The Wolf of Los Angeles-Chapter 459: Taking the Road Less Traveled

[Chapter 459: Taking the Road Less Traveled]

San Francisco, Mission Street.

Freelance reporter Trale carried his bag as he entered a coffee shop and waved to the owner. "The usual, please."

The owner quickly prepared his coffee.

Trale found a corner seat, pulled out a thick briefcase, and set it on the table.

Just as his coffee arrived, someone entered and spotted Trale. It was Dudek, the editor-in-chief for the social and current affairs section of the San Francisco Chronicle. He walked straight over and sat across from Trale, eyeing the briefcase.

"What's so important you didn't just send it to the office and had to call me out like this?" Dudek asked.

Trale joked, "I'm afraid if I bring this news into the office and don't sell it to you, I won't make it out alive."

"Is it that explosive?" Dudek pressed.

Trale didn't hold back and pushed the briefcase forward. "California Governor Schwarzenegger has been having an affair with his nanny."

For many, this wasn't exactly top-secret. Dudek said, "Hollywood male stars are always fooling around with their nannies. I'd heard rumors about Schwarzenegger before, but no solid evidence. The San Francisco Chronicle is a responsible publication. We can't report unverified rumors."

Trale gave a sly smile. "Schwarzenegger didn't just cheat on the nanny -- he fathered an illegitimate child with her."

That caught Dudek's attention immediately, his eyes locked onto Trale as he asked, "Do you have confirmed information? That's not something to throw around lightly!"

Any man with some money or power is likely to cheat. But having an illegitimate child is a whole different level. Most spouses might tolerate affairs, but an illegitimate child usually shatters relationships.

Trale tapped the briefcase. "I have proof too. Without evidence, I wouldn't come to you."

"Where did you get this?" Dudek reached for the briefcase.

But Trale didn't let go. "Let's discuss the price first! I bought this from a paparazzo for a lot of money. If your offer isn't enough, maybe it's better not to look. It could cause trouble."

Dudek put his hand firmly on the briefcase and said, "Name your price."

Trale held out his hand, signaling a figure.

Dudek considered briefly and agreed, "Alright."

Trale let go.

Dudek opened the briefcase and examined the documents and photos carefully. There were pictures of the nanny and her child. The boy looked about ten and clearly resembled Schwarzenegger in facial structure while inheriting the nanny's features.

There was a photo showing all three together, which spoke volumes. The documents also included financial transactions between Schwarzenegger and the nanny.

This was enough to confirm the unusual relationship.

Dudek quickly scanned everything and recognized its news value. As a seasoned editor, he could also understand the larger implications.

Trale, who regularly cooperated with the San Francisco Chronicle and mainly dealt with Dudek, could see what Dudek was thinking and said, "If you don't want to report this, I'll have to take it elsewhere. News like this sells well."

Dudek closed the briefcase. "We'll take it."

They left the cafe and went to a nearby law firm to draw up a contract and finalize the deal.

...

Dudek returned to the Chronicle and gathered trusted staff for a newsroom briefing. Since the subject was California's current governor, Dudek first reported to the editor-in-chief.

With such a scoop in hand, the paper was definitely going to publish it.

The editor-in-chief instructed Dudek, "When printing the midnight edition, make sure to call the governor's office as part of the usual protocol."

Dudek promised, "I'll call right before the paper hits the stands."

The editor then added, "Send extra reporters to Los Angeles and Sacramento for live coverage. Since you paid a high price for the rights, a series of reports is warranted."

"I'll arrange it immediately," Dudek replied, leaving to dispatch teams.

News about Schwarzenegger was more sensational than an average governor's story; after all, before politics, he was a film star renowned worldwide.

---

Los Angeles, Coastal Building.

In the large office of the Manhattan AI Project, Hawke sat in front of a large screen watching Harland fine-tune the supercomputer.

Edward quietly entered and sat beside Hawke, whispering, "The Mattachine Society has secured funding and staff; they are holding a large LGBT rally this afternoon near city hall and the council chambers."

Hawke lowered his voice, "What's the FMF reaction?"

Edward replied, "They're gathering too. A direct clash is likely."

Hawke said, "Heat has to build gradually. Stay calm."

Edward pulled out a chair and sat next to Hawke.

...

Harland finished setting up the supercomputer and said, "We're ready."

"You get some rest," Hawke said to Harland and looked at Caroline. "Input the search criteria and start."

Caroline's fingers flew over the keyboard making sharp clicking noises.

Hawke watched the large LCD screen on the wall. The supercomputer allocated resources to search Twitter, filtering from Caroline's initial list for more suitable candidates.

Soon two photos of black men with names appeared.

The first was Dugari, sporting a multicolored green, pink, and purple wig and wearing prosthetic breasts resembling coconuts. Under his short red crop top, his protruding belly was visible, and his miniskirt barely covered a nearly three-foot-wide rear.

The second, Philip, had a normal build and face -- at least above the neck. Below the neck things were different: enlarged breasts obviously not muscles or implants, possibly hormone therapy or surgery. He wore tight pants and knee-high boots, with a narrow waist, big chest, and shapely hips.

Above the neck, a man; below, a woman.

Hawke asked, "Did the second person have surgery?"

Caroline checked his Twitter and photos and judged, "Looks like hormone therapy rather than surgery."

Hawke didn't ask further, knowing women often understand such matters.

Edward added, "Not fake breasts."

Hawke skimmed their Twitter accounts and other online information. Dugari was a crossdresser, while Philip was transgender, or officially, a third gender. Hawke's usual term was "ladyboy," a term popular in Thailand.

Those aiming to be the center of attention knew the importance of first impressions. Appearance was crucial.

Dugari's exotic look was tolerable, but his large belly, wide hips, and sagging flesh discouraged a second glance.

Philip, despite the anomaly, was attractive among outlandish figures in the black community.

That alone placed Philip ahead of Dugari.

Moreover, Philip posted family photos and comments on his Twitter account, including many about his sister who was hospitalized with a severe illness.

Hawke asked Caroline to look into Philip's sister's condition.

After quick research, Caroline produced private Twitter chats where Philip discussed his sister's congenital mitral valve insufficiency.

Hawke, unfamiliar with medical terms, asked, "Anyone heard of this?"

Harland explained, "With current medical technology, surgery for such congenital heart defects has a high success rate but is expensive. Without insurance, it's hard to afford."

He added, "A friend's sister had a similar disease and recovered after surgery."

Hawke nodded slightly and told Edward, "Give these profiles to Campos. Philip is our first choice, focus on his sister's situation."

Edward took notes.

...

Caroline searched again using previous models and found three white SFPD officers known for white supremacist views, frequently accused of discriminating and abusing black people.

Hawke glanced over the data and focused on an officer named Williams. On Twitter, Williams followed and liked several white supremacist news and posts and incited online warfare targeting LGBTQ+ groups, posting many hateful comments.

He also had a secondary Twitter account where he shared even more racist and targeted attacks against Asians, Africans, and Latinos.

Hawke instructed Caroline to save all his tweets and back up the secondary account's content to prevent sudden deletion.

No privacy or security in today's Internet age under capital's power -- all was transparent.

Twitter's rapid growth brought Hawke more than money: political and hidden resources that had extraordinary power in this new era.

Hawke told Edward, "Give the white officers' files to Campos too, especially Williams. Act according to plan."

Edward busied himself.

With technical matters ongoing, Harland left first.

...

Hawke asked Caroline to search again for the West Coast-accented person who mailed the package.

No results this time. The person wasn't on Twitter and rarely used the Internet.

Not expecting much, Hawke soon left the Manhattan AI Project.

---

San Francisco, Civic Center.

Several buses rolled in and stopped in front of City Hall.

Under Rosa and Solana's direction, groups descended from the buses.

They unfurled telescoping flagpoles and waved rainbow flags energetically.

In the center of the nearby lawn stood a tall sculpture. A young man in a rainbow shirt climbed to its top and shouted, "Hand me the flags!"

Below, a tall Black person with a normal haircut but dressed in gender-neutral clothing and sporting large breasts took a flag from a woman and reached the base of the sculpture, passing it up.

The young man held the rainbow flag high as if claiming San Francisco itself.

Rosa and Solana brought out freshly made banners from the buses.

Betty and Juan had come from Los Angeles and, on Hawke's orders, prepared these banners.

A group of flamboyantly dressed Black men, looking unusual even within the LGBT crowd, took positions in the most visible spot, revealing a new slogan for their community:

"Love Is Love!"

Media quickly caught the scene and swarmed to take photos.

Rosa accepted an interview and spoke about the new slogan: "Love is love -- the purest, noblest feeling, free from any external conditions such as gender, race, age, or social status!"

She raised her voice: "Every form of love is valid and should be celebrated!"

Cheers erupted, especially from the flamboyant crowd.

...

Just as they drew attention, their feminist rivals arrived, unwilling to be outdone.

SFPD riot vehicles arrived with police in riot gear separating the groups.

This time, no physical clashes occurred. The two sides hurled verbal attacks from a distance.

...

The FMF, led by Fiona, had prepared insults and posters targeting transgender and effeminate men in the Mattachine Society.

Shouts included: "There are only men and women in this world; you are monsters!"

"God is ashamed of you!"

"Perverts! Monsters! Neither men nor women!"

These verbal assaults stabbed deeply into some participants' hearts.

Mockery escalated to throwing trash.

...

Meanwhile, from her hotel room, Jennifer Siebel donned pajamas, pulled back the curtains, and leaned over the balcony railing looking toward the square.

Gavin Newsom approached from behind, asking, "Trouble on both sides again?"

Siebel replied, "The Mattachine Society has been defying us since Los Angeles."

Gavin said, "They have powerful backers too..."

"Opposed to you?" Siebel worried. "Why not restrict them?"

Gavin shook his head. "Politics is complicated. Even among my supporters, there are factions. Some need votes from areas where those groups live."

Siebel, not from a political family, said, "Sounds too complicated."

"Forget them. Let's keep going and celebrate."

Gavin was in a great mood, having met a perfect woman and seeing successes from his efforts in Los Angeles.

The Schwarzenegger couple faced nearly unanimous media attacks, shattering the Hollywood star's reputation and the hopeful illusions he brought to Californians.

Although attacks against Brian Ferguson were less effective, the clash fractured the two major factions of the California GOP with no chance of cooperation.

This alone met their objectives.

Gavin and Jerry Brown had analyzed that if the Ferguson family cooperated with Schwarzenegger or vice versa, their side's chances were slim. Now that was uncertain.

---

The chaos outside City Hall lasted almost the whole afternoon.

When the crowd dispersed, Philip, the tall Black man with large breasts, boarded a bus alone in a near-silent, almost autistic manner.

The convoy left Civic Center, arriving on 19th Street. An older Black man stood at the bus front handing small envelopes of cash to Black attendees as they got off.

Most people joined the event for the money rather than genuine personal rights.

Philip pocketed the cash and walked on.

Passing a pharmacy, he bought his sister's necessary medications and estrogen.

The rest of the money he carefully deposited into his bank account.

Looking at the four-digit balance, Philip felt terrible -- how long before he could afford the surgery?

His phone rang as he left the ATM.

It was his bar manager calling: "Come early tonight. A patron wants you to perform."

The manager really cared: "The guy has money and is willing to pay four figures. Get ready."

Philip hurried, "Okay, I'm on it."

With no skills, education, connections, or assets, Philip had few ways to make money fast.

With a sick sister to care for, he wanted to avoid a dangerous life in gangs or dealing drugs, so he used his appearance to earn.

With many others like him, lacking core advantages, Philip chose an unconventional path.

As he approached his apartment, someone stopped him.

*****

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