I listened to Haley ranting on the phone, her voice emotional.
"He broke up with me, Daniel. Because of that stupid tabloid."
I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I scanned the list of upcoming release dates in my hand.
"Mmm," I hummed absentmindedly, eyes skimming across Superman, The Revenant, Flash, The Dark Knight, John Wick 2…
"Daniel," Haley said, her tone pointed now, "are you even listening to me?"
"I am listening," I said, finally setting the paper down. "But, Hale, I'm also very busy."
"You need to take that article down or something," she snapped. "Do something."
I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair with a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Look, that was some low-tier trash from a bottom-rung tabloid. If your boyfriend really believed it, then honestly? It's probably a good thing it's over."
There was a brief silence, then a sharp inhale from her end.
I added with a smirk, "Why don't you talk to Margot about it? She handles all the other members of my harem, apparently."
Haley made a sound of pure frustration and hung up on me.
I couldn't help it. I laughed. The ménage-à-trois article, the wild speculation about me, Margot, Haley, and even Scarlett it was, without question, the funniest thing I'd read all week.
God, people were unhinged.
Though, the only downside was Scarlett's now-unhinged teasing. Especially now that she was single. The damn woman had no shame in flirting and even Margot, who usually didn't mind our back-and-forth, had to finally put her foot down after last week.
I looked over the list of movies I'm directly involved with—as producer, writer, creative head, or all three and realized that this year and next are stacked.
2014 releases
Superman — November 2014 the release I was looking forward to the most with the next one being the Dark Knight
The Revenant — December 2014 Needed to focus on the Oscar strategy soon.
2015 releases
John Wick 2 — April 2015
The Dark Knight — May 2015
The Flash — July 2015
The Thing — October 2015
Aquaman — March 2016
Of these, I was only worried about John Wick 2; production was a bit behind, but I still hoped to have it released on time.
There were other projects, too, like Fast & Furious 6 and several Stardust animated movies. Each one came with its own headaches. Thankfully, to lessen my burden, most of them had been delegated, leaving me to focus on the important ones at DC and Midas.
One final thought crossed my mind: my directorial debut with The Usual Suspects. I wanted to shoot it next year and release it by mid-2016—and the year after that Justice League would come out, a whole other beast I was wrangling. The director discussion for JL had become a recurring headache. Dave wanted someone "known but bold," Victor wanted someone "safe but scalable," and I… couldn't land on a single name. I didn't want safe. I didn't want flashy. I wanted right. So, for now, I was letting Brad Bird quietly prep his own pitch. He was interested—that was enough, for now.
Justice League was going to be written by Scott and me. We already had two major ideas for moving the story forward, and deciding on that would be important; we needed to coordinate with the Green Lantern writers to keep their script on schedule, since that story had big connections to Justice League.
I shook those thoughts from my mind; I had a more immediate priority: The Flash. I had a meeting with Edgar Wright today and with cinematographer Bill Pope. I needed to make sure the three of us were on the same page about depicting the Flash's running. I wanted something similar to the speedster scenes in Eternals, a movie I remembered watching in my previous life. Those scenes stuck with me, and I wanted something equally striking.
I stood up from my chair, the list still in my hand, and walked toward the door. Just as I reached it, Julie my PA stepped in holding a small FedEx box.
"Hey, Jules," I said. "I was just heading out to meet Edgar and—"
"This came for you," she said, raising the package. "With a note."
She passed me a simple slip of paper, scrawled in pen:
No more favors.
I froze for a moment, then smirked. I knew what this was.
"Put it in my office," I told her, my tone sharper now. "And don't open it. No matter what."
Julie gave me a look but nodded. "Got it."
'I needed to get through this meeting quickly,' I thought as I walked, mainly because of the package Julie had brought over. But for now, I had to focus.
I made my way across the studio lot to one of the screening rooms. Principal photography for The Flash was set to begin next week one of the shortest shoots in the DCU so far, just over two months. That was by design; a lot would be handled in post.
Inside the dim room, director Edgar Wright and cinematographer Bill Pope were already seated, watching rough footage on the big monitor.
On-screen, Captain Cold flicked his modified freeze gun upward with deliberate calm Wentworth Miller, radiating the same stoic charm I remembered from his CW run in another life: cold, composed, perfect. Beside him, Heatwave Boyd Holbrook was an unpredictable contrast, leaning into a pyro edge. He looked like the kind of guy who'd torch a gas station just to watch the colors burn.
Only two Rogues this time just enough for the first movie.
"Adler," Edgar called with his usual upbeat energy as I stepped in.
"Wright. Pope," I greeted, sliding into the seat beside them, my eyes flicking to the screen. Edgar was talking about costume refinements leaning toward minimalism. Bill nodded along, flipping through some test stills.
"I think it's a little too simplistic," I said, casual but firm.
Edgar shrugged, always open to pushback. "Fair. But I guess you're here to talk about how the running sequences should be filmed…"
I nodded.
"I think all three of us have very different ideas," Edgar added. "I know you read my draft."
"I did, and I have to veto that version."
He raised a brow.
"It's just… boring, Edgar."
He chuckled, but there was a brief pause—not offended, but taking it in.
What Edgar had in mind was a vague blur trailing lightning bolts and a whoosh of wind literally the most boring thing.
Bill Pope gave a quiet nod. "I'm with Daniel. It's boring."
I sat forward. "I've got an idea. And Bill, I need you to really hear me on this because it's not easy to describe what I'm seeing in my head."
Bill glanced at me. "Go ahead."
"I've been thinking a lot about the run," I said, pacing slowly in front of the monitor. "It has to feel grounded, yet completely alien in its speed."
Pope nodded thoughtfully, arms crossed, eyes roaming the ceiling as if watching the scene unfold in his mind. Edgar, meanwhile, leaned back, lips pressed and eyes narrowed, curious, challenging, but listening.
"Picture this," I continued. "The camera stays with Barry. He isn't a blur, we're riding shotgun. The world distorts, warps, bends around him, but he stays sharp."
"The environment smears," Pope echoed, picking up the thread, "but the Flash doesn't?"
"Exactly." I snapped my fingers. "Like a drone locked on a hummingbird mid-flight."
Edgar leaned forward, more engaged now. "So we never cut away to show the speed we stay with him inside it."
"Right. Add lightning streaks sparingly. Not constant, not chaotic. Just enough to show the static in the air, the power he's channeling."
Pope whistled softly, impressed. "Simple"
I nodded. "I want the audience to feel the displacement of Barry's movement. When he's running especially at top speed it should be like… Birds startled mid-flight. Raindrops hanging in the air. Dust swirling into fractals before he slices through it."
Edgar grinned. "Okay, I can visualize this now."
Pope glanced at him. "That final sequence with Reverse-Flash will be brutal to choreograph, though."
Edgar shrugged. "Makes it more fun."
"This will make or break the movie," I said, dead serious. "People need to be in awe, because that's what they'll remember. It's a Flash movie, he's the guy who runs fast."
Pope nodded. "Give me a few weeks. I'll sketch it out, maybe whip up some previz."
"Next month works," I said, and Edgar agreed.
As the meeting wrapped, Edgar and I walked out together.
"Thanks, by the way," he said, glancing over. "For keeping the disruptions to a minimum."
I gave him a look. "We want you to work your magic, Edgar."
He smiled. "You're making it easy. Honestly, we might finish principal ahead of schedule. Grant's been fantastic to work with."
I grinned. "No rush. Take your time."
We shook hands and split he heading back to the lot, me pivoting like a man on a mission.
Because I was a man on a mission.
My pace quickened; I nearly sprinted back to my office.
The package. I really needed to read what was inside that package.
=====
As I stepped into my office, I stopped short, someone was already waiting for me.
An older studio executive in a sharp suit sat confidently in one of the guest chairs, a knowing smirk on his face. It took me half a second to place him: Lester—Mr. Lester.
"Mr. Lester," I said, shaking his hand professional but warm. "I didn't realize we had a meeting today."
"We don't," he replied, eyes twinkling. "Just thought I'd drop by to introduce someone." He gestured to the young woman standing half a step behind him.
I hadn't noticed her at first: late twenties, tall, elegant, wearing a tailored suit that suggested confidence—though her gaze stayed fixed downward. Nervous.
"This is my granddaughter, Cassandra."
She finally looked up, and our eyes met. Her expression wavered between admiration and panic. She managed a shy smile.
"You promised she could work for you at Midas," Lester added casually, as if reminding me of an overdue favor.
Did I? No memory of that but I smiled and nodded anyway.
"Well, Cassandra," I said, stepping forward and offering my hand, "nice to finally meet you."
Her grip was gentle, her cheeks decidedly flushed; Lester noticed too.
"She's all about making movies," he said proudly. "Top of her class. Obsessed with your work, actually she was practically vibrating on the way here."
Cassandra looked mortified. I grinned.
"If she's that eager, I have just the thing." I remembered an opening at Midas, a Development Assistant position.
"Come by next week," I said to her. "We'll get you sorted."
"Oh thank you, Mr. Adler. I won't let you down."
"I'm counting on it," I replied before turning back to Lester. "Appreciate you coming by. And I may cash in that favor soon if you remember what we discussed last month."
Lester's expression turned serious. "I remember. Him. It's dangerous, Adler. But yes …I'll help however I can."
"Good. You keep your end of the bargain that's all I ask," I said with a wink.
As I moved past them, my eyes landed on the FedEx package sitting on my desk. Finally.
I grabbed it, anticipation surging. "Apologies, Lester Cassandra I've got to run."
"Of course," Lester said. "She'll see you next week."
I nodded to Cassandra. "Looking forward to it."
Then I was gone, package in hand, mind already racing—and two friends to see.
=====
I walked into Matt's apartment and saw that John had already arrived.
Matt looked up from his sketchpad, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. "So, what's so important, Danny? I was in the zone drawing."
John chimed in without glancing away from the screen. "Yeah, and I was in a meeting."
"Shut up," I said with a grin, "and look at this."
I set the FedEx box on the table with a dramatic thud.
"A FedEx package," John said bored.
"You guys know Disney's making a Star Wars sequel, right?" I said ignoring him.
That got their attention. Matt's pencil froze in mid-air; John's mouth fell open.
"No," Matt said, eyes narrowing. "You didn't."
I smirked, slicing open the box and pulling out a thick, crisp stack of pages bound in black, stamped in white.
"I did," I said. "Gentlemen, this is the script for the next Star Wars movie."
A beat of stunned silence followed.
Then somewhere between a squeal and a gasp both of them erupted.
"No. Fucking. Way," John shouted, lunging off the couch.
"Who wants to read it first?" I teased, lifting the script just out of reach.
"Oh my God," Matt whispered, practically vibrating. "Is this even legal?"
"No," I replied, grinning broadly. "Let's see what Disney's up to, shall we?"