Billy took Nora to one of Marvel's meetings in New York City. She took in the construction, the discreet back entrance—everything looked like something out of a fantasy—but he calmly explained a few details.
–Negotiations can be distant, sometimes just plain strange. Nothing beyond what you'd expect from a meeting with an actor, a producer, or a city contract. In these rooms, it's power that defines the comfort of the relationship's beginning. A person tends to be more receptive when they believe they're negotiating against someone of higher or equal status. It all comes down to the illusion that you're better than they are. –Billy remarked.
–Quite the taste of reality. –murmured Nora.
It had all started as an idea born from a conversation between Winona and Monica—how Billy used her presence to elevate his deals to new heights. Monica explained how a beautiful woman raises a man's status merely by being beside him. When he took her out, he bought her fine jewelry and designer dresses. A simple meeting, a lunch over pasta, turned into something that money couldn't measure—a subtle hook in the art of negotiation. That thought sparked Nora's curiosity; she was certain that, at times, she had considered such dynamics in her films, but never quite this way.
When they asked Billy if he had any meetings lined up, he did. For months, a massive building had been under construction in one of Manhattan's prime areas. Billy's plan was to merge three divisions—Marvel Comics, Marvel Films, and Pixar New York—with Lux and Toys, a high-end toy store chain that had become a haven for collectible figures, board games, and children's toys, supported by contracts with Mattel and Hasbro. The company was evolving into a kind of cult toy emporium, intertwined with sci-fi and fantasy books distributed by Tor Books.
–I'm going to buy copyrights, Nora. –Billy said. –We have money, and money has to be invested. I want to acquire rights from independent authors—use the funds and the licenses to fuel my creative business. Something far more valuable than money is having people who know how to make it for you. Everyone falls into the trap of believing a company should only care about profit, but that's not true. It's the ladder that makes money vital. Once you reach the top, it's about staying there—and building another ladder. –
They arrived on the third floor, where a renowned comic book writer awaited them—a man known for being selective about what he would and wouldn't license.
–A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moore. –Billy greeted, shaking hands with the British author, a man with a long beard and a wide-brimmed hat, eccentric in every sense.
–Mr. Carson, your name carries weight in the comic world. I've read your work on Real and Slam Dunk. I'm not much of a basketball fan, but the quality is astonishing—truly superior. –
–How nice of you to say so. I've always admired your work—it's simply magnificent. To make something profoundly philosophical without losing its creative and literary soul is a dream few authors ever achieve in their own creations. –Billy replied.
Their handshake was firm, eyes locked. Billy was now appealing to Moore's sense of purpose.
–Everyone's told me that working with you is genuinely rewarding. –said Alan Moore.
Billy studied the older man for a good five seconds, then smiled and tapped his finger on the table.
–I want you to own your work—and make me money while making yourself rich. –said Billy. –I know you've had several issues with DC Comics over rights. I want to establish a collective partnership that ushers in a new era of copyright management. –
Nora watched silently.
–It's simple. You'll work with me. I run a foundation that helps new independent authors through graphic development support, financial aid, academic benefits, scholarships for their children, and health insurance. –Billy explained, handing him a brochure outlining how his organization operated.
The system was straightforward: he invested in writers for two years—a probationary period marked by contests and evaluations organized by industry veterans. The goal was to write short stories, novels, or scripts during those two years, with monthly stipends of £2,000, €2,100, or $2,500, plus healthcare, food vouchers, and financial aid for dependents.
The program was mainly funded by Billy himself, though many established authors also contributed, grateful to give back to struggling writers who had once been in their place.
–That's the opening hook. But we have another branch of interests—20% profit sharing, full creative freedom, creative licenses for our characters, and unified related rights in revenue. –Billy said, handing him a second brochure—the one they called the major offer.
–You've signed many of my friends that way. –Alan Moore remarked, knowing well that Frank Miller had already joined Lux Comics, along with Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis, and Robert Crumb.
–They told me about the deal. Yours is yours, mine is mine—but you include a license clause. You seek cooperation, respect for the arts and the authors, regardless of status. –said Alan, intrigued by a company that seemed designed to pamper its writers. Everyone wanted to work for Marvel—something DC could hardly tolerate. But of course, he also knew that the money nearly balanced itself; Billy's ventures demanded heavy spending, yet the enterprise's recovery and sustainability were undeniable.
–What they didn't tell you, because it's confidential, is the artist's price. I want to sign you for fifteen years—to mentor the next generation of writers and breathe life into my company. –Billy said, handing him a check for $100,000—his gateway to America, to a good life. And with his accumulated earnings, it was all quite simple. Once they opened a branch in England, the story would take a new turn.
It was all about confidentiality, though few in the industry truly understood the subtle administrative details behind such agreements.
–We're a community, Alan. I'm sure that with you on board, we'll keep this initiative alive—as long as you help me. –Billy said, knowing that, for better or worse, it was wiser to fish with good bait than wait for scraps.
Nora observed every detail—it was like watching two birds puff up their chests in an unfamiliar courtship dance, eyes fixed on each other, hardly blinking, moving, or even breathing. So much was said in that silent exchange. Billy wanted Moore to join so his vast library could grow. It was simple—the licenses would always hold the same value, regardless of success, with a 5% bonus guarantee and salaries that would always be paid.
Billy understood that every writer longed for recognition. That's why the greats had statues at the front—Stan Lee, John Romita Sr., and Jack Kirby were immortalized in Marvel's halls, their photos and stories displayed like a hall of fame—details that mattered.
–I'll think about it. –Alan replied.
–Of course. Call your contact; there are a few reservations under my name for you to enjoy the city. –Billy said, covering everything: Moore's family lodging, restaurant meals, and gifts for his children—who were nearly young adults by now.
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