A black limousine pulled up to the curb outside of the Chinese Theatre on a November 20, evening.
The Hollywood boulevard was choked with fans, police barricades, and papparazi.
Duke in reality knew the thruth, a lot of these people were invited or hired to be here in an attempt to bring eyes onto Rocky.
After all, Rocky did not had a famous Male lead, nor a famous Female Lead, not even a famous director.
So the money that was supposed to invested in that, just went into giving advertisements focused on the story.
Duke stepped out onto the sidewalk, wearing a tailored emerald suit.
He did not linger for the photographers, slipping past the flashing lights, for a man of his status, sometimes more was less. And less was more. Less attention meant less opportunities to fuck up.
Sylvester Stallone stood near the theater entrance, grinning as reporters shouted questions about the low-budget boxing picture that had taken preview audiences by storm.
The traditional studio executives had doubted the gritty project, but Paramount had taken a risk on the underdog drama.
And so the Paramount Seal of Quality was given. Duke wondered if this trust that the public had on Paramount movies would make their advertising and hiring easier.
After all, everyone wants to be involved in a good project.
Inside the theater, Robert Evans was already waiting near the center aisle.
The flamboyant producer wore his signature tinted glasses and a silk scarf. If Duke didnt know him for a long time, he would actually wonder if Evans was gay dressed so... flashy.
He gestured for Duke to join him in the seats just moments before the house lights dimmed.
The screen flickered to life, and the Paramount Mountain appeared on the screen.
Paramount logo was simple, a snow-capped mountain peak that symbolize basically being a beacon of supreme quality, reaching the highest "Paramount" level of filmmaking.
Finally Rocky started.
The film is about Rocky Balboa, a washed-up boxer who makes a meager living as a debt collector for a local loan shark.
Rocky lives in a cramped shitty apartment, trains in a shitty gym run by a shitty manager named Mickey, and spends his nights trying to win the heart of Adrian Pennino, a shy woman who works at a local pet shop.
Rocky is a sort of good man at heart, but he feels like his life is going nowhere.
Meanwhile, the undefeated champion of the world, Apollo Creed, is scheduled to defend his title on New Year's Day.
However, his scheduled opponent drops out due to an injury just weeks before the big fight.
With no top-tier contenders available, Creed decides to pull off a publicity stunt, he will give an unknown "nobody" a shot at the title.
Creed chooses Rocky simply because of his nickname "The Italian Stallion" and the poetic ring of the matchup for America's Bicentennial.
When Rocky gets the offer, he realizes it's a joke to the boxing world, but it's the opportunity of a lifetime for a bum like him.
He accepts, determined to prove he isn't a whole bum.
Mickey, seeing that Rocky finally has a shot at glory, takes him on as a manager.
Rocky undergoes a training regimen, punching slabs of beef in a meatpacking freezer, chasing chickens, and culminating in his sprint up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
At the same time, his relationship with Adrian blossoms and they fall in love.
On New Year's Day, Rocky faces Apollo Creed in a packed arena.
Creed and the crowd treat it as a theatrical spectacle, but Rocky shocks everyone by knocking Creed down in the first round, the first time Creed has ever been knocked down in his career.
Then comes a crazy brutal 15-round match.
Creed batters Rocky's face, breaking his nose, and nearly blinding him.
Yet, by power of will and his love for Adrian, Rocky refuses to stay down.
The audience and commentators go from mocking him to chanting his name as he keeps absorbing blows and fighting back.
When the final bell rings, both men are barely standing, clinging to each other in mutual respect.
Apollo Creed is declared the winner by a split decision, retaining his title but the outcome of the match hardly matters.
As the judges' scores are announced, Rocky ignores the media chaos, shouts Adrian's name into the crowd, and embraces her as she rushes into the ring.
The film ends with a message, Rocky didn't win the belt, but he proved to himself and the world that he was someone.
The beauty of the film laid in the reckless, desperate way Rocky went the distance against insurmountable odds.
It was a universal theme that resonated deeply in America.
As the final credits rolled, the theater erupted into applause.
The audience cheered.
Duke nodded, this was one of those rare moments where art and commerciality aligned.
Rocky in itself is a simple story, but that made it even more emotional in its core message.
Sylvester Stallone was mobbed by studio executives and well-wishers near the stage.
Evans grabbed Duke's arm, "Come on, the real work starts at the bar," Evans urged, gesturing toward the buzzing lobby.
Margaux had already been swept up by groups of directors, and congratulatory peers.
Duke offered a supportive smile from a distance, watching her finally get some well-deserved recognition of her craft.
Without drawing attention to himself, Duke turned toward the side exit.
Today he didnt want to be a party killer, he had never been a party guy, unless he was drunk, in those case he became a party animal.
The drive back to the Owlwood estate was peaceful.
Inside, the house was wrapped in silence.
The live-in nanny had already put Bradley to bed hours ago, leaving only a soft hallway nightlight glowing.
Duke walked straight into his private study, loosening his tie as he settled into the desk chair.
His private study was pretty simple, just a large amount of books on the walls, his desk and some academia stuff to make the Study look pretty.
He pulled open a drawer and retrieved the concept designs for the Gate of Truth of Full Metal Alchemist.
One was the protagonist, Gate of Truth which contained the The tree of life from Jewish Kabbalah.
In Full metal Alchemist, the Gate of Truth is a portal and the source of all alchemical knowledge.
It appears when mortals violate the laws of alchemy (normally by attempting human transmutation), punishing them by demanding a physical "toll" in exchange for forbidden knowledge.
Guarding the portal is a faceless entity known as Truth, that claims to be the universe, the world, all, one, and God.
When an alchemist crosses the Gate, they are forced to pay the 'toll' which is usually a body part or sense representing their desires or flaws.
For example, Edward Elric, the protagonist, lost his leg and later his arm to retrieve his brother Alphonse, whose entire body was taken.
Of course, in return for paying this toll, the alchemist is granted understanding of the universe and alchemy that allows them to bypass transmutation circles and perform alchemy just by clapping their hands.
The problem is that every Gate Of Truth is different for every character, cause its supposed to represent human knowledge.
So the signs and motifs on the door should represent a characters journey.
Full Metal Alchemist is a complex story to tell.
The law of Equivalent Exchange, War, Fascism, the ability to move foward, all of these were explored on the story.
But most importantly, Theology.
Edward Elric starts out as a proud skeptic relying on science and alchemy, but by the end of his journey, his final lesson isn't how to become a god, but rather how to accept the limitations of his own humanity.
Edward as a kid did Human Transmutation, so he saw his own Gate of Truth, so by clapping his hands together he can perform alchemy, but that same gesture is the act of prayer.
Duke stood there with his pen on a paper, but nothing came to mind. He looked around in search of inspirations.
His mind drifted across the archive of stories he had written but were just laying around.
A Song of Ice and Fire, Inkheart, Percy Jackson and The Hunger Games.
The pop culture landscape was alwasy shifting around, and predicting what the public would crave next was a puzzle even to him with memories.
'Should i write a Sci-fi story?'
Standing up from the desk, Duke walked over to the windows overlooking the sprawling estate grounds.
Just past the property lines, the Playboy Mansion sat vacant and dark.
Hugh Hefner had recently packed up and relocated his operations to a new estate, leaving the neighborhood quiet once more.
Duke smiled at the sight.
He turned back toward his desk, pulling a blank page, yet his mind remained blank, stuck behind a creative wall.
'Was this feeling the reason GRRM was struggling to finish Winds of Winter?'
He stayed watching the page for a moment but nothing truly came to mind.
Duke stood up and just started to pace around, he even stepped out of the study and began walking down the dimly lit hallway.
The creak of the floorboards under his shoes was the only sound echoing through the empty home.
As he rounded the corner near the family sitting room, he noticed a faint beam of light spilling out from under a half-open door.
Duke pushed it open gently, stepping onto the plush rug.
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor was 20 month old Bradley surrounded by plastic Lego bricks and a wooden train track layout.
Hearing the door open, Bradley body froze in the middle of raising his toy train.
Bradley simply squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to pretend he had not been playing past his bedtime with an arm still raised holding the toy train.
Duke felt the tension melt out of his shoulders as a soft laugh escaped his mouth as he walked over and lowered himself onto the carpet, sitting cross-legged right beside his son.
"Nice try, buddy," Duke whispered, gently poking the boy's back. "I work with Professional actors, you're going to need some acting classes to be able to do this."
Bradley opened one eye, realized his cover was blown, and broke into a gap-toothed grin.
Without speaking, Duke reached out and picked up a red Lego brick, locking it into the base of a towering plastic structure Bradley had been assembling.
Bradley handed his father a curved yellow track piece, chattering in his own invented toddler language.
They worked side by side, stacking plastic towers and aligning wooden boxcars on the rug.
"What you like best?" Duke asked, handing a small blue block to his son. "What character is your favorite?"
Bradley paused, his small hands rummaging through a toy bin filled with assorted action figures.
He pulled out a brightly colored plastic toy and held it up for Duke to look at.
Duke stared down at the object in his son's hand in silence.
It was a chewed down, drooled on Spider-Man action figure, wearing its iconic red and blue spandex suit with web patterns.
Without saying anything, Duke slowly reached out and took the Spider-Man toy from Bradley's tiny fingers, and swapped it with a spare Blue Beetle figure he pulled from the toy bin.
"We're a DC household, pal," Duke murmured with a straight face, slipping the red and blue plastic figure deep into his coat pocket wondering if he should start a fire to burn it off.
"Who even bought a Spiderman figure? Your mom has some explaining to do."