The Standoff.
After Steve Jobs and John Lasseter disappeared into the theater, Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon, cornered Zane.
Bezos didn't look happy.
"Zane," Bezos said, cutting straight to the chase. "Your people are being unreasonable."
Zane raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink. "Are you saying the negotiations between ICQ and Amazon aren't going well?"
"Not going well?" Bezos scoffed. "That is an understatement. Our lawyers are at each other's throats over every fraction of a percentage point. If this continues, we'll never close the deal."
Bezos leaned in. "Zane, we need to step in personally. You can't avoid this forever."
Zane chuckled, patting the future e-commerce king on the shoulder.
"Jeff, why the rush?" Zane asked calmly. "Let the lawyers fight. That's what we pay them for. If you and I get involved now, things will just get heated. Better to stay friends and let the suits do the dirty work, don't you think?"
Bezos looked like he wanted to argue, but he realized Zane was stonewalling him. Zane held the leverage—the ICQ shares—and he wasn't going to be bullied into a quick deal.
Bezos sighed, shook his head, and walked away. Zane watched him go with a faint smile.
The Industry Parade.
The red carpet was getting crowded. The heavy hitters of Hollywood were arriving.
Jeffrey Katzenberg (DreamWorks founder)
Romero Domivsky (VP of Touchstone Pictures)
Juan Marui (New Line Cinema)
Hugh De Gaulle (Universal)
Zane and his CEO, Victor, greeted them all. But there was one guest Zane treated with extra special care.
Hans Zimmer.
The music director for DreamWorks and a legendary composer. He had already scored The Lion King and Rain Man. In the future, he would define the sound of cinema with Pirates of the Caribbean, Gladiator, and The Dark Knight.
"Hans!" Zane beamed, shaking the composer's hand vigorously. "It is an honor."
Even the studio heads treated Zimmer with reverence. He was royalty. Zane made sure Zimmer felt like the most important person in the room.
But not everyone was there to be friendly.
Jordan, the representative from Paramount, walked up to Zane with a smug look on his face.
"Zane," Jordan said loudly. "You know, Wald Pictures really owes us for this one. Without Paramount's muscle, the theater chains would have squeezed The Purge out of the lineup. We got you those screens."
He was trying to power play. He wanted Zane to feel indebted.
Zane didn't flinch.
"Owe you?" Zane laughed, his eyes cold. "Jordan, you seem to have forgotten the overseas revenue shares I gave up to get that distribution deal."
Jordan froze.
"I paid my protection fee, Jordan," Zane whispered, leaning closer. "We are even. Don't act like you did me a favor for free."
"Uh..." Jordan stammered. He laughed awkwardly to cover his embarrassment and quickly moved along.
The Real Star.
Suddenly, a roar erupted from the street. It sounded like a jet engine taking off.
"Look! It's Eminem!"
The crowd went berserk.
"Eminem! I love you!"
"You're going to win the talent show!"
"Slim Shady!"
Eminem stepped onto the carpet. He wasn't the angry, reclusive star yet. He knew who buttered his bread. He waved to the fans, signed autographs, and smiled for the cameras.
"Thank you!" Eminem shouted to the crowd. "Make sure you support The Purge!"
Zane watched with satisfaction. America's Got Talent had turned this kid into a supernova. And now, that star power was fueling Wald Pictures.
The Premiere.
Inside the Theater, the lights went down.
Zane sat in the VIP row. On his left was Zack Snyder, the director. On his right was Eminem.
"Marshall," Zane whispered to the rapper. "The semi-finals are coming up. Are you ready?"
"I'm ready, Mr. Blackwood," Eminem nodded respectfully. "I'm going to work hard."
Eminem respected Zane. Unlike other record labels that signed young artists to slave contracts and left them to rot, Zane's Golden Dawn Music was fair. High shares, short contracts, and actual promotion.
"I am a businessman," Zane thought to himself. "But I have a conscience. If you treat talent well, they make you more money in the long run."
The screen flickered to life.
THE PURGE.
The opening scene was brutal.
Bam. A baseball bat smashed into a windshield. Bang. Gunshots echoed through a suburban living room. A body was tossed casually next to a trash can.
Smoke billowed. Fire roared. Screams pierced the theater's surround sound system.
Then, the chaos cut to a calm, clinical news broadcast. An "expert" appeared on a TV screen.
"History has proven that humans are fundamentally violent," the expert said soothingly.
"War. Massacre. Murder. We deny our nature. But tonight... we embrace it."
"Every year on March 21st, from 7 PM to 7 AM, all crime is legal. We compress the rage of a nation into one single night. We release the beast to save the man."
"The Annual Purge is a great innovation for a new era."
The voiceover ended, and the theater was dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. The audience was shocked by the sheer darkness of the concept.
In the front row, John Lasseter from Pixar turned around, his eyes wide.
"Zane," Lasseter mouthed. "This is terrifying."
Zane and Zack Snyder exchanged a look in the darkness. They both grinned.
They had them.
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