John Wick

"A movie that brings out the allure of firearms to its fullest extent." Takuya's eyes gleamed. "The protagonist is no longer a traditional special forces soldier or policeman; he is a retired top assassin. We don't talk about national righteousness; we only talk about the purest personal grudges and the aesthetics of violence." Nakayama Takuya eloquently recounted the plot framework of his previous work, "John Wick."

"We want to create a set of cool and efficient movements for firearms. Every magazine change, every aim, every shot should be as precise, elegant, and deadly as a dance move. We want the audience to see not a chaotic gunfight, but a ballet of firearms."

"In the film, the protagonist's gun becomes an extension of him. We'll use close-up shots to show how he chooses weapons and how he uses our 'tactical rails' to attach various accessories. These guns are no longer cold props, but living, trustworthy partners."

"We can even incorporate the concept of home self-defense," Takuya said with a smirk. "The protagonist's home is a modern fortress. There are hidden gun cabinets in the walls, and an armory behind the bookshelves. We can even collaborate with high-end interior design companies..."

They bundled the concepts of "safety" and "taste" together in their marketing, telling the United States middle class that owning a professional self-defense system, like owning a home theater, was a reflection of a high-quality life.

Tom Clancy's eyes twitched as he listened, and he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "My God—are you selling arms or a lifestyle?"

Matt Wallace listened with shining eyes, as if he could already see countless gun and movie fans waving their money around.

He even recalled Reese's Pieces candies from the movie "E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial" eight years ago.

This plan is so comprehensive and so tempting.

Then Takuya started to bewitch Matt.

"Mr. Wallace, you're not just selling guns, you're selling the United States spirit." Takuya's voice carried a strange, infectious quality.

This made the other two United States in the conference room prick up their ears.

"Think about it, how was this country founded? It was a group of militiamen armed with rudimentary firearms fighting against the most powerful empire in the world at the time: for what? Freedom."

"And then? The Civil War, the emancipation of slaves, all thanks to guns. World War II, your fathers and grandfathers, carrying M1 Garand, saved the world from the iron heel of fascism. Guns are an integral part of this nation's DNA; they represent freedom, responsibility, and protection."

Takuya's words were like a key, unlocking a long-dormant switch in Matt Wallace's mind.

Having lived half his life, he had never heard before that his company carried such Koei and great mission.

"Therefore, what middle-class United States families need is not just a handgun hidden on their bedside table, but a lifestyle." Takuya spoke slowly, but every word struck a chord with Matt. "Men are the pillars of their families, under immense pressure. Going to the shooting range is not only a stress-relieving method in line with United States tradition, but it also helps them maintain their skills and protect their families. On a larger scale, it promotes family harmony and dispels social hostility, and it should be promoted scientifically and respectably!"

Matt was stunned, his mouth slightly agape, his face showing a bewildered expression that said, "How come I didn't know we were so amazing?"

Even Tom Clancy, who was standing to the side, was secretly amazed; it was a waste of this kid's talent not to become a politician.

It took Matt a long time to recover from this elevated sense of sacredness; the businessman's shrewdness regained its footing.

He leaned forward, interlaced his fingers on the table, and stared sharply at Takuya.

"Mr. Nakayama, your plan is very—grand." He chose his words carefully, "However, I've noticed that in this entire grand blueprint, Sega's profits seem to be completely ignored. You've shared the patented standards and helped us plan the movies, what are you after?"

He stared intently into Takuya's eyes, not missing a single emotional fluctuation.

After all, having no desires is often the greatest form of greed.

Takuya met his gaze calmly and smiled slightly, "Sega's request is very simple and small. We only want the exclusive video game adaptation rights to this film series for the next ten years."

"Ten years?" Matt almost instinctively retorted, his voice rising a fraction of an inch. "Too long!"

In the ever-changing entertainment industry, ten years is enough for a company to fall from its peak to its lowest point.

This is tantamount to locking up a potentially priceless gold mine for ten years.

After all, this is a project jointly promoted by numerous firearms companies and Hollywood, so the success rate is naturally high.

"Mr. Wallace, you've misunderstood." Takuya's smile remained unchanged, but his tone carried the stubbornness of a technician. "With current video game technology, it's simply impossible to realistically recreate the shooting feel of the guns we envision. If we rush to finish a project and create a shoddy shooting game, it would not only tarnish Sega's reputation but also cause immense damage to the Colt brand, this film, and the ecosystem we've collectively built."

He shrugged, looking quite helpless.

"We'd rather wait for the technology to mature than pollute the source of this intellectual property with a half-finished product. So, we need ten years to wait for the right opportunity."

These words are reasonable and full of sincerity in "taking responsibility for the project".

But Matt remained unyielding, a businessman's instinct. "Five years at most."

"Five years?" Takuya shook his head, looking troubled. "The technical standards for the next generation of game consoles haven't been finalized yet, and development will take at least three to four years. Once the consoles are released, game development will take another two to three years. In five years, we can only use our existing technology to make do. What's the difference between that and those shooting games on the market that are just about hitting wooden stakes?"

He looked at Matt, seemingly making a difficult decision.

"Alright, let's compromise. Seven years." Takuya held up seven fingers. "We promise that game development for this project must begin within seven years. That's the limit to guarantee game quality; it can't be any shorter. Keep in mind, Sega didn't take a single penny from this entire project."

He passed the buck back to Matt, firmly upholding the banner of "quality assurance" and pointing out Sega's concessions, leaving Matt with no room for rebuttal.

Matt Wallace was calculating rapidly in his mind.

By cutting the term from ten to seven, he managed to turn the tables and give the board of directors a satisfactory explanation.

Although this Japan is cunning, his reasons are indeed plausible.

"Okay, seven years it is." He finally nodded, accepting the adjustment.

Just then, Takuya's brand-new Motorola MicroTAC9800x from his pocket suddenly rang.

Takuya made an apologetic gesture to everyone and answered the phone.

He only said "OK" a few times throughout the entire conversation before hanging up.