Chapter 4 – Rogue on the Rooftop (Full Rewrite, 1,300+ Words)
The rooftop was not meant for people.
That was the first truth Ivar noticed when he pushed through the heavy steel door and felt it clank shut behind him. It wasn't landscaped or designed for cocktails like the kind of hotel that charged you for fresh air. This roof was gravel and grit, humming machinery, chain-link fence, a few bent beer cans that told you workers had been here when they shouldn't have been. The HVAC unit groaned like a bored animal.
But above all that ugliness: sky.
The whole of Los Angeles stretched in every direction, glittering in the mid-afternoon sun. Billboards the size of sins. Glass towers that reflected a city that never entirely believed in itself. A skyline full of liars and dreamers, some in the same body.
Ivar Teller liked it. Not because it was pretty. Because it was honest.
Louise walked out behind him, folding her arms against the wind. Her braid flicked like a whip when she turned her head. "Rooftop? You're sure this isn't a little…dramatic?"
"Dramatic is the language of this city," Ivar said. "If you want to get through to someone like Megan Fox, you don't sit in a boardroom with bottled water. You bring her to a place that feels like it shouldn't exist. Like her."
Louise smirked, eyes sharp. "So what are you going to do, Teller? Hand her a cape and tell her to fly?"
He was about to answer when the door groaned open again.
Boots on gravel.
She came out like she had been sent by central casting to play herself. Leather jacket cropped at the waist. Black jeans hugging her legs like armor. Hair loose, gleaming in the sunlight that didn't dare flatten her. Her expression wasn't a smile. Wasn't a frown either. It was the look of a woman who had spent years listening to men talk and wondering how many of them actually believed themselves.
Megan Fox didn't greet them. She looked around first. Scanned the rooftop, scanned the horizon, then scanned them. Finally, she said: "This is the pitch?"
"This is the view," Ivar said, hands in his pockets. "The pitch comes after."
She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "I've heard pitches since I was seventeen. Most of them came from suits who thought I'd sit there, smile, and nod. Why is yours different?"
"Because mine starts with truth," Ivar said.
Louise stepped up, her voice clear. "We want you as Batwoman. Not as eye candy. Not as decoration. As the fire. The storm. The center."
For the first time, Megan's lip curved into a small laugh. "Smart. You let her talk first. Usually the girl is window dressing."
"I let the anchor go first," Ivar said. "I'm just the storm."
The wind caught his words and pushed them toward the horizon.
Megan crossed her arms. "What makes you think I want another cape in my life? I've already played the hot girl. I've already been the poster. I've already had the studio execs cut the good lines because they wanted me to look pretty and shut up. Why would I ever crawl back into that cage?"
"Because this isn't a cage," Ivar said softly. He stepped closer to the edge of the roof, wind pulling his jacket tight against his frame. "It's a rooftop. And rooftops are for people who won't stay grounded."
She tilted her head, studying him. "That's a nice metaphor. Still a metaphor."
"Then here's something real," he said, pulling out his phone. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the slate of projects already mapped, already signed or in the works: Arrowverse, Titans, Doom Patrol, Constantine, Lucifer. Each logo, each arc, connected with color-coded lines. He turned the screen to face her. "Every world tied together. Crossovers written into the DNA. Batwoman is not a side note here. She's the spine. You get storylines. You get agency. You piss off the right men and inspire the right kids. That's not metaphor. That's a plan."
Megan looked down at the glowing screen. Then back up at him. "And you expect me to believe you won't cut me down once the real money men come into the room?"
Louise stepped closer, her green eyes unflinching. "Because I'll be in the room too. And because he doesn't do cages. Not for himself. Not for anyone he respects."
The air between the two women was taut, not hostile but charged. Like lightning that hadn't decided where to strike.
Megan studied Louise, then laughed quietly. "You're dangerous."
Louise's lips curved. "You have no idea."
Ivar let the tension sit for a heartbeat before stepping into it. "Megan, listen. I'm not here to sell you a gig. I'm here to ask you to set fire to a system that keeps telling women like you they're replaceable. I don't want you smiling in the background of somebody else's redemption arc. I want you bloody, flawed, loud, leading. A rooftop with a fire."
For a long moment, she said nothing. She turned her eyes out to the city—glass towers glittering like promises no one intended to keep. The wind pulled her hair across her face and she didn't brush it back.
Finally, she spoke. "Do you know what it's like to be treated like a body first, an actress second, and a human never? I've walked into auditions where men didn't even look me in the eye. I've had dialogue cut so the camera could linger on my chest instead of my mouth. I've had people call me ungrateful when I asked for roles with depth. And every time, every single time, they acted like I should be thankful to even be there."
Her voice cracked then, not with weakness but with fury that had learned endurance. "So why should I trust you? You're another man with another empire."
Ivar didn't flinch. He didn't try to soften. He just said, calm and certain: "Because I don't want you in my empire. I want you to help me build it."
Silence. The kind that weighs.
Megan searched his face for the lie. There wasn't one.
Louise stepped forward, closing the last few inches. Her voice was gentler now. "You won't be decoration. You'll be definition. That's the difference."
Megan looked between them. At Louise's steady eyes. At Ivar's storm-bright certainty. She let out a breath that trembled. "Say the line again. The one about the fire."
"Rooftops are cold," Ivar said, voice low. "Bring a fire."
"And you're the fire?"
He shook his head. "I'm the storm. The fire is whoever carries it."
A beat. Then another. Finally, Megan laughed—sharp, amused, unwilling to give them too much satisfaction. "You're trouble, Teller."
"Yes."
"And you're chaos."
"Always."
"And you," she said, pointing at Louise, "you're the one who makes sure he doesn't burn the house down?"
"I make sure he burns the right houses," Louise said.
That made Megan laugh harder. She ran a hand through her hair, turned to the city again, then nodded once, sharp as a blade. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll be your Batwoman. But on one condition."
"Name it," Ivar said.
"She doesn't get shoved behind Batman. She doesn't get sidelined in crossovers. She leads. She bleeds. She gets to be messy and angry and alive. If you want me, you give her the room to be human."
"Done," Ivar said instantly. No hesitation.
Megan studied him again, then offered her hand. Louise extended hers first. Megan shook it, firm, looking at Ivar over her shoulder. "You screw me, Teller, and I walk. I don't care how big this storm is."
"I'd expect nothing less," he said. "But you won't walk. Because I don't build cages."
For the first time that afternoon, Megan smiled fully. "Then let's light the rooftop."
The deal was sealed not with contracts, not with lawyers, but with gravel underfoot and sky overhead. Sometimes that's all you need.
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That night, back at the hotel, Louise watched him scribble on the pad of hotel stationery. His handwriting was fast, jagged, full of momentum:
Megan Fox confirmed – Batwoman
Louise – Rogue / Zatanna
Courtney – Arrowverse recurring roles
Stan meeting – finalize Phase One Marvel plan
Fox negotiations – position for acquisition
"You look like you just stole heaven's pen," Louise said, brushing her hair out as she leaned against the headboard.
He grinned, cigarette smoke curling in lazy trails. "No. I just convinced heaven to sign in my ink."
Louise rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
And somewhere across town, Megan Fox stood at her own window, looking out over Los Angeles. For the first time in years, she felt the cage door wasn't just open. It was gone.
She whispered it to herself, a word like a promise.
"Batwoman."
And outside, the city lights flickered like stars daring her to burn brighter.
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Word Count: ~1,300✅
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Do you want me to push Chapter 5 (Fox negotiations turning into a corporate battlefield) right away at this same length, or do you want to linger on Megan's entry a little longer with a transitional chapter showing her first training screen test as Batwoman?