The sun hadn't even begun to peek over the horizon; all was dark in Los Angeles, save for the glow of the city streetlights. It was still time for rest, but for some, the day had already begun.
Inside a grand house in Hancock Park, the digital clock on the nightstand read 4:15 AM. In the middle of the room, William, supported only by his palms and the tips of his toes, lowered and raised his body rhythmically, maintaining a posture perfectly parallel to the floor.
—82... 83... 84... —he murmured between each push-up without missing a beat.
The sweat glistening on his skin wasn't a sign of fatigue; it was simply the consequence of his light exertion. While his body was no longer by any means normal, William remained a flesh-and-blood human being; therefore, his organism functioned relatively the same. He thanked R.O.B. for that; it would be very awkward to explain why a man with no known illnesses never sweated.
'It's true what they say: there is no one wiser than the Creator,' he had thought the first time he tested his new body in this, his new reality.
Time had passed slowly since he first woke up in his new life: new body, new world.
'This year and a half has felt like an eternity,' he thought between push-ups. It was exactly one year and six months since he had died, met the Creator, and returned to life.
The reason time felt so slow was none other than the routine of his house arrest. William wasn't his original name, nor did he wake up in a baby's body; the body's former owner, while highly intelligent in some regards, had also been a wayward sheep in others.
The moment he obtained the body and its memories, he discovered a harsh reality: he had a second chance, yes, but he had to spend nearly two years under house arrest before he could step one foot past the front door.
William had been a second-generation rich kid, hidden from the world due to his status as an illegitimate son; born from his father's infidelity to his wife at the time. His mother had been the light of his life, but she passed away during his youth. Despite William's intelligence, the only reason he finished film school was the promise he had made to her before she died.
Throughout his youth, William had constant issues with drugs and was always chasing adrenaline and strong thrills, from extreme parkour to being the first in his friend group to try the newest trendy pills.
Amidst all the bad, fortunately, William also had good friends and allies who pushed him to finish his degree early and not lose himself completely. But, as if his destiny were written in stone, one day something happened that indirectly signed his death warrant.
William had agreed to meet one of his not-so-good friends. Obviously, both were high, and in a moment when William came out of a store bathroom, he found his friend being detained by the police far too roughly, with a glint of racist contempt in their eyes.
Under the influence, he didn't stay put and attacked the officers directly, which inevitably ended with him beaten, arrested, and processed in court.
Thanks to the hidden hand of his powerful father and a team of expert lawyers, the sentence ended up being two years of house arrest. The old William only lasted two months of that before self-medicating until, finally, his heart stopped working.
'It's incredible how that kid let his life go to waste,' the current William thought as he stood up.
'The former William's artistic talent was recognized by many, but obviously, he never took entering show business seriously after his mother died.' The truth was that it was entirely his fault, as he always had people supporting him; he couldn't say he was one of those cases where he was alone and lost. Furthermore, his traumas weren't severe enough to reach such extremes.
From the current William's perspective—possessing all his memories—the kid had chosen the easy way out. Though he wasn't really one to judge, since in his past life he hadn't exactly been a Little Sister of the Poor; he didn't even know how many young people like this one had suffered because of the products he sold on the black market until he decided to leave that life and dedicate himself to show business.
'Anyway, the past is the past. Now I just have to look forward and seize this second life. I know I probably have plot armor on my side, but I can't wait for everything to fall from the sky.'
'If that angel hadn't messed up reaping my soul when it wasn't my time, R.O.B. wouldn't have compensated me with this second chance.'
'I already promised I'd try to be a better person within reason, even if just faking it, so I have a long road ahead.'
'In less than two months, I'll finally be able to go out and play with Hollywood.' Between thoughts, William glanced at the electronic ankle monitor but paid it no mind.
The clock read 4:20 AM. His minutes of light exercise were over; it was time to move on to more important matters that would be the foundation of his future in this new life, in Hollywood, and in the world. Of course, he headed quickly to the bathroom first; ideas flowed better with a fresh body.
William took a quick cold shower. Stepping out, he stood before a mirror and, just like every day since he woke up, admired his new body. He was a bit narcissistic, but he couldn't help it: he had been blessed.
William's body was nothing short of perfect. Aside from his attractive face, blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and 6'1" height, what made him waste time admiring himself was the body itself and the abilities he had acquired.
—This definition and the power I feel under my skin is out of this world —he murmured while looking at his deeply defined abs.
This was his first blessing. William's fascination wasn't simply about having a nice, strong body; it was about what lay beneath: the capacity to mold his physique almost at will without losing his attributes of strength, flexibility, and endurance.
—This is the third time I've done it, and it's still just as mind-blowing —his thoughts escaped his lips.
During his confinement, William had already let himself go three times, slimming down to the extreme until he could see his ribs, and then, with a simple month of light natural training and good diet, his body returned to its powerful, muscular habitus, like the one he saw in the mirror now.
—It's an excellent ability to be considered a physical method actor. I could be *The Machinist* for two months and by the fourth be the lead in an action saga that sells more on the protagonist's physique than a good story —he said to the wind. For an entertainment addict like William, who wanted to be a master in all categories, having acting skills that were not just facial but corporal was a blessing in every sense of the word.
—It's possible that to get my first roles I'll have to rely on my physique and looks, so it's better to stay like this for now —after all, there were barely two months left of this lockdown.
William moved away from the mirror, finished drying off, and dressed casually in sweatpants and a sweater. (Not without flashing a small smirk at his incredible little brother in the mirror out of the corner of his eye).
Leaving the bathroom and grabbing his laptop from the bedroom, he prepared a light snack in the kitchen and walked calmly to the sofa in the living room, where he lay back to work.
William opened the laptop after taking a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. The screen was practically empty, but when he entered his personal folder, there were more than thirty files—all with familiar names if anyone from his past life were to take a look.
The document titles ranged from *Gone Girl* to *Banshee*, passing through *The Lighthouse* to *The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair*; more than three dozen horror, mystery, and crime stories that would, at some point and in one way or another, become classics.
The reason for this was simple and closely related to the second blessing of his reincarnation, but also his own idea. In the past, he had read various Hollywood Fanfictions, added to his real-life experience, and realized one thing...
Why didn't directors, whether they secured funding for their projects or not, release the stories they wrote in book format?
It was well known that Hollywood was often rife with copyright and plagiarism issues. Add to that the common knowledge that if a movie adapted from a book performed well, sales of the original books skyrocketed, leaving massive profits for both the publisher and the writer.
The conclusion William had reached was... Secure rights to future works, make money, and make a name in the industry by publishing incredibly popular books. Hence, with so much free time and the blessing of photographic memory from both his current and past lives, William began writing every work he could to publish as books at the right moment.
—It's genius, at least in my mind it feels that way —he murmured as he created a blank text document.
Though, of course, his mental ability wasn't reduced to simple photographic memory; his mental capacity had been highly enhanced with the power to learn and process new things in a short period. For example, in this year and six months—today being September 2006—William could already boast of having acquired basic skills in Hacking, Programming, and AV Editing.
That, and the fact that by processing everything faster and having a body that could keep up with the speed of his thoughts, writing books by copying directly from his memories became a record-breaking task; a record that would never be made public, of course.
William, with the memories he had acquired during his degree and his past life, was at a starting point where, even with minimal technical specs, he could already reach the level to direct a film on his own.
A year and six months locked up had honestly been great for him; otherwise, like his reincarnated colleagues in Hollywood, he would have dived headfirst into trying to make a movie the moment he opened his eyes.
Anyway, back to the task at hand. So far, William had focused primarily on horror, thriller, and crime stories.
These stories all carried weight, and in their time had achieved a film adaptation; or conversely, William had transformed a couple of stories that premiered directly as series or movies into book format to secure the copyrights, and his hand hadn't trembled in plagiarizing these future works.
Amidst all this, there was just one small issue: he didn't have a consistent saga under his name. At this point in history, 2006, most of his favorite and highest-grossing sagas already existed: *Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, The Matrix*, and even the hated and loved *Fast and Furious* franchise.
—It's a bit risky what I'm about to do, but I suppose there are times when it pays to take a risk —he murmured to himself as his fingers typed rapidly.
On the blank document, the title **"The Hunger Games"** appeared in bold. It was risky to write it simply because of the proximity of the dates; its author had published it in 2008, so it wasn't a stretch to say she could have been writing it beforehand.
In his past life, William had read that the author wrote it from one year to the next, and that gave him the confidence to claim it at such a close date. That, and the third gift he had been blessed with: **Luck x3**. Simply put, William was a person who could go through life depending on luck, even if he didn't entirely like that.
*The Hunger Games* was a Young Adult saga that would eventually sell more than 100 million copies worldwide and wouldn't bring as much controversy to his name as venturing to write *Twilight* or *50 Shades of Grey*. Those last two, even under a pseudonym, would eventually affect his reputation as much or more than Nolan was affected at the Oscars for making superhero movies.
—The Hunger Games is perfect as a Young Adult saga; even its sequels and prequel had great sales regardless of whether the 'true fans' liked them more or less.
—Of course, I'll also take the time to fill in a plot hole or two to make it even better and more consistent in its arguments.
—As for the other two, I hope that when the time comes, I'll have enough power to buy the rights. And while I won't act in or direct either of them, I will have them under my own production company; a production company that will take the majority of the millions those two sagas that drove hormonal teenagers crazy will rake in.
In barely ten seconds, William finally finished his sandwich and, with determination in his eyes but a relaxed demeanor, was ready to start writing.
The beginning was the most important part. William started quickly, writing from the female protagonist's perspective, copying George R. R. Martin's POV writing format from *A Song of Ice and Fire*.
In just a few pages, William strove to show what Katniss Everdeen's life was like with her mother and sister before leaving the house, the fear haunting her as the reaping date approached, and some brushstrokes of what this new world under construction was like.
In another couple of pages, her interaction with her best friend Gale while hunting, hinting at Katniss's skill with the bow and a bit more information on what North America had become, letting the reader glimpse what the 12 districts were before finally returning home and ending the first POV.
On this occasion, unlike the original, while Katniss would also be the protagonist, he wouldn't give her permanent attention. William had decided to add points of view from other characters as well, which would add richness to the story and make it easier to understand and grow fond of them, rather than simply knowing they were there as just another literary device.
—It's a good start, but I still have to improve some dialogue —he told himself while cracking his knuckles before quickly thinking about how and with which character to continue.
There was the obvious option of a Gale POV, a character he had already introduced. He also couldn't rule out briefly telling Peeta's life story before the trials, although on second thought, Peeta's past before being chosen as a tribute was better served as something to be told in a conversation between him and Katniss while resting after some trial, deepening their trust in one another.
Haymitch wasn't a character that suited an introduction before the right moment, and let's not even talk about President Snow. So, after thinking about it for a few seconds, William decided on a Gale POV, where we would see his thoughts on Katniss and his not-so-sweet way of acting when not with her; this would steer him in the opposite direction of the romance everyone would expect and justify from the start his future shifts in attitude, including being complicit in civilian casualties and his more extreme ideas in the war to come.
The moment he had his ideas clear, William prepared to start writing, but...
*Knock, knock!*
He didn't even get to finish when he heard two sharp raps on the window.
As soon as he heard this, a mischievous smile formed on William's lips. The sound wasn't a coincidence; it was a signal, a warning that a visitor had arrived.
William closed the laptop calmly. He stood up, stretching his body with the elegance of a cat, and walked toward the kitchen window. In the yard, there was a human silhouette defying the mansion's security.
—Hello, Mr. Intruder. I see you've already mastered the blind spots —he murmured from his position, and an almost imperceptible smile appeared on his face.
This was one of the advantages of having studied the blind spots of the cameras installed by the police: some of his friends could pay a visit without needing to process a permit beforehand.
—I hope you bring good news —William murmured before heading to the second floor, from where he would take advantage of one of the blind spots to climb down the window and meet his guest.
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Hello. I hope we get to talk a lot from now on. I know it's early, but please don't hesitate to share your ideas in the comments and your opinion on what you think of the story so far.
This is my first Fanfiction that I'm going to start writing for real, as my previous ones never made it past the idea stage. In the "information and warnings" I already posted, you can find everything you need to know before reading; feel free to take a look before continuing with the story.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it or at least found it entertaining.