"Boss, the new issue of Ultimate Spider-Man isn't here yet? I couldn't find it on the shelf."
"Oh, the new Ultimate Spider-Man hasn't arrived yet. It's a special issue this time. Marvel decided to tie it in with the movie Spider-Man 2, so they pushed the release to next month."
"What? Seriously? Alright, thanks…"
"No problem. You only like Spider-Man? We've got Superman, Batman…"
"Oh, I'm only into Marvel."
"What about Hulk, Blade, Fantastic Four?"
"I've already bought their latest issues."
"I see. Then I probably can't help you much. Sorry… see you next time?"
"Yeah, see you."
New York.
Brooklyn.
Twenty-six-year-old Karen Hawkins walked out of a comic book store.
He was a comic nerd—always had been. His favorite character: Marvel's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
He never really figured out why, but maybe it had something to do with Peter Parker being a student. When he was a teenager, meeting a teenage superhero who could do everything made him want to be the same. That desire was huge.
Of course, it was also fantasy.
Because superheroes don't exist in the real world.
Not that it mattered. Reality's limits didn't stop him from loving the fictional. Even as an adult, he still chased that same old joy. If anything, now that he earned his own money, he could splurge on more comics, more merch, more movies. He'd seen Sony's Spider-Man in theaters at least seven times.
To him, Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker was perfection.
Tobey was Spider-Man.
Sure, there were flaws—Tobey's Spidey didn't quip enough—but even so, the film's production quality made him squeal with excitement.
Before Spider-Man, most comic book movies were cheap B-movies. Even if Blade or Batman did well at the box office, their production still looked rough. But Spider-Man—that was the real deal.
That's when Karen thought: maybe Hollywood was finally taking superhero movies seriously.
So he embraced every comic adaptation that came after Spider-Man with hope.
Then reality slapped him. Hard.
Ben Affleck's Daredevil? Utter nonsense.
Ang Lee's Hulk? Zero fun.
Travolta's The Punisher? Hot garbage.
Only X-Men 2 was somewhat decent—and that was just because of the cat-licking-its-paw scene.
"Ughhh…"
Thinking about how Spider-Man had opened the door for A-list comic movies, only for greedy studios to slam it shut again, Karen sighed heavily.
"So damn exhausting… these profit-chasing capitalists are disgusting!"
He spotted an empty Coke can by the sidewalk and kicked it—hard.
Clang! The can flew far, maybe along with his frustration. Or maybe it was because the can just happened to land in a trash bin.
That made Karen smile again.
"Well, no matter how disgusting those capitalists are, comic movies still have a chance!"
"Because Spider-Man is getting a trilogy!"
"Because Constantine hired Chris Columbus!"
Yes—even though the comic adaptation scene was a dump, Karen still had hope for the future.
Not just because Spider-Man was getting three films and would probably only get better—Hollywood greed ensures effort when money's on the line—but because earlier that year, in January, the studio Constantine announced it had signed a deal with director Chris Columbus to make Fantastic Four.
Sure, Constantine wasn't exactly powerhouse material (Resident Evil was… mediocre), but Chris Columbus was a legend! Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets were incredibly faithful to the books! With him overseeing Fantastic Four, it couldn't possibly go too wrong. Even if he wasn't directing because of his HP schedule!
Lost in thoughts of a glorious comic-movie future, Karen ducked into a Subway.
He ordered a black pepper thick-cut steak sandwich and a cup of juice, then headed back to the office.
He was the top sales agent at a real estate company.
No performance pressure meant he could take long lunches, stroll the streets, and relax. His coworkers? They just ordered Domino's and kept grinding for clients.
But as soon as he sat down and opened Yahoo to read some gossip while eating—
He saw a front-page headline about Fantastic Four.
The title was too catchy to ignore. He clicked.
Then frowned hard as he read—
"According to an anonymous insider, the Fantastic Four project announced earlier this year is facing major troubles…"
"There are many problems, but they can be summarized into three categories…"
"1. Constantine secretly brought in new investors without the producer's knowledge…"
"2. Constantine interfered with creative decisions, pushing for the new investors' chosen director…"
"3. Constantine's internal chaos: no casting has even started despite the producer submitting actor lists months ago…"
"A loud announcement followed by dead silence—it reeks of another doomed production…"
"Though we hate to say it, Constantine's supposed 'deal' with Chris Columbus might have been a scam. The company's reputation is already terrible. Ten years ago, they literally made a deliberately awful Fantastic Four movie just to keep the rights…"
"Here's what happened back then…"
"In 1992, Constantine realized they'd lose the Fantastic Four rights by December 31 if they didn't make a movie. So, in desperation, they wrote a script in one day, cast in two, started filming on December 28, and finished everything in 21 days…"
"The result? A garbage movie that was immediately scrapped."
"Given their history, maybe Chris Columbus was scammed this time…"
Boom.
The article wasn't even long—barely a thousand words—but it was packed with bombs.
Karen forgot to eat. His eyes went wide, face red, veins popping. Like Tom the Cat mid-meltdown.
"M–Fxxk!"
"Fxxk! Fxxk!! Fxxk!!!"
"They're a bunch of parasites! Bloodsuckers! Worthless trash!!!"
Bang bang bang!
His furious pounding nearly shook the office apart.
Every coworker froze.
"Karen, what's wrong?"
"Did a big client bail on you?"
"Wait, didn't you say you were buying comics? You didn't get one?"
Karen inhaled sharply twice, raised his hands, forced a smile.
"Sorry, everyone. My bad. Just… saw some infuriating news, that's all."
That calmed the room.
"No worries then."
Karen was the top seller—whatever he did was fine. No one pressed him further.
Still, curiosity hung in the air. "What kind of news could make you that mad, Karen?"
His face darkened.
"A bunch of bastards destroying kids' dreams over and over."
He spoke through gritted teeth.
"Ugh, that sounds sickening already."
Everyone nodded.
Exactly.
Fight poison with poison. Strike first or suffer later.
That was Warner's counterstrategy, inspired by Isa's "creative idea."
Rupert Murdoch wanted to frame Chris Columbus as someone who disrespected Marvel?
To stir up Marvel and Spider-Man fans against Columbus—and Harry Potter?
Fine.
Two can play that game.
If they wanted to play dirty, Warner would expose Constantine's past filth first.
After all, Constantine had form.
When it came to being shameless, they were as disciplined as Prussian soldiers.
So once Warner got ahead with their leaks, no one would buy Murdoch's story anymore.
When your reputation's already in the gutter, nothing you say matters.
And indeed…
The Fantastic Four exposé dropped on May 6th.
A few hours later, the North American internet lit up.
Well, maybe not exploded—more like buzzed loudly.
Fantastic Four wasn't Spider-Man, HP, or Star Wars.
Even if Warner spread the story far and wide, the public outrage couldn't match those IP giants—though Columbus's name helped.
Still, the reaction was everything Warner wanted: comment sections filled with venom for Constantine.
"Ugh, Constantine's at it again! This soulless company should just die already!"
"I heard about their scam from ten years ago—they even blamed Marvel for their own mess!"
"They claimed Marvel didn't give them enough time? Total bull—Marvel said they had eight years! Enough for Cameron to make Titanic!"
"Wasn't Roger Corman the one who shot that 1992 version? He said Constantine shorted the budget and paid him with film stock!"
"Oh my god, that's disgusting."
"Wait—Resident Evil was theirs too? No wonder it turned out like crap!"
When Murdoch saw the online backlash, he pushed his glasses up and smirked.
"Good. Barry Meyer's not an idiot."
Everything was unfolding exactly as he'd expected.
He never thought a veteran rival like Warner could be beaten that easily. Men who survive decades in business aren't the type to fall from one hit.
You don't reach the Fortune 500 by losing.
(Okay, unless you're Steve Jobs. But that guy's an exception.)
Since Warner's counterattack was anticipated, Murdoch simply turned to his assistant.
"Did we get everything back?"
"All press releases withdrawn," the assistant said.
"Excellent. Move to Plan B."
"Silence Constantine."
"Tim Story's expendable."
His calm tone sent chills down the assistant's spine.
Still, he nodded and left to carry out the orders.
First, he called Gail Berman, president of Fox Broadcasting, to restrain Constantine. Then he sent an anonymous email blast to major outlets—each carrying a pre-written article titled:
[Breaking! New Trouble on the Fantastic Four Set!]
Two thousand words long, but all built around one idea and three points.
The core:
Constantine blames all production failures on director Tim Story.
The details:
Sources say the delayed casting isn't Constantine's fault—Tim Story is simply incompetent. More "sources" claim Constantine never wanted to hire Tim Story in the first place. Still more "sources" insist Constantine was completely sincere about working with Chris Columbus—the Fantastic Four script was actually written by Columbus ten years ago.
On the surface, it looked idiotic.
Murdoch's leak seemed to help Chris Columbus's case.
But in reality…
"Holy crab—"
"Chris Columbus, that bastard, is a son of a b*tch!!"
"I want him dead!!! I want him dead!!!!"
Morning of May 7th.
When Tim Story saw the news at home, he lost his mind!
His eyes bloodshot, he flipped the dining table over!
Then he grabbed a steak knife, ready to go hunt down Chris Columbus!
Yeah, everything's got two sides.
From the public's perspective, Murdoch's assistant's press release looked like a dog barking at the moon — meaningless noise.
To them, Constantine had been exposed for deceiving the public, so he was trying to pin the blame on someone else — Columbus — to make himself look innocent.
But from Tim Story's point of view…
All of this was Columbus trying to twist the truth and shift the blame onto him!
The logic was simple:
Tim Story didn't know the real situation. He only knew that Bernard Essinger had helped him.
Essinger had told him that Chris Columbus didn't like him. Based on that, Constantine's boss Bernard Essinger was, in his eyes, a trustworthy ally.
Since Constantine was an ally, Constantine wouldn't attack him.
So, the only one who could've released a statement claiming Constantine didn't like him must be Columbus.
And that logic held perfectly — because Bernard Essinger had already badmouthed Columbus to him.
Once A and B talk trash about C, A and C can't possibly be on the same side.
Since the new "leak" could only have come from Columbus, and Columbus said there were conflicts between him and Constantine — wasn't that just a smokescreen to cover up his own role?
If everyone in the Fantastic Four project had conflicts, then no one would pay attention to Columbus's targeting of him!
So…
When Murdoch's press release dropped, Tim Story saw it as Columbus trying to vanish into the background!
And if Columbus wanted to vanish — that just meant he was admitting he hated him from the very start!
"He's targeting me!"
"He wants to replace me!!"
"He looks down on me!!!"
Once that thought hit, Tim Story immediately grabbed his phone, trembling as he dialed—
"Hello? Eric? Yeah~ it's me! Tim!"
"You're right! I really did have something to talk to you about! Have you seen the news lately? It's all that guy's tricks!"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Chris Columbus is a racist!"
"…"
After the first call ended, he dialed another—
"Regina?"
"Yeah yeah yeah—I need your help—"
"Chris Columbus is an animal! He's targeting me on purpose! He's discriminating against me!"
"Oh oh oh, I know it's hard for you to speak out, but that's fine — you can support me indirectly!"
"Okay! Okay! Okay! I think your idea's great! Thanks!"
"…"
Five minutes later, the third call came—
"Nia? Oh—you knew I'd call? My god, I love you—"
"You're right! We've got to unite against discrimination!"
"Of course! Of course! You can definitely say we're good friends!"
"Alright alright! Thanks, thanks!"
"…"
The three people Tim Story called were Eric Reed, Regina King, and Nia Long.
All three were African Americans in the U.S. entertainment industry.
The first was a jazz singer whose work often charted on Billboard.
The second was a Hollywood actress — debuting in the sitcom 227, and best known for Jerry Maguire.
Yeah, that Jerry Maguire with Tom Cruise.
She played Marcee Tidwell.
The third was also an actress — also debuted in 227, and became famous from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
Yep, Will Smith's show.
She played his on-screen girlfriend.
All three were Tim Story's high school classmates.
And the only reason he ever got to direct Barbershop and be nurtured by Fox was because Regina King, a friend of Ice Cube, had recommended him to Cube, hoping he'd help out her classmate. That's how Tim Story came into Fox's radar.
Yep, Hollywood's that realistic.
If you can break in as an actor without a background, that's already impressive.
As for becoming a director?
You'd better find some money to make a film yourself — or go home and dream about it.
In dreams, everything's possible.
It was exactly because Tim Story had connections that Fox even gave him a shot.
They didn't even expect to get returns from investing in him.
They just kept him around because Rupert Murdoch loved shaking things up — playing with chaos.
Dropping a few tens of millions on a potentially useful pawn wasn't hard for them.
Even if they lost it, who cared? They lost more than that in one night of gambling.
But if the pawn did become useful one day?
That'd be like pulling a royal flush in Texas Hold'em.
Even the French gambling legend Piel Cason would have to double-check his cards.
So when Murdoch's scheme finally drove Tim Story into rage and despair…
He lashed back.
On May 7th at noon, he gave an interview—
Well, one "arranged" by Fox.
Facing the cameras, he declared that everything being said about him was total nonsense—
"I know everyone's talking about Fantastic Four! That I ruined Fantastic Four! But I want to say—it's all lies! Not true! The truth is, Chris Columbus never liked Fantastic Four! He's a hypocrite! He never liked Marvel! Or me!"
"When I was working hard on casting, and every actor on our list refused to come, I called Chris Columbus, and he said: since they won't come, let's just do open auditions and start over!"
"You hear that? Does that sound like something a person who loves Marvel would say?!"
"If he really loved Marvel, loved Fantastic Four, he'd be fully committed!"
"And his dislike of me showed from day one!"
"Because he wanted to turn Fantastic Four into his private garden!"
"Before I joined the project, he already had a director picked out!"
"So when I ruined his dream, he kept targeting me nonstop!"
"He's a racist!"
"He didn't trust me because of my skin color!"
"He slowed down production on purpose!"
"He wanted to disgust me into quitting!"
"So his own guy could take over!"
"I'll even say this—right here!"
"All the current rumors about Fantastic Four? They all came from him!"
"Because before this, I already confronted him!"
"He was scared! Guilty! So he tried to destroy me first!"
Boom—
The interview detonated across America.
This time it was really a nationwide explosion.
Because racism isn't a small issue. And the accused racist was a famous director, Chris Columbus.
That…
Split the American public into three camps:
The shocked and confused:
"Oh my god—what is happening—"
"How did Fantastic Four suddenly turn into a racial issue?"
The furious and yelling:
"Damn! Chris Columbus, that white bastard, dared to discriminate against us? He deserves to die!"
"Holy crab—he's just a pirate in a suit! Not fit to be a director!"
"Make him apologize! Get him out of Hollywood!!"
And the applauding and sneering:
"So the Fantastic Four director is actually Black? Well, that explains it. If I were a producer and some new investor forced a Black director onto me, I'd kick him out too! Kick him out!!"
"M-F***! So Constantine actually chose a Black director, huh? Guess the plan was to keep making garbage films. With that kind of IQ, what good movie could a Black man even make?"
"So who's the investor that picked Tim Story, anyway?"
Yep.
Even though Tim Story had the "right" skin color for public sympathy, not all of American opinion was on his side.
Part of it was because the "Black Messiah" of culture hadn't risen yet — but mostly because silencing dissent never works.
You cover people's mouths so they can't insult you — that doesn't make them like you.
That's brain-dead logic.
Forcing people to shut up just makes them hate you more.
So when Tim Story came out claiming all the Fantastic Four chaos was caused by racism—
Most white Americans thought, Good.
A Black man directing a movie was already too much. And now he wanted to touch a white superhero IP?
So, what, no more white talent left?
Meanwhile, the Black community exploded — boycotts, protests, and loud support.
Eric Reed said:
"I oppose all forms of racial discrimination."
Regina King told reporters:
"Tim Story is an excellent person. He was our class president in high school. He's kind, I respect him deeply, and I believe he's capable of directing a superhero movie."
Nia Long said:
"I really don't want to believe this is true, because I love Chris Columbus's films too. I think there must be some misunderstanding, and I hope everyone can sit down and clear it up."
Yeah.
Like I said—before Hitler's reputation turned around, no one wanted to throw punches for the Jews.
Especially not in Hollywood.
Everyone knew: one wrong word, and you're done.
Mel Gibson could risk it — that was his family business.
The rest?
Do you have that kind of backing?
Is your dad your patron?
Can your dad use The New Testament as a weapon?
If not, and you still run your mouth—you've got guts.
Still, Murdoch was pleased.
His pawn had done its job — igniting chaos.
He had the media, and he could steer the storm however he wanted.
Except—
Just as he was about to gloat and tell his assistant to keep pressing the attack—
"Boss!!! Bad news!!!"
The assistant burst into his office.
"What happened?"
Murdoch frowned.
The assistant handed him a newspaper. "Warner's struck back!"
"Hm?"
Murdoch took it and scanned.
Front page of The Hollywood Reporter:
[Director Chris Columbus Signs Deal with New Line Cinema to Develop Iron Man; reportedly invited Isabella Haywood to join.]
Then The Wall Street Journal:
[X-Men 3 Production Imminent, But Fox Has Yet to Finalize Halle Berry's Pay Raise; Director Bryan Singer Reveals Fox Tried to Trick Her into Signing a Cheap Contract with a Fake Script.]
Finally, The New York Times:
[Tim Story Is from Fox.]
"…"
The flood of headlines made Murdoch's eyes bulge.
The next second—
He shot up and roared at his assistant—
"Oh—sh*t—"
"Control the narrative! Control the narrative!! CONTROL THE NARRATIVE!!!"
"We can't be seen as the instigators!! We can't!!"
Exactly—
Sure, Fox's attack was fierce. Murdoch's plan was nasty.
So what?
Who said wars had only two sides? One attacks, the other defends?
What is this, a turn-based RPG?
You stripped off my magic resistance? Fine. I'll go full offense now.
No shields. Only nukes.
Whoever flinches dies.
And Warner's counterattack? Their ammo came easy—
Isabella still remembered how Barry Meyer refused to pay Halle Berry $20 million for Catwoman.
If Barry Meyer wouldn't pay her that, did Murdoch seriously plan to give her that much for X-Men?
Don't be stupid.
Of course not.
But just because Murdoch wouldn't pay, didn't mean Halle Berry wouldn't ask.
After all, she's the one who once demanded a raise from Ronald Perelman — in public.
So you're calling us racists now?
Okay, fine. Did you give her $20 million then?
You didn't? Then you're looking down on her too, aren't you?
And she's the first Black woman in history to win a Best Actress Oscar!
If you don't respect her, that's even worse discrimination!
You're dismissing the success of Black excellence!
Heh~