Tycoon Actor C521 (Patreon)

When the conversation shifted to the world tour, Lucas gestured toward his home studio. "Come on, let me show you something."

They headed down the hall to a dedicated recording space. Modern setup, soundproofing, clean design. Professional but personal.

Lucas pulled up a few track samples he'd been working on. Scott listened, genuinely impressed. The guy could act, write, and produce music at this level? It was almost unfair.

"Man, you're really doing it all," Scott said. Then, trying to sound casual: "But with a whole world tour... what happens to the acting stuff?"

Lucas caught the real question underneath. Scott was worried about Joker 2.

"I'll work it out," Lucas said. "Tour dates can flex around filming schedules. Do a month of concerts, take two weeks for script work or shooting, another leg of the tour, back to set. It's tight but doable."

Scott relaxed visibly. "That's good to hear."

"Besides," Lucas added, "music keeps me sane. When acting gets too heavy, I switch. Keeps both sides fresh."

"Makes sense." Scott paused. "Actually, speaking of music—your song 'Hurt' would be perfect for Joker 2. I'm thinking we could work it in somehow." He waved his hand. "I mean, nothing's set yet. We can talk about it when you officially sign on."

Lucas leaned against the desk. "We can talk about it now. That's why you're here, right?"

Scott laughed. "Yeah, you got me." He leaned forward. "Look, you're the one who got Joker made in the first place. You wrote it. Don't you want to see where the story goes next?"

Lucas smiled slightly. Technically, in this world, he was credited as the original writer. But it was still Todd and Scott who'd done the heavy lifting. He'd just pushed it into existence earlier.

"Do you and Todd have a rough outline yet?" Lucas asked, steering the conversation.

In his previous life, Joker 2 had crashed hard. The sequel went in a bizarre direction—turned into something more like a musical courtroom drama that alienated the fanbase. Many thought Todd had sabotaged it on purpose because he didn't want to make a sequel. Lucas wasn't sure if that was true, but the end result had been a mess.

He needed to know if this version would go down the same path.

Scott pulled out his phone, scrolled through files, and sent Lucas a PDF. "Just sent you what we've got so far."

Lucas opened it on his laptop. Scanned through the outline.

Interesting. The structure was different. There was no weird musical angle dominating the plot. No courtroom shenanigans that felt disconnected from the first film's tone. This felt more grounded, more focused on Arthur's psychology.

Still rough, but not heading toward disaster.

"What do you think?" Scott asked. "Todd and I are waiting for your input. If you want to add stuff, change things—whatever. It's your call."

Lucas nodded slowly. "Who's got final creative control? Todd?"

Scott looked confused. "Todd? No. Why would he have full control?" He shrugged. "Actually, the studio said if you want it, you can have it. But that's a lot for an actor to handle on top of everything else."

He said it with a slight nostalgia. Back in 2015, Lucas hadn't been this big yet. The studio treated him differently then. So did Scott and Todd.

Lucas thought about it. Full creative control meant he could steer this away from whatever mistakes the original timeline had made. But it also meant more responsibility, more time commitment.

"Let me think about it," Lucas said finally. "I want to read the full script first before committing to anything."

"Fair enough." Scott stood. "No pressure. Just... the studio's really hoping you'll come back. And honestly? So am I. The first one worked because of you."

Lucas walked him back to the door. "I'll look it over and get back to you soon."

After Scott left, Lucas sat back down at his laptop, staring at the PDF.

Joker 2. A world tour. Dune. Oppenheimer. Marvel potentially wanting more Ghost Rider.

Too much. Way too much.

He closed the laptop and decided to focus on something simpler: making music as Lucid.

That's what he loved about the anonymous persona. No polish required. No agency executives breathing down his neck about "brand image." If he thought a song was good enough, he just dropped it.

As Lucas Knight? Every release went through Neil, the label, marketing teams. Everything had to be pristine, radio-ready, perfect. His image was too valuable now. Hell, he probably couldn't even clap back at Trump on Twitter anymore if the president started shit.

So over the next few days, Lucas went on a creative binge. Five songs, all dropping under Lucid's Spotify.

First: "What You Meant" ([link](https://drive.google.com/file/d/15GszeG7bP8j7xaThK2x9tF8REdVoJnX2/view?usp=drivesdk)) - a track about miscommunication in relationships, couples drifting apart over things that were never actually said.

Second: "Close To Me" ([link](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gyEYP5HjZFlxTfwGXt2sTkbYVVjSvfTE/view?usp=drivesdk)) - a straight-up romantic song, softer vibe.

Third: "Built Different" ([link](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1TvVMF4TElF6xOPkWOREIFZZmfwmO4Ndx/view?usp=drivesdk)) - motivational track, an evolved version of "Keep Going" with more energy.

Fourth: "Everybody Knew" ([link](https://drive.google.com/file/d/175ZF-DJ_Dv0dpjtlvkIXuNI5UyrB7TiW/view?usp=drivesdk)) - a rock song absolutely ripping into Hollywood hypocrisy.

And last: "Gehenna" ([link](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1TI-r33bqCZ9U37eNNXwmmDz0ezGoZDfk/view?usp=drivesdk)) - dark, haunting track about a grim reaper bringing justice to corrupt elites.

Making these experimental tracks under his alter-ego? Actually fun.

---

Time passed, and Lucid's comeback exploded online.

Lucid had built serious credibility—collabs with Marshmello, a three-way track with BTS back when they were still rising. Now with five new songs dropping simultaneously, fans went wild trying to figure out who was behind the anonymous producer persona.

The speculation wasn't new. A few years back, some media outlets theorized that Lucid was actually Lucas Knight. Same vocal range, similar versatility in style.

But the theory never stuck. Not enough proof beyond voice similarities. Plus, Lucid kept switching genres—dark pop with "Gehenna," romance with "Close To Me," rock with "Everybody Knew." Just like Lucas's own discography. Versatile as hell.

Still didn't prove anything.

But "Everybody Knew" reignited the debate. The lyrics explicitly mentioned having an Oscar on the shelf. It criticized Hollywood openly, calling out hypocrisy, corruption, performative activism.

Lucid wasn't hiding anything. He was going after the industry directly.

Fans who already hated Hollywood's fake virtue-signaling latched onto "Everybody Knew" immediately. And some started connecting dots back to Lucas.

"The voice is too similar to ignore. And now Lucid drops a song about having an Oscar and calling out Hollywood right when Lucas is everywhere? Come on"

"Both switch genres constantly. Both disappeared and came back at weird times. I'm convinced Lucid IS Lucas Knight using an alter ego to say what he can't say publicly"

But not all fans were assuming Lucid was Lucas. There was another camp that thought otherwise.

"Y'all are missing the obvious. This song is a CALLOUT. 'Playing hero in a thirty-million-dollar suit'—Lucas just did Ghost Rider. This is Lucid going after Lucas directly"

"Exactly. The timing makes it clear. Lucas becomes Hollywood's golden boy, takes Disney's money, does that motorcycle stunt for promotion, and suddenly Lucid comes back throwing shade? Someone's got a problem with how corporate Lucas has become"

"It's not just Lucas though. It's all of them. The celebrities who lecture us about climate change then fly private jets. Who preach equality while living in mansions. Lucid is calling out the entire industry—Lucas just happens to be the biggest example right now"

Twitter exploded with both theories:

"Either Lucid IS Lucas being self-aware, or Lucid is DRAGGING Lucas for selling out. Either way this song hits different"

"Whether Lucid is Lucas or calling out Lucas, that song is about Hollywood hypocrisy and Lucas Knight is exhibit A right now"

Vine blew up with 6-second clips—some showing Lucas at premieres with "everybody knew" playing over it, others doing split-screens of Lucas's charitable work versus his Marvel paychecks.

Nobody had definitive proof of who Lucid was or what the song really meant, but the speculation was louder than ever.

---

Meanwhile, Neil sat in his office listening through Lucid's new releases.

He made it through "What You Meant," "Close To Me," "Built Different"—all solid. Then "Everybody Knew" started playing.

By the first chorus, Neil almost choked on his coffee.

"What the hell is he thinking?" Neil muttered, pausing the track. "Criticizing Hollywood this openly? Is he trying to out himself?"

He replayed it, catching the Oscar line, the lyrics about playing heroes while villains cut checks, the jab at celebrities lecturing people while flying private.

This wasn't subtle. This was Lucas taking shots at his own industry—at himself, essentially.

Neil switched to "What You Meant" next. Listened to the lyrics about miscommunication, relationships falling apart over assumptions.

His stomach tightened. "Are he and Jennifer having problems?"

He tried to brush it off, but worry crept in. Lucas had been grinding nonstop—Barbie, Ghost Rider, now planning a world tour. That kind of schedule destroyed relationships.

Neil grabbed his phone. "I need to check on this guy."

After all, he was Lucas's manager. Looking out for his most important client wasn't just business—it was his job.

He texted Lucas: We need to talk. When are you free?

The reply came quick: Busy week. What's up?

Neil typed back: Just want to make sure you're good. Call me when you get a chance.

After setting his phone down, Neil still felt uneasy. He replayed "Everybody Knew" in his head—the song basically torched Hollywood, Lucas, himself as a manager. Everyone.

He rubbed his temples. 'Christ, this guy. At least the agency doesn't know Lucid is actually Lucas. They'd have the song pulled down in a heartbeat if they did.'

He stood up. He needed to see Lucas in person.

---

Back at the Bel Air house, Lucas was checking his Lucid numbers. Within a single day, the songs had all crossed a million plays.

"What You Meant" was leading at 1.34 million. "Built Different" right behind at 1.2 million. And "Everybody Knew"—the one openly roasting Hollywood—sat at 1.09 million.

Lucas chuckled. That song had been pure catharsis. Everything he felt about the industry, distilled into three minutes.

The doorbell rang. Jack appeared moments later with Neil following.

"Neil." Lucas stood. "Didn't expect you today."

Neil looked him over—checking for signs of exhaustion, stress, breakdown. But Lucas looked fine. Relaxed, even.

Neil exhaled hard. "Thank god."

Lucas frowned. "What's wrong? You look like you just ran a marathon. Sit down before you pass out."

He gestured to the maid for water.

Neil collapsed onto the sofa. "You had me worried, man."

"Worried about what? I haven't done anything crazy lately." Lucas paused. "I haven't done another stunt, have I?"

Neil gave him a look. "No stunts. But what the hell are you doing with your music? I've been listening to your Lucid releases and some of those songs..." He trailed off.

"'Everybody Knew'?" Lucas guessed.

"There's that," Neil said. "But honestly? I didn't come here about that one. I came because of 'What You Meant.'"

He hesitated. "Look, I know it's not my place, but... are you and Jennifer having problems?"

Lucas blinked, surprised. Then he laughed. "What? No. We're fine."

"You sure? Because that song—"

"It's just a song," Lucas said. "I imagined a relationship going cold and wrote about it. Creative exercise. Nothing personal."

Neil stared at him for a long moment. Then sighed. "Okay. If you say so."

"What did you think was happening?" Lucas asked, amused.

"You released a song trashing yourself and the entire industry, then dropped another one about a failing relationship. I figured maybe the workload was getting to you. That Jennifer was fed up or something."

Lucas shook his head. "She gets it. She's working on her own projects right now. We're good at giving each other space."

"Alright." Neil seemed to relax slightly. Then: "But seriously, what were you thinking with 'Everybody Knew'? You're basically calling out the whole industry."

"It's called free speech. And creativity."

Neil raised an eyebrow.

Lucas leaned back. The truth was, that song was more about himself than anyone else. A reminder. He'd been preaching things he was also guilty of—taking the big paychecks, playing the game, staying quiet when maybe he shouldn't.

He wanted people to think differently, sure. But who was he to lecture anyone? He wasn't Jimmy Kimmel or some political commentator. That wasn't his lane. He could only control what was in his own reach.

"Still," Neil said, "that song would've caused a shitstorm if you'd released it as Lucas Knight. Good thing you kept it under Lucid."

"That's the whole point of having an alter ego," Lucas said. "I can say what I actually think without torching my career."

Neil shook his head. "Just... maybe warn me next time before you drop a bomb like that?"

Lucas grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

Neil shook his head. This was the trade-off with managing someone as big as Lucas—everything became a potential PR crisis. He had to constantly think three steps ahead.

It used to be simpler. Back when Lucas was still building his career, Neil could relax a bit. Now? Every move mattered.

At least he had a whole PR team backing him up. Whenever controversy popped up around Lucas—and it always did with stars this big—they jumped on it immediately, controlled the narrative, minimized damage.

Fortunately, Lucas made their job easy. Clean background. No skeletons in the closet. No scandals waiting to explode.

"So," Lucas said, breaking Neil's train of thought. "Any interesting projects come through? Especially the game stuff I asked about?"

Neil straightened. Right. That.

Lucas had been pretty vocal about wanting to do a video game project. Didn't even care if it was a major role—he just wanted the experience of playing a game character.

"Actually, yeah. A few studios have been reaching out directly because of your Ghost Rider performance," Neil said. "They saw how well you acted even under all that CGI. Mocap companies are salivating."

Lucas perked up. "Can I see what they sent?"

Neil gave him a look. "You literally just finished wrapping Ghost Rider promotion. Now you want more work?"

"Just curious."

"You're a workaholic."

Lucas grinned. "So?"

Neil sighed. "Fine. I'll send you the list later." He pulled out his phone, scrolling through notes. "But listen, we've also been finalizing your world tour schedule. We're starting in North America, then Europe, Asia, Oceania, and wrapping with Latin America."

Lucas nodded. The idea of touring globally was actually exciting. Different crowds, different energy.

"We've also been talking to some big names about guest appearances," Neil continued. "Taylor Swift, Bruno Mars—people who can really move tickets. If we lock them down, venues are gonna sell out instantly."

"Guest appearances sound good," Lucas said. "Keeps it fresh."

"Yeah." Neil leaned back. "Plus, tickets are a huge business. Your last concert sold out in minutes. A full world tour? We're talking massive revenue."

Honestly, Neil was pretty confident Lucas could sell out stadiums on his own. The guy could sing and dance—his Elvis performance proved that. But bringing in famous artists? That was insurance. Extra firepower.

If they pulled this off right, Lucas wouldn't just be a movie star who did music on the side. He'd be cemented as a genuine Michael Jackson-level entertainer.

Multi-hyphenate didn't even cover it.

---

Ghost Rider had a strong theatrical run through the holiday season. By late December, the numbers were finalized.

Final worldwide box office: $1.52 billion.

The buzz had died down by then—audiences had moved on to New Year releases. But those numbers didn't need hype to make an impact. Hollywood was paying attention.

And while Ghost Rider dominated the box office, Lucas had been quietly working on something else entirely—his long-promised return to music.

In early January 2020, his agency made it official.

LUCAS KNIGHT: WORLD TOUR 2020

North America: May - June

Europe: July - August

Asia: September - October

Oceania: November

Latin America: December 2020 - January 2021

The internet exploded.

Twitter crashed briefly from the traffic spike. Ticketmaster's website went down within minutes of presale links going live.

Fans worldwide lost their minds.

"LUCAS IS FINALLY DOING A WORLD TOUR I'M SCREAMING"

"May can't come fast enough omg"

"He's coming to Asia I'm gonna cry actual tears"

What made the timing even better—the pandemic that had gripped the world back in 2018 was finally receding. Vaccination rates were up. Travel restrictions were easing. Large gatherings were becoming feasible again.

A world tour in 2020 actually made sense now.

"Perfect timing," one fan tweeted. "We survived the pandemic and now we get to see Lucas live. 2020 redemption arc starts here"

"Finally something good happening after the last two years"

"Lucas waited until it was safe to tour. Respect."

---

But while the world celebrated, Lucas had something else consuming his thoughts.

January 2020.

He'd been spending a lot of time with Kobe Bryant lately. Officially, it was about the Netflix animation project they were producing together—checking in on the animation studio, reviewing storyboards, discussing character development.

But that wasn't the real reason.

Lucas knew what was supposed to happen this month. In his previous life, January 26th, 2020. The helicopter crash. Kobe, his daughter Gianna, and seven others—gone in an instant.

He couldn't let that happen here.

The problem was figuring out how to prevent it without sounding insane. He couldn't just say "don't fly on the 26th." How would he explain knowing that?

So Lucas did the only thing he could—he stayed close. Kept Kobe's schedule packed with commitments.

---

January 26th arrived.

Lucas had scheduled an all-day session at the animation studio. "We need to go over the storyboards for the project," he'd told Kobe. "The team's waiting."

Kobe showed up that morning without complaint. They spent hours going through scenes, discussing pacing, tweaking dialogue. Lucas kept finding reasons to extend the meeting.

"What about the soundtrack for this sequence?"

"Should we review the character designs again?"

"Let's talk marketing strategy."

The day dragged on. Lucas kept glancing at his watch, willing the hours to pass faster.

Finally, evening came. The 26th was almost over.

Lucas felt something loosen in his chest. Kobe was here. Safe. The day had passed without incident.

"Long day," Kobe said, stretching. "But productive. Thanks for pushing on this."

"Yeah," Lucas said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. "Good day."

---

The next morning, Lucas met Kobe back at the animation studio. Maggie Kang was already there, reviewing some early animation renders.

Kobe walked in with a slight limp, his left wrist wrapped.

Lucas's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"Oh, this?" Kobe glanced at his wrist. "Slipped on some stairs at home last night. Tweaked my wrist and banged up my knee pretty good. Nothing serious, just annoying."

Lucas stared at him. A fall. A minor injury. Nothing life-threatening.

In his previous life, January 26th had been catastrophic. Here? A sprained wrist and a bruised knee.

Fate had tried to take something. But instead of a helicopter crash, it settled for a minor accident.

Lucas exhaled slowly, feeling tension drain from his shoulders. 'That's it. That's the replacement.'

He felt incredible. Like he'd somehow bent the laws of the universe itself. Changed something fundamental that shouldn't have been changeable.

And it wasn't just because Kobe had been his basketball idol in his previous life. Here, in this world, Kobe had become a real friend. Someone Lucas genuinely cared about. Someone whose family he'd gotten to know. The relief wasn't just about saving a legend—it was about protecting a friend.

Kobe noticed his expression. "You good? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

Lucas snapped back to the moment. "Yeah, sorry. Just—glad it wasn't worse."

"Stairs, man," Kobe said with a shrug. "Got me good this time."

Lucas smiled faintly. "Be more careful."

"Always am." Kobe studied him for a second. "You've been acting kind of weird lately. Everything okay with you?"

"Yeah," Lucas said. "Everything's fine now."

Maggie looked between them, sensing something off but not commenting. "Should we get started? I've got some updates on the animation timeline."

Kobe didn't look entirely convinced, but he let it drop. "Alright. Let's see what you've got."

They shifted into work talk, Maggie walking them through the latest progress. But Lucas's mind was still processing it.

Kobe was alive. His daughter was safe. The crash never happened.

Whatever force governed fate in this world had taken its pound of flesh—just a much, much smaller piece.

Lucas could live with that.