[Chapter 61. A Nefarious Plan & The New Budget.][Alternative Titles: One Hundred & Forty Million Reasons.Sour Grapes & Big Numbers & While Rome Burns.]
Last Time on Chapter 060 of [From Shadows To The Spotlight] —
"Maria," he said, his tone shifting ever so slightly to a more hopeful one. "What's the update on Stark?"
And with that final, loaded question—one that raised a dozen new possibilities—the screen cut to black.
For a brief moment, the audience sat frozen in stunned silence, minds racing with what they had just witnessed.
Then, at last, the end credits began rolling once again.
This time, for good.
Now Continuing —
The after-party buzzed with energy, a mix of Hollywood's elite, crew members, and producers exchanging words over fine wine, cocktails and gourmet hors d'oeuvres. Everywhere John Langston looked, there was praise for Spider-Man.
Studio executives, directors, actors and the like were engaged in animated discussions about the film's revolutionary action sequences, its emotional depth, and how it would most likely redefine what superhero films stand for.
And all of it just made John Langston—the man who had declared war on Alex nearly half a year back—sick to his stomach.
Sitting in a corner of the lavishly decorated dining hall, away from the fanfare, he swirled his glass of whiskey, jaw clenched in frustration as he watched Alex Masters being pulled into yet another conversation with an impressed investor or peer.
That smug bastard, smirking and laughing as if he had done something special.
'If one can throw enough money at a film and even a monkey will be able to make something watchable,' Langston thought bitterly.
His companion at the table, Harvey Weinstein, co-founder of Miramax let out a low chuckle, watching Langston's visible irritation. "Relax, John," he said, popping a bacon-wrapped date into his mouth. "You're going to need a second set of dentures before the night is over if you keep grinding your teeth like that."
Langston shot him a glare. "Tell me you don't see it, Harvey. They're acting like he's some kind of fucking genius. Like he just reinvented the goddamn wheel or something."
Harvey smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it is a good movie. At least, that's what they're all saying."
Langston scoffed as he took another sip of his drink. "Of course they're saying that."
"The man burned through a budget bigger than some countries' GDP. You give me that kind of money, I'll make a masterpiece too. It's not talent, it's just brute force. It's nothing but a fluke."
Harvey nodded slowly, though his mind was elsewhere. Outwardly, he let Langston vent, giving him just enough agreement to keep him talking. Inwardly, however, Weinstein was far more skeptical about Langston's claims.
Spider-Man wasn't just another bloated blockbuster. Harvey had been around long enough to know when something was different, he had experienced enough upheavals to be able to sense when the tides of Hollywood were about to shift.
And this? This film?
He couldn't just chalk it up as a fluke. Not when he felt like it was going to set the standard, the benchmark that the moviegoers are going to compare all other blockbusters with.
Still, there was no point in telling John that, so he kept mum.
"I mean, we've seen this before," Langston continued, his words laced with frustration.
"Batman, Superman—they had their day in the sun, and look what happened. A couple of disasters later, and now no one wants to touch them. Hollywood's learned its lesson. Superheroes don't have staying power."
Harvey tilted his head. "You sure you want to use Batman & Robin as an example?" He smirked. "Wasn't that yours?"
Langston's hand tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning white. "That wasn't my fault," he hissed. "That was Schumacher and Clooney not being able to keep their muse in check and whenever I tried to intervene they just ignored me."
"That was because of a studio that didn't know what the hell it wanted and actors with over inflated ego." His voice lowered to a venomous whisper.
"I swear to god this must be the reason that the smug bastard mostly chose fresh faces and D-list actors to be the face of such big franchises like Lord of the Ring and Marvel."
"And if I try to suggest the same to the other execs I just get laughed out of their office."
"But I got the blame. And now I'm on goddamn thin ice."
Harvey let out a low hum of acknowledgment. Warner had taken a financial beating with that disaster. It wasn't just the $90 million loss at the box office—it was the damage done to the brand.
Comic sales tanked. Merchandise was dead on arrival. Batman went from one of the most valuable IPs to a radioactive property no one wanted to touch. And Langston? He had been the name attached to it.
Langston took another gulp of whiskey, shaking his head. "And now, here comes Masters with his 'vision'. He's got everyone drinking the Kool-Aid, thinking he's the future of Hollywood."
He scoffed. "Give it a few years, Harvey. His little empire is going to crumble."
Harvey's smirk widened. "Maybe," he said, though he didn't believe it. "Or maybe he's just getting started."
Langston's eyes narrowed. "What the hell do you mean?"
Harvey shrugged, but his mind was already three steps ahead. Unlike Langston, who was drowning in his own bitterness, Harvey understood the game. Alex Masters wasn't some lucky upstart who stumbled into success—he was crafting a dynasty.
Studio MONARCH wasn't just about making movies; it was setting a new precedent. Fortunately enough for him though, Harvey didn't need to compete with Alex on blockbusters—his model at Miramax was different.
But he knew one thing: Alex was going to change Hollywood forever.
Not that Langston needed to hear that. He didn't think his "friend" would ever be able to get his head out of the sand and face reality.
Harvey grinned, changing the subject. "You know, John, I've got my own little plans for next year." His fingers tapped against his glass. "The Academy is due for a shake-up. Let's just say… next Oscars? I'm gonna make sure Miramax owns it."
Langston gave him a sidelong look. "And how the hell do you plan to do that?"
Harvey simply smiled, a dark glint in his eyes. "Let's just say," he murmured, "I know how to make people owe me favors."
Langston scoffed, but before he could say anything more, a roar of laughter erupted from across the room. Both men turned to see Alex Masters, surrounded by industry heavyweights, shaking hands and basking in the attention.
Langston seethed.
Harvey simply observed. He had survived in Hollywood not just by brute force, but by knowing who to align himself with, who to be wary of, and who to watch.
And Alex Masters? He wasn't just another director riding a lucky streak.
He was the future.
Langston, however, wasn't ready to accept that. His grip on his whiskey glass tightened, the ice clinking against the sides as his frustration boiled over. He had spent years building his reputation, clawing his way to the top. He wasn't about to be overshadowed by some upstart director with a lucky break.
Harvey watched Langston with mild amusement. "Careful, John. That kind of anger leads to impulsive choices.. to bad decisions."
Langston exhaled sharply. We'll see about that.
-----------
At one corner of the room, Robert Downey Jr., dressed in a sleek dark suit with his signature unshaven charm, leaned back in his chair, sipping from a glass of sparkling water. Across from him sat his longtime agent, Gary Bell—mid-40s, sharp-eyed, and always calculating. At the moment, however, Gary was struggling to keep his usual composed demeanor as Robert flashed him a smug grin.
"Told you so, didn't I?" Robert quipped, his voice laced with amusement.
Gary sighed, rubbing his temple. "Don't start, Robert."
"No, no. I distinctly remember you saying, 'Superhero movies don't have longevity. It's a fad, Robbie. You're better off doing prestige dramas or buddy comedies.'" He gestured around the room. "Does this look like a fad to you?"
Gary exhaled sharply. "Look, I'll admit, Spider-Man was better than I expected. But it doesn't mean Alex is going to throw the same kind of money behind Iron Man. Spidey's a top-tier hero—your guy's still third-string in most people's eyes."
Before Robert could shoot back another remark, a familiar figure approached their table—Alex Masters himself, fresh from a conversation with James Cameron about the Titanic reshoots.
The 6'4" director moved with an effortless confidence, dressed in a simple yet well-tailored navy blue button down and dark slacks. There was an air of exhaustion about him, but also satisfaction.
"Robert! Gary!" Alex cheerfully greeted, sliding into the empty seat beside them. "So, what did you guys think of the film?"
Robert grinned, his earlier smugness now turning into genuine enthusiasm. "Man, it was fantastic. I loved the action, but what really sold me were the emotional beats. The scenes with Peter and Uncle Ben? Nailed it. That might just be the thing that I felt was missing from Warner's superhero flicks—heart."
Gary, still the businessman, gave a nod. "Yeah, it was solid. Tight pacing, great performances. But more than that, you managed to make it feel... real. But after seeing your work in Star Wars, its something I've come to expect. I'd even wager it would soon become a hallmark of yours."
Alex smirked. "That's the goal. The spectacle is just window dressing. If people aren't emotionally invested and care about the characters, the movie just falls apart. And that realism just helps them immerse themselves into the story more smoothly."
Seizing the moment, Robert leaned in with an easy grin. "So, Alex, I gotta ask—will my Iron Man movie be getting the same kind of big-budget treatment as Spider-Man?"
Alex cocked an eyebrow. "What brings that question to mind?"
Robert smirked, jerking his thumb at Gary. "Well, my dear agent here has some... lingering doubts you see. He thinks that with Iron Man's still being a C-list superhero at best. You'd never be willing to invest the same kind of money in Iron-Man that you did on Spidey."
Alex let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, Gary, I can see why you'd be skeptical. But allow me to put your fears to rest. You see, after Spider-Man went over budget by nineteen million, I had to reassess things."
Gary straightened slightly, his interest piqued. "Oh, reassess how? And what's Iron Man budget looking at now?"
Alex leaned back, casually taking a sip of his drink before answering. "We had to raise the estimated budget for the CGI and post so the budget has been increased to a hundred and forty million."
Gary froze mid-drink, his glass nearly slipping from his fingers. "Wait—what?"
Robert's smirk vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise. "One-forty?" he repeated in disbelief.
Alex nodded. "Yep. One million more than even Spider-Man's final cost. Needed to make sure the tech and practical effects matched the vision I have for it."
Gary blinked rapidly, his brain working through the implications. He had tried multiple times to get Alex to reveal Iron Man's budget—especially when negotiating Robert's salary. But Alex had been tight-lipped, refusing to pay Robert more than five million upfront. Now, to hear that this so-called "C-list" hero was getting an even bigger budget than Spider-Man?
Gary cleared his throat, unable to think to what to say, as Alex's audaciousness left him stunned. "I see..."
Robert, however, looked at Alex in a new light. He had always believed in the role, but he hadn't expected Alex to put this much faith in him. A hundred and forty million dollars. That wasn't just a movie budget. That was a statement.
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before grinning. "Damn, Alex. You're really going all in on this one, huh?"
Alex met his gaze, his expression serious but with a flicker of amusement. "You know, I don't like do things half-assed, RD. If I am going to do it, then its all hands on deck."
Robert nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. This wasn't just another gig—this was the gig. The one that could redefine his career.
He smirked, pointing at Alex. "Alright, I promise I won't screw this up. You're gonna get the best damn Tony Stark you've ever seen."
Alex grinned. "I expect nothing less."
Gary, still digesting everything, cleared his throat and shifted the conversation. "So... when's filming starting?"
Alex checked his watch and shrugged. "We're still in pre-production. Right now, I'm working on the background score with Hans. We're trying to get the right kind of sound for the film."
Gary raised an eyebrow. "Hans did Spider-Man's score too, right? I was surprised that you're able to convince him him to come on board for a superhero action flick."
Alex shook his head. "It wasn't really that difficult. Hans an old friend, and he was willing to collaborate if he liked the story enough. Which as you can tell by now he did.
"Though not every movie will need Hans' grandiose vision, but the ones that do? They'll have him. Unlike Warner, I'm not making movies just to push toy sales or comic sales. I want to tell a damn good story. And Hans understands that."
Gary studied him for a moment before chuckling. "Well, I can't argue with that, the BGM just adds another dimension to the story. I just hope you don't blow the whole budget on music."
Alex smirked. "Well I am certainly not going to make any promises about that but don't worry, Gary. I've got a plan."
Robert clapped his hands together, grinning. "Well, whatever the plan is, I'm ready. Let's make history, boys."
Alex raised his glass. "To Marvel."
Robert and Gary exchanged a glance before lifting their glasses as well.
"To Marvel," they echoed.
The clink of their glasses sealed the moment. In a year's time, they wouldn't just be celebrating a film—they'd be celebrating the birth of a legend.
— To be continued...
{2,281 words}
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