Bill Mechanic was furious!
Last year, the movie he backed, *Die Hard with a Vengeance*, topped the box office. This year, his latest project, *Independence Day*, also became a massive hit. So who could say that *Titanic* wouldn't surprise the world in 1997?
Bill Mechanic was obsessed with power. He despised the feeling of his subordinates banding together to counterbalance his authority.
James Cameron couldn't be replaced!
"I still insist—" Bill started, but then, a sudden flash of doubt crossed his mind. For some inexplicable reason, his conviction wavered.
"Bill, are you still insisting on keeping James?" Tom Rothman asked with a hint of mockery.
Bill took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, what I mean is... we must maintain our full support for the *Titanic* project."
Tom Rothman gave him a skeptical look. "Bill, are you saying... you agree to replace the director?"
Bill sighed. "James has been a huge disappointment. Fortunately, the movie has just begun filming, so we still have time to fix things."
The room fell into an awkward silence.
When did this guy become so easy to convince?
All of Hollywood was treating *Titanic* as a joke. But with the massive financial investment already made, 20th Century Fox had no choice but to keep moving forward, even if it meant gambling on the slim chance of Cameron pulling off another masterpiece.
Yet, unexpectedly, Bill Mechanic backed down.
"Alright, since we all agree on replacing him, let's discuss who should take over *Titanic*," Tom Rothman declared, seizing control of the meeting like a victor.
"I think Spielberg—"
"No, Steve is busy filming the *Jurassic Park* sequel. He doesn't have time," Jim Gianopulos interjected. "I believe Roland Emmerich would be a great fit. *Independence Day* made $800 million this year. He clearly has the capability to handle *Titanic*."
"Michael Bay is another solid choice. *The Rock* was a hit."
"Jan de Bont might be even better. *Twister* did well at the box office, and since it's also a disaster film, it fits the *Titanic* theme perfectly."
"Enough!"
Bill Mechanic's face darkened as he growled. He hated meetings that spiraled out of his control.
He was the CEO of 20th Century Fox. He was the one in charge!
"Grant, you mentioned James fired a production assistant today?"
Bill Mechanic's mind was in turmoil. Everything felt like it was slipping out of his grasp. He despised this feeling. He needed to reassert his authority as CEO.
"Yes. His name is Dunn Walker. Apparently, he had some minor dispute with Kate," replied Grant Hill, a diligent producer who had deep insight into the production.
"Dunn Walker..." Bill muttered, lost in thought. Then, out of nowhere, a bold, almost insane idea struck him.
"I believe Dunn Walker is the only person fit to direct *Titanic*!"
"What?!"
The entire room was stunned into silence.
Everyone was speechless.
Grant Hill had his own agenda. If James Cameron lost Bill Mechanic's support, Grant would gain control over the *Titanic* set.
Jim Gianopulos remained quiet.
Two years ago, he had led the charge in acquiring the film rights for *X-Men*, *Fantastic Four*, and *Deadpool* from Marvel. He was currently securing funding and developing projects to bring *X-Men* to the big screen. If the project succeeded and the franchise took off, it would be a massive achievement, one that could propel him further in his career—especially if Bill Mechanic made a mistake.
Tom Rothman had been waiting for Jim Gianopulos to mess up. He had long been fed up with Bill Mechanic's dictatorship, and now that Mechanic had finally blundered, Rothman certainly wasn't going to help fix it.
As for Chief Operating Officer Jack Howard, he was a cautious man. He had no desire to cross Bill Mechanic.
Seeing that no one objected, Bill made his decision. "Since no one is against it, it's settled. Send someone to inform James immediately! Also, first thing tomorrow morning, get Dunn in here to sign the contract!"
---
Dunn Walker walked into 20th Century Fox, feeling dazed.
This time, he wasn't heading to a film set—he was entering the CEO's office in the company's headquarters.
He had been told he was coming in to sign a contract. Immediately, his mind flashed back to the surreal vision he had after putting on those mysterious sunglasses yesterday.
"Could this really be happening? Could those sunglasses... actually be some kind of cheat system for Hollywood?" Dunn felt as if his entire worldview was crumbling. It was too crazy to believe.
But as he stepped into the CEO's office and saw Bill Mechanic's polite smile, Grant Hill's forced grin, and James Cameron's thunderous scowl, Dunn finally realized—
Everything was real!
"You're Dunn?"
The moment Dunn appeared, Cameron's fury erupted.
Dunn smiled slightly. "Hello, James."
Cameron was livid. He roared, "Bill, what the hell are you doing? You're replacing me with this kid? Do you have any idea that you're about to destroy *Titanic*?!"
Bill Mechanic frowned, visibly annoyed. "Jim, calm down! You've been the director of *Titanic* for—"
"What you did—are you really not aware?"
Cameron was well aware of the situation at Fox Studios. He felt grateful to Bill Mechanic for standing by him and was mentally prepared to walk away at any moment. But what he absolutely could not tolerate was being replaced by an eighteen-year-old kid with zero directing experience!
"Bill, I know you've taken on a lot of pressure for me, and I truly appreciate it. I even accept stepping down as the director. But… but we can't let this movie be ruined!"
Cameron had poured his heart and soul into this film. He had started writing the script back in '91, and by '94, he had already begun pre-production. It had taken two full years of preparation before filming officially started.
No one loved this project more than he did, and he couldn't bear to see years of hard work go to waste.
Bill Mechanic made a few downward gestures, signaling for calm, and sighed. "Relax, Jamie, take it easy. I know young Donnie might seem a bit too inexperienced, but I truly believe he's up for the job."
Dunn seized the opportunity and spoke loudly, "Of course! *Titanic* is a monumental project, and I will do everything in my power to make it a legendary success!"
Grant Hill praised him, "Well said, Donnie!"
Bill Mechanic chuckled, "Kid, you've got a talent for speeches."
Cameron let out a cold laugh. "No matter how eloquent he is, it doesn't change the fact that he's utterly talentless as a director!"
Dunn had always respected Cameron, but he couldn't tolerate being repeatedly provoked. Holding back his frustration, he responded, "Mr. Cameron, you call me incompetent, but let me ask you—if you were to continue directing, can you *guarantee* this movie's success?"
The film industry was high-risk, high-reward. Who could promise a sure win?
"You can't guarantee it—but *I* can!" Dunn pounded his chest, full of confidence.
Cameron sneered. "Oh? You can guarantee it? With what? Do you even know how big this budget is? To break even, the global box office needs to hit at least *$500 million*!"
At that time, Cameron was only a borderline A-list director. Even *True Lies* had only made a little over $300 million. To him, $500 million still felt like an astronomical number.
"$500 million? Hah!" Dunn scoffed, laughing dismissively. "A mere $500 million is *nothing*!"
"You arrogant brat!" Cameron roared.
Bill Mechanic shot Dunn a disapproving glance and said earnestly, "Confidence is good, but don't make reckless boasts—it'll only hurt you in the end."
But Dunn didn't care. *I've been reborn into this world—if I can't even talk big and act like a boss, what's the point?*
"Mr. Mechanic, you misunderstand me. When I say $500 million, I'm talking about *just* the North American box office—as a *conservative* estimate!" Dunn stood tall, instantly commanding the room's attention.
"$500 million in North America alone? Are you insane?" Cameron was so furious he actually laughed. "Who do you think you are? Spielberg? Even *he* couldn't reach that number!"
"Spielberg?" Dunn shook his head calmly. "See, Mr. Cameron, *that's* where you're thinking too small. Is Spielberg some kind of god? Can't he be surpassed?"
"Bill, you seriously think this arrogant little punk can handle *Titanic*?" Cameron demanded, his voice full of anger.
Bill Mechanic, however, narrowed his eyes and studied Dunn carefully. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "If you're saying North America can hit $500 million, then tell me—what's your global box office projection?"
"*$1.5 billion at the minimum. $2 billion is the goal!*"
Dunn's words rang out like a thunderclap!
"Excellent!" Bill Mechanic exclaimed. "I haven't seen a young man with this kind of ambition in years. The last time… was right before *E.T.*—when I met Steven Spielberg."
Cameron felt a deep sense of unease creeping over him. His expression darkened.
"Grant, prepare the contract. No more delays—we're signing with Mr. Dunn Walker *right now!*"
"Bill—"
"Enough!" Bill Mechanic cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Jamie, this is *my* decision!"
When the top boss had spoken, there was no room for argument.
Dunn secretly wiped away a bead of sweat, took a deep breath, and smiled in satisfaction.
*I did it.*
*I actually did it!*
A *magic cheat code* to Hollywood—this was unreal!
Now, he was really about to make history!
—
Under California's "Talent Act," actors must have an agent present when signing contracts. Directors, however, were often also producers, so they weren't subject to the same rule.
Dunn had snatched James Cameron's directing contract—meaning his salary was set at Cameron's rate.
*A base salary of $5 million, plus 10% of the global box office!*
"*Titanic*, hello."
"Hollywood—here I come!"
With an unsteady but determined hand, Dunn signed his name on the contract, his heart pounding with excitement.
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