AN: I'm back from break. You'll get 5 chs this week. So, time to rank up, if that's still possible after this long break. 😬😬
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[Walt Disney Headquarters]
The mood inside Disney's executive conference room felt different from the way it had a year earlier, and everyone around the table understood why.
Beyond the wide windows overlooking the Burbank lot, the entertainment industry kept moving as if the world had only hit a rough patch. Crews crossed the studio grounds. Golf carts rolled between soundstages. Assistants hurried from building to building with folders tucked under their arms.
Inside boardrooms across America, though, the mood had changed completely. The Great Recession had arrived, markets were unstable, major corporations were cutting expenses, and investors were watching every large decision with fresh anxiety. Nothing felt routine anymore. Every move had to be defended, measured, and justified before anyone dared to make it.
Bob Iger sat at the head of the conference table with several reports spread in front of him. Over the past few months, different departments had assembled box office data, licensing projections, publishing numbers, consumer trends, and financial forecasts. Taken separately, each report told part of the story. Together, they pointed toward the same uncomfortable conclusion.
Disney needed to think carefully about where its future growth would come from.
Around Bob sat some of the company's most influential executives.
Dick Cook, Chairman of The Walt Disney Studios, oversaw worldwide production, marketing, and distribution.
Oren Aviv, President of Production for Walt Disney Pictures, managed live-action development.
John Lasseter, Chief Creative Officer of Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios, represented the company's creative leadership.
Ed Catmull, President of Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios, handled the operational side of the animation divisions.
Alan Bergman, President of The Walt Disney Studios, managed financial operations and long-term planning.
Mark Zoradi, President of Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures Group, oversaw theatrical marketing and distribution strategy.
Thomas Staggs, Disney's Chief Financial Officer, carried the unpleasant job of guiding the company through one of the worst economic downturns in decades.
The discussion had already moved through several major topics before settling on the issue that had pulled most of the attention in the room.
Bob closed one of the reports and looked around the table. "We've spent years strengthening Disney's position in family entertainment, and that foundation is still one of the strongest in the world."
No one disagreed with him. Disney remained a global powerhouse across animation, theme parks, television, consumer products, and family films. The brand still carried enormous trust with parents and children, which was the kind of advantage most companies spent decades trying to build.
The problem was that the market around them had begun to shift.
Dick Cook rested his arms on the table, his expression thoughtful. "Audiences are getting older, and the older kids aren't always following us the way they used to."
Mark Zoradi nodded as he glanced at the box office numbers. "They're also spending their money differently. The family audience is still important, but teenagers and young adults are driving more of the conversation than they were before."
Bob tapped the page in front of him, where one title sat above almost everything else.
Spider-Man.
The live-action adaptation had become one of Hollywood's biggest success stories. It had generated enormous box office revenue, pushed merchandise sales through the roof, and strengthened interest in the animated series and comic line. More important, it had changed how studios talked about a genre they had spent years misunderstanding.
Superheroes were no longer being treated as a small niche for comic fans.
Bob leaned back in his chair and studied the faces around him. "Five years ago, most studios still treated superheroes like a risky corner of the market."
Oren Aviv gave a faint smile. "Nobody around town is talking that way anymore."
A few quiet laughs moved through the room, mostly because the statement was too obvious to argue with. Spider-Man had changed the conversation. Children loved the character, teenagers related to him, and adults had shown up in huge numbers. The appeal had crossed age groups in a way Hollywood rarely saw.
Alan Bergman opened another report and turned it so the others could see the projection sheet. "The success of Spider-Man matters, but the bigger question is what comes after it."
The monitor at the end of the room shifted to a list of familiar names from DC and Marvel: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, X-Men, Fantastic Four, The Avengers, Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, Spider-Man, Hulk and many others.
More names continued down the screen, enough that the room fell into a thoughtful silence. Everyone understood what they were really looking at. It was potential, organized into columns and revenue models.
John Lasseter studied the list with quiet fascination. "Alex created something unusual here."
Bob nodded once. "That feels like a polite way to describe it."
John leaned forward and tapped a finger lightly against the table. "Most creators spend their whole lives trying to build one character that lasts. Alex built entire worlds and somehow made them feel connected."
Nobody pushed back on that. Under Alex's control, Marvel and DC had grown into publishing giants. Millions of readers followed those characters every month, and the stories had expanded across years of continuity, crossovers, reinventions, and fan loyalty. The material was already proven in print, and only a small fraction of it had been adapted for film or animation.
Oren shifted in his chair, the energy in his voice picking up. "That's the reason we're having this discussion. If Spider-Man can generate this kind of response, imagine what happens when someone starts adapting the rest of that library with real studio support behind it."
The implication settled over the table, because everyone knew who that someone would likely be.
Alex Wilson.
The young studio head had already shown an almost absurd ability to spot trends before the rest of Hollywood understood them. Titan's record spoke for itself across film, publishing, animation, and television. Every division seemed to be expanding, and every year brought another success that made the industry revise its expectations of him.
Thomas Staggs had been quiet for most of the discussion, but when he finally spoke, the room gave him its full attention. "The timing is what concerns me."
Bob turned toward him. "Walk us through it."
Thomas glanced at the list of heroes on the screen, then looked back at the reports. "The intellectual property is valuable. Extremely valuable. I don't think anyone here doubts that. Still, we're in the middle of a financial crisis, and any major acquisition would have to be examined from every possible angle."
That point landed heavily because it was true. Disney was healthier than many companies, but even Disney had to respect the economy. Credit markets were strained, consumer confidence had weakened, and the company could not afford to look careless.
Thomas continued, "We also need to be clear about what we would actually be pursuing. This would not be the same as buying a successful movie franchise. Spider-Man proved that the concept works on film, but the larger value sits in everything around him."
Alan Bergman nodded slowly. "Years of stories, hundreds of characters, and entire fictional universes that can feed film, television, animation, games, and consumer products for years."
Dick Cook looked back at the monitor. "And Alex owns all of it."
The room went quiet again.
That was the uncomfortable truth behind every projection. Marvel was not sitting there as a separate company waiting to be approached. DC was not on its own either. Both lived under Titan's umbrella, which meant any serious conversation about either library led back to the same person.
Alex Wilson.
Mark Zoradi let out a small breath and leaned back in his chair. "That creates another problem, because he is not exactly a traditional owner."
A few smiles appeared around the room. As descriptions went, it was gentle.
Mark continued, warming to the point. "Most people build a company and eventually start thinking about an exit. Alex seems to build one company, make it successful, then use that momentum to launch another division before anyone can catch up."
That earned a few quiet laughs, and even Thomas allowed himself a small smile. No one could deny the pattern. Every time the industry expected Alex to slow down, he announced another project, another franchise, another studio expansion, or another long-term plan that made everyone else look behind schedule.
John Lasseter watched the names on the screen as if he were studying a storyboard. "I don't think money would be the biggest obstacle."
Dick looked toward him. "Then what would be?"
John answered without hesitation. "Pride would probably be the hardest part."
The laughter faded, and the room took that seriously.
John continued, his voice quieter now. "He created those worlds himself. Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, the Avengers, all of them came from his imagination. People don't usually sell something that personal just because the price is attractive. And let's not forget, he's the richest man alive in the world. So, he doesn't need money."
Viewed that way, the list on the monitor became almost strange. One creator. Two massive superhero universes. Hundreds of recognizable characters. Thousands of stories that had already shaped a generation of readers.
Bob stared at the reports for several seconds, weighing the numbers against the reality of the person behind them. Strategically, the opportunity was obvious. Disney lacked a major superhero presence, and Titan owned the strongest superhero library in the world. Practically, the path looked much harder.
At last, Bob closed the folder in front of him and rested his hands on top of it. "So we agree on the important part. The superhero genre is not fading away. If anything, Spider-Man may have opened the door to something much bigger."
Several executives nodded.
Bob's expression softened with a small, dry smile. "The real question is whether Alex Wilson would ever let anyone else play with his toys."
Dick Cook laughed first, which broke some of the tension around the table. "I'd love to say Good luck with that, but we've got to try atleast. Even if we don't get the IP, we can still offer to produce or marketing. And considering he's focusing on DC at the moment, it might just be our chance to collab with him to take the pressure of juggling everything all by himself. He's just one man after all. As for money and richest man alive... Alex Wilson is a businessman first, richest man alive later. We gotta come up with a price he can't refuse. If that fails, we can try the collab."
Acquiring Marvel could become one of the most valuable moves Disney ever made. Convincing Alex Wilson to sell them would be a completely different challenge. But a collab will end up opening a friendly relationship with Hollywood's Golden Boy/World's richest man.Â
"Alright," Bob nodded after thinking for a bit. "You're up, Dick. Bring us the good news."
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