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🕑 Added 2025-07-06 16:52:38 +0000 UTCChapter 319: The Punisher
Dunn wasn’t sold on Kevin Feige’s “Mercenary Heroes Team” idea—he was keeping his cards close to the chest on that one.
But man, did it sound exciting!
Based on Marvel Studios’ current slate, Spider-Man 2 would hit in 2002, followed by Daredevil and Ant-Man in 2003, Spider-Man 3 and Ghost Rider in 2004, and Iron Man plus Ant-Man and the Wasp in 2005…
By February 2006, Thor would drop, Daredevil 2 would land in May, and then July would bring the roaring debut of The Avengers!
If the “Mercenary Heroes Team” actually came together, they could assemble for the first time in 2008—think Spider-Man, Ghost Rider, Black Widow, the Punisher, and a handful of sidekicks. Even Daredevil could cameo without tarnishing his lofty image.
How epic would that be?
2006: Avengers assemble. 2008: Mercenary Heroes unite. 2010: Avengers again. 2012: Heroes team up once more…
Boom—every two years, a massive crossover!
Marvel Studios would flat-out dominate the superhero movie market. The X-Men series and DC’s lineup would be relegated to scraps.
Thanks to Dunn’s influence, this Hollywood timeline had no “Spider-Man Universe.” So why not let Spider-Man lead a “Mercenary Heroes Team”? It could work!
“Let’s not rush it. There’s time. We’ll see how it plays out,” Dunn muttered to himself, stretching as he wrapped up the meeting and headed back to his office.
To his surprise, Kevin Feige trailed after him.
Dunn shot him a curious glance, figuring he was still hung up on the “Mercenary Heroes” pitch. “Kevin,” he said with a grin, “honestly, your idea’s awesome! But right now, it’s risky. Marvel Studios can only have one core universe—the Avengers are the backbone. Throwing another team into the mix could muddy the waters.”
“I get it. It’ll take time and market testing,” Kevin replied, not taking Dunn’s gesture to sit. Instead, he stood respectfully in front of the desk like a proper subordinate. “Boss, I actually wanted to talk about something else.”
“Oh?” Dunn gave him a deep look, smiling. “Alright, let’s hear it.”
Kevin spoke slowly, “Marvel’s got so many superheroes—tons that just don’t fit the big screen. Relying only on movies would waste a huge chunk of Marvel Studios’ potential.”
Dunn chuckled. “You’re thinking… TV shows?”
Kevin straightened up, serious. “The big screen can’t handle stuff that’s too dark, but TV’s got no such limits. And I hear the company’s pushing hard to boost Tarz Network lately, with content as the key breakthrough, right?”
“Kevin, I’ve got to hand it to you—your mind’s always buzzing!” Dunn laughed, clearly in a good mood. “So, what’s your plan?”
“I want to produce a TV series!” Kevin squared his shoulders, locking eyes with Dunn. “I know I don’t have a ton of experience, but working on Spider-Man taught me the whole filmmaking process.”
Dunn was young himself—barely 30 this year.
But after years in the industry, he’d started to lose sight of that, picking up the same age biases as his peers. Kevin Feige was undeniably talented, but he wasn’t even 28 yet…
In the old timeline, Kevin had been 27 in 2000, assisting on X-Men as a production assistant. By 2002, he’d done the same for Spider-Man. At 30, in 2003, he stepped up as an executive producer, calling shots on X2, Daredevil, and Hulk.
From then on, he was in on every Marvel adaptation, eventually taking the reins of Marvel Studios in 2007 at the “tender” age of 34. He convinced the higher-ups to bet the farm—loans, investors, all-in risk—and delivered Iron Man, a runaway smash.
A true young Hollywood powerhouse!
Right now, though, his resume was thin. He’d only worked on Dunn’s Spider-Man, so his experience was a bit green.
Dunn mulled it over, not wanting to rain on his parade. “What’s the direction for the show?”
“The Punisher!”
Kevin had clearly thought this through, blurting it out without hesitation. “Technically, the Punisher isn’t a superhero. He’s a Marine Corps elite who snaps after getting a raw deal. That agent vibe gives us tons of angles and adaptation potential. Plus, he’s a New Yorker with two big pals—Spider-Man and Daredevil!”
Dunn saw right through him, shaking his head with a laugh. “Kevin, you’re not cooking up some sneaky side plan, are you?”
Kevin scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. “Well… it’d be great if the Punisher could cameo in Spider-Man 2 and Daredevil—or at least pop up in an Easter egg to hype him up.”
Dunn didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, squinting slightly as his right index finger tapped rhythmically on the desk.
After a long pause, he opened his eyes and said, “You’re a Marvel Studios exec, and you’re already on the Spider-Man 2 and Daredevil teams. Easter eggs, cameos—whatever you want, work it out with the directors.”
Kevin’s face lit up. That was as good as a green light! “Boss, thank you! I… I’ll make it work, I swear—”
“Hold up!” Dunn cut him off with a wave. “First, you’re stepping up as an executive producer. Take on more responsibility, back up Nina, and co-produce Spider-Man 2. When it wraps in September, I’ll decide if you can solo-produce The Punisher based on her feedback.”
Kevin didn’t flinch. “Boss, you can count on me! I’ll nail it, help Ridley Scott get Spider-Man 2 done right!”
Seeing his confidence, Dunn sighed. “The Punisher might be a TV show, but we’ve got to keep it in check—positive values and all. He’s a violent killer, sure, but it can’t just be a gore fest. Focus on the human side, the flashes of light in him. We’ve got to protect Marvel Studios’ image.”
Kevin’s eyes welled up at that.
Just moments ago, Dunn had said it’d hinge on Nina Jacobson’s review. But this? This was a clear sign—once Spider-Man 2 was done, he’d get his shot to shine.
Running a project solo, even a TV series, was a massive test of skill.
Getting that chance at 28? Once in a lifetime!
Christopher Nolan had landed Daredevil at 30, but he’d already had Memento—a polished, acclaimed hit—under his belt. Plus, Dunn was producing Daredevil himself, with Nina as backup. Double insurance.
Kevin? He’d barely cut his teeth, just a grunt on Spider-Man. Even with Spider-Man 2 experience coming, taking the helm at his age was unheard of.
“Boss, I promise—I won’t let you down!”
Who says people are heartless?
Dunn’s trust hit Kevin hard. The young guy’s eyes sparkled, brimming with emotion.
Chapter 320: The Media Can’t Replace a Jury!
Dunn’s plane touched down in Saint Paul, the capital of Minnesota.
The crew of Juno was busy filming here, working at a fast pace.
The movie was slated for a 40-day shoot, set to wrap up before the Oscar ceremony.
With a budget of $8 million, it might seem like a lot—after all, Juno had far fewer shots than Memento, which cost $5 million. But that wasn’t the full story. Memento’s brilliance came from its editing, taking coherent scenes and scrambling them into something new.
Juno, on the other hand, didn’t have many locations or characters, but it required makeup for the lead actress, Natalie Portman—fake breasts and bellies in different sizes to show her pregnancy progression. Plus, the film spanned a full year in just a short production window, so they had to use fake plants and special post-production tricks to give the audience a sense of changing seasons.
All in all, though, Juno was a pretty straightforward movie to shoot.
Dunn showed up on set, and it had nothing to do with Natalie. He was there partly to thank Cate Blanchett for her cameo, partly to check out the skills of the director, Patty Jenkins, but most importantly, to talk to producer Kathleen Kennedy.
The script for Signs had already been sent to Dunn Pictures, and the production team had approved a budget—up to $80 million, max.
After the box office flop of Unbreakable, director M. Night Shyamalan was being extra cautious with this one. As a foreigner, two flops in a row could spell the end of his Hollywood career. So, for this film, he had to make sure it was a hit!
He laid out two strict demands:
First, the lead had to be a huge star—either Mel Gibson, Tom Hanks, or Tom Cruise.
Second, he needed a producer with serious skills and experience—either Kathleen Kennedy or Dunn Walker.
His failed collaboration with Joel Russo on Unbreakable had made him obsessed with having a top-notch team.
Honestly, Dunn wasn’t thrilled about it!
Even a big-shot director like Ridley Scott would talk to Dunn with a respectful tone, but M. Night Shyamalan—an Indian guy with a couple of hits—who did he think he was? He was acting like he was some big deal.
If it weren’t for Dunn’s plan to take a swing at Disney and mess with Michael Eisner, he’d have blacklisted Shyamalan the same way he did Michael Bay.
Luckily, Dunn could see Shyamalan’s future clear as day.
Signs would do well, sure, but it’d just be a last hurrah. His talent would peak in these few years, and then he’d settle comfortably into the throne of “King of Flops.” Dunn wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.
That was a far cry from Michael Bay, whose star would only keep rising.
Casting Mel Gibson as the lead? No problem.
Sure, Mel was juggling We Were Soldiers and Mr. & Mrs. Smith right now, bouncing between sets for post-production. But the Aussie tough guy was a known workhorse—he never got tired. And in the original Signs, he’d been the lead anyway.
As for Kathleen Kennedy… Dunn felt a little stuck.
She wasn’t just the president of Rose Pictures; she was also the head of Kennedy/Marshall Company. Getting her as a producer would likely mean bringing her company into the mix. Fortunately, Signs was a big commercial flick, and her little outfit didn’t have the clout to claim profits or rights—they’d just get a co-production credit for the prestige.
Her producer fee would land between $5 million and $8 million, about the same as Shyamalan’s directing fee. For comparison, Ridley Scott’s pay was around $8 million too. Foreigners in Hollywood always got paid less than Americans at the same level!
When Dunn arrived on set, the actors were on a break. Natalie, sporting a big fake belly, was waddling around the yard with her assistant’s help, looking pretty hilarious.
“I thought you were actually pregnant for a second!” Dunn snuck up behind her, catching her off guard.
Natalie turned, grinned at first, then put on a mock frown. “Oh, shut up. I’m just getting into character—feeling what it’s like to be a pregnant woman!”
Her assistant stifled a laugh and slipped away quietly.
Dunn stepped closer, pulling her gently into a hug. “You look beautiful,” he said with a smile.
Natalie pressed her lips together, holding back a smile, then rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. I told you—no funny business until I graduate.”
Dunn sighed dramatically. “You’re overthinking it! Can’t I just compliment my girlfriend without it being some sneaky plot?”
She burst out laughing, gave him a big, exaggerated eye roll, then quickly pecked his cheek. “There, happy now?” she teased.
“How about one more?” Dunn grinned, leaning in.
“Get lost—this is a film set!” Natalie huffed, shoving him lightly. “Go do your important stuff. I’m fine here.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You think I’m one of those clueless actresses? I’m shooting a low-budget indie flick—did you really come all this way just for that?”
Dunn chuckled awkwardly. “My Nat’s too smart for me!”
She smirked. “You’re such a dork.”
…
Dunn’s arrival got the whole crew buzzing.
They were filming in a standalone house the production had rented locally, decked out to look like Juno’s home.
It was a working set, so Dunn didn’t steal the spotlight. He went straight to Kathleen Kennedy, and their chat went smoothly. She didn’t even hesitate—she agreed to take on Signs right away.
That’s emotional intelligence for you.
When Dunn showed up in person, how could she say no?
With business sorted, Dunn was in a good mood. “Patty, how’s it going? Settling in okay?”
Patty Jenkins smiled modestly. “It’s my first big movie, so there’ve been some hiccups. Honestly, I’d be lost without Kathleen’s help.”
Kathleen shook her head. “Everyone’s like that their first time directing. I remember my first gig—working on Spielberg’s 1941. He told me something I’ve never forgotten: ‘Most people don’t fail because they lack that 1% of talent—they fail because they don’t put in the 99% of effort.’”
Patty’s face turned serious, then she laughed at herself. “Guess I’ve still got a long way to go!”
Kathleen smiled warmly. “Patty, you’re doing great. We can all see how hard you’re working.”
This wasn’t just flattery for Dunn’s sake—she meant it.
Dunn nodded quietly, then grinned. “Let’s skip the polite stuff. Patty, you and Kathleen seem to get along well. How about this—if you’ve got any cool ideas or scripts down the line, bring them to her and team up with Rose Pictures? Just one catch: they’ve gotta push feminism.”
Kathleen laughed. “I’d love that!”
Patty hesitated, opening her mouth like she wanted to say something, then stopped.
“What’s up?” Dunn asked, curious.
Patty wavered. “I probably shouldn’t bring this up since Juno isn’t even done yet. But there’s this script I’ve been working on for five years. I went to the American Film Institute just to learn how to tell this story.”
“What story?”
Dunn had a sudden hunch—he might already know what she was talking about.
Patty explained, “Ten years ago, there was a case that shook the whole country. They called her America’s first female serial killer—Aileen Wuornos. She killed six men, including a cop. She confessed to it all, but…”
Dunn cut her off with a wave. “No need to explain—I know the case.”
Yup, it was exactly what he thought: Patty’s breakout hit, Monster—the feminist classic that won Charlize Theron an Oscar!
“Isn’t she still on trial?” Kathleen asked, clearly aware of the high-profile case.
Patty sighed. “Yeah. Word is, she might get the death penalty.” Florida still had capital punishment.
Kathleen’s face grew stern. “Patty, I get it—you feel for her. But you’ve got to hold off on this story. At least wait until the verdict’s in before you start the project.”
Patty’s voice rose. “By then, she might already be executed!”
Kathleen’s tone turned firm. “Are you trying to meddle with justice? Look, no company’s going to touch this film before the trial’s over—I’m just being real with you.”
Hearing that, Dunn suddenly understood why Monster didn’t start filming until after Wuornos’s execution.
Patty froze, stunned by Kathleen’s sharp words.
Kathleen softened a bit. “Patty, I know what you’re thinking—you want to use the movie to rally the public and fight for Aileen. But don’t forget, one of the victims was a cop!”
Dunn added gravely, “The media’s job is to watch, not to take over for a jury. Even if Aileen was wronged, using a film to sway the verdict might feel right, but it’s still wrong.”
Cate Blanchett, the biggest star in the crew, had the freedom to pop into the director’s room whenever. She’d slipped in unnoticed and caught Dunn’s serious comment. With a smirk, she teased, “Dunn, you sound like you could be a federal judge!”
Dunn turned, his eyes lighting up. “Cate! Oh, by the way, Daredevil needs a female lead—Elektra. Interested?”
Chapter 321: Rose’s Secret
There’s no doubt that Cate Blanchett is a highly versatile actress. If she were to star in a series of superhero movies, it’d honestly be a waste of her talent.
Take something like Thor: Ragnarok, where she played Hela, the Goddess of Death—that’s fine. It’s a one-off challenge to her acting range, and it doesn’t pigeonhole her into a single type of role. But if she were to take on a character like “Erika” and commit to multiple comic-book adaptations, it’d lock her into a specific image. That could really hurt her career in the long run.
The perfect example? Scarlett Johansson. Her big-budget commercial films tanked at the box office, and her artsy movies didn’t snag her an Oscar. So, she ended up in the Marvel universe, becoming the face of Black Widow. On the plus side, it made her a global star and a top-tier actress. The downside? She’s pretty much stuck now—no more deep, character-driven roles or indie films. It’s all popcorn flicks, voice acting for animated movies, or cameo-style appearances.
Cate might not have Scarlett’s star power, but her acting chops? They’re top-notch, even by Hollywood standards. Suggesting she play “Erika” was just a playful jab from Dunn—a way to thank her and hint at future collaborations.
Cate, though, has a clear vision for her career. After a quick chat with Dunn about “Erika’s” backstory, she politely declined and changed the subject with a grin. “By the way, you’re a big-time writer now! How about sending me a signed copy of your book?”
Dunn paused for a second. “Fair point—I totally dropped the ball on that. Once you’re done filming and back in LA, I’ll get you one.”
“Have the sales numbers come in yet?” Cate’s question piqued the curiosity of Kathleen Kennedy and Patty Jenkins, too.
Dunn beamed with pride. A bestseller! A writer! To him, that carried way more prestige than landing on the Forbes rich list. Money just smells like copper; writing is about wisdom, depth, ideas—stuff that lasts forever.
“In January, it sold 900,000 copies in North America,” he said. “I haven’t gotten the February numbers yet, but it’s already being translated and printed in a bunch of European countries.”
His tone was casual, but you could hear the quiet pride underneath. In today’s world, the only book that can rival the Harry Potter series in sales is Gone Girl. So far, it’s been distributed to over 80 countries and is being translated into more than 30 languages.
According to industry estimates, if Gone Girl keeps topping the New York Times bestseller list, it could break the U.S. record of 6.8 million domestic sales. Its global impact might not be as huge as in the States, but if it gets adapted into a movie? That’d push worldwide sales through the roof—think 50 million copies, minimum.
“900,000 copies?” Cate blinked, trying to wrap her head around it. “That’s got to mean some serious royalties, right?”
Dunn chuckled. “Ella says January’s royalty check came out to $2.7 million!”
In the U.S., intellectual property is a big deal, so books are pricey, and royalties are generous. Gone Girl retails for $15.99, and thanks to the “Dunn Walker” name, he scored a hefty 20% royalty rate. It’s a nice chunk of change.
“$2.7 million? That much?” Cate’s expression finally shifted. “And that’s just one month—and only in North America! If you tally up a whole year… no wonder people say J.K. Rowling’s wealth could buy half of Hollywood!”
Dunn waved it off with a laugh. “It’s not that crazy. Sales will taper off over time, and international royalties aren’t nearly as high as North America’s. Plus, I co-wrote this with Ella, so we split the profits.”
Cate shook her head. “Still, this book’s got to be worth at least $10 million for Ella, right?”
Dunn shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Cate let out a little sigh. Ella Fisher used to be a nobody—a small-time actress from Australia. Then she lucked into a Hollywood Aussie networking event, met Dunn, and everything changed. She didn’t stick with acting; instead, she became his assistant. But thanks to Gone Girl, she’s now got a name in the industry—and a fat bank account to match. It’s the kind of story that makes people jealous.
Cate’s a decently well-known actress in Hollywood herself, but she hasn’t even hit $10 million in earnings yet. Hitching yourself to Dunn? It’s like striking gold.
“By the way, hasn’t Rose shown up yet?” Cate’s tone wasn’t as breezy as before.
Dunn replied, “She’ll be here next week. Right now, she’s just enjoying life.”
Cate’s stomach twisted a little. She knew Rose Byrne didn’t have a huge role—less than 20 scenes total—so there was no rush for her to join the set.
Truth is, Cate and Rose are tight. Cate’s the one who helped Rose break into Hollywood and even get settled at the Mid-Level Manor. They chat on the phone all the time, and Rose can’t help but gush about how great her life is now.
She’s living in the swankiest estate in Beverly Hills, using the best cosmetics money can buy—complete with a personal makeup artist Dunn set her up with. Her wardrobe? All top-tier luxury brands. There’s even a stylist at the manor tailoring everything just for her.
When she heads out, it’s in a Ferrari, Lamborghini, or Maybach. If she’s not feeling up for driving, she’s got a chauffeur on call with a Bentley, Mercedes, or Cadillac—pure luxury. And get this: the manor even provides 24-hour private security.
Sure, it’s also Dunn’s way of keeping tabs on things. He’s not about to sink that kind of money into someone and let them run wild.
Cate doesn’t consider herself materialistic, but hearing Rose describe all this? It stirs up a little envy—maybe even jealousy. Back in the day, Rose’s life was worlds apart from hers. Now? Still worlds apart, but in the opposite direction.
And it all comes back to Dunn.
After a moment’s hesitation, Cate lowered her voice and leaned in. “Hey, Dunn, can I tell you a secret? It’s about Rose.”
“A secret?” Dunn raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Cate glanced at the other two women in the room, then gestured toward the side. “Let’s step next door. It’s an empty bedroom.”
Dunn frowned. “Is that really necessary?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“What’s it about?”
“Something from Rose’s past—a relationship.”
Dunn’s face darkened, and he waved a hand dismissively. “Not interested.”
Rose isn’t some innocent newbie, and Dunn’s just having fun with her—no plans for anything serious like kids. Why torture himself digging into her past?
“No, no, no!” Cate shook her head quickly, her expression dead serious. “Trust me, Dunn, I think you’ll really want to hear this.”
He studied her for a second, then nodded. “Alright, let’s go.”
