Chapter 898: DC Conflict Breaks Out!

Inside the dimly lit post-production studio at Disney, the glow of multi-screen monitors cast an eerie light over the room. Martin, the director, stood with his hands resting on the desk, headphones snug over his ears. His eyes were locked onto the screen, where the scene unfolded, a clown, wild-eyed and disheveled, running frantically down a dark alley. The tension in the scene was palpable, but something wasn't right.

"Stop!" Martin suddenly barked, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the studio.

Dawson, the sound editor, immediately tapped the pause button, halting the scene mid-chaos. Martin tugged off his headphones, his brows furrowed in thought, and glanced at Steve Downton, the assistant director, standing beside him.

"There's something off with the soundtrack here," Martin said, his tone measured, but frustrated.

Steve shrugged, glancing at the frozen image on the screen. "It's... standard. Not bad, but not exceptional either."

Martin nodded slowly, then leaned in, his voice quieter now, as if speaking to himself. "These clowns aren't just performers. They're trapped, stuck at the bottom of society, suffocated by their circumstances, facing a cruel world. The music should reflect that."

Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Do you want to rework it? Or swap in something else?"

Before Martin could answer, Dawson, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Director, what if we added a new background track? Something that captures the emotion of the scene."

Martin's gaze shifted toward Dawson, appreciating the suggestion. Dawson wasn't just any sound editor; he had years of experience and a deep understanding of how music could transform a scene. "Do you have something in mind?"

Dawson smiled knowingly. He had anticipated this moment. "I do. There's a piece that fits perfectly with this chaotic, emotional scene 'Bohemian Rhapsody.'"

Martin blinked, the title jogging his memory. "Queen?"

Dawson nodded. "Exactly. It has that raw, operatic intensity, especially in scenes like this."

Steve's eyes widened slightly as he imagined it. The words of the iconic song echoed in his head, syncing effortlessly with the image of the clown running, spiraling into madness. "Shall we give it a shot?"

Martin didn't hesitate. "Let's try it."

With a few swift clicks, Dawson downloaded the song and began reworking the audio, layering in "Bohemian Rhapsody" over the scene, carefully syncing the crescendos and lulls with the visual beats. Martin and Steve waited, anticipation hanging thick in the air. Finally, Dawson motioned for them to put their headsets back on.

The video played again. The clown was back, sprinting through the desolate streets, but this time, the familiar, haunting notes of "Bohemian Rhapsody" filled the room. Freddie Mercury's voice rose, carrying the weight of the scene.

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?"

As the clown was chased and cornered by the mob, the powerful lyrics melded with the image, the despair and madness growing in tandem with the music. The camera zoomed in on his face, his smeared makeup, his desperate eyes.

"I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy…"

The clown fell to the ground, beaten and battered, his body convulsing as he struggled to escape the merciless crowd.

"Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…"

When the scene ended, there was a brief, charged silence. Martin took off his headphones, exhaling slowly. "That… feels better."

Steve nodded in agreement, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "A lot better. It captures his desperation."

Martin turned to Dawson, his expression more focused now. "The tone is still a bit high. Bring it down, make it darker, more subdued."

"Got it," Dawson replied, scribbling a note on his pad. "There's another scene I think we can improve too."

Martin gestured for him to continue. "Let's hear it."

Dawson queued up the next clip. This time, it was the Joker's spiraling descent into his own twisted mind, following his first taste of murder. The original score had felt flat, but as the music swelled again, this time another section of "Bohemian Rhapsody" it added an almost tragic weight to the moment.

On screen, the Joker, his face now cold and emotionless, returned to his dingy apartment. His mother sat in the corner, unaware of the man he had become. The camera zoomed in on his haunted expression as Freddie's voice cut through the silence.

"Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead…"

The song's melancholic tone swirled with the Joker's anguish, his isolation. As the music built, the scene became more than just a man confronting his mother, it became a haunting internal struggle, his grip on reality slowly slipping away.

As the final notes echoed in the studio, Martin and Steve sat in quiet reflection. This was more than just a soundtrack; it was the heartbeat of the character's descent into chaos. Martin finally spoke, his voice low but sure. "This is it. This is the feeling we need."

Steve smiled. "Freddie Mercury never disappoints."

Martin nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. "We're on the right track. Let's keep going."

Martin nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on the screen as the last notes of "Bohemian Rhapsody" faded into silence. The song, with its dramatic shifts and emotional depth, aligned perfectly with the tone of the scenes. It wasn't just a great fit for the character's chaotic journey, but also had a nostalgic pull that could resonate deeply with audiences.

"There's something about the nostalgia of it," Martin said, half to himself. "It'll connect with people, the same way it did when Marvel used classic tracks in 'Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2.' Those songs weren't just background music, they were essential to the experience. It could be the same for us here."

Steve nodded, understanding the potential. That nostalgic appeal had proven powerful before, and if they could capture even a fraction of that emotional connection, it could elevate the film to new heights.

The temporary music edits were still rough, but Martin knew they were on the right track. He turned to Dawson. "Let's tighten up those tracks, re-edit the sound effects, and polish it until it's seamless. Once it's ready, we'll give it another review."

Dawson nodded in agreement but added a word of caution. "You know we'll need to get authorization for the public release, right? 'Bohemian Rhapsody' isn't cheap."

Martin was already ahead of him. Copyright wasn't going to be an issue; it just meant paying the price. "Steve," he said, turning to his assistant director, "reach out and get the authorization for the song. Let's make this official."

Steve smirked. "I'll have Michael handle that. He's good with these things."

With that settled, Martin took a deep breath and stepped out of the studio, making his way back to his office. The work in the editing bay was done for now, but his mind was already shifting to the next challenge on his plate.

Not long after he settled at his desk, the door creaked open. Louise, his trusted producer, slipped in and sat across from him, her expression a mix of curiosity and something else, something intriguing.

"I've got some news," she said, wasting no time. "DC's officially reached out to Joss Whedon."

Martin raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "They're bringing Whedon onto the 'Justice League' project?"

Louise leaned forward. "It seems that way. They had a closed-door meeting, so we don't have all the details yet, but it looks like Whedon's being considered to replace Zack Snyder."

Martin frowned, processing the implications. "Is Snyder willing to step down?"

Louise shook her head. "No director wants to walk away this late in the game. If Whedon takes over, we're not just talking about minor changes. There will be massive reshoots, and Snyder could lose his director's credit altogether."

She paused, then added, "Unless, of course, Warner offers a significant payout. That might convince him to step aside."

Martin leaned back in his chair, mulling it over. "If this falls apart, it's going to be Warner's mess. The risks are huge."

Louise smiled knowingly. "That's true… but only if 'Justice League' flops."

Martin's expression darkened slightly. "They're switching directors mid-production, possibly overhauling the entire film. What are the chances this goes smoothly? Not great." He rubbed his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If things aren't chaotic enough, maybe we stir the pot a little more."

Louise's smile widened. She knew exactly where Martin was going. "You know I'm with you, whatever you decide."

They both understood the stakes. Martin had been in a long-standing feud with Warner Bros., one that had escalated since Jon Berg's resignation. There were still powerful players at Warner, and some were too close for comfort. If Martin wasn't careful, the tables could turn on him.

"We can't let Snyder walk away quietly," Martin said after a moment of thought. "We need to make sure this becomes a bigger issue."

He picked up his phone and dialed Thomas, a close ally who was well-versed in the politics of Hollywood. Thomas was nearby, already at Disney Studios on business, and arrived at Martin's office within minutes.

After explaining the situation, Martin looked at him expectantly. "Think you can make some waves?"

Thomas smiled confidently. "Easily. I've got a good relationship with Zack Snyder's agent. I'll drop a few hints, remind them of what's at stake."

Martin nodded, satisfied. "Don't overplay it, just give them a nudge. Let them know it's in their best interest not to back down without a fight."

Thomas chuckled. "Consider it done. Snyder's agent is no stranger to conflict. They'll see this as an opportunity to leverage some serious compensation from Warner."

The plan was set in motion. Martin knew Hollywood agents operated in tight circles, and Thomas, ever the savvy player, had long built a rapport with key figures, including Snyder's agent, Fisher. He had made those connections back when 'Man of Steel' was released, never expecting them to come in handy. Now, though, it was the perfect time to cash in on those relationships.

"Once this gets rolling, it won't just be a director swap. Warner and DC will have to dig deep to smooth this over. They won't walk away clean," Martin said, his voice low but certain.

Thomas stood up, ready to make his move. "I'll handle it. They'll push back, and Warner will have no choice but to escalate."

As Thomas left the room, Louise watched Martin closely. "You really think this will tip the scales?"

Martin smirked. "It's Hollywood. Nothing stays simple for long. Let's see how much more complicated we can make it for them."

In the sleek, modern coffee shop at Century City Plaza, the gentle hum of conversation filled the air. Fisher, Zack Snyder's agent, casually stirred sugar into his coffee, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced across the table at Thomas.

"So, what's the occasion?" Fisher asked, still stirring. "You don't usually have time for a casual coffee."

Thomas leaned forward, his tone direct, wasting no time. "I've got some insider news about your top client, Zack Snyder."

Fisher's stirring slowed, his curiosity piqued. "Isn't that between Zack and Warner Bros.?"

"Not exactly," Thomas replied, his voice lowering slightly. "This involves DC directly. Geoff Johns, their guy on the 'Justice League' project, has reached out to Joss Whedon."

Fisher's eyebrows raised, the significance of the name immediately registering. Geoff Johns had been a pivotal figure in DC's oversight of 'Justice League'. And Joss Whedon? His name carried weight, especially after his success with Marvel's 'Avengers'. Fisher pieced it together quickly, DC was considering a major change.

"They're thinking of bringing Whedon in to replace Zack?" Fisher asked, more of a statement than a question, his hand frozen mid-stir.

Thomas nodded. "It looks that way."

The gravity of the situation hit Fisher like a cold wave. He put his spoon down, threw a couple of dollars on the table, and stood up abruptly. "Thanks for the heads-up. I've got to handle this."

Thomas gave him a knowing nod. "Go. Do what you've got to do."

Without another word, Fisher bolted out of the coffee shop, his mind racing. As he stepped into the bright California sun, he pulled out his phone and dialed Zack Snyder.

"Zack, where are you?" he asked urgently.

"In the studio at Warner. Why?"

"Stay there. Don't move. I'm on my way, and bring Deborah with you. This is important."

Fisher jumped into his car and sped off toward Warner Studios, his mind running through possible strategies. If Snyder were in the same league as Thomas's client, Martin Davis, this wouldn't be such a fight. Martin had clout, his films dominated Hollywood, giving him leverage Snyder simply didn't have at the moment.

'Batman v Superman' had been a major setback, undoing much of the goodwill Snyder had built with 'Man of Steel'. The studio's confidence had been shaken, and now, with the stakes so high on 'Justice League', it was clear that Snyder was on shaky ground. Warner might not be the titan it once was, but it was still powerful enough to bulldoze through directors if they deemed it necessary.

But Fisher wasn't about to let Snyder be dismissed quietly.

When Fisher arrived at Warner Studios, Zack Snyder and his wife, Deborah, were waiting for him outside. Deborah, always the practical one and a fierce advocate for her husband's work, stood with arms crossed, clearly sensing what was coming.

Fisher didn't mince words. "They've contacted Joss Whedon. It looks like they're planning to replace you."

Zack's face was impassive, though his eyes darkened. "I've had that feeling for weeks now," he said softly, his voice steady but with a hint of resignation.

Fisher leaned in, his voice calm but urgent. "What's your take?"

Zack shrugged slightly. "I'm just the director."

Deborah, though, wasn't having it. "Just the director?" She looked between the two men, her eyes fierce. "Zack has brought Warner Bros. over a billion dollars since '300'. And now they want to kick him out like he's disposable?"

Zack looked to his agent, knowing Fisher's experience would guide them. "What do you think we should do?"

Fisher, ever the realist, was blunt. "If Warner and DC want to replace you, there's nothing we can do to stop them. But they've got to do it by the book, according to the contract. They can't just push you out."

Zack remained quiet for a moment, processing the situation. The truth of Fisher's words was unavoidable, but it still stung.

Deborah squeezed her husband's hand, stepping in with the calm resolve she was known for. "Let them worry about replacing you. Zack, you focus on the directing. Fisher and I will handle everything else."

Zack nodded, reassured by her strength. "Alright. Let's do it."

Fisher looked at them both, his voice firm. "Keep me in the loop on everything. Whatever happens, I need to know immediately."

As they began to discuss their next moves, the studio was already buzzing with rumors. Elsewhere in town, another key player in this unfolding drama, Bruce, had just finished an otherwise uneventful date. Despite the discomfort from an old injury, Bruce wasted no time. He pulled out his phone, dialing Jody, his most reliable contact in the entertainment industry.

"We've got a situation at Warner," Bruce said, his voice low as he relayed the information about Snyder, DC, and the possible shake-up involving Joss Whedon.

Jody listened carefully, his mind already working on the next steps. "I'll call my team," he said, his voice firm with purpose. "We need to be ready for whatever comes next."

Back at Warner Studios, the wheels were in motion. Fisher knew this battle wasn't just about keeping Zack Snyder on the film, it was about ensuring that his client's reputation and legacy weren't tarnished. Whatever Warner and DC had planned, they would have to face not only the Snyders but the full weight of Hollywood's intricate web of agents and insiders, all fighting for their piece of the pie.

That evening, TMZ dropped a bombshell that rippled across the entire North American entertainment industry. The headline blazed across their homepage in bold, eye-catching letters:

"Breaking News! 'Justice League' Set for a Director Shake-Up!"

The article quickly went viral, shocking movie fans and insiders alike:

"After two internal screenings, Warner Bros. and DC executives have expressed severe dissatisfaction with Zack Snyder's cut of 'Justice League'. In a dramatic turn of events, they've reached out to Joss Whedon, the mastermind behind 'The Avengers', and are planning to replace Snyder with Whedon to oversee the film's final stages."

If this news had involved another major Hollywood studio, it might have been dismissed as mere gossip or a rumor. But Warner Bros.? No one was surprised. Their impulsive and erratic decisions had become legendary in the industry over the past few years.

As soon as the news broke, Warner and DC's top brass were furious. The plan had been to keep the transition quiet, to replace Snyder with as little fanfare as possible. But TMZ's explosive revelation had derailed their carefully laid plans, throwing the entire studio into a panic.

Kevin Tsujihara, Warner Bros. CEO at the time, decided it was time to act decisively. He instructed Walter Hamada to expedite the process, making the switch official before any more damage could be done. The goal was simple: wrap up production and get 'Justice League' in theaters by the end of the year, as scheduled.

But things didn't go as smoothly as they'd hoped. When the crew initiated the director's exit process, Zack Snyder refused to take a direct meeting. Instead, he left negotiations to his agent and his wife, Deborah Snyder, who was also a producer on the project. Both of them took a firm stance: the Snyders were willing to step aside, but only if DC paid the full amount of their contract's liquidated damages, every last dollar.

To make matters worse, the cast wasn't standing idly by. Behind the scenes, all six lead actors had privately voiced their support for Snyder, complicating the studio's attempt to transition smoothly. Several of the cast members, particularly those who represented underrepresented communities, an African-American actor, a lesbian actress, and a Jewish lead, spoke out publicly, adding social pressure to the already mounting internal conflict.

Joss Whedon, who was now poised to take over the project, was watching everything unfold. With two successful 'Avengers' films under his belt, Whedon had his own vision for the movie and it wasn't a continuation of Snyder's dark and brooding style. He didn't want to be seen as simply finishing someone else's work. Whedon laid down his terms to Warner and DC: extensive reshoots, a complete overhaul of Snyder's editing, and a shift toward a more lighthearted and comedic tone.

The cost for Whedon's proposed reshoots? A staggering $60 million. He also demanded that much of Snyder's original creative team be dismissed, replacing them with his own trusted crew to finish the job.

Warner Bros. found themselves caught in a storm of chaos. The internal strife over 'Justice League' was now fully exposed. The project, once envisioned as a grand culmination of the DC Extended Universe, was spiraling into a costly mess.

But if Warner Bros. had one thing going for them, it was their ability to act quickly when necessary. They recognized the project was slipping out of control, so they made a bold decision: they paid Zack and Deborah Snyder, along with their entire original team, the full amount of their liquidated damages, clearing them out of the production entirely. The Snyders were officially done with 'Justice League'.

With Snyder and his team out of the picture, Warner turned their focus entirely to Whedon. They agreed to every one of his conditions and cut him a massive check to bring his team onboard. Between the reshoots, liquidated damages, and the new crew's pay, the studio's costs for 'Justice League' ballooned by an additional $100 million.

Hollywood couldn't believe it. Warner Bros.' decision-making stunned everyone. The studio's sheer determination to reshape 'Justice League', no matter the cost, had left industry insiders dumbfounded.

At the official signing ceremony for Whedon's new team, he addressed the press, announcing sweeping changes to the film. There would be extensive reshoots, and the tone of the movie would shift significantly. Gone was the dark, gritty aesthetic that had defined Snyder's DC universe. Whedon promised a more upbeat, entertaining film, one that leaned into humor and lighter moments.

But this announcement did little to sway the already divided fanbase. DC's core fans, who had embraced Snyder's darker vision for the franchise, were enraged. Many took to social media to express their disdain for the new direction, some even vowing to boycott the film entirely. To them, this wasn't just a change in leadership, it was a betrayal of the DC tone they had grown to love.

Meanwhile, more casual moviegoers adopted a wait-and-see approach. They were intrigued by the idea of a Whedon-led 'Justice League' but remained cautious, uncertain if the drastic changes would ultimately pay off.

As the dust settled, one thing was clear: 'Justice League' was no longer just a movie. It had become a battleground of creative control, fan loyalty, and studio politics, a film caught between two drastically different visions. All of Hollywood was watching to see how it would end.