*Chapter 15: Another Attempt*

*Script 2: “The Strange Bar”*

*Plot Overview:*

Day and night seem like two completely different worlds.

Los Angeles is steeped in the festive spirit of Thanksgiving.

Even the chaotic streets of Compton seem to have caught a hint of holiday cheer.

However, the festivities don't only affect ordinary humans.

At night, a bustling, brightly lit bar suddenly appears on a nameless street corner in Compton. The sign, shaped like a burning bone, looks almost alive.

A few drunken revelers stumble upon the bar and enter…

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“Finally finished.”

Compared to the hastily crafted Cycle, Allen had clearly put much more thought into creating this new script.

After meticulously incorporating every detail about the bar into the system, Allen let out a long breath and rubbed his slightly sore temples.

He raised his head to double-check the script on the system panel. Satisfied there were no omissions, he decisively pressed the [Script Evolution] button and selected [Generate].

“Ding! Please insert the appropriate…”

Having learned from his experience with Cycle, Allen showed no surprise when the fragmented system panel displayed its prompt.

He had already prepared the required [Materials] in advance and began to input them methodically.

*[Material 1]: Wine Glass – 1000 [Plot Points]* (Found at home)

*[Material 2]: Red Suit – 100 [Plot Points]* (Thrift store purchase)

*[Material 3]: Leftover Fried Chicken Bones – 50 [Plot Points]* (Last night’s dinner)

*[Material 4]: Abandoned Dolls (multiple) – 150 [Plot Points]* (Left by the previous tenant)

If Allen’s earlier creation, Cycle, was a simple one-act play, then this new script, The Strange Bar, was a full-blown ensemble production. Every character, even if not prominent, played a crucial role in the script’s overall structure.

With the increase in materials, the required [Plot Points] also rose significantly.

*[Plot Points]: 1620*

“I hope the [Plot Points] earned this time are worth the expense.”

Shifting his gaze from the [Plot Points] total at the top of the panel, Allen began to understand the struggles of a director.

Working within a limited budget to produce the best possible film—it’s no wonder so many directors desperately seek funding.

He couldn’t help but dream of a day when he no longer had to worry about [Plot Points] consumption to evolve scripts.

Yet Allen knew that such a day might never come.

After all, even in Hollywood, renowned directors like James Cameron still face financial constraints.

Although, to be fair, Cameron seems to have a natural talent for spending money.

When filming Titanic, his relentless budget requests nearly drove Fox to bankruptcy.

Shaking his head, Allen dismissed these scattered thoughts and refocused on the system’s [Script Evolution].

“Now to select the evolution location!”

*“Choose Evolution Location – Compton Alleyway!”*

“Ding! Evolution location confirmed. This script evolution requires 1500 [Plot Points]. Proceed with evolution?”

Following the system’s instructions step by step, Allen completed the necessary operations and confirmed the final prompt without hesitation.

*[Evolution Starting]*

Now, with only 120 backup [Plot Points] remaining on the system panel, Allen had poured all the [Plot Points] earned from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Cycle into evolving this new script.

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Under the influence of an invisible force…

In an unremarkable alleyway in Compton, a brightly lit bar suddenly appeared. Loud chatter spilled out from inside.

A neon sign above the bar’s entrance depicted a burning bone, and a faint, acrid smell of burning lingered in the air.

On the street, a group of drunken men and women staggered along.

“F*** you, Ian! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking!”

Wearing high heels and teetering on the verge of falling, a heavily made-up blonde woman flung off a man’s arm and shouted angrily.

“You’re drunk, Cassie…”

The man, Ian, his face also flushed with alcohol, gave a silly grin as he replied.

“I’m not drunk! Don’t try to lie to me. I know you’ve always wanted to sleep with me, Ian…”

Although her face was beet red, the blonde woman, Cassie, stubbornly insisted.

“You must be out of your mind, Cassie. Haha.”

“Yeah, otherwise, why would you say something so ridiculous? Ian’s gay, just like you. How could he want to sleep with you? Maybe you should let Burt have a go instead.”

“Exactly! Hahaha!”

“Hey, why drag me into this? I’m not gay!”

Cassie’s drunken ramblings drew bursts of laughter from the group.

“You’re disgusting, Cassie,” Ian said with a look of disdain.

Unsurprisingly, Ian’s reaction only made the others laugh even harder.

The group of intoxicated revelers behaved like they owned the desolate street, flaunting their vulnerability to any predators in the area.

Ordinarily, such recklessness would have earned them the ‘hospitality’ of Compton’s prowlers, leaving them penniless—or worse—by morning.

But strangely enough, the usual drifters and opportunists of the area were conspicuously absent.

It was as if, for once, they had all found homes to go to.

At the edge of the eerily quiet street, under the dim glow of an old streetlamp, a towering figure—over six and a half feet tall—dragged a long shadow as it moved stiffly toward Cassie and her group.

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*(Chapter End)*