Colt's massive war machine roared to life, operating with unprecedented efficiency.
The technical department pulled an all-nighter, gathering a team of specialists to verify the seemingly simple schematics.
Their conclusion left them shaken.
Simple structure.
Low machining difficulty.
Yet excellent practicality and reliability.
Meanwhile, the legal and PR departments formed a joint task force under Matt Wallace's personal command—thus beginning his long and excruciating campaign of persuasion.
The first call he made was to a Remington vice president, someone he had a decent personal relationship with.
"Matt, did I hear that right?" the man scoffed. "You want us to sign a document agreeing that Colt will represent Sega's voting rights? You realize what that sounds like? Like inviting a fox to chair the annual meeting of the henhouse."
The ridicule on the other end of the line was unfiltered.
"Listen, Frank," Matt said patiently, "this isn't about control—this is just a symbolic—"
"Matt, we're adults. Don't insult me. You and I both know—once everyone agrees something is symbolic, the symbol becomes power."
Click.
The call ended decisively.
Matt stared at the receiver, took a deep breath, then drew a heavy question mark next to Remington's name.
He knew this was only the beginning.
---
At the same time, another effort was quietly underway.
On a flight from Hartford to Los Angeles sat a Colt executive, carrying in his briefcase a film story outline hand-written by Nakayama Takuya himself.
Hollywood reacted much faster.
The moment Tom Clancy arrived in Los Angeles, he arranged lunch with an old friend at Paramount, meeting at Musso & Frank Grill.
"Listen, Bob," Clancy said as he sliced his steak, not bothering to look up, "let me pitch you a story. A hitman slaughters an entire crime syndicate… because they killed his dog. No conspiracies, no saving the world—just killing. Clean, professional, beautiful killing."
Bob the producer snorted. "Tom, I get stacks of scripts like that every week. Too generic."
"Is that so?" Clancy set down his utensils and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "Then what if I told you the prop sponsors would be Colt, Remington, Smith & Wesson—every major manufacturer under the NRA? They're offering not just real firearms, but millions of dollars in joint promotional funding."
Bob froze mid-chew. His eyes widened.
Clancy leaned back, watching his old friend's priceless reaction, then delivered the final blow:
"And all they want is for the movie to make their guns look cool. Oh, and by the way—the story framework was written by a Japanese guy."
Clang!
Bob's silver fork hit the plate with a sharp ring.
He lurched forward, lowering his voice:
"Tom—say that again?!"
One hour later, Matt Wallace's office phone faced the first tidal wave of calls from Hollywood.
Warner Bros.
20th Century Fox.
MGM.
The sharks of Hollywood had smelled blood—no, money.
This was no longer a simple film project.
This was a cultural product endorsed directly by the most powerful industrial bloc in America—the military-industrial complex.
They weren't receiving a script outline—they were receiving a direct pipeline to the wallets of tens of millions of American gun enthusiasts.
"Tying firearms to the lifestyle of the middle class? God, the guy who thought of this is a demon!"
"They're planning multiple films? A trilogy? They want to build the '007 of guns'?"
"What about Sony?"
"They just swallowed Columbia Pictures. They're too busy digesting the acquisition."
"Disney?"
"You think Mickey Mouse is going to let Donald Duck carry a tricked-out M4 with tactical rails and blow someone's brains out? They had a meeting and decided this 'does not align with Disney's narrative vision.'"
In the end, after a closed-door negotiation among the Hollywood Big Seven, Universal Pictures emerged victorious.
Their slate lacked a flagship action film that year, and their offer fit Colt's needs perfectly—
they promised a top-tier production team and were willing to integrate deeply with firearm manufacturers for marketing.
The news shook Hollywood to its core.
---
By the time the smoke of the East Coast battles had barely started to fade, Nakayama Takuya and James White had already returned to sunny Redwood City.
They stepped into the R&D department. Before they even reached Kojima's workstation, shouts echoed down the hall.
Takuya and James exchanged a glance—amusement flickering in both eyes.
Rounding the corner, even James White, hardened veteran that he was, raised his eyebrows.
In the open space of the office, several programmers were crawling on the floor in a bizarre, awkward motion—like they were imitating some kind of marine creature.
And their "director," Hideo Kojima, stood on a chair, wildly gesturing as he commanded the scene.
Black-rimmed glasses.
A mess of hair.
A face brimming with manic creative energy.
James twitched at the corner of his mouth and whispered, almost solemnly:
"Your company culture is… lively."
Takuya didn't answer. He just clapped.
It wasn't loud, but it instantly drew everyone's attention.
"Nakayama-san!" Kojima's eyes lit up. He scrambled over excitedly, still flushed from exertion.
"You came at the perfect time! I'm demonstrating the patrol AI logic for enemy soldiers in the new level! Data and commands alone aren't enough. Developers need to feel the pressure firsthand to create levels that make players suffocate with tension!"
Takuya chuckled. "Good work, Hideo. Looks like you've completely conquered them."
Kojima scratched his head shyly—then puffed out his chest.
"Everyone here loves games. It's easy to resonate with each other!"
Takuya glanced past him at the exhausted programmers, then at James White's complicated expression.
A perfect idea bloomed in his mind.
He patted Kojima's shoulder, lowering his voice into something almost conspiratorial.
"Hideo… once you finish the stealth game," he said, "want to try something even more exciting?"
"More exciting?" Kojima's creative radar snapped to full power.
"I've found you a military consultant," Takuya said, pointing at James. "Former Navy SEAL. Combat experience. Real kills."
James White nodded stoically.
Kojima's eyes sparkled—
like Columbus beholding a brand-new continent.
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon