396-400

Chapter 396: A Gentleman's Revenge Can Wait Ten Years  

Who is Barry Diller?  

The man who ruled Hollywood in the '80s!  

Why was Michael Eisner such a domineering tyrant at Disney? Because back in the day, he and Jeffrey Katzenberg were both Barry Diller’s little sidekicks, learning every trick in the book from the master himself.  

After News Corp acquired Twentieth Century Fox, the traditional big three public TV networks—CBS, NBC, and ABC—were off-limits to foreigners. Rupert Murdoch had no choice but to start his own network. So, he called up the legendary Barry Diller, a force to be reckoned with, to build the Fox Network from scratch.  

How tough was that gig?  

Back then, the three major public networks—CBS, NBC, and ABC—had the market carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey, each pulling over 30% of the share. It was basically a three-way monopoly!  

For an independent film company in Hollywood, breaking the stranglehold of the six major studios was already a pipe dream. But cracking into the even more tightly locked-down world of public television? That was next-level impossible.  

Yet Barry Diller took the Fox Network and, against the relentless pushback from those three giants, carved out a foothold. He snagged a solid 15% of the market, turning Fox into the fourth major public network in the U.S. today.  

Because of that, the big three—outside of Viacom’s CBS—saw their shares drop to around 25% each.  

But here’s the kicker: this Hollywood legend, the guy who came up with the “high-concept” movie theory and birthed the Fox Network, hit a wall—twice—thanks to two titans of industry.  

The first? Rupert Murdoch.  

Barry Diller, riding high on his contributions, demanded more control and equity in the Fox Network. He came in strong, but Murdoch hit back harder. With ruthless precision, Murdoch bought out his contract, reclaimed the shares, and kicked him to the curb.  

That’s the emperor-level swagger of a media mogul for you!  

The second? None other than Sumner Redstone!  

Before this, Barry and Redstone were actually on decent terms—friendly, even. That is, until they both set their sights on Paramount, the crown jewel of Hollywood studios at the time.  

Paramount was pricey—way too pricey for anyone to buy outright with their own cash.  

Redstone went with a leveraged buyout, a classic move in the capital markets back then. Barry, on the other hand, teamed up with Wall Street private equity firms for a controlling stake. And let’s not forget: in the '80s, it was Barry, alongside his two protégés Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg, who turned Paramount into Hollywood’s top dog, steering it to the peak like a three-horse chariot.  

So, when it came to management support, Barry had the upper hand by a mile.  

Everyone thought this was going to be an epic showdown!  

But nope—it was a total blowout.  

Redstone’s connections and influence came through in a big way. Behind the scenes, he pulled strings and got the Wall Street money backing Barry to pull out at the last second.  

The result? Predictable. Redstone became Paramount’s sole bidder.  

Now, Paramount’s management didn’t exactly love Redstone, so after he sealed the deal, he cleaned house, swapping out a ton of execs. The current Paramount chair, Sherry Lansing, was handpicked by Redstone to step up in that chaotic mess and take charge.  

Redstone’s boldness and cutthroat style shone through in that acquisition, no question.  

But it doesn’t end there. The competition drove Paramount’s stock price through the roof, forcing Redstone to shell out an extra $3 billion. In the end, he paid a jaw-dropping $10 billion to claim Paramount Pictures.  

Redstone was furious—and he wasn’t about to let it slide.  

The fallout? Barry Diller’s Hollywood career was toast.  

He couldn’t stay in California, couldn’t hack it in New York, and ended up running off to Denver to crash with TV mogul John Malone.  

Now, with Malone pulling out of the cable TV game, Barry’s had to reinvent himself. Word is, he got some cash from Malone and, in this post-dot-com bubble era, decided to dip his toes into e-commerce.  

He’s done with the media biz for good.  

It’s a brutal lesson right there in front of us. A guy like Barry Diller—someone who shaped the modern Hollywood blockbuster and built the Fox Network from nothing—still ended up with his tail between his legs.  

Dunn Walker isn’t about to recklessly poke the bear that is Sumner Redstone.  

If it came down to a real, no-holds-barred fight, Dunn might just have to pack his bags and hightail it to Silicon Valley, banking on Netflix to stage his comeback.  

Dunn took a deep breath, his face stiff as a board. “Mr. Redstone, I handed the broadcast rights for American Idol to CBS instead of Fox or ABC, which the younger crowd prefers. I’m actively pushing for a co-investment deal between Paramount and Legendary Pictures. I even let Fantastic Four, a $30 million investment, get licensed out for a measly $8 million to—”  

Before he could finish, Redstone cut him off, feigning confusion. “Huh? Why are you bringing that up? I was talking about Six Feet Under. Did you mishear me?”  

Dunn clenched his teeth, his face turning ashen.  

Nearby, Penelope Cruz, Rose Byrne, and Abbie Cornish—who were helping him change—froze, barely daring to breathe, just standing there dumbfounded.  

Clearly, the invincible Dunn Walker they’d always known was in deep trouble this time!  

Was it really trouble?  

Maybe. Maybe not.  

In a flash, Dunn saw it all crystal clear.  

It was simple: Redstone just wanted to air Six Feet Under on HBO once.  

Tarzan TV’s rise came from months of killer content and the massive boost from Band of Brothers.  

HBO thinking one rerun of Six Feet Under would turn their fortunes around? Fat chance.  

The real issue wasn’t about rights—it was about Dunn backing down.  

At its core, this was about attitude.  

Redstone, sitting atop his multibillion-dollar Viacom empire, didn’t sweat the small stuff. What he cared about was his dignity as a business titan!  

Dunn had been playing little tricks to keep Redstone off guard while Tarzan TV shot up, looking like it might steamroll HBO. That was a challenge—a provocation!  

How could Redstone let some young upstart like Dunn climb over him?  

And let’s be real—why did Dunn have such a massive rep in Hollywood?  

Externally, it was the string of box-office hits and his “American Dream” rags-to-riches story. Internally, it was his “package investment” strategy and the way he’d mercilessly stomped on Disney’s Michael Eisner.  

Redstone wasn’t about to let that happen to him!  

If word got out that Dunn had beaten Redstone and used him as a stepping stone to launch Tarzan TV into the stratosphere, how could Redstone save face?  

So, the whole thing was straightforward: Redstone wanted Dunn to admit fault, compromise, and bend the knee!  

Six Feet Under was just the tool to make that point.  

Getting Dunn to say “sorry”? That was a fantasy—it’d be like starting a war. Redstone was sharp; he knew that. What he wanted was respect, not a brawl.  

Letting Tarzan’s hit show Six Feet Under air on HBO would send a clear message to the industry: Sumner Redstone isn’t Michael Eisner!  

What Eisner couldn’t pull off, Redstone could.  

Dunn went quiet for ten seconds, then burst out laughing, his tense face relaxing like he was chatting with an old buddy. “Oh, Six Feet Under! Haha, look at me, I totally heard that wrong!”  

“Oh?” Redstone paused, his smile carrying weight. “So… no issues then?”  

“Of course not!” Dunn’s tone flipped 180 degrees, brimming with enthusiasm. “When does HBO want to air it? I’ll set it up right now.”  

“How about now? Tarzan just finished its first run—perfect timing to ride that wave,” Redstone said, not holding back. When he spoke, he made sure to squeeze every advantage for his empire.  

“No problem, we can hand over the rights tomorrow!”  

Dunn agreed cheerfully, no hesitation.  

It wasn’t exclusive second-run rights anyway—besides Tarzan, at least 50 smaller regional stations across the country would air it eventually.  

Redstone was pleased with Dunn’s attitude. “And the price…”  

“Price? Mr. Redstone, you’re too kind!” Dunn laughed heartily, playing the generous card. “You’re a legend, someone I’ve always looked up to. You asked personally—how could I charge you? It’s free!”  

Redstone chuckled twice, and even over the phone, you could feel his energy radiating.  

“Alright then, it’s settled. Oh, and that package investment thing—I hear it’s still up in the air?”  

“Easy fix. I’ll fax Legendary Pictures right now and light a fire under them,” Dunn replied.  

“Mm.”  

Redstone nodded slightly, quietly impressed. Dunn’s shift from defiance to deference gave him a rush—like the time he’d escaped a fire at Warner Studios, a burning drive still smoldering in his chest.  

This kid’s something else!  

Of course, Redstone was confident no young punk could shake his throne.  

…  

The call ended, and Dunn’s smile vanished, his face turning dark, cold, and furious!  

Tarzan TV was on the verge of breaking out—it was inevitable.  

With summer blockbusters fading, Band of Brothers was now North America’s hottest piece of TV, its $80 million price tag only fueling the hype.  

Dunn had braced for pressure from Time Warner or HBO, but Redstone striking first? That was a curveball.  

That old fox!  

Dunn had always been the one stepping on faces, basking in the glory.  

This time, Redstone had turned the tables!  

For someone who’d barely tasted failure since his rebirth, how could Dunn stomach this?  

With his foresight and the “sunglasses system” cheat codes, he still couldn’t take down Redstone?  

Hmph!  

Dunn gritted his teeth, muttering coldly, “A gentleman’s revenge can wait ten years, Mr. Redstone… just you wait!” 

Chapter 397: You Can Take His Place 

Penelope Cruz, Rose Byrne, and Abbie Cornish were all freaked out by Dunn’s behavior—especially his muttering to himself. It was downright chilling! 

Redstone. 

Was he planning to go after Sumner Redstone? 

That seemed way too over-the-top! 

Penelope Cruz, being the oldest and most level-headed, spoke up first. “Dunn, are you in some kind of trouble? Should we tell Natalie?” 

She was genuinely worried. 

When Dunn’s temper flared, no one could rein him in except Natalie Portman. 

Penelope was seriously afraid that if Dunn’s stubborn streak kicked in, he’d roll up his sleeves and take on Redstone head-on. 

Sure, she wasn’t a businesswoman, but even she knew Redstone’s name carried weight—he was the king of the Viacom media empire! 

Meanwhile, Rose Byrne and Abbie Cornish, the two younger girls, just stood there, clueless and adorable, totally lost. 

Dunn cracked a small smile and opened his arms to Penelope. 

Her heart instantly settled. With a sweet smile, she nestled into his embrace, pouting softly. “I was really worried about you just now!” 

Dunn gave her red lips a quick peck and chuckled. “Relax, I’m not that reckless! Redstone, hmph, he’s just earned a spot on my blacklist for now!” 

Dunn’s blacklist was a long one: Bruce Willis, Tom Cruise, Michael Bay, Jerry Bruckheimer, Harvey Weinstein, Michael Eisner… 

And now, Sumner Redstone had joined the ranks! 

He wasn’t about to let any of them off the hook! 

Of course, these were all big names—not the kind you could take down with a casual flick of the wrist. That’d be wishful thinking. 

Dunn needed time. For now, it looked like Jerry Bruckheimer might be the first to fall! 

Penelope rolled her eyes at him. “You’re just talking nonsense.” 

Then she turned to Rose and Abbie. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone—not even your best friends!” 

The two Aussie girls nodded dumbly. 

Dunn couldn’t help but laugh quietly, though his opinion of Penelope shot up quite a bit. 

Lately, Charlize Theron had gone back to South Africa for a vacation, and she’d soon be starting her next movie. 

Without her partner-in-crime, Penelope had been sidelined a bit. After Rose dragged in her fellow Aussie Abbie Cornish, Dunn had been spending most of his time soaking up the youthful energy and soft charm of the two younger women. 

But judging by her actions just now, Penelope clearly had a caring side. 

Relationships between men and women are funny like that. If it’s just physical, it’s fragile. A deeper, emotional connection is what makes things solid. 

Dunn had “dated” plenty of women, but most of those stayed purely physical—Katherine Heigl, Naomi Watts, Jessica Alba, Sophie Marceau, and others. Once the fling ended, they couldn’t even call themselves friends. 

So far, he had three truly close female friends: Kate Winslet, Nicole Kidman, and Sofia Coppola—all of whom had evolved from “flings” into confidantes. 

Emotional fulfillment? Way more satisfying than anything physical. 

Dunn gave Penelope an affectionate squeeze and grinned. “Alright, come on, help me find some clothes. Let’s not mess up the important stuff!” 

Rose and Abbie scrambled into action, fumbling around in a flurry. 

Penelope, clearly feeling the warmth from Dunn, blushed a little, her face glowing. She bit her lip and whispered in his ear, “Can I come with you?” 

Dunn was headed to a small family gathering at Zack Snyder’s place. 

It wouldn’t be a big crowd—just Dunn, the Nolans, and a few key people from Resident Evil. 

That included the leading lady, Milla Jovovich, and the second lead, Michelle Rodriguez. 

“There’ll be other women there.” 

“That’s fine, I don’t mind,” Penelope said with a sly wink, her breath warm against his ear. “The more, the merrier, right? Don’t you like that?” 

Dunn pinched her cheek lightly. “You little vixen!” 

Her eyes lit up with delight. “So, you’re saying yes?” 

“Yep, you’re in!” 

He gave her nose a playful nip, half-exasperated, half-amused. 

All together? 

Not a bad idea. Milla Jovovich would probably be game, but Michelle Rodriguez might be trickier—she had a weird temper. 

Saw only had a budget of about $1.5 million, with simple sets and a flat pace. Strictly speaking, Resident Evil, which had already wrapped, was Zack Snyder’s real Hollywood debut! 

So, he was thrilled and hosting this private get-together at his place, inviting only his closest friends. 

Dunn showed up fashionably late in an artsy Armani suit, holding Penelope’s hand. 

Zack Snyder and Deborah Johnson, the hosts, greeted them warmly. 

“Hey, Zack, should I start calling her Mrs. Snyder now?” Dunn teased the couple right off the bat. 

Deborah glanced at Zack and smirked. “Not married yet!” 

Dunn chuckled. “Two months away—it’s practically tomorrow!” 

Zack looked downright blissful. 

Penelope jumped in with a sugary smile. “Wow, congrats, you two! A director and a producer—you’re the perfect power couple.” 

Zack’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a second. “Dunn’s not bad either—he’s a director, and Natalie’s an actress.” 

That left Penelope a little awkward. 

Deborah tugged Zack’s arm and laughed it off. “Come on in! Penny—can I call you Penny? Heh, Chris is inside. He’s directing Daredevil. Weren’t you up for Elektra? You should chat with him and his wife.” 

Penelope glanced at Dunn. He nodded, and she flashed a charming smile, linking arms with Deborah and heading into the party with a grin. 

Dunn, meanwhile, clapped Zack on the shoulder like an old pro. “You look wiped, man. Take it easy—Resident Evil’s not out till January. You’ve got time.” 

Zack grinned sheepishly. “I’m just… heh, a little hyped up.” 

Dunn gave him a knowing look, catching a weird vibe in his smile. “Is it because of Michael Bay?” 

Zack’s lips curled into a smirk. “I didn’t even tell you this, but last month, he reached out to me. Wanted me to pull some strings with you to let him off the hook.” 

“What?” Dunn blinked. “Seriously?” 

Zack snorted. “For seven or eight years, I kissed his ass, hoping he’d use his connections to get me a shot at directing. He always brushed me off. Now he’s in a bind and wants my help? Fat chance.” 

Yeah, anyone with a shred of pride wouldn’t go for that. 

Dunn frowned, glancing at him. “Still, shouldn’t you have checked with me first?” 

“Huh?” Zack froze, looking a bit dumbstruck. “You’re not thinking of helping him, are you?” 

Dunn paused, then burst out laughing. “No way! Michael Bay’s been trashing me in the press for two years. You think I’d let that slide?” 

Zack let out a relieved breath. “Knew it! That guy deserves a lesson—a hard one!” 

Dunn nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Michael Bay’s Hollywood career is already half-dead. Once Resident Evil hits and shakes things up, you’ll step into his shoes and become the ArtCenter College of Design’s golden boy!” 

Making your alma mater proud is a universal obsession, and Zack was no exception. His face lit up with longing, though his words stayed humble. “There’s still a gap. Bay’s been doing $100-200 million blockbusters. I’m just getting started.” 

Dunn pointed at him, laughing. “Zack, what’s with that tone? You’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?” 

Zack chuckled slyly. 

They were close enough now that there was no need to hide certain things. 

Dunn got serious. “I told you I’d give you the chances you need to become a top-tier Hollywood blockbuster director. This is just the beginning. Michael Bay’s not even in your league!” 

“Is it Marvel?” 

“Yep.” 

Dunn didn’t hold back. “Marvel’s got a ton of projects lined up. It depends on how Resident Evil turns out. If it’s solid, your next gig could be Ghost Rider. If it’s shaky, you might need another mid-budget film to sharpen up.” 

It was both a promise and a favor. 

Zack sighed, a mix of gratitude and emotion in his voice. “Dunn, no matter what, I owe you. Without you, I’d still be waiting years to chase this dream—maybe stuck shooting commercials forever.” 

Dunn slung an arm around his shoulders, all big-brother-like. “Don’t get all mushy on me. We’re brothers, right? If I don’t help you, who will? Besides—” 

He dropped his voice. “Those two girls—you seal the deal yet?” 

Zack’s face turned red. He wasn’t exactly smooth with stuff like that. “Deborah’s handling it.” 

“Deborah?” 

Dunn glanced around and spotted her in a corner on the right. 

She was holding Penelope’s hand, chatting with Resident Evil’s two leading ladies, Milla Jovovich and Michelle Rodriguez, all smiles and friendly vibes. 

Looked like things were going smoothly. 

Dunn grinned, satisfied. “Having a female producer sure comes in handy!” 

Zack’s forehead creased with mock frustration. “Chris and Emma are a team too, you know!” 

“Ha!” 

Chapter 398: The More Successful, The Harder You Work  

“How’s the script coming along?”  

During dinner, Dunn sat flanked by Penelope Cruz and Michelle Rodriguez, with Christopher Nolan across from him.  

Nolan set down his knife and fork. “There are still a few details to iron out, but it won’t delay the start of filming.”  

According to Marvel Studios’ plan, Daredevil was slated for a May 2003 release. For this project, Nolan would be grinding away for a solid two years.  

Dunn gestured with an open hand, signaling he could eat and talk. “Like I’ve said before, the story needs a high concept and deep themes—really showcase the superhero’s self-sacrifice.”  

Nolan nodded earnestly. “We’re starting in October. We’ll be shooting on location in Chicago, New York, London, Iceland, and more. The soundstages at Shepperton Studios in the UK are being revamped too. I’m planning to stretch the shooting schedule by another seven weeks—I’ve already put in the request with production. That means skipping next year’s awards season.”  

“Oh? Why’s that?”  

Dunn couldn’t help but put down his utensils, locking eyes with him.  

Nolan explained, “This is my first crack at a big commercial blockbuster. I want to give it everything I’ve got and make sure it’s flawless. That includes the action scenes and some of the Iceland shoots—I want to be hands-on to keep the vision consistent from start to finish.”  

Normally, a commercial blockbuster isn’t handled by just one crew. The director oversees the main stuff, while action sequences and secondary shots get passed off to a second unit. With TV shows, it’s even crazier—three or four crews working at once is standard.  

Dunn nodded. Nolan’s success clearly wasn’t a fluke—his work ethic was unreal.  

Nolan went on, “Even though Daredevil is a superhero flick, like you said, it’s not like Spider-Man. The focus is on realism. I’ll lean heavily on location shooting, practical sets, and physical models. CGI still feels a bit off—it lacks texture.”  

Dunn took a big swig of red wine. Michelle Rodriguez, sitting beside him, immediately stood to grab the bottle and refill his glass. He barely noticed, saying casually, “I’ll be listed as a producer, but I want this movie to have Nolan’s style, not just another typical Dunn Walker flick.”  

Nolan’s face lit up with excitement.  

Dunn’s commercial movies had shaken the world over the past few years. Film schools had even started research projects dissecting his cinematic language, special effects, and the reasons behind his success.  

Plenty of Hollywood producers were pushing directors to mimic Dunn’s approach.  

And here was Dunn, giving Nolan the green light to make a movie in his own voice. That was some serious trust!  

“I—I won’t let you down!”  

Nolan raised his glass in a toast to Dunn.  

His wife, Emma Nolan, sitting to his right, mirrored the gesture, visibly thrilled.  

Dunn flashed a warm smile and stood up like the host of the night. “Let’s all have a drink—here’s to Never Sinking and Mr. & Mrs. Smith crushing it at the box office!”  

Americans aren’t usually big on rowdy toasts, but with the big boss leading the charge, the mood picked up. Zack Snyder shouted, “Here’s to Resident Evil killing it too! Even if it doesn’t top Never Sinking, it’s gotta hit Mr. & Mrs. Smith numbers!”  

His fiancée, Deborah Johnson, quipped, “Zack, you drunk already?”  

Laughter erupted around the table.  

Everyone was dressed to the nines—guys in suits, ladies in evening gowns. The noisy vibe clashed with the fancy getup, but no one cared. They were having a blast.  

Once they settled back down, Michelle Rodriguez seized her moment, flashing a bright grin. “Mr. Walker, how much have Never Sinking and Mr. & Mrs. Smith made so far?”  

Dunn glanced at her. She was wearing a low-cut dress and leaning forward just enough to give him a peek down her top.  

Deborah Johnson’s matchmaking skills were clearly on point!  

“Never Sinking is at 890 million, Mr. & Mrs. Smith at 520 million,” Dunn said, unfazed.  

“Wow! That much?”  

Michelle was obviously fishing for a way to butter him up. “Mr. Walker, you’re incredible! I’m such a fan. Never Sinking will be your fourth movie to break a billion globally, right?”  

A billion?  

That’s a tall order.  

It was late August now, and the summer movie rush was winding down. The box office was heading into a slow season.  

Without some extra push, Never Sinking would struggle to top 1993’s Jurassic Park.  

As for Mr. & Mrs. Smith, it was pretty much tapped out.  

With at least 220 million in North America, it had no room left to grow.  

“9/11” was right around the corner. Action and war movies were about to face a major backlash.  

Even with its humor, Mr. & Mrs. Smith’s over-the-top explosions would remind Americans of planes crashing into towers.  

Theaters wouldn’t even wait for audiences to complain—they’d scale back screenings on their own.  

Dunn shook his head. “Never Sinking was directed by James Cameron, not me.”  

“But it’s still your movie—you’re the producer!” Michelle tilted her head, playing cute.  

Dunn’s mind flickered. He lowered his voice, “How’s your relationship with Milla?”  

“Great!” Michelle shot him a shy glance, biting her lip. “Milla was actually saying she wanted to chat with you tonight about funny stuff from the set, but then you showed up with Ms. Cruz.”  

Dunn chuckled inwardly, feigning confusion. “Tonight? Is that cool?”  

Michelle blushed—whether it was real or an act, it was convincing—and murmured, “It’s just talking, nothing else.”  

“Oh? If it’s just talking, what’s wrong with me bringing Penny along?”  

“Oh, come on!” Michelle giggled, patting her chest dramatically. “Mr. Walker, you’re so bad—you’re totally fishing!”  

She’d just made it crystal clear: she and Milla Jovovich were down to hang out with him together.  

But Dunn’s interest cooled a bit.  

Women like this—too much pretense, too much performance, too fake!  

She was just a fling, nothing more.  

Under the table, Dunn slid his hand into her skirt, brushing her thigh. “Call Milla later. Come over to my place tonight.”  

Michelle gave him a coy look and a soft “Mmm.” Then, “What about Ms. Cruz?”  

“She’s coming too, obviously.”  

“What? Oh my gosh, Mr. Walker, your hand—you’re terrible!”  

Penelope Cruz pushed open the study door and, sure enough, found Dunn at his computer, typing away furiously.  

Since last night, she’d noticed a shift in how he treated her—more tenderness, more affection. He’d even started tossing out fun little topics to chat about, instead of keeping things purely physical.  

It made her happy. She tiptoed over, and Dunn pulled her into his lap with one swift move. “Up already?”  

“You’re the early bird,” Penelope teased with a smirk. “After handling all three of us last night, you’re still up this early?”  

Dunn hugged her tight, laughing. “You doubting my stamina?”  

She grinned, then whispered, “How was last night?”  

“Pretty great. I had fun,” he said with a smile.  

Penelope perked up, her tone playful. “If you liked it, you could convince Rose and Abbie. With Charlize out of the picture, I could step in.”  

“Those two?” Dunn shook his head. “Nah, if you three teamed up, they’d totally gang up on you. Those girls get wild!”  

“How wild?”  

“Crazier than you and Charlize.”  

“What?” Penelope’s jaw dropped, her curiosity piqued. She squirmed in his lap. “Tell me, tell me! What are they like?”  

Dunn cracked up, leaning in to whisper a few words in her ear.  

“What?!”  

Even after last night’s wild antics and boundary-pushing fun, Penelope blushed hard, her eyes glistening with embarrassment. “No way, you’re lying! They wouldn’t—”  

Dunn glanced at the door and dropped his voice. “Here’s a little secret: Rose used to date Cate—Cate Blanchett. They were a thing. So, yeah, you get it now? Heh, the lesbian world—you wouldn’t understand.”  

Penelope bit her lip, her nose wrinkling. “That’s so awkward. Nope, I’m out—they’re kinda gross.”  

Dunn pulled her closer, laughing heartily.  

Her figure was full and stunning—on par with Charlize Theron, supermodel-level. Holding her felt amazing.  

Penelope nestled into his chest, glancing at the computer screen. Her gorgeous eyes widened. “Are you writing a book?”  

“Nah, a script,” Dunn said, shaking his head.  

“Didn’t you say the treasure-hunting one was done?”  

“This is a new one.”  

Now she was really shocked.  

The last script—National Treasure—was common knowledge among the girls at the hillside estate. Rose Byrne was set to star.  

Dunn had already finished that one, and now, just days later, he was diving into another?  

This successful and still hustling this hard?  

How’s anyone supposed to keep up? 

Chapter 399: The Golden Age of a Massive Sweep! 

A man deep in his work is way more attractive than one just flexing muscles with his shirt off. 

Penelope Cruz was practically starry-eyed over Dunn. “You’re already so successful—why not just kick back and enjoy life more? You like girls, right? With your charm and status, you could date as many as you want. Do you really need to work this hard?” 

Dunn sighed. “I can’t slack off! Did you forget that call from yesterday? That old geezer Redstone took me down a peg with one sentence—I didn’t even have a chance to fight back. If I don’t push myself, how am I supposed to get even?” 

Penelope furrowed her delicate brows. “But Mr. Redstone’s been building his empire for decades to get where he is today. Who knows? In a few years, he might not even be able to get out of bed. You wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” 

Dunn snorted. “That’s exactly why I need to hustle harder! I want to teach Redstone a lesson he’ll never forget while he’s still kicking. Otherwise, I won’t even get the chance for revenge! He needs to know that humiliating me over this ‘six feet under’ thing was the biggest mistake of his life!” 

Penelope wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got a lot of fire in you, huh?” 

Back in the day, she wouldn’t have dared say something like that to Dunn. 

But since yesterday, things had shifted between them. What started as a physical connection had grown into something deeper, more emotional. 

Dunn let out a long breath and shook his head. “I don’t want it to be like this either. But look at my age—I’m only [age omitted]! If I don’t fight, don’t grab what’s mine, don’t stand my ground, all those power-hungry, scheming jerks out there will swallow me whole sooner or later. The pressure to survive in Hollywood is insane!” 

Penelope smirked, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “So that’s why you’ve got all these different girls—to blow off steam?” 

“Hmm?” Dunn’s eyes lit up. He gave her a quick kiss, grinning. “Great idea! From now on, that’s my excuse for Nat.” 

“Dunn, you’re awful!” Penelope giggled behind her hand, then blinked rapidly, staring at the computer screen with excitement. “What—what’s this movie about?” 

Dunn gave her a playful smack on the hip. “Right now, you need to focus all your energy on Elektra. That’s a long-term role—a female superhero. Nail this part, and you’ll be set for life. Don’t get greedy.” 

Penelope pouted. “I was just asking! I’m not begging for a role or anything.” 

Dunn shook his head, amused. “It’s not a movie—it’s a TV show script.” 

“A TV show?” 

Penelope’s exotic eyes widened again. 

Clearly, in her mind, a top-tier Hollywood director like Dunn dabbling in television seemed like a waste of talent. 

Dunn huffed. “Redstone gave me a wake-up call, so fine—I’m doubling down on the TV industry. I’m throwing in more money, more effort, and I’m going to make the TV networks dominate!” 

Of course, that was only part of it. 

Writing movie scripts? What’s left to write? 

The future of Hollywood was all about big IPs. Every blockbuster hit would just keep churning out sequels. 

As a result, creative teams focused on original stories were jumping ship to television, leading to a golden age of iconic American TV dramas. 

What were the big movie franchises? 

Marvel Comics and DC Comics were the heavy hitters. Lucasfilm’s Star Wars series stood alone at the top. MGM’s 007 series was a century-old juggernaut. Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings adaptations had created legends. 

Then there were the Transformers series, Pirates of the Caribbean, Fast and Furious, Jurassic Park, Mission: Impossible, Bourne, and National Treasure franchises. 

Dunn had already snatched up a huge chunk of those. Meanwhile, Jurassic Park, Fast and Furious, and Bourne—Universal Pictures’ cash cows—would fall into his lap once he acquired the studio. 

He’d even tweaked the script for Mr. & Mrs. Smith, adjusting the structure and setup to make it sequel-friendly. The male lead was American, the female lead French. After unmasking each other’s secret assassin identities in the first film, it laid the groundwork for them to team up in a sequel against a bigger, badder international crime syndicate. 

What else was there? 

Mission: Impossible was untouchable. The Lord of the Rings rights? Pure fantasy. 

Twilight and The Hunger Games? 

Those were adaptations too, and Dunn didn’t dare touch them lightly. 

What if the authors were still brainstorming and writing? He could end up in a messy copyright dispute. Better to wait until they hit the market. 

In short, over the next 20 years, Dunn had locked down more than 90% of Hollywood’s box-office-dominating IPs. He had no need to write another commercial movie script. 

As for award-bait arthouse films? 

Too risky—hands off! 

A lot of arthouse scripts had been sitting around for decades. A movie released 10 years from now might’ve had its script registered 10 years ago. 

If Dunn wanted a piece of that pie, he’d have to tread carefully, do his homework, and avoid any missteps. A single copyright lawsuit could mean a massive fine and a devastating blow to his reputation. 

Take Black Swan from 2010—part of Darren Aronofsky’s trilogy. It was registered with the Writers Guild last year, and he’d already tapped his college buddy Natalie Portman for the lead. 

Or Lincoln in 2012—the script came just a year after Schindler’s List. Spielberg had locked in Liam Neeson for a second collaboration. 

Or Dallas Buyers Club in 2013—its initial draft was finished right after the real-life Ron Woodroof died in 1992. 

The list goes on. 

Copying commercial movies was easy. They had a shelf life, relied on big IPs, and copyrights were straightforward. 

Arthouse films? A minefield. Unless it was a rock-solid adaptation like Chicago, you couldn’t just dive in. 

By comparison, American TV shows were a breeze—practically free rein to copy and use! 

The elite talent was all in movies. Any fresh idea in TV wouldn’t sit on a shelf; networks would snap it up and shoot it immediately. 

Later, when classic TV dramas exploded, it was because the movie market got bogged down with IPs and sequels. Original movie teams lost their footing and pivoted to TV for creative freedom. 

Even Jonathan Nolan ditched films for HBO, giving us Westworld. 

It was only 2001 now—no such risks yet. 

This was a timing gap. 

The perfect moment for a massive sweep! 

Dunn had it all planned out. Whether he shot them or not, he’d write the scripts, register them, and claim the spots first. 

Walk someone else’s path and leave them with nowhere to go! 

Especially those standout network TV dramas. 

Not a single one would slip through his fingers! 

Penelope peeked curiously at the computer screen, giggling. “What show is this? Why’s there so much swearing?” 

“It’s for a premium channel—big creative freedom. It’s called Weeds,” Dunn said with a smile, glancing at the outline he’d typed up. A cold smirk tugged at his lips. 

Right now, he couldn’t take on Redstone head-to-head. But he had foresight—and he was about to stage a massive sweep! 

Starting in 2004, he’d kick off his own TV investments with Weeds. 

Sure, it wasn’t on par with HBO’s heavy hitters, but as a mid-budget urban dark comedy airing during work hours, it’d bring viewers some laughs and relaxation. Solid choice. 

Not every show needed huge sets or massive production. 

Once Weeds was done, he had Dexter, Queer as Folk, Californication, Nurse Jackie, and If Tomorrow Comes brewing in his head. 

He didn’t know every detail of those shows, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the concept, the vision! 

As long as he had the gist of the plot and the main characters nailed down, that was enough. 

Lock in the ideas, register them, and let the writers flesh out the specifics later when it’s time to shoot. 

And this sweep? It wasn’t just Showtime. 

This was just the start. 

Dunn would move fast, snagging every idea he could! 

HBO, Showtime, FX, AMC, Netflix, Amazon—any American TV show he could recall, he wouldn’t let a single one slip away! 

Right now, it was the golden age of a TV drama sweep! 

Chapter 400: Great Things Are Within Reach!  

The final episode of Six Feet Under aired on Sunday, August 19th. Band of Brothers was set to premiere on September 9th, leaving a two-week gap in between.  

During this stretch, DreamWorks was gearing up for a major push to hype Band of Brothers, pouring over $15 million into promotion. If the show could take off on Tarzan TV and spark a big social buzz, DreamWorks would have more leverage selling the rights internationally. Plus, they’d have a stronger hand boosting VHS and DVD sales.  

For the network, these two weeks were the warm-up act for Band of Brothers!  

Premium cable channels couldn’t run ads, but they could air trailers.  

Steven Spielberg himself had cut two versions of the teaser—epic, pulse-pounding stuff—ready to loop on their two affiliated stations.  

And to really set the stage, Dunn Films went all out, snagging broadcast rights to two killer movies to prime the pump: Fox’s comic-book flick X-Men and Universal’s quirky fantasy-comedy How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  

Dunn even sidelined his own The Net—a slow-burn drama wasn’t the vibe they needed right now. They wanted loud, explosive, emotional firepower.  

X-Men cost $20 million in licensing fees and was slated for the August 26th weekend.  

The Grinch ran them $28 million and was locked in for September 2nd.  

On top of that, to juice up subscriber numbers and installation rates, Dunn Films inked a short-term deal with Comcast.  

From August 26th to September 9th, for every million new subscribers the network gained, Comcast would score an extra percentage point from Dunn Films—capped at five points.  

Big rewards breed bold moves!  

Why did Comcast have such fat cash reserves? Simple: customer deposits and hefty service fees.  

More installations meant more deposits. More new users meant bigger revenue cuts.  

No doubt about it, Dunn’s move would light a fire under Comcast to push the network hard.  

To hype Band of Brothers and pave the way for Tarzan TV, Dunn was sparing no expense!  

Good thing Mr. & Mrs. Smith’s profits had rolled in. With $520 million in global box office, Dunn Films pocketed $170 million. The company’s cash on hand now topped $280 million—plenty to play with.  

In his office, Dunn paced back and forth, hands clasped behind him, looking antsy.  

Last night, The Grinch aired on Tarzan TV, and he was waiting for the latest numbers.  

Normally, he wouldn’t get a report on a Monday—operators took weekends off. The network could only pull rough viewership estimates.  

But thanks to the new deal, Comcast had been working overtime for two straight weekends, making sure households could still get hooked up and subscribed even on off-days.  

Over the past ten days, as expected, Tarzan TV’s paid subscribers had shot up.  

But the growth wasn’t as rosy as he’d hoped.  

Just 560,000 new subscriber households!  

So far, the network had 5.4 million subscribers total—boosted partly by Six Feet Under.  

It was still stuck at third place in North America.  

That rank gnawed at Dunn.  

X-Men hadn’t been the jolt he’d wanted. Now, it was all riding on The Grinch.  

It was September 3rd already. Band of Brothers was about to hit Tarzan TV for its global debut.  

If he couldn’t flash some dazzling growth numbers, it’d be a letdown.  

Suddenly, a knock at the door.  

“Come in!”  

Dunn barked it out, eager, stepping forward—only to see not a data report but Kevin Feige, president’s assistant at Marvel Studios.  

“Kevin?”  

“Boss, you heading out or something?” Kevin blinked, caught off guard by Dunn’s flustered vibe.  

Dunn waved it off with a self-deprecating chuckle, pointing to the couch. “Sit. What’s up?”  

Kevin sat, rubbing his hands together, a bit sheepish. “Boss, Spider-Man 2 just wrapped.”  

“Oh.”  

Dunn’s response was half-hearted.  

Kevin pressed on, “You promised me once Spider-Man 2 was done, I could start prepping my TV show.”  

That jolted Dunn back.  

Right—he’d greenlit it ages ago. Once Kevin finished producing Spider-Man 2, he could kick off his comic-book TV series, The Punisher.  

“Post-production’s a big deal too!” Dunn gave him a sharp look. “Kevin, you’ve gotta see a job through!”  

Kevin nodded quickly. “I know, I’ll stay on for Spider-Man 2’s post. But you know, as a production assistant, there’s not much for me to do there. I want to carve out more time to get The Punisher rolling.”  

Dunn let out a soft “Hmm.”  

He’d checked in with Nina Jacobson and Ridley Scott last time he was in New York—both raved about Kevin’s work.  

“Fine, I’ll sign off on it in principle.”  

“Boss, thank you!” Kevin lit up.  

“Hold up!” Dunn raised a hand, mulling it over. “Kevin, since you’re dead-set on The Punisher, let me ask you: what kind of character is he?”  

Kevin answered, “He’s not a hero—not even an anti-hero. He’s a criminal. A criminal who doesn’t hurt good people.”  

Dunn’s brow furrowed.  

Kevin went on, “To regular folks, he’s a gray area. You want to cheer him on for taking out the bad guys, but his methods are so brutal it’s hard to stomach. That’s his big draw, I think—his personality’s magnetic.”  

Dunn shook his head. “Kevin, don’t forget: The Punisher airs after Daredevil hits theaters. They’re buddies—you can’t split them apart like they’re unrelated.”  

The Daredevil script was locked, and Kevin, as a producer, had read it.  

But he looked puzzled. Pairing The Punisher with Daredevil—did that even fit?  

From the script, Daredevil was all gritty realism—an “epic good guy” who’d sacrifice himself, even his love life, for justice. He fought his mentor’s sister and girlfriend, Elektra, before saving New York.  

The Punisher and Daredevil were polar opposites!  

Daredevil didn’t kill, sticking to legal justice. The Punisher went hard, dishing out punishment way harsher than any law.  

“We’re not sticking to the comics?” Kevin asked, thrown off.  

Dunn said, “Comics are niche. Movies and TV? They’ve got massive reach. We can’t push evil through the protagonist’s lens.”  

Plenty of gritty crime dramas went big—Breaking Bad, Prison Break, Dexter. Why? Because even with flawed leads, they clung to a moral line, showing glimmers of humanity.  

The Punisher show from Dunn’s past life had stirred up a mess.  

Comic fans griped it wasn’t violent or evil enough. Critics trashed it as shallow, lacking depth or artistry.  

Yet ratings and reviews showed audiences loved it.  

Why?  

Because TV’s a long game.  

Short bursts of hardcore violence might grab attention as a gimmick, but over time, it’d turn viewers off.  

The so-called “top ten banned films” might spark curiosity, but who actually enjoys that stuff?  

Kevin frowned, confused. “So, are we still making The Punisher?”  

“No, Kevin, you’re missing it,” Dunn said, waving him off. “Of course it’s The Punisher. Political incorrectness is his core. But we need to show his inner conflict, give him depth, lean into his good side—not just slather on the evil.”  

Kevin nodded slowly, getting it. “I see. That struggle’s like Daredevil’s. His is justice versus the law; The Punisher’s is justice versus evil. Deep down, they’re the same type—just different approaches.”  

Dunn grinned. “Exactly! The Punisher isn’t a criminal! If you can pull off that kind of depth, like Daredevil’s vibe, you’ll earn your shot at directing a big commercial flick solo.”  

Kevin’s heart sank.  

Suddenly, he wondered if picking The Punisher was a mistake.  

This guy was tough to nail!  

He should’ve gone easy—maybe a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent spin-off, something light and action-comedy. Not this heavy, introspective slog.  

Kevin sighed. “In that case, I’ll need Deacon Whistler and Jonathan Nolan to help write it. Budget-wise, I’d say no less than $40 million.”  

Deacon Whistler was Dunn’s go-to writer, plucked from obscurity years ago. Now Dunn Films’ top scribe, he had a stutter but a 98/100 talent score, excelling at dark, action-packed, cop-and-robber scripts.  

Jonathan Nolan? No intro needed. He and Deacon had cooked up Daredevil’s script together.  

Dunn smirked. Kevin Feige’s ambition was no joke!  

Just then, the office door burst open. Isla Fisher rushed in, waving a report, practically bouncing. “It’s here, it’s here! 1.16 million! In the first two days of September, the network added 1.16 million new subscribers!”  

Dunn shot to his feet, eyes gleaming.  

Great things were within reach!