Victor watched Bruce depart with a sense of accomplishment warming his chest. The martial artist had agreed to the project, albeit with cautious optimism. It was more than Victor could have hoped for at this stage. He remained seated, allowing himself a moment to process what had just happened. The first domino had fallen perfectly.
The Daily Grind hummed with morning activity around him – the hiss of espresso machines, murmured conversations, the occasional burst of laughter. Victor absently traced the rim of his coffee cup, mind racing with all the tasks now looming before him. Location scouting, equipment requisitions from CAA, coordinating with Bruce's martial arts connections – the list seemed endless. The next few months would be chaotic, exhausting, and absolutely critical.
But that was tomorrow's battle. Today, he still had another meeting to navigate.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a figure slipped into the chair opposite him – the same one Bruce had vacated minutes earlier. Victor looked up to find Scarlett Johansson settling in, her golden hair catching the morning light streaming through the café windows. She wore casual clothes – fitted jeans and a simple blouse – but still commanded attention without trying.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, her distinctive husky voice instantly recognizable. "Traffic was a nightmare."
Victor straightened in his seat, shifting mental gears. Where Bruce represented raw physical talent, Scarlett was all about emotional depth and screen presence. Two wildly different clients requiring completely different approaches.
"No problem at all," Victor replied, offering a warm smile. "I just finished up with Bruce. Perfect timing."
Scarlett placed her bag on an empty chair and looked at him expectantly, those striking green eyes studying him with a mixture of hope and wariness. Victor recognized that look – the cautious optimism of someone who'd been promised things before, only to be disappointed.
This time would be different, he silently promised. For both of them.
Victor observed Scarlett as she stirred sugar into her coffee, noting how her nervousness manifested in small gestures—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, how her eyes darted occasionally to gauge his reaction. He decided to ease into their conversation.
"How's the morning shift treating you?" Victor asked, gesturing around the café.
She rolled her eyes. "The usual. Some guy tried to explain espresso to me even though I told him I've worked here for two years." Her smoky voice carried a hint of amusement despite the complaint.
"The curse of the service industry," Victor said with a sympathetic smile. "Though I suspect you won't be wearing that apron much longer."
Her expression shifted, hope flickering across her face. "You think so?"
Victor leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "I've gone through all your sample videos, Scarlett. The audition tapes, those indie scene readings—everything."
She tensed visibly. "And?"
"You've got it. That indefinable quality that separates stars from actors." Victor spoke with quiet conviction. "Your emotional range is extraordinary. Even in those rough cuts, you have moments where you completely disappear into the character."
Scarlett's cheeks flushed slightly, but her eyes remained locked on his, searching for any sign of insincerity.
"I'm not blowing smoke," Victor continued. "You have what it takes to be great—not just good, but truly great. The camera loves you, but more importantly, you understand human complexity. That can't be taught."
Her shoulders relaxed as relief washed over her face. "So what's next? Can we start looking for auditions? I've been practicing monologues like crazy, and I've saved enough to take a few days off for callbacks if needed."
The eagerness in her voice was palpable, reminding Victor of just how young and hungry she was—a struggling waitress dreaming of something more, unaware she possessed the talent that would someday captivate millions.
Victor watched Scarlett's expression shift between hope and uncertainty. He recognized that delicate balance—the hunger for success tempered by the fear of disappointment. He'd seen it countless times in his previous life, but this time, he could actually do something about it.
"I gave Bruce two options earlier," Victor said, folding his hands on the table. "And I want to offer you the same courtesy."
Scarlett leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What kind of options?"
"Option one is the standard route," Victor explained, his tone measured. "We hit every audition possible, regardless of the role. We keep pushing until something sticks." He paused, noting how she nodded along, clearly familiar with this approach. "But there are two significant issues with this path."
Victor took a sip of his cooling coffee. "First, when you do land a role—and you would eventually—it would likely be because of your looks rather than your talent." He gestured toward her, matter-of-fact. "You're beautiful, Scarlett. That's undeniable. But it means most directors will see you as eye candy first, actress second. The roles you'd get at first wouldn't showcase what you're truly capable of."
A flash of recognition crossed her face—she'd clearly thought about this before.
"Second," Victor continued, "this industry is harsh to everyone, but it's doubly cruel to women. For every role, you'll face hundreds of equally talented actresses, many willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead." He held her gaze steadily. "And since you've made it clear you won't trade favors for parts—which I respect completely—you'll be at a disadvantage. Even if you're the best actor at an audition, that doesn't guarantee you'll get the role."
Scarlett's jaw tightened slightly. She looked down at her coffee, stirring it absently.
"That's... depressingly accurate," she admitted, her smoky voice quiet. "So what's option two? Please tell me it's better than that bleak picture you just painted."
Victor smiled, feeling a rush of anticipation. This moment—watching talent discover the perfect role—was why he'd become an agent in the first place.
"Option two is more direct," he said, reaching into his bag. "I have a script. There's a role in it I think would be perfect for you."
He pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table between them. Scarlett looked at it with equal parts curiosity and suspicion.
"What is it?" she asked, not reaching for it yet.
"Something different. Something that would showcase exactly what makes you special as an actress."
Scarlett hesitated for another moment before picking up the envelope. She slid out the script and studied the cover page. A single word stared back at her in bold letters: SAW.
"Saw?" she read aloud, her brow furrowing.
"It's a psychological thriller," Victor explained as she began to flip through the first few pages. "The story centers around two men who wake up chained in a disgusting bathroom with no memory of how they got there. They soon discover they're pawns in a sadistic game orchestrated by a brilliant but twisted mind."
Scarlett's eyes widened as she scanned the pages, her expression shifting from confusion to intrigue.
"The role I have in mind for you is Amanda Young," Victor continued. "She appears to be a minor character at first—a survivor of one of the killer's previous 'games.' But she's actually pivotal to the entire story. She requires this incredible range—vulnerability, trauma, rage, and eventually a disturbing transformation."
Victor watched as Scarlett's face changed with each page she turned, her eyes growing more focused, more intense.
"This isn't a glamorous role," he added. "It's raw, it's brutal, and it requires you to go to some dark places emotionally. But it would showcase your range in a way that pretty romantic comedies never could."
Victor observed Scarlett's face as she read through the script pages, watching her expression transform from skepticism to fascination. Her fingers traced lines of dialogue, pausing occasionally at particularly intense scenes. This was the moment he'd been waiting for—when an actor first connects with a character that could define their career.
"This is..." Scarlett looked up, her green eyes wide with intensity. "This is unlike anything I've ever watched before."
"That's exactly the point," Victor said. "The industry is saturated with the same recycled stories. This is something genuinely new."
Scarlett flipped back to an earlier page. "Amanda's character arc is incredible. She starts as this victim but becomes something else entirely." She tapped the page with her fingernail. "The scene where she reveals her true nature—that's the kind of moment actors dream about."
Victor nodded, feeling a surge of satisfaction. He'd gambled correctly. "Most agents would push you toward romantic comedies or token girlfriend roles. You'd get work, but you'd be replaceable. This role would make people see you differently."
"But this is so dark," Scarlett said, though her tone suggested this wasn't a complaint. "Horror films aren't exactly prestigious."
"This isn't just a horror film," Victor countered. "It's psychological. It explores human nature pushed to extremes."
He could see her considering his words, weighing them against her own ambitions.
"How would this even get made?" she asked, practical concerns emerging. "Who's directing? What's the budget?"
"All of that is currently in the works," Victor said, keeping his voice confident but measured. "I'm actually producing another film with Bruce—a martial arts action piece that showcases his authentic fighting style."
Scarlett's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're funding a film yourself?"
"I am," Victor nodded, seeing no reason to hide his strategy. "I'm putting together a small budget—using my own funds and some creative financing. It's a calculated risk, but one I believe in."
He traced the rim of his coffee cup with his finger, organizing his thoughts. "The plan is straightforward. We make Bruce's film with minimal budget but maximum impact. The fighting choreography will be unlike anything audiences have seen before."
Victor watched understanding dawn in Scarlett's eyes. She was quick—another quality he admired about her.
"Once completed, I'm taking it directly to Netflix," he continued. "They're hungry for original content, especially films that can perform well internationally. The streaming model changes everything—we don't need theatrical distribution to succeed."
Scarlett nodded slowly, following his logic. "And if Netflix buys Bruce's film..."
"Then we use those funds to produce SAW," Victor finished for her. "One success finances the next. Bruce's film serves as proof of concept—showing we can deliver quality with limited resources."
Victor saw the wheels turning behind Scarlett's eyes as she processed his strategy. He wasn't promising overnight stardom or empty Hollywood dreams. He was offering a concrete path forward—unconventional but logical.
"It's ambitious," he admitted. "But I believe in both projects. More importantly, I believe in the talent behind them."
Victor held his breath as Scarlett stared at the script, her fingers tracing the edge of the pages. The morning bustle of The Daily Grind faded into the background as he watched her weigh his proposal. This was the moment that would determine whether his ambitious plan would take flight or crash before it even began.
After what felt like an eternity, Scarlett looked up, determination hardening in her eyes.
"I'm in," she said, her smoky voice firm with resolve. "This character—Amanda—she's complex in ways I've never seen before. I want this role."
Relief washed through Victor like a cool wave. Two clients, two agreements. The pieces were falling into place.
"There's something you should understand, though," Victor said, leaning forward. "We're looking at about a six-month timeline before we can start production. Bruce's film needs to be completed and sold first."
Scarlett's expression flickered with disappointment, but she nodded. "I understand. What should I be doing in the meantime?"
"Making yourself the best possible Amanda Young," Victor replied without hesitation. "I want you to take intensive acting classes—method, classical, emotional memory techniques—all of it." He gestured to the script. "Keep this. Study it. Live with this character until you know her better than you know yourself."
Victor watched Scarlett's eyes light up at the challenge. This wasn't the reaction of someone who saw acting as merely a ticket to fame—this was the look of an artist eager to perfect her craft.
"I can do that," she said, carefully placing the script in her bag. "I've been saving up for more advanced classes anyway."
"Consider this your unique advantage," Victor continued. "Most actors get a script and have weeks to prepare. You have months. When cameras finally roll, I want you to deliver a performance so undeniable that it silences every doubt in the industry."
Scarlett nodded, a new confidence settling over her features. "I won't waste this opportunity."
With their professional discussion concluded, Victor felt the atmosphere shift to something more relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, noticing how Scarlett's posture had changed too—the tension in her shoulders easing as she took a sip of her coffee.
"So aside from slinging coffee and memorizing scripts, what else fills your days?" Victor asked, genuinely curious about the woman behind the talent.
Scarlett smiled, a flash of something lighter crossing her face. "You mean my glamorous life?" She gestured around the café with mock grandeur. "When I'm not here, I'm usually at this tiny theater downtown. They do experimental stuff—nothing that pays, but the director lets us workshop scenes after hours."
Victor nodded appreciatively. "Smart. Stage work builds fundamentals like nothing else."
Their conversation drifted easily from theater to books, then to music. Victor found himself enjoying her company beyond the agent-client dynamic. There was something refreshing about Scarlett's perspective—her observations sharp and often unexpectedly funny. She possessed that rare quality of seeming completely present, giving her full attention to their conversation rather than scanning the room for more important people.
"You know, you're not what I expected," she admitted, checking her watch and wincing slightly at the time.
"How so?" Victor asked, intrigued.
"Most agents I've met are..." she searched for the right word, "slicker. Like they've rehearsed every conversation in advance."
Victor laughed. "Maybe I haven't been doing this long enough to develop that particular skill."
"Don't," she said simply. "It's refreshing."
Scarlett gathered her bag, glancing toward the counter where her manager was pointedly tapping his watch. "I should get back. My break ended five minutes ago."
Victor nodded, collecting his own things. "I need to head out too. Lots to organize if we're going to pull off these productions."
They both stood, and Victor was struck by how differently he viewed her now compared to just an hour ago. Not just as a client or an investment, but as a person with genuine talent and drive.