"Star in a movie that makes more money worldwide than The Mummy Returns?"
When Luke saw the mission his system had just assigned him, he was speechless.
As an Asian rookie, the idea of landing a leading role in Hollywood was already a long shot. And now the system wanted the film to outperform The Mummy Returns at the box office?
Come on—The Mummy Returns was the 6th highest-grossing film in North America in 2001, raking in over $430 million worldwide.
Even the blockbuster hits he'd fueled with adrenaline—Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and The Fast and the Furious—couldn't compete with that.
How was he supposed to pull off a mission that hard?
"If everything were going smoothly, who would ever think of hiring a actor?" Luke muttered under his breath.
But that offhand comment suddenly lit up a spark in Director Cohen's mind.
"You know what? You're right! We should look for a film crew that's running into some problems."
"You already have someone in mind?"
"Yeah. Come on, he's in New York too—I'll take you there."
Without another word, Cohen grabbed his car keys and hurried Luke into the car.
On the way, Cohen explained the situation.
They were headed to meet Joe Johnston, the director and producer of Jurassic Park III.
Like The Mummy Returns, it was another big-budget sequel produced by Universal Pictures. Cohen and Johnston had been friends for years.
Cohen hadn't recommended this crew earlier because the project was in trouble, and he'd hoped Luke could get into The Mummy Returns instead.
After the stunning debut of the first Jurassic Park, the second film's box office and reception had already shown signs of fatigue.
But Universal wasn't ready to give up the franchise, so they decided to take a gamble and move forward with Jurassic Park III.
The first two Jurassic Park films were directed by the legendary Steven Spielberg, but the third was handed off to Johnston—a clear sign of lowered expectations.
And now, that pessimism was becoming reality.
The film was halfway through production, and internal reviews weren't good. The studio thought the project looked weak, its prospects dim.
Universal had started cutting back on post-production and marketing budgets, a clear indication they'd lost confidence.
Morale on set had plummeted.
Maybe, Cohen thought, it was precisely in this moment of chaos that Johnston might consider hiring an unknown actor like Luke.
"Luke, this could be your shot. I'll do everything I can to convince him," Cohen promised.
Under the dim car light, Luke looked at the man who'd become his first real benefactor in Hollywood.
Cohen was in his early fifties. Not exactly old, but his bald head and deep wrinkles spoke of years of weariness.
He was clearly exhausted—but still going out of his way to help Luke.
How could he ever repay that kind of kindness?
"No matter how it turns out, I really appreciate what you're doing for me."
"Come on, Luke. Don't be so formal. Too much politeness just puts distance between people. Aren't we friends?"
Americans really didn't care about age gaps. Luke was 18; Cohen was 51. Back home, they'd practically be grandfather and grandson—but here, that didn't matter at all.
"Of course. It's an honor," Luke replied with a smile.
He smiled on the outside, but inside, he was uneasy.
When he heard that Cohen wanted to introduce him to the Jurassic Park III team, his heart sank.
Because Luke knew how this movie would turn out.
In the future, Jurassic Park III would flop—barely breaking even, with terrible reviews.
Its failure would drag the entire Jurassic Park franchise into a decade-long slump, until 2015's Jurassic World reboot—starring none other than "Star-Lord" Chris Pratt—brought it roaring back to life.
So even if Luke somehow landed the lead role, what difference would it make?
Breaking into Hollywood was hard enough.
The problem with Jurassic Park III wasn't just franchise fatigue—it was the script.
The first Jurassic Park had been a masterpiece, not just for its groundbreaking visual effects but also for its deeper themes about the sanctity of life and humanity's relationship with nature.
Even the second film, while weaker, still carried an environmental message.
By the time Johnston took over the third film, all of that was gone—leaving nothing but jump scares and chase scenes.
But audiences weren't going to be impressed by dinosaurs anymore.
The scares felt recycled, the action uninspired.
All style, no substance—how could it possibly succeed?
Luke knew that to save the movie, the script would need a serious overhaul—new themes, richer storytelling, and fresh tension in the escape sequences.
Would Johnston ever agree to that? Probably not.
The thought of facing two major hurdles tonight made Luke head ache.
Still, technically, the real star of Jurassic Park III was the dinosaurs. The human characters were more like side notes.
That at least gave Luke a slim chance.
It wasn't much—but it was something.
–––
"Hey, Joe! Long time no see, buddy."
When they arrived at Johnston's place, Cohen greeted him with a warm grin.
The atmosphere was immediately friendlier than it had been with The Mummy Returns' director, Sommers.
"Man, I've had nothing but bad luck lately. It's great to see you," Johnston said, standing up to give Cohen a big hug.
"Well, your luck's about to change. I brought someone special tonight—a brilliant kid from the East. I think he might be exactly what you need."
"This kid looks great! , right? What's your name, son?" Johnston asked, smiling as he extended his hand.
Luke shook it politely, studying the man in front of him.
Born in 1950, Joe Johnston was fifty years old—tall, broad-shouldered, and still physically impressive. He even towered a few inches over Luke six-foot frame.
Man, Luke thought, I'm not short, but why are all these Hollywood directors so tall?
"Mr. Johnston, my name's Luke."
"Ah! I love kung fu!" Johnston laughed.
At least, on the surface, he seemed a lot friendlier than Sommers had been.
But Luke knew—this meeting was just getting started. Nothing about it would be simple.