The next morning, Quentin Beck awoke in his apartment. He heard someone knocking on the door. He looked through the peephole and saw an executive from the studio that was funding Mysterio. Beck opened the door and let him in.
"What are you doing here, Sam?"
"Have you seen the news?"
"No."
"Turn it on."
Beck walked over to his television and turned it on. He flipped the channels until he found the news.
"This man who has been electrocuting people to death has been identified as Maxwell Dillon, who was working on the set of the Quentin Beck film Mysterio when he was struck by lightning. His whereabouts are currently unknown, but he is considered extremely dangerous."
"Your movie is getting bad publicity. In addition, it seems unoriginal."
"What do you mean?"
"Open your eyes! This is a ripoff of The Phantom of the Opera."
"It's an homage."
"And there are these other studios who are threatening to sue you for ideas that they originally used in movies about magicians and illusionists."
"Can't we pay them off?"
"No. I just don't think that your movie is that profitable. I'm shutting it down."
"No. You can't shut it down. We just started production!"
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not. You have no idea how much time I spent writing this script and rewriting it until it got just right. I had to work my ass off to make enough money to finance it. I was gonna be famous!"
"Be original. That's my advice for a future project if you ever make one. I have already taken the liberty of having people call your cast and crew to break the news to them."
With that, the executive left Beck's apartment. Beck ran over to the chest that contained his suit, gloves, boots, cape, and helmet. He put everything on as quickly as he could. He ran out of his apartment and down the stairs. He caught the executive in the lobby.
"Give it up. Stop trying to impress me. It's over."
"Feel the wrath of Mysterio."
Mysterio punched the executive in the face. He got him down on the ground and stomped on his head with his boots.
"I am going to become famous. I will do anything to be famous. Even if it means becoming a criminal mastermind."
The executive stopped breathing. Mysterio looked at the man sitting at his desk in the lobby.
"Oh my God," he said. "You killed him!'
Mysterio walked towards the desk. He spoke as he got closer.
"Spread the word. Tell New York that there is a new big name in town. And his name is Mysterio."
Mysterio backed away and ran out of the building.
"Now, if I'm going to become a master criminal, I need to find someone willing to help me become more deadly."