Anson didn't have any leads either.
Slightly disappointed, but not surprised.
Lucas nodded lightly, "Alright, I understand. You don't need to overthink it. Leave this matter to me, and I'll get to the bottom of it."
After speaking, Lucas noticed a hint of hesitation in Anson's expression and quickly stopped him.
"Anson, there's no need to overanalyze. There were so many eyes in the studio. Even if no one was paying close attention, some clues must've been left behind."
"I'll…"
Before Lucas could finish, Anson interrupted, "Paparazzi."
Lucas, confused, asked, "What?"
Anson didn't immediately answer but froze for a moment. His memory processing was a bit slow, and the scattered, chaotic images from the shoot flooded his mind.
Nothing unusual.
Objectively speaking, Anson hadn't noticed anything odd on set that day. But his gut reaction, like a flash of lightning, pointed to the paparazzi.
"I mean, maybe a paparazzo snuck into the crew that day to take secret photos."
"There's been nonstop talk about the Spider-Man suit recently. The crew's been racking their brains to prevent leaks, even making me wear a cloak while coming and going. It's ridiculous."
"Maybe a paparazzo managed to break through the security, sneak into the studio, and found a chance to take pictures of the suit."
"Why else would the flash go off when I was mid-air doing a stunt?"
"That was the best-looking move, and it showcased the suit in full detail."
Lucas listened carefully but looked a bit puzzled. "Is that really necessary? A paparazzo could just snap a random shot and sneak out. That should satisfy any curiosity, right?"
"The price," Anson replied. "Of course, this is just my guess. My brain's not fully functioning right now. I could be talking nonsense."
"But think about it. What's worth more: a blurry, side-shot sneak photo, or a clear, front-facing one?"
"It's like when paparazzi photographed Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston's wedding. Sure, the blurry shots from the reeds were mysterious and created buzz, but they couldn't compare to the official front-page photo in US Weekly."
"If they can, they'd want to capture the clearest, most detailed shot possible. In those moments, aesthetics probably take a back seat."
"A blurry photo of the suit might go for ten grand. A clear, full shot could fetch a hundred grand."
Lucas rolled his eyes, "My brother is worth a hundred grand?"
Anson smirked, "I thought you were going to say ten bucks tops."
Lucas replied, "To me, not even worth ten bucks. But risking your health for a hundred grand? Not even worth a look."
Anson knew Lucas was serious. "And I just thought of something else. If the photos were taken during a break, someone would've noticed. There are eyes everywhere on set. Hitting the shutter would have to be super discreet, and they probably couldn't even pull out a camera easily."
"But during filming, everyone's focused on their work. That's the perfect cover. It would've been much easier to pull off."
What had started as a flash of inspiration now seemed more and more plausible.
Lucas didn't respond, nor did his expression change, but he agreed it was a possibility. "If it was paparazzi, do you have anyone in mind?"
Anson shook his head. "It's like finding a needle in a haystack. You could ask Edgar for Eve's number. She's an expert in this. Even if she doesn't know exactly who, she'd have some leads. Paparazzi have a way of staying in the loop."
"If it really was paparazzi, and your investigation is too obvious, they might go underground. Then it'll really be like searching for a needle."
Anson suddenly remembered something.
"This same thing happened when we filmed the first movie."
Lucas's face darkened. "You got hurt?"
Anson sighed, "No. A paparazzo hid in a wardrobe in the trailer, curled up in a ball. I thought it was a rat..."
Lucas, clearly irritated, said, "Might as well have been a rat."
Anson laughed, "In the end, I found him. It was pretty funny, actually."
"To be honest, I've never understood the public's obsession. It's just a suit, right? It's in the comics. Sure, the movie version might be a little different, but it's mostly the same. Nothing special."
"So, what's the point of seeing it early?"
"People might gasp and admire it, but that's about it. Fans will still love the movie, and those who don't care still won't care. I don't see any marketing value in this."
Lucas asked, "Do you know that paparazzo?"
"What?"
Lucas hadn't been listening to Anson's rant. He was still focused on the culprit, uninterested in gossip. "The paparazzo who hid in the trailer."
"He's in a different place now. He wouldn't stoop to that anymore. He didn't even like it back then. You've probably heard of him—Harry Pesci."
Lucas's eyes widened in realization, "Him? You mean the TMZ founder?"
Anson grinned, "Yeah, just a small chapter in a bigger story."
Lucas thought for a moment. TMZ had grown into a monster in the digital age, and rumors circulated that various corporations, including the massive News Corporation, were trying to buy it. Pesci was probably more focused on selling TMZ for a hefty price rather than sneaking around as a paparazzo again.
Even if TMZ was willing to pay top dollar for Spider-Man suit photos, Pesci likely wouldn't do the dirty work himself.
Lucas considered contacting TMZ to see if anyone had been shopping around photos from the Spider-Man 2 set. If they had, the culprit would be clear.
He mulled it over briefly before snapping back to the present, noticing Anson still deep in thought.
"I'll handle this," Lucas said.
Anson looked at him, "Let Edgar take care of it. You're not a professional investigator, and you've got your own work. No need to waste time on this."
Lucas didn't respond, but his silence wasn't agreement either. "Right now, you need to rest."
Anson sighed, "You're treating me like a patient now!"
Lucas, unfazed, replied, "You are a patient."
Anson sighed deeply in resignation. "At least let me talk to Edgar or the director to figure out what to do next."
Lucas frowned, unsure if he heard correctly.
Anson didn't explain further, meeting Lucas's gaze quietly.
In the end, Lucas gave in. "Five minutes." Seeing Anson prepare to argue further, Lucas added, "You can handle everything tomorrow. It's not that urgent. So, either five minutes or forget it."
Grinding his teeth in frustration, Anson leaned back and stared helplessly at the ceiling.
Satisfied, Lucas turned to leave. As soon as he opened the door, those waiting outside all stood up. And there were quite a few of them.