belamy20
patreon
406-410
🕑 Added 2025-08-03 13:02:14 +0000 UTCChapter 406: Band of Brothers, Premiere!
The TARZ TV channel briefly went dark, with only the station logo in the corner indicating the signal was still live.
It felt just like the moments before a movie starts.
Then, a few gray-haired elderly men appeared on screen, sitting in front of the camera, reminiscing about the past. From their words, it was clear they were World War II veterans—elite paratroopers who’d made their mark in Europe.
“I was sitting in a shop when this guy walked in and told us to enlist. I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ He said, ‘Pearl Harbor’s been hit. America’s in the war.’ We couldn’t believe it—our country, attacked?”
“Our nation got hit, and this wasn’t like Korea or Vietnam. We were attacked! You get it—that feeling… Maybe we were just simple country folks, but back then, we all volunteered to serve and defend our country.”
“‘Who wants to join the tank corps?’ ‘Who’s up for the air force?’ ‘Who’s in for the navy?’ Then they asked, ‘Who wants to join the airborne division?’ God, what’s airborne? We’d never even heard of it.”
“I came from a tiny little town. Three guys there killed themselves after failing the physical—just because they couldn’t enlist. It was a different time, really.”
“We didn’t do this for medals or glory. We did it because it was our duty…”
Five short, straightforward snippets of dialogue instantly painted a vivid picture of the tension, passion, and patriotism of that era, setting a serious tone in the room.
Dunn pulled his hand back from under Mila Jovovich’s skirt, already swept up by those brief 90 seconds.
Maybe that’s the magic of film language—raw and powerful.
Little Taylor, though, clearly wasn’t old enough to get all sentimental about history. She pouted and muttered, “A bunch of dummies—didn’t even know they got blindsided by the Japanese!”
Dunn snapped, “What are you going on about?”
“It’s true!” she huffed. “I watched Pearl Harbor. We got crushed by the Japanese!”
Dunn frowned, then sighed and put an arm around her shoulders. “You’re still young. When you grow up, you’ll get it. Being a hero isn’t about winning or losing—it’s about the courage to step up and give everything.”
Little Taylor rested her head on Dunn’s shoulder and mumbled a soft “Oh,” half understanding.
At that moment, the TV flashed the “TARZ Premiere” logo. The next frame showed the credits: a joint production by Dunn Films, DreamWorks, and Preston Studios.
A slow, soulful background melody began, carrying a haunting, weathered vibe.
It was the Band of Brothers theme song—“Requiem for a Soldier.”
Amid scenes of smoke and war, the song felt timeless—no blaring electronic beats or thundering drums. Paired with shots of fighter planes, artillery, and troops, it brought out the era’s weight and tragic heroism.
One shot stood out: paratroopers drifting through the sky, parachutes blooming against the blue, scattered high and low. The visual contrast hit hard.
Mila Jovovich gasped, “This kind of footage—what’s the difference between this and a movie?”
Dunn shook his head. “Don’t judge Band of Brothers by old TV standards.”
In his past life, he’d seen the show and thought it was just intense. But in this life, in this country, this setting, this mood, he could really feel the brilliance in its details.
The 2.5-minute opening hooked every girl in the living room.
Well, except Little Taylor. Snuggled in Dunn’s arms, her long lashes fluttered—she was clearly drowsy, barely keeping her eyes open.
Then Dunn’s phone buzzed.
Probably not wanting to interrupt his viewing, it was a text. Simple: “Viewer households just broke 12.5 million!”
The message didn’t specify how many were paid subscribers versus those using the one-month free trial.
Still, TA Network’s total subscriber base was just over 10 million. This number meant Band of Brothers was pulling in way more households than expected.
Dunn didn’t dwell on it and turned back to the show.
To capture the depth of history and the bleakness of war, the screen’s saturation was dialed down.
And that was Band of Brothers. The story officially began…
First, a series of quick shots showed the state of military camps on the European front.
Then the focus shifted to Georgia, deep in the American heartland.
A group of young guys from all over volunteered to train as the army’s newest unit—paratroopers—forming Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division.
Under the strict command of Captain Sobel, they went from clueless civilians to the elite of the U.S. military.
This was 1942.
On September 6, 1943, Easy Company shipped out from Brooklyn Army Terminal to Aldbourne, England, for training, inching closer to the war, ready to support the front lines.
During training, the soldiers lost faith in Sobel’s shaky leadership. Tension brewed between the beloved young officer Lieutenant Winters and the widely disliked Sobel.
After a mutiny by Easy Company’s NCOs protesting Sobel’s sidelining of Winters, Sobel was reassigned to a training base in the rear. The company finally shook him off and welcomed a new commander…
Visually, you’d never guess this was a miniseries, not a movie. But the pacing gave it away.
It was TV, after all. The story unfolded slower than a film. The first episode ended without even hitting the battlefield—definitely not movie tempo.
Back in the day, Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan kicked off with the brutal Normandy landing to grab viewers right away, igniting the war vibe.
But Band of Brothers took a ground-level view, showing the daily grind of training through the soldiers’ eyes—a fresh angle never seen before.
Episode one was just the setup, laying the groundwork. Under the first sergeant’s lead, Easy’s recruits grew up fast. A company commander needed more than grit—military skill mattered too. Sobel flunked the test and was out.
The preview for episode two, though? Normandy landing—now that’s something to look forward to!
When Band of Brothers wrapped up, the living room was dead quiet. Dunn glanced down and saw Little Taylor fast asleep across his lap.
He was about to carry her to bed when Chris Albrecht called right on cue with good news. “Boss, the numbers are in! Episode one premiere averaged over 12.8 million viewers, peaking at over 14 million households watching at once!”
For free broadcast networks, 10-20 million viewers per show was standard. Hit series often topped 20 million—like Friends, which once pulled a legendary 30 million viewers at once!
But TA was a premium cable network with just over 10 million subscribers.
Compare that to NBC, CBS, ABC, or FOX—free broadcast nets reaching 110 million U.S. households.
Even Friends only hit a 30% viewership rate. Band of Brothers? 128%. At its peak, over 140%!
No comparison.
Dunn was pleased. The peak of 14 million didn’t quite match HBO’s 15 million from his past life, but it was close enough. Band of Brothers was a powerhouse.
“Great job today, Chris. You’ve worked hard!”
Dunn tossed out a few encouraging words, hung up, and noticed Little Taylor stirring awake, groggy. She clung to his neck, pouting, “Dunn, I wanna sleep with you tonight.”
His heart skipped. “Don’t be silly. You’re a big girl now—how can you sleep with me?”
“No way! I wanna sleep with you!” She rubbed her eyes, cheeks puffed out, looking ready to argue.
“No chance!”
Dunn shot her down flat.
He’d finally gotten all these gorgeous girls together tonight—no way was a little kid ruining it.
Little Taylor huffed, “Then who are you sleeping with?”
Silence dropped like a bomb.
The other girls in the room froze, their expressions shifting, eyes flicking to Dunn with curiosity.
Penelope Cruz stepped over with a warm smile and cooed at Taylor, “Sweetie, how about I sleep with you instead?”
“No way, no way!” Taylor’s head shook like a rattle, her gem-bright eyes locked on Dunn. “I’m sleeping with you. If you say no, I’ll call Natalie and tell her to come back and keep me company!”
The girls exchanged looks, barely holding in laughter.
This kid—how did she know so much?
If Natalie came back and saw this scene, it’d be chaos.
Dunn’s head throbbed. “Fine, fine, you little brat!”
Taylor giggled, swaying smugly.
Dunn grumbled inwardly, This little punk—I can’t handle her? Once she’s out cold, the night’s mine to enjoy.
That night, Dunn darted between bedrooms.
Quite the party!
“Ah!”
Angela Lindvall was mid-moan under Dunn when Karolina Kurkova, kneeling nearby and tending to him, let out a yelp.
“What’s wrong?”
Dunn jumped, following her gaze to the door—and froze, chills running down his spine.
Taylor Swift stood there, hands on hips, cheeks puffed, glaring with gritted teeth…
Chapter 407: A New Definition of War Films
Typically, Hollywood movies grab more attention from entertainment news than TV shows ever do. Even a mega-hit like Friends couldn’t hold a candle to the media coverage movies got during its run. Movies are the beating heart of the entertainment industry! Even TV stations see way higher ratings when they air films compared to regular series.
But Band of Brothers? That’s a whole different beast.
USA Today: “No one in the past could’ve imagined Hollywood heavyweights like Steven Spielberg, Dunn Walker, and Tom Hanks stepping into the TV game. No one could’ve pictured someone pouring the budget of a blockbuster special-effects movie into a series either. Yet here we are—Band of Brothers is happening, and I’m witnessing it!”
Entertainment Weekly: “The TV market used to be all about romance, crime, legal dramas, and medical shows—the four big players. Without a doubt, Band of Brothers has cracked open a brand-new world for these grand, sweeping epics!”
AV Club: “From Saving Private Ryan to Pearl Harbor and now Band of Brothers, war dramas have a new definition. Realistic filming, an unflinching refusal to glorify war, and a spirit that honors heroes while rooting itself in anti-war sentiment—that’s the right way to do it. Facing history starts with respecting it, and Band of Brothers gets that attitude just right.”
Even the super-authoritative New York Times chimed in with unusually bold praise for the miniseries: “There’ll never be another show that defines war drama better than Band of Brothers. No question about it—this series has rewritten the grammar of war stories and is destined to become a milestone in American TV history.”
Even Film Review, a magazine that usually sticks to movies and prides itself on its niche focus, dedicated heaps of space to breaking down the first episode of Band of Brothers:
“Band of Brothers follows Company E of the 101st Airborne Division—140 soldiers in total. With 10 one-hour episodes, figuring out how to divvy up screen time and balance the big picture with the small details was no easy task. Thankfully, the production team nailed it. Starting each episode with interviews of the real-life counterparts pulls you right in, and the flashbacks feel totally natural.”
“The first episode introduces us to Easy Company and its most unique figure: Captain Sobel, the first officer to leave the unit. Sobel’s brutal training style laid a solid foundation for the company’s future, but his incompetence in combat and questionable character made him wildly unpopular, eventually getting him transferred out.”
“The show handles this character with a classic ‘build him up, then knock him down’ approach. At first, his drill-sergeant-from-hell vibes and strict rules make you think he’s a tough-but-effective leader. Then, in combat drills, his flaws pile up—ineptitude, sidelining his men—and it all comes crashing down. The final close-up of his reluctant goodbye to the company rounds him out perfectly.”
“A two-sided character like that keeps the predictable basic-training setup from feeling stale. And speaking of predictable, the first episode throws a ton of soldiers at you right away. Besides Sobel, Lieutenant Winters, and a few familiar faces, it’s tough to keep track of everyone at first.”
“Of course, there are plenty of close-ups, but the cuts are lightning-fast. The first episode’s job is to set the stage for the battlefield scenes to come, and it does that brilliantly. The last 10 minutes—the pre-battle wait—are an absolute standout.”
“Lieutenant Winters pulling each man up into the plane, the British troops seeing them off, and the silhouette of planes filling the sky at sunset—it ties Easy Company’s fate to the massive backdrop of World War II’s first big airborne drop. The emotion hits just right, kicking off the epic Normandy landing and the European theater in style!”
On September 10th, Band of Brothers stormed entertainment media, becoming the day’s biggest cultural moment.
Dunn skimmed a few key reports but didn’t react much. It was Monday, and he had to get little Taylor home early—she still had school.
On the drive, Dunn kept a stern face, scolding her firmly: “How many times have I told you not to barge into other people’s rooms? Why can’t you remember that?”
Taylor mumbled, “I didn’t even see anything.”
“You—!” Dunn sputtered, exasperated. “Talk back again, and I’ll tell your mom—no allowance for three weeks!”
“That’s not fair!”
Taylor’s eyes instantly welled up.
Dunn pressed on: “I’m the adult, you’re the kid—you listen to me. That’s the fairest thing there is! Were you wrong about last night or not?”
“I was wrong,” she muttered, her lips pursed, her little nose sniffling.
“Louder!”
“I was wrong! I was wrong! Is that good enough?” Tears streamed down her face as she burst into loud sobs.
Dunn felt a pang of guilt but steeled himself. “Are you gonna do it again?”
“No!”
Her small, shaky voice and pitiful expression could melt anyone’s heart.
After dropping her off at home, Andrea spotted the tear stains on her cheeks and knew she’d messed up. Her face darkened as she started in: “What happened? Didn’t we agree you’d behave?”
Taylor let out a loud “Waaah!” and wailed, “You’re all mean! You’re ganging up on me!”
Dunn’s heart twisted. He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “Alright, alright, it’s over. Let’s drop it, okay?”
Andrea looked unsure.
Dunn didn’t hide anything, explaining quickly: “Last night, when I was in my room with a friend, she barged in without knocking.”
“What?!” Andrea’s jaw dropped.
Manners were one thing, but walking in on something not meant for kids’ eyes? That was another.
Dunn rubbed his nose and clarified, “It wasn’t a big deal—just a manners thing.”
Andrea let out a relieved breath.
Dunn patted Taylor’s back, feeling he’d been too harsh. Softening his tone, he coaxed, “Come on, no more crying. What gift do you want? I’ll get it for you, okay?”
“No!” Taylor sniffled, still sobbing hard.
“Then how about this: I’ll take you out this weekend. Where do you wanna go?”
Her crying stopped instantly. Those misty eyes lit up like a rainbow. “Really?”
“Really!”
“No lying?”
“No lying!”
“I wanna go to Disneyland! You’ve never taken me!”
Dunn’s face froze.
Disneyland.
With his entourage of bodyguards, a trip like that would definitely draw attention. And his relationship with Disney… well, that was tricky.
Andrea caught his hesitation and frowned. “Sweetie, maybe that’s not the best idea.”
“Nooo, I wanna go to Disneyland!”
“Alright, alright, Disneyland it is.” Dunn reached out, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You cheer up, stop crying, and this weekend, I’ll take you!”
“Yay!”
Taylor threw her arms up, jumping with glee.
Andrea watched Dunn spoil her, feeling a mix of joy and wistfulness. Every family has its struggles. Her husband—Taylor’s dad, Scott Swift—worked in New York, living apart from them. The distance had already sparked plenty of fights.
Manhattan’s Wall Street scene—rotten, dirty, ugly, all about money—sex, drugs, gambling, violence, jerks—it had it all. Could a mature, wealthy guy like Scott Swift handle the loneliness?
Sigh.
Andrea sighed inwardly, unsure if moving to LA was the right call for their family. On the plus side, their life had improved—Taylor went to a top private school, studied music with the best, and had Dunn Walker as a “good friend.” On the downside, the cracks in their family were starting to show.
It was September 10th.
Back at the office, Dunn got detailed reports from Comcast and faxed updates.
The TV network currently had 10.72 million paying subscribers. Last night’s premiere of Band of Brothers averaged 12.86 million viewers, peaking at over 14.38 million households! Plus, 6.5 million households tried out R Network’s free first-month trial last night.
If Band of Brothers could hook those viewers, the subscriber count could jump by millions in the next week! Comcast predicted a whopping 5 million new subscribers thanks to the premiere’s huge buzz. R Network’s estimate was more cautious—between 4.2 and 4.5 million.
Comcast even boldly claimed that starting September 9, 2001, premium cable TV would step into the mainstream spotlight and never look back.
Everything looked rosy.
But Dunn knew this rosy picture would soon pop like a bubble. Premium cable would rise, sure, but not this easily.
Tomorrow, the “9/11 attacks” would hit. The whole country would plunge into unprecedented panic and shock—who’d be thinking about TV subscriptions then? Most entertainment would grind to a halt.
Episode two of Band of Brothers, with its intense Normandy landing and brutal explosions, couldn’t air this weekend—it’d be like rubbing salt in America’s wounds. It’d have to wait a week.
For now, subscriber growth would stall.
Good thing Band of Brothers had 10 episodes to air over two months—plenty of time to recover.
Chapter 408: The Running Man
Scott Swift’s talks with Apple’s board went off without a hitch.
The board gave the green light for Dunn Capital to buy up to 30 million more Apple shares on the secondary market over the next six months.
Pretty standard stuff.
Usually, when a big shareholder wants to sell off stock, the board steps in with some gentle persuasion—or outright resistance. But buying more? As long as it doesn’t cross the 50% threshold to take control and shake up the board’s power, they’re all for it.
More shares mean a rising stock price, which is great news for shareholders and the board alike.
Plus, Dunn’s never pushed for extra independent directors or tried to plant his own people. It’s a win-win—they’d be crazy to say no.
If Dunn Capital hits that 30-million-share goal, their stake in Apple will climb past 16.5%. No doubt about it—that’s a fortune big enough to rival nations down the road.
But Dunn wasn’t exactly beaming over the good news.
Because today was September 11.
At 8 a.m., Dunn showed up at his office on time, the mood a little heavy.
If things went as expected, earth-shattering news would hit any minute.
That flight headed for LA took off from Boston at 8 a.m. Fifteen minutes later, it’d be hijacked. Another fifteen, and it’d be out of control. Fifteen more, and it’d appear over Manhattan, slamming into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
Tragedy was looming, and Dunn couldn’t sit still in his office.
His assistant, Isla Fisher, figured he was stressed about the movie Chicago. She grinned, “Kirk Douglas can kick up all the fuss he wants—Catherine Zeta-Jones already signed the contract. We’re starting next week.”
Dunn cracked a smile. “Oh, right—Gone Girl… How much are we at with the royalties?”
“Split fifty-fifty, all wired to your account,” Isla said with a playful wink.
Dunn replied, “You know I don’t touch my personal accounts. Everything goes through Dunn Capital—it’s a trust fund.”
Isla smirked, “Got it. You big shots and your trust funds. The royalties are over $21 million now—half for you, half for me!”
“That much?”
Dunn’s eyes widened.
Isla beamed, “Yup! It’s sold 2.8 million copies in North America—right up there with the Harry Potter series. And it’s rolling out overseas too. The UK numbers are looking awesome!”
Dunn gave her a teasing look. “Didn’t peg you for a little millionaire. You’re not gonna pull a Reese and quit on me, are you?”
“Reese got a gig at Rose Pictures. What do I have? Writing a book was all thanks to you. If I quit, what’d I even do?” Isla shot back with a cheeky grin.
Dunn nodded. “Books like this have a short shelf life. Tell you what—get on the phone with Rose Pictures right now. Tell Kathryn Kennedy and Reese to start prepping this project.”
“Gone Girl?”
“Of course.”
“Whoa!” Isla practically bounced. “My book’s gonna be a movie!”
Dunn shook his head with a chuckle.
Gone Girl was a bestseller, sure, but nearly 3 million copies in North America? That was mostly because “Dunn Walker” was on the cover.
Crime and suspense novels usually have a niche audience—not Harry Potter territory.
Better strike while the iron’s hot and get the movie rolling.
A film and book boosting each other—everyone’s happy.
Isla skipped off to handle it, and Dunn checked the time—8:40 a.m.
Even all the way in LA, his heart was racing.
In his past life, living in mainland China, 9/11 felt… distant. People brushed it off, cracked jokes, didn’t grasp the horror or the global tension it unleashed.
It wasn’t until he’d lived in the U.S. for a few years that it sank in.
Compare it to Pearl Harbor, and it all clicks.
9/11 killed more people than Pearl Harbor did.
The economic fallout was even worse. Manhattan’s a global financial hub—this hit every major economy hard, with losses topping $1 trillion.
Dunn’s feelings were tangled. He hoped fewer people would die, but he also wanted to cash in…
Just then, Isla popped back in, big eyes sparkling, grinning wide. “Boss, you’ve got a visitor!”
No appointment, just showing up—had to be a close friend or someone big.
Sure enough, in walked a familiar, punchable face—Leonardo DiCaprio.
“Movie post-production all wrapped up?” Dunn asked, knowing Leo had been vacationing in New Zealand before heading back to LA for Gangs of New York dubbing.
“Piece of cake,” Leo said with an eye roll and a scoff, acting like it was nothing. He and Dunn were tight—best buds. He plopped down, legs crossed, slouching like some street punk.
Dunn didn’t mind, pouring him a coffee himself. “What brings you running over here?”
Leo grinned slyly. “Yesterday, I swung by Steven’s set and saw Natalie. Man, she’s getting wrecked—looks like a total monster…”
“Leonardo!”
Dunn glared, teeth clenched.
“Alright, alright, forget her. Steven’s got a new project. I chatted with him about it…”
“Hold up!” Dunn cut in, frowning. “Spielberg’s got a new gig? Minority Report isn’t even done yet, is it?”
“Nope,” Leo shrugged. “Maybe DreamWorks is hurting so bad they’re banking on his films to pull in cash.”
That jogged Dunn’s memory. Between 2000 and 2002, Steven Spielberg earned the nickname “Running Man” in Hollywood. In under 18 months, he cranked out three movies!
A.I., Minority Report, and Catch Me If You Can!
That explained why he’d risked ticking Dunn off to jack up the North American rights for Band of Brothers.
DreamWorks needed the money—or it was toast.
“New project… not with Tom Hanks, is it?”
“Huh? He told you?” Leo perked up. “Yup, it’s locked in. We’re heading back to prep. I’m lead, Hanks is supporting. Heh!” He smirked, leg bouncing smugly.
“You came all the way here just to brag?” Dunn jabbed. “Fair enough—Daniel Day-Lewis just acted with you, and now Tom Hanks is playing second fiddle. You’re on a roll!”
Leo leaned back, soaking it in. “Exactly. So, to keep the momentum going, I’m throwing a huge party at my place. Tons of girls—you in? Oh, and I saw Colin on the Minority Report set. He’s down too.”
“Colin Farrell?”
“Yup!”
Dunn smirked.
Birds of a feather—Leo the carefree playboy, Colin the wild child. Perfect match.
Dunn had just hosted a big bash at his place two days ago and was still recharging. He shut it down without a second thought. “Cut the nonsense! Farrell’s in the middle of shooting—his career’s just taking off. Don’t drag him down with you!”
“It’s fine, he’s cool with it.”
“Of course he is—he’s a notorious troublemaker!” Dunn waved him off firmly. “No party. Don’t mess up his shot! And you—if you’re dating Gisele, focus on her!”
Leo stared, dumbfounded. “You’re lecturing me?”
Dunn’s face flushed. “What’s that supposed—”
Before he could finish, the office door flew open.
Isla rushed in, breathless. “Dunn, something’s happened—the World Trade Center’s been hit!”
Dunn froze, then barked, “Let’s go—TV!”
Leo, still casual, quipped, “This’ll be a mess. Airline screws up like that? Insurance won’t even cover it!”
Dunn shot him a look.
This guy still thought it was a pilot error?
There was no TV in Dunn’s office, so the three of them bolted to Bill Mechanic’s office. Sure enough, he was glued to CNN’s live feed.
The footage showed the North Tower of the Twin Towers engulfed in flames and thick black smoke.
Chaos on the ground—shouts and noise everywhere.
“This is insane. How does an accident this bad even happen? New York’s mayor might have to resign over this!” Bill Mechanic growled, clearly thinking it was a fluke too.
Leo, seeing the brutal scene, dropped his cocky grin and sucked in a breath. “How… how does this even happen?”
Dunn stood silently in front of the TV, eyes locked on the screen, barely breathing.
9/11 had arrived.
Chapter 409: The 9/11 Incident
United Airlines Flight 175
On the plane, things were clearly spiraling out of control. The cabin was a mess, and the flight attendants were doing their best to keep order.
“Please trust us! Please believe we can handle this! Please trust us!” one shouted, trying to calm everyone down.
Another attendant, a Black woman, grabbed a megaphone and yelled hoarsely, “Everyone, stay quiet, stay calm! We’ve reached the control tower, and the operations center has responded. Don’t worry—we’ve got this under control!”
It’s basic flight safety 101: if something goes wrong, don’t panic. Trust the pros. Chaos means certain death for everyone, but handing the problem to experts might just give them a slim chance.
There wasn’t a full-blown riot, but the cries of women and kids echoed through the cabin. People were pulling out their phones, trying to call loved ones for what might be their final words. Too bad the lines were jammed—most couldn’t get through.
A young guy named Pete was one of the lucky ones. He got his dad on the line.
“Dad, I love you! I love Mom, I love our family!”
“I don’t know, I don’t know… They’re saying the hijackers stabbed both pilots and hurt a crew member. They’ve taken over the plane!”
“No, it’s not chaos! They must’ve trained to fly this thing, but… the direction’s all wrong…”
“The Statue of Liberty… Oh God, that’s New York. They’re heading for New York…”
This was a flight bound for LA—New York was definitely not the plan.
The signal cut out. Pete tried again and, somehow, got through. This time, his voice was completely different, cracking with tears as the passengers’ panic swept him up. “Dad, I’m done for! I’m done!”
“It’s bad up here—really bad!”
“God, the plane’s shaking—it’s unstable…”
“It’s going down, and this isn’t the airport!”
“God! I love you! Dad, I love you!”
At 9:03 a.m., United Airlines Flight 175 slammed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.
American Airlines Flight 77
The hijackers, armed with knives and tear gas, had taken control. They’d cleared out first class and herded all the passengers to the back of the plane. Unarmed and defenseless, the passengers had no way to fight back.
Their phones were their only lifeline to the outside world. With limited lines, they had to prioritize the most useful calls.
“I’ll do it,” a woman in her fifties said, stepping up decisively. “I’m Barbara Olson. My husband’s Ted Olson, deputy attorney general at the U.S. Justice Department. If there’s a chance, I can get help through him.”
Even in this dire moment, she stayed calm, spoke clearly, and sounded credible—no one doubted her.
She quickly dialed her husband. “Honey, I’ll keep it short. The plane’s been hijacked! There are six of them—brown skin, red bandanas, and weapons!”
“No guns, at least none I’ve seen, but they’ve got knives and box cutters!”
“The pilot? He’s dead. The crew’s trying to reach the tower on the emergency line, but it’s tough.”
“This isn’t the way to LA. Maybe… we’re heading back to Washington. Yeah, someone here who knows this stuff says we’re turning back!”
“What do we do now?”
What could they do? At 10,000 feet, even a deputy AG—or the president himself—couldn’t do a thing.
The plane had lost contact with the ground 20 minutes ago.
At 9:29 a.m., autopilot was disengaged, and it switched to manual flight—target: the Pentagon.
At 9:34 a.m., it banked sharply and began to dive.
At 9:37 a.m., with a deafening crash, American Airlines Flight 77 hit the Pentagon.
United Airlines Flight 93
Thankfully, this San Francisco-bound flight was delayed by 25 minutes. After takeoff, the pilot got word that two hijacked planes had struck the World Trade Center.
When the hijackers attacked, the pilot and co-pilot fought back with everything they had. The flight attendants, braced for the worst, shared the urgent news with the passengers.
“The pilot’s dead! The Trade Center’s been hit—we can’t just sit here and die!”
They didn’t say it outright, but some tech-savvy passengers had already pieced it together from their phones.
The boldest among them sprang into action, rushing to the emergency phone and shouting to everyone, “All of you—charge the front! Fight them! Hesitating now is a death sentence!”
The hijackers caught wind of the commotion and barked threats over the intercom: “We’ve taken the plane! We have a bomb, and we’re heading back to the airport! Sit down, or we all die!”
The cabin erupted—banging, crashing, yelling, the sound of shattering glass and plates. Total chaos.
But in a crisis like this, heroes rise. “Get into the cockpit—fight them! We’re dead otherwise!”
“No time to think—I’m going in!”
“Charge!”
A woman jumped up, yelling, “Everyone, together—go!”
Then came the latest update: “The Pentagon’s been hit! They’re aiming for the White House! Fight—fight those bastards!”
The whole plane surged with battle-ready energy. Nearly every man stood up, grabbing anything they could use as a weapon—trays, belts, backpacks, shoes, metal chopsticks—and stormed toward the cockpit.
Five minutes later, chaos broke out in the flight deck.
The plane lost control.
Thanks to the passengers’ brave counterattack, it didn’t reach its intended target in Washington. Instead, it veered off, broke apart, and crashed into a rural field.
Four planes hijacked in a single day.
The entire United States was thrown into disarray.
Dunn sat quietly in his office, his gaze heavy.
Even here in Hollywood, far from New York, the atmosphere at Dunn Films was thick with fear and dread.
“Dunn, NASDAQ and the NYSE just shut down—emergency closure! Futures, bonds, forex—everything’s stopped!”
Scott Swift sounded almost relieved. He’d come back to LA to talk business with Apple. If he’d stayed in New York, he might’ve been at ground zero.
The World Trade Center was the heart of global finance. This double-tower strike would likely claim hundreds of CEOs and VPs in the financial world.
But Scott Swift, a hardened Wall Street veteran, had a tough skin. Even in a national tragedy, his mind was on money.
Dunn took the call, shaking his head.
Now that it had actually happened, he felt lost, his emotions a tangled mess. But Scott’s tone… was that a hint of excitement creeping in?
Oh, right—he’d made a profit!
Of course!
The markets were frozen, and the government was scrambling to respond. But so what?
When trading resumed, who could stop the freefall?
The NYSE had only closed twice in history: once in 1914 when World War I broke out, and again in 1933 during the Great Depression.
In a disaster this big, even government bailouts and the Fed cranking up the money printer wouldn’t save the day.
“Yeah, keep it low-key. Grief’s the vibe right now,” Dunn said, taking a deep breath, his voice steady.
On the other end, Scott Swift—brimming with energy—couldn’t hold back a loud laugh.
Chapter 410: The Essence of Wall Street
The moment the “9/11 attacks” hit, the Bush administration sprang into action with a flurry of emergency measures.
Politically, they set aside differences, united both parties, and rallied to face the national crisis together.
Domestically, they grounded all flights—international ones rerouted through Canada—and requested a massive aid package from Congress for the airlines.
On security, they launched a sweeping investigation into every suspicious person who’d entered the country recently, beefing up law enforcement and public safety presence.
Economically, they halted trading on the stock, bond, currency, and futures markets, giving the Treasury and the Fed time to figure things out.
Diplomatically, they pitched a proposal to NATO, invoking Article 5 of the alliance treaty: if any nation orchestrated this attack, it’d be treated as a military strike on the U.S.—and on every NATO member.
Militarily, the Commander-in-Chief asked the House for permission to launch a counterstrike…
By September 13, the Secretary of State held a press conference, pinning Al-Qaeda’s Osama bin Laden as the prime suspect.
On September 14, the House voted overwhelmingly to greenlight retaliation, authorizing President Bush to strike terrorists at his discretion.
The Republicans and Democrats might bicker over ideology, and Congress often stalls with the opposition just saying “no” for the sake of it—efficiency be damned.
But the U.S. is run by elites. They’ll squabble over small stuff, sure. When it’s a make-or-break moment for the nation, though, the parties snap into line, turbocharging government action.
And just like that, Bush’s Republican administration morphed into a “quasi-wartime government.” They handled the crisis like pros—quick, decisive moves that fired up patriotic fervor.
For the past year, the media had ripped into Bush’s aggressive policies. Now? Overnight, the tone flipped.
TV shows and news reports gushed over the selflessness and patriotism of government officials, civil servants, cops, and soldiers. On the home front and abroad, in this “new war,” American public opinion was practically unanimous.
The New York Times and CBS ran a huge poll—over 90% of Americans backed a retaliatory strike on Al-Qaeda!
The Washington Post laid out the war’s justification on its front page: “Under UN law, a sovereign nation can only attack another if the Security Council approves—like Korea, Vietnam, or the Gulf War. Otherwise, it’s an illegal invasion.”
“When a nation’s hit by a military attack, it can fight back to defend itself without UN approval—think South Korea, South Vietnam, Kuwait.”
“9/11 was a premeditated military move by Al-Qaeda, targeting America’s economic hub, the World Trade Center, and its military core, the Pentagon. It’s the second attack on U.S. soil since Pearl Harbor. We don’t need the UN—this is our sovereign counterstrike!”
The New York Post went big, detailing Al-Qaeda’s evil: the 1993 World Trade Center car bombing, the 1996 Khobar Towers attack, the 1998 embassy bombings, the 2000 USS Cole explosion…
It even threw in snippets about extremist rule in Afghanistan: women banned from working—or shot; women outside without a covered face—shot; watching banned videos—shot; girls over eight going to school—parents shot…
East or West, ancient or modern, the playbook for starting a war never changes.
Step one: unleash the media to paint the enemy as evil and us as righteous. Step two: rally the public, stoke their anger, win overwhelming support. Step three: secure the war budget and roll out the tanks!
Right now, the U.S. was a pressure cooker. Beyond coverage of victims’ families and rescue efforts, the media was all war drums—“Whoever dares harm mighty America will pay, no matter how far they hide!”
The smoke wasn’t visible yet, but the stench of war was thick.
In just days, the Bush administration had locked in public support and bipartisan approval. All that was left was step three—pass the debt, fund the war, and let it rip!
Wouldn’t take long.
Dunn couldn’t care less about military stuff or the war itself. His eyes were on the stock market—when would it reopen?
Before that, his big worry was raking in too much cash from 9/11 and catching flak from jealous media outlets playing the morality card.
Now, it didn’t seem like a problem.
Every outlet was laser-focused on the attacks and the coming war. Even the gossip rags had gone quiet.
A wave of feel-good vibes had swept American media!
Negative stories? Practically extinct.
This was perfect!
All flights were grounded, but private planes were fine. Scott Swift had already jetted back to New York to run the show.
Compared to the dot-com bust, this short-selling spree was bigger, broader, and packed way more cash!
Dunn Capital had thrown $21.3 billion into the game, leveraging it 25 times—shorting one NASDAQ stock and 124 NYSE stocks.
It was like a massive black hole, ready to suck up everything from NASDAQ and NYSE—gobbling, gobbling, gobbling!
This was gonna be a fortune for the ages!
Back in New York, Scott Swift went from a nobody to the hottest name overnight!
A plane might’ve smashed into a building in Manhattan, but to Wall Street’s greedy sharks, what’s a disaster?
A disaster’s just money!
“Dunn, I’ve finally seen the true colors of these Wall Street guys!” Scott Swift sighed over the phone.
Dunn chuckled. “I bet a bunch of financial bigwigs are cozying up to you now, huh?”
“Chasing profit, dodging loss—that’s human nature. I’m talking about Wall Street!”
“Oh? What’s up?”
Scott’s voice slowed. “You know what? The second the attacks hit, Wall Street’s fat cats weren’t thinking about national safety or rescue efforts. They were thinking about cash.”
Dunn smirked to himself. And you’re any different?
He didn’t even feel that attached to the U.S., yet when 9/11 hit, he still felt shaken, a pang of sympathy.
But Scott Swift, born-and-bred American, laughed it off—a true Wall Street wolf.
“The markets got shut down, right? Futures too—no way they’re trading those,” Dunn said, puzzled.
Scott replied, “Sure, U.S. markets are frozen. But there’s Europe! There’s the Nikkei! This is Manhattan—it drags the whole global economy down with it.”
“Oh? What’d they do?”
“Not sure on the details yet, but I heard through the grapevine—two big-name financial titans are dumping airline stocks like crazy.”
Dunn nodded. “Makes sense. Hijackings will scare people off flying. For months, U.S. airlines will be ghost towns. That’ll hit international passenger numbers too. Airlines are gonna bleed cash—totally predictable.”
Scott said, “Right now, Tokyo’s down 48%, London’s down 62%, Paris is down 114%, Frankfurt’s down 91%. And the hardest-hit airline stocks? British Airways, Lufthansa, Air France—all crashed over 30%.”
Dunn blinked. “What about us? Didn’t we short some airline stocks too?”
“Three of ‘em—not a ton,” Scott sighed, a little bummed. Then he perked up. “But no worries! Beyond airlines, tourism and insurance stocks are gonna tank hard too! Especially insurance—$30 billion in claims? Their stocks are getting cut in half, easy!”
“Oh? How many do we have?”
“Fourteen tourism stocks, twenty-five insurance ones!”
Dunn’s mind lit up.
He paused, then said, “Right now, global markets are waiting for the U.S. to reopen. The Fed’s gotta step in to calm everyone down.”
Scott laughed it off. “What can the Fed do? Tweak interest rates, mess with currency—small potatoes. Won’t stop the panic selling. Mark my words, this time… it’ll take a trillion bucks to plug the hole!”
…
Latest update: the markets will reopen next Monday, September 17.
For Dunn, that was golden news.
By comparison, TA Network’s week was a snooze—subscriptions only ticked up by 20,000.
This weekend, Band of Brothers Episode 2 didn’t air as planned. Instead, they swapped in a comedy—Universal’s Meet the Parents with Robert De Niro.
That flick hit theaters last October and raked in $330 million on a budget-friendly gamble.
Viewership? Solid—peaked at over 16 million households.
Goes to show, movies still outshine TV.
Then again, maybe this weekend, tons of families ditched going out and stayed home to watch.
It’s a wild time.
