Ron Meyer's blacklist came fast—and disappeared even faster.
Overnight, word spread through CAA that Uma Thurman had "fired" him. The invisible wall of suppression collapsed instantly.
Cinematographers and production designers who had been dodging Bender's calls just the day before started calling him first thing in the morning. Every one of them sounded enthusiastic, eager—like their earlier rejections had been nothing more than a harmless misunderstanding.
"They're all back," Bender said after hanging up, unable to hide his grin. "And they're bringing full assistant teams. Some are even willing to take pay cuts."
Quentin snorted. "A bunch of fair-weather cowards."
"No," Link said, shaking his head. His tone was calm, but sharp. "They're not afraid of Ron Meyer. They're afraid of CAA. Uma just proved that an actor's will can outweigh an agent's power. They know exactly which side to stand on now."
He paused, his eyes turning cold. "Tell them all previous verbal agreements are void. Pangu Pictures is reselecting from scratch—only the best this time. Rates go back to market standard."
Bender froze for a second, then understood.
This wasn't revenge. It was setting rules.
Pangu Pictures wasn't a ship you could hop on and off whenever you felt like it.
The phone rang again. Bender answered—it was yesterday's cinematographer, his voice dripping with friendliness.
"Lawrence! Yesterday was a total misunderstanding. My team is fully committed to supporting—"
"Sorry, Mike," Bender cut in coolly. "The list's been reshuffled. You're welcome to resubmit your portfolio. We'll review it."
Silence on the other end. Then a tightly suppressed note of frustration.
Bender hung up, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
"Still," Link said, shifting gears, "we do need a truly gifted cinematographer. Someone who can understand the insane images inside Quentin's head."
Bender jumped in. "Then maybe I should call Mike back—"
"No need," Link interrupted. "Those people are competent craftsmen. What I want is an artist—someone who can help us create a new world."
He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts sink into the system.
Clear. Focused.
"Activate Spotlight proactive scan. Target field: cinematographers. Criteria: high potential, low recognition, disruptive visual style."
[Spotlight scan activated… consuming 2,000 influence points]
[Target locked: Emmanuel Lubezki]
[Status: Mexico, currently shooting a tequila commercial]
[Potential rating: S-Tier — future master of natural light and long takes, frequent Oscar winner. Notable works: Gravity, The Revenant]
[Willingness to collaborate: Low (skeptical of the Hollywood mainstream system)]
Images flashed through his mind.
A Mexican set. A long-haired, stubborn young cinematographer arguing with clients, insisting on shooting with natural light only. The clients were furious—but the footage on the monitor looked alive, like a painting that could breathe.
Lubezki.
Link opened his eyes, a faint smile forming.
"Book me the next flight to Mexico City. As soon as possible."
Bender and Quentin both stared at him. "Mexico? For what?"
"To poach talent."
Bender frowned. "Link , flights, hotels, negotiations… our budget is already tight."
Link looked at him calmly. "Lawrence, this isn't an expense. It's an investment in the future. One Lubezki is worth ten craftsmen."
Bender hesitated, then said nothing more.
Just then, there was a knock on the office door. An assistant poked her head in, looking awkward.
"Mr. Link … Mr. Bender. There's—uh—someone outside claiming to be Jennifer Connelly's agent. He wants to see you."
Bender stiffened, then leaned closer to Link and whispered, "It's her. We used her name last time—she's come knocking. Link , this could be trouble."
Link's lips curved into an amused smile.
"Trouble? No. This is prey delivering itself."
The agent, Allen, walked in with his chin raised, irritation obvious in his eyes.
"Mr. Link , my client never consented to your promotional tactics. What you did crossed a professional line."
Bender was about to explain, but Link raised a hand to stop him.
He looked straight at Allen and said evenly, "Miss Connelly's name helped shield us from CAA's frenzy. And because of that, she gained industry-wide attention. Do you really think that was a bad deal?"
Allen froze. His face flushed as he tried to argue—then realized he had no immediate comeback.
Link calmly looked away, picked up his coat. "I'm busy. I'll be in New York next week. If Miss Connelly is sincere, she can meet me there."
Bender was stunned. "Link , this was our chance to explain—to apologize—"
"Lawrence," Link said with a faint smile, "why would we apologize? If she has vision, she'll understand this wasn't an insult. It was a win-win."
"She should be thanking us."
With that, he walked straight out the door.
"Now," he added casually, "let's go fish our Rembrandt out of a commercial shoot."