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Chapter - 181
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 17:11:28 +0000 UTC[Title : The World Gave Up On Him Too Soon]
….
Marvel and DC.
Having finished with the first film of [Harry Potter], and now dealing with the ongoing Oscar campaign, Regal hardly has any time to work on his next project unlike before.
Still, that doesn't mean he hadn't given it a thought about it.
Of course he can't abandon the [Harry Potter] franchise either.
He had to find someone to carry the quality of the first part.
That will be Regal’s next immediate concern.
Once that was done - the focus will be immediately shifted into the first film of MarvelD Universe.
…and although not directly linked to the movie.
A person that is being eyed by Regal… right now the laptop screen is going to play a big part in making it happen.
….
Regal was sitting in a chair and watching a clip on MeTube.
It was a 3 minutes and 33 seconds video clip.
It started with a low angle view of buildings while the camera was rotating…
The quality of the video wasn't the best but Regal doesn't seem to care.
Then… camera moves.. Capturing a statue, and it moves again giving a wider view of the status and a few buildings and then this time… a green sign board that saying “WALL ST” then oddly enough it captures a man lying on the ground with a blue shirt and a rope tied to him in a weird manner.
Finally it follows a young man.. From the back as he enters the building...
It was a rather ‘young’ looking man…
Wall Street Observation.
Regal settled into his worn leather chair, laptop balanced on his knees as he clicked play on the YouTube video.
The timestamp read 3:33 - just over three minutes of content that had somehow captured his attention enough to warrant multiple viewings.
The video began with a shaky, low-angle shot of towering buildings, the camera rotating slowly as if the filmmaker was spinning in place on the sidewalk.
The image quality was grainy, clearly shot on older equipment, but Regal didn't seem to mind.
There was something raw and authentic about amateur cinematography.
The camera lurched forward, catching a bronze statue in frame - one of those forgotten monuments that dotted the financial district. The lens pulled back, revealing more of the statue's context: the surrounding buildings, the bustle of suited figures moving past like shadows.
Then came the green street sign, crisp against the urban backdrop: "WALL ST."
The camera work became more erratic here, and suddenly there was an odd shot of a man on the ground - blue shirt, some kind of rope or cord visible.
The image was brief and confusing, leaving Regal to wonder about the context each time he watched.
Finally, the camera followed a young man from behind as he walked toward one of the imposing buildings. The figure looked fresh-faced, probably in his twenties, with the kind of determined stride that suggested ambition.
The camera shakily pursued him through the revolving glass doors into the marble lobby. Inside, the acoustics changed dramatically - voices echoed off the high ceilings, creating a cacophony of financial urgency.
[“Buy! Buy! Buy!"] someone shouted from somewhere above.
["The market's bleeding red!"] another voice called out.
["Where's my commission report?"]
["Johnson, get me those numbers NOW!"]
The camera caught glimpses of men in expensive suits gesticulating wildly, phones pressed to their ears, sweat visible on their foreheads despite the air conditioning. A woman in a power suit clicked past in heels, barking into a headset:
["I don't care if it's his grandmother's funeral, we need those trades executed!"]
The young man paused near the elevator bank, looking overwhelmed by the chaos. Around him, the sounds of capitalism in motion created a symphony of greed:
["SELL EVERYTHING!"]
["The Dow's tanking!"]
["My client's going to kill me!"]
["This is financial suicide!"]
The elevator doors opened with a mechanical ding, and as the young man stepped inside, the camera pulled back to capture the full scope of the madness - traders running between desks, papers flying, computer screens flashing red warnings.
Then the camera cut’s to him outside of the building… with a little exhausted face as his voice kicked in….
["If money is evil then that building is hell this is the most obnoxious group of money-hungry low-IQ, high-energy, jackrabbit motherfuckers wanna-be big-time, small-time shit talking and bothersome irritating bunch of motherfucker I have ever had to endure for more than five minutes."]
The camera shook as the speaker's voice grew more animated.
["You want to know what's wrong with this country? I will tell you what's wrong. I pay my taxes - every damn penny - and for what? So some bureaucrat can hand out welfare checks to people who won't get off their backsides and look for work? I see guys on the corner at eight in the morning, drinking beer instead of reading the wanted ads. Meanwhile, I am busting my tail, working sixty-hour weeks!"]
Regal chuckled - the same reaction he had the first dozen times he watched this. There was something magnetic about the speaker's unvarnished honesty, even when his logic spiraled.
The camera moves fastly… the young man talking to a bunch of people while talking to them.
["But here is the thing that really gets me."] the voice continued. ["When I first moved to the city, I would see homeless people and it would break my heart. Woman with two kids, sleeping on a grate? That used to keep me up at night. Now? I am completely numb to it. You know why? Because the system is broken, and caring too much will drive you insane."]
The camera panned across the street, capturing the contrast - suited executives stepping over a sleeping figure.
["Greed might be good for business, but what's it doing to our souls? We are all just mercenaries now, chasing the almighty dollar. Green Berets of capitalism, leaving casualties in our wake."]
The video ended with the young man disappearing into the building's revolving door, swallowed by the machine of finance.
…Regal was just about to hit replay again, his finger hovering near the trackpad, eyes locked on the frozen YouTube frame, when a voice cut through the quiet.
“Just how many more times are you going to watch that video, man?” It was Simon, leaning against the doorframe with a half-annoyed, half-curious tone.
Regal didn’t turn, he just kept looking at the screen.
To the side, Samantha raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, she had clearly walked in with Simon and caught the same glimpse of the screen. “Seriously, you have been looping it since lunch.”
Andrew added as he swung his legs off the armrest: “Yeah, and not to question your taste, but… why that video?”
Regal clicked pause, the screen now frozen on the image of the young man pacing in front of the Wall Street tower, mid-rant, unfiltered fury in his stance like he was spitting out years of frustration all at once.
“Well…” Regal said, his tone unreadable. “…I have taken a liking to the dude in the clip.”
Silence.
Simon, Samantha, and Andrew all shared a quick glance.
Because they knew who it was, everyone who spent more than five minutes in the industry did.
Robert Downey Jr.
Before being named as the comeback king.
Early 2000s RDJ, pre-rehabilitation and mid-scandal.
More than anything still in jail RDJ.
The one nobody in the industry wanted to talk about in public, but everyone gossiped about behind closed doors.
The image of him pacing Wall Street, shouting into a mic at faceless corporate suits, wasn’t from a film. It was from a live protest, he had crashed it, uninvited, mic’d himself up, and spit out a sermon like he was both possessed and painfully self-aware.
Simon shifted uncomfortably. “Look… I get it, he was talented and still is talented, but man, that guy is a mess.”
Samantha didn’t even hide her distaste. “It is hard to take anything he says seriously, given where he ended up.”
Andrew, more cautious, offered. “Are you… thinking about casting him? Or just… fascinated?”
They still dont know what he is planning to do..
But they sure as hell understood that he was going to do something.
Regal finally turned to them, leaning back in his chair. “Well I will tell you the details, but don't you guys feel it? He has the presence of the type one can’t fake.”
Simon scoffed. “Presence doesn’t mean anything if it can't pay bail.”
“Maybe not.” Regal admitted. “But presence is the one thing no actor can borrow. They either have it, or they don’t.”
There was a beat.
No one said it aloud, but the implication hung in the room: Regal saw something, still saw something, in a man the rest of the world had long written off, a man currently incarcerated, burned by his own choices, abandoned by the industry.
“…You are seriously considering doing something with him?” Samantha finally asked.
Regal said, standing and closing the laptop. “I am.”
Then he added quietly, more to himself than anyone else: “The world gave up on him too soon.”
He started walking toward the door.
Then he left.
And for a moment, none of them moved.
The laptop screen still glowed faintly behind them, paused on the image of Robert Downey Jr.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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Comments
Anderson
Thanks for the chapter
