It was Friday midnight.
The judgment day for Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation had quietly arrived.
Leon Donaldson wasn't at home.
He drove to a massive multiplex theater in West Hollywood but didn't get out of the car.
He parked his Ford across the street in an inconspicuous shadow, the window rolled down halfway.
Alice sat in the passenger seat, chewing gum and clutching a PDA, ready to catch the earliest feedback.
The theater entrance was buzzing with excitement.
A long line snaked around the building, packed with young fans wearing T-shirts inspired by the movie. Some even waved toy chainsaws, making buzzing sounds that sparked laughter and photo ops.
A giant poster dominated the scene, its blood-streaked chainsaw glowing under the neon lights, radiating a seductive yet dangerous vibe.
"Looks like a mini rock concert, doesn't it?" Alice said, blowing a bubble.
"Except their drug of choice is blood and fear," she added with a smirk.
Leon didn't respond. He just watched in silence.
The crowd surged forward as staff began checking tickets, the noise hitting a fever pitch before settling into a brief hush.
The real wait was just beginning.
Alice's PDA lit up now and then with snippets from fan forums, scraped by her hacker friends:
"Ten minutes in, and I'm already suffocating…"
"The sound design is tearing my ears apart!"
"The heroine's no pushover! Just like the trailer promised!"
Fragmented first reactions, but the vibe was clear: excitement and shock.
Around 1:30 a.m., the first wave of viewers spilled out.
Leon scanned the crowd. No disappointed or complaining faces.
Instead, he saw flushed, thrilled expressions—young people loudly dissecting the plot with friends, girls clutching their chests, exhilarated yet rattled, and a few guys mimicking movie moves with exaggerated yells.
"It's a hit," Alice said, her eyes glued to the flood of new posts on her PDA. "They're raving about that final counter-kill scene. Totally worth the ticket price."
A faint smile tugged at Leon's lips.
He started the car and pulled away.
The initial alarm was off, but the real data wouldn't come for a few hours.
Back at his apartment, Leon tried to sleep but tossed and turned.
A "Good luck!!!" text from Scarlett in Tokyo still glowed on his phone, followed by a cheering emoji from Anne Hathaway.
At 6 a.m., his phone buzzed, waking him.
It was Eli Roth, his voice booming:
"Midnight show, Leon! You know how much it made?"
"Preliminary numbers… 3.2 million! *3.2 million!*"
"That's top five for horror movie midnight screenings in history!"
In the background, wild cheers and clinking glasses suggested the team had pulled an all-nighter.
The number snapped Leon awake.
$3.2 million. That meant the midnight show alone had nearly covered half the budget and set an explosive tone for the weekend box office.
"The theaters are losing it," Eli roared. "Faxes are pouring in demanding more screenings! Harvey Milk, that old jerk, called me at dawn asking if we need extra prints rushed out!"
"The same guy who almost axed the project!"
Leon listened, his tone calm. "Tell them to hold steady. Focus on screening quality in major markets. Word of mouth is everything."
He hung up, sleep now impossible. Texts flooded in.
Laura Thompson sent a concise congratulation:
Midnight numbers are stunning. Congrats. Board meeting at 9 a.m.
His new agent, Greg, sent a message dripping with dollar signs:
Studios are asking about your availability! Offers are doubling! Leon, we need to talk next steps!
Even Scarlett chimed in from Tokyo, clearly keeping tabs:
Heard the midnight show exploded?! I KNEW IT!! (heart) (chainsaw emoji)
Leon replied to each one…
By 10 a.m., more detailed early data rolled in.
It wasn't just the box office. Metrics like per-screen attendance, CinemaScore ratings, and exit polls all pointed to one word: phenomenal.
Around 11 a.m., another text from Eli, just one word followed by a dozen exclamation points:
INSANE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then a message from a familiar mid-level exec at Fox Searchlight:
Leon, early data shows morning screenings are blowing up. Theaters are reporting lines forming.
Leon's lips curved slightly, but he stayed composed.
He brewed a black coffee and stood by the window.
By noon, the storm intensified.
His phone wouldn't stop—texts gave way to direct calls.
The first was Eli again, his voice roaring over popping champagne corks:
"Leon! Where the hell are you?! The numbers! Midday projections are out! We might break records!"
"B-horror opening records! Theaters are begging for more screenings!"
Leon could hear someone in the background shouting, "Long live the chainsaw!"
He stayed calm. "Specific numbers?"
"Not fully locked yet, but models predict over $8 million for the first day. Maybe even $10 million!"
"Our budget, including marketing, was what—$5 million? One day, and we're nearly in the black with profit!"
Eli's voice cracked with excitement.
After hanging up, Laura Thompson called, her tone cool and sharp:
"Leon, we bet right again," she said. "Marketing's phones are ringing off the hook. It's not just horror fans—regular audiences and even critics are talking about this movie."
"That 'counter-kill' twist you insisted on? It's the biggest talking point. People love seeing the strong get outsmarted by the underdog, even if it's… bloody."
Leon responded lightly.
"Harvey Milk called me personally," Laura added with a hint of amusement. "Wants to have dinner and 'discuss future collaborations.' Guess he forgot he nearly slashed our post-production budget."
Leon chuckled. "Tell him my schedule's packed, especially during Final Destination's shoot. But I'm happy to let my agent 'chat' with him."
"Smart move," Laura laughed. "Keep this momentum, Leon. You're horror's hottest name in Hollywood right now."
The afternoon turned his apartment into a remote command center.
Calls, texts, and emails poured in. Greg reported a flood of collaboration offers and interview requests. Alice relayed real-time fan reactions from Scream Factory forums. Even Kodak's sales manager called to congratulate him and stress their "strong partnership."
Leon handled it all with steady precision.
At dusk, he stepped out and headed to Starlight Video Rental on Hollywood Boulevard.
Carlos, the owner, rushed from behind the counter.
"Leon! My God, you're here!"
He waved a stack of rental pre-orders. "Everyone's asking for Texas Chainsaw Massacre! My phone's blowing up! They can't even wait for the tapes—they're rushing to theaters!"
"Even my Scream copies are getting worn out. People want to revisit your style!"
A few teens picking out discs recognized Leon, their eyes wide with awe.
"Hey! Chainsaw guy!" a kid in a skater shirt yelled. "That movie was freaking awesome! That final counter-kill? I nearly jumped out of my seat!"
Leon just smiled and nodded.
He left the shop and strolled down Hollywood Boulevard.
Neon signs were flickering on, many now showcasing Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation posters—the bloodied chainsaw glaring in the night.
Passing theaters, he saw long lines.
He overheard two girls buzzing with excitement:
"They say it's even crazier than Scream! And the heroine? So badass—not some crying idiot!"
By 10 p.m., final box office data arrived via Fox's internal channels.
The email subject was simple:
Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation – First Day Preliminary Box Office
Leon opened it, his eyes locking on the number:
$10,850,000
One day. Ten million, eight hundred fifty thousand dollars.
For a $5 million B-horror film dismissed by major studios, this was a nuclear-level figure—a number that would stun the industry and rewrite countless careers.
Leon stared at it for a long time.
Then he leaned back in his chair and let out a long, deep breath.
A massive, unprecedented sense of achievement washed over him.
He knew this moment changed everything—his leverage in negotiations, creative control, the industry's respect. It was all skyrocketing.
His phone rang again. Eli, now slurring drunk, shouting:
"We did it! Man, we freaking did it!"
Leon laughed, humored him briefly, and hung up.
He grabbed his phone and texted Scarlett:
First day box office broke $10M. Wanted to share this with you. Your role was a huge success.
Her reply was instant:
OMG! Amazing! My baby!!! I KNEW IT!!!
Anne Hathaway's message followed:
Just wrapped! The whole set's talking Chainsaw! They're calling you a genius! (worship emoji) First-day numbers are insane! Congrats, Mr. Donaldson!!!
Leon smiled and replied:
Thanks, Anne. It's everyone's win. See you on Final Destination's set Monday. Hope we don't disappoint.
He set the phone down, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a whiskey.
The storm was far from over, but for now, he savored the moment.