After Roman Sionis's shocking surprise attack killed Sal Maroni, the abandoned warehouse fell into a brief, stunned silence. Maroni's men reached for their guns, but Roman moved faster. He whipped out two matte-black pistols fitted with suppressors and fired in rapid succession.
Every shot hit.
After the soft, hissing pops unique to suppressed gunfire, more than half the goons, men who hadn't even managed to raise their weapons, were already down. The rest froze, not daring to make another move.
The two figures in the darkness still didn't react at all.
Roman swept his muzzle around the room one last time, then nodded with satisfaction. "From now on, I'm your boss."
He kicked Maroni's corpse aside, sat down in the chair as if it belonged to him, and began flipping through the documents on the table.
Two goons traded a glance. Seeing Roman's back to them, they drew their guns at the same time, trying to take him out. The instant they moved, Roman picked up the suppressed pistol at his hand and fired two shots behind him without even turning.
As two bodies hit the floor, Roman continued reading like nothing had happened. "Deadshot. Killer Croc. Not bad. Very, very good."
He looked up at last, turning his attention to the two motionless silhouettes. "So. Are you willing to work for me?"
The camera finally framed them and slowly pushed in.
Now the audience could see them clearly. One wore a glowing red cybernetic eye. The other, a hunched shape under a hooded sweatshirt, straightened gradually, revealing a massive body well over two meters tall. When he bared his teeth in reply, the face that emerged was crocodilian, vicious, lined with sharp fangs.
Neither man spoke, but Roman got the answer he wanted. He nodded again. "Good."
He flipped another page. The camera swept across the word Batman on the paper as Roman said, "Then we'll start with the bat."
At this point, Sherry Lansing lifted her wrist and checked her watch again.
7:30 p.m.
As expected.
Simon Westeros had used those thirty minutes with flawless precision, laying out the entire foundation of the film.
Usually, a movie only needed one or two iconic moments to be remembered, and those moments often carried the box office on their backs. Sally's faked orgasm in When Harry Met Sally. Indy shooting the swordsman in Raiders of the Lost Ark. That classic twist contest in Pulp Fiction. And so on.
But this Batman had already delivered, in just thirty minutes, a stunning prologue, Catwoman's brutal kick, and Black Mask's pencil horror. Each one was the kind of scene that burned itself into your memory. Given the filmmaking skill Simon Westeros had shown over the last few years, Sherry Lansing didn't believe the rest of the film would be even a fraction weaker than these opening thirty minutes.
For a long time, the industry had been buzzing about how unusual Simon Westeros's new film supposedly was. Sherry Lansing had thought some of it might be exaggerated. Now, every trace of doubt in her mind had vanished.
Even though Simon had helped pull strings to make her CEO of MGM UA, Sherry Lansing had never intended to become completely dependent on Daenerys Entertainment. No one wanted to be an appendage.
Now she thought differently.
In the Hollywood to come, the smartest move would be to cling tightly to Simon Westeros's leg.
With that thought, Sherry Lansing looked toward the front rows until she found Simon. He seemed to say something to the girlfriend beside him, then stood and slipped out of the hall in silence, heading backstage.
It felt like the perfect opportunity to go talk to him.
But after hesitating for a moment, Sherry Lansing stayed seated and turned her attention back to the screen.
This film had already given her a flood of insight in its first thirty minutes alone. The rest would surely offer even more surprises.
Sherry Lansing stayed put, but that didn't mean other people did.
With more than 1,200 people in the hall, plenty had come tonight specifically for Simon Westeros, the Hollywood titan and super-rich power broker.
Backstage at the Shrine Civic Auditorium, Simon had just gone to the restroom. Returning to the lounge area, he spotted a tall woman walking in from the auditorium entrance as if she'd simply wandered out for air.
"Hi, Nicole. Heading over there?"
Nicole Kidman heard him greet her and point toward the restrooms behind him. She nodded reflexively. "Yeah. I am."
Then she hesitated. Simon didn't look like he was rushing back into the hall. Instead, he walked toward a sofa in the corner of the lounge. So she didn't press herself into his space immediately.
She went to the restroom anyway, made a show of touching up her makeup, then came back.
Now there was another woman at Simon's side.
Judging by her complexion, she looked Latina. Her figure was far hotter than Nicole's. And although there was a sofa right there, the woman was perched snugly on the arm of Simon's single chair, one arm draped over his shoulder like she belonged there.
Nicole paused, unsure whether she should interrupt.
After a beat, she went over anyway.
Seeing her approach, Simon introduced them. "Nicole, this is Sabina. She's from Italy. Sabina, this is Nicole."
Sabina Ferilli stood and offered her hand. Her English carried a pronounced Italian accent. "Hello, Miss Kidman. I really liked your performance in Pulp Fiction."
"Thank you," Nicole said, shaking her hand.
She couldn't place who this woman was. And complimenting her English felt odd when the accent was that strong.
Sabina didn't let the moment go awkward. After greeting Nicole, she leaned back toward Simon, bending close and murmuring in Italian, "I've been staying at Valeria's place these days. Simon, you can call me anytime."
Sabina Ferilli and Valeria Golino were both Italian. They had met at Gucci's big show during the last Milan Fashion Week and became close friends quickly. Sabina had just explained that she'd come this time specifically to support Valeria. She'd also signed with WMA and wanted to try her luck in Hollywood.
Simon's gaze slid over the breathtaking view offered by her dress as she leaned in. Then he said, "Too bad, Lina. I'm flying to Australia tomorrow."
Sabina looked disappointed, but she didn't cling. She said goodbye, gave Nicole a small nod, and headed back toward the hall.
There were plenty of other people backstage. Nicole wasn't as bold as Sabina. Once the other woman left, she sat down on the sofa beside Simon.
Simon asked a staff member to bring two bottles of mineral water, then looked at Nicole. "So? How are you feeling about the movie?"
Nicole said, "That pencil scene was terrifying. I don't think I'll ever be able to touch a pencil again."
Simon chuckled. "The original cut was worse. There was blood. But we were worried about the rating, so we had to remove it."
The final rating for this Batman was PG-13.
Even with the blood removed, some reviewers in the ratings process still thought the scene was too violent and might leave viewers with psychological scars. But with the combined influence of Daenerys Entertainment and Warner Bros., the version Simon submitted passed without a single cut and still got PG-13.
As for a PG rating, Simon had never considered it from the beginning.
Nicole leaned forward slightly, clearly interested in the behind-the-scenes detail. She nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you back in the hall? Are you worried about the box office?"
Simon tilted his head toward the sounds coming from inside. "I can recite the entire film from memory at this point. Watching it or not doesn't really matter. And as for box office, I'm pretty confident."
He'd been busy for half a year, and the preparation time before that had been even longer. Every shot in the film was practically branded into his brain.
And commercially, without even counting the small-scale film and TV attempts in the 1960s, this was the first serious big-budget live-action Batman film in half a century. Simon had never worried about how it would perform.
For countless Americans, Batman was part of childhood. As long as the movie wasn't a complete mess, the only question was how much money it would make.
Of course, if audiences weren't satisfied, then building it into a series would end up like Tim Burton's Batman in the original timeline: cash in nostalgia, then see each sequel earn less than the last until the whole thing collapsed.
So Simon wasn't worried about the first film's commercial performance. What he cared about was the bigger game: how to keep the DC superhero IP in his hands alive and expanding, how to build it into a complete and lasting DC cinematic universe.
Terry Semel had already decided, after seeing the rough cut, that Warner would fully honor its investment share in the sequels. Lately, Warner had been probing whether Simon intended to direct the sequel personally.
Simon still hadn't given them a final answer, but he had no desire to keep directing. He'd rather become the kind of figure Kevin Feige would be for Marvel in the original timeline, overseeing the whole vision without doing every job himself. And once the DC universe truly expanded, he wouldn't have the time to do everything anyway.
Staff delivered two bottles of water. Nicole took them, handed one to Simon, then opened hers and took a small sip before recapping it and setting it on the small round table in front of her. She hesitated, then looked at him with a faintly wounded, resentful gaze.
"I... you know... I could have tried for Catwoman too, back then."
Just from that single kick on the big screen, Nicole already knew Valeria Golino's Catwoman would become unforgettable. If she had gotten the role, then besides Mia, she would have had a second iconic screen image to her name.
Simon studied Nicole for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. "You don't fit this role."
Nicole only let the resentment show for a second. When he said she wasn't suitable, she couldn't possibly know the reasons behind it. She could only assume it was because her earlier little maneuvers had annoyed him.
After thinking it over, Nicole said, "Simon, isn't Daenery's planning to make Wonder Woman too? Maybe I could try for that."
Simon looked her up and down again, smiling. "You don't seriously not know that role is already decided, do you?"
"I've heard a bit," Nicole nodded, still unwilling to give up. "That, um, Famke Janssen. She's not as famous as I am."
Simon nodded toward the hall where the movie continued to play. "Adam and Valeria weren't as famous as you either. But after Batman comes out, that might not be true anymore."
Nicole remembered their presence on screen and didn't doubt it. And thinking of Famke Janssen made her feel a sharp, immediate sense of threat.
That woman, like her, was tall. And she was beautiful too. If she ended up more famous than Nicole, she would inevitably steal roles that might have belonged to her. Hollywood already had very few parts that suited tall actresses. And Famke would have Simon Westeros backing her.
The more Nicole thought about it, the more wounded her expression became, softening into a pitiful vulnerability that could tug at any man's heart.
"Simon," she said, voice low, pleading, "let me try for Wonder Woman. I promise I'll be very obedient from now on. I'll listen to you."