New Chapters on 26/09/2025
Its been a busy month so less chapters.
.
.
Three months had passed since the Weinstein exposé dropped, and nothing had been the same. In my previous life, it was just background noise, another news headline flashing across a screen while I worked through a soul-crushing desk job, trying not to get fired.
But now, thirteen years into redoing my life from the ground up and becoming one of the biggest producers and power players in Hollywood, it felt different. Immediate. Tangible. Like lightning cracking just overhead instead of far off.
And the lightning kept striking.
In the days after the first article broke, Harvey was fired from his company. Half the industry pretended to be shocked some were, but many weren't. The more telling reactions were behind closed doors, some asking the question:
"Will it stop there?"
They were wondering if they were next.
A new word entered every conversation in the studios and other entertainment companies every meeting, every memo:
"Liability."
That word reached Midas too, naturally. The difference? We were already ahead. While others were rushing through emergency background checks and vetting long-time collaborators, I had a head start. I didn't have to do much. I'd made sure Midas was clean and well run. There were no liabilities here.
I also wasn't naïve. Just because we were clean didn't mean we couldn't be caught in someone else's blast radius. I made sure we didn't get caught up in that storm, either.
And what a storm it was.
Actresses and Actors came forward. Some names I remembered, and more than I remembered a lot more. Maybe it was memory playing tricks, but the wave felt bigger than it had the first time.
Studios were ordering full sweeps of producers, directors, showrunners, even staffers who'd been "grandfathered in."
Agents were on edge.
Lawyers were feasting.
Publicists? In hell.
I was advised, like every other high-profile name in town, to avoid being seen in photos with certain problematic people, some of whom were once industry untouchables. Now, radioactive. It showed just how open some secrets had been all along. Everyone knew something. Now everyone was pretending they didn't.
And just when you thought the news cycle couldn't get heavier, three weeks ago the Cosby allegations dropped. So now it wasn't just Weinstein. It was Weinstein, and Cosby and names that kept coming, some genuine and some made up which was a whole separate problem altogether.
It was a complete meltdown.
Which brings me to now sitting in one of the big glass conference rooms at Midas as we listened to the mandatory sexual-harassment seminar being delivered by two corporate reps from a firm we're now paying way too much for.
"...If someone makes an offhand comment, even if they didn't mean to offend, it's still valid for a report. It's about perception, not intention," the woman at the front says.
A few heads nod.
"...The power imbalance is real," the other rep is saying now. "It's not just about overt misconduct... We all contribute to the workplace culture."
I tune out again. Not because I disagreed. But because I already agreed.
After the seminar ended, I walked with Paul toward my office.
"I think there'll be only about a month's delay with John Wick 2," Paul said, checking his phone as we walked.
I nodded, unsurprised. "We already expected that."
And we had. I'd anticipated delays because I was one of the few who knew what was coming with Weinstein, and I'd adjusted accordingly.
Paul smiled slyly. "Yeah, it's almost like you knew all this was going to happen."
I gave a half shrug. "You hear things, Paul. Best not to think about it too much."
He didn't press, just nodded and switched tracks, updating me on other things.
"Birdman is progressing well," Paul said.
Ah, Birdman, the longest pre-production in the company so far. Margot was in New Zealand shooting Z for Zachariah and wouldn't be back for another week; most of her pre-production work would happen after that. Iñárritu's insistence on practically rehearsing each shot before filming was time-consuming and expensive, but I knew the finished project would be worth it.
I was hoping Margot would get an Oscar for this if she brought her A game. This could be the role that makes her be seen as a serious actress.
Paul then updated me on The Thing, which had finally wrapped and was now in post. We might need some extra shoots up north once winter hits, but the movie was essentially done, and in a year it would be released. The Thing was my return to horror and was heavily hyped even now a year from release so the movie was expected to do very well according to very very early projections.
Speaking of horror, there was another horror movie coming out next month that I was involved in: IT. I'd bought the rights from Stephen King years ago, and Sam, the head of Stardust Studios, had begun production immediately. That was the extent of my involvement other than suggesting Skarsgård for the role of IT. The movie fell into production hell for a while until Sam pulled it out and finally finished it. It's set to come out next month.
"So," Paul said as we neared my office, "this John Wick spin-off how about we move forward before the third?"
I didn't hesitate. "Yeah. We need to strike while the iron's hot."
Paul nodded and then paused. "Oh, I almost forgot. What about Ms. Gerwig?"
Ah, yes—Greta Gerwig.
Scarlett had become friends with her on a project they worked on last year. She was the one who recommended me to Greta to produce a movie whose script she'd been writing for years. I was immediately on board. You'd have to be insane not to be.
Lady Bird was an Oscar-nominated film; maybe it would win some this time around who knows. I also wanted a working relationship with Greta. It'd be the sort of investment that paid off for a long time.
"Make sure it gets done, Paul. I want us to do this movie," I said to Paul.
He nodded, then added, "We'll be stretching the budget a bit with that one."
I waved a hand. "We're doing quite well, Paul. Considering what our next two films are projected to make, we can afford it..and more."
We parted in the hall, him disappearing into the elevator and I turned into my office.
Graves was already there, standing by my desk with my phone in hand.
"You had five calls."
"Anyone important?" I asked.
Graves tilted her head. "Mr. Morgan called twice."
That made me stop.
"Oh," I said. "Henry."
Henry Morgan. Not someone I'd spoken to in a while. It had been, what, four months since we last talked? He'd called then to congratulate me on the Oscar win. Before that, we'd met in person at WrestleMania 30 the year before.
I immediately dialed him back.
Henry Morgan was a lot of things—billionaire oil magnate, part owner of Stardust. But for me, he was the man who backed me when it mattered. His money and his connections helped Chris and me secure Stardust. That funding made the Nebula merger possible. That merger led to DC Studios. DC Studios led to the DCU, and so on.
There's a straight line from Henry Morgan to this office I'm sitting in.
The call rang twice before he picked up.
"Danny," Henry said, his Texas drawl sliding through the speaker.
"Henry," I said, matching his energy with a grin. "Been a while."
"Where you been, kid?"
"Been busy…old man…very busy. If you haven't noticed, Hollywood's kind of on fire right now."
"Oh, I see that," he chuckled. "So all the skeletons are finally coming out."
"Something like that."
"Well, I hope our assets aren't affected."
I shook my head. "Don't worry. We've been ahead of the curve."
"Good. Now, to why I called." His voice shifted slightly still relaxed, but sharper. "This is important. I've got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you."
That got my attention. "Alright. If it's coming from Henry Morgan, it has to be big."
"Oh, it's big, alright. Only fellow billionaires like us can even afford to have this conversation."
I laughed. "Still getting used to being called that, you know."
It was true. I was worth nearly three billion now, a number so staggering, so far from the life I'd once lived, it still didn't feel entirely real. Henry, of course, was worth more than triple that.
"Well, get used to it," Henry said with a laugh. "'Cause there's no use sitting on all that money. Now listen carefully."
"I'm all ears."
"I've owned a small percentage of the Golden State Warriors for a while now...," he began.
I cut in. "Don't you own part of the Mavericks, too?"
"Yeah, I do," he replied, not missing a beat. "...don't interrupt."
"Okay, okay," I said, laughing. "Continue."
Henry paused for a beat. "I've got a golden opportunity for you," he said, then chuckled. "No pun intended."
"Alright. Hit me."
"You know Peter Guber?" Henry asked.
"Yeah he's a producer."
"Yes, and also one of the major owners of the Warriors. Guber's got some liquidity issues. Nothing public yet, but he needs to divest quietly. He's looking to offload his thirty-five percent stake in the team."
I sat up a little straighter. "Okay... where do I come in?"
"Well, Danny, we do it together," Henry said. "We both buy his stake. You put in, say, two hundred million or more I'll cover the rest. My wallet's bigger, but yours is no slouch."
"Two hundred million?" I nearly choked.
"Yeah," Henry said casually. "You can do that easy."
"That's a lot of money, Henry."
"It's chump change for you and me," he said, not missing a beat. "What are you worth now three billion? Four?"
"Nearing three," I said. "But still, two hundred million isn't nothing."
"Listen," Henry continued, his tone turning serious. "This is a good investment, Daniel. The team's on the rise. You and I have a lot to gain."
"I don't even watch basketball that much."
Henry laughed. "Like I do."
I let the silence stretch, weighing it.
"Just take some time," he said. "Talk to your financial advisors. Sleep on it. Then get back to me."
"Sure," I said finally. "I'll think about it."
"Good," Henry said, satisfied. "Now I'll see you next month. It's my granddaughter's birthday. We're throwing something big at the house."
"I wouldn't miss it."
"You better not," he chuckled, and the call ended.
I slipped the phone into my pocket. Sports-team ownership. That wasn't something I had planned.
I needed to talk to Carter. Run the numbers and see if i could do it.
=====
I went back to my desk, looking through the casting notes for The Usual Suspects. The movie was delayed scheduling issues, talent availability, and honestly there was no rush. It deserved more time, maybe a year or more.
I buried myself in work until I was interrupted by a meeting.
"She's here," Graves said as she opened the door.
"Send her in."
The door opened and in walked a young woman blonde hair, sharp features, a confident stride. She was a year or two younger than me. I stood.
"Cassandra, yes?"
"Yes, Danie— I mean, Mr. Adler," she corrected herself, flashing a wide smile.
I gestured to the chair in front of my desk. "Sit, please."
She did. I followed suit.
"I heard about your grandfather," I said. "Hope is doing alright..he did tell me he had some issue with his heart"
Her smile faltered for a second, her expression softening. "Yes… his heart. It was scary. But he's doing better now."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, sincerely. "That must've been tough. He told me you two were close."
She nodded.
"Well, I've heard good things about you Cassandra. Serena's been singing your praises—you helped update our casting process which has been a great help…. But… let me ask: how have you been liking it here? Mr.Lester did send me his favorite granddaughter to learn, after all."
Cassandra straightened a little, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been… great. I've been learning a lot. Though I really hope to get more involved on the filming side that's where I want to be long-term."
"You know," she added, "since you're going to be directing, Mr. Adler, and I've been working on the casting for it, I thought maybe I could be a part of it… with you…"
"Oh… sure, we can work something out," I said, nodding. "But let's talk about why I called you in."
She shifted in her seat, eyes suddenly sharp, attentive. There was an intensity there, not nervousness. I couldn't quite place it, but the way she held my gaze half a second too long, too direct made me pause.
Lester did mention she was a big fan of mine, maybe it was that.
"I know your father works for Fox," I said, leaning back in my chair. "And with the merger, I heard he'll be transitioning to Disney?"
Cassandra nodded.
"Well, I've been invited to a private dinner during D23 next week. There'll be some key executives from Disney and Fox there. I wanted to speak with your father, maybe have him introduce me to a few people."
Before I could finish, she jumped in, voice bright, almost excited. "Oh I'll be there as well."
She smiled. "I always go with him to those things. Kind of our thing."
"Oh," I said, nodding. "That makes things easier."
Cassandra leaned forward a bit. "Will Margot be coming with you as well?"
I shook my head. "No, sadly. She's still in New Zealand finishing a movie."
Her smile widened just a touch. "Well then… maybe we could go together?"
"Didnt you say you go with you dad"
"I am sure he won't mind showing my boss around"
There was a beat of silence. I tilted my head slightly. "I'll think about it, Cassandra."
She beamed. "Can't wait. …It's a date!"
Wait—what?
Before I could respond, she stood quickly. "I should get back—Serena wanted me to…"
"Of course," I said. "Don't let me keep you."
She turned and walked out. I watched her go, brow faintly furrowed. She was a bit odd, but seemed decent. For a nepo hire the daughter and granddaughter of very powerful execs she was good at her job and looked very passionate about the industry.
It needed more people like her.
.
.
This is a bonus chapter, a Big Bang Theory crossover, not canon to the story. The timeline is set when The Flash movie was in production so about a year before chapter 236.
.
The Adler Hypothesis pt.1
Leonard, Raj, Sheldon, and Howard were gathered in Sheldon and Leonard's apartment, preparing to leave for a comic convention. Howard sat on the couch, flipping through a meticulously bagged and boarded collection of Invincible comics.
"So, Daniel Adler is finally making a signing appearance," Howard said, carefully pulling out an issue and inspecting it. "About time."
"Yes," Sheldon interjected without looking up from his own collection spread out across the coffee table. "But Adler is forgiven for his lack of public appearances due to his obvious contributions to modern cinema and for bringing back DC movies."
Raj, perched on the arm of the couch, clapped his hands together. "Oh my God, that Batman trailer was amazing."
"Well, Adler is a genius," Leonard added, rummaging through his convention bag to make sure everything was in place.
"Let's hope he ends up writing for some DC comics too," Raj said.
"Agreed," Sheldon said with a dismissive wave, still focused on his task. "But that is not the issue at hand. I am in a quandary. I cannot decide which issue of Invincible to have Adler sign—Issue #1, which is the logical choice as it marks the inception of the series, or Issue #30, which is the most recent issue and represents a significant narrative turning point."
Howard groaned. "Oh no, here we go."
"Let me outline the pros and cons," Sheldon said, holding up both issues like a lawyer presenting evidence to a jury. "Issue #1 is a collector's item, with significant monetary and sentimental value. However, it is already signed by artist Matt Gates, and I fear there is no room to add another signature."
"Sheldon," Leonard said, his voice already tinged with exasperation, "just pick one and be done with it. We're going to be late."
"I can't decide under duress, Leonard," Sheldon replied, his tone sharp. "Now, Issue #30. Pros: It's the newest issue and marks a turning point for the story. Cons: It lacks the prestige of being the series' inaugural issue."
"Why don't you just flip a coin?" Raj suggested, though his voice lacked conviction. He knew better than to believe such a simple solution would sway Sheldon.
"Preposterous," Sheldon said. "The fate of this decision cannot be left to chance. No, I shall simply bring both." He smiled, satisfied with his own ingenuity. "This way, Adler will have the opportunity to decide which is more worthy of his signature."
Howard rolled his eyes and stuffed another issue into his bag. "Ah, of course, because nothing makes a celebrity's day like being asked to weigh in on a random fan's problems."
Leonard looked at Sheldon. "Sheldon, promise me you'll behave this time. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time."
"I behaved perfectly last time," Sheldon replied, his voice indignant.
Howard snorted. "Yeah, because nothing says 'fan appreciation' like being told your work is wrong."
Sheldon shot him a withering look. "My only goal today is to acquire Daniel Adler's signature. Nothing more, nothing less." He paused, his lips twitching slightly.
Leonard immediately caught on, narrowing his eyes. "Okay, Sheldon. I know that look. What's going on? What are you planning?"
Sheldon straightened his posture. "If you must know, I do have a higher purpose for meeting Mr. Adler."
The group collectively groaned.
"Oh boy," Raj muttered, shaking his head.
"All right, Sheldon, I'll bite," Leonard said, bracing himself. "What's your 'higher purpose'?"
Sheldon put down the comic in his hands, his tone becoming even more self-important. "As you're all undoubtedly aware, there's a persistent rumor circulating on the internet—thanks to a highly reputable forum post on Comic Geek Nexus—that Daniel Adler intends to feature Wally West as the primary Flash in his upcoming DC movies."
The group looked at each other in silence for a moment before Raj asked, "And that's a bad thing because…?"
Sheldon gasped. "Because, Rajesh, Wally West is not the definitive Flash. Barry Allen is the quintessential Scarlet Speedster. Wally is merely a derivative character, created as a sidekick and then forced to take the mantle under dubious circumstances."
"My plan is simple. I will reason with Daniel Adler and convince him to rethink this catastrophic decision. I've already prepared a bullet-pointed list of arguments, complete with references to the seminal comic arcs that prove Barry Allen's superiority."
Leonard rubbed his temples. "Sheldon, no. Just get your comics signed and leave. He's not going to change his supposed plan because you want Barry Allen instead of Wally West."
"Nonsense," Sheldon retorted. "My argument will be so persuasive that he'll be forced to acknowledge the error of his ways."
"I'm calling it now—we're getting kicked out," Raj said, glancing at Sheldon.
"Highly unlikely," Sheldon replied. "I've crafted a plan so foolproof that it guarantees success. Daniel Adler will listen to reason."
Leonard sighed. "Sheldon, please don't do this. Adler probably knows more about the Flash than—"
"And that's where you're wrong, Leonard," Sheldon interrupted. "Adler may be an accomplished writer, but I am the foremost authority on all things Flash-related. Did you know I've written three unpublished essays on the subject? One of them details the inherent superiority of Barry Allen's characterization compared to the morally ambiguous arc of Wally West."
Howard laughed. "Sheldon, for the love of Krypton, don't do this. Please. We're finally going to meet this guy. Don't ruin it by…well, being you."
Sheldon looked indignant. "I assure you, I will behave with the utmost decorum. However, the future of DC movies is at stake. Imagine a world where Flash fans are subjected to subpar storytelling because Wally West was chosen over Barry Allen. I am merely a voice for the voiceless."
Leonard buried his face in his hands. "Let's just go. We're already late."
As they all walked out of the apartment, Sheldon suddenly stopped and spun around. "I forgot something. Wait here."
"What is it now?" Leonard muttered, exasperated.
A few moments later, Sheldon emerged from the apartment carrying a massive folder.
Leonard stared in disbelief. "Sheldon…what is that?"
Sheldon patted the folder as if it were a beloved pet. "This, Leonard, is my comprehensive set of notes on the Flash and my suggestions for the future of the DC movies. I intend to present it to Mr. Adler."
Howard's jaw dropped. "Do you know how crazy this looks?"
"It looks like a document of great importance," Sheldon said. "Adler will undoubtedly appreciate the level of effort I've put into ensuring DC's success."
Raj shook his head, muttering, "Yeah, we're definitely getting kicked out."
====
The group shuffled forward in the line, now about halfway to the table where Daniel Adler sat, signing comics with a polite but clearly tired smile. Sheldon glanced at his watch and announced, "We've been standing here for precisely 47 minutes and 26 seconds. Isn't this exhilarating?"
Howard groaned. "We should be done by now."
Leonard shot Sheldon a look. "We would be done by now if someone hadn't dropped their so-called 'documents of great importance' and made us pick them all up."
Sheldon adjusted his folder with a hint of pride. "Because I hold in my hand—"
"Yes, yes, the 'Save Flash Manifesto,' we get it," Raj interrupted, rolling his eyes.
Leonard sighed deeply. "Sheldon, please, I'm begging you. When we get up there, just get your stuff signed and leave. Don't… do whatever it is you're planning."
"Sheldon," Howard added, "I read somewhere that Adler isn't even thinking about The Flash right now. He's focused on the big three."
Sheldon's eyes widened, horrified. "That's even worse."
They moved closer to the front, the table now in clear view. Daniel sat behind it, signing a steady stream of comics, posters, and memorabilia. His expression was polite but weary, and his attention occasionally drifted to the massive line still snaking through the convention hall.
Finally, it was Sheldon's turn. He stepped forward with his folder in one hand and two comics in the other.
Daniel looked up, his eyes briefly narrowing in curiosity as he spotted the stack of papers Sheldon was carrying. "Hello," Daniel said, his tone polite. "I hope you're not expecting me to sign all that."
"Oh, no, no," Sheldon replied earnestly, handing over two copies of Invincible. "Only these."
"Ah, good," Daniel said, taking the comics. "And what's your name?"
"Dr. Sheldon Cooper," Sheldon declared.
Daniel paused, raising an eyebrow. "A doctor, huh?"
"No, not that kind of doctor," Sheldon clarified. "I'm a theoretical physicist with two doctorates and a primary focus on string theory. My research encompasses M-theory and the holographic principle, aiming to understand the fundamental nature of the universe itself."
Daniel blinked, visibly trying to process the explanation. "Ah, I see." He chuckled nervously.
Howard, Raj, and Leonard exchanged looks of growing alarm. Leonard nudged Sheldon lightly.
But Sheldon held his ground, gripping his folder tightly. "Actually, Mr. Adler, while I have your attention—"
"Sheldon!" Leonard hissed, trying to push him aside.
Daniel finished signing the comics and handed them back to Sheldon.
"Sheldon, move!" Raj whispered.
"Gentlemen, please," Sheldon said, waving them off. "I need only a moment of Mr. Adler's time."
"If I may," Sheldon began, his tone serious and his posture upright, "there's another matter of grave importance I need to discuss with you."
Daniel, already weary from the day, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"
Sheldon leaned in slightly. "I've heard credible rumors that you're planning to use Wally West as The Flash in your upcoming DC films."
Daniel blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… honestly, I haven't even thought about The Flash yet. We're still in the early stages."
Sheldon's eyes widened in horror. "You haven't thought about The Flash? Sir, I cannot overstate the significance of this oversight. The Flash is not just a character; he is the linchpin of the Justice League, the personification of hope."
Daniel glanced around awkwardly as the line behind Sheldon grew restless. Leonard buried his face in his hands while Howard said, "We're not with him."
"I get it," Daniel said diplomatically. "But we're still figuring things out. Maybe support Batman Begins first, you know, to show the studio that DC superhero films are still viable."
"Sheldon, maybe we should let Mr. Adler get back to signing. Look at the line behind us," Leonard urged, tugging at Sheldon's sleeve.
Howard added, "Yeah, people are starting to look like they want to throttle you. Let's go."
"No!" Sheldon exclaimed, standing firm. "This must be said! Mr. Adler, imagine if you chose Wally West over Barry Allen—an act akin to choosing New Coke over Classic Coke, or Jar Jar Binks over Yoda."
Daniel rubbed his temples, clearly exasperated but trying to remain calm. "Dr. Cooper, I get it. You're a Barry Allen fan. But you're holding up the line. We can talk about this another time, alright?"
As Sheldon opened his mouth to respond, a security guard approached, sensing the commotion. "Is there a problem here?" the guard asked.
"No, no," Daniel said quickly, attempting to smooth things over.
"Yes, there is!" Sheldon countered, thrusting the folder of papers into Daniel's hands. "This document contains my detailed notes on why Barry Allen must remain The Flash."
Daniel hesitated before reluctantly taking the folder. "Sure."
"Are you not going to read it now?" Sheldon asked.
Daniel sighed deeply as the people in the line behind him began groaning loudly.
Someone shouted, "Get him out of here!"
The security guard looked to Daniel for confirmation. Daniel gave a small nod, his exhaustion evident. "Sir," the guard said to Sheldon, "you're going to need to leave."
As Sheldon was escorted away, Leonard, Raj, and Howard had to follow, since the people behind them told security that they were with Sheldon as well—their protests drowned out by jeers from the line.
Sheldon, undeterred, called back to Daniel, "Read the document! Read the document!"
"That guy's a scientist?" Daniel muttered before shaking his head and returning to his signing.
As the next fan approached, Daniel smiled tiredly. "Sorry about that. What's your name?"
.
.
Daniel POV
"So, what are we watching?" Margot asked as she settled on the couch next to me, cradling a bowl of popcorn in her lap.
I walked up to her with a grin. "Well, I promised you a 'bad' movie night," I said, pulling out two DVD cases I'd been hiding behind my back.
Margot squinted at them, taking one from my hand. "Serial Ape-ist?" She read aloud.
"Yep," I said, plopping down beside her. "This is supposed to be one of the worst movies ever made."
Margot turned the case over to read the description. "'When Science Goes Bananas—a mad scientist's genetic experiment goes horribly wrong, unleashing a sex-crazed, bloodthirsty gorilla on a rampage through the city.'" She burst out laughing. "This is real?"
"As real as bad movies get," I said, passing her the DVD. "Fun fact: the second one was directed by Wil Wheaton. He's the one who recommended it to me."
Margot grinned. "Let's watch it."
As the movie began, we found ourselves laughing at the ridiculous dialogue, cringe-worthy special effects, and questionable acting. The gorilla costume looked like it had been stolen from a Halloween store clearance bin, and the actors delivered their lines with all the conviction of people reading a grocery list.
The movie reached a scene where a half-naked hot blonde was attacked by the ape while bathing.
"She's hot," I said between bites of popcorn.
Margot playfully smacked me on the arm. "Behave!" she said, laughing.
She tilted her head, her giggles subsiding as she seemed to remember something. "Oh my God. This reminds me of something."
I looked at her, still laughing. "What? You've been attacked by a guy in a gorilla suit before?"
Margot chuckled. "No, but the day I arrived in LA, this random guy approached me on the street and said, 'You'd be perfect for my movie.'" She made air quotes with her fingers.
I raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"The way he described it sounded like porn, so I got the hell out of there," she said.
"I think it was for this movie. It all makes sense now."
I turned to her, trying to keep a straight face. "You mean to tell me you missed out on starring in the cinematic masterpiece Serial Ape-ist?"
Margot laughed even harder, tossing a piece of popcorn at me. "Oh, woe is me! What a missed opportunity for my career."
Soon the first movie came to an end, and Margot was very eager to start the second one.
"I think the girl makes a return in the second movie," I said as the credits for Serial Ape-ist rolled across the screen.
As the sequel played, it turned out the girl from the first movie not only returned but had inexplicably become part-ape herself. The sequel was somehow just as bad—if not worse—than the first one.
By the time the second movie ended, Margot stretched out on the couch, shaking her head. "That was… great. I rate it a negative two."
I grinned. "Wow, high praise."
Margot had a rating system for bad movies, and negative two was considered very high praise from her.
I chuckled. "Well, you'll love this—did you know Vince Gilligan wrote the second one?"
Margot gasped, nearly spilling her drink. "What?!"
"Yep." I nodded with a smirk.
Margot's jaw dropped. "Vince Gilligan? …Breaking Bad?"
"That's the one," I confirmed.
"How?" she asked, her voice dripping with disbelief.
"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure Wil Wheaton has something on him," I said, laughing.
Margot stared at me, still processing. "Breaking Bad and Serial Ape-ist 2."
"Hey," I teased. "If you want, I can probably get you a role in the third one. Just say the word."
Before I could react, she grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me. It hit me square in the chest, and I scrambled off the couch, laughing.
"It could be a career highlight," I said, dodging another pillow she threw my way as I ran from her.
"You better run!" Margot called after me, laughing as she chased me around the apartment.
=====
A Week Later
I took a sip of the drink Joe called the Fey Special. It was one of his latest concoctions, inspired by D&D—sweet, yet surprisingly potent. Joe had a habit of making drinks based on fantasy and other sci-fi.
We were gathered for our bi-monthly game. As I surveyed the room, I saw Wil Wheaton walking toward me, holding a drink of his own.
"Hey, Wil," I said, raising my glass slightly. "My girlfriend loved your movie."
Wil's face lit up for a moment. "She did?"
"Yeah," I said with a grin. "She loves bad movies."
Wil's face fell slightly. "Oh."
I laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "Come on, Wil, don't take it like that. You made a movie that's rare—one of those 'so bad it's good' gems. That's an achievement in itself."
Wil shrugged, a small smile forming. "I guess I can live with that."
"By the way," I said, "Margot actually wants a signed copy of the movie. Any idea where the actress is these days? What was her name again… Penelope?"
Wil nodded. "Yeah, Penny. Funny you ask… the new guy I invited to the game? She's his girlfriend."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, well, that makes things easy."
Wil glanced over my shoulder. "Speaking of which, there he is."
I turned around, my eyes landing on a short, spectacled man who looked familiar. His face turned sheepish as soon as he saw me, clearly embarrassed.
"Wait a minute," I muttered, narrowing my eyes.
"I know you," I said, pointing at him.
.
.