America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

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"This is Beck, with over ten years of experience hunting large kangaroos, wild buffalo, and Bay Crocodiles,"

at the club, the business manager was introducing the hunting guide to Martin and his group: "This is Molly, Beck's sister, with over five years of hunting experience."

Possibly of English ancestry, Beck was only in his thirties, with more than half of his head balded. He shook hands with Martin's group, politely saying, "It's an honor to serve you."

When Martin shook his hand, he felt nothing but calluses.

Molly, not yet thirty, wore her hair in a buzz cut and had two hunting dogs tattooed on the outside of her muscular arms.

After brief introductions, the business manager called for two pickup trucks to take everyone to the club's private hunting ground.

Departing from the northern suburbs of Brisbane, the drive would take over three hours.

In Australia, where the land is vast with few inhabitants, the business manager provided introductions along the way: the private hunting ground was actually a large ranch, almost one hundred thousand acres in size, not very far from the coast. Like many parts of Australia, it was plagued by an overabundance of wildlife.

Occasionally, Bay Crocodiles would even enter the ranch's ponds and water channels.

Upon reaching the ranch, Martin's group wasn't the only clientele; more than a dozen tourists from other countries were also present amid the expanse of wooden buildings.

After a simple dinner, the business manager took the four to select their hunting weapons.

Martin chose the Winchester M70 that he had used previously on the shooting range.

This was a bolt-action rifle, and their temporary certificates did not allow them to use semi-automatic weapons.

"I want to use a gun too," Mene cried out, because he hadn't arranged his paperwork in advance, so he could only choose a recurve crossbow or a compound crossbow.

Bruce got a Remington 700, and Zomi picked a relatively lightweight Weatherby Shotgun.

The four also equipped themselves with hunting knives.

Back at their wooden cabin, Molly briefed them using video footage, touching on the important points of caution.

"Wild boars, hares, deer, wild dogs, wild buffalo, and red kangaroos are all fair game, except for pregnant females," Molly made a point to bring up several images of protected animals: "Don't go for these; they'll be a real hassle."

She bluntly stated, "If you're unsure, don't touch your guns."

The group prepared items for the next day's use, and the following morning, they set off early in two large pickup trucks fitted with protective bars.

The ranch was dotted with hills, ponds, and small rivers, with vegetation mainly comprising grasslands, shrubs, and low forests.

After consulting with Martin and Zomi, Bruce told Beck, "We want to go after the big game."

Mene sat alone in Molly's truck.

In one of the pickup trucks, Martin asked Beck, who was driving, "When are we going after Bay Crocodiles?"

Beck said, "In the afternoon, when the sunlight is good, the Bay Crocodiles will come out to bask."

Molly's leading truck stopped at the edge of a large swath of bushes, opened the rear door, and jumped out leading the hunting dogs.

Mene, clutching his crossbow, scampered over and said beside the truck, "I'd rather ride in the back here than over there; those dogs are terrifying."

Martin looked at his sweaty face: "They seem to really like you."

Beck squatted at the edge of the bush inspecting animal droppings, picked up a piece and squeezed it, remarking, "There's a wild boar nearby, Molly, drive them out!"

He then said to Martin and the others, "Climb on the back of the truck and get your guns ready. Don't come down rashly; wild boars are dangerous."

Molly released the hunting dogs, and the three dogs dashed into the brush.

Martin climbed onto the back of the pickup, leaned against the welded safety rail, and checked his firearms, loading his rifle.

Bruce, an experienced marksman, calmly shouldered his weapon.

Zomi asked, "Does wild boar taste good?"

Martin, who had bought farm-raised in his previous life, replied, "They say it has a strong gamey taste." He called out to Mene, "Come up here, do you want a wild boar to explode your butt?"

Mene was just about to climb aboard when suddenly, he turned back, spotting a large red kangaroo bounding from several dozen meters away.

Seeing one's nemesis, the animosity was exceptionally strong,

"A red one! Come here, your black grandpa is waiting for you!" Mene cocked and loaded the crossbow, aiming to shoot.

The sound of barking erupted as a black tank-like object broke through the bushes, crushing its way forward.

Mene hastily shot an arrow and clumsily scrambled onto the truck.

Martin reached out to pull him up: "What are you afraid of?"

Mene glanced at the large wild boar: "It's blacker than me; I can't use my secret move!"

Martin said, "No worries, after it explodes you, you can charge it a fee."

"Zomi!" Bruce, knowing that Martin was there to relax and socialize, naturally gave the directing opportunity to the filmmaker: "Your chance is here!"

The hunting dogs, trained well, slowed down once they drove out the wild boar.

This wild boar, about one meter seventy-eight in length, ran like a small tank.

Zomi mounted his rifle and took aim through the scope, firing the first shot with a bang.

He had prior hunting experience, and his marksmanship was decent. Aiming for the neck, he hit the wild boar in the belly.

"Got it!" Martin saw the gushing blood.

Zomi quickly worked the bolt and fired a second shot, the bullet burrowing into the boar's neck.

The wild boar tumbled to the ground, trying to get up, but Zomi's third shot hit its head!

Martin praised, "Good shooting, hit with every shot."

Zomi, elated, said, "Lucky me, I've never been this accurate before."

The gunshots startled nearby animals, a herd of deer galloped in the distance, Beck ran up, and as he boarded the truck, yelled, "Hold tight; we're chasing after them."

The four held onto the safety rails as the pickup roared forward.

Martin looked ahead to the side, spotting a group of deer and shouted, "Guys, how about a competition?"

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"Okay!" Mene was an eager beaver.

Martin pointed towards the deer, "Whoever fails to land a catch, faces a punishment."

Zomi asked, "What punishment?"

Bruce came up with a good idea, "How about finding a smaller kangaroo and playing a boxing match with it?"

Mene was the first to agree, "Great!"

Martin patted him and said, "You still have time to back out now."

Mene was almost beating his chest when he replied, "I'll never go back on my word."

Beck, who was experienced, drove ahead of the deer, stopped the car, and gestured for the four to get out. After briefly observing, he led them into an ambush downwind from where the herd would come.

The five of them spread out in the short woodland stretching over a dozen meters.

Mene suddenly realized something was amiss; he looked at Martin, who was closest to him, cradling a shotgun equipped with a scope.

Then he looked at his own hands, holding a crossbow with a scope.

How could this be a fair match?

The deer herd gradually approached; Martin aimed at a robust stag about fifty meters away and pulled the trigger.

With a bang, the deer was hit in the chest and abdomen, stumbled a few steps forward, and then fell to the ground.

Just as Martin fired, Zomi and Bruce also shot their guns, and two more adult deer fell.

Meanwhile, a carbon bolt whistled as it lodged into a low-hanging tree.

The remaining deer fled in panic, leaving Mene no chance for a second shot.

Martin and the others just kept shooting without a care for anything else.

It was left to Beck and Molly, the two professional hunters, to take care of the game.

Martin asked, "Who just missed their shot at the game?"

Mene had already boasted too confidently, so he bit the bullet and said, "Let's go find that kangaroo."

By the time Beck and Molly finished dealing with the game and were on their way back for lunch, they encountered a suitable kangaroo.

Standing up, it was barely 1.4 meters tall and not that muscular.

Anything bigger and stronger was out of the question; Mene wouldn't stand a chance, and getting kicked to death was a real possibility...

Mene got out of the car and walked towards the kangaroo, ridiculing as he went, "Red-skin with a big tail, your brother screwed me over without paying; now I'm here to collect the debt. Come on! Why don't you have black fur? All kangaroos are freaking racists!"

Such extreme ridicule was too much for the kangaroos.

Bruce couldn't help but say, "Why the hell do you, this piece of dog crap, know only idiots?"

Martin said nothing, just staring at Bruce.

Bruce slapped his forehead, "I'm such an idiot."

The kangaroo, being in heat and thus short-tempered, engaged Mene in a fight on the spot.

Anxious about the potential for accidents, Beck and Molly followed behind to give backup.

"Nobody gets away with screwing over Mr. Mene without paying, not even an animal!" Thanks to his size and strength, Mene battered the rather lean kangaroo into embarrassed retreat.

Ten minutes later, a refreshed Mene got back into the car, clutching a handful of kangaroo fur: "This is the debt its brother owed!"

After returning to the ranch estate and having lunch, the group set out in the afternoon to hunt the Bay Crocodile.

Facing the saltwater crocodiles, even Bruce didn't dare to act rashly; the four of them stayed safely in the car.

Beck and Molly soon found a trace of the Bay Crocodile.

The six of them walked to a pond nearby, where they climbed a high ground to get a clear overview from above. A few dozen meters away, a crocodile over four meters in length was basking by the pond.

In the face of humans armed with shotguns, size was irrelevant no matter how large it may be.

Beck, looking after the customers, said, "Aim at your target. When I say 'fire,' we all shoot together, three shots each."

Martin, Bruce, and Zomi loaded their bullets, while Mene picked up the crossbow.

"Ready!" Beck checked they were set, then shouted, "Fire!"

Martin pressed the trigger and through the scope he saw the Bay Crocodile's neck tissue explode. He cycled his gun and fired again, pausing after three shots flew out.

The poor crocodile was hit by multiple bullets, dead before it even saw its attackers.

The game was dragged back, and the crocodile's teeth were removed. With legal documentation provided by the hunting club, they could be crafted into pendants and keychains as souvenirs.

A crocodile over four meters long, with a mouth full of sharp teeth, provided enough for all four men to share.

Most of it ended up with Martin and Zomi.

Bruce and Mene were loners.

That evening, the club hosted a game barbecue party for all the guests on the estate.

Martin ate some barbecued deer meat and found Zomi sitting alone in a quiet spot, asking, "Too noisy for you?"

Zomi pointed to his head, "The moment I rest, my brain doesn't stop."

Martin ventured, "Thinking about post-production?"

"I'm just a cog in the machine when it comes to post-production." Zomi saw things clearly and added, "I'm thinking of a new story."

Martin half-joked, "A ferocious beast or a freak suddenly appears in the hunting field and wipes us all out?"

Zomi tossed a beer to Martin, they clinked bottles, took sips, and then he said, "Before joining this crew, I and my friend David-Johnson, who also studied film, worked as assistants for Director Delabonte. He was more into screenwriting, though not as lucky as me; breaking into screenwriting is tough."

He returned to the main point, "David and I went on a trip to Canada, where we heard from locals about a true event. A woman with dwarfism, posing as a little girl, managed to kill her adoptive parents."