SuperStar!

Inside the car, Ethan Jones sat in the front passenger seat while the back was occupied by Hailie and Eminem.

As they settled in, Ethan turned slightly toward the back. "So, where are we headed?" he asked, already thinking about how he'd need to grab some clothes if they were heading straight to the shoot. Maybe he could get something from the props department.

Before anyone else could answer, Hailie leaned forward slightly and said to the driver, "The video shoot, please."

The driver gave a small nod, but before he could even put the car in motion, Eminem, who had been sitting back with his AirPods in, suddenly spoke up—flat, firm, and completely shutting the conversation down.

"The hotel."

Ethan blinked. How the hell did he even hear that through his AirPods?

Hailie immediately turned to her dad, frowning. "Wait, what? You literally said the video shoot was important and that you wanted to get it done fast. So why are we going to the hotel?"

Eminem didn't even look at her. "'Cause that's the plan. We were supposed to meet you there first."

Hailie threw her hands up. "Well, I'm here now, so why do we still gotta go back?"

This time, Eminem turned his head slightly, giving her a look like she had just asked the dumbest question in the world. "Uh, to drop you off. Duh. You had your fun, you met Ethan, now we gotta get to work. Grown-up shit. Serious business."

Hailie let out a sharp laugh, crossing her arms. "Oh yeah, right. You mean arguing about cartoon characters? Yeah, real serious work, Dad."

Ethan sat in the front, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Seeing Eminem in dad mode was something else. He had always idolized him, but this? This was gold.

As the car finally pulled onto the road, Ethan started noticing something weird—traffic was insane. Cars were barely moving, everything was jammed up, and people on the sidewalks looked just as frustrated as the drivers.

He glanced at the driver. "Is traffic always this bad?"

The driver sighed. "Not usually at this time, but today? Who knows. Could be an event, roadwork, some dude who doesn't know how to drive—take your pick."

Ethan exhaled through his nose, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in. His legs were starting to ache from sitting too long, and the slow-moving traffic wasn't helping. What was supposed to be a short ride was dragging on forever.

By the time they finally pulled up to the hotel, what should have been a 15-minute ride had turned into a full 40. Ethan sighed in relief as they rolled to a stop in front of a massive, bustling hotel. The place was packed—people everywhere, security moving around, luxury cars pulling up every other minute.

As soon as the car stopped, Ethan reached for the door handle, more than ready to stretch his legs. But before he could even push it open, Eminem's voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Yo, what the hell you doin'? We're just droppin' her off. We still gotta hit the shoot."

Ethan froze, his hand still on the door handle. He felt every bit of energy drain from his body. Oh, come on… His legs were sore as hell, and now he had to get back in the car for another long-ass drive?

Meanwhile, Hailie was already stepping out. She turned back to Ethan, flashing him a bright smile. "It was really nice meeting you. And thanks again for the autograph!"

Eminem, still in the back, barely looked up as he muttered, "Love you."

Hailie just rolled her eyes and swung the door shut behind her, calling back, "Yeah, yeah."

Ethan barely managed a mumbled response before slumping back in his seat. His head tilted back against the headrest as he stared up at the car's ceiling, already dreading what was coming next.

"How far is the shoot from here?" he asked the driver, hoping—praying—for a good answer.

The driver, without hesitation, replied, "Normally? 'Bout 20 minutes."

Ethan felt his soul leave his body.

"Normally?"

The driver nodded. "Yeah, but with traffic like this? Could be longer."

At that moment, Ethan let out a slow, defeated exhale and sank further into his seat, staring blankly at the ceiling.

 Ethan just felt the blood drain from his leg as he rested his head on the chair, his head facing up—doing a meme that would be famous a few years in the future, one showing he had accepted his fate.(the dog accepting his faith meme)

As Ethan settled into his seat, resigned to his fate, Eminem's voice suddenly cut through the silence.

"So, about that projection—"

Ethan's eyes snapped open, his head jerking up as he was dragged back into the conversation.

Man, I thought I was done...

What followed was a ride that felt like it lasted forever. Eminem and Hailie had left, but Ethan was now trapped in yet another discussion—one he honestly wasn't sure how he got roped into.

By the time they finally reached the shoot location, Ethan practically sprang out of the car, his sore legs suddenly forgotten in his relief. "Okay, we made it. No problem. I'm getting out. I'm dropping this argument— for now —but I just need you to say one thing."

He turned back, his expression dead serious as he locked eyes with Eminem. "You agree that Spider-Man wipes the floor with both Batman and the Punisher—even if they team up against him, right?"

The entire car went silent. Even the driver and some of the directors, who had spent the ride half-listening to their debates, were now fully tuned in, waiting for Em's response.

Eminem didn't even hesitate. "Oh, for sure. Spider-Man kills 'em both. Easy."

Ethan let out a long, relieved sigh. "Oh, thank God."

As Ethan and Eminem stepped out of the car, they were immediately met with the chaos of the music video set. The place was alive with movement—crew members rushing back and forth, carrying lights, adjusting cameras, and shouting instructions. A group of dancers was stretching off to one side, while stylists fussed over outfits near a long row of trailers.

No one seemed to notice them at first. It wasn't surprising—everyone was too focused on their tasks, too deep into the madness of a production running on a tight schedule. But then, someone finally approached.

Ethan recognized him instantly—Emil.

Unlike the laid-back, easygoing Emil from the plane, the one standing in front of them now was a completely different person. His face was serious, his voice sharp as he barked orders at the crew. Two people flanked him at all times, listening intently, nodding, then hurrying off to execute whatever command he had just given.

As Ethan opened his mouth to greet him, barely getting out a "Hell—", Emil cut him off.

"We need you to go do your makeup and change already. The other actors and actresses are around. Deborah, take him to the makeup room—we're already behind schedule."

Then, turning his attention to Eminem, he added, "Em, you also need to get ready."

Before Ethan could say anything, a woman stepped forward. "Please follow me," she said, motioning for him to come along.

Ethan nodded and followed, his steps steady despite the exhaustion weighing on his body. He was running on fumes—jet-lagged, fatigued, and sore from the endless sitting and waiting.

But none of that mattered.

Because right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be—about to shoot a music video with one of his idols.

And for that, he was nothing but thankful.