....
The Next Morning – January 1, 2012
....
The Regal residence, situated in Hollywood Hills, was quiet now.
Scattered beer cans, a few crumpled paper plates are slowly being cleaned by the house maids.
Sowhere in the distance, a pigeon flapped its wings and took off from the rooftop, cutting across the pale sky of a new year.
Regal stood by the window...
Everyone was in their own world now.
He could hear a faint, muffled hum of the kettle from the kitchen - probably, Gwen making her third coffee.
Simon was still passed out sideways on the couch, hugging a cushion like it was a lifeline.
Samantha had left an hour ago, she had a call with so legal team from LA.
Keanu had returned to his apartnt late in the night - still healing, but walking now, with the help of a cane.
Now, Regal adjusting the collar of his black coat, his watch read 7:42 AM.
It was ti to et Stan.
Marvel couldn’t be kept waiting anymore.
He grabbed the thick envelope he had prepped days ago.
Contracts, sketches, mock-ups, a full proof-of-concept pitch for the shared cinematic universe plan he had dreamt of.
As he stepped out of the house, he pulled out his phone and called ahead.
"Samantha." He said once the line connected. "Let Stan know I will be at the Marvel building in 20 minutes."
Samantha on the other side gave a surprised laugh. "Regal? On the dot? This is a new year."
He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
He hung up and stepped into the backseat of the black car waiting at the curb.
.....
After a half hour of riding through empty roads on the first day of the new year, the car slowed to a halt.
Outside the window, the Marvel logo lood large on the building façade - bold red, iconic.
Regal exhaled, lips tightening with purpose.
He stepped out, and walked up the steps - two at a ti.
It was a new year.
And he was done waiting...
....
Inside the room with Stan Lee sat two other n - Tolliver Lee and Carrow Seagal.
The conversation began with a few carefully chosen words, a subtle gesture of concern toward Regal.
They brought up the recent accident, offering a quiet acknowledgnt, perhaps as much out of politeness as sincerity.
Regal nodded, accepting it without comnt, then, without wasting another mont, he cut straight to the matter at hand.
"I want to start with Spider-Man."
There was a beat of silence, then Stan raised an eyebrow.
"Spider-Man, huh..." He murmured, almost as if he had been waiting for Regal to say it.
Tolliver and Carrow glanced at each other, a brief exchange of looks between two n who asured everything in odds and outcos.
Regal leaned forward slightly. "I have thought it through a lot, and this is where it all should begin."
It was clear what they were discussing - the first film.
The launchpad. The one that would shape the direction of everything to co, both for MDCU and Regal’s next big move.
Carrow, ever the businessman, let out a short breath.
"Honestly? That’s a better pick than I expected, I was sure you would go with that ’Iron Boy’ idea, and I was already preparing to talk you down from it, that robot-in-a-tin-suit thing just doesn’t have the sa instinctive pull as the Spider kid."
"Yeah, man’s not even a top-five rch mover right now. I an, I love the armor, but co on, and for a second, I really thought he would go full mad-man and pick Batman or sothing." Tolliver added with a slow nod.
They weren’t insulting him, not really.
Just saying what they would have said if they were still on the other side of the table.
And the truth was, over ti, both Tolliver and Carrow had co to respect Regal - not necessarily for who he was, but for what he delivered.
The numbers spoke.
Harry Potter’s success had only solidified their position.
At this point, backing Regal wasn’t just smart, it was necessary.
They had too much riding on this, undermining him now would be senseless.
Still, even as they sailed together in the sa direction, they weren’t the type to take their hands off the map entirely.
They would follow Regal, yes.
But they would be watching the compass, always, just in case the storm ever changed course.
Then Regal spoke again, calmly, like he was simply correcting a minor misunderstanding.
"I think you got it wrong."
Tolliver raised an eyebrow, Carrow just looked at him, silent.
Regal didn’t pause.
"You said you were ready to talk out of Iron Man, thought I would go with him and you would need to pull back, but the truth is..." He exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. "Iron Man will be the face of the ’M’ in ’MDC’, I don’t have any doubt about that."
Tolliver leaned slightly forward now, a little more curious, Carrow didn’t move, but his fingers stilled on the armrest.
"The reason I chose Spider-Man." Regal continued. "It is because I am in a comfortable position, we are ahead, there’s room to think long-term."
"But if things were different." Regal said, his voice quiet but certain. "If I was in real trouble - neck deep in debt, studio breathing down my neck, needing to bet everything I have just to finish a film... every last penny, every drop of energy, even my na..."
He paused, but just for breath.
"I wouldn’t hesitate, I would bet it all on Iron Man."
He looked at them now - directly, without flinching.
"Because I know what I can do with him, if I was pushed into a corner, and I had only one shot at building everything from the ground up? I would take Iron Man over anyone else, every single ti."
He looked at Tolliver for a second. "...and Bat Man isn’t a wrong bet to actually."
The room fell still.
There was nothing loud or dramatic in the way Regal said it.
But there was sothing in the way he believed it, without hesitation or doubt - that left a trace of cold air hanging in the space between them.
Not enough to freeze, but enough for both Tolliver and Carrow to feel it on the back of their necks.
But then Stan broke the silence with a warm, gravelly chuckle. "Haaa... haaa..."
Tolliver scowled. "That’s just stupid."
Carrow gave a slow nod. "It’s reckless, at the very least."
But it wasn’t Regal who responded.
"No." Stan said quietly, his voice cutting through the room with surprising clarity. "No, it’s not."
Both Tolliver and Carrow turned to him, confused.
"I would have picked Iron Man too." Stan continued. "If I were in a hole like Regal described, and I had to bet everything just to survive? Yeah. I would go for him without blinking. In fact, if Regal hadn’t co along, I was already planning to steer us in that direction... once we clawed our way out of the ss we were in."
Tolliver looked visibly annoyed now.
"You’re just like him." He muttered. "This is exactly why I can’t trust either of you with a long-term financial map."
Stan turned to his son, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
"You know, Tolliver... I don’t think I have ever really told you why I wrote the characters I did, not really."
He leaned forward a little. "And I am not talking about Jerry, he’s a writer too, yeah - but for different reasons, we were always headed toward the sa place, just on opposite paths."
Tolliver exhaled, arms crossed. "Yeah, I already know, uncle Jerry said it once-’you just wanted to impress so girl you liked’."
Stan laughed softly. "Well, that’s how it started, sure, I was a kid, that kind of thing pushes you more than you would think."
He paused, his voice turning more reflective.
"But the reason I kept writing, after the girl was gone, after the job lost its shine - it was because I started realizing sothing, I wasn’t just creating stories, I was giving people sothing to hold onto, characters who were broken, unsure, lonely, misunderstood... but who still kept going."
Tolliver didn’t speak, neither did Carrow.
Stan continued. "I made Spider-Man because I wanted to show a teenager who wasn’t rich, or perfect, or invincible. I made Iron Man... because I wanted to take the most flawed man I could think of - a selfish, arrogant genius, and ask: what happens when he’s finally forced to care?"
Then he looked at Regal.
"And that’s why I spoke up just now, because when Regal said he would bet his life on Iron Man... I knew he ant it, because he understands what the character ans when you’re desperate, when you’re alone, when you have nothing left but the choice to rise or fall."
The room had gone completely still.
Stan’s eyes lingered on his son. "So maybe next ti soone says sothing you don’t agree with, you should ask why they believe it, not just whether it fits your spreadsheet."
No one responded right away.
Carrow finally broke the silence, his tone still edged but now carrying a note of sarcasm. "So what, should we be saying thanks for the teachings now? Little wisdom hour with Stan Lee?"
Stan gave a half-smile. "I am just saying - sotis the heart knows sothing before the market does."
"Right." Tolliver muttered, then shook his head. "Anyway... we are just glad it’s not Iron Man, at least for now."
Carrow straightened in his seat and looked toward Regal.
"Regal." He said evenly, with the calm authority of soone used to closing deals. "So, what are we actually calling this thing?"
There was a pause.
Just long enough to make them wonder if he was about to pivot again.
Regal’s gaze was steady.
He just reached for the paper in front of him, a slight crease running through its fold, like it had been carried around too long in a jacket pocket.
He placed it down, turned it around slowly so they could read it.
"Web of Destiny."
The words ’Spider-Man: Web of Destiny’ were hand-drawn in a stylized script - elegant yet raw, curved lines intersecting with sharp, web-thin edges.
The ’Web’ part was slightly elevated in the layout, almost suspended in air by a pencil-sketched thread that descended from the top margin like a silk tether.
Each letter seed to breathe - carefully shaded, subtly kinetic, as if the title itself was caught mid-swing between two buildings.
Below the title, faint but unmistakable, was a side profile of Spider-Man, not the loud, cartoonish version.
This one was lithe, nearly silhouetted, crouched on the edge of a fire escape in pencil-shadow, body language tense, aware.
The lines were intricate but unforced, rain streaked the background.
A single gloved hand held a thin web-line that looped off the corner of the page, disappearing into negative space.
Tolliver leaned forward, squinting at it.
Carrow tilted his head, then gave a short nod.
For a mont, all three n sat in a strange silence - not tense, or uncertain, but thoughtful.
Like the kind of pause you take before crossing a street you have walked your whole life, only to suddenly notice the cracks in the sidewalk.
Then Tolliver, half under his breath, said. "Guess the web’s already pulling us in."
Carrow didn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "Too late to struggle."
.
....
[To be continued...]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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