Chapter 3: Jumping from a Building

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On the second floor, in the producer's office, three bodyguards patrolled the hallway while two guarded the entrance. Bro Derek, the producer of the film crew, closed the office door and asked the brown-haired middle-aged man who had just entered, "Chairman of the Ackerman Charity Foundation visiting personally… does that mean it’s matched?"

"It was just confirmed this morning, so I came by," said Chairman Barack Bernan, a man with a distinctive Jewish nose. "Hh blood type is already extremely rare, and finding a compatible organ is even harder. Mr. Buddy Ackerman experienced sudden organ failure, prompting the family to initiate screenings in every sector under their influence to find a match. Your film crew found it first."

There were some details Barack didn’t share with Bro. Buddy Ackerman had originally prepared two fully matched donors from his ‘blood bank’, but when it came time to use their organs, both donors had contracted AIDS. The Ackerman family wasn’t at peace.

Having known each other for years, Bro laughed heartily, "I’ve always had good luck."

"Mr. Ackerman will personally meet you once he recovers," Barack added. "Congratulations on moving up in your career."

Bro replied, "I just hope the company invests more in Sarah, so she can quickly make it to Hollywood's A-list."

Barack, uninterested in actresses and their husbands, changed the topic, "Did you run a background check?"

Bro’s expression turned serious. "The target is 22 years old, a local from Provo, from a low-income family, dropped out of high school, parents divorced. The mother moved to Europe ten years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. The father, a former forest ranger, died a year and a half ago. The target lives alone, once relied on church aid."

Barack summed it up, "No family, no wealth, no connections. The perfect donor material." He then asked, "Do you have a plan? Mr. Ackerman aims to enter politics after his recovery—no loose ends."

Bro nodded, having already considered this. "We have one rooftop stunt scene left. Originally planned as a wire stunt, I’ll have the director modify it to a jump scene. The target will be injured and sent to L.A. for treatment, showing our generosity."

After thinking for a moment, he added, "The target isn’t a union member, so the stunt performers' guild won’t intervene. Plus, he signed an organ donation agreement with the foundation during our charity push. We’ll follow the normal process."

Barack asked, "A jump? Can you ensure it?"

"Stunt coordinator Freddie was personally promoted by Mr. Ackerman. This isn’t his first time managing such things, and we have leverage over him." Bro picked up the phone and dialed a number, "Come over."

Less than half a minute later, a knock came from the door. Freddie, also Jewish, entered the office.

Bro didn’t waste time, outlining the changes to the scene and the ultimate goal, "I need the target injured and alive when transferred to L.A."

Freddie, who had risen through the Ackerman family's influence and was familiar with L.A., suspected what was happening but didn’t show it. He simply responded, "We’ll adjust the three wire cranes slightly, set up an air cushion behind the building, and relocate the control console to the ground floor. I’ll personally handle it. No problem."

Barack added, "A private jet at Hunter’s Private Airport in West L.A. is on standby to take him straight to L.A. once he's picked up."

For safety, he pointed outside, "The five men I brought will stay here—three will watch the set to prevent the target from fleeing if he suspects anything, and two will go to his place to destroy anything that needs to be erased."

Eager to climb higher, Freddie volunteered, "I’ll be the point of contact?"

Bro patted his shoulder, "I have faith in you."

Barack glanced at his watch, saying, "I’ll leave this to you. I need to fly back to L.A. to attend a charity gala tonight with Ms. Ackerman. Many sick kids are waiting for my help."

Bro knew him well, "Mainly their mothers need your comfort."

The two laughed together.

…

Behind the building, Hawk suddenly noticed the stunt crew workers busy again. Three cranes on the roof were being adjusted, and an air cushion was being set up on the ground.

Hawk asked David beside him, "What scene are we shooting this afternoon?"

David replied, "A rooftop wire stunt."

"You sure?" Hawk frowned slightly. He felt uneasy from behind and turned his head quickly.

Robert Downey Jr., in high spirits and looking hostile, was walking towards Hawk with swagger.

David nudged Hawk, "The drama queen's coming."

Hawk turned back as Freddie and the assistant director, along with stuntman McKin, walked around the air cushion and quickly approached them.

The assistant director said, "The afternoon scene has been modified—one character will fall."

"That guy's character is falling!" Robert Downey Jr., high on drugs and lacking reason, pointed at Hawk, "I’m saying, let this guy’s character fall!"

Freddie smiled at Hawk, "The director made a last-minute change. Your character’s scene ends with a fall."

Before Hawk could respond, Freddie quickly added, "Hollywood falling scenes pay differently from regular stunts. This scene pays $5,000. Don’t worry about safety—we have the top stunt team in Hollywood, and we’ve done this kind of setup dozens of times."

Hearing the fee, McKin, who had followed them, wasn’t happy. "I can jump too! Put a black hood on me, and no one will tell the difference."

Freddie glared at him, "It’s not your role."

Hawk sensed something was off and suddenly noticed the three suited men from the second floor now standing in a triangular formation, positioning Hawk in the center.

The assistant director impatiently gestured with a limp wrist, "Don’t forget you signed a contract to follow the crew’s directions."

A sudden sense of danger made Hawk decide not to refuse outright, "I’m fine with it."

Freddie waved his hand, "Get up there."

Hawk’s expression and actions remained calm as he followed David towards the rear door.

McKin, feeling eager, quickly followed.

Freddie grabbed the assistant director, unable to say much, but emphasized, "The producer is watching this scene. Whatever it takes, make sure it goes smoothly."

Hearing the producer’s involvement, the assistant director dropped his flamboyant act and said seriously, "Leave it to me."

Freddie went to the large control console for the wire setup, meticulously checking the motors, cables, and other equipment, as he usually did.

The three suited men, as per the plan, stayed downstairs. The black man moved near the air cushion, and the two white men guarded the building’s front and back doors.

Inside, the elevator quickly ascended to the top floor. As the doors opened, McKin and the assistant director walked ahead.

Hawk deliberately slowed down, staying back with David. Once they were on the rooftop, he quickly assessed the surroundings. Several stunt technicians and a small camera crew were already in position.

Cold wind blew, and Hawk whispered, "Did we also sign body or organ donation agreements?"

"Are you still hungover? Got booze for brains? How could you forget?" David replied bluntly, "We signed it along with the rest of the crew. They’re using it for publicity—didn’t you see the newspapers?"

Hawk’s heart sank, recalling the medical report and his extremely rare dinosaur blood type. Words like "donor," "material," and "organ harvesting" flooded his mind.

He had only regained his freedom less than 10 hours ago, still unclear about his own situation and foggy on his past memories, and now he was caught in this mess.

The assistant director turned back, gesturing at Hawk, "Hurry up."

"I… I need… to use the bathroom," Hawk said, adding nervousness to his voice, "Wait… I need to go to the bathroom."

"Just hurry up!" the assistant director urged.

McKin pointed at Hawk’s legs, "Look, his legs are shaking! This coward’s scared. He doesn’t dare jump."

The technicians, who were testing equipment and assisting with safety gear, all shook their heads.

Hawk looked terrified, "I can’t, I can’t! I really can’t!"

David stepped forward, ready to offer to jump instead.

Hawk grabbed his arm, "Take me to the bathroom, quick—I need to go bad."

"Man, hold it in. Don’t crap your pants." David helped Hawk back towards the stairs.

McKin sneered, "Switch him out. Put a hood on—it’s the same. He’s chickened out; you can’t count on him. I heard he got kicked off the extreme sports team because he was scared of heights. You really expect him to do this?"

Upstairs, the radio crackled, the wind howled, and a figure fell, accompanied by McKin’s scream as he hit the air cushion with a loud thud.

Hawk clung to the window ledge, eyes locked below.

Someone yelled, "Get a doctor! Call a doctor! Looks like both his legs are broken!"

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