1515-1517

Chapter 1515: Scrambling to Join In 

It was relentless! 

In a split second, it felt like Christmas had arrived. Every year, Rockefeller Center turned into this kind of madness around the holidays, as if half of New York’s population swarmed the place. 

Karen had mentally prepared herself. Showing up a little late, she knew it’d be chaotic, but the reality still blew her expectations out of the water— 

And that was a good thing. 

The more people, the better. They didn’t just want ten or twenty thousand—they needed a crowd big enough to spark a full-blown carnival at Rockefeller Center, and that wasn’t easy. 

Today’s festivities hinged on two key elements. First: white T-shirts. Every fan heading to the premiere was supposed to wear one of their own accord. 

But given the situation, not everyone would remember the dress code. Plus, tons of regular folks would inevitably show up—people who had no clue about the online forum plans. That left a loose end: the white T-shirts might not dominate the scene entirely. 

And most importantly, even if everyone wore white, Sony Columbia and the media might not catch the message they were trying to send. 

That’s where the second element came in—the only prop they’d prepared. With this, they could clearly and unmistakably express what they believed in. 

Karen was in charge of getting that prop ready, but the process hit some snags, costing her time. That’s why she was only just arriving now. 

Luckily, she hadn’t delayed too much. They still had plenty of time to set things up. 

The problem? How was she supposed to find her crew in this mess? 

Taking a deep breath, Karen came up with a brilliant idea. She stepped away for a moment and returned pushing two… trash cans. 

Not a metaphor—literal trash cans. 

The morning garbage pickup had just cleared them out, and now Karen dumped all the props she’d painstakingly hauled over into them. 

In no time, the cans were stuffed to the brim. 

She started pushing them forward, shouting to the white-T-shirt crowd around her, “For Anson, one each!” 

“Listen up—one per person! You can grab a few extras to pass to your friends.” 

“In a bit, there’ll be a signal. Trust me, you won’t miss it—100% guaranteed. When it happens, just follow along.” 

“For Anson, one each!” 

Like a street vendor hawking candy in New York, Karen called out as she moved. The bewildered crowd parted slightly, letting her roll through unimpeded. 

Amid the bustling chaos, Blair was the first to spot Karen—drenched in sweat, her T-shirt clinging to her. 

“Oh my God, sorry, Karen, so sorry. We should’ve sent more people to help,” Blair said. 

Karen didn’t even bother wiping her face. “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe how much five thousand of these things add up to.” 

“The weight’s not bad—less than ten kilos total—but the volume, Blair, we didn’t account for the volume. They take up way more space than we thought.” 

“There’s a taxi parked at the barricaded intersection over there. I told the driver we’d cover any parking fines. Hurry over and grab the rest—there are two more big bags.” 

“I’m worried five thousand might not be enough.” 

Blair got it instantly and skipped the small talk. “Gloria, I need five people. Our plan’s hit a snag.” 

They were just students, after all—inexperienced. Planning something this huge was new to them. Gaps between theory and reality were bound to happen, and mistakes were inevitable. 

No big deal—they’d fix it on the fly. 

“Blair, need a hand? I’m in,” someone piped up. 

“Me too! I can help.” 

Blair was still calling for Gloria, but before Gloria could respond, volunteers stepped up. Within moments, a group of fifty broke off from the crowd, heading toward the barricade near Sixth Avenue in a lively swarm. 

Along the way, curious onlookers asked what was happening. Blair kept it short and sweet: “We need help handing out props.” 

Word spread like wildfire—one to ten, ten to a hundred. In no time, the buzz had taken over Rockefeller Center, and people eagerly jumped in to lend a hand. 

Five thousand props? 

No problem. With enough hands, anything was possible. 

In just a short while, the carnival fever had quietly swept across Manhattan. 

As the buzz from that first morning coffee faded, office break rooms filled with people slacking off, swapping the latest gossip. 

“Hey, heard about Radio City Music Hall? It’s like a carnival over there—a carnival!” 

“Ugh, why do we still have three days left this week? Can’t we just fast-forward to the long weekend already?” 

“You mean the Peter Parker sequel premiere? Is that today? It’s all over GG, but I had no idea it was happening now.” 

“No big deal. Just a bunch of fangirls swooning over Anson Wood. What, you’re a 35-year-old guy and getting all giddy too?” 

“Hahaha!” 

“I’m not missing the movie—I’m missing the carnival, okay? God, I desperately need a break. I can’t even remember my last day off.” 

“Uh, two days ago, dude.” 

“Shut up!” 

“But Joel’s not wrong.” 

“What? That we all need a vacation?” 

“No, the carnival.” 

“Oh, come on, it’s just a premiere. A carnival? Sure, other people can freak out, but we don’t need to act like we’ve never seen a party before.” 

“No, for real. My friend works near Rockefeller Center. They say no one in the offices around there can focus. Everyone’s sneaking to the windows, itching for a holiday vibe. It’s not just a premiere—there’s at least fifty thousand people there now.” 

“And—” 

“Pfft!” 

“Hey, don’t spit your coffee everywhere! Keep it clean.” 

“Sorry, sorry. Wait—Hector, how many did you say?” 

“Fifty thousand. You heard me right. I double-checked with my friend a few times. And he says the crowd’s still growing.” 

“Jesus Christ, that’s insane. Fifty thousand? Sounds like an exaggeration. Ten thousand, tops.” 

“Ten thousand for a premiere is already wild, you know?” 

“God, there’s a limit to BS. Fifty thousand, just thrown out like that? Do you know how big fifty thousand is? Last year’s Halloween parade had, what, thirty thousand marchers and half a million spectators? A little premiere hitting fifty thousand—even for Anson Wood—that’s too much. Sounds like pure hype.” 

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger! I’m just passing along what I heard. I’m not there—how would I know if it’s fifty thousand or five people?” 

“Five people! Hahaha, imagine—just five lonely souls in the middle of Rockefeller Center!” 

“I’m not attacking you. I’m just saying fifty thousand is impossible. It’s obviously some crazed fans making up numbers to get attention.” 

“But Rockefeller Center’s packed right now. That part’s true.” 

“For real?” 

“Right now, every rumor coming out of there needs a question mark.” 

“Curious? If you’re that curious, ditch work and head over to Rockefeller Center yourself.” 

Chapter 1516: Imitating Without Capturing the Essence 

The crowd buzzed with restless energy, a chaotic hum filling the air. 

Word spread like wildfire, zipping out from Rockefeller Center to every office big and small across Manhattan. Break rooms turned into the liveliest spots, the pre-Independence Day holiday excitement bubbling up uncontrollably. This celebration stole the spotlight effortlessly—everyone was talking about it. 

Fifty thousand people? 

Some believed it, some scoffed, some joked, some hoped. Reactions rippled outward. 

Whether you bought the number or not, one thing was certain: this morning, the city had only one topic on its mind—Spider-Man 2. 

Even beyond New York, a breeze carried the news westward. In no time, it swept across the entire North American continent, becoming a blazing hotspot. The hype already surrounding Spider-Man 2 climbed higher and higher, igniting the summer blockbuster season in full force. A tsunami was brewing. 

When New York Times reporter Nicholas Flynn arrived at Rockefeller Center, the NYPD was already on the scene, keeping order— 

Everything was being handled with top-tier protocol, the kind reserved for New Year’s Eve, Halloween, and now this. 

After the events of Master and Commander and The Butterfly Effect, the New York Times stopped holding Nicholas back. This time, they’d greenlit his request to cover the Spider-Man 2 premiere. 

And once again, Nicholas’s instincts proved spot-on. 

Flashing his premiere credentials, Nicholas bypassed the audience entrance and slipped in through the staff door. A quick glance up and down the street told him everything: the NYPD had blocked off four full blocks, a setup on par with the Grammys or the Tonys. 

Fifty thousand people? 

Nicholas had been skeptical—not of Anson’s draw, but of the rumors. 

In today’s online frenzy, exaggeration was the norm. Ten thousand people could balloon into fifty thousand, three likes could be spun as “rave reviews,” and a decent work could be hyped as a “masterpiece.” It was all about grabbing attention with the loudest, flashiest, most over-the-top claims. 

Naturally, rumors got inflated, often needing to be wrung out three or five times before you could sift through the noise and find a shred of truth. 

Plus, this was a Tuesday—a workday. Filling Rockefeller Center wasn’t exactly a cakewalk for Sony Columbia. 

But now? 

Stepping into the thick of it, Nicholas started to feel the reality sink in— 

Maybe… it was more than fifty thousand. 

As far as he could see, there was no end in sight. In Manhattan, with its forest of skyscrapers, this wasn’t a common sight. Your view was usually cut off or boxed in, the surging crowds swallowed by the steel jungle, fragmented and disjointed. Normally, you could spot the edge of a gathering with ease. 

In New York, the real charm of a festival lay in its surprises—around one corner, a group of people; around another, another group. Just when you thought that was it, a turn revealed yet another crowd. They were everywhere, tucked into every nook and cranny. 

That “endless horizon” vibe? You only got that on New Year’s Eve. 

Nicholas hadn’t expected to witness a scene like this today. Standing on tiptoes, he peered down Sixth Avenue’s straight stretch, forward and back. A dense tide of people shimmered under the summer sun, radiating heat and pulsing with life. The whole world seemed to spin. 

Pedestrians wove through each other, shoulder to shoulder, faces alight with joy and excitement. Their steps were light, heels barely touching the ground as they bounced on their toes. A slight breeze was all it took to set them sprinting, joining the roaring current, unleashing their energy, and letting loose. 

Laughter danced in their eyes, hands waved in the air. 

The air crackled with a youthful, carefree vibe, like stepping into Coachella in an instant—dazzling, overwhelming, your heart racing out of control. 

“Uh, Nick, did we… stumble into the wrong place?” a voice piped up beside him. 

The speaker immediately realized their normal volume wouldn’t cut through the noise. They shot Nicholas a panicked glance, unsure if they should repeat themselves. 

Nicholas turned to see four faces staring back at him, wide-eyed and jittery like meerkats. Honestly, even he was stunned—imagine how these rookies felt. The New York Times had sent these fresh faces along to get some real-world experience. 

“I’m not sure. Why don’t we check it out?” Nicholas didn’t pull the veteran card. Instead, he flashed a grin and rolled with it. 

The four meerkats froze, dumbfounded. 

Nicholas burst out laughing. “This is what reporting’s all about. Sure, in entertainment, nobody cares about the truth—entertainment ’til you drop is the name of the game. But we’ve still got to keep a spark of curiosity alive. That’s how you dig up a real story.” 

“Especially with Anson…” 

Nicholas couldn’t help but think back to the first time he’d met Anson. 

Back then, Anson was a newbie, fresh on the scene. A swarm of reporters had cornered him at the Friends studio, expecting to see a rookie flounder. Instead, one encounter, one appearance, and Anson surprised them all. From there, everything he did became the stuff of legend. 

“Never rely on your assumptions. You think you’ve got premieres figured out, but here’s the truth: I have no idea what’s going to happen today.” 

“So, let’s find out together.” 

With that, Nicholas turned and started walking, ready to explore Rockefeller Center. The meerkat crew trailed behind, half-dazed, eyes brimming with curiosity— 

Just as Nicholas said, over the past two years, Anson’s movie premieres had become a blast, shattering expectations and delivering surprises. Seasoned fans now flocked to his premieres like treasure hunters. 

Whether you liked Anson or cared about his work didn’t matter. The premiere itself had turned into an event—not just hype for hype’s sake, but something that genuinely thrilled movie lovers, making them want to be part of it. 

Blockbusters had their allure, indie arthouse films had their charm, and Anson was proving his love and understanding of cinema through action. It cut through interviews, promos, and PR fluff—raw, direct, and real—forging a bond between him and film fans. 

This summer, plenty of movie crews had tried to copy Anson, hoping to build that same connection through their premieres. But— 

They were just mimicking without the soul. 

Clumsy imitations, grasping at the surface but missing the heart. 

That heart? Anson tailored each premiere to the film’s unique tone and flavor, immersing audiences in its world from the moment they arrived. Other projects just copied his events wholesale, with no tie to their own movies. 

You can paint the skin, but not the bones. All the bustle and noise? Just bubbles—empty and fleeting. 

It made you wonder: what about Spider-Man 2? Was there a surprise lurking here too? 

Chapter 1517: Having Fun on His Own 

Over the years, Nicholas had attended countless movie premieres—maybe not five hundred, but at least three hundred. Big ones, small ones, all kinds, you name it—he’d seen them all. 

But every time he went to an Anson movie premiere, it felt different. And it wasn’t just about the format— 

It was the vibe. 

A certain atmosphere, a spirit, a state of being. 

You could feel the difference the moment you stepped into it. 

Right now, it was the same. 

Here, Nicholas wasn’t talking about the sea of white T-shirts filling his view. That kind of obvious, in-your-face visual impact was something anyone could notice. No, he meant the entire atmosphere. He’d felt it the second he arrived at the entrance—a sense of youth, energy, and vibrant life. 

What was going on? 

Had Anson just copied and pasted the format of The Butterfly Effect premiere? No red carpet, no barriers—everyone, from the audience to the actors and director, treated as the stars? 

At first glance, it sure seemed that way. At Rockefeller Center, there was no red carpet, no roped-off sections. Everything was wide open, so the bustling crowd spilled freely across the space, filling every nook and cranny. People moved around at ease, like at a music festival. 

That’s why Nicholas felt echoes of Coachella here. 

After all, The Butterfly Effect premiere had maybe three thousand people tops. But the dense swarm of figures in front of him now? Easily ten or twenty thousand. The scale was on a whole different level. 

But… Nicholas didn’t buy that Anson would just recycle the Butterfly Effect premiere format. Even if Sony Columbia wanted to throw the most basic, bare-bones, traditional premiere, Anson wouldn’t lazily duplicate what he’d done before. 

The Butterfly Effect and Spider-Man 2 were two completely different films—different styles, different cores, different spirits. If Anson wanted to slack off, or if Sony Columbia had shot down his premiere ideas, they could’ve just gone back to a standard red-carpet event. No need to complicate things. 

Nicholas knew Anson. The guy had his own stubborn streak, his own principles. 

Unless… 

Unless Sony Columbia was planning to replace Anson for Spider-Man 3 and deliberately trying to tick him off by copying this premiere setup. 

But that didn’t add up. If Sony Columbia wanted to rile Anson up, there were plenty of smarter ways to do it. Sabotaging their own box office with a dumb move like this? Nah, not a chance. 

Wait a sec! 

A lightbulb went off in Nicholas’s head. He caught a spark of inspiration and turned to scan the surroundings again. An idea was taking shape: 

A campus festival! 

Back around the turn of the millennium, a trend swept through Hollywood—heading to Japan to shoot commercials. 

In Lost in Translation, Bill Murray’s character was a perfect example: a washed-up actor at a career low, going to Japan to film a whiskey ad. 

The reason? East Asian markets, including Japan, were obsessed with the power of celebrity endorsements. Companies loved splashing cash to get top-tier stars as their spokespeople. And Hollywood’s influence in Asia? Untouchable. Landing a Hollywood actor was like gilding your brand in gold. 

For Hollywood actors, though, it was a step down—a “downgrade.” Usually, only those in a career slump took the gigs, chasing quick cash. 

Before the internet took over, flights across the Pacific weren’t as common. A commercial shot in Japan might never make it to North America. Actors could pocket the money, ease their financial woes, and avoid any embarrassment among their Hollywood peers. 

Problem was, as travel and work between Asia and the West ramped up, those ads started leaking out. Eventually, they became fodder for mockery. 

Understanding this backdrop was key to getting Bill Murray’s character in Lost in Translation—his loneliness, his sense of being adrift. 

In reality, Japanese companies threw around insane amounts of money. The endorsement fees in Asia were jaw-dropping, enough to make Hollywood’s “$20 million club” look modest. Under that kind of financial pressure, it wasn’t just struggling actors who caved—even the biggest stars couldn’t resist the checks. 

Bruce Willis, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Will Smith, Harrison Ford, Nicole Kidman, Leonardo DiCaprio, Lisa Kudrow—you name it, they’d all shot commercials for Japanese companies. In a way, it opened a door for Japanese culture to seep into Hollywood. 

That’s how Hollywood got its first taste of Asian culture— 

Films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Last Samurai, and Hero hit North American screens thanks to that wave. 

The campus festival was a tiny piece of it—not something most people knew about. But in manga, it was a glimpse into everyday Japanese school life. 

And here it was, right in front of him. 

The Spider-Man 2 premiere had morphed into a campus festival. 

Using Rockefeller Center as its backbone, the event sprawled along Midtown Manhattan’s grid-like streets. Booths lined up one after another. 

At a quick glance, it did feel a bit like The Butterfly Effect premiere. But step up to the booths, and you’d see—this was a totally different beast. 

For example, one booth showcased every Spider-Man comic ever published. Comic fans could gather, geek out, and dive into discussions. The booth next to it had other comics—not just superhero stuff, but all kinds, a dazzling variety. 

Another booth had a massive TV wall playing behind-the-scenes footage of Spider-Man—including clips never released to the media—and interviews from the making of the second film. It gave fans a peek into the crew’s vibe and answered their burning questions. 

Then there was a booth with a mystery box—a glass case covered with a black cloth, just one opening. You could stick your hand in and “experience” what it was like for Peter Parker to become Spider-Man. According to the booth runner, it was about “getting bitten by a spider.”  

Obviously, some people were freaked out, but way more were curious. 

Another booth let you live the Spider-Man life. You could suit up in his gear, put on the mask, and become Spider-Man—or take it off if you wanted. Plus, you could pick one of three scenes to snap a perfect Spider-Man photo as a keepsake. 

There was a booth to try out Green Goblin gear, one displaying every type of spider imaginable, and another where you could feel what it’s like to swing on wires. 

The standout—the absolute hottest booth—was a recreation of Spider-Man’s iconic kiss scene. You know, Spider-Man hanging upside down, Mary Jane kissing him in that inverted moment. They’d set it up perfectly onsite—though it was couples-only. The line stretched so long you couldn’t see the end. 

And that wasn’t all. There were food stalls too—hot dogs and sandwiches, popcorn and soda, burgers and fries, coffee and drinks. 

In other words, a campus festival— 

A real-deal campus festival. They’d thought of everything, food and drinks included. The premiere had transformed into a full-on, all-day extravaganza. 

Mind-blowing! 

(End of Chapter)