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🕑 Added 2025-06-13 16:25:07 +0000 UTCChapter 1506: Undermining the Foundation
The private meeting between Brian Sworston and Michael Linton could be a big deal—or maybe it’s nothing at all.
Perhaps it’s just two friends catching up, no strings attached. Or maybe these two big shots struck a deal behind closed doors, quietly brewing a storm. Heck, who knows—maybe Brian and Michael, both married, are hiding some heartfelt, forbidden emotional connection beneath the surface?
Harry Percy didn’t overhear their conversation, so he couldn’t say for sure.
But one thing Harry was certain of: they were being extremely careful, sneaking around to avoid prying eyes, clearly hoping to keep this meeting under wraps.
Though Harry didn’t know why they were so secretive, that didn’t stop him from finding the perfect angle. He passed the info along to Edgar, figuring it’d settle a favor.
When Harry left, Edgar stayed calm and composed as always, unruffled on the surface. Yet Harry couldn’t shake the feeling of a eerie stillness—like the quiet before a storm. A mix of unease and tension gripped him as he handed over the photos he’d secretly snapped, then took off.
It wasn’t until he stepped outside, back into the sunlight, that Harry realized how heavy his shoulders felt.
In Hollywood, after years of dodging conspiracies and backstabbing, you get used to lurking in the shadows—so much so that even your veins and muscles start to stiffen.
It’s all about profit. Always has been. These businessmen? Show them a 300% return, and they’ll turn into wolves, ready to ditch family and loyalty in a heartbeat. And in Hollywood, the profits are way beyond 300%.
People die for money, just like birds die for food.
Simple. Brutal.
Harry let out a long breath, picked up his pace, and hurried away.
Once he’d put some distance between himself and the scene, a little spark of excitement flickered inside him. Watching the drama unfold from the sidelines was always a thrill. The only question was: who’d come out on top this time?
Meanwhile, Edgar sat still, trying to sort through his thoughts.
Anger?
Oh, that was a given. If Edgar’s hunch was right, Brian was stabbing him in the back—again. It wouldn’t be the first time, or even the second.
But what good was anger alone?
When it came to solving problems, anger was usually the most useless emotion. “Rage without power” didn’t cut it—unless he could bash Brian and Michael’s heads in without consequences, which wasn’t an option. Right now, anger was the last thing he needed.
Besides, this was Hollywood. Profit trumped everything. Expecting loyalty or trust here was a luxury nobody could afford.
They weren’t kids anymore.
So, what should he do?
Keep the info under wraps, stay in the shadows, and make sure Brian and Michael didn’t realize they’d been exposed—then watch how things played out?
No. Too passive.
Plus, with Spider-Man 2 about to hit theaters, the next few weeks were bound to be a whirlwind. Sitting back and observing wouldn’t get him far.
On the flip side, he only had bits and pieces right now—pure speculation. What if he took the initiative instead? Test the waters with some vague prodding, gauge Brian and Michael’s reactions, figure out the truth, and get ahead of the game? Take control and turn the tables—wouldn’t that be smarter?
Edgar sat there for a while, piecing it together.
Then, fuming, he stormed back to William Morris.
That part wasn’t hard—he was pissed, after all. He just needed to let it out and maybe ham it up a little.
But once he jumped into the fray, he realized acting was tougher than he’d thought. Was he overdoing it? He wasn’t sure.
No turning back now.
Bam!
Edgar slammed open the door to Brian Sworston’s office. The secretary stumbled in behind him, flustered. “Mr. Sworston—”
Brian waved her off with a casual hand, grinning at Edgar.
Edgar glared, barely containing his fury. “The company’s planning to put someone else up for Peter Parker?”
Brian’s expression froze for a split second.
That tiny pause was all Edgar needed. He’d guessed right.
Sure, it wasn’t a shock that rivals like Creative Artists Agency were making moves—Hollywood was a jungle, after all. But a knife in the back from William Morris? Wait… should he even be surprised?
Brian, oblivious to Edgar’s racing thoughts, quickly recovered. “Who’d you hear that from?”
“No way that’s true!”
Except it was. William Morris was prepping to slide one of their own into the Peter Parker role. The root of it? Brian wasn’t happy with Edgar and Anson going rogue.
They were planning to ditch the “$20 Million Club” and negotiate pay based on box office cuts instead.
First, that threw a wrench into William Morris’s other actor contracts.
Second, Creative Artists Agency was way ahead in the “$20 Million Club” game, and William Morris desperately needed Anson in that lineup to boost their clout.
Third—and most importantly—Anson’s shift in pay structure could make William Morris a target. Whether it was cutthroat competition from rivals or their own talent jumping ship, it could tank the company’s bottom line.
In Brian’s mind, they needed to teach Anson a lesson—keep him in line. His plan aligned perfectly with Michael Linton’s, so when Michael reached out for a discreet meet-up, Brian played coy twice before finally agreeing on the third ask.
Michael was laser-focused on taking Anson down, teaming up with William Morris to pull the rug out from under him. William Morris, meanwhile, didn’t care who played Peter Parker—as long as it was one of their clients.
That said, they weren’t about to toss their biggest cash cow out the window.
So Brian’s scheme was slick: slot a William Morris actor into Peter Parker, then convince Anson to take on Batman.
Two birds, one stone.
The key? Control. Classic gaslighting—Brian’s specialty.
“Even if we encourage some internal competition, we’re not dumb enough to turn on Anson. He’s the company’s golden goose. We wouldn’t sabotage ourselves,” Brian said with a breezy laugh, waving it off.
“Where’d you hear this rumor? Harry Smith? Come on, you know he’s been jealous of your success forever. He’s just stirring the pot.”
“But that trip Anson took to Warner Bros.—you know about that, right? Was it just a smokescreen, or are they serious about working with him? I know Jeff Robinov’s always been a fan. We should lock that opportunity down.”
Edgar eyed Brian warily. “Really?”
Brian grinned. “If you don’t trust me, at least trust yourself. Look around Hollywood—who’s gonna step into Anson’s shoes? Nobody. Not a single soul. Stop overthinking this. Have some faith in yourself and Anson. Don’t let gossip shake you.”
Edgar seemed to settle down a bit, lulled by Brian’s words. “Warner Bros. did show real interest. Anson’s thinking it over.”
While Brian’s guard was down for a second, Edgar glanced up and dropped a bombshell. “But where’d Harry Smith hear this from? Just pulling it out of thin air? With his skills, I doubt he’s got the chops to make up something this big from scratch.”
Chapter 1507: Everyone’s Got Their Own Agenda
“But where did Harry Smith catch wind of this? Is it just hot air? With his skills, he shouldn’t be capable of pulling fake news out of thin air, right?”
Out of nowhere, just when Brian thought Edgar had calmed down, Edgar threw a curveball that caught Brian totally off guard.
Brian froze for a second, clearly not expecting it.
But Brian wasn’t some pushover. Climbing to the CEO spot at William Morris—a place where seniority rules—before hitting forty took some serious chops. Smooth-talking and sharp as a tack, Brian had game. He quickly pulled himself together, sizing up Edgar’s intense, almost menacing glare. Seeing nothing but burning anger in Edgar’s eyes, he steadied himself, brain kicking into high gear with a lightning-fast response.
“Lately, all the buzz around Peter Parker has been nonstop. Things inside the company haven’t exactly been quiet either.”
“At a meeting the other day, someone asked—if Anson doesn’t keep playing Peter Parker, could the role stay in-house with one of our own actors?”
“I said, ‘Why let the good stuff go to outsiders?’ If Anson passes on it, of course we’d push our own replacement.”
“But that’s only if Anson says no.”
“Anson’s the top priority for William Morris right now. Everything we do puts him first—he’s got the whole company as his rock-solid backup. That hasn’t changed and won’t change. I made that crystal clear in the meeting, told everyone to settle down.”
“But you know how rumors work—they spread, they twist, and suddenly they’re a whole different story.”
Seamless. Flawless.
In a split second, Brian’s answer was airtight. You had to hand it to him—his quick thinking was impressive. Even if he was making it up on the spot, he sold it like a pro.
But there was one fatal flaw:
There wasn’t any rumor inside William Morris about “pushing someone for Peter Parker.” In other words, Brian was explaining something that didn’t even exist.
That only confirmed Edgar’s suspicions: Brian and Michael were cooking up an inside deal to stab Anson in the back.
For now, Edgar couldn’t figure out how William Morris planned to pull this off without pissing Anson off, but he wasn’t about to sit around and wait.
Still, he wouldn’t let Brian spot the hole in his story.
If Edgar’s guess was right, when he’d stormed into the office earlier, Brian’s secretary had overheard him. By now, the rumor should already be spreading. If it hadn’t taken off by the time he left, no big deal—he’d give it a nudge himself.
Anger burned in his chest—
Half real, half for show.
Edgar locked eyes with Brian, barely believing it. Were they seriously this ruthless? Not only backstabbing Anson but using him as a stepping stone—while still expecting him to stay clueless and keep working for William Morris like a good little soldier?
Was Anson the idiot here, or was Brian?
If neither of them were fools, then it was madness—blinded-by-profit, risk-it-all-for-a-bigger-payout madness.
Or maybe…
Edgar cooled off, a spark of insight hitting him. Maybe it wasn’t stupidity or madness at all—just bigger stakes.
In Hollywood, there are no permanent enemies, no permanent friends, no untouchable stars—only eternal interests.
In that instant, Edgar latched onto a thought and snapped back to full clarity.
So, how should they fight back?
No hesitation, no need to even think it over—Edgar picked his side: Anson. Of course, Anson.
This needed a long-term plan.
But in that flash of a moment, Edgar found his footing. “Yeah, this whole thing’s a mess.”
Following Brian’s lead, Edgar softened his tone—rare for him.
“Sony Columbia’s coming on strong, and we’re looking for a way to break through. Right now, we could use the company’s muscle to shift some industry leverage.”
Brian caught on instantly, jumping in with enthusiasm. “Absolutely, no problem. At a time like this, the whole company’s got Anson’s back, top to bottom.”
“Edgar, we need to seize this Warner Bros. opening. Anson heading there was a brilliant move. We’ve got to milk it—use Warner to pressure Sony Columbia. If Anson lands Bruce Wayne, it’ll be the biggest bombshell Hollywood’s seen in years.”
“Imagine it: Peter Parker turning into Bruce Wayne. Everyone’s jaws would hit the floor.”
“We’ve got to grab this chance. Trust me, all of William Morris is pouring everything into helping Anson. We’re all on the same team here.”
Brian’s voice rang with conviction, his eyes practically glowing with sincerity. Edgar almost bought it.
As embarrassing as it was to admit, Brian’s “acting” outshone his own. Looked like Edgar still had some learning to do.
Saying one thing, doing another—
Edgar knew the game, and he didn’t mind. Right now, he needed that surface-level support. At the very least, he wanted Hollywood—and all of North America—to see Sony Columbia’s hardball tactics for what they were. Even a legacy agency like William Morris was banding together in response.
Last summer, Sony Columbia had pushed too hard, and it was public pressure that finally reined them in, buying Anson some breathing room.
Now, Edgar needed people to realize:
No matter how big or dazzling Anson seemed, in the face of capital’s giant machine, he was still just one guy—small, insignificant, easily tossed aside, erased, ignored, or overlooked by Sony Columbia.
Anson Wood might look unstoppable, but he was vulnerable. He needed the support of millions of fans, needed people to come together and make the big shots hear their voices.
On the surface, at least, Edgar had to stir the pot and rally that public momentum again.
As for the behind-the-scenes power plays? That was a free-for-all—let’s see who comes out on top and gets the last laugh. This time, it’s trickier than last summer.
It didn’t take long for word to spread in Hollywood: William Morris was uniting from top to bottom to push for Anson, fighting for a history-making contract to lock him in for Spider-Man 3. If they pulled it off, it could shake up Hollywood’s order again, rewriting where actors stand in the industry.
Going by past patterns, Hollywood agencies might band together, forming a united front.
After all, like when Jim Carrey broke the $20 million barrier and made history, one actor’s win could crack the industry wide open for everyone. Agencies are all in the same boat, tied to shared interests. Right now, they’d naturally close ranks and face the fight together.
But this time, things were a little different.
Before the agencies could even react, Sony Columbia came out swinging. They called Anson’s salary demands outrageous, way beyond reason. The studios needed to cool off and reassess, they said. They respected Anson, liked him even—but they had their limits.
No surprise, the top-tier Hollywood studios all rallied together, jittery as hell: Was Anson stirring up trouble again?
Chapter 1508: Breaking New Ground
Talent agencies look out for actors’ interests, while production companies protect the interests of capital. When those two clash, it’s an industry showdown.
No surprise there—when the big Hollywood studios caught wind of the rumors, they didn’t hesitate to side with Sony Columbia, one after another.
The “$20 Million Club” was already a headache. Production costs kept climbing, making it tougher for producers, directors, and writers—the core creative team—to convince studios to greenlight their dream casts while keeping budgets in check.
And now, Anson was planning to push the boundaries even further?
It wasn’t just the studios—producers, directors, writers, and every behind-the-scenes crew member could feel the ripple effects. No one was immune.
Take Jim Carrey’s projects, for example. His $20 million paycheck was set in stone, no matter what the studio or crew was dealing with. So when budgets got slashed, everyone except Jim took the hit.
It’s that simple. Unless studios were willing to pump more money into production, the actors’ dominance came at everyone else’s expense.
Suddenly, Hollywood was buzzing with chatter.
But flip the coin, and the real impact only hit a small circle of bigwigs. For the average worker, pay was already low—when budgets got cut, the first to feel the axe were the high-profile producers, directors, and writers. Squeezing the little guy’s wages wouldn’t move the needle much.
In other words, regular folks could just sit back and watch the show.
Meanwhile, agencies like Creative Artists were pulling out all the stops, openly and quietly reaching out to Sony Columbia to snag the Peter Parker role. Spider-Man was a juicy prize, and everyone wanted a piece.
Young, struggling actors—barely on the radar—could feel the heatwave, all dreaming of being the next Anson, skyrocketing to fame overnight.
Unbelievably, Hollywood was thriving.
It was a chaotic, nonstop spectacle.
That’s the real truth behind Hollywood’s spotlight—a jungle where the weak get eaten, the fittest survive, and the air’s thick with blood.
Amid the frenzy, a few sharp minds picked up on something: Where was Anson?
The guy who should’ve been at the eye of the storm was oddly quiet.
Anyone who knew Anson could tell something was off. He wasn’t the type to sit back and take a beating in silence. Half of Hollywood was already riled up, with ambitious young guns convinced they could knock him off his throne. Yet Anson was nowhere to be found?
That’s not normal.
It felt like a calm sea—no breeze, no ripples—just an eerie stillness hinting at a storm brewing beneath, ready to unleash chaos.
Not just Anson—his agent Edgar, publicist Eve, assistant Noah, and even his brother Lucas were all tight-lipped, playing it mysterious.
Something wasn’t right.
Reporters tried calling them, dialing one by one, skipping voicemails, waiting until someone picked up.
But they all stuck to the same script. Sure, their tones varied slightly, but the message was calm and consistent:
“Anson’s deep in prep mode, focused on pulling off a surprise for the upcoming premiere. That’s his top priority right now.”
…That’s it?
The reporters were left scratching their heads, sensing something off but unable to pin it down.
Enter the paparazzi.
Anson was in New York—no secret there. He wasn’t exactly hiding, keeping a low profile but not vanishing like he used to.
Lately, his buddy Chris Evans was in town too. Chris was clearly going through a rough patch, and Anson stepped up—hanging out with him, keeping him busy:
In and out, always on the move.
Wait—busy with what?
The paparazzi had no clue. Anson was spending entire days holed up in Warner Records’ offices, completely shutting out prying eyes.
One crafty pap got a tip from an inside source at Warner Records, only to get a laughable response: the source asked them what Anson was up to because even the folks at Warner were in the dark, scrambling to figure out his project.
Out of options, the paparazzi swarmed Anson, flashing cameras in his face, hounding him for scraps of info.
But Anson and Chris played it cool, brushing off the attention. Surrounded by flashing lights, they hopped the subway, chatted with strangers, grabbed fries and burgers at a fast-food joint, and plopped down on a park bench to shoot the breeze—treating the paparazzi like just another part of New York’s daily grind.
Then the locals flipped the script, shooing the paparazzi away to shield Anson and Chris, leaving the photogs dumbfounded, wondering what just happened.
While all eyes were glued to Anson, Warner Bros. and Forest Films dropped a bombshell out of nowhere. In an instant, Hollywood’s noisy chaos went dead silent—like the hush after a mushroom cloud, where even the ringing in your ears fades.
Warner Bros. and Forest Films were teaming up for two projects: Sin City and The Hangover.
Forest Films was taking the lead, with Warner Bros. backing them up. Right now, Sin City was already shooting at Warner’s Burbank studios—
But here’s the kicker: the cast wasn’t even fully locked in yet.
Hollywood insiders were baffled. “No actors—what are they even doing in the studio?”
On top of that, Warner Bros. and Forest Films had a third project in the works: Children of Men.
It was officially greenlit, with Alfonso Cuarón directing and Anson set to star—his first gig since Walk the Line.
But for a moment, people couldn’t tell if it was a genre flick or an artsy piece. A veil of mystery hung over it all.
The film was in pre-production—scouting locations, casting—but no shooting schedule was set. Still, Warner Bros. casually let slip some inside info to show they meant business, offering Anson a historic deal:
$15 million plus 5% of North American box office profits.
Boom!
Hollywood reeled, jaws dropping, minds blown. Every thought and theory shattered in the shockwave.
For a minute, no one could even react.
While Sony Columbia hemmed and hawed, dragging their feet, Warner Bros. swooped in with gangster-level guts, making a bold, decisive move—
And just like that, they rewrote history again, turning a new page for Hollywood with effortless swagger.
(End of Chapter)
