Hollywood Joins

Colt's massive war machine began to operate with unprecedented efficiency.

The technical department organized a team of experts overnight to verify and evaluate those seemingly simple drawings, and the results shocked them.

It has a simple structure and is easy to manufacture, yet it is highly practical and reliable.

The Legal Department and Public Relations Department departments formed a joint team, led by Matt Wallace himself, and began his long and arduous journey of persuading him to take the helm.

His first call was to a vice president at Remington, with whom he had a fairly good personal relationship.

"Matt, did I hear that right? You want us to sign a document agreeing to let Colt represent Sega's voting rights? Do you know what that sounds like? It's like inviting a fox to preside over a chicken coop general meeting."

The voice on the other end of the phone was undisguised mockery.

"Listen, Frank," Matt explained patiently, "this isn't about control, it's just a symbol—"

"Matt, we're both adults, stop talking like that. You and I both know that when everyone accepts you as a symbol, that symbol becomes power."

The call was abruptly ended.

Matt Wallace gripped the microphone, took a deep breath, and then added a heavy question mark next to Remington's name on the list.

He knew this was just the beginning.

Meanwhile, another line was quietly launched.

On a flight from Hartford to Los Angeles, sat a Colt Company executive with a movie synopsis handwritten by Nakayama Takuya in his briefcase.

On the other hand, Hollywood reacted much faster.

As soon as Tom Clancy arrived in Los Angeles, he arranged to have lunch with an old friend from Paramount Pictures at the Musso & Frank Restaurant. "Listen, Bob," Clancy said, cutting his steak without looking up, "I'll tell you a story. A hitman, for a dog, took down an entire mob. No complicated conspiracies, no saving the world, just killing, killing in the most professional and elegant way."

The producer, Bob, scoffed. "Tom, I get stacks of these scripts every week. They're so cliché."

"Really?" Clancy put down his knife and fork, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "What if I told you that the prop sponsors for this movie are Colt, Remington, and Smith & Wesson —all members of the National Rifle Association? They not only provide real guns, but are also willing to provide millions of US dollar in co-promotion fees for this film."

Bob stopped chewing and his eyes slowly widened.

Clancy leaned back in his chair, leisurely watching the fascinating changes in his old friend's expression, and added the last sentence, "What they want is for the movie to make their guns look cool enough. Oh, by the way, the script outline was written by a Japan."

"Clang!"

Bob dropped his silver fork onto the plate with a clatter.

Forgetting his composure, he leaned forward abruptly and whispered, "Tom, say that again?!"

An hour later, Matt Wallace's office phone at Colt Company was bombarded for the first time by numbers from Hollywood.

Warner Bros.., 20th Century Fox, MGM —the sharks of Hollywood —smelled blood, or rather, smelled money.

This is no longer a simple film project.

This is a cultural product endorsed by the military-industrial complex, one of the most powerful interest groups in the United States.

They received not just a script outline, but a direct ticket to the wallets of tens of millions of United States gun enthusiasts.

"Tying guns to a middle-class lifestyle? God, the person who came up with this idea is a devil!"

"Series plans? Starting with a trilogy? Are they trying to create a 007 of the firearms world?"

What did Sony say?

"They just acquired Columbia Pictures and are still digesting it; they can't spare the resources for now."

What about Disney?

"Do you think Mickey Mouse would agree to Donald Duck carrying an M4 with a tactical rail and blowing the enemy's head off? They had a meeting and decided it didn't fit the Disney story style."

Ultimately, Universal Pictures emerged victorious in a closed-door meeting among Hollywood's "Big Seven" studios.

They were missing a hardcore action movie in their film slate this year, and their offer was exactly what Colt Company wanted – a promise to assemble the best production team and a willingness to work closely with gun manufacturers on promotional fronts.

The news caused a stir throughout Hollywood.

The smoke of war had not yet cleared on the East Coast when Nakayama Takuya and James White returned to the sunny Redwood City.

The two walked into the R&D department one after the other. Before they even got close to the Kojima's private area, they heard a series of loud shouts coming from inside.

Takuya and James exchanged a glance, both seeing a smile in each other's eyes.

They rounded the corner, and the sight before them made even James White, a tough guy who was used to Oba, raise an eyebrow.

In the open space of the office area, several programmers were crawling forward on their hands and feet, their postures so clumsy they looked like they were imitating some kind of marine creature.

Meanwhile, their "director," Hideo Kojima, was standing on a chair, gesticulating wildly as he directed everything.

He wore black-rimmed glasses, his hair was messy, but his face radiated an almost manic creative passion.

James White's lips twitched slightly. He turned his head Takuya in a very low voice, "Your company has a very vibrant corporate culture."

Takuya didn't answer, but just smiled and clapped his hands.

The applause wasn't loud, but it successfully drew everyone's attention.

"Nakayama- san!" Hideo Kojima saw Takuya. He quickly got up from the ground and rushed over, his face still beaming with excitement.

"You've come at the perfect time! I was just demonstrating the enemy patrol AI logic in the new level to them! I think data and commands alone aren't enough; developers must personally experience that sense of pressure to create levels that make players feel suffocated!"

Takuya and nodded. "Good job, Hideo. It seems you've completely won them over."

Hideo Kojima scratched his head sheepishly, then puffed out his chest. "We're all people who love games, so it's easy to connect!"

Takuya's gaze passed over him, looking at the group of developers behind him, and then at James White standing beside him with a subtle expression. A brilliant idea took shape in his mind.

He patted Kojima on the shoulder, lowered his voice, and said in a seductive tone, "Hideo, the stealth game is over."

Want to try something more exciting?

"Something even more exciting?" Hideo Kojima's creative radar immediately kicked in.

"I've found you a military advisor," Takuya, pointing to James beside him, "A former Navy SEALs, the kind who's been in combat and killed people."

James White nodded to the Kojima without expression.

Hideo Kojima's eyes lit up, and the way he looked at James was like Columbus discovering a new continent.