Kevin Feige looked nervously up at his new boss. The two of them were seated across from each other in the corner office of Marvel Studios. Troy was flipping silently through a stack of documents, his expression unreadable.
"This plan of yours is good," Troy finally said, breaking the silence. He looked up, meeting Kevin's eyes for the first time in minutes. "I would definitely like to suggest some changes, but for a start, it's amazing."
Kevin released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The tension in his shoulders eased. For the past few days, he'd feared he was about to lose his job.
But then Troy asked something completely unexpected.
"Tell me, why exactly did we cast Rachel McAdams as Pepper Potts?"
Kevin tensed again. "Why? Do you have a problem with her?"
Troy shook his head slowly. "No. Just curious. Did you consider any other actress for the role before her?"
Kevin nodded. "We were considering Gwyneth Paltrow," he said honestly. "But she backed out because she had already signed on for another project. Rachel's audition was amazing, and she has had a huge fan following ever since [The Notebook]. After your takeover of Marvel, she even agreed to sign the revised contract, like Downey. But since she's not playing a hero, she only signed on for seven movies, and her salary is capped at ten million."
"Fair," Troy said with a small nod of approval. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "What about Terrence Howard? You got in contact with him?"
Kevin's expression soured slightly. He sighed audibly. "I didn't talk to him personally, but from what I have heard, he keeps blaming me and Marvel for lying to him."
Troy tilted his head. "To be honest, he's not entirely wrong. I mean, if I were in a movie and I got paid nine times more than the lead actor, I'd think I was the bigger star. I still find it hard to believe you paid him four and a half million for a supporting role. Sure, he has an Oscar nomination and all that jazz, but did he even have a single blockbuster hit to justify that kind of paycheck?"
Kevin looked away, his voice quieter now. "A lot of factors have to be considered when hiring. He was hot at the time. And yes, the Oscar buzz played a part."
Troy shook his head, clearly unimpressed. "You never pay your supporting actors more than your leads unless they bring something massive to the table. Howard didn't. Normal people don't give a shit about Oscars. From now on, any actor being paid more than a million dollars needs to be approved by me personally. Keep it in mind that if someone demands more than that for their first appearance in the series, we don't need them. It's that simple. Hollywood isn't short on talent."
Kevin nodded slowly, his pen tapping against the notepad in front of him. "What do we do with Terrence now? Should we replace him? We've already delivered the ultimatum to his agents, but we haven't hired anyone else yet."
Troy exhaled deeply, considering the options. He tapped a finger against the tabletop in thought. After a moment, he said, "Set up a meeting with him. Be honest. Explain why we need him to reconsider. Tell him the MCU will become the biggest thing in the world, but only if everyone involved thinks beyond themselves. Like Downey did. Like McAdams did. If he still doesn't budge, hire Don Cheadle. He's a good actor."
Kevin nodded, taking mental notes as he processed the instructions. The future of Marvel was shifting—one decision at a time.
"Same with Edward Norton. If he's ready to work with the rest of the team and not fight for control, only then can he be allowed to be the Hulk."
Kevin's expression tightened. He shook his head almost instantly. "No. I'm not working with that guy again. He is… an asshole. If I put it politely. He made the entire set so toxic that I had multiple people emailing me daily, begging me to rein him in. I tried. But he just wouldn't listen. I guess that's what happens when you don't actually need the money and you're just doing it for 'art.'"
Troy leaned back in his chair, watching Kevin with unreadable eyes.
"Are you trying to say something to me, Kevin?" he asked quietly.
Kevin's face drained of color. He had momentarily forgotten that Troy himself was an actor who didn't need the paycheck either.
"No, I... I didn't mean you—"
His stumbling apology was cut off by Troy bursting into laughter. He leaned forward and smacked Kevin's back playfully.
"Man, lighten up a bit. I won't eat you."
Kevin let out a nervous chuckle. While most people in the industry spoke positively about Troy, he had still heard the usual horror stories about billionaire teenagers. He wasn't quite ready to find out whether Troy fell into the same category or not.
"The ultimate decision is yours about Norton," Troy said after regaining his composure. He adjusted in his seat, then steered the conversation elsewhere. "Now tell me, how much money have we made on the two films we released this year?"
Kevin hesitated, flipping open a folder on the table in front of him. "Well, [Iron Man] grossed 585 million on a budget of 140 million. The profits come out to be around 35 million. [The Incredible Hulk]... grossed 266 million on a similar budget, and we lost about 58 million on it. Our losses would've been even higher, but since it was a shared production with Valhalla, the losses were also split. These are just theatrical numbers, though. Home and satellite revenue haven't been factored in yet. But if you include the rise in comic book and merch sales for the two characters, we pretty much broke even."
Troy nodded slowly, absorbing the numbers. "Just 35 million profit on [Iron Man]? That's strange."
"Most of our profits went to the distributors," Kevin said with a sigh. "That can't be helped. We need the distribution channels of a big Hollywood studio to release the movies worldwide."
"That's... true," Troy admitted, although reluctantly. He looked off toward the window for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Alright, let me see what I can do to solve the distribution problem. My next meeting will help me decide on that."
Kevin raised an eyebrow, curious. "How?"
Troy only smiled faintly and shook his head. "You'll know soon enough."
(Break)
In a stunning turn of events, Lehman Brothers, one of Wall Street's oldest and most prestigious investment banks, has filed for bankruptcy. The 158-year-old firm, once considered a pillar of the financial industry, could not find a buyer and is now seeking protection under Chapter 11, marking the largest bankruptcy in U.S. history.
Markets around the world have plunged on fears that Lehman's collapse will deepen the financial crisis. The Dow Jones Industrial Average fell sharply in early trading, while investors rushed to safer assets like Treasury bonds and gold…
The news anchor continued, but I reached for the remote and turned the volume down until her words were inaudible. My attention shifted back to the open leather-bound ledger in front of me, its columns neat and precise, as if mocking the chaos unraveling outside.
Even now, I found it hard to believe the number staring back at me.
"Is this for real?" I asked, my voice edged with disbelief.
"Yes," Andrew replied with a nod, though there was no trace of joy in his voice. "Other than XLF ETF, Citigroup, Wells Fargo, and AIG, I cashed out of all our put options and credit default swaps as soon as Lehman Brothers' value dropped to practically nothing. Bear Stearns was the exception. That one was closed out back in February when JPMorgan bought them."
He leaned forward, flipping a page in his own notes before continuing.
"After paying the 15 percent in taxes, your investment account now holds thirty-six billion dollars."
I blinked, stunned. That number didn't even seem real.
If I added my other assets, which were already worth ten billion, that brought my net worth to forty-six billion dollars. And that didn't even include the estimated twenty-five billion still tied up in those remaining four positions Andrew mentioned.
This was madness. Beyond anything I could have imagined. I had come to terms with being rich, but this… this was obscene.
There was just one detail I couldn't wrap my head around.
"Just fifteen percent taxes?" I asked, frowning.
Andrew shrugged, as if this sort of thing was routine. "There's a huge carried interest loophole. If your business is structured as a hedge fund, you pay just fifteen percent, even on short-term capital gains. We couldn't take advantage of it before when your funds were offshore or routed through multiple trusts, but now that everything is back in the U.S., there's no reason to pay more than necessary."
I sat back, absorbing that. Back in my first life, I used to hate billionaires who used loopholes like this while I paid the full top tax rate of forty percent. Now, I was one of them asshole billionaires.
"Congrats," Andrew said dryly, closing the folder. "You are now officially the fourth richest person in the world."
It didn't sound real until he said it out loud.
"Holy shit," I whispered, after several seconds of stunned silence.
"Yep."
I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes. "Is something the matter? You don't seem very enthused."
He gave a half-hearted shrug. "I'm happy. Don't I look happy?"
"No, you don't," I said bluntly. "Now tell me what the fuck is wrong with you. Didn't you also make a billion of your own?"
"I… did," he admitted, though he didn't meet my eyes. His voice was quieter now. "More than a billion, in fact. It's just that… the market hasn't gone up a single day since we closed these trades. And from the look of things, it's not going to rise anytime soon. I can only imagine how many people have already lost their jobs… and how many more will."
I had a pretty good idea of what was going through Andrew's head. If I was being honest, the same thought had crossed my mind earlier.
Every actor has one essential requirement to be successful: be likable. The moment this news hits the media, that likability will vanish. I'll be vilified. The public will turn on me.
There was already plenty of resentment after the FBI raid, especially once my real net worth was revealed to the world. [The Dark Knight] had managed to do some damage control, shifting the narrative just enough to focus on my performance instead of my wealth. But all that effort would be undone in a matter of days.
Thankfully, I had taken some pre-emptive steps to mitigate the fallout.
"I know how it looks to normal people," I said, keeping my voice even. "They'll think they lost their jobs because of people like us."
"But that's true," Andrew argued, leaning forward, brows furrowed. "If we hadn't gamed the system…"
"Lehman Brothers would have still sunk," I cut him off. "If not us, then someone else would've exploited the same cracks. I won't feel guilty for making money when I went on national television and warned everyone this was inevitable."
Andrew let out a long breath. "I know you're right, but I still feel a little guilty. The people will eat us alive once they find out."
"See a therapist if that's what you need to deal with your guilt," I suggested bluntly. "As far as public perception is concerned, I've already hired a crisis management firm. They advised I make a visible, impactful donation. Something the average person can relate to. I'll donate ten percent of what I earned, around three billion dollars, to my charity. This time, all of it will go toward building homes for the homeless, especially those who have lost their jobs recently."
I paused before continuing, "In addition to that, I'll set aside one billion in a Venture Capital Fund to support small business ideas."
Andrew's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea! And it'll generate so many jobs."
"Exactly," I nodded. "That's why I want you to head that Venture Capital Fund. Would you be interested?"
He dipped his head slightly, his expression humbled. "I'd be honored." After a beat, he asked, "What else? That'll help with public perception, sure, but it's not enough."
That was true.
"The narrative needs to be carefully controlled," I said. "The crisis team will hire multiple ghostwriters to publish opinion pieces in major newspapers; pieces that paint me in a positive light. They'll also sway public sentiment online using a network of fake accounts and bots. But that part will roll out later."
I stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the Los Angeles skyline as the sun dipped lower.
"Tomorrow," I continued, "I'll release a video on my YouTube channel to break the news myself. Better it comes from me than from someone trying to twist the story."
"Makes sense," Andrew said, his voice more settled now.
For a minute, neither of us spoke. The room was quiet, lit only by the warm glow of the desk lamp and the fading daylight outside. I sat in silence, thinking about the future.
I had just become one of the richest people on Earth, but that status would come with its own set of challenges, some of which I could see coming, and others that remained hidden just beyond the horizon. In retrospect, I shouldn't have given that interview to Jay Leno. Now, every other interview I do will be measured against that one. People will think I'm being less honest, less sincere.
But I forced myself to push those thoughts aside. What was the point of amassing this much wealth if I was going to live in constant fear of consequences?
If things ever got truly out of hand, I still had options. My sprawling, secluded property in the UK could easily serve as my retreat once filming on [Deathly Hallows] wrapped. Or maybe I'd disappear into my New Zealand home for a while...
"So... what next?"
Andrew's voice cut through my thoughts. He was watching me closely, a mixture of curiosity and caution in his expression.
"Last time we made bank," he continued, "you bought Marvel, Netflix, and pumped a ton of cash into YouTube. What are you planning to do this time?"
"That's simple," I said with a grin. "I want you to buy me a film distribution company."
Andrew blinked, then nodded slowly. "Which one? With the cash you have now, you could buy one of the big six."
I nodded back. "I know. But the problem starts the moment we try to buy any one of them. As soon as the news leaks, the company's stock price will jump, just like it did with Marvel and Netflix."
When Andrew and Bobby had led the team to begin due diligence for those acquisitions, both companies saw their share prices surge by twenty percent overnight—even with the airtight NDAs we'd made everyone sign. The same pattern would repeat with any of the big six studios. At my current wealth level, I could afford to buy a controlling stake in any of them, even Disney, which remained the priciest among the group.
"There is something you could do to manage that," Andrew said cautiously. "Normally, I wouldn't recommend it because it's a bit expensive. But considering your current resources... it might be worth it."
I leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm listening."
"Start due diligence on all six of them," he said. "Since the market's been in a slump, M&A experts have cut their fees. You could get a basic diligence package done for around two to three million per company. That way, if anything leaks, investors won't know which company you're actually after."
Slowly, the brilliance of his plan unfolded in my mind.
"And because no one will know who the real target is," I said, finishing his thought, "the stock prices should remain more or less stable. The twenty odd million I spend on the process would be far less than the premium I'd pay if even one price spiked."
"Exactly," Andrew said, grinning now. "So, what do you say?"
"It's perfect," I replied. "Do it. Call Bobby and get him started on the process."
"Gladly," he said, already reaching for his phone.
I nodded. "Also, I would like you to—"
Suddenly, my phone began buzzing on the table, its screen lighting up. I glanced at the caller ID. If it had been a social call, I would've ignored it without hesitation. But the name on the screen made that impossible.
It was the head of security for my group of companies.
"I have to take this," I said to Andrew, a hint of apology in my tone, before picking up the phone.
"Robert!" I greeted. "How can I help you today?"
Robert Mueller, former director of the FBI, had joined my company just two months ago. He rarely called me directly, and the tension in his voice immediately told me something was wrong.
"Troy, turn on NBC," he said without preamble. "They're running a piece on you right now. You need to see it. They contacted me for a comment, but I declined."
A cold wave of dread passed through me.
I looked up at Andrew, jaw tightening. "Turn it to NBC."
He grabbed the remote and switched the channel. The screen changed just in time for us to catch the beginning of the segment.
"As global markets reel from the catastrophic collapse of Lehman Brothers, one name is making headlines for all the wrong reasons—19-year-old actor and pop superstar Troy Armitage of [Harry Potter] fame. The international sensation, already worth an astonishing twenty billion dollars, reportedly made an additional thirty billion by betting against Wall Street just as the financial giant crumbled."
The anchor's voice was sharp, laced with accusation. It felt personal, as if I were sitting in the studio with her and she was directing the wrath of an entire nation at me.
"Sources say Armitage's team of private financiers used complex short-selling strategies that paid off big when Lehman Brothers went under, sending shockwaves through the financial system. While millions of Americans now face job losses, foreclosures, and a shrinking economy, Armitage's personal net worth has soared to a staggering forty-six billion dollars, after taxes, making him the fourth richest person on the planet."
My stomach twisted. I didn't need to hear the rest to know this wasn't just bad press. This was a public trial playing out on live television.
"Experts are saying that Troy's actions were predatory and opportunistic, with some even accusing him of profiting off a national tragedy. Armitage and his representatives have so far declined to comment."
The screen cut to images of angry protests outside shuttered banks, overlaid with shots of me smiling at film premieres and accepting awards, especially my latest one, the Emmy. The contrast was brutal.
"Tonight, as families across the country wonder how they'll put food on the table, one of the richest young stars on the planet is even richer. I'd like to ask Mr. Armitage this: What exactly do you need this much money for? Did you not already have enough?"
I closed my eyes and let the words wash over me. So much for controlling the narrative. The pre-emptive video, the PR strategy, the opinion pieces… All that head start that had been planned went down the drain.
"That's a clusterfuck if I've seen one," Andrew said, summing it up perfectly.
________________________
AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com