DOS Ch-196

The Grammy Awards are typically held in mid-February, recognizing songs released between October and September of the preceding year.

For the 49th Annual Grammy Awards, eligibility extended to songs and albums released between October 2005 and September 2006. Since [Echoes of You] debuted in December 2005, it qualified.

The nominations, announced on January 16, 2006, surprised and delighted the Trojan Army.

The Grammys feature four major awards that transcend genre: Record of the Year, Song of the Year, Best New Artist, and Album of the Year. Few artists manage to secure nominations in all four categories, mostly because New Artists rarely come out with an album so good it breaks all records—yet Troy Armitage did just that.

Echoes of You was up for Album of the Year, while Troy himself was nominated for Best New Artist. Meanwhile, All of Me earned a nod for Song of the Year, and Bad Guy for Record of the Year.

But that wasn’t all.

Beyond the general categories, We Found Love was nominated for Best Dance Recording; Someone You Loved for Best Male Pop Vocal Performance; We Don’t Talk Anymore for Best Pop Performance by a Duo; Radioactive for Best Rock Song and Best Solo Rock Vocal; Sugar for Best Music Video; and Blinding Lights for Best Song Written for Visual Media.

Additionally, the album received three more nominations—Best Pop Vocal Album, Best Score Soundtrack for Visual Media, and Best Compilation Soundtrack for Visual Media.

With 14 nominations, Troy shattered the previous record of 12, jointly held by Michael Jackson and Babyface, cementing his place in Grammy history.

(Break)

SereneDreamer: YES! I knew he would make history! (Again.)This just proves my point—we are lucky to be alive in the era of Troy Armitage. Mark my words, decades from now, we’ll be telling our grandkids, "Those were the days of good music."

PixelWarrior77: I don’t even know why they bothered nominating other artists in those 14 categories. Like, they’re not actually winning anything against Troy FUCKING Armitage.

FireStarter12: I couldn’t agree more, @PixelWarrior77, but let’s not forget—it’s the Grammys. They get it wrong all the time. Too many biased, jealous people who love tearing down success. I wouldn’t be surprised if Troy walked away with just two or three awards, if at all.

DarkMatter69: Facts. They love giving awards to those avant-garde, artsy bullshit songs no one listens to, just to stroke their egos. If Troy loses, I won’t be mad—just disappointed.

LunaBliss: You know what would be really interesting? If he won for We Found Love or We Don’t Talk Anymore. He’d have to share the stage with Rihanna.

QuantumFox: Holy shit! I hadn’t even thought of that! Poor Troy is heartbroken. Hearing his latest leaked song was painful. And now he might have to share an award with the woman responsible for that?

SereneDreamer: They haven’t won yet, so chill out. And I’m sure they’d both be professional about it.

DarkMatter69: Have you conveniently forgotten they’re teenagers? No way there isn’t some backstage drama.

PatAttack: Even if there is, it’ll stay backstage. Troy’s a world-class actor—he can ignore it in front of cameras.

QuantumFox: That’s the thing! Rihanna isn’t a world-class actress. (She’s not even a passable actress, but that’s another discussion.) I don’t think she’d be civil. Honestly, I don’t care if Troy wins any other award, but he has to win one of the two with Rihanna because I need to see what happens next.

LunaBliss: It’s possible Troy won’t even attend the Grammys—he skipped the Globes yesterday. And he won!

PatAttack: He didn’t! [Little Miss Sunshine] won, but Troy wasn’t credited as a producer.

LunaBliss: My bad! But it would’ve been nice to see him there. I know he was busy with his tour, but still...

SereneDreamer: Let’s just hope he’s free for the Grammys and the Oscars. The nominations for the latter come out next week. Fingers crossed.

(Break)

“Congratulations on the Grammy nominations, Troy.” Evan hugged me tightly, his excitement impossible to miss. “You deserve it.”

I chuckled, patting his back. “Right back at you, bro—your first major nomination.”

Evan was a co-nominee for Best Music Video alongside Stephen Daldry and me. Since he’d worked on the video of the song, the Recording Academy included him. They were far more flexible about credits than the Oscars. And it made sense. If Jay-Z and Beyoncé’s kids could win without ever creating music, why couldn’t Evan?

“I got a Golden Globe nod last year,” Evan pointed out.

“Yeah, but the EGOT is what you gotta watch out for,” I said. “That’s the real prize.”

Evan nodded. “What do you think the chances are of [Little Miss Sunshine] winning Best Picture at the Oscars?”

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” I said. “The Academy leans toward heavy dramas like [The Departed] over comedies.”

Its Golden Globe win hadn’t exactly surprised me. We scored seven nominations: Best Picture (Comedy or Musical), Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Actress (Comedy) for Toni Collette, Best Actor (Comedy) for Steve Carell, and Best Supporting Actor—shared by Alan Arkin and me.

On top of that, I was also nominated for Best Actor (Drama) for [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix], the film’s sole nomination.

Of our eight nods, we won two—Best Picture (Comedy or Musical) and Best Screenplay. The Globes aren’t always a great predictor for the Oscars, but they do shape the nominee field. It’s rare for a multi-Globe winner to be completely snubbed. Our major-category nominations were basically locked—but the final results were still up in the air.

“I’ve finished editing [Disturbia], by the way,” Evan said, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Oh?” I asked curiously. “Good. Let’s watch it later today. I have a meeting at Warner Bros for a project.”

“Which project?” Evan frowned. “I thought you didn’t like any of the scripts they offered you?”

I just smiled mysteriously, offering no answer at the moment. Instead, I grabbed my things and headed out, searching for my security guard to escort me.

What I didn’t show Evan was how nervous I actually was. This wasn’t just a meeting—it was an audition. My first audition in seven years. The last role I auditioned for was Harry Potter when I was ten. After that, I never had to audition.

Now, I could only hope I’d convince Christopher Nolan to give me this role.

On my way to Warner Bros HQ, I kept revisiting my lines, but it wasn’t just the words I needed to remember—it was the character’s nuances. Heath Ledger had given a once-in-a-lifetime performance as the Joker, and now, I wanted to bring that same energy into this timeline.

The Joker was one of the most unpredictable and menacing characters of the 21st century. To embody him, I had to tap into something I’d never done before.

(Break)

Christopher Nolan sat across from me, studying me in silence. He hadn’t spoken a single word since the meeting began—just stared at me with that analytical gaze.

“What do you think, Chris?” Dick finally broke the silence. “Isn’t this a genius strategy? Not to mention, the publicity we’d get when the film releases.”

“It’s a great idea,” Chris admitted reluctantly. “No offense, Troy, but we could use it with another actor as well. You’re very good—undoubtedly the best actor of your age. But that’s the problem: your age. No one will buy you as Batman’s archnemesis. Christian Bale is in his thirties.”

He gave me another once-over before adding, “Even if we use makeup, your body doesn’t fit the part.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Chris,” I said, “but wasn’t Christian Bale bone-thin when you first approached him? He’d just come off [The Machinist], where he was severely underweight. Yet, you still cast him as Batman.”

“That’s true,” Chris admitted. “But Bale had bulked up before, like in [American Psycho]. You’ve been well-defined in some of your films, but your naturally slim frame still makes you look younger. Were you five years older, or broader, I would seriously consider you.”

“Then confirm the role for me, and I’ll bulk up,” I promised. “Not enough to make Batman look weak, but enough that people won’t see me as a kid once I’m in costume.”

Chris still looked unconvinced.

Something had been bothering me, so I decided to ask, “Who else are you considering for the role?”

“My first choice was Heath Ledger,” Chris confessed. “Unfortunately, he’s tied up with another project, so it won’t work out. Makes sense—he is the most recent Best Actor winner. Other than him, I’m considering Matt Damon and Joaquin Phoenix, but I haven’t made a final decision yet.”

Heath Ledger dropping out of what would have been his most iconic role was news to me. And it was all because of my presence in the industry.

If Ledger hadn’t won the Oscar when he did, he’d be playing this role right now. Winning an Oscar changes everything—it drowns you in offers from every major studio. Everyone wants to capitalize on your newfound prestige, and salaries skyrocket. While Damon and Phoenix had also won Oscars in this timeline, their wins were years ago.

“Good choices,” I nodded at Chris. “But before you contact them, let me do a screen test. If you think I’m not delivering—other than my physique—I’ll step back happily.”

Chris considered it for a moment before nodding.

I got up and headed to the changing room to get into the Joker costume.

(Break)

As soon as Troy left to change, Dick turned to Nolan.

“He’s not wrong, you know. We took a big risk with Bale, and it paid off. The best part? We wouldn’t even be taking a risk with Troy. Even if his Joker isn’t the best, we’d still make a fortune because of him. His fanbase is loyal. Very loyal.”

“I want to make a good movie, Dick,” Nolan said, serious as ever. “This film will be my legacy when I’m long gone. I can’t half-ass it just because an actor thinks he’s right for the role.”

If he wanted to, Dick could have forced Nolan to cast Troy. But unlike Barry Meyer, he believed in fostering long-term relationships with visionary filmmakers like Chris Nolan.

At most, he could give Chris a list of actors to choose from. Both Damon and Phoenix were on that list, so he had no issue if either of them got the role. But casting Troy wasn’t just about [The Dark Knight]—it had bigger implications.

“Okay,” Dick relented. “Just keep in mind—even if you love his performance just now, don’t tell him. Not until we’ve signed him.”

Chris gave him a dubious look but eventually nodded. “Alright.”

Soon, a camera was set up, and Dick’s assistant, Ed, was called in to be Troy’s scene partner.

And then Troy walked in.

No.

Someone else did.

When Troy walked, his steps were usually measured and confident, his shoulders squared, his ever-present grin radiating easy charm—the kind that made him so likable to his fans.

But now? None of that remained.

His steps were chaotic, almost hesitant, as if even he didn’t know where he’d land next. His shoulders hunched inward, as if concealing something sinister. The signature purple suit and green waistcoat cemented the Joker’s presence, while the green wig added the final touch. But the most unsettling part was his makeup.

Unlike Jack Nicholson’s clean, porcelain-white face in [Batman] (1989), Troy’s approach was messy—deliberately so. Patches of bare skin peeked through the uneven white paint. His lips were smeared haphazardly, as if applied by an unsteady hand—lopsided, unsymmetric, wrong.

And then there were his eyes.

The dark rings of smeared black makeup made them look even wilder. Unhinged. There was no other word for it—Troy looked utterly batshit crazy.

Dick turned to Nolan in shock—only to see the director transfixed, unable to look away from the teen star.

“Let’s start the scene,” Nolan said, his voice almost breathless with excitement. “Action.”

The moment the word left his lips, Troy moved.

He snatched a pen off the table, then grabbed Dick’s assistant by the back of the head, his grip rough. The pen pressed into Ed’s cheek.

“Just five hundred for dead?” Troy’s voice was wrong—deeper, twisted, completely unrecognizable. It wasn’t his usual American accent from Perks or any of his other films. It was something else entirely.

An accent from nowhere. And yet, it fit.

“How ‘bout alive?”

Troy tilted his head, his movements unnatural, as if every joint moved a fraction too late. The camera captured every flicker of his expression. He leaned in, whispering into Ed’s ear, his grip tight.

“Do you know how I got these scars?”

Ed stiffened. A shiver ran through him.

“My father…” Troy’s gaze drifted, unfocused, as if lost in the memory. “…was a drinker. And a fiend.”

His whole body twitched. He shivered uncontrollably before his tongue darted out, licking his lips.

“And one night, he goes crazier than usual.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “Mommy gets the kitchen knife. To defend herself.” His head jerked suddenly, a violent tic. “He doesn’t like that. Not. One. Bit.”

Ed flinched. His breath quickened.

“So…” Troy continued, oblivious to Ed’s terror. “Me watching… he takes the knife to her. Laughing while he does it.”

Troy’s grip tightened on Ed’s head, his knuckles whitening.

“Then he turns to me and says… ‘Why. So. Serious. Son?’”

His free hand slowly brought the pen up to Ed’s face.

“He sticks the blade in my mouth.” Troy’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “‘Let’s put a smile on that face.’”

And then—Troy’s eyes flicked away from Ed and locked directly onto Christopher Nolan.

His next words came out in a whisper. “Why so serious?”

He kept staring at Nolan in defiance, until...

“Cut!”

The word barely left Nolan’s mouth before Ed jumped back, retreating several feet away from Troy. His breath was shaky, his hands trembling at his sides.

Dick was stunned.

How could this possibly be the same person who played Harry Potter? The charming, composed teen idol was gone—replaced by something unrecognizable. The makeup, the suit, the posture, the voice—nothing about this version of Troy Armitage bore even the slightest resemblance to the boy he knew.

Beside him, Christopher Nolan sat frozen, his expression mirroring Dick’s own disbelief.

They didn’t need to speak. They just exchanged a glance and in that brief moment, the decision had already been made.

A tense silence hung in the air—until Troy broke it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning to Ed. His voice was back to normal, warm and apologetic, the Joker’s manic edge completely gone. “I improvised with the pen. I should’ve asked first. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Ed blinked, still looking rattled.

“It’s… it’s okay,” he squeaked. Then, clearing his throat, he forced a steadier manly tone. “I mean, yeah, it’s fine. You were just—uh—doing your job, I guess.”

Troy gave him a crooked grin—still in full Joker makeup, still looking deeply unsettling.

Then, he turned to Nolan and Dick. “So,” he asked, slipping effortlessly back into his usual confidence. “What do you think?”

Nolan opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Dick stepped in smoothly.

“It was good,” he said carefully. “But we can’t make a decision right now. We need to show your audition to a few more people—Emma, for one.” He gestured toward Nolan. “Chris’ wife and producer.”

Troy gave a slow nod, his sharp gaze unreadable.

“Why don’t you get changed and meet me in my office?” Dick’s tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable weight behind it. “I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Sure,” Troy agreed immediately.

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving nothing but a lingering chill in the room.