Dawn. June 25, 2001.
The first ray of sunlight hit Raphael Lee's bedroom, but he was dead to the world.
Brrrring!
The cordless phone on the nightstand screamed.
The woman beside him groaned, waking up just enough to kick him.
Eyes still glued shut, Raphael grumbled and fumbled for the receiver.
"If you're selling insurance, I swear to God you're going to die a very..."
"Raph, my dear brother, look at the time! Did you forget what day it is? Christ, how are you still sleeping?"
The familiar voice snapped Raphael into a state of semi-consciousness. He cracked an eye open and squinted at the wall clock.
"It's only ten, Philip. What's the emergency? Talk, or I'm hanging up."
"Wait! Damn it, don't you even want to know the opening weekend box office? It's unbelievable. Who would believe I work for a Hollywood star who doesn't give a crap about his debut movie's numbers?"
"I knew this movie was going to be a hit three days ago at the premiere. I told you so."
"Okay, okay. Word from Universal is the opening weekend just broke forty million! Congratulations, you cynical bastard. You're about to be famous!"
A smile finally broke through Raphael's sleep-fogged face. The exhaustion vanished.
He lifted the arm draped across his chest, grabbed the phone, and headed for the bathroom.
"What else? Give me specifics. What are IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes saying?"
The sound of rushing water echoed from the bathroom.
"Not that fast, man. What are you talking about? Reviews are embargoed for at least another three days. Besides, it's a standard popcorn flick; don't expect miracles. But I heard from your agent that the market response is blowing expectations out of the water, especially for your performance. So, Ari—that idiot—told me to tell you: once you're rested up, get your ass to his office. He's got a mountain of scripts waiting for you to bless them."
"Tell him I'll be there."
Flush!
Raphael strutted out of the bathroom, completely naked. He didn't bother getting dressed right away. He tossed the phone onto the bed and dropped to the floor for a set of prison cell push-ups.
Meanwhile, the woman sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and stared at the guy who'd had her screaming his name three hours ago.
"When you brought me back here last night, you failed to mention you were a movie star."
"Technically, I'm not a star yet. My first movie only came out three days ago."
"...Whatever. I have to go to work. We're a long way from Burbank. Can you give me a ride?"
"Sure thing! Go hit the shower, and I'll whip up some breakfast."
"You're a real gentleman, sweetheart. Careful, or I might just fall for you."
"Don't do me any favors, babe."
---
Two hours later, Raphael pulled up to Maple Drive in Beverly Hills.
This was the headquarters of WME, one of the top four talent agencies in Hollywood, and the one he'd officially signed with when he decided to conquer the town.
Having lived a previous life, he was taking his future and his choices very seriously this time around.
To be honest, ever since he was reborn in this cutthroat country nineteen years ago, becoming a star was practically the only path that made sense.
And it was the best path.
After all, in this life, he'd hit the genetic jackpot. He was the kind of guy God practically shoved success onto.
In his past life , he never dreamed he'd ever make movies or be famous. He had struggled and tried other things after his rebirth, but brutal reality taught him that acting was his safest bet—the lowest cost of trial and error for survival.
He didn't have a genius intellect like Tony Stark, and he didn't come from old money.
The only thing he really had going for him was his half-Jewish heritage.
In Hollywood, having some Jewish blood was a golden ticket. Raphael knew that firsthand.
If it weren't for that heritage, did he really think he could have edged out Paul Walker—director Rob Cohen's golden boy—to land the lead role of Brian O'Conner in the first The Fast and the Furious?
Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.
Of course, his lineage alone wasn't enough to win him the audition last year.
His real trump card was the one thing every reincarnated soul needed: a cheat code.
A hack.
Raphael's cheat activated a year and a half ago—January 25, 2000, to be exact.
At first, he thought it was standard issue.
A holographic projection hovered in his field of vision, displaying his stats:
[Raphael Lee : Constitution 1 (Baseline: Self), Spirit 1.]
[Skills: Mandarin Lvl 3 (Max Lvl 5), English Lvl 3, French Lvl 2, MMA Lvl 1, Driving Lvl 1, Cooking Lvl 3.]
Those were his base stats.
Constitution and Spirit were self-explanatory, measured against his physical baseline on his eighteenth birthday.
Mandarin and Cooking were carryovers from his past life.
In this life, he had an Asian-American father who died young and a French-Jewish mother, which explained why he had French on his skill tree alongside English—though he could only comprehend and speak it, not write it.
As for MMA and Driving, he'd signed up for a boxing gym figuring he needed a special skill for Hollywood.
His driving was basic; he just knew how to operate a vehicle.
Then came the night the cheat really kicked in.
In his sleep, Raphael entered an incredibly vivid cinematic world.
The world of The Fast and the Furious.
When he realized he was dreaming but couldn't wake up, he decided to just roll with it.
He outed Brian O'Conner as a cop to Dom Toretto way ahead of schedule. He convinced Dom to make peace with the Asian gangs. And during a joint raid by the FBI and LAPD, he took a bullet meant for Dom.
The very next second, the cheat booted him from the dream.
When he snapped back to reality, massive blocks of text filled his stat panel.
Reading through it, he finally understood how his hack worked.
Simply put, when Raphael entered a movie world, he could use whatever means necessary to increase his influence there, until he ultimately replaced the original protagonist or completely erased their presence.
Just like in the Fast universe.
When Raphael took the bullet meant for Dom, Brian O'Conner's connection to the Toretto family was permanently severed.
Raphael officially took over Brian O'Conner's anchor point in that world.
Upon his return to reality, an invisible force subtly manipulated everyone connected to the film—including Universal executives, producers, the director, and the entire crew.
That was the real reason an eighteen-year-old kid managed to snag the role of Brian O'Conner so effortlessly.
His heritage was just the cherry on top.
Furthermore, once the movie was released, Raphael could purchase anything from that cinematic universe, including character abilities and physical items.
He could literally manifest items from the movie into the real world.
Take The Fast and the Furious, for example. There was plenty of valuable tech, like the "God's Eye" system from the seventh installment.
The downside? The prices were insane.
According to the panel, a complete "God's Eye" would cost him tens of billions of dollars.
It might have been worth it, but it was completely out of reach for him right now.
Since he couldn't afford the luxury items, he had to settle for a bargain.
So, shortly after waking up from that dream, Raphael bought "everything" belonging to Dominic Toretto.
That included his physique, his fluent Spanish, his hand-to-hand combat skills, his elite driving, and his master-level mechanic and modification abilities.
Compared to "God's Eye," Dom's entire skillset only cost a million bucks.
But for Raphael, that was still a massive chunk of change.
His paycheck for the first Fast movie was a measly three hundred thousand dollars.
When Raphael tentatively asked the panel if he could buy on credit, the cheat actually approved it.
According to the system, he just needed to pay off the debt before his second starring role hit theaters.
But if he defaulted...
Let's just say the consequences would be severe.
---
"Raph!"
In a spacious, sunlit office, agent Ari Emanuel greeted him with a wide, beaming smile, pulling Raphael into a bear hug.
Raphael rolled his eyes and unapologetically shoved him away.
"Cut the crap. Didn't you call me in here to pick a script? I'm here. Where are they?"
As a senior agent at WME—just one step away from becoming a partner or high-level executive—Ari was completely shameless.
Even with Raphael looking at him in utter disgust, Ari didn't miss a beat.
"Right here. Had them prepped and waiting."
Ari thumped a massive stack of bound scripts onto the desk in front of Raphael.
"So?"
Raphael knew Ari well enough to know the guy always had an angle.
Right on cue, Ari slid one specific script out from the middle of the pile.
"I highly recommend this one over the rest. Trust me, if we land this, you can toss the others in the trash."
Raphael grabbed the script, glanced at the cover, and froze.
"Star Wars: Episode II? Are you crazy, or am I? The whole town knows George Lucas has been prepping this for a year. The release date is locked for next May. Why are you handing me a Star Wars script now? Do you want me to play a Stormtrooper in a helmet?"
The barrage of questions didn't dent Ari's enthusiasm. He answered with a hint of schadenfreude.
"The original lead, Hayden Christensen, just backed out. Officially, it's a 'scheduling conflict,' but rumor has it he's dealing with a little personal trouble..."
"Are you telling me," Raphael cut him off, "that they need a new Anakin Skywalker?"