For the next three days, Leon was busy attending various interview programs.
Under Bonnie's operation, his social media accounts didn't stop for a second. More than 50 tweets were posted every day, spewing trash talk at high intensity 24 hours a day.
Eventually, when no one in the entire company could come up with any fresh curse words, Leon simply started exposing dark secrets about Diddy's parties.
"Your column interview in XXL magazine achieved great results. We've grabbed enough eyeballs recently," Bonnie said, holding the latest issue of XXL.
This hip-hop magazine had come from behind, surpassing the veteran hip-hop magazine Vibe amidst the general slump of traditional print media.
Street shootouts, beef conflicts, sex scandals...
This magazine became the best-selling hip-hop magazine by relying on edgy content to grab attention.
"Good." Leon quickly scanned the column interview in the magazine.
He went full firepower in the column, entering "mad dog" mode.
He ran his mouth without restraint, spinning many unknown details about Diddy's parties.
Whether he had seen them, heard them, or just imagined them out of thin air.
In a rap diss war, no one cares about the authenticity of the offensive language; they only pursue the lethality that makes the opponent instantly lose their cool.
So Leon dropped bombshells directly: Almost all male singers supported by Diddy maintained intimate physical relationships with him.
Justin Bieber became famous not because he was a musical genius, but because he had a tender butt as white as a woman's.
Pitbull often staged happy threesomes with Jennifer Lopez and Diddy.
Chris Brown was Diddy's pet...
Except for his own boss Jay-Z and his "sister-in-law" Beyoncé, he insulted almost every singer in the circle related to Diddy.
For a time, everyone in the music industry was in danger, especially those singers who frequently attended crazy parties.
No one wanted to be bitten by this mad dog who wanted traffic (clout) more than his life. He almost became the public enemy of the entire entertainment circle.
Now, even if Leon went to the bathroom, he had to let Jorge follow him every step of the way to guard against shots fired from the dark at any time.
But even so, in this beef, the West Coast camp where Leon stood was still at a disadvantage.
Because not a single rapper on the entire West Coast had released a weighty diss track yet.
Eminem issued a statement that he would release a new song in the near future, but it was all thunder and no rain so far.
The only one who made a practical response was Cardi B. She had finished recording the song and was now shooting the MV with her Bloods brothers in her hometown in the Bronx.
The benefits brought by the "black traffic" (controversy) were quickly converted into real monetary figures.
The sales of all Apocalypse Music records climbed straight up like they were sitting on a rocket.
Currently, Robbie's Faded had occupied the Billboard Top 10 for over 15 weeks, and Ariana occupied the fourth place on the chart.
The top three were all swept by Adele.
Watching the numbers rising in the company account, Leon knew it was all worth it.
---
Free the Nipple Rally
At 2:00 PM, Leon took a business van to Kissena Park in Queens.
The purpose of this trip was to attend a rally of 10,000 people organized by the "Free the Nipple" organization.
On the way there, he vaguely felt that this rally wasn't that simple.
The crowd participating in the rally lined up like an army of the walking dead, holding flags printed with breast patterns high, marching towards the battlefield of Kissena Park.
A large number of them unsealed their upper bodies on the road, letting their chests fully feel the air of freedom.
Eye-catching slogans were written on them with black markers: "Free the Nipple," "Make Love Not War"!
"Wow~ These bxxches are really generous. In Mexico, no woman would let you see these for free; you have to pay if you want to look!"
"America is indeed a great country~" As the driver for this trip, Jorge "Sledgehammer" exclaimed repeatedly while watching.
Sometimes he would point and comment on the shape and size, and coupled with his aggressive driving style, traffic accidents almost occurred several times on the road.
Leon had absolutely no mind to appreciate the scenery outside the window. These women were either too old or too ugly.
Those who looked decent seemed to have abnormal heads.
His mind was now full of how to approach the big shot, Senator Charlie Evans, at the rally later.
"Look, look quickly, man!" Jorge pointed his finger forward frantically as if he had discovered something incredible.
"What?" Leon leaned over curiously, and the disgusting scene almost made him vomit his overnight meal.
It was a woman whose body was overflowing with fat—or rather, a man dressed as a woman.
He had tattooed the portrait from the companion poster of Leon's Take Me to Church record on his butt.
Because of its strong anti-Christian implications and the strong sense of atonement radiating from the whole song, this track was regarded by a considerable number of people as a classic "gay anthem."
And because Leon was worried about affecting record sales, he had never made any explanation for this in public.
"Looks like you are worshipped by these fools as some kind of totem~" Jorge grinned and laughed non-stop.
"WTF, drive further away, quick. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop myself from kicking this bxxch's ass."
It took nearly an hour to travel just three blocks. At the last block, only about 200 yards away from the rally site...
Even though Jorge cursed at the top of his lungs and honked the horn frantically, the vehicle couldn't move another inch forward.
To not delay the performance at the rally, they could only choose to proceed on foot.
Crossing the streets filled with "landmines," they finally arrived at Kissena Park.
Leon immediately contacted Cindy and entered the backstage of the rally speech under the guidance of the staff.
"OMG! Leon!" A bloated middle-aged woman, shaking the fat on her belly, waved to Leon from a distance.
Her gaze was like a greedy she-wolf.
The key point was that this woman wore almost nothing, with only sporadic body paint covering important parts.
Even so, there was no desire to take a look.
The middle-aged woman trotted to Leon, her voice trembling. "I'm Cindy! Oh God, I didn't expect that one day I could have such close contact with you!"
Leon endured the nausea and accepted the hug, rolling his eyes and perfunctorily saying, "Miss Cindy, you look just as charming as in the photos..."
Jorge stood aside with his arms crossed, laughing heartily without caring about the gazes of the women around him.
This laughter sounded increasingly harsh to Leon, who looked like he had lost the will to live. "Shxt, why do I have to stay with such a group of idiots?"
Even though he thought so in his heart, on the surface, he was extremely complimentary.
Although the crowd at the rally was mostly amateurs—mainly housewives, divorced women, or naive college students—their social status wasn't high.
But in today's world where "political correctness" comes first, this group had become hot commodities that those in power and social celebrities vied to win over.
Leon wasn't a conservative in the traditional sense, but he always scoffed at the increasingly radical political propositions of the Democrats.
American politicians in the early years were still decent people; at least they would do some superficial work for basic decency.
But now, for those damn votes, they didn't even care about shame.
Increasingly dirty, obscene, and nonsensical "woke" activities were spreading like a plague under the promotion of political elites like Charlie.
But Leon wished such movements would spread to every corner of the US. Without these fools, whose money would he earn?
Cindy held a half-inch thick speech manuscript in her hand, speaking impassionedly on stage. Every sentence she said triggered enthusiastic cheers from the audience.
Women shook their bodies frantically. Radicals wrote words like "I am a Slut" or "Sex Freedom" on their bodies with paint, falling into a state of utter fanaticism.
Even with such momentum, some conservatives rushed into the rally site.
They wore cowboy hats, jackets printed with the Stars and Stripes pattern, their skin showing the characteristic red of white manual laborers due to long-term exposure to the sun (Rednecks).
But the protest of these few people was soon drowned out by the women constantly throwing bras.
"What a bunch of crazy women." Leon leaned against the backstage wall, smoking a cigarette while waiting for the instruction to go on stage.
Cindy's repetitive speech seemed endless. Only after nearly an hour of waiting did it finally show signs of ending.
She shouted into the microphone at the top of her lungs: "Today we have a special guest! He is a popular pop star, the Slumdog Millionaire!"
Yeah!!
The crowd instantly boiled over; they knew who was coming out next.
"His nickname is the Street Jesus of Brownsville, and more importantly, he is a rebel, a true fighter!"
"Please welcome the great fighter, Leon Smith!"
Hearing the instruction, Leon quickly jumped onto the stage. Although he was mentally prepared, as soon as he showed his face, he was attacked by dozens of bras.
He pushed away the bra hanging on his head and squeezed out an extremely fake smile. "You guys are the best!"
Midway through the song, an audience member in a state of extreme excitement actually tore off the last seal on her body and threw a "biochemical weapon" (tampon/pad) onto the stage.
Fortunately, according to the agreement, he only had to sing one song, Take Me to Church.
After the performance, he left the venue in a hurry, almost fleeing.
"Holy Shxt! This place is like a giant mental asylum!" In the waiting area, Leon couldn't help but complain endlessly.
At this moment, a hand landed on his shoulder. Although the fingers were a bit dry, they were as slender as a woman's.
You could tell at a glance that these hands had never done manual labor.
Senator Charlie Evans!
"Great singing, Mr. Leon. Look at the reaction of the audience~" Charlie wore a standard politician's smile. "You remind me of a young Michael Jackson."
Leon looked carefully at this evergreen tree of New York politics.
He wasn't tall, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a decent suit, his hair groomed meticulously.
The smile seemed to be frozen on his face, as if trained repeatedly.
Leon immediately extended his right hand to greet the other party warmly. "Mr. Charlie, it's my honor to participate in such a great movement."
"Very good, what a remarkable young man. I know you wrote many songs, but unfortunately, we could only hear one live today..." Charlie pushed his gold-rimmed glasses and continued, "I think the audience is still wanting more..."
As soon as the words fell, Leon understood almost instantly.
Politicians rely on stars to expand their influence, and stars rely on politicians to gain higher social status.
The two use each other.
The implication in Charlie's words was just wanting him to participate in more such rallies, acting as a free propaganda tool.
He replied without hesitation, "As long as you have any need, I can appear at rallies all over the US at any time! I love these guys, what a lovely group of people!"
"Excellent!" Charlie patted Leon's shoulder and said half-jokingly, "This is not for me, but for the freedom of all American citizens!"
"Right, right, right..." Leon agreed perfunctorily while cursing Charlie's shamelessness in his heart.
The rally lasted for more than two hours. In the final stage, the honorable Senator finally made his shining appearance.
He read empty words about "greatness, glory, correctness" from the script for five minutes and then left in a hurry.
As a Senator, his schedule was busier than an average singer. Leon originally thought Charlie would leave immediately after the speech.
But he didn't expect the other party to return backstage specifically for him.
"Leon, I have something I want to talk to you about, a very private matter."
A dignified Senator wanting to talk about private matters with him on their first meeting?
Leon couldn't figure it out at all. What kind of damn charm do I have?
"Please speak, sir."
The corners of Charlie's mouth rose. After hesitating for two seconds, he said, "Young people nowadays take you pop stars as role models, instead of regarding soldiers as heroes like my generation did."
"Of course, you singers are also heroes, just that your battlefield isn't in the humid jungles of Vietnam."
After spinning a long passage of pretty words, Charlie finally revealed his claws. "My youngest son, Henry, a sunny and handsome lad."
"He loves music very much. When he was little, he often dressed up as Elvis and held concerts in the yard."
"He just graduated from the Juilliard School this year."
Leon quickly guessed the other party's intention.
Elite politicians like Charlie generally wouldn't allow their children to set foot in the entertainment industry.
Although this industry makes a lot of money, in their eyes, it's not respectable enough.
But Charlie had many offspring; most were engaged in law-related work and then transitioned to politicians.
As for a willful youngest son wanting to choose whatever path, it wasn't worth correcting so much.
"I warned him not to be late... Henry should be arriving soon." Charlie looked down at his watch.
To cling to Charlie's connection, Leon could only choose to wait for this rich young master's arrival.
About ten minutes later, when the rally crowd gradually dispersed, Henry arrived late.
He had eye-catching rainbow-colored hair, looking extremely like WWE wrestler Jeff Hardy.
He also had a listless look, appearing to be a long-term user of opioids like fentanyl.
But he looked thinner and more immature than Jeff.
Like a dark version of Justin Bieber.
"How many times have I warned you not to be late." Charlie put his arm around his son's shoulder. "Look, this is the Leon you've always wanted to meet!"
Henry's excitement was about to overflow from his face.
He gripped Leon's hand tightly, light in his eyes. "God damn it! Mr. Leon, I'm your super fan!"
"My room is full of your posters. I have to stare at your photo to fall asleep every night!"
"It's truly my honor..." Leon dealt with it politely on the surface, but thought in his heart: You'd better not be doing anything weird to my photo.
Henry was so excited he couldn't stop. "The beef between you and Bad Boy Records boss Diddy has swept through the entire internet community. My friends and I just made a bet today..."
"What did you bet on?"
"Haha!" Henry flipped his rainbow hair, acting like a rebellious rich kid. "Betting on how many bullets you'll eat! I bet you'll eat more bullets than 50 Cent!"
Hearing this, Leon's expression immediately darkened.
If not for regarding the other party's status, he would have given him a slap.
"Bastard, watch your words and behavior!" Charlie frowned and reminded from the side.
Leon bit the bullet and chatted with Henry for more than ten minutes. He originally thought this was just a rich kid obsessed with chasing stars, and he could just perfunctorily deal with it.
But the other party's purpose was more than that.
"I'm very interested in being a singer..."
"And you, Mr. Leon, you are the creator I admire most in this circle."