Greenlight

"Ah, there's my CCO!" Dave said with a wide smile as I entered his office. He stood up from behind his desk, pulling me into a one-handed hug.

"Hello, head of DC Studios, David Rickman," I replied in the same tone, hugging him back.

I looked at him, smiling. "You look good, Dave. You did it."

"Thank you, Danny. I could've never gotten here without you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

After months of negotiations, planning, and setting things in motion, it was official: DC Studios was now a reality. Dave had been named the public head of the newly formed studio, while I was made the Chief Creative Officer, tasked with steering the creative direction of the DCU. Today, we had an important meeting with the greenlight committee, which was going to review the script for the first DCU movie, Batman.

"Well, head of the studio publicly, anyway," Dave added with a chuckle.

The decision to appoint Dave as head had come with an internal compromise. While Dave would be the public face of DC Studios, Victor Steele had been made co-head behind the scenes, his involvement kept quiet to maintain a balance of power within the company after the merger. It was a delicate setup to ensure both Stardust and Nebula felt represented.

"You're just as powerful as Victor in this arrangement, Dave," I reminded him. "You're leading DC Studios, and you've got my support—and Chris's, too. Soon, you're going to be a household name."

Dave chuckled modestly. "Sure, Danny."

He walked back to his desk, scanning the documents piled on top. "I'm still wrapping my head around how fast we finished the Batman script. I mean, you and Nolan were like a machine."

Leaning against the desk, I explained, "Well, Nolan had already written most of it years ago. We just had to make a few adjustments to fit it into the larger universe we're building, so it wasn't too hard."

The most significant changes I made to the Batman Begins script revolved around balancing Nolan's grounded, hyper-realistic vision with the fantastical elements necessary for building a larger DC Universe.

Nolan originally imagined Batman existing in a world much like our own—where his gadgets, methods, and motivations were rooted in a plausible, tangible reality. While that approach worked brilliantly as a standalone film, it wouldn't fit the larger universe we were building, which included superheroes, mystical elements, and otherworldly threats. So, I had to convince Nolan to tone down the hyper-realism in certain areas while keeping the integrity of his vision intact.

One of the most crucial changes was to Ra's al Ghul. In Nolan's original script, Ra's was depicted as a revolutionary, more grounded in reality—a man with extreme views who sought to purify the world through destruction. He was essentially just a man. But for the DCU, Ra's needed to be much more than that.

We made Ra's closer to his comic book counterpart—an immortal figure whose longevity is granted by the Lazarus Pits, mystical pools that allow him to live for centuries. The idea of the Lazarus Pits introduced the concept of magic and the supernatural to the film. It also gave Ra's a more complex and layered personality, as his immortality came with the side effect of occasional madness.

His motivations became a blend of Nolan's original idea and the comic version. Ra's al Ghul in this script is focused on purging the world of corruption, not the bring balance to the environment thing he had in the comics. His methods were born out of centuries of experience and the belief that only he could bring balance to a decaying world.

Another key change was in his relationship with Bruce Wayne. Instead of just being a mentor-turned-enemy, Ra's had a more personal connection with Bruce. He didn't just want to train him to be an assassin; Ra's saw Bruce as a potential successor to lead the League of Shadows. Ra's admired Bruce for his strength, intellect, and sense of justice, believing that Bruce was the only person capable of continuing his mission. This gave their conflict deeper emotional stakes. Bruce's rejection of Ra's wasn't just a philosophical disagreement—it was a betrayal of the trust and bond they had formed during Bruce's training.

Ra's had taught Bruce the art of fear, how to use justice as a weapon, and gave him the tools to become Batman. However, Bruce's refusal to embrace the League's methods of mass destruction set them on opposite paths. This change kept the personal rivalry intact but expanded on the comic-accurate vision of Ra's al Ghul as a villain.

Aside from introducing Ra's al Ghul's immortality and reshaping his relationship with Bruce, I also added subtle mentions of the wider DC Universe. These were meant to be hints—references to other characters, organizations, or events that would eventually tie into future movies.

Ultimately, those were the major adjustments I made. Other than that, the core of Nolan's Batman Begins script remained unchanged. Nolan was confident he could still deliver the grounded, character-driven narrative he was known for while incorporating these subtle but crucial changes to fit the broader DCU.

"We lucked out, then," Dave said, relaxing a little. He sat down and asked, "So, what do you think of the script overall? Is it ready?"

"It's great," I said, nodding confidently. "I'm happy with it. Nolan's version was brilliant. I added what needed to be added. He's going to bring Batman to life in a way that sets the tone for the rest of the universe."

Dave looked relieved. He trusted my judgment when it came to the creative aspects, and that trust was essential, especially with what we were trying to achieve.

"Alright, let's hope the committee sees it the same way."

"Who else is on the greenlight committee, other than us and Victor?" I asked.

"Thompson, Andrews, and Green," Dave replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "Thompson's going to be a bump in the road, for sure."

Becky Thompson, the CFO, had been skeptical about the ambitious plans for the DC Universe from the start. She wasn't convinced that a shared universe would pay off in the long run, and she had concerns about the budget we'd be requesting for Batman.

"Yeah," Dave laughed, "she definitely won't appreciate the overall budget we're asking for."

I leaned forward with a smile. "Don't worry, I've got a plan."

.

.

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It was finally time for the meeting. It was being held in one of the conference rooms on the top floor, the atmosphere exactly what you'd expect in a room full of people who handled millions of dollars daily. Everyone in the room was dressed in sharp, tailored suits—corporate men and women dressed to assert their power.

Becky Thompson, the CFO, sat at the far end of the table, wearing a charcoal-gray blazer over a crisp white blouse, her expression as stern as always. Victor Steele, the co-head and COO, sat on the opposite side, his dark suit as perfectly pressed as his smile was calculated. Vivian Andrews and Oliver Green, two senior executives, both nodded as Dave and I walked in.

We greeted each other politely before sitting down. The table was long, made of mahogany polished to a shine, with glasses of water set in front of each person.

After a brief moment of settling in, the discussion began. It was formal at first, as everyone weighed in on the script.

"It's a solid script," Andrews said, flipping through the pages. "Mr. Adler and Mr. Nolan have done a fantastic job. Although I wasn't completely sold on this project at first, now I feel like there's something here."

Green nodded in agreement. "I think this could be a huge success. My analysts tell me Mr. Adler's cinematic universe idea could make us billions."

I smiled. "So, we're agreed, then?" I asked, sensing we were close to getting a unanimous nod.

But Becky Thompson leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed. "Not quite," she said. "I still have reservations about the budget. One hundred fifty million is too much for this."

I glanced at Dave, who raised an eyebrow, already anticipating a pushback.

"The studio can handle it easily," I said confidently. "We're talking about Batman here—one of the most iconic characters in pop culture. We need to do this right, and that requires the budget."

Becky remained unmoved, her gaze unwavering. "It's not just about handling it now. You say 150 million, but when the budget is finalized, it's going to balloon beyond that. We all know how this works," she said, her voice steady. "I want a budget under 100 million."

Before I could respond, Victor interjected smoothly, leaning forward in his chair. "Perhaps there's room for compromise here. Maybe we can meet somewhere in between."

Becky shook her head, her tone firm. "No. I'm adamant. This movie doesn't need that kind of money. We've seen Marvel do it for far less."

"That was a decade ago, Miss Thompson," I said, trying to keep my tone firm but respectful. "Iron Man, which was released recently, cost about the same as what we're asking for."

Becky remained unfazed, her arms crossed over her chest. "We're a new company, Mr. Adler. You're young, and this is all still new to you. We can't afford to take a risk like this."

It was clear that Becky wasn't going to budge easily. That meant I needed to reveal the ace I had up my sleeve. I leaned back slightly, giving her and the rest of the room a measured look.

"Actually," I began, "there's something that might change your mind. Something that will benefit not just DC Studios, but Stardust as a whole."

Victor raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What is it, Daniel?"

"I've recently acquired the rights from Stephen King for 'It'," I said.

The room went dead silent. Eyes widened, and suddenly, everyone was paying very close attention. Victor's calm demeanor shifted to one of intrigue, while even Becky seemed momentarily taken aback.

"As you know," I continued, "I've already made one very successful horror film with The Blair Witch Project. Imagine what we can do with an established character like Pennywise the Clown. The potential is massive."

Becky leaned forward slightly, her skepticism giving way to genuine interest. "You own the rights to 'It'?"

I nodded. "That's right. And the money we could make from this would be significant. Now, bear in mind, I own the rights, not the studio. But, I'm open to discussing a deal. If Stardust doesn't want to get on board... well, I'm sure there are other studios that would love to."

Oliver Green, always quick to react, immediately interjected. "You can't just dangle that over us."

I smiled slightly, keeping my composure. "I'm not 'dangling' anything. I'm offering an opportunity. Like Victor said, we're all here to compromise."

The room shifted again as everyone considered the implications. Even Becky seemed to soften as the potential financial upside of this new deal began to sink in.

Becky's eyes narrowed as she weighed the options. "Alright. I'm willing to compromise. Let's keep Batman's budget closer to 150 million, but I want strict oversight to ensure it doesn't go overboard."

Victor nodded, satisfied. "That seems fair."

"And in return," I added, "I'll negotiate with Stardust to produce 'It' under the studio's banner."

Becky sighed, but after a moment of silence, she finally nodded. "Agreed."

With that, the deal was struck. The Batman movie was officially greenlit, and It was now on the table for Stardust Studios. We had found a way to move forward, one step closer to building the future of the DC Universe.