Water World Animation Studio.
Zane sat at the head of the long table. The room smelled of marker pens and caffeine.
Stephen, the Studio Director, stood up. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week, but his eyes were bright.
"Boss," Stephen said, clicking a slide. "We have grown."
The Army:
90 Computer Graphic Artists.
15 Hand-Drawn Artists.
15 Screenwriters.
38 Support Staff.
Total:158 Employees.
"And the universities?" Zane asked, tapping his pen.
"Locked in," Stephen nodded. "Stanford. Los Angeles Art Institute. If we need 50 artists tomorrow, we get them. No headhunting wars. No bidding wars."
Zane nodded. Victor's strategy was sound.
'Grow your own talent,' Zane thought. 'It's cheaper than stealing it. And they don't come with bad habits.'
The Money Pit.
"The projects?" Zane prompted.
Stephen pulled out a stack of storyboards.
"SpongeBob Season 2," Stephen reported. "Rough animation is done. Full season in three months."
"And Finding Nemo?"
Stephen hesitated. He looked at the budget sheet.
"80 people working on it," Stephen said, his voice dropping slightly. "It will take 3 years. And money... well, it's expensive."
The room went quiet.
Making movies is fun. Paying for them is terrifying. Independent subsidiary meant independent wallet. They couldn't just dip into Wald Pictures' bank account anymore.
'Nemo costs $63 million in the original timeline,' Zane calculated. 'That's cheap compared to the future. But right now? It's a mountain of cash.'
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Zane's finger hit the mahogany table.
"I'll give you $10 million," Zane decided, his voice cutting through the silence. "Seed money. The rest? You earn it from SpongeBob."
Stephen and David Messer (Chief Screenwriter) nodded. They knew the score. SpongeBob was the cash cow. Nemo was the gamble.
"And Peppa Pig?" Zane asked, turning to David.
David laughed nervously. "Boss, it's been three months. We barely have a team."
Zane sighed.
'I'm impatient,' Zane admitted to himself. 'But Peppa Pig is a billion-dollar pink bacon slice. I want that money yesterday.'
The Old Friend.
SpongeBob Store. Los Angeles.
This was where it started. The smell of plush toys and plastic wrap brought back memories.
But James wasn't there.
"Where is he?" Zane asked Viasim, a clerk.
"You don't know?" Viasim looked surprised. "His mother, Alice. She's in the hospital."
Zane's heart skipped a beat. Alice. The woman who fed him when he had nothing. The woman who believed in him when he was just a kid with a crazy idea.
"Which hospital?"
The Hospital Room.
Zane burst into the room. James was sitting by the bed, looking tired.
"You bastard!" Zane whispered-shouted, grabbing James by the collar. "Why didn't you call me?!"
"I didn't want to bother you," James mumbled, looking at his shoes. "You're a CEO now."
"I'm your brother!" Zane snapped. "If Alice is sick, I am here. Period."
He checked Alice's chart. Osteoporosis flare-up. Painful, but not fatal. Zane let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Money?" Zane asked, pulling out his checkbook.
"I have enough," James protested.
"Shut up," Zane said, shoving a check into James' pocket. "Take it. Don't make me punch you."
James looked at Zane. The hesitation in his eyes hurt.
'He thinks we are different now,' Zane realized with a pang of sadness. 'He sees the suit. The watch. He forgot the kid who used to sleep on his couch.'
The Resignation.
That night, they sat on James' porch. The city lights flickered in the distance.
"Zane," James said quietly, staring at his beer. "I can't do it."
"Can't do what?"
"The General Manager job. The chain stores. It's too big."
Zane looked at his friend. James was a good man. Loyal. Hardworking. But he was drowning.
'I tried to pull him up,' Zane thought. 'But I pulled him too high, too fast. He's suffocating.'
"I want to run one store," James admitted. "I want to take care of Mom and Lily. I don't want to run an empire."
Zane took a sip of his beer. He felt the weight of leadership. Sometimes, being a good friend means letting someone step down.
"Okay," Zane said softly. "You run the flagship. I'll find someone else for the chain."
James let out a long sigh of relief. The tension left his shoulders.
"Thanks, Zane."
The Spotlight.
The Next Day.
Zane adjusted his tie in the mirror.
No more shadows. No more "man behind the curtain."
Today, he was going on TV. UPN Network.Prime Time Interview.
Zane Blackwood was stepping onto the stage.
'Showtime,' Zane thought, flashing a confident smile at his reflection. 'Time to sell the dream.'
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