The Sunglasses System brought Dunn some seriously awesome perks.
Take Glenn Feyero, for example. Project evaluation? A solid 94. Casting? An insane 97. With those two stats alone, he could wipe the floor with any top Hollywood producer!
But here's the kicker—Production: 0.
Yep, a total dimwit with zero production skills. How does a guy like that even snag a producer or assistant gig in Hollywood?
Dream on, buddy!
Dunn, though? He's different. He could totally appoint Glenn Feyero as a production assistant and just tap into his sky-high project evaluation and casting abilities. Smart move, right?
After spending a whole afternoon on it, Dunn finally put together his dream team:
- **Production Assistants**: Morgan Carey, Glenn Feyero, Erin Kelly
- **Director Assistants**: David Knight, Abel Smith, Andy Thompson
- **Market Analyst**: Andrew O'Hare
- **Art Analyst**: Manola Dagis
- **Screenwriters**: Deacon Whistler, Bryce Roach, Nia Vardalos
- **Cinematography**: Alice Moore, Vincent Bolton
- **Lighting**…
Dunn jotted down a whopping 42 names on that paper.
Of course, this wasn't the full crew—just his core squad. For a big shoot, he'd still need to hire temps to beef up the team to 100 or 200 people. But these 42? They were handpicked by Dunn, and they'd rise to the top of their game alongside him.
He called in George Paxton, handed him the list, and said, "Get in touch with these 42 ASAP. If they're out of town, cover their travel. Send the invite under Dunn Films and my name. Tell them… Dunn Walker's inviting them to Hollywood to make something legendary together!"
…
Dunn's picks were all down-on-their-luck folks from the bottom rung. A chance to work at the now-buzzing Dunn Films and chase their Hollywood dreams? Who'd say no to that?
Three days later, all 42 showed up—not a single no-show!
After a rousing, fired-up speech, they officially joined Dunn Films. Then Dunn pulled his market analyst Andrew O'Hare, art analyst Manola Dagis, and the three screenwriters into his office.
These five? They'd be the heart and soul of his movie-making crew moving forward.
Deacon Whistler's a pro at action, war, and historical stuff. Bryce Roach nails sci-fi, fantasy, and mysteries. Nia Vardalos—she's the lady of the group—rocks family, drama, comedy, and women-focused stories.
With the three writers playing to their strengths and the two analysts catching any slip-ups, they'd crank out a killer script.
Dunn needed a project fast—shoot it, wrap it, and release it next year to go head-to-head with *Blade*. It couldn't cost too much, but it had to hit a huge audience, rake in big box office bucks, and crush *Blade*. Naturally, Dunn's mind went straight to the classic comedy *The Hangover*.
"Here's the deal, short and sweet," Dunn said. "The company needs a movie pronto—shot and ready for next year's release. So we've gotta get a project greenlit and a script rolling ASAP…"
Before he could finish, Bryce Roach cut in. "Boss, if we're in a rush, why write something new? Crafting a hit story from scratch takes, what, two or three months at least?"
"Huh?" Dunn raised an eyebrow. "What're you getting at?"
Bryce grinned. "Use something ready-made! We've all got scripts registered with the Writers Guild."
Dunn blinked, catching on. "Wait—you're saying you've all got scripts registered already?"
"Yup!"
All three writers nodded.
Dunn sighed inwardly. These three were top-tier storytellers, no doubt—but their market sense? Total trash. Could they write a hit without a market analyst steering them?
Dunn wasn't buying it. Still, it was their first meeting, so he didn't want to kill their vibe. "Alright, let's hear it. What scripts have you got?"
Bryce Roach smirked. "I've got a detective script called *The Blackcoat Inspector*…"
"Nope!" Andrew O'Hare jumped in. "This isn't the '50s or '60s anymore. Traditional detective flicks like that? No box office pull these days."
Bryce's face soured, clearly ticked off.
Dunn straightened up. "Andrew's my market analyst—the top authority on film markets here. If he says no, it's a hard no."
Andrew flashed a small, grateful smile Dunn's way. Bryce just grimaced awkwardly and shut up.
Deacon Whistler, with his 99 screenplay skill and a stutter, piped up. "I-I… won't s-say much… H-here's my script."
Dunn took it. The cover read *Bloodstained Echoes*—super intense title!
Everyone except Deacon crowded around as Dunn flipped through the slim 20-something-page version. After half an hour, he let out a long sigh.
Man, what a story!
It's about an American vet—a Gulf War hero. He lost his right leg to a bullet, got praised by Congress, and came home to his small town a hero. The townsfolk threw him a warm welcome. He was their pride!
But… he's got one leg. He's a cripple.
No job wants a blood-stained, kill-count-heavy disabled vet. His kid gets bullied at school, mocked for having a "lame" dad. He tries to hit up an old friend's wedding, but they shut him out—don't want his "bloody vibe" ruining the happy couple's day.
He fought for his country, but now he's drowning in discrimination and cold shoulders. He's broken, bitter, done.
Then the real gut punch—his beloved wife cheats on him.
He snaps. Grabs a shotgun, kills the guy she's with, tries to cover it up—but a neighbor catches him. In a panic, he wipes out the neighbor's whole family. More people find out.
Killing spree!
He tears through the town, and in the end, staring into his kid's heartbroken eyes, he turns the gun on himself…
"Great story," Manola Dagis nodded, clearly impressed. "Tweak a few spots, lean harder into the anti-war angle, sharpen the human reflection—it could snag top prizes at European festivals. Cast the right actor, and you've got an Oscar nom for Best Actor."
Dunn frowned slightly. He didn't need awards right now—he needed ticket sales! His eyes drifted to Andrew O'Hare.
This script? Never made it to the screen in his past life. Market potential? Dunn wasn't sure.
Andrew mulled it over, then shook his head. "Doesn't fit American values. Audiences won't bite on this topic or the messy character turns. Even as a slick action flick, North America's box office would tank. Overseas might do okay, though."
Deacon's face twisted in frustration. "I-I… c-can… r-revise…"
Dunn waved it off. "The theme's the issue—no need to dwell on it. Nia, what about you?"
Nia Vardalos, mid-30s with big, striking eyes, had been a bit-part actress bouncing between gigs. In her spare time, she'd written a script. Now at Dunn Films, with a steady job and decent pay, she was done with the extra-life grind.
"I brought my script too, Dunn. Take a look?"
Bit players are pros at buttering up the boss. Nia slid the script over gently, her chest "accidentally" brushing his arm.
Dunn glanced at her—those dazzling eyes sparkled with something extra.
"Ahem…"
He coughed to cover it up. No flirting with a female subordinate in front of the team! He grabbed the script, and his eyes froze.
*My Big Fat Greek Wedding*!
He looked at Nia's face again—suddenly familiar. No wonder… she's the writer *and* star of *My Big Fat Greek Wedding*! A few years younger here, and way more charming than in the film…
"Huh," Dunn chuckled to himself. "Did my showing up just rewrite her future?"
But why slog it out as a D-list actress? She's better off as my go-to screenwriter!
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