A few days later, Zane was in his new office, and the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife.
He was in a war council with the two men he trusted most: Condy Edward, his shark of a negotiator, and his buttoned-up corporate lawyer.
The news was not good.
"It's not just about the money, Zane," Condy said, and for the first time since Zane had met him, the man's usual, insufferable smirk was gone. He just looked grim. "The leadership at Marvel is a snake pit, and the whole situation is… complicated."
His lawyer, a man who charged a thousand dollars an hour to be pessimistic, elaborated. "It's a legal minefield, Zane. The rights to Spider-Man have a history so tangled and absurd it's almost comical. They've been sold, re-sold, claimed, and counter-claimed by so many different companies over the last ten years that 'ownership' is a complete mess. And now," he said, sliding two thick folders across the polished desk, "two of the original claimants have caught wind of a potential sale."
"MGM. And Sony's Columbia Pictures."
Zane felt his stomach drop. A cold, sick feeling washed over him. This wasn't a simple acquisition. He wasn't just walking into a store to buy something. He was walking into a war that had already started. A three-way battle against two of the most powerful, ruthless, and well-funded giants in Hollywood.
Wald Pictures wasn't even a minnow swimming with sharks. It was chum.
"So, we're outgunned," Zane stated, his voice flat. It wasn't a question.
"Financially? God, yes," Condy admitted, running a hand over his face. "They can, and will, just try to out-spend us. But we have one advantage."
Zane looked up, his eyes narrowing.
"Speed," Condy said, a flicker of the old shark returning. "We're already at the table. We can force the issue, create chaos, and close the deal before they can fully mobilize their massive corporate legal teams. We can be a scalpel while they're still trying to aim the cannon."
Zane leaned forward, the fear very real, a cold knot in his gut. But the ambition was stronger. He knew what this meant. Offending MGM and Sony wasn't a small thing. They could blackball him. They could bury his films, interfere with his distribution, smear him in the trades, and make his life a living hell for the next decade.
The prize was worth the risk.
"I don't care who they are," Zane said, his voice cold and hard, all emotion gone. "This is a war. And we're going to win it. Get back to Marvel. Do whatever it takes. Burn them to the ground if you have to."
The next ten days were not a "blur." They were a knife fight in a dark, confined space. It was a brutal, sleepless, back-channel war. Condy was a savage, playing the three parties against each other, feeding misinformation, driving a wedge between the factions in Marvel's fractured leadership, and creating an atmosphere of such pure, unadulterated chaos that only he could navigate it.
And then, the dust settled.
Zane had won.
The price was a punch to the gut: nine million dollars. Two million more than he had ever wanted to pay, but the victory was absolute. The contract gave Wald Pictures the perpetual, exclusive film rights to Spider-Man and all his related characters—Venom, Doctor Octopus, the Green Goblin, all of them.
But Zane, a student of history, had insisted on one final, non-negotiable clause.
He'd studied how Marvel, in a bitter dispute with 20th Century Fox, had systematically turned the Fantastic Four into villains in their own comics. They'd literally killed them off, sabotaging the film franchise's source material out of pure, childish spite.
Zane would not allow that to happen to him.
His clause gave Wald Pictures final veto power over any significant, material changes to Spider-Man's character or storyline in any future Marvel comics. He now controlled the character's destiny, both on the page and on the screen. It was an unprecedented, unheard-of level of control. It made the extra two million feel like a bargain.
The victory, however, was immediately overshadowed by a cold, new, terrifying reality.
After the nine-million-dollar wire transfer cleared, Zane checked his liquid cash balance. He had just over three million dollars left.
He owned the single most valuable superhero IP in the world... but he was now a king without a kingdom, lacking the hundreds of millions of dollars required to actually bring Spider-Man to the big screen.
One problem at a time, he told himself that night, trying to keep the panic from setting in. First, you secure the asset.
As if on cue, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Unknown.
He picked it up.
"Am I speaking with Zane Blackwood?" The voice was... unfriendly. It dripped with the lazy, condescending, old-money tone of someone who had never been told "no" in their life.
"You are," Zane replied, his own voice turning chilly.
"My name is Kenta Dwight. I'm the Deputy Production Manager at MGM Pictures."
Ah. Zane already knew what this was.
"And what can I do for you, Mr. Dwight?"
"I'll be direct," the man said, as if "directness" was a favor he was granting. "We know you've acquired the Spider-Man property. MGM is prepared to... take it off your hands. We'll even let you make a small profit for your troubles. We're offering nine-point-one million dollars. That's a quick hundred thousand for you. You can't say fairer than that."
Zane was silent. He was silent for so long, the man on the other end almost spoke again. He wasn't in shock. He was in a state of genuine, baffled amusement. A hundred thousand?
He finally let out a short, cold, sharp laugh.
"$100,000?" Zane replied, his voice dangerously calm. "Mr. Dwight, I have to ask... are you drunk, or do you simply not understand the asset you're trying to buy? The answer... is no."
There was a sputter on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, I don't think you understand who you're dealing with..."
"And I don't think you understand who you're trying to lowball," Zane cut him off, all the fake politeness gone. "Let me be direct as well. Go to bed, Kenta. You're wasting my time."
He hung up the phone before Dwight could respond.
MGM. A dinosaur. A name that hadn't been relevant in decades, a studio surviving on the fumes of James Bond. They thought their dusty, old-Hollywood name still meant something.
Zane smirked, looking out his office window at the lights of Burbank.
One day, he thought, the idea a small, cold, satisfying promise to himself. When I have the money... the very first thing I'll do is buy your crumbling studio... and turn it into a parking lot.
===============================
100 Power Stone = 1 Bonus Chapter
Send me some powerstone.
https://www.patreon.com/c/kapa69
In it you will get all my fanfics.
Want to read 105+ chapters ahead? Support me on Patreon! And here by donating powerstone
for every 100 power stone I will drop a bonus chapter.