Brian Lord caught every flicker of Dunn's expression and smiled lightly. "It's no big deal. Back in the day, Sony scooped up Columbia Pictures for $3.4 billion, and Panasonic grabbed Universal for $6.6 billion—all orchestrated by AA.
Dunn took a deep breath. "So, a small fry like Marvel Entertainment… should be a piece of cake, right?"
Brian Lord's tone was calm but brimming with unshakable confidence. "Of course!" 💪
Dunn swirled the orange-yellow liquid in his glass. "I'm looking forward to working with AA."
Brian Lord's expression finally softened, his smile widening. "Given the mistake AA made this time, we're willing to offer you a free service—until we've wrapped up the Marvel Entertainment acquisition."
Dunn raised his glass high. "Well, thanks a ton then!" 🥂
Bill McNick let out a relieved breath and burst into hearty laughter. The three of them clinked glasses cheerfully.
What came next was internal plotting between Dunn and Brian Lord—probably some shady, underhanded stuff that wouldn't see the light of day. Bill McNick made a quick excuse and bolted.
Dunn, a little antsy, turned to Brian. "So, what's our next move?"
Brian Lord made a calming, downward gesture. "Dunn, the reason Marvel Entertainment's playing hardball and won't even give you a chance to negotiate is simple—they're still clinging to fantasies about their superheroes and betting big on Marvel Studios' potential."
Dunn's eyebrow twitched. "So… we need to crush those dreams!" 😈
"Exactly."
Brian Lord admired Dunn's decisiveness and sharp mind—hard to believe this guy wasn't even twenty yet. "Right now, all of Marvel Entertainment's focus is on one big superhero movie. That's the only thing that matters to them—everything else is small potatoes."
"Oh? Which movie?" Dunn seemed to catch Brian Lord's drift.
Brian Lord nodded. "New Line Cinema's *Blade*." 🗡️
Dunn didn't know much about the movie but vaguely recalled *Blade* had spawned a few sequels. That meant it probably did decently at the box office and with critics. At the very least, it didn't flop.
Brian Lord pulled a file from his bag—proof of his meticulous work ethic. "The movie's officially greenlit. Filming starts September 1st with a budget of about $45 million. Marvel Entertainment's Avi Arad and Chief Creative Officer Stan Lee are producing."
Dunn's brow furrowed slightly. Marvel's top dogs were personally producing it—clearly, they were banking hard on this one.
Brian Lord paused, then added, "The real kicker? They've got Hollywood's golden screenwriter David Goyer on board. As long as director Stephen Norrington doesn't botch it, the movie's reputation should hold up."
Dunn clenched his fist. "We've got to stop this!" ✊
Brian Lord grinned. "Oh, we will. Leave that part to me—stirring up some trouble for their production? Easy peasy." 😎
Dunn nodded, his expression icy. "Since filming's about to start, rewriting the script's off the table. But we can throw some wrenches in other areas, jack up their costs."
Brian Lord waved a hand. "No need to overthink it—just trust AA's skills. That said, if you want a knockout blow to this movie, we'd better have a backup plan."
Dunn smirked and slashed his hand through the air. "If they're so confident in *Blade*, let's go head-to-head. I'll get a movie rolling and take them on directly!" ⚔️
The idea synced perfectly with Brian Lord's thinking. "I've got a few projects in my pocket—want to take a look?"
"Nah, I'm good." Dunn shut it down fast. He wasn't one of AA's talents and didn't need any extra favors. "I just set up Dunn Pictures—it's time to launch my first film."
Brian Lord shook his head. "Investors won't be easy to snag…"
Dunn laughed. "I'm funding it myself!" 💰
"Huh?" Brian Lord's face shifted, staring at him in shock.
Putting his own money into a movie? That's not how Hollywood rolls!
Dunn caught Brian Lord's confusion and smirked inwardly. *"What's that, huh? Even the big-shot agent can't figure out my game plan?"* 😏
"Brian, I trust my skills, just like you trust AA's muscle."
Dunn's words left Brian Lord chuckling in disbelief. He stood up and shook Dunn's hand. "Alright then, we'll split up and get to work. Here's to a smooth partnership!"
"Definitely," Dunn replied, his sharp features and piercing gaze locking in. "I'm hoping our teamwork can put past misunderstandings to rest."
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After his experience with *Titanic* and some recent learning, Dunn wasn't a total newbie in producing and directing anymore. Through his shades, he could check "Dunn Walker's" professional stats crystal clear.
Director stats: Cinematography 15, Plot Design 9, Visual Thinking 13, Directing 21, Camera Work 7. Sub-stats: Special Effects 3, Animation 0, Color 8, Art Design 11, Storyboarding 10, Dialogue 8…
Producer stats: Production 1, Market Sense 52, Artistic Taste 47, Project Evaluation 8, Screenwriting 14. Sub-stats: Casting 33, Control 62, Marketing 57, Pacing 3, PR 39…
The numbers surprised Dunn—especially the producer stats for "Market Sense" and "Artistic Taste." That had to be from all the movies he'd watched in his past life piling up! 🎬
Now, to take on *Blade*, Dunn needed a new project. His biggest ace? The system in his shades.
But before kicking things off, he needed a go-to team…
With his current clout, he could easily lean on an agency to assemble a solid crew. Still, Dunn wanted loyalty, reliability, and top-tier talent.
For picking the right people? The shades' system was his secret weapon.
He started with "Screenwriters," filtering out the deceased and retired, sorting by skill level from high to low.
Wearing his shades, Dunn poked at the air like a total goofball—it was hilarious to watch.
Soon, the list was ready, and Dunn nearly jumped. Hollywood had *way* too many writers—over 6,000 pages, 60,000+ people?!
Only seven had a "Screenwriting" score above 90. Top of the heap? Dicken Whistler, with a whopping 99! 🌟
Dunn's eyes lit up. He pulled up Dicken's profile—turns out, the guy was a Hollywood outsider, registered with the Writers Guild but working as a librarian at UCLA.
His other stats? Trash. Production 0, Market Analysis 32, Artistic Taste 58… No shot at producing.
In Hollywood, the sheer number of registered writers was insane. Most couldn't even pay their bills, all because their skills were too narrow.
To make it big without connections, you needed versatility—directing, producing, or acting chops. That's what got a writer into Hollywood's inner circle.
Big studios picked well-rounded writers over pure storytellers every time.
But Dunn didn't care.
Specialization was king. Do your job well—that's enough.
Studios struggled to judge pure writing talent, so they went for the all-rounders. Dunn, though? His shades let him spot the real gems.
For storytelling, all he needed was storytelling skill. Why bother with directing or producing chops?
That was the shades' killer edge—spotting talent, seeing what others missed!
Take Dicken Whistler—a writing genius destined to rot in obscurity. Dunn could pluck him out of the dirt. 😎
Pride swelled through him.
At 95, he found another gem: Bryce Roach, currently a newspaper editor.
The next few were Hollywood heavyweights—Spielberg's go-to David Koepp, *Forrest Gump*'s Eric Roth, even directors like Guy Ritchie, Woody Allen, and *Shawshank*'s Frank Darabont.
Dunn skipped the big names. For a loyal team, he'd lift unknowns from the mud, not poach established stars.
At 90, he snagged another fit—Nia Vardalos, a female writer.
Like Dicken, her other stats were a mess, though she had some acting flair.
Dunn figured a core trio of writers was solid for now. He'd grow the company later.
Next, he filtered producers by "Market Sense."
That stat was huge—gauging if a project or script would click with audiences and rake in cash.
Take *Shawshank*: Frank Darabont's writing was a 92, but his Market Sense was only 56. Didn't vibe with crowds—box office tanked.
Dunn's three writers had elite storytelling but weak market instincts.
No sweat—specialization again. He'd grab some high "Market Sense" folks to tweak and advise.
Soon, he found Andrew O'Hare—weak across the board, but a 97 in Market Sense. Currently jobless.
*"If he joins, he's my chief market analyst,"* Dunn thought with a sly grin.
Then he searched "Artistic Taste."
The flip side of Market Sense, this was about a film's art vibe and critical buzz—key for awards.
He found Manohla Dargis, a woman with a 98. She was an apprentice under veteran critic Andrew Sarris, occasionally dropping sharp, edgy reviews in *The Village Voice*.
*"Talent! Total Oscar bait—my chief art analyst!"* Dunn laughed out loud.
Suddenly, it hit him—he was collecting the world's best like Pokémon! 😂
What a rush!
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