The scent of chlorine mixed with morning jasmine as Ethan Carter paced the rooftop pool deck of the Beverly Hills Hotel, his polished Oxfords leaving faint damp prints on the concrete. Below him, Sunset Boulevard pulsed with early traffic, a river of headlights cutting through the lingering dawn fog. He barely glanced at the nervous assistant who delivered the Carolco financials, already mentally three steps ahead of the game. The envelope contained the final piece he needed - Carolco's fourth quarter reports, marked with his accountant's red ink circling the most vulnerable numbers. The numbers were even worse than he'd hoped, which was perfect.
Back in the Dragon Pictures war room, the air conditioning hummed too loudly, ruffling the edges of legal documents spread across the table. Resnick, Ethan's lead attorney, tapped a stack of papers with his Montblanc pen. The documents showed Carolco Pictures was hemorrhaging money after Rambo III's disastrous performance - $100 million under projections. "Their creditors are circling like vultures," Resnick announced. "Chemical Bank is ready to call their line of credit, and the completion bond company is sweating over their current production."
Sarah Gunderson, Dragon's VP of Production, leaned forward, her blazer sleeves rolled up to reveal ink-stained wrists from late-night script revisions. "And we care because...?"
Ethan placed a black-and-white photograph on the table - James Cameron on the set of The Terminator, drenched in fake blood and grinning like a madman. "Because buried in their $78 million debt is the Terminator sequel rights. And according to my sources at Lightstorm, Cameron's already storyboarding T2 during breaks from The Abyss."
Marty Rosen, head of distribution, whistled through his teeth, his ever-present cigar bobbing as he spoke. "That's a hell of a salvage operation."
"Not salvage," Ethan corrected, unfolding a detailed map of Carolco's assets across the table. "Acquisition. Their foreign sales division is still solid. Their Pittsburgh production office would be perfect for Lambs. And their library includes some interesting B-movie rights we could exploit." His finger traced the columns of numbers. "We take what we need, leave them the carcass."
The operation unfolded with military precision across three fronts simultaneously. First, through a shell company called Tartarus Holdings, Dragon quietly purchased $4.2 million of Carolco's distressed debt from Bank of America at forty cents on the dollar. The loan documents included a little-noticed clause giving them control of any intellectual property used as collateral. Second, an anonymous tip to Variety's gossip columnist revealed exclusive details about Cameron's secret T2 storyboards - including sketches of a revolutionary liquid metal assassin. By market close, Carolco's stock had tumbled another 12%. Third, while his team worked the numbers stateside, Ethan boarded the Dragon Pictures Gulfstream for an overnight flight to Toronto, where Cameron was in the midst of the notoriously troubled Abyss shoot.
Ethan arrived during a night shoot, watching from the shadows as crew members struggled with malfunctioning underwater rigs. The set was chaos - actors and technicians moving through clouds of fake fog, the massive water tank glowing an eerie blue under the klieg lights. When Cameron finally emerged from the tank, dripping and exhausted after twelve hours in the water, Ethan handed him a towel and a bound script.
"Finish your underwater movie," Ethan said without preamble. "Then make Terminator 2 with us. Final cut. No studio interference." He produced a check from his breast pocket. "And enough budget to break every special effects record in the book."
Cameron wiped water from his eyes, studying the numbers. "This is... generous. But Carolco-"
"Will no longer be a problem." Ethan's voice was calm, certain. "We're acquiring the rights. The question is whether you want to make this film with executives who understand filmmaking, or go back to fighting over every line item."
Cameron hesitated, then dropped the bombshell. "There's something else. After this, I want to make a period piece. About the Titanic."
Ethan didn't blink. "We'll fund it."
"You don't even know the budget."
"I know it'll be massive. I know the studios will say it's crazy." Ethan met Cameron's gaze. "I also know it'll make history."
The director exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Three pictures. Terminator 2 first. Then Titanic. Then my choice."
"Done."
Two weeks later, on Valentine's Day 1989, the showdown occurred in Carolco's boardroom. The space smelled of stale coffee and desperation. Mario Kassar, Carolco's CEO, slammed his fist on the polished mahogany table hard enough to rattle the water glasses. "You're stealing our franchise!"
Ethan didn't blink. He adjusted the cufflinks on his Turnbull & Asser shirt - a gift from his father that he wore like armor. "I'm buying it fair and square. Along with your entire foreign sales division." He slid a contract across the table. "Sign today, and we'll assume $22 million of your debt."
Kassar's lawyer whispered urgently in his ear. The color drained from the CEO's face as he realized the trap - Dragon already controlled enough debt to force bankruptcy proceedings if they chose. The pen shook slightly in his hand as he signed.
As Kassar pushed the documents back, Ethan added casually, "Oh, and we'll need your Pittsburgh production office. For Silence of the Lambs."
By month's end, the dust had settled with several seismic shifts in Dragon's favor. They owned the Terminator rights outright, free and clear. Carolco's top five sales agents had defected to Dragon's newly formed international division. The Pittsburgh office was already being converted into a production hub for Lambs. And in a vault deep in Carolco's archives, Dragon's lawyers had discovered an unexpected prize - the rights to Basic Instinct, a script every major studio had rejected as "too explicit," which Ethan quietly added to Dragon's growing slate.
At The Abyss wrap party in Toronto, blue light from underwater footage played across the editing bay walls as Cameron raised a glass of single malt to Ethan. "To the only studio head who doesn't give notes."
Ethan allowed himself a rare smile, clinking his mineral water against the director's glass. Outside, the first warm winds of spring stirred the Canadian pines. Somewhere in the California desert, a young actor named Robert Patrick - currently filming Die Hard 2 - was about to receive the call that would change his life. And in Pittsburgh, Anthony Hopkins practiced his Hannibal Lecter stare in a mirror, unaware of the cultural earthquake about to begin.
The pieces were falling into place exactly as Ethan had foreseen. Cameron got his creative freedom and the budgets to match. Dragon secured three guaranteed blockbusters from the most visionary director of their generation. And Hollywood would never be the same again. As Ethan looked out over the Toronto skyline, he could already see the next moves taking shapw , the indie film festival where a young Tarantino was shopping his Reservoir Dogs script, the struggling comic book company called Marvel that was about to become very affordable. The game was evolving, and Ethan Carter intended to stay several moves ahead.