Chapter Text
Tenna was ready!
He had his suit dry cleaned! He’s written out a loose script (He knew how to think on his feet if things took a turn!). He’d even gotten help!
“I finished with the interviews, Boss!”
Tenna smiled as Jonny handed him the folder of names. Austin soon joined him, cell phone in hand and smile wide.
“Sal got the order! We’ll have everything ready for half time, Big Screen!”
Tenna leaned down and patted Austin's head, ruffling that bright red hair.
“Oh, that’s just perfect! You two have been such great assistants! I couldn’t have asked for a better skeleton crew!”
Jonny puffed up at the praise and Austin simply continued to beam. They were so cute! Tenna really hoped if things went well, he’d be able to keep them on. They really did great work!
“Okay!”
He clapped his hands and smiled at the subtle shake in the atmosphere. He felt it. He was ready. He could do this!
…
Wait-
“Are we sure he’s in his office today? If he’s not there, then this whole production-”
“Boss.”
Jonny patted his arm and smiled encouragingly.
“Trust the guys. They’ve been scoping out this place for a month now! They know his schedule, his favorite place to go for coffee. Hell, we even got a guy on his house!”
Tenna frowned at that.
“I don’t think we need to go THAT far. Still, you’re… I know you’re right! We’ve got this! It’s going to go fine. Better than fine! It’s going to be-”
He raised his hands and let his voice carry.
“STUPENDOUS!”
The words bounced and flashed dramatically and Austin and Jonny ‘ooo’d’ and clapped at the display.
Tenna felt his confidence settle at the reaction. He could do this. He was ready. He had his special effects. He had his viewers. And soon…
He looked up at the towering home office of Gotham's one and only FreeMantle Productions.
“Let's get going, boys. It’s showtime!”
He’d have the stage.
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Carlton Hemsworth was getting tired of his own goddamn name.
He’d been trapped inside his office signing his own name for about an hour now. So many consent forms he was getting dizzy. He shouldn't have put them all off in the first place. His secretary was really making him suffer for it.
He glanced at his watch and sighed. He had a meeting in 15 minutes. Someone who wanted to pitch a show. Those could be fun, if the guy wasn’t a hack, at least. He’d usually not bother getting the pitch directly from the horse's mouth, but apparently some big players were vouching that this guy had real potential.
One specific voice had sounded from the source of all of them. A voice he hadn’t heard in quite a while. Carlton was no idiot. When The Family was calling in favors like this, they were more invested than was usually safe to ignore. He could take a hint. If they wanted him to give this guy a look, he could do that.
His pen dug into the paper as he put down his signature on a budget request. He was no pushover either. Not anymore. He knew this business like no one else. Sure, he’d had some help in the beginning, but at the end of the day? He was the one calling the shots, now. The Family had been losing influence for years, and besides that?
He flicked his pen and set the budget request aside.
He was Carlton Hemsworth. CEO of FreeMantle Productions and Co owner of GNN. He was the one in control of the airwaves in Gotham. News and nature. Murder and music. Fashion and fear. He was the one who decided what stayed and what played. He would be the one to decide whether he gave this guy the time of day or the boot.
He set his pen aside when his watch hit the five minute mark and started setting his papers in a folder.
His intercom crackled with the telltale static of a call.
Just in time.
“Mr. Hemsworth?”
He pressed the intercom and cleared his throat.
“Is my 5 o’ clock ready?”
Silence.
Carlton frowned. Was there a problem?
“...Yes.”
He let a sigh out through his nose in annoyance. She was usually faster than that. He had a company to run here. They didn’t have all day!
“Well? Send him up!”
He waited as the static feedback played once more.
“Um, sir? There’s, uh-”
He pressed down his call button and cut her off.
“Just send him up, Kathy. I can deal with the rest.”
“My name’s not-!”
He shut the audio off and huffed. What was her problem? Was this about the raise? He’d told her that would be up for discussion once the yearlys were in. So impatient!
He straightened his tie and set out a calming breath.
Some people!
He brushed off his desk's surface and made sure things looked as put together as he was. He needed to give this guy a scare. Couldn’t have some hot shot coming in and thinking he had anything over him just because The Family was backing him up. He needed to EARN it!
He looked back at his watch. His secretary had set him back a full minute with her behavior. He frowned as the clock hit 5:02. Uhg.
He looked back at the door.
Nothing.
He looked back at his watch.
5:03.
Where was he?
He leaned over and pressed the intercom.
“Kathy, what the hold up?”
Static.
Okay, where was she?
He pressed the button again.
“Hey? Can you hear me? Kathy, what’s up?”
He pressed it several times just in hopes the pops of static would get her attention, but nothing happened.
Just more static.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. He checked his watch again.
5:10.
He looked at the door.
And finally!
He heard a knock.
Carlton let out a relived sigh and called them in. They were probably just as annoyed as he was. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting!
The door creaked open and in stepped a large, muscled man. He was dressed in a yellow suit jacket that barely seemed to contain his hulking mass. Black dress pants and a red bowtie that almost looked comical next to the serious expression in his face. He moved with the surety of a man that had been in more important places regularly. Carlton felt a little intimidated, to be honest!
Then in stepped another man. Or more accurately, a teenager. He was also dressed in a yellow suit jacket and bowtie, though he looked much less constrained by the thing. He smiled at Carlton in a much more friendly manner as well. He was shorter and younger and altogether much more approachable compared to the intimidating stature of the other one. He looked at Carlton and the room like it was the most exciting place he’d ever stepped foot in.
Like night and day.
They both stood on either side of the door and held out their hands dramatically.
“And now, the star of today's performance!”
The kid projected with an infectious kind of glee, raising his hands to gesture to the doorway.
“The Master of the Stage himself!”
The larger man spoke like he was announcing the entrance of a King. He mirrored the kid on the other side.
They both raised their hands and made jazz hands.
“Mr “Ant” Tenna!”
A flash of red.
He heard a snap.
And then all the lights went out.
Carlton cried out in shock. The room went pitch black. So did the hallway and even the windows. What happened? And what awful timing! He went to stand when-
“Please, stay in your seats! The show is about to begin!”
A new voice echoed though the office.
Carlton felt everything shift.
That echo was unnatural. He knew his office. He was sure it had never been able to carry a voice that far. Not without special effects. And this darkness! Where? Where were his windows?
He stood up and wobbled as he tried to find his desk. He needed help. His secretary, the electrician, the cops. Someone! He waved his hands helplessly. It was too dark. Darker than dark. He couldn't even tell the difference between blinking. It was practically nonexistent.
“Oh? Do I see a willing participant? Well, I can’t say no if you’re THAT eager to get up and play!”
He stumbled as the chair- His chair? Disappeared? Where was it? He walked forward. Desk? Where? It was gone? Where was it? It should be right in front of him! It was! He’d just-
“Where the hell is my desk?!”
A laugh. It boomed and bounced around the room like an echo in a cave. It was so LOUD and big, Carlton felt sure he couldn’t be in his office anymore. Nothing that big could fit in there. No one that big.
“Looks like our star contestant wants to see what all the fuss is about! Aussie! The lights!”
And then he was blinded.
He flailed his hand forward and finally!
Finally touched his desk.
He leaned on it and gasped. His eyes were still closed from the blinding heat of those lights, but he felt relieved. That darkness! It had been too much. Like something heavy and smothering, the minute it was gone he could finally BREATHE again. He didn’t know what was going on, but at least it felt like they were back in the real world again. Now he could-
But wait.
He was standing.
And his desk wasn’t…
He squinted his eyes open and gasped.
“WELCOME! WELCOME! WELCOME! I hope you’re all ready folks, cause tonight we have a VERY special guest on the roster! A real BIG name in the industry we all know and LOVE!”
He watched as the audience cheered and hollered on cue. Hundreds of faces, all blurred out by the stage lights and shadows. He gripped his desk's surface like a lifeline as vertigo set in. This was not his office.
He looked down at his desk and watched as the podium flashed the name slot on the front. His podium. CARL. But not his desk.
“Now don’t touch that dial! It’s time for our very first broadcast from Gotham City’s very own FreeMantle Productions Studio! And oh boy, is it going to be DOOZY!”
He looked up.
And up.
What the hell was that?
The stage lights were painfully bright after all that dark. He squinted, but he couldn’t SEE anything beyond the man's back. He was dressed in a showy red tailcoat and pants that left nothing to the imagination. He was gesturing about the place and making a scene. No, a SHOW of this madness. He waved and strode across stage like it was natural. Like his office disappearing was NATURAL. LIKE ANY OF THIS WAS NATURAL!
“Are you ready, folks? Say it with me now! Iiiiit’s!”
The man leaned down to the audience and Carlton felt his mouth fall open. The light was no longer bouncing off the surface and blinding him. He could finally see.
The audience roared so loud it almost sounded like SCREAMS.
His head.
“T! V! TIIIIIIIME!!!”
Why was his head-?
“Thaaaat’s right!”
The monster spun around and grinned at Carlton. Television. His head was a television. Why did a TV need TEETH?
Then the monster started getting closer.
Carlton felt his blood turn to ice.
“Alright, Carlton! First things first!”
Carlton paled as the creature approached and leaned down to his height, grin widening as he pushed his microphone to him. His face was a screen. So how did that nose-?
“Tell us about yourself! The folks at home need to know!”
Carlton watched as the man’s screen reflected his own terror back at him in picture perfect quality.
“What’s life like at the TOP?”