The Greatest Showman #852 - Summon Order

"...Haha, then let's wait and see." Bradley Adams chuckled as he said goodbye to his colleagues, his face still wearing a relaxed and cheerful smile. He returned to his desk, turned on his computer, and got back to work.

The awards season was entering its final stretch, and the buzz was growing more intense with each passing day. For reporters, it felt like the holiday season was upon them, only more frantic.

As a senior reporter for the entertainment section of the New York Times, Bradley had at least three unfinished stories on his plate. One was an interview with Brad Pitt, a transcript of a recording from two days ago that still needed organizing. Another was an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at Hugo, focusing not on Martin Scorsese, but on the entire production team at Paramount. Lastly, he had an interview with producer Scott Rudin. The film Extremely Loud, Extremely Close had become the unexpected dark horse of this year's awards season, and it was receiving a lot of attention.

However, after briefly scanning through his documents, Bradley had a thought. He opened a new tab and typed "Renly Hall" into the search bar. Though he had just finished reporting on the Berlin Film Festival's closing ceremony, he couldn't help but keep tabs on Renly's latest developments.

The results were unsurprising. Aside from the chaotic reception Renly received at JFK Airport, the buzz surrounding his Berlin Silver Bear win seemed mild in comparison to the news about the Artist crew meeting fans in Boston.

Closing the tab, Bradley had a sudden urge to visit the official page of Studio Eleven.

To be honest, he wasn't sure why he did it. Music didn't interest him, he didn't care much about Studio Eleven, and his enthusiasm for the album Don Quixote was limited. But today, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself there. He even surprised himself by staying on the page longer than expected.

He gave a rueful chuckle, shaking his head as he moved to close the page. But then, something caught his eye—a new announcement right in the center of the page. Before he even realized what he was doing, his mouse had clicked it.

"To someone,

This is Renly Hall. I am officially inviting you to my solo concert. This will be a private concert, just for one person. I hope you can be there in person—otherwise, it will be a concert without an audience. I kept my promise; now it's your turn.

Date: February 16, 2012, at 8:00 p.m.

Location: Madison Square Garden, New York.

Theme: A solo concert.

Sincerely,

Renly Hall."**

Bradley's mouth hung open in disbelief. His mind struggled to process the information. After years of experience in the field, he still couldn't make sense of it. What was going on?

February 16th was just five days away—today was the 11th, already 9:30 p.m. The awards season was in full swing, with Jean Dujardin from The Artist and George Clooney from The Descendants leading the charge. So why, out of nowhere, would Renly announce a solo concert?

And then there was the matter of the "someone." Was this an open invitation for any fan, or was it a reference to a specific individual? After all, Renly was an actor, not a musician. Did he even have fans in the traditional sense? The idea of a concert seemed absurd.

Madison Square Garden—the top concert venue in the U.S.—could hold 20,000 people. For a concert this exclusive, there was no need for such a large venue. Even major artists like Adele or Beyoncé typically had tickets sold in advance for months. For a concert in just four days, the chances of a full house were slim at best. The financial risk was enormous.

What had happened in the past 12 hours?

Could this be some sort of publicity stunt? If it were, why would it be posted on Studio Eleven's website? It seemed out of place given the lack of coverage in the press, especially with the awards season dominating the headlines.

Was Renly trying to propose to someone? A solo concert as a proposal seemed far-fetched, especially considering how secretive he had been about his romantic life. Why would he choose to announce it so publicly, in such an extravagant manner, especially during awards season?

The possibilities felt contradictory. Every theory Bradley entertained seemed to fall apart when examined closer.

"An April Fool's joke?" he muttered to himself. But April Fool's Day was still fifty days away!

The hairs on the back of Bradley's neck stood up as the realization hit him. There was something unusual about this, something newsworthy. He grabbed his voice recorder and camera, rushing out of the office without a word.

As he passed the editor-in-chief, who was carrying a coffee from the pantry, the editor called after him, "Where are you going?" Bradley didn't answer, just hurried past him, causing the editor to yell, "Hey, Brad, hurry up and get me that Pete piece—deadline's today!" But Bradley was already out the door.

Cornell McGregor scratched his head, irritated. The editor-in-chief had just thrown two more manuscripts at him, both lacking any real substance. He needed something substantial to stand out amidst the chaos of the awards season.

In this highly competitive field, it was hard to get noticed. The same formulas were followed every year, leading to repetitive, uninspired stories. But Entertainment Weekly wasn't about the serious stuff—it was about fun, sensationalism.

A thought flashed in Cornell's mind. He quickly began typing, conducting a thorough search. After nearly 30 minutes of digging, he still had no answers, but he wasn't ready to give up.

Then, like a sudden stroke of luck, he stumbled upon something—a page he didn't even remember reaching, yet it contained crucial information.

The concert—Madison Square Garden—during the awards season, no less. Did it really need more explanation?

It was obvious. This was all a stunt. A desperate, transparent attempt to attract attention. A ridiculous, low-key hype campaign designed to generate buzz during the most chaotic time of the year. Renly was using his name to stir the pot, trying to create a buzz—nothing more.

Cornell smirked, sure of his conclusion. The concert wasn't about the music. It was about the attention. What was the real goal, though? The Grammys? Or was it to boost his Oscar chances?

The Oscars were only weeks away, and the competition was fierce. But a concert like this could grab attention, announcing Renly's return to the spotlight. It made sense. The timing was right. The Screen Actors Guild Awards were just around the corner.

Cornell slapped the table in realization. He knew exactly what was going on. All he needed now was solid proof. The battle had begun.

Without wasting another moment, he rushed out of his office, his chair falling to the floor with a loud crash. His colleagues looked up, but Cornell didn't acknowledge them. This was exclusive news, and he wasn't about to let it slip before he had all his facts straight.