"Mr. Blackwood, you have to understand the market," the polished man from Paramount said, his voice was smooth . "Our offer of two million dollars is very generous."
It was May of 1996, and Static was a huge, surprise hit. It was on track to make $16 million in America, which was amazing. Now, all the big Hollywood companies had started to circle, hoping to buy the rights to show the movie in other countries for a cheap price.
From a normal business standpoint, the man from Paramount was right. But Zane knew this wasn't a normal movie. He knew the scary, spooky feeling of Static would be a hit all over the world. The movie could make sixty, maybe even seventy million dollars overseas.
"Thank you for your sincerity," Zane's CEO, Victor, replied politely, just as Zane had asked him to. "We'll need some time to think about our options."
After the man left, Victor shook his head. "Wow, that man was a pro. The big studios sure do have a lot of talented people."
"He is good at his job," Zane agreed, his voice thoughtful. "And his job is to get the best deal for his company. But our job, Victor, is to get the best deal for ours."
Zane leaned back, a new, determined idea forming in his mind.
"Victor, this is the problem," Zane said, his voice firm. "As long as we're just the farmers growing the crop, they'll always be the ones who own the roads to the market. They'll always take most of the profit."
He leaned forward, his eyes bright with a new plan. "I don't want to just grow the crops, Victor. I want us to build our own roads."
"Boss?" Victor asked.
"I'm putting three million dollars of my own money into the company," Zane said. "I want you to take that, plus all the money we're making from Static, and start building our own North American distribution network. Hire the best people, build it from the ground up. Let's do this the right way."
"Understood, boss," Victor said, knowing this was a huge, exciting step.
"But a big plan like that needs money now," Zane said with a small sigh. It was a tough choice. "Call Paramount back. Sell them the overseas rights. Sell the DVD and TV rights to whoever offers the most money. We need to get all the cash we can, right now."
It was a smart sacrifice. A few days later, the deals were done. Wald Pictures' bank account have $4.5 million More in it. It wasn't nearly as much as the movie was really worth, but it was the money they needed to build their future. And Zane knew exactly what to fund next.
Miles away, on a quiet soundstage in Burbank, that new future was already being filmed.
The set of Hard Candy was unnaturally quiet. The normal, busy sound of a movie set was gone. Today, they were shooting "the scene"—the scary, intense heart of the film.
Zane stood behind the monitors, watching quietly. On the screen, a 13-year-old Scarlett Johansson was giving a speech. She was so calm, it was chilling. She held a small medical tool in her hand as easily as a kid holding a crayon. Opposite her, the actor Mark Ruffalo was giving a performance so full of real, raw terror that it felt uncomfortable to watch.
The film crew, who were all tough, experienced workers, were visibly disturbed. One of the big, burly guys was staring at the floor, unable to watch.
Zack Snyder, the director, leaned forward, completely hooked. "Stay on his eyes, Scarlett," he whispered.
Zane watched it all, his heart pounding. He felt the skin-crawling horror of the scene, just like everyone else. But as the producer, he also saw something else. He saw the power of the acting. He saw the incredible, brave work his young actors and his director were doing.
"This is... this is intense," he thought, a feeling of awe mixing with the discomfort. "This is brave filmmaking. And... people are going to talk about this. This is the kind of scene that makes a movie an unmissable event."
"And... CUT!" Snyder finally yelled.
The entire crew let out a shaky breath, like they had all been holding it. As the actors were helped up, still trembling, Zane turned to Victor.
"Get marketing on the phone," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I have our tagline."
"What is it, boss?" Victor asked, still looking a little pale.
Zane's eyes flickered back to the monitor, where the spooky image of Scarlett's face was still frozen.
"It's simple," he said. "You won't be able to look away."
The rest of the movie shoot went perfectly, wrapping up in just under three weeks. Hard Candy was now ready to be edited. Zane's Hollywood machine was running smoothly.
But the giant, nine-figure cost of Spider-Man was still sitting on his shoulder. His next big win wouldn't be on a movie set. It would be in the place where he'd made his first fortune.
May 12, 1996. A Tech Industry Mixer, Silicon Valley.
Zane drove his old Ford right into the heart of the dot-com gold rush. The big conference room was buzzing with a wild, crazy, optimistic energy. This was a different kind of jungle than Hollywood, but one Zane understood just as well.
He wasn't just there for the free snacks. He was there to find the next big thing, the next big company, the next explosive opportunity.
He moved through the crowd, his famous, easy-going charm on full display. He listened, he asked questions, he made friends... all while his mind was quietly hunting for his next big score.
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