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🕑 Added 2025-08-18 17:33:06 +0000 UTCChapter 471: Private Equity
Dunn could predict that Jobs would muster the courage to make a decisive break with Michael Eisner.
But what he hadn’t anticipated was that Jobs would go all-in, selling Pixar to Dunn Pictures!
Pixar had long been a prize Dunn coveted, a gem he’d wanted to claim for himself. After all, it was the world’s top animation studio! Beyond that, Pixar boasted a robust software development division. Many of the tools used in Pixar’s animations were developed in-house—even the current Mac interface and the USDZ format for future AR experiences were products of collaboration between Apple and Pixar.
Pixar also excelled at video post-production and visual effects enhancement. Once streaming video platforms took off, that expertise would be a goldmine, perfectly complementing a partnership with Netflix.
“Steve, honestly, this decision of yours is shocking!” Dunn said sincerely.
Jobs looked at him calmly. “I’ll say it again: buying out the contract doesn’t benefit me, but I’m also not about to let Michael Eisner have it easy. So… that leaves you to step in.”
Dunn couldn’t help but laugh and groan at the same time.
Unilaterally terminating a contract might be legally sound, but in a Western culture that prized integrity, it’d still leave a stain on one’s reputation. Jobs had a wild streak back in his Apple days, earning himself a bad name that got him ousted from the board by Wall Street-controlled shareholders. Now, it seemed he was once bitten, twice shy.
He wanted to strike back at Michael Eisner without tarnishing his own image, and selling Pixar to Dunn was a clever move—a win-win for him.
If Pixar ended up in Dunn’s hands, would its distribution deal with Disney still stand?
Jobs was clearly using Dunn to teach Michael Eisner a lesson!
Dunn, of course, was delighted. “Alright, I get what you’re driving at. I’m Pixar’s second-largest shareholder with 15% of the stock. To be honest, I always figured I’d acquire Pixar someday—I just didn’t expect it to happen this soon.”
Jobs replied, “Over the past few days, I’ve spoken with the shareholders. I told them I’m done with Disney—no more dealings! Pixar’s films will be scratched from Disney’s lineup. They didn’t agree with my call, though.”
Dunn grinned. “But you’re the majority shareholder, with over 50% of the stock—absolute control. Their objections don’t hold water, right? To cash out before Pixar’s stock tanks, they’ll have to go along with your plan to sell. Still… Steve, you’re playing too soft. With that kind of control, you could do whatever you want at Pixar. They’ve got no say!”
Jobs shook his head. “I don’t want to strain things with the investors. But selling Pixar to Dunn Pictures? That’s a decision I’ve already locked in.”
Dunn nodded, flashing a small smile. “No problem. At Pixar’s current stock price, plus a 10% premium, I’ll buy it all out!”
With Pixar’s market value topping $1.8 billion, a premium acquisition meant Dunn Pictures would shell out at least $2 billion!
Luckily, Dunn Pictures was flush with cash—over $8 billion on the books!
Spending $2 billion to snag Pixar would leave $6 billion. Buying Universal Pictures with that might be a stretch, but it wasn’t an issue. Dunn Pictures had almost no debt and could easily borrow to make it happen.
John Lasseter sat quietly off to the side. This wasn’t a conversation he could chime in on. With less than 3% of Pixar’s shares, he deferred to Jobs entirely.
Glancing at Dunn seated just ahead to his right—a young guy whose face still carried a hint of youth—was this really about to be his new boss?
John shook his head, marveling at how strange the world could be.
Jobs spoke gravely, “The acquisition… Dunn, you can’t do it with cash. That approach comes with too many hurdles and wouldn’t help stabilize the new company.”
“Hm?” Dunn raised an eyebrow. “You mean… stock?”
Jobs nodded. “A mix of cash and stock swaps is the best way. Shareholders who want to cash out can take the money and go. Those who believe in the new company can hold onto their shares. Honestly, I’ve got high hopes for you—I’d even be fine without taking a dime in cash.”
Cash deals weren’t the norm for big mergers since shareholders cashing out had to pay capital gains tax. Stock swaps dodged that tax entirely.
Holding stock was the biggest, safest tax shelter in the U.S.!
Take Buffett, the country’s second-richest guy. He paid just a few million in taxes each year because his wealth was tied up in stocks. No matter how high they climbed, as long as he didn’t sell, there was no capital gains tax—just a 20-30% dividend tax when his holdings paid out.
Per Jobs’ plan, Pixar shareholders who doubted the new company’s future could cash out; those who trusted Dunn’s vision could opt for stock in the new entity. (Even unlisted companies could issue stock—it just couldn’t trade freely on exchanges.)
Dunn’s expression soured a bit.
Why hadn’t the Dolby Labs acquisition gone through yet? Because Dr. Dolby and his son weren’t happy with an all-cash deal—too much tax. They wanted a “cash-plus-stock” arrangement.
The hitch? Dunn Pictures was still a private company, wholly owned by Dunn himself, with no stock restructuring done yet.
Dunn’s expectations for his company were sky-high, so he’d poured nearly all his funds into it. As Dunn Pictures expanded across film, TV, and animation, its valuation would only soar!
The earlier he restructured shares, the more he’d have to give up for the same equity stake—which was why he’d held off on reorganizing the ownership structure.
But with Dunn Pictures growing this big, skipping that step made acquiring other high-potential companies tougher by the day.
First it was Dolby Labs; now it was Pixar!
Equity deals often outshone cash offers in appeal!
Jobs seemed to read Dunn’s mind. “Dunn Pictures has a massive business portfolio now. Managing a company this size takes more than cohesion through slogans or a mission. Sure, ‘New Order, New Model, New Force, New Hollywood’ is a grand vision, but shared interests tie people together tighter!”
Dunn shook his head, giving Jobs a half-smile. “Steve, you’ve got me pinned, don’t you?”
“I don’t follow.”
Jobs looked perfectly unruffled.
Dunn said pointedly, “I’m starting to feel like you’re setting me up here. On the surface, it looks like Michael Eisner ticked you off, so you’re selling Pixar to Dunn Pictures to spite him. But now I’m wondering… is your real target Dunn Pictures? You heard I’m gunning for Universal Pictures and shifted all my funds here. You think Dunn Pictures has a brighter future than Pixar! So you’re jumping in early, before it goes public, swapping Pixar stock for Dunn Pictures stock. That’s one heck of an investment!”
Jobs burst out laughing. “Dunn, you’re too full of yourself!”
Dunn locked eyes with him. “Just tell me if it’s true or not.”
Jobs sidestepped the question, saying, “True or not, does it matter? Pixar’s future can’t stand alone—it needs a big film company to lean on. All its shareholders thought Disney was the best bet, but right now… this is the moment to hand Pixar over to Dunn Pictures.”
They’d known each other for a year now, and Jobs was blown away by Dunn’s insight and vision. Despite his youth and obvious flaws, Jobs was convinced Dunn could carve out a legacy in Hollywood.
If he had a choice, Jobs would pick Dunn Pictures over Disney for Pixar any day!
Michael Eisner’s public jabs at Jobs had given him the perfect excuse to flip the table and convince Pixar’s shareholders to sell to Dunn Pictures.
Dunn mulled it over for a long while before chuckling wryly. “Steve, you’ve got me working for you, huh?”
Jobs lit up instantly.
Dunn’s simple words carried big implications—first, Dunn Pictures would restructure into a stock-based company; second, it’d acquire Pixar with a “cash-plus-stock” deal; and finally, Jobs would become a shareholder and board member of Dunn Pictures!
“Working for me? That’s a stretch! Pixar’s scale doesn’t even come close to Dunn Pictures. Rough guess, my stake wouldn’t top 8% of the new company! If anyone’s working for someone, it’s me for you—your 16.5% in Apple says it all!” Jobs was in high spirits.
Dunn grinned too. “At Apple, you make me money; at Dunn Pictures, I make you money. Fair trade!”
March 8, 2002—International Women’s Day
On this day, Dunn Pictures dropped a bombshell: they’d team up with Wall Street titan Citibank to restructure the company’s shares and underwrite an internal sale of original stock.
Per Citibank’s numbers, Dunn had pumped $8.5 billion into the company, with a total of 850 million shares. This private placement would offer 50 million shares at $10 each, exclusively to Dunn Pictures employees.
That’s $500 million to raise—way more than the staff could handle.
Take Bill Mechanic, the guy with the biggest allocation at 6.5 million shares. Could he cough up $65 million in cash for that? Scrape every penny from his pockets, and he’d maybe cover half!
The other employees were in the same boat.
$500 million might be pocket change for Dunn Pictures, but in a sluggish economy, it was a fortune anywhere else.
With fewer than 2,000 employees, there was no way they could fully subscribe to 50 million shares.
So what about the leftover stock?
Simple—it was Women’s Day, after all!
Chapter 472: Subscribing to Original Shares
Dunn had it all figured out.
For him, Dunn Pictures wasn’t just about money—it was a symbol of power and social status. Cash was secondary.
If he were chasing pure profit, he’d have dumped all his money into tech giants like Apple, Amazon, Google, Alibaba, or Samsung Electronics. No way would he bother with the hassle of running a company.
Once wealth hits a certain level, it’s just numbers.
Power, influence, social standing, leaving a mark in history—that’s the real game!
Citibank was underwriting Dunn Pictures’ original shares this time, taking a 3% cut. If all 50 million shares sold smoothly, they’d pocket $15 million—a haul bigger than some small companies’ IPOs!
As for whether those 50 million shares would fully sell? No sweat.
Dunn Pictures’ employees couldn’t swallow a $500 million chunk of stock on their own, but Hollywood’s full of stars, and Dunn’s network was deep.
Word got out, and big names started calling—George Lucas, Ron Meyer, Michael Ovitz, Brian Lord, you name it—all itching to grab a piece of Dunn Pictures’ original shares.
Outsiders might not get it, but insiders knew: stick with Dunn, and you’re set—booze, steaks, and stacks of cash!
Dunn Pictures was hands-down the most promising player in the industry!
Dunn’s response was consistent: if there were leftovers, he’d keep them in mind.
He wasn’t issuing these shares to pad anyone else’s wallet.
Beyond his employees, the main target was the actresses he’d been tight with over the years—Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett, Charlize Theron, Liv Tyler, Sophie Marceau, Sofia Coppola, Rose Byrne, Jessica Alba, Anne Hathaway, Milla Jovovich, and more.
Among them, his closest gal pals—Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett, Sofia Coppola, and Penélope Cruz—got the biggest allocations: 3 million shares each.
That’s $30 million a pop. Only Nicole could swing that kind of cash. Sofia had to borrow big from her family to make it work.
Penélope scraped together enough for 700,000 shares, with 150,000 held for her sister, Mónica Cruz.
As for the B- and C-listers, their buying power was weaker—usually 100,000 or 200,000 shares tops.
Even though these were original shares, the steep $10 price tag gave Citibank some headaches during the rollout.
No biggie for Dunn, though.
If his staff and the actresses couldn’t cover the full 50 million shares, the next tier was ready to pounce.
His guy friends—Leonardo DiCaprio, Mel Gibson, James Cameron, Heath Ledger, Matthew McConaughey, Tom Hardy, Tom Hanks, Nicolas Cage, and others—had the muscle to snap up all 50 million shares themselves!
Sophie Marceau moved with a light, slow grace, slipping her scattered clothes back on piece by piece in front of Dunn, like a scene in slow motion.
Her pure, lovely face glowed with a fiery allure, her water-blue eyes shimmering with a soul-snaring magic. She stared at Dunn, lounging smugly on the sofa, her lips curling up slightly—still hungry for more.
She’d come by today specifically to thank him.
Unlike a lot of American actresses, who’d gotten Dunn’s nod to buy shares and offered verbal thanks, Sophie was different. A foreigner breaking into Hollywood was tough, so when the moment called for it, she went all out—eager and warm.
She’d snagged 500,000 shares and made a special trip to Dunn’s office, delivering a tender, meticulous “thank you” that felt like pure bliss.
Dunn sprawled on the sofa, watching her dress, and couldn’t help but gush, “Sophie, you’re mesmerizing—God’s gift to men!”
Sophie dangled her bra in her hand, twirling it playfully, then shot him a sultry glance. “You like?”
“Of course! If you weren’t already in your thirties—and I didn’t want to mess up your personal life—I’d have you back at Half Mountain Manor for a while,” Dunn said, savoring the thought.
Sophie laughed. “No worries! You can… call me anytime. One ring, and even if I’m in France, I’ll hop on the first flight over.”
Picturing that made Dunn smirk and shake his head. “You’ve got 500,000 shares now—don’t just sell them off. Even if Dunn Pictures goes public, hold onto them. In ten years, those 500,000 shares could be worth… $100 million, maybe $200 million!”
$200 million might not faze a mega-rich tycoon, but for an actor? That’s a fortune!
Forget actresses—even top-tier male stars would gawk at that number. In today’s Hollywood, only Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson could boast that kind of wealth.
Sophie’s eyes lit up, and she flung herself into Dunn’s arms, practically ready for round two.
He waved her off, though. “This is the office—I’ve got work to do. Forgot how many times my secretary’s nagged me already?”
Sophie blinked fast, miming a phone call with her hand. “Miss me? Just ask!”
Five minutes later, she was gone. Little secretary Isla Fisher stepped in, nose wrinkled.
“Man, it reeks in here!” Isla’s face tightened as she tidied the chaotic desk. “This is an office! What if someone finds out? Talk about awkward.”
Dunn rubbed his nose, grinning sheepishly. “It’ll be fine once we move to the new building in August. The office there’s… huge. Heh, like a dozen rooms—no more cramped vibes like this.”
Isla just stared, speechless. Looked like Dunn was fully embracing the office romance life.
“Do you have any idea how many people I’ve had to fend off this past hour?”
“Oh,” Dunn replied casually, then perked up. “Hey, has Rose shown up yet?”
“Rose Byrne?” Isla was done—on the verge of losing it. “Seriously, boss, this is an office! Watch yourself! You’re not worried, but I am! I’m your secretary—I don’t want people giving me weird looks. And didn’t you just finish up with Sophie Marceau? Need a breather or what?”
Dunn laughed, half-annoyed, and flicked her forehead. “You little secretary, griping at me now? And who said I called Rose over for a fling? Don’t you know she’s living at Half Mountain Manor these days?”
“Huh?” Isla blinked, thrown off. “Then why’d you call her to the office?”
“For work, obviously! It’s about casting for Ant-Man.”
“The female lead?”
“Yup.”
Isla’s eyes widened, and she gasped, “Wait—Rose is ‘Wasp’?”
Both were Aussie natives, and the “Aussie crew” was Hollywood’s tightest-knit bunch.
Hearing Rose Byrne would star as Ant-Man’s lead—and later a key Avenger as Wasp—made Isla genuinely happy for her compatriot.
Dunn teased, “What, you wanna act too?”
Isla shook her head fast. “Nope, no interest! Hollywood’s too… whatever. My dream’s shot anyway. I just want a quiet gig as an office gal, maybe write a book or two, dip into the literary scene.”
Dunn grinned. “Ambitious! I can’t help much there, though. If you want another bestseller like Gone Girl, that’s on you.”
“What about your new book? You writing it yourself?” Isla asked, curious. Dunn’s Hit Strategy was slated for October, by his own word—a pro-level book aimed at the film market, with some business insights tossed in. Theory stuff she couldn’t touch.
“USC hooked me up with two grad students,” Dunn said. “They’re sorting my speeches and pulling in data references.”
“Oh.” Isla nodded, her mind bouncing around. “So, Ant-Man—who’s the lead? Another Aussie?”
Dunn huffed, “All Aussies? Nah, it’s an American—Paul Rudd!”
“What about Ghost Rider? Aussie there?” Isla asked, hopeful.
Dunn smirked. “British—Clive Owen!”
Chapter 473: The Making of a Hit TV Show
In the U.S., employees’ work hours are tightly regulated—eight hours a day is not just a norm, it’s enforced by law and ingrained in the culture.
But for truly ambitious, goal-driven high achievers, those rules don’t apply.
Take Elon Musk, the head of PayPal. The guy’s a workaholic, clocking over 18 hours a day! He crashes at the office every night, sprawling out on the floor in a sleeping bag. Come morning, his staff literally kick him awake, and he’s right back at it.
Then there’s Steve Jobs, Apple’s big shot. A vegetarian who’s up at 4 a.m. every day—working out, checking emails, kicking off his workday. More often than not, he’s burning the midnight oil too.
Or Bill Mechanic, president of Dunn Pictures. He’s pushing past 14 hours daily, especially since the company took on the STA Network. The guy’s so swamped he’s holding conference calls in the shower!
Even Disney’s Michael Eisner has no personal life left—every ounce of energy goes into work. Sleep, then work, rinse, repeat.
The more successful someone is, the harder they tend to grind. For these people, it’s not about overtime pay—it’s a burning obsession, a relentless pursuit.
Dunn, though? He’s the odd one out. He caps his workday at eight hours, no exceptions. And even within those eight, he’s often off doing something random.
Like firing off a flirty email to some actress, making a sweet call to a pretty girl, or straight-up inviting a gorgeous woman to his office for a little “quality time.”
Sure, Dunn’s technically the CEO, but in reality, he’s more like the chairman of Dunn Pictures—focused on big-picture strategy.
That said, he’s hands-on with one key area: content creation.
Whether it’s movies or TV shows, Dunn’s the final say on every project.
Recently, the lead for Ghost Rider was locked in: British actor Clive Owen. Tall, ripped, with those bluish-gray eyes that ooze a wicked charm—he’s perfect for the “Ghost Rider” vibe.
Nicolas Cage has a bit of that devilish edge too, but Clive’s got the physicality nailed.
The original Ghost Rider from Sony Pictures leaned hard on Cage’s demonic transformation as its only hook. Low budget meant a thin plot and lackluster visuals—critics tore it apart.
Even so, Ghost Rider 1 raked in $230 million worldwide.
Dunn’s version? No cutting corners. Budget’s a hefty $150 million.
And the script? It’s a full-on production!
To nail it, Dunn set up a “Project Management Committee” led by veteran producer Frank Marshall. He pulled together the production team, writers, market analysts, Marvel Entertainment’s creative crew, and Marvel Studios’ script department—everyone brainstorming to craft a classic.
The writers Dunn handpicked through his “Sunglasses System” are scripting wizards, no doubt. Problem is, their genius doesn’t always sync with market trends. Classic doesn’t guarantee fan love.
That’s where the production and market analysis teams come in, syncing everything up.
Just yesterday, Frank Marshall shot down a Ghost Rider draft. With Dunn’s okay, he brought in a heavyweight writer to join the committee: Frank Darabont.
Who’s Frank Darabont?
Only the producer, director, and writer behind The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile!
Dunn’s all over this. He even sent a note to the committee, suggesting the script’s core could draw from Buddhist philosophy, summed up in one line: “If I don’t go to hell, who will?”
For lighthearted flicks like Spider-Man or Ant-Man, the script’s a breeze—just tweak the comics and toss in some witty humor.
But for darker, serious stuff like Daredevil or Ghost Rider, it’s a tightrope walk. They need market appeal plus real depth—philosophical meat that’s tough to pull off.
The Daredevil script’s in the hands of the Nolan brothers, and Dunn’s confident they’ll deliver.
Ghost Rider’s script, though? Trickier.
But what’s really gnawing at Dunn isn’t Ghost Rider—it’s finding a hit TV show to keep STA Network climbing!
Band of Brothers put STA on the map as America’s hottest premium cable network!
Once it wrapped, though, viewers were left hungry for more. Compared to Band of Brothers, other shows just don’t hit the same.
Dunn gets it, but the million-dollar question is: what’s the next big topic for a breakout series?
That day, J.J. Abrams dropped by, offering to team up with Dunn Pictures on a big-budget show.
In other words, he was ditching his ABC project, Lost.
Dunn was thrilled. Weakening Disney was a bonus, but snagging Abrams—a sci-fi genius with endless potential—was the real win.
Sure enough, when Abrams heard Dunn hadn’t settled on a concept for the big show, he jumped in: “I heard Dunn Pictures nabbed the TV rights to Stephen King’s classic The Dark Tower. That true?”
Dunn chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. But… I don’t think The Dark Tower’s ripe for adapting. Not yet, at least.”
“It’s got a huge name, though,” Abrams pressed, puzzled. “Stephen King’s got over a hundred million fans. That fits your ‘hit formula’—the added value from an existing property.”
“True,” Dunn said, “The Dark Tower has some built-in value, but not enough! What’s hot right now? Epic fantasy! The Ghost Rider script’s leaning that way too… Never mind, forget that. Point is, with The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter blowing up, magic and fantasy are the biggest trends out there.”
“Harry Potter?”
Abrams blinked.
Dunn grinned. “First movie, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, hits theaters this Christmas. It’s gonna crush it.”
Abrams nodded. Dunn-produced films? Box office gold, no question.
Still, Abrams thrived in sci-fi, not fantasy—a bit of a snag for him.
What concept could he pitch?
Creativity alone wouldn’t cut it. Per Dunn’s theory, a hit needed “added film value”—an IP like a novel, real event, historical tale, game, or toy to build on.
Abrams raised an eyebrow. “I caught a movie the other day—oh, you produced it, actually. Zack Snyder’s Resident Evil. Super fun, tons of potential for adapting. Last year’s Tomb Raider, this year’s Resident Evil—game adaptations could be a goldmine.”
Dunn nodded. “Yeah, Resident Evil’s solid. Zombies have a lot of room to grow as a genre.”
Truth is, Dunn had been mulling it over lately—maybe shoot The Walking Dead and go all-in.
It’s AMC’s flagship show, with influence in North America rivaling Game of Thrones. And the director? Frank Darabont, no less!
But then he thought twice. Nope, wouldn’t work.
AMC’s The Walking Dead came from a 2003 comic that ran for seven years before hitting TV. Its success was tied to that IP.
In 2002, it’d be an original concept—no prior buzz to lean on. It wouldn’t pop like it did in another timeline.
Still, Dunn had a plan. Shoot The Walking Dead ASAP. Once Darabont wrapped Ghost Rider’s script, bring him on to direct!
It’s a gritty, end-of-days drama packed with human struggles—not about cheap thrills or suspense, but deep character work and meaning. Perfect for boosting STA’s brand.
That said, The Walking Dead would just be a supporting act. STA needed a true ace up its sleeve!
Dunn said, “My original idea was adapting The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings into a show, but with the Rings movies out now, the timing’s off.”
Abrams, still hooked on the earlier thread, mused, “Epic fantasy’s hot, game adaptations are hot—combine the two, and you might get some serious sparks.”
“What?”
Dunn’s eyes widened, practically jumping out of his seat.
Abrams froze. “Uh… what? I said… sparks, you know, a figure of speech—”
“No! The line before that!” Dunn’s voice buzzed with excitement, his gaze intense.
Abrams blinked. “Before that… I said combine epic fantasy with game adaptations.”
“That’s it!”
Dunn slapped his thigh, grinning ear to ear.
Abrams caught on, his own excitement building. “Mr. Walker, did… did you just get an idea?”
“Haha!” Dunn laughed heartily. “Jeff, you ever played a game?”
“What game?”
“Warcraft.”
Chapter 474: A Century-Old Brand Does Warcraft Have Adaptation Potential?
The answer is a resounding yes.
After Red Alert was abandoned by EA, Warcraft quickly rose to prominence, becoming the world’s most beloved role-playing real-time strategy game today.
Released in 1995, Warcraft II: Tides of Darkness, followed by Warcraft II: Beyond the Dark Portal in 1996, defined an era. Alongside Blizzard’s other hits, Diablo and StarCraft, these games stood as the three titans of their time.
Especially after the introduction of online multiplayer strategy mode, competitive gaming was born. The saying “fighting against others is endlessly fun” was perfectly proven in Blizzard’s titles.
Beyond that, Warcraft’s story is captivating. Sure, it borrows heavily from The Lord of the Rings, but in 2002—right now—other than the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy, where else can audiences find an epic fantasy saga with such a grand backdrop?
The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter lean in different directions. Only Warcraft can stir up those Lord of the Rings vibes for movie fans.
Plus, that similarity helps a lot of non-gamers grasp the plot. Everyone’s so familiar with The Lord of the Rings—dwarves, orcs, undead, night elves—once they show up, people get it right away.
The downsides of being a copycat are obvious, but the upsides are just as clear.
If you turn Warcraft into a TV series and avoid competing with The Lord of the Rings on the big screen—no crazy attempts to match its visuals or depth—it could be a total game-changer. On TV, as the first-ever epic fantasy series, Warcraft would make waves.
And get this: Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos drops this July, and Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne comes out next July. If Dunn decides to produce a Warcraft TV show, it could air next fall, riding the hype of the new game releases and sparking a viewing frenzy.
From an entertainment perspective, Warcraft is a goldmine for adaptation!
But Dunn Studios’ strategy isn’t just about movies and TV.
Dunn’s got big ambitions—he hates working for someone else!
Imagine this: if Dunn Studios pitches a Warcraft TV series, Blizzard would jump at the chance. They might even let him shoot it for free.
Why? If the Warcraft story blows up, it means more gamers!
Blizzard rakes in more cash!
Even bigger, after Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne, Blizzard’s got a massive new project lined up—World of Warcraft!
If Dunn Studios’ Warcraft series heats things up, it’d be a huge boost for Blizzard’s upcoming online game, World of Warcraft.
The Warcraft TV show would basically be a billion-dollar ad for World of Warcraft!
Dunn’s not about to pour over $100 million into a series just to become someone else’s billboard. That’d leave a bad taste in his mouth.
Even if the show’s a hit and Dunn Studios makes bank, it’d be peanuts compared to what Blizzard would haul in!
Why should that be okay?
Dunn’s fine eating the meat while others sip the soup—but someone else eating the meat while he’s stuck with the soup? No way, he’s not here for handouts!
The only solution? Keep the meat and the soup in his own bowl.
“What? You want to buy Vivendi’s gaming division?”
Bill McNick was called into Dunn’s office, and when he heard Dunn’s plan, he was too stunned to speak.
Dunn laid it out simply: his goal to adapt Warcraft into a TV series. Then he added, “Movies, games, toys, publishing—they’re all part of the same chain. Right now, it’s all about integrating resources. Linking everything up boosts efficiency, cuts costs, and opens up bigger profits.”
Bill frowned. “We haven’t even locked down Universal Pictures yet, and now you’re eyeing Blizzard? Dunn… isn’t that a bit too ambitious?”
Vivendi Group has a massive entertainment division—Vivendi Games, Vivendi Films, Vivendi Publishing, Vivendi Music, Vivendi TV Network, and more.
Bill got Dunn’s vision, but Vivendi’s on a hot streak, expanding aggressively. They’re bigger than Viacom, second only to AOL Time Warner as the world’s top media conglomerate.
Even as a French company, could Dunn Studios really take them on?
Dunn shook his head. “Bill, you might not know the full picture. I’ve been keeping tabs on Vivendi for the past six months. Their CEO, Jean Messier, is bold, efficient, and full of American-style swagger—which totally clashes with France’s business culture. In 2001, Vivendi lost 13.6 billion euros, and their balance sheet? They’re drowning in over 3 billion euros of debt!”
Bill barely had time to keep up with Dunn Studios’ workload, let alone dig into some French company. He’d only heard bits and pieces. “Wait, didn’t a French survey earlier this year call Messier ‘the most entrepreneurial and business-savvy French icon’ or something?”
Dunn burst out laughing. “Simple—it’s national pride talking! Messier’s leading a French company on a buying spree in the U.S., and that’s got the French feeling all puffed up. They see his rise from manager to CEO as a global takeover blueprint.”
“It’s like when Japanese companies swept into the U.S. for big acquisitions back in the day. And what happened? They choked on it! Panasonic’s out, Sony’s fading fast. But to the Japanese, Sony cracked open America’s gates—it’s their pride, a symbol of their rise.”
“That survey you mentioned? Probably just a bunch of clueless folks hyping him up. Real business pros have already spotted the flaws in Messier’s debt-fueled buying spree. Just recently, Vivendi sold 15.8% of its environmental division for 1.7 billion euros to pay off debt interest. That’s the crisis showing its face.”
Bill was floored. “Vivendi’s already selling assets to cover interest? The board’s got to be reacting, right?”
Dunn nodded. “Oh yeah. In just over three months this year, five Vivendi board members have jumped ship. And with all that debt pressure, the management team’s cracking. Messier’s obsessed with conquering markets and making deals, leaving the actual running of things to his assistants. But honestly, no one can handle that mess.”
In 2001, Messier led Vivendi to swallow 59 companies in a row, setting a world record!
Since 1998, through cash and stock deals, he’s burned through 77 billion euros!
Sure, Messier’s dream came true fast—he built a global media empire. But now, both inside the company and on Wall Street, he’s lost all trust and clout.
Still, Messier’s brimming with confidence, charming the board with big talk and boldly claiming he’ll run Vivendi for another 15 years!
In management, he flip-flops constantly, sets contradictory goals, then blames others for the fallout. He shuts down dissent and loves to ramble on about himself in meetings…
Bill’s face turned serious as he sank into thought.
Dunn smirked, grabbed a copy of Businessweek from his desk, and handed it over.
“What’s this?”
“Turn to page 18.”
Bill flipped it open and saw a bold headline: “Four Media Titans—Who’s Out First?”
First up: AOL Time Warner’s COO, Robert Pittman, with odds of 2.1:1. (He’s an America Online guy, but Time Warner’s crew is taking over.)
Next: Viacom’s president, Mel Karmazin, at 1.6:1. (His feud with Sumner Redstone is getting ugly.)
Then: Disney’s chairman and CEO, Michael Eisner, at 4:1.
And finally: Vivendi’s CEO, Jean Messier, with odds of a dead-even 1:1!
From those odds, Businessweek was betting Messier’s out within months!
Bill set the magazine down, still looking puzzled. “Dunn, even if Messier’s gone, so what? How do you know they’ll ditch their entertainment businesses?”
Dunn grinned. “The news, man—French news spilled it. Vivendi’s two big shareholders, the Bronfman family and financier Paul, want to sell off everything in the U.S. except leisure and theaters. They’re fed up with the American market. And that’s all the stuff Messier spent years building up—it’s his baby.”
Bill couldn’t help but laugh, half-annoyed, half-amazed.
This Dunn guy—usually shoving all the company’s big and small headaches onto him—turns out he’s been pouring his energy into studying the competition.
Dunn’s business game isn’t about management—it’s about playing people!
He’s got Vivendi completely figured out.
If things at Vivendi are as shaky as Dunn says, Dunn Studios might actually have a shot at snagging some key pieces of Vivendi’s entertainment empire.
Bill gave Dunn a long look, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “Dunn, you’re not just after Universal Pictures and Blizzard, are you? Vivendi’s entertainment assets are pretty tempting.”
Dunn smiled back, dead serious. “Of course! If we’re making a move, we’re going big! I want Universal Pictures, Universal Music, and Blizzard Entertainment—all in one package! Universal Music’s label is ‘Universal’—I can’t let it split from Universal Pictures. That century-old brand belongs in Hollywood!”
Chapter 475: Acquire! Acquire!
Dunn’s made up his mind—he’s going to produce Warcraft. But there’s a catch: it hinges on him successfully acquiring Blizzard.
A Warcraft TV series, paired with the Warcraft standalone games, the World of Warcraft online game, and tie-in novels, would be a perfect mix—a synergy that’d make everything shine brighter.
As for whether Vivendi would sell Blizzard… well, if the price is right, it’s a done deal.
Vivendi’s brutal handling of game studios is almost as infamous as EA’s. Sierra Entertainment, the folks behind Half-Life, got shut down. Blizzard North, the team that made Diablo, was half-dismantled. The Blizzard crew has been at odds with the French execs for ages—they’ve been itching to switch bosses.
The video game industry’s a wild ride. Over the past two decades, tons of big-name companies have crashed and burned—from handheld games to console titles, and now PC gaming.
The times change too fast.
Even Microsoft’s been stumbling in the gaming world.
But Dunn? He’s got a knack for seeing where things are headed. He’s bold enough to invest and push game development forward.
After PC games come online games, then mobile games, and eventually cross-screen streaming video games…
Universal Pictures used to have its own gaming division, but after Vivendi swooped in, they restructured everything. The gaming wing got merged with Blizzard to form Vivendi Games, and even Universal Music got split off…
All Dunn wants is to take back what belongs to Universal Pictures—what belongs to Hollywood!
Two weeks later, Dunn Studios wrapped up its internal private placement. Employees snapped up 38.7 million shares, actresses close to Dunn grabbed 7.84 million, and Mel Gibson and Leonardo DiCaprio split the remaining 3.46 million.
That brought Dunn Studios’ shareholder count to 1,635—over 90% of the staff now had a piece of the pie.
Especially for the loyal crew Dunn had pulled up from the bottom, becoming shareholders meant a shot at becoming millionaires down the line.
A leap from the working class to high society in one go!
Thanks to this 50-million-share private placement, Dunn Studios added nearly $500 million to its books.
But that doesn’t mean the stock’s worth just $10 a share!
These are original shares—Dunn’s dipping into his own stash to hook his employees up with a perk.
According to Citibank, the underwriter, Dunn Studios’ current valuation is no less than $13.5 billion!
STA Network tops the list at a whopping $2.2 billion valuation!
Marvel Entertainment and Marvel Studios, riding the superhero movie wave, clocked in at $2 billion.
But that still doesn’t capture Dunn Studios’ true worth!
CFO Brandy Norris came to update Dunn. “Boss, I think we should go public soon. We’ve got a string of equity acquisitions coming up, but buying at our current valuation isn’t in our best interest.”
Dunn shook his head. “The economy right now… let’s wait a few years. Anyway, our next acquisitions will mostly be cash deals.”
For Dolby Laboratories and Pixar, Dunn Studios already agreed to a “cash plus stock” setup.
But those two are small fries.
The real prize this year? Snagging Universal Pictures, Universal Music, and Blizzard Entertainment!
Vivendi’s drowning in debt. Once they swap out their CEO, the first move will be selling assets to pay it off.
And when that happens, they’ll want cash, not shares!
That plays right into Dunn Studios’ hands.
Brandy Norris, who scooped up 2.1 million original shares, is the ninth-largest shareholder at Dunn Studios. For a “newbie” like him to get such a big slice, he’s clearly grateful to Dunn.
He paused before saying slowly, “Initial talks with Dolby are done. They’re asking $450 million, which fits our expectations.”
Dunn’s eyes lit up, pleased. “Good news! What’s the catch—high stock demands?”
Brandy nodded. “Dr. Dolby wants $200 million in cash plus 20 million shares. With Citibank’s $13.5 billion valuation, our stock’s at $15.9 a share. But their terms would drag it down to $12.5.”
Dunn Studios currently has 850 million shares, with Dunn holding 800 million.
Issuing 20 million more to snag Dolby Labs wouldn’t dent his control one bit.
Dunn paced the room, hands behind his back, mulling it over. “We need to lock down Dolby fast—don’t let it slip away. Their price… we can handle it!”
Dolby Labs has a bright future. When it went public in 2005, its market cap shot past $2 billion.
Buying it now? A steal!
Brandy frowned. “But a lower stock price could mess with our Pixar talks.”
Dunn waved it off. “Disney’s putting the squeeze on. Jobs can’t wait—he sees Pixar as a headache. He’s more eager to sell it than we are to buy it!”
Brandy caught on, nodding. “You mean… delay signing with Dolby until we’ve nailed down Pixar?”
Dunn grinned. “Exactly. Keep it hush-hush. Jobs has been having a rough time lately—piracy scandals have Apple under fire. He’ll want Pixar off his plate fast. We need to move quick and wrap this up by the end of the month!”
…
On March 21, 2002, Dunn Studios and Pixar dropped a joint bombshell: Dunn Studios was acquiring Pixar Animation Studios for $1.98 billion!
Since Pixar’s a public company, the details came out.
Dunn Studios shelled out $680 million in cash and issued 80 million new shares to Pixar’s shareholders.
By that math, Dunn Studios’ stock price topped $16.3 a share!
Post-deal, Dunn Studios’ total shares hit 930 million, pushing its valuation past $15.1 billion! (That’s without counting Dolby Labs.)
Pixar’s chairman, Steve Jobs, walked away with $250 million and 48 million shares. Dunn, who already owned 15% of Pixar, nabbed 15 million of the new shares.
Add in the upcoming Dolby deal, and Dunn Studios’ total shares swelled to 950 million. Dunn still held 815 million—85.7% of the pie—making him the undisputed top dog!
The second-largest shareholder? No longer Bill McNick—it’s Steve Jobs now, with 48 million shares from the Pixar deal, a solid 5% of Dunn Studios.
Dunn was in high spirits. Swallowing Pixar and Dolby Labs in quick succession had the whole company buzzing!
But while some cheered, others groaned.
Dunn was thrilled—Disney, not so much.
Michael Eisner couldn’t sit still anymore. He picked up the phone and called Dunn.
Dunn didn’t hold back, chuckling. “Michael, I just wrapped up the Pixar buy, and my phone’s been ringing off the hook with congrats. Didn’t expect you’d be one of them!”
Eisner nearly choked, fuming.
Things had just started looking up for him at Disney, and now Dunn pulls this stunt.
Buying Pixar? That’s cutting Disney off at the knees!
For years, Disney’s animation wing has leaned hard on Pixar.
Everyone at Disney knew Pixar’s value—and now Dunn swooped in and stole it.
With Dunn’s rocky history with Disney, would Pixar still work with them?
Disney’s board gave Eisner an ultimatum: no matter what, keep Pixar in the fold!
Renew the deal!
Extend the contract!
Disney’s stock was already shaky—they couldn’t take another hit.
Eisner had no choice but to call Dunn himself. Hearing Dunn’s jab, he sighed. “Dunn, you win—I’m impressed!”
“Mr. Eisner, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m lost,” Dunn replied breezily, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.
There was a time Dunn wanted to team up with Eisner for real—but he got played.
Chances only come once!
Pleading or promises? Too late!
This time, Dunn’s eyes are on the prize.
A result that works for him!
If they can’t deliver, it’s game over.
Dunn’s done with the fake smiles and backstabbing.
Eisner knew Dunn had him cornered. He sighed again. “Dunn, I get it. This time, I’ll push the board hard to make it happen. I just hope Pixar can stay Disney’s partner…”
“No chance!”
Dunn cut him off cold before he could finish, his tone sharp and final.
