Victor woke before the alarm, his mind already racing with ideas. The previous day's revelations had left him too wired for a full night's sleep, but he felt surprisingly refreshed. He showered quickly, dressed in the best outfit his limited wardrobe offered—dark jeans and a navy button-down that looked professional without trying too hard—and headed out the door.
The morning air carried that distinctly Los Angeles crispness that would burn off by noon. He navigated through early traffic toward Westwood, where he'd arranged to meet Bruce at a quiet café called The Daily Grind. He'd texted Bruce late last night.
Victor arrived twenty minutes early, claimed a corner table with good privacy, and ordered a black coffee. He spread his notes across the wooden tabletop, organizing them into what he hoped was a coherent plan. Bruce Lee—not yet the icon he would become—represented both an incredible opportunity and a unique challenge.
"Focus on his authenticity," Victor muttered to himself, circling a note. "That's the selling point."
The bell above the café door jingled. Bruce entered, scanning the room with the alert precision of someone constantly aware of his surroundings. He wore simple athletic clothes—black track pants and a fitted gray t-shirt that revealed his lean, muscular physique. Several customers glanced up, something about his presence demanding attention even though no one here would recognize him.
"Morning," Bruce said, sliding into the seat across from Victor. His voice was measured, direct. "You're early."
"So are you," Victor replied with a smile. "Thanks for meeting me."
Bruce nodded once, eyes flicking to the papers spread across the table. "You've been busy."
"I've been thinking about your career path," Victor said, pushing a coffee toward Bruce that he'd ordered in anticipation. "About how to position you in a way that respects your martial arts while still breaking you into film."
Bruce's expression remained neutral, but his eyes sharpened with interest. He leaned forward slightly, hands clasped on the table.
"I'm listening."
Victor leaned forward, studying Bruce's attentive expression. This was a pivotal moment—the first real test of his approach with a client who could become legendary with the right guidance.
"I see two potential paths for you," Victor said, tapping his finger on the notepad. "The first is what I'd call the safe route." He took a sip of coffee, organizing his thoughts. "We start you in minor roles—mostly as background fighters, henchmen, small antagonists. Nothing flashy, just building your resume and face recognition."
Bruce's expression remained neutral, but Victor caught the slight tightening around his eyes.
"This approach means paying dues. You'd be playing by Hollywood's established rules, that means fighting as they tell you." Victor continued. "After you've built recognition and some industry clout, we'd leverage that to gradually introduce your authentic fighting style. Directors would be more willing to take chances on an established actor."
Victor slid a rough timeline sketch across the table. "Realistically, this path gets you to your ultimate goal—bringing true martial arts to the big screen—in about ten to fifteen years."
Bruce picked up the paper, studying it with the same intensity he might analyze an opponent's fighting stance. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the tabletop, the only outward sign of his processing this information.
"Fifteen years is..." Bruce finally spoke, his voice measured but with an undercurrent of disappointment. "That is a long time to compromise."
Victor nodded, understanding Bruce's sentiment. The man across from him wasn't just talented—he was driven by a vision, a philosophy about martial arts that went beyond mere physical movements.
Bruce set the paper down and met Victor's gaze directly. "You mentioned two paths." His voice remained even, but there was a new edge of curiosity. "What is the second option?"
Victor smiled, leaning back in his chair. The safe route was what any agent would propose. But he wasn't just any agent—not anymore.
"The second option," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "is we do it ourselves."
Bruce's eyebrow arched slightly.
"We make our own movie," Victor continued, energy building in his voice. "You wont just be the star—you'll be the fight choreographer too. Complete creative control over every punch, kick, and movement."
Victor spread his hands wide, painting the vision in the air between them. "We showcase your authentic style exactly as you want it seen. No compromises, no watered-down sequences designed by people who've never thrown a real punch."
Bruce leaned forward, interest clearly piqued, but wariness still evident in his posture.
"The risk is enormous," Victor acknowledged. "But so is the reward. If we succeed, we don't just get you a role—we redefine action cinema. You wouldn't have to spend years convincing directors to let you show real martial arts because you'd have already proven it works."
Bruce's fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping. His eyes narrowed in thought, calculating possibilities. After a moment of consideration, he crossed his arms over his chest.
"And how exactly would we fund this... independent production?" Bruce asked, his tone measured but skeptical. "Films cost money. A lot of money."
The question was direct, practical—exactly what Victor expected from someone as disciplined as Bruce. It wasn't a rejection of the idea, merely the first logical hurdle to overcome.
"That," Victor admitted, "is where things get challenging. But I've been thinking about our options."
Victor reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table toward Bruce.
"I have something for you. A script," Victor said, watching Bruce's reaction carefully. "I think it could be perfect for us."
Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly as he reached for the envelope, his movements precise and economical. He opened it and pulled out the script, glancing at the title page.
"Project - Raid," he read aloud, looking back up at Victor with a questioning expression.
"It's about a rookie SWAT officer who joins a team tasked with infiltrating a high-rise building," Victor explained, leaning forward with growing enthusiasm. "The building is controlled by a ruthless drug lord who's basically turned it into a fortress."
Bruce began flipping through the pages, scanning scenes with focused attention. Victor continued painting the picture.
"The mission goes sideways almost immediately. The team gets ambushed, communications cut off, and suddenly our hero is trapped inside this criminal hive with no backup." Victor's hands gestured as he spoke, illustrating the vertical nature of the building. "He has to fight his way through floor after floor of increasingly dangerous opponents—all with different fighting styles."
Bruce paused his page-turning, his interest visibly piqued.
"There's also a twist," Victor added. "Our hero discovers his estranged brother is a key member of the gang. They form this uneasy alliance to survive, which creates this incredible tension throughout the second act."
Bruce set the script down, his expression thoughtful. "This would require extensive fight choreography."
"Exactly," Victor nodded eagerly. "That's where you come in. Not just as the lead actor, but as the fight choreographer. Every combat sequence would showcase authentic martial arts—your vision, your philosophy, your execution. No Hollywood fakery."
Bruce ran his finger along the edge of the script, considering. "This would be... challenging to film."
"Absolutely," Victor agreed. "But that's what makes it revolutionary. No one's seen action sequences like what you could create with this. It's the perfect vehicle to introduce real martial arts to audiences who've never seen the genuine article."
Bruce flipped through the script, his brow furrowing slightly as he reached the end much sooner than expected.
"This is..." Bruce tapped the edge of the script against the table, measuring his words. "It seems a bit thin for a full movie script."
Victor couldn't help but laugh, nodding in agreement. "That's by design, actually. The beauty of this concept is its simplicity."
He leaned forward, tapping the script with his index finger. "We open with just enough story to establish the characters and mission—maybe fifteen minutes tops. After that?" Victor made an explosive gesture with his hands. "It's straight-up action. No bullshit, no unnecessary romantic subplot, no drawn-out philosophical monologues. Just pure adrenaline from that point forward."
Bruce's expression remained skeptical, though Victor noticed a spark of interest in his eyes.
"Look," Victor continued, lowering his voice slightly, "I'm going to be straight with you. I've seen the videos you sent me. You're an exceptional martial artist—possibly the best I've ever seen. But as an actor?" He shrugged. "You're still a rookie. This format plays perfectly to your strengths while minimizing your weaknesses."
Bruce's jaw tightened momentarily, but then relaxed as he considered Victor's words. He nodded slowly, appreciating the candid assessment.
"Instead of asking you to carry emotional scenes or deliver complex dialogue, we're creating a showcase for what you do best," Victor explained. "The audience will be too busy picking their jaws up off the floor during your fight sequences to worry about anything else."
Bruce thumbed through the script again, this time with more interest. "And you believe this... minimalist approach will work?"
"I do," Victor said with conviction. "Sometimes less is more. This isn't about making a traditional film—it's about creating something that's never been seen before. A pure expression of martial arts on screen."
*****
Victor watched Bruce flip through the script again, his eyes scanning the pages with greater intensity this time. The martial artist's expression shifted subtly—brows furrowing in concentration, then relaxing as he considered the possibilities. Victor recognized that look. Interest. Genuine interest.
Bruce finally set the script down on the table between them, his fingers lingering on the cover for a moment before he looked up.
"I like the concept," Bruce admitted, his voice measured but carrying a hint of enthusiasm that hadn't been there before. "The simplicity appeals to me. No distractions from the martial arts."
Victor felt a surge of excitement, but kept his expression professionally restrained. This was the opening he needed.
"So you're in?" Victor asked.
Bruce's expression clouded slightly. "The issue remains the same." He gestured at the script with one hand. "Where will we get the money to make this movie? Even a stripped-down production requires funding." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I'm just barely getting by teaching classes and doing demonstrations. I don't have savings to contribute."
Victor had anticipated this question. The financial reality had been the first obstacle he'd considered when formulating this plan. In his previous life, he'd watched countless independent films struggle with budgeting issues, and he knew exactly how difficult securing funding could be.
He leaned forward, a confident smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He'd been waiting for this opening.
"I've already worked out the budget," he said, tapping his finger on the table for emphasis. "We can make this for around a hundred thousand dollars."
Bruce's eyes widened, and he let out a short laugh of disbelief. "A hundred thousand? For an entire feature film? You're joking, right?"
"Dead serious," Victor replied, his voice steady. "Look at what we need here—no elaborate sets, minimal special effects, no expensive costume changes. The story is stripped down to its essence."
Bruce shook his head, unconvinced. " And who would act in it? Professional actors cost—"
"That's where your connections come in," Victor interrupted, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Most of the characters in this script don't need to be great actors—they need to be great fighters. And you know dozens of them."
Bruce's expression shifted from skepticism to curiosity.
"Your friends from the fitness world, your martial arts friends and students, the guys you train with," Victor continued. "These people have been fighting and training for years. They know how to move, how to sell a hit. And the best part? They'll do it for free."
"Free?" Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "Why would they—"
"Because it's a chance to be in a movie," Victor said, leaning back. "Because it'll be like a fun activity where they get to show off their skills. Think about it—instead of hiring actors who we'd have to train to look like fighters, we use real fighters who already have the skills and just need minimal coaching on camera presence."
Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "My students would jump at the opportunity," he admitted. "And I know several who are naturals at performance. The authenticity would be undeniable."
Victor nodded eagerly. "Exactly. Real martial artists performing real techniques. No camera tricks, no stunt doubles. Just pure, authentic action that's never been seen on screen before."
Victor could feel the momentum building as Bruce considered the possibilities. This was the perfect moment to address the remaining concerns.
"For the few characters that actually need acting chops," Victor continued, leaning forward with growing confidence, "I'll pull talent directly from CAA's roster."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "CAA actors working on a no-budget film?"
"Think about it—the agency has dozens of actors, directors, and crew members who are exactly where you are right now. Talented people desperate for their big break." Victor gestured emphatically. "They'll work for free because what they're really getting is a chance to prove themselves. This becomes a crucial point on their resume, something that showcases their abilities."
Bruce's skepticism began to fade as Victor pressed on.
"As for equipment, I checked last night. CAA has cameras, lighting kits, sound equipment—all available to lend to their talent for various projects. We can borrow most of what we need directly from the agency. It is just budget equipment, barely good enough for us, but it will have to do."
Victor watched as Bruce processed this information, the martial artist's expression shifting from doubt to calculation.
"The agency would allow this?" Bruce asked.
"They invest in their talent all the time. This is just another form of investment." Victor tapped the script. "Besides, when this succeeds, CAA benefits. Their unknown actors become known, their martial artist becomes a star, and their rookie agent..." Victor smiled, "becomes someone who delivers results."
Bruce uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing. "So we use my martial arts connections for the fighters, borrow equipment from CAA, and pull in hungry actors for the few speaking roles."
"Exactly. Everyone involved gets something valuable—experience, exposure, a chance to be part of something groundbreaking." Victor leaned back, giving Bruce space to consider. "No one makes much money upfront, but everyone gets a shot at something bigger."
Bruce picked up the script again, flipping through it with renewed interest. Victor could see the calculations happening behind those intense eyes—not just financial ones, but creative possibilities unfolding.
"What about the remaining costs? Locations, props, set design—even if we get free actors and borrow equipment, we still need money for those things."
Victor nodded, having anticipated this question. "That's where the hundred thousand comes in. I'll cover it."
Bruce's eyes widened. "You'll cover it? How?"
"Credit cards, personal savings, a few personal loans," Victor said matter-of-factly, as if discussing lunch plans rather than a significant financial risk. "I've run the numbers. It's tight, but doable."
Bruce set the script down, studying Victor with newfound intensity. "You'd put yourself in debt for this? For someone you just met?"
Victor held Bruce's gaze. The question hit deeper than Bruce could know. In his previous life, Victor had played it safe, made cautious moves, and ended up with nothing but regrets. This time would be different. He would either succeed, or lose everything trying.
"I believe in this project," Victor said. "And I believe in you. Sometimes you have to take risks to create something worthwhile."
Bruce shook his head in disbelief. "That's a serious financial commitment."
"Look, if the film succeeds—and I believe it will—I'll recover the investment and hopefully turn a profit. But even if it doesn't make money, it'll put both of us on the map." Victor leaned forward. "This isn't just about money. It's about creating something authentic that showcases real martial arts. Something that's never been done before."
Bruce drummed his fingers on the table, his expression thoughtful. Victor could see the martial artist was impressed by his commitment, perhaps even moved by it.
"Most agents wouldn't take this kind of personal risk," Bruce said quietly.
Victor smiled. "I'm not most agents."