….
It had only been a week since the production of the Harry Potter game officially began, and [Iron Man] was still deep in post-production.
But there was something else fast approaching that demanded the attention of Hollywood.
The Oscars.
And the Golden Globes.
Regal remembered last year's ceremony, the sudden accident that had changed everything, turning what should have been a celebration into something else entirely.
Not a pleasant memory.
But this year will be different.
[Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets] was competing in multiple categories, and he was confident they would walk away with several wins.
Technical categories at minimum, maybe a few surprises.
But that wasn't why he was sitting in a coffee shop in West Hollywood at eleven in the morning.
Ryan Reynolds sat across from him, looking simultaneously hopeful and guarded.
The kind of expression that came from being burned by the industry and trying not to show it.
Green Lantern had done that to him - taken a confident actor and left him questioning every choice.
Regal had heard the rumors: Reynolds had been considered for a major role, possibly a - Green Ranger, but after that disaster, opportunities backed off.
"So." Regal was straight in his question. "Did you read the comics? The material I sent over?"
Three weeks ago, Regal had messaged Ryan's agent with a package, every Deadpool comic available in this timeline.
Which wasn't many.
Deadpool has maybe twenty-seven comics published total in this world. He is barely a footnote in the Marvel universe. Most people have never heard of him.
So… The character existed but hadn't exploded into popularity yet.
Just a relatively obscure anti-hero with a healing factor and a mouth that never stopped running.
Regal hadn't explained why he was sending them.
Hadn't mentioned a project.
Just: Read these if you are interested.
There was a reason for that strategy. Regal didn't want Reynolds to accept a role because it was a job opportunity.
He wanted him to fall in love with Deadpool genuinely, organically, the way an actor needed to love a character to truly embody it.
Ryan had read them, obviously, otherwise he wouldn't be here.
"Yeah, I read them." Ryan said carefully. "All of them. Multiple times, actually."
"And?"
Ryan leaned back, and something shifted in his expression. The guardedness cracked slightly.
"He is batshit." Ryan said flatly. "Complete maniac. Dumb, stupid, annoying—" He wasn't stopping. "—inappropriate, violent, emotionally unstable, breaks the fourth wall for no reason, makes jokes during torture scenes—"
Regal was grinning now.
"—has literally zero respect for narrative structure, treats his own comic like a joke, and somehow—" Ryan paused, searching for words. "—somehow makes you care about him anyway. Like, you shouldn't. He's objectively terrible. But you do."
Regal grinned. "Haha, yeah, I get the gist of it."
He paused, studying Reynolds' face. "So you loved him?"
"What do I mean I loved him?" Ryan's eyes lit up. "I want to marry him. I want to have his extremely dysfunctional babies. I want to name them all after chimichangas."
Regal's laugh came louder this time, relief and satisfaction mixing together.
He had been worried for nothing.
Reynolds got it.
"Tell me you are making a movie about him." Ryan said, excitement bleeding into his voice, erasing years of disappointment in a single moment. "Tell me that's why we are here. Because if it's not, I AM going to pitch it to you right now and make you listen."
"Won't be needed… I have got a few scenes cooked up." Regal said. "In my mind. If we patch things together well enough, we can make a movie out of it."
Ryan froze. "Scenes? Not a... story?"
That clearly wasn't what Ryan expected.
Regal was known for meticulous scripting, and he had auditioned for a few roles in his films in the past too.
However, every time Regal was like, 'this isn't worth your time'.
Honestly, Reynolds felt Regal was simply being too modest, but contrary to his thoughts the both of them irrespective of not meeting directly had been in touch with each other's professional works.
It is no lie to say Reynolds knows what type of man Regal is…
So, the revelation that Regal had approached a project with just scenes seemed antithetical to everything his reputation suggested.
"Let me explain."
Regal said, and launched into it.
He didn't pull out a script. Didn't open a laptop or shuffle through papers. Instead, he just narrated, like two friends discussing a story they both loved.
He described Deadpool before his power of immortality, Wade Wilson, mercenary, cocky but vulnerable.
Then the cancer diagnosis. The desperation. The experimental treatment that gave him immortality but destroyed his appearance. The revenge plot. The slow-motion opening sequence set to music. The suit. The bloody, brutal action mixed with inappropriate humor. Adult jokes that pushed every boundary.
And luckily, Regal wasn't holding back.
Full R-rated violence, sexual content, fourth-wall breaks.
Everything that made 'Deadpool' the Deadpool.
Ryan listened, and his expression kept shifting - surprise, excitement, disbelief, then back to excitement.
Reynolds' eyes widened. "This is... R-rated doesn't even begin to cover it."
"I am aware."
"You made an R-rated comedy movie before, but this is different–
"This is brutal."
"It has to be." Regal said. "Deadpool isn't your everyday movie. Script? Story? Those things matter, sure. But it's the scenes that are important. The moments. The beats that make you laugh and wince at the same time. We need a story that strings those scenes together seamlessly, but that's not the top priority. The priority is capturing who Deadpool is."
Ryan was nodding now, processing.
On the other hand–
As Regal continued explaining, describing specific action sequences, joke setups, the emotional beats hidden under all the violence and humor, something happened.
His [Director] skill activated.
Ryan's eyes glazed slightly, and for three seconds, he wasn't sitting in a coffee shop anymore.
He was seeing it, actually seeing Deadpool.
The mask, katanas, his manic energy barely contained a red suit, jokes covering genuine pain, violence as catharsis, and the character in full, living color.
Then it snapped back, and Ryan was just sitting there, sweating slightly, breathing harder than he should be.
"Ryan?" Regal leaned forward, concerned. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am—" Ryan grabbed his water glass, downed half of it. "Sorry. Just got really into what you were describing."
Regal studied him carefully.
The skill had activated again, just like with Andrew Garfield during [Spider-Man]. But Ryan seemed less affected, maybe because Regal had more control now, or maybe because Ryan's personality was closer to Deadpool's chaos to begin with.
"You sure you are okay?"
"I am fine, better than fine." Ryan set down the glass. "Keep going. I want to hear the rest."
They talked for four more hours.
They talked for four more hours, bouncing ideas back and forth. Reynolds suggested scenes, Regal refined them. They debated tone, discussed supporting characters, argued about which jokes would work and which would fall flat.
It was collaborative in a way Regal rarely experienced, two creatives genuinely excited about the same vision.
Finally, as the sun began setting outside the windows, painting the studio lot in shades of orange and gold, Regal dropped the news.
"I won't be directing this movie."
Reynolds didn't seem surprised. "Makes sense. You have got a lot on your plate. But you have someone in mind, right? For the director?"
"No."
That surprised him. "No?"
"You can suggest names. Someone you think can pull this off, who understands the tone, can be flexible, and good at improvising on set and should be able to handle action." Regal finished his coffee. "This needs a director who is willing to be messy."
Ryan was quiet for a moment. "That's... a lot of trust."
Reynolds nodded slowly, already thinking through possibilities.
Then Regal mentioned the budget: seventy million dollars.
It was modest by Hollywood standards, especially compared to Regal's other projects.
But Reynolds didn't complain.
How could he? This was already a golden opportunity, a chance to resurrect his career with a character he had fallen in love with in a single afternoon.
Regal had chosen that number carefully.
In another world, in another timeline, Deadpool had been made for fifty-eight million in 2016.
This was 2013, and seventy million should be more than enough.
It was a modest budget for a superhero film, sure, but that would force them to focus on creative storytelling, witty dialogue, and humor over extensive special effects.
Sometimes limitations bred innovation.
As Reynolds stood to leave, shaking Regal's hand with genuine gratitude, Regal felt that familiar mixture of excitement and anxiety that came with starting something new.
Ryan stood as well, still holding the folder like it might disappear. "You could cast anyone? Someone with more box office pull, more—"
Regal butted in clearly already hearing the same question multiple times:
"Because you said you wanted to marry him. And that's the level of commitment this needs. Someone who loves the character enough to fight for him."
They walked out together into the late afternoon sun. Los Angeles traffic hummed around them.
Regal extended his hand. "Welcome to the MDC Universe, Wade Wilson."
Ryan shook it, and his grip was firm.
"Thank you." he said. "I won't screw this up."
"I know you won't. Because if you do, Deadpool will break the fourth wall and mock you for it in the actual film."
Ryan laughed, genuinely laughed, and some of that guardedness finally melted away completely.
As Regal drove home later, he thought about the skill activation.
About Ryan seeing Deadpool for those few seconds and whether he should be worried.
But Ryan had seemed fine.
Maybe the skill wasn't dangerous.
Showing people what was possible, giving them a glimpse of the vision so they could chase it themselves.
Or maybe Regal was justifying something he didn't fully understand.
Either way, Deadpool was happening.
And that was enough for now.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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