Daredevil

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19th November 1996 (Tuesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"So…"

"Hmm?"

"I was scrolling through the channels, when I chanced upon your little stint on 'Nocturnal Banter'... You had any plans on telling me?" My father 'asked'.

"Honestly?" I started, "I was gonna tell you yesterday, but you kept mentioning your headache so-" until I was interrupted by daddy dearest.

"-So you went off-script and decided to announce your ambitions to America, with no planning whatsoever… I called up Trent by the way." He smiled.

Oh shit, did Trent crack? Did he spill everything? Did that son of bit- no-no, I can't, his mom is an angel. Did that sorry little bastard snitch?

"A minute… was all it took. He cracked faster than a fucking egg."

Goddamn you Trent. Goddamn you.

"Now, since the genie is out of the bottle… you know you can't helm it without a studio. Oh, you can finance it no doubt, but hiring all the personnel, traveling to the various sets since you plan on filming on-location, getting permits, etc… well you can, but it'll take you time, and if there's one thing I know about you kiddo… it's that you hate wasting time. Screw money, the resource you consider most precious is time… and with the help of a studio, who will unconditionally endorse you after your recent landslide at the box office… well I don't need to tell you." He sat back in his chair, satisfied with his piece.

After a short pause, I met his eyes and smiled widely, "You know, I've been waiting for this. Not your offer, I mean… you talking to me like an equal… recognizing the fact that I'm an undeniable asset… actually trying to pitch me, rather than the other way around. But why would you do that?" Just as he was about to open his hand, I made a hand gesture, "Oh don't answer, please… give me a chance. People know I'm related to you. But this is Hollywood, this is America… estrangement from one's family is shockingly common, and the fact that my first movie, while it was distributed by you, was financed solely by me. I secured our little deal after filming, classifying it as an independent production."

He sighed in defeat, as I continued.

"You want to tell every major player out there to back the fuck up, make sure they know I'm tied up to you. And the best part, your pals over at Stirling Studios don't know zilch about this. That tabloid article a week ago, talking about a supposed rift in our relationship… it shook you up. Probably made you remember the little talk we had, where I threatened to walk over to Warner Bros." I concluded my little tirade, my self-satisfied smirk featured prominently on my face.

But even as I gloated, I steered clear of mentioning Miramax. I still remember that time I revealed I knew about his little rivalry. His face… It haunted my sleep for a good 2 days, before I managed to purge the unease from my brain.

I have a feeling he wasn't referring to his rivalry, when he asked me, 'how much do you know?' There's definitely something there… something he's not telling me. It's not like I could stroll into Miramax, use the monthly deep search on Weinstein to know. And I respected my dad too much to use it on him… he'll tell me when he wants to, and I'll just have to leave it till then.

Oh yeah, the monthly deep search by the way, a new function of the Gamer, that opened up when I turned 18.

It allows me to ask a single question a month to anyone who I encounter face-to-face… and they'll be compelled to answer, no exceptions.

The catch… once I use it, the countdown starts, and I'll have 30 days before I can 'ask' again.

Oh, how I wish it refreshed every month, then at the very least I could plan around it but this… I have been saving up my chance for the past 2 months now.

I have refrained from using it frivolously, obviously. It's essentially an ace in the hole.

I could use it on my dad to know what the fuck happened between him and Weinstein… but I never will.

I made a hard decision the day I received this skill, to only ever use it on someone who is not a friend, family, close associate, or a loyal colleague.

Quite literally, everyone else is fair game as far as I am concerned, but if there's one thing I learned in both lives, it was to never violate the trust of anyone close to me.

Forcefully extracting information from someone's mouth, without them having any control over it… it's messed up.

Anyways, my father finally collects himself before responding, "Not bad kiddo, not bad at all. Now that you've gloated enough, let's get back to the matter at hand. Trent told me you approximated the budget to be $6 million, not including talent participation costs, and marketing."

"Yeah, that's right. I've got 10 casting calls I wanna hold, but including salary, I don't expect costs to exceed $12 million." I said, finally deciding to end the foreplay.

"12? That's… manageable I suppose. Yeah we can make do on short notice, it's a trivial amount really-"

"No, you'll only put in 2. I'll fork over the remaining 10." I interrupted this time.

His eyes widened, "No! Too less. Ricky, any and all resources we have will be at your disposal. All we're asking for is a bigger slice of the pie. I'm only saying this with your best interests at heart." He smiles in an assuring manner.

What a load of dung. The best interests part I mean. Anyone who supposedly acts in someone else's best interests, are really only chasing their own. They're just choosing to play the long game.

"Fine then, how much?" I ask.

He looked me in the eyes, before sighing. "Ricky, I don't want to do this with you. This whole… back and forth. You're my kid, I'm not negotiating with you, so I'll just tell it to you straight, the bottom line for us. The company will not go lower than 50% for its services. And you'll share the producer credit with someone who will act as the middleman between you and the Studio. Now, from what I've heard, you wrote the script, you'll direct it, and star in it. That's all well and good, but Trent told me you wrote a score… Ricky why is this the first time I'm hearing about your foray into composing?"

"...Well, I dabbled in it back at USC, visited the observatory every week for a few hours."

"But your course did not include it. How did you learn Ricky? No wait, don't tell me… let me guess, you read a book?" He asked, his disgruntled voice being music to my ears.

"Books. Plural. Tens of them… No wait, hundreds." My self-satisfied smirk returning in full force.

Normally, anyone on the receiving end of this piece of information, would be shocked out of their mind. But daddy dearest has raised me all my life. He's acclimatized himself to my abnormal intellect, now finding my casual and effortless brilliance in any given field, merely impressive.

"Yeah… I expected as much. Now, what's this I hear about recording all the songs yourself? Don't tell me… oh hell." He sighed again, as he proceeded to stare at me again.

"You've already written the songs haven't you?"

I smile sheepishly, "Guilty as charged."

"Great. Wonderful. Just what I needed to hear! So essentially, all that's left once you cast the actors… is filming and post-production?"

"Yep."

"Ok… I can get behind that. You're coming with me tomorrow, we'll finalize things, put it in writing in front of the others. Just one last thing."

"Yes dad?"

"What are your expectations? For this movie I mean… Most people either want to make an art film, or something that does well at the box-office. I say most, because there are some who want to fit both criteria in a single package. I'll ask again, what are you expecting out of this?"

I take a few seconds to frame my words before promptly answering, "I'm expecting quite a few things out of this. Firstly, I'm gonna fulfill my creative vision, making what I want to make. Secondly, it'll be a fine addition to my filmography, and lastly… both. I want this to gross over $200 million, and win big at the awards season."

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back, as my father's light chuckling grew into full-blown laughter… no doubt in awe of my sheer fucking audacity.

"Haaaa… Oh Ricky… It's always go big or go home with you isn't it? Fine then. I've got your back, just make sure you practice what you preach… otherwise no-one will hear your tall ramblings later on. You understand?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good, we'll talk more tomorrow. You're coming with me first thing in the morning." He said, while shifting his focus from me, to a series of documents on his desk.

"Got it. I'll see you later." I say as I make my way out of his study.

…

…

20th November 1996 (Wednesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"So ladies and gentleman, that concludes my pitch. The finer details are listed in the files I distributed before I began, please give them a read if you haven't already, and now I'll field any and all questions you may have." I conclude with a smile, as a room full of execs, seated around a hollow rectangular table, focuses towards me.

And soon enough the questions pour in.

"So, you want to film on set at Harvard and MIT. The latter is more than possible, but you realize Harvard disallows filming on its property. We'll need to get in touch with their board of trustees…" Javier Katz muttered.

I replied almost immediately, "Oh, no need for that. I have a friend whose brother is a Harvard alumnus who made considerable donations… I'll put him in touch with you all and you can proceed together."

Yup, Missy's boyfriend David, apparently has a step-brother who he is tight with, and that guy topped his class in Harvard Law.

…

"You are taking a considerable amount of burden on your shoulders Richmond, but I won't begrudge you for that, I respect you in fact. But, since you're already so ingrained in the production process, you can let someone else be in charge of post-production. We have some brilliant editors on standby, and you can meet and choose who you want for this project even?"

"No, I am sorry, but no. I'll edit it myself. It'll be faster, and will provide me complete control to pursue my creative vision unencumbered by needless delegation. Thank you very much for your suggestion, I'll definitely take it into consideration for my next project, but this one? I'm afraid not, it is far too personal to me… point is, I'll edit it myself." I reply back, ensuring the pony tailed bastard backs the fuck up.

Yeah, one use of Observe, and it was clear he was trying to stick me with his nephew, who is an editor himself.

So, hell no. Not on my watch.

That's when Peter Higgs chimed in, "Ok, relax Ricky. No one, least of all us, wants to hinder you in pursuing your outlook, and Gary, sit down. We'll find another movie for your nephew. Now, if you don't mind, I got a question."

I make a gesture with my hand, "Please, by all means. The floor is yours."

"Thank you. Now Ricky, I gave a script a cursory read. It's good, one of the best I've ever read in fact. I've got no issues with it, and with the permission of everyone here, I'll gladly greenlight this project effective immediately. But… clear my doubt, I thought this might be just a mathematical error or something… you said you want 10 casting calls to select your ensemble. You got it. But I went through the script, and there are 13 characters. Now, you'll play the lead, we got that. And you told us, you had a guy ready to play 'Chuckie Sullivan'. That leaves one more. You got anyone else, or was it an error, and you need 11 casting calls?"

Huh. It seems I'll have to unveil 'that' plan earlier than anticipated.

I chuckle lightly before replying, "Yes, in fact I know someone who I think will play the supporting role of the therapist, beautifully if nothing else. I want him to play it, no auditions, I'm going to offer the role to him on a silver fucking platter."

"And… who is this illustrious actor? Care to share his name?"

I smile lightly, before replying, "...."

Author's note: If you spot any grammatical errors, or vocab goof-ups, feel free to comment in the paragraph, and I'll correct them all ASAP.