On the elevator ride up to the second floor of 625 Madison Avenue, Chen and Duke were preparing mentally for their meeting with the Marvel Staff.
David Chen adjusted his cufflinks, checking his reflection in the polished brass of the elevator doors.
Duke stood next to him, wearing an italian suit that was equally expensive but worn with casual indifference, after all he was only going to meet Comics people, not people from Hollywood.
"We are officially the owners on record. Martin Goodman's shares, plus the outstanding float we picked up in the tender."" Chen said, his voice low, cutting through the mechanical hum of the lift.
"And the bank?" Duke asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Union California Bank is calm," Chen said. "They're even enthusiastic about our acquisition."
"I walked the loan officers through the production model yesterday," Chen explained, reviewing the victory.
"When they saw the numbers on the distribution cap, the fact that Independent News was artificially limiting Marvel to a handful of titles a month, their eyes lit up."
"The bank understands that the moment we remove the distribution cap, the revenue doubles. The debt service is high, yes, but the projected cash flow covers it."
"So we're betting the whole company," Duke said, "but the bank thinks we're going to get a profit."
"Essentially," Chen smiled thinly. "They believe in the 'volume strategy.' As long as we can do our part, of course."
Duke nodded.
The debt was massive a multi-million dollar anchored dragging behind but it didn't worry him.
Debt is only terrifying if you don't have a plan to pay it back.
Duke's plan was simple: unleash marvel. Goodman had been running Marvel like a corner grocery store, afraid to get too much inventory.
The elevator doors rattled open.
The noise hit them first. It wasn't the polite murmur of a corporate office; it was a cacophony.
Telephones ringing, the clatter of heavy typewriters, and the sound of Bristol paper hitting desks. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and a distintive smell of cheap coffee.
They stepped into the reception area. An overworked secretary looked up,"Can I help you?"
"We're here to see Mr. Lee," Duke said pleasantly. "And Mr. Goodman, if he's here."
"Names?"
"Duke Hauser and David Chen."
The receptionist's eyes went wide.
Everyone knew the company had been bought, and there were rumours that the new "hollywood owners" were coming.
"Right away, go on back. Second door on the left."
They walked through the cramped, chaotic open-plan office.
Artists were hunched over drafting tables, ink-stained and intense. Writers were pacing.
It was messy, dirty, and utterly alive.
They reached the office of Stan Lee. The door was open.
Stan was standing behind his desk, looking like a man who was waiting for his prsion sentence.
He was balding, energetic, and currently vibrating with anxiety.
He had spent twenty years building this universe for Martin Goodman, and now, he was facing new owners who, he assumed, would want to bring in their own "professional" management.
"Gentlemen!" Stan boomed, "Welcome! Welcome to the... well, to Marvel!"
He extended a hand, his grip firm but sweaty. "Stan Lee, but you probably know that. Since you guys bought the place."
"We did," Duke said, shaking his hand.
He gestured to Chen. "This is David Chen, an Executive in Ithaca Productions."
"I know, I know," Stan said, waving them toward two mismatched chairs. "I saw The Graduate and loved it. Look, fellas... I know how this works."
"New management comes in, they want to clean house. I just want you to know, the guys out there? They're the great."
Stan sat down, bracing himself.
He looked tired.
Duke sat down, crossed his legs, and looked around the cluttered office. Stacks of comics leaned against the walls. A poster of the Silver Surfer was taped to the window.
"Stan," Duke said quietly. "Relax."
"I'm relaxed! Who says I'm not relaxed?" Stan laughed nervously.
"We aren't here to fire people," Duke said. "Actually, we're here to promote you."
Stan froze. The manic energy dropped away, replaced by genuine confusion. "Promote me?"
"Martin Goodman is retiring," Chen interjected, his voice calm and precise. "As per the terms of the acquisition, he is moving to a ceremonial role as Honorary Chairman."
"He will have an office, but no operational power."
"Which leaves a spot open," Duke continued. "We need someone who understands the business of this company."
Duke leaned forward. "We want you to run it, Stan. All of it, not just the writing. The whole show, you'll become the CEO of Marvel Comics."
Stan stared at them.
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Me? Run the business? Duke, I'm a writer. Goodman handles conversation with distributors, the printers, the money, toys and all that."
"Goodman ran this company very restricted," Duke said. "He played things safe."
"He kept the lights on," Stan defended weakly.
"He kept you in chains," Duke corrected. "David, walk him through the Charlton deal."
Chen opened his briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper—a summary of the new logistics.
"Stan," Chen began, shifting into his professorial mode. "For the last decade, Marvel has been distributed by Independent News."
"Independent News is owned by Kinney National, the same company that owns DC Comics. Your direct competitor controls your supply chain."
"I know," Stan sighed. "They cap us, eight books a month."
"Well, that deal is gone," Chen declared. "Effective immediately, we are terminating the agreement with Independent News. We will be signing a new, exclusive distribution agreement with Charlton Distribution."
Stan blinked. "Charlton? The Derby, Connecticut guys? They're... well, they're second tier and their trucks break down. They don't have the reach of Independent."
"They don't have the reach," Duke admitted. "But they will charge us less and more importantly, they will give us unlimited shelf space."
Duke stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the grit of Madison Avenue.
"Under the Independent deal, you were capped. You had to choose between Iron-man and Doctor Strange."
"Under Charlton, there is no cap. If you want to publish twenty titles a month, we publish twenty. If you want to publish forty, we publish forty."
Duke turned back to Stan. "We are going to flood the market, Stan. We are going to bury DC in paper."
"We are going to take up so much rack space that kids won't be able to find a Superman comic without digging through a mountain of Marvels."
Stan was listening now, his mouth slightly open.
"You want to... expand production then?" Stan asked.
"I want to explode," Duke said. "I want spin-offs. I want one-shots. I want black-and-white magazines for older readers."
"But the cost..." Stan stammered. "Printing that many books... the returns... if they don't sell..."
"That's my problem," Duke said firmly. "That's why we took the loan. That's why the bank is backing us. They believe in the product."
Duke walked back to the desk and placed his hands on it. "Stan, listen to me, we need to focus on new heroes for production. Expand the Marvel IP's."
"New Heroes," Stan repeated the word, tasting it. It sounded like what he had always wanted to be doing.
"You've created a team," Duke said. "Spider-Man, Thor, the Hulk. These are the modern American heroes. And we are going to treat them that way. We aren't just going to sell comics. It all starts with the books. We need to own the newsstand."
Stan looked at Chen, looking for the catch. "And the debt? I heard rumors. You guys leveraged your company on this deal."
"We did," Chen said comfortably. "But debt is just a tool. The only way we fail is if we stay small. If we stay safe, the debt kills us. If we get big, the debt disappears."
Stan sat back in his chair. A slow smile began to spread across his face.
"President," Stan murmured. "President of Marvel Stan Lee."
"With a raise," Chen added. "A significant one. And performance bonuses."
"And Kirby?" Stan asked, the old anxiety flickering back. "Jack... Jack is unhappy. He feels like he built the house and Goodman sold the deed."
"I'll handle Kirby," Duke said. "I'm meeting him next. We're going to offer him a participation pool."
"I don't have time to talk too much today Stan," Duke said.
"I still have a distribution network to build. Ithaca still has movies to make. I need you to run the publishing empire so I don't have to."
Duke extended his hand again. "So, Stan. Are you ready to work for a living?"
Stan Lee stood up. He buttoned his ragged sweater vest, but he stood a little taller. He grabbed Duke's hand with both of his.
"Excelsior," Stan said.
Duke and Chen walked out of Stan's office ten minutes later, leaving the new President of Marvel Comics frantically dialing his wife to tell her the news.
They stepped back into the chaotic office.
The artists were still hunched over their tables, cigarette smoke curling into the air.
Duke stopped for a moment, watching Jack Kirby across the room. The guy was drawing a page with his pencil, lost in the energy of creation. Duke knew that conversation would be harder, but he was ready for it.
"He took it well," Chen noted, keeping his voice low.
"He seems to not want much," Duke said. "He got a raise and his characters will become movie staples in the future."
"The Charlton deal is risky," Chen reminded him as they headed for the exit.
"Their logistics are sloppy. If the books don't get to the stands on time, the 'volume strategy' fails and we'll be printing debt."
"We'll fix Charlton," Duke said, pushing open the door to the elevator lobby. "We'll also start building our own logistics network next year."
They stepped into the elevator, the silence of the lift descending around them, sealing out the chaos of the Marvel office.
"You realize," Chen said, watching the floor numbers tick down, "that we just committed to printing a million books a month with money we don't technically have yet."
Duke looked at his reflection in the brass doors.
He knew what Spider-Man was worth, he knew what the X-Men would become. The debt was nothing more than a number on a page.
After all, the future is inevitable.
"Wait until Night of The Living Dead is released, David," Duke said, a small smile touching his lips. "I have a feeling it will be a success."
The doors opened to the lobby, and they walked out into the bright, hot Manhattan afternoon.
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Im physically exhausted so enjoy the chapter.