Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 340: Chapter 340 — Mickey Schulhof

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The room Henry entered was a small private lounge with its own bar.

The seating area was empty; instead, a man in a suit stood at the bar with his back turned.

Behind the counter was a female bartender with her hair tied in a ponytail. A crisp white shirt accentuated her well-shaped figure. When Henry walked in, she was deftly shaking a cocktail shaker. With a few sharp motions, she poured the drink into a stemmed glass. The liquid was clear and colorless, garnished with a strip of citrus peel.

From the scent Henry picked up, it was a vodka martini—made with vodka, gin, and vermouth. A very old-school classic cocktail.

The man at the bar picked up his drink, turned around, and raised it in a casual toast.

”Henry, at last we meet. I’m Mickey Schulhof.”

The attendant who had led Henry there closed the door and left.

Under Western etiquette, two strangers normally require an intermediary introduction. Without one, the host is expected to come forward to greet the guest. When there is a difference in status, at the very least a servant should make the introduction.

Here, there was no intermediary—only the two of them. In that instant, who moved first would define who held the upper hand.

As the inviter, Mickey Schulhof deliberately stayed by the bar, using his drink as an excuse. That forced Henry to step forward if he wanted to exchange greetings.

The man before him had clear Slavic features. His build was broad but not flabby, and his thick hair was a genuine advantage for someone his age. However, his expression was stern, his eyes shadowed. If looks reflected the heart, then this was a man beset by trouble—and likely scheming something unpleasant.

Henry did not respond immediately. Instead, he walked up to the bar, his gaze lingering unabashedly on the bartender’s most eye-catching attributes as he tapped the counter lightly.

”Miss, it’s scorching outside. I’m dying of thirst. Surprise me.”

He made his request, giving the bartender free rein. By the time he spoke, he was already standing right beside Mickey Schulhof.

Only then did Henry extend his hand and say,

”Henry Brown. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schulhof.”

It was an ill-timed gesture.

Schulhof’s right hand was holding his drink. For a brief moment, he was stuck—unable to raise the glass or set it down gracefully.

Had he smoothly put the glass aside and shaken hands, Henry would have been the one at fault for the faux pas. But Schulhof hesitated—and that hesitation gave Henry an opening.

Just as Schulhof placed the glass down and reached out, Henry put on an apologetic expression and switched to offering his left hand.

Schulhof was now embarrassed for the second time.

Henry’s behavior was borderline rude, but Schulhof’s hesitation made him look clumsy and exposed his discomfort. When Schulhof irritably switched to extend his left hand, Henry finally stopped playing games. Their hands met at last.

In that opening exchange, victory could be argued either way. But Schulhof knew one thing for certain: he had not achieved the effect he wanted.

Suppressing his irritation, Schulhof spoke again.

”Henry, have you seen Bad Boys?”

Henry looked at the older man’s faintly smug expression and, inwardly, had to admit it.

Directed by Michael Bay and starring Martin Lawrence and Will Smith, Bad Boys was indeed one of the few genuine commercial successes Sony had achieved after acquiring Columbia Pictures.

With a budget of $19 million, it grossed $141 million at the box office.

Henry answered candidly,

”Yes, I saw it. It’s one of Columbia’s rare recent successes. Forget the critics’ venom—commercial success is still success.”

Ignoring the subtle barb, Schulhof laughed.

”Ha! I like hearing that. Movies should be big productions if they’re going to make big money.

”It’s a shame Jon and Peter were so short-sighted and incompetent—only interested in lining their own pockets instead of making good films. Now that they’ve been fired, are you interested in taking over SPE?”

The offer came out of nowhere.

The bartender had just set a beer-based cocktail in front of Henry. As he reached for it, he paused for a split second before lifting the glass to his lips.

Schulhof noticed the hesitation immediately. His smile widened as he pressed on.

”Sony Pictures Entertainment—home of Columbia—isn’t some washed-up company like Stark Pictures. It’s on an entirely different level.

”Whether you want to make real films, or push your little girlfriend to stardom, isn’t this a far better stage? Stark Pictures barely produces one film a year—what can it really do for you?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Stark Pictures held an advantage in equipment, but compared to the true Hollywood majors of this era, the gap was enormous. Stark Pictures couldn’t strong-arm any of the Big Eight studios with equipment alone—not when it wasn’t the only supplier in the market.

Those major studios had their own soundstages and gear. They didn’t need to rent from Stark Pictures. Equipment rental was for independents and small production companies trying to cut costs.

If this weren’t the Marvel universe, the bait Schulhof dangled would have been extraordinarily tempting.

But even setting aside Tony Stark—the golden thigh Henry was currently hugging—Henry didn’t see Schulhof as a good bet.

”Mr. Schulhof,” Henry said calmly, ”I’ve heard SPE currently has no head. But can you really choose who takes that position?”

”As long as you show value, why would the Japanese refuse?” Schulhof replied smoothly.

”Your digital cameras are only HD for now. UHD is still in development, isn’t it? You can’t imagine how badly Sony wants that technology.”

”They want it, so I should just hand it over?” Henry smiled.

”Of course not for free,” Schulhof said.

”What I want is leverage—enough leverage to eventually take control of Sony itself. To do that, I need your help, Henry.”

”But Sony’s presidency has already gone to Nobuyuki Idei,” Henry replied.

”No,” Schulhof said sharply.

”Akio Ohga is still there. Idei is just a president in title, doing a vice-president’s job. He can be replaced. And don’t think my ambition stops at being Sony’s president.”

Henry raised an eyebrow.

”You’re not telling me you want the entire Sony.”

Schulhof’s eyes gleamed with near-fanatical intensity.

”Exactly. Don’t you think it’s time we taught those Japanese who brag about buying up America a lesson?

”When Sony stops being Japan’s Sony and becomes America’s Sony—just imagine their faces. As an American, doesn’t that make you feel proud?”

Once again—if this weren’t the Marvel universe, Henry might have agreed on the spot.

But taking someone else’s chips to win his own game—sprinkling a little profit back as ”compensation” while selling nothing but empty promises—was an old trick.

Henry had long since become immune to that brand of PUA-style bait.

So he merely let out a couple of dry chuckles.

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