete with a rusty black iron hook on his right hand. He cackled maniacally, swiping the hook everywhere he went.
Wherever he went, the girls squealed and scattered, giggling.
"Ladies, lovely ladies, don't run! Come receive your punishment from the great Captain Jack! There's treasure, endless treasure—first come, first served!"
He hollered while prowling the deck, dead set on capturing a beautiful "slave girl."
Leonardo, meanwhile, was dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow—yes, that Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean—with heavy eyeliner and flamboyant gestures. And he actually pulled it off.
He didn't need to chase anyone. Just standing there was enough to draw a crowd. That's the magic of "Jack."
Matt Damon had gone with a one-eyed pirate look, wearing an eye patch and a plastic dagger at his waist. At the moment, he was making out with a hot girl.
Martin's pirate look was the most unique: just blue board shorts, fearlessly showing off his ripped upper body to the chilly sea breeze. Like a god from Mount Olympus surveying the mortals below.
In one hand he held something like a royal scepter, and on his head was a plastic crown. He sat regally on a deck chair on the yacht's second level while a line of "subjects" queued up for an audience with their king.
"My lord, your most loyal subject, Karina, greets you."
"Hello, Karina. You may rise."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
Karina stood and gazed at Martin, seated in majestic stillness, sunlight glinting off him like golden trim on his form.
My God, he's so handsome.
Karina was sure she was looking at the sun god Apollo…
…
The yacht cut through the waves.
The wind picked up. The ship began to rock.
Seagulls cried overhead.
A dolphin leapt from the water, tracing a graceful arc through the air.
Amid the rising cries of surprise and excitement, Martin closed his eyes halfway and used magic to check his body.
He could clearly feel it—as this marathon went on, his mana was steadily increasing. His magic reservoir was gradually filling.
Soon, word of Martin's exploits began to spread among the girls. One after another, curious and disbelieving, they joined the line to see for themselves.
"Why do I feel like the crowd's thinning out?" Nicholson wondered aloud as he continued playing chase with the girls. But gradually, he noticed fewer and fewer were around.
What the hell?
Just then, he saw Matt Damon hurrying along the outer deck with a look of shock on his face.
"Guys, you won't believe what I just heard—Martin's in the middle of a marathon—a full-on f**ing marathon*. He's…"
As Matt explained, Nicholson and Leonardo's jaws dropped.
The nearby girls looked at one another, exchanged knowing glances, and began quietly slipping off toward the front deck, one by one.
"No way. He's gotta be pulling some kind of stunt," Nicholson refused to believe it.
"Yeah, no frickin' way!" Leonardo agreed.
"But that's what all the girls are saying!" Matt insisted.
"Did you see it with your own eyes?" Leonardo asked.
"Uh… no, not really…" Matt admitted.
Nicholson shouted, "You totally got duped! I don't know how he pulled it off with the girls, but they're obviously in on it!"
"Well, let's just go see for ourselves," Leonardo said.
The other two nodded.
…But where the hell is everyone?
That's when the three realized—in the time they'd been talking, all the girls on the rear deck had vanished.
Only the three of them remained, standing there, all alone.
Now that was going too far.