Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Veil of Mystery

William White's game console was shrouded in mystery; since it had not yet entered mass production, outsiders did not even know what architecture it used.

Americans were honestly baffled. In their fixed minds, Texans were supposed to be rough-and-ready people, so how could there be such meticulous planning?

Plenty of people had visited White's ranch, and those second-generation heirs were just as evasive. In any case, people could tell that William White had no intention of hiding it; he simply would not let them talk before the launch conference, or he would not give them the consoles.

Sounds like child's play, doesn't it?

Yet it worked remarkably well. No one wanted to become the target of public outrage, and being mocked by a pack of rich second-generation brats would be a disaster. How would they ever show their faces in the circle again?

A Texas ranch was not an ideal place for research and development. William White was not rich enough yet; the R and D base had to be set up either in Australia or in Hawaii.

Both places had relatively secluded islands. As long as you had enough cash, you could build a palace there and no one would care.

The so-called launch event was practically an arcade. According to the schedule, from eight to ten it was open for tours, with the company's entire interior open to visitors, provided, of course, that you had an invitation card.

As the saying went, laypeople watched the spectacle while experts watched the details. The first to arrive were naturally people from the industry. Very few theater owners showed up early; the event did not officially begin until ten, so arriving before then was enough.

A few big shots maintained some reserve, but their technicians did not bother with such niceties. Seeing empty machines, of course they had to try them out.

Soon staff brought coffee and black tea. At that point, perhaps only the theater owners had any interest in drinking, while several Japanese companies were already reeling.

These game consoles were from a completely different era. If they ever reached the market, they would be pure gold.

Seeing the greedy looks from their peers, the old hands could only shake their heads and smile bitterly. Without paying a heavy price, there was no chance of getting a license.

American theater owners were not all idiots. They quickly understood why they had been invited. This was definitely a good business, and as long as the machines were not too expensive, putting a few in cinemas would be no problem.

William White had arrived early. He still needed to greet the theater owners, and maintaining good relations with them mattered. Right now, making commercial films was no problem; with dollars on your side, no one would pick a fight with you.

Things would be different when he moved into art films later. Without support, you would simply flop. That was how The Shawshank Redemption had died. Even the best word of mouth was useless.

Atari, distracted and slow to react, finally got the news. Their face had been slapped red this time. Just two days earlier they had been talking big, and now they did not even know how to clean up the mess.

Their first thought was acquisition. That was a chronic habit of large American corporations. If they could not buy you, they would poach your talent, then pressure you through the banks.

Atari's backer was Warner, not some fake giant like United Artists. Warner was the real thing.

Warner was a true behemoth. It had not only its own television network, but also the famous HBO cable channel.

Newspapers, magazines, and comics, too, were all part of the package. Before News Corporation rose to power, Warner had been the undisputed leader of the industry.

Atari was merely a tiny, almost forgettable business line for them. No matter how loudly Atari's boss bragged, he probably did not even qualify to sit on the board.

With so many affiliated companies before you, it was easy to see Warner's path of expansion.

Yes, acquisitions.

Although the economy had been poor these past two years, the media sector had not been affected all that much. White Studios had long been on their radar. If William White had not risen so quickly, Warner would have already made a move.

Now, though, acquiring him was difficult. The other side clearly was not short of money, and it had ambitions in entertainment as well. He was not an easy man to deal with.

Steve Ross was no simple character. He was the very image of an iron-fisted CEO: ruthless and cunning, yet also knowing when to act and when to hold back.

His connections were terrifyingly broad as well. Barbra Streisand and Steven Spielberg were both close friends of his.

From the people he chose to associate with, one could see that his eye was extraordinary. Spielberg hardly needs explaining; everyone knows him. Barbra Streisand was hardly a minor figure either.

When Madonna was still performing on the streets, Streisand had already been a superstar. Her first film as writer, director, and star even won the award for Best Director.

And that was the Academy Awards. She was primarily a singer, after all; filmmaking was just a sideline.

As for Steve Ross, the old man was deeply conflicted. He could not make sense of William White's rise. He had taken part in the early attempts to suppress him, but everything that followed had completely spun out of control, and that damned kid suddenly shot straight to the heavens.

For a true power player, temporary restraint was not a problem. Given the right opportunity, he would not mind swallowing the whole thing, skin and bones alike. There was simply too much good stuff about that kid not to covet.

He was already upset over the Christmas release slate, and now another mess had come up.

According to the reports from his people, White's game console was formidable as well. Turning it into a television game was only a matter of time.

Films, games, and that mysterious comic project—so many of these ventures overlapped with Warner's interests that friction was almost inevitable.

Use some underhanded trick?

That domineering Texas cowboy would not be easy to handle. If he had the nerve to dye a man's dog green, then direct confrontation was not out of the question.

By now Steve Ross was living too comfortably to want to brawl with anyone. It was hardly necessary.

The crucial point was that they might not even win. The other side's bodyguards were all elite special operatives, and he had his own security company. The gangsters he knew were simply not enough to play with them.

The common curse of the wealthy is that they value their lives too much. The old man clearly hesitated. He could not be sure how the other side would react. Based on past behavior, this was exactly the sort of bastard who never let a slight go unanswered.

As for Steve Ross, there was even a book about him in later years, so William White of course knew how formidable he was. Directly shifting the blame for the plagiarism scandal was aimed straight at that old fox.

William White, relying on his youth, was basically a brawler beating a master at random. His crude, unreasonable style really did scare a lot of people off.

Those were men of status; they would not go mad with him. To people like these old hands, the truly frightening ones were the schemers. A hotheaded firecracker would eventually blow himself up.

Someone destined to die sooner or later was not worth quarreling with. If you got dragged down with him, you were finished.

Hadn't the Hunter family already caved? The other side had made it plain they were setting a trap. If you were unhappy, then come and fight.

Everyone knew Texans were unreliable; they just had not expected this. What era was it now? How could there still be something as ridiculous as a street war? Did he think this was before World War II?

The launch had not even begun, and the outside world was already in an uproar. William White knew that today's guests definitely included representatives from all sides.

But he did not care. This was a lawful business. If they tried to revive that nonsense about games being harmful, he would simply pull out of the United States.