A Reformed Bad Boy (Part 1)

It was an entirely unexpected turn of events. The actor they had earmarked to play the lead in their upcoming superhero film had read the script, only to show up to the meeting dressed exactly like his nemesis, the supervillain. And the moment the director—who had been sullen and nursing wounds from his previous project—saw him, his eyes lit up with sudden mania, looking ready to sign the contract right then and there.

Lawrence Gordon looked back and forth between the two, a faint, uncontrollable smile tugging at her lips. Ah, artists. As an auteur-friendly producer, she absolutely loved this picture. You never truly knew how a movie would turn out until it opened, but fleeting moments like this often carried the distinct scent of success.

Sensing a brilliant chemistry between them, Lawrence turned to Charlie Kang, the head of CK Agency sitting next to Sion Lee, and spoke.

"With an actor this charming, working must be a real pleasure."

"Ah, ahaha... Our boy has a bit of a stubborn streak. It seems he's completely obsessed with 'Lucid.'"

In truth, Charlie hadn't quite processed Sion's antics today either. How could he? Once Sion had confirmed his interest in the film, Charlie had bought and read Pain Walker himself to get a grasp of the story. But on the morning of the meeting, Sion had suddenly shown up in a pristine white suit, looking the spitting image of Lucid from the comics. Charlie had been utterly bewildered.

He hadn't been able to stop him, partly because of Sion's confident assertion that "This is the way," partly because they were running late, and mostly because of his actor-first business philosophy. But seeing Tim Burton's ecstatic reaction made him breathe a sigh of relief. Lawrence seemed to share the sentiment.

"Actually, I prefer it that way. To avoid being crushed and left behind by the Hollywood system, an actor needs to express their opinions clearly. Well, from a purely business standpoint, some might raise an eyebrow... but I love this kind of thing. That stubborn, artistic temperament."

It was common sense that the lead actor of a film had to be its face—whether through looks, fame, or star power. When they cast Sion Lee, she knew they wouldn't have to worry about that. The buzz he had generated recently, combined with his sheer presence as an actor, was bound to elevate the film's first impression by at least two levels.

Yet, Sion Lee himself seemed far more drawn to the antagonist, Lucid, than the hero. And in a superhero movie where a compelling villain is just as crucial as the hero, there was no reason to complain. Lawrence chimed in, steering the conversation.

"Mr. Lee, it seems you're quite taken with the villain?"

"Yes. A young, successful businessman who is actually a masked narcissist. It's a fantastic character. I think it suits my image much better."

"What do you think, Director?"

"I have always wanted to work with an actor like Sion Lee."

Tim Burton's eyes sparkled like a child looking at the morning star. At first glance, it was a somewhat puzzling statement. Tim Burton was known for his highly distinct, eccentric style, whereas Sion had a very mainstream, popular image.

"I'm incredibly curious to see how the different perspectives of bringing the comic book Lucid to the screen will manifest through Sion."

"Tim, I think reinterpreting a cartoonish, exaggerated character will be a lot of fun for me too."

"Y-yes, exactly. Pain Walker itself is dark and realistic, but it's still a comic book. Lucid has been interpreted in so many different ways depending on the writer of each issue."

"I really liked the version drawn by Brian Ross. Stripping away the laughter, carving out any Joker-like elements, and giving him the vibe of a cult leader... it felt incredibly charismatic."

"Ah, yes! I think so too! But if we only go that route, it might feel a bit flat."

The director and his lead actor were already bouncing ideas off each other, deep in discussion about the source material. Watching them with a pleased expression, Lawrence, keeping her producer's hat on, posed a crucial question.

"I wonder if we're moving a bit too fast here, but it seems you both agree on Mr. Lee playing Lucid. That leaves us with one major problem."

Who would play Pain Walker, the hero ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and the true face of the film? Hearing the question, Tim Burton hummed in thought, running through a mental list of actors. But Sion, as if he had anticipated Lawrence's question, offered a gentle smile and spoke up immediately.

"Actually, while reading the comics, I thought of someone who would be absolutely perfect for the role."

"Oh...? Who is it?"

Lawrence asked, her interest piqued. But when Sion uttered the actor's name, everyone in the room was left utterly speechless.

"Mickey Rourke."

Mickey Rourke. By 1993, he was an actor who had lost all credibility. Having spent his entire thirties as Hollywood's ultimate sex symbol, Mickey had grown thoroughly exhausted. Disgusted by a Hollywood system that treated him as mere merchandise, he had half-abandoned acting to return to his first love since his teenage years: professional boxing.

It'll be fine if I step away for just a bit. People will always want this handsome face.

But that had been a fatal miscalculation. Boxing had been exhilarating. That was the nature of a man's fight—simple and visceral. Fighting in the ring felt like a form of inner healing. He imagined his opponent's face was a gossip columnist or a paparazzi photographer. Smashing those faces, and sometimes getting smashed in return, left him grinning, filling some empty void deep within his soul.

Yet, when he finally decided to step out of the ring and return, the seat he once held at the high table had already been cleared away.

Dammit.

Hollywood, a place where endless talent flooded in chasing the stars of wealth and fame, had already unearthed new icons to replace him. To make matters worse, his boxing career had severely battered his face, and the reconstructive plastic surgeries that followed stripped away his former signature look. Studios no longer trusted him, and he was relegated to starring in low-budget action flicks.

The news that such a man had been offered the lead in Pain Walker spread through the industry like wildfire—accompanied by an even bigger bombshell: the involvement of Sion Lee.

"What? Mickey Rourke? Why on earth him...?"

"Wait, Sion Lee is playing the villain? Ha, isn't the hero and villain dynamic completely reversed?"

"That guy will throw a punch the second things don't go his way. I wonder if Sion will be okay."

"...Sion used to be a notorious brat who'd beat up anyone himself. Are they going to end up in a real brawl?"

Hearing whispers of these rumors, Mickey Rourke spat on the ground and scoffed.

"Fucking hypocrites. They love having an easy target."

Naturally, industry rumors quickly leaked to the public.

The media did nothing but subtly mock Mickey Rourke while hyping up Sion Lee. In this situation, Mickey couldn't even bring himself to feel angry at the kid he was being compared to. That was just Hollywood. "Show business." In the end, it was all about converting buzz into cash.

Having learned this bitter lesson firsthand when he returned to Hollywood only to find another actor sitting in his seat, he had checked out emotionally. So why had he been cast as the lead of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this project? He could only see it one way: They need a sacrificial lamb to make Sion Lee look good.

The current sex symbol of Hollywood versus the fallen icon of yesteryear. If he weren't the one caught in the middle of it, even he would have found the narrative fascinating.

Whatever. I'll just take the money and do my job.

The forty-year-old Mickey Rourke approached the film with a sense of defeat. But when he actually received the script and began to read, tears inexplicably welled in his eyes.

...Dammit.

He had never imagined he could empathize so deeply with a superhero story, a genre he had always dismissed as childish.

Pain Walker was a detective plagued by trauma. Nobody liked him, and those who once thought they did had only been fooling themselves. Even when he saved people, he was reviled for it, because doing so required him to drag their deepest traumas back into the light. Consequently, his use of superpowers was highly restricted. Naturally, the film felt less like a traditional superhero flick and more like a gritty film noir or a crime drama.

November 20, 1994. The day of the first shoot finally arrived. Principal photography for Pain Walker began immediately after Tim Burton wrapped Ed Wood. The shoot took place in New York, on the opposite side of the country from Los Angeles. This was partly because the film was set in New York, but also because they needed the kind of gloomy, overcast weather that was virtually nonexistent in sunny Southern California.

Inside a high-rise Manhattan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠office prepared for the shoot.

"Alright, let's get a wide shot of the exterior first..."

They had intentionally chosen a day with terrible weather. And for once, the usually unreliable weather forecast held true—thunder rumbled, and rain lashed against the windows. The crew felt as if heaven itself was smiling upon them. Even the weather was aligning perfectly with Tim Burton's dark vision. Ironically, the kind of storm most cultures associated with bad omens was welcomed as a stroke of pure luck for this film.

Mickey Rourke took a slow, deep breath. He mentally reviewed his lines while adjusting to the weight of his costume.

I was worried because it's a superhero movie... but this isn't bad at all. Must be the script.

He slipped on a black trench coat and slowly put on his fractured mask. It felt as though he were putting on his own face.

"Action!"

At the director's shout, Mickey Rourke stepped forward and instantly transformed into Pain Walker. The camera captured him with a chilling stillness as he stumbled into the office, panting heavily. Pain Walker looked around frantically. Amidst the torrential rain and intermittent flashes of lightning, a man stepped into view.

"Detective! What brings you here?"

"...Coleman."

"This is so sudden. I wonder what my secretary is doing."

"She's asleep... trapped in the dream you forced upon her..."

Mickey Rourke deliberately kept his tone understated. That was exactly what Tim Burton wanted. Tim viewed superheroes as essentially mentally ill individuals. To him, wearing a mask was a way to hide oneself and become someone else. Synthesizing this view into his unique cinematic world, his Pain Walker was a contradictory figure—someone burdened by trauma, yet using that very trauma to push forward.

On the other hand, what of Lucid? He was a figure who wore no mask. Like many villains in superhero lore, he had no need for one. He was a successful businessman who allowed people to "dream." From a certain perspective, one might even view him as the hero rather than the villain. And indeed, he acted like one.

"How wonderful. Living in a dream from which you never have to wake. That is true happiness."

"No. A dream... is just a dream."

In the end, the place where humans had to live was not a sweet dream, but a harsh reality.

"..."

Having spoken those words, Mickey Rourke fell silent, unable to deliver his next line.

"Cut!"

At the director's call, the crew began to whisper excitedly among themselves.

"What was that...? That was incredible."

"I know. How is he doing that?"

Usually, the first day of shooting was just about finding the right tone. It was common for actors to take time to fully immerse themselves into their characters on set. Moreover, the prevailing consensus was that Mickey Rourke was washed up. Yet, everyone present was momentarily spellbound by the profound depth of his performance as Pain Walker. It was inevitable. After all, it wasn't acting.

"...Dammit. I'm sorry. Let's go again."

"It happens! That was great, though. Really."

Sion called out with a bright smile, encouraging Mickey as the older actor tried to steady his breathing. Looking at Sion, a few crew members whispered once more.

"Seriously... when this movie comes out, he's going to be the only face anyone remembers."

"But he's the villain, right? Is that okay?"

"Hey, honestly, with looks like that? The studio probably wants it that way."

Amidst the raging storm and flashing lightning, the space where Sion stood seemed uniquely tranquil. Watching Sion, who maintained his deep immersion in his character while wearing a subtly enigmatic smile, Mickey Rourke felt a strange swell of emotion and clenched his fists tightly.

How can someone that young be this good?

There was no denying that the kid's presence had helped him sink deeper into his own role.

...It's insane.

Watching from a short distance away, producer Lawrence Gordon was also left in awe. When the idea of casting Mickey Rourke as Pain Walker had first been floated, Lawrence had naturally felt a strong resistance, knowing his ruined public image and terrible reputation in Hollywood. But after hearing Sion's reasoning and mulling it over, Tim Burton had agreed without a single complaint—having latched onto some artistic spark—leaving her with no choice but to proceed.

Well, I did promise to accommodate the director's wishes as much as possible.

When she actually met Mickey Rourke, he seemed so thoroughly broken that he had become as gentle as a lamb. His passion for acting had seemingly withered, and remembering the sheer havoc Mickey used to wreak in his heyday, Lawrence had thought this subdued version was actually a relief.

Even so, she had flown all the way to New York out of concern that something might go wrong on the first day. But seeing Mickey suddenly deliver such a breathtaking performance... she was left utterly speechless. She was amazed by Mickey's acting, but even more so by the sheer foresight of Sion Lee, who had chosen him.

What is with that kid? He knew Mickey Rourke would be the perfect fit? How on earth does someone suggest a casting so incredibly spot-on?

Did he possess not just the talent of an actor, but the eye of a casting director—or even a producer?

As a producer with auteur sensibilities, she couldn't help but get goosebumps. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Everything was aligning so perfectly under the director's vision—in fact, it was better than perfect.

Watching Mickey gather his emotions to plunge back into character, Sion smiled softly to himself.

As expected, this is going well.

It was going to be a fun shoot. After all, every single ingredient had come together exactly as he wanted.

A man who had once been a top-tier actor, but who had ultimately been discarded as a has-been because he couldn't control himself. In a way, he was a man very much like the "Sion Lee" of his past life.

But despite all his troubles, his acting chops started to truly shine around this period.

And Sion knew that a man like Mickey Rourke would immerse himself more deeply than anyone else into a role that forced him to confront his own trauma.