A few days earlier, Nancy Brill had mentioned on the phone her interest in trying her hand at video game development. Simon hadn't opposed the idea, but he flatly refused her request for game adaptation rights to Marvel superheroes or the Tolkien series.
The Marvel heroes and the Middle-earth franchise were the two most valuable properties in Daenerys Entertainment's IP vault. Without absolute confidence, Simon would never allow them to be touched lightly.
Unexpectedly, after being turned down, Nancy managed to secure the game rights to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Simon had played the Nintendo-era Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles games.
In the original timeline, the series had been developed by the renowned Japanese company Konami and became one of its best-selling franchises.
The first TMNT game alone sold four million copies worldwide in its first year, netting Konami over a hundred million dollars in profit. The many sequels that followed kept the money rolling in.
Finishing his call with Sophia, Simon began carefully reading through the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game proposal in his hands.
Nancy had acquired the development rights for just $200,000 roughly the same price Daenerys Pictures had paid the previous year for the film adaptation rights. This time, however, the deal included a 5% net-profit share for the rights holders.
If Daenerys's TMNT game achieved anything close to Konami's success, that 5% alone would be worth a fortune.
Simon wasn't surprised.
Daenerys Entertainment was a complete newcomer to game development. Without a generous offer, the rights holders would naturally prefer established studios.
Besides, if the full TMNT game series brought Daenerys a billion dollars in profit over the coming years, Simon wouldn't mind handing Mirage Studios fifty million in royalties.
Turning the pages, he was pleased with the proposed $2 million budget.
The modest scale showed Nancy wasn't aiming for instant perfection. She understood Daenerys was a rookie in this space, and TMNT would serve primarily as a learning experience.
The genre choice, however, diverged sharply from the Konami version Simon remembered.
The Konami games he'd played were action role-playing titles that followed the animated series' plot as the four turtles embarked on a rescue mission. Nancy's proposal envisioned a versus fighting game.
In this era, the bestselling titles were almost all action-adventure or shooters—Nintendo's Super Mario Bros., Konami's Contra. Successful fighting games were virtually nonexistent.
Capcom had released the original Street Fighter in 1987 to little fanfare. Simon recalled the series only exploded with Street Fighter II in 1991.
Street Fighter II not only shattered Capcom's sales records but was hailed by many as one of the greatest games ever made.
Right now, no breakout fighting game dominated the market—an opening that represented opportunity for any developer willing to seize it.
Nancy had highlighted exactly that in her proposal, explaining it as the reason she chose the fighting genre for TMNT.
She also noted that hardware limitations had long held the genre back.
The dominant Nintendo Entertainment System was still an 8-bit machine with over 90% market share. Sega had already launched its 16-bit Mega Drive, and Nintendo was racing to release its own 16-bit console. The industry stood at the cusp of a generational leap.
Compared to 8-bit hardware, 16-bit systems offered a quantum improvement in storage capacity and graphics—perfect for the demands of fighting games. Accordingly, the TMNT project would target 16-bit platforms from the start.
Simon had to admire the thoroughness of Nancy's thinking. Still, he spotted the plan's biggest flaw.
Sega's 16-bit console had launched the previous year, and the proposal noted Nintendo planned to release its own in July of this year.
Typical development cycles for games in this era ran three to five months. If all went smoothly, Daenerys's 16-bit TMNT fighter could ride the wave of Nintendo's new hardware.
But Simon remembered that, due to technical delays, Nintendo repeatedly pushed back the Super Famicom launch until November 1990 a full year-plus delay. The North American and European releases came even later.
He didn't believe his butterfly wings could magically solve Nintendo's engineering problems.
If the Super Famicom slipped, Daenerys's 16-bit TMNT game would be left without a platform. The company could pivot to Sega's Mega Drive or PC, of course.
Yet the major console makers were fiercely territorial.
Even giants like Capcom and Konami rarely dared to develop openly for multiple platforms. A newcomer like Daenerys had no room to hedge bets. Aligning with Sega would shut the door at Nintendo.
That dynamic wouldn't loosen until the 1990s, when PC gaming grew and console competition intensified.
After a moment's thought, Simon asked Jennifer to get Nancy on the line while he began jotting down ideas for the original action-RPG style TMNT game on notepaper.
Jennifer handed him the receiver. Simon shared his "hunch" that the Super Famicom might be delayed and outlined his alternative action-RPG concept.
They spoke for over twenty minutes. Nancy promised to investigate Nintendo's progress and adjust her plan accordingly.
Finally, Simon added another $500,000 to the budget. If the Super Famicom appeared likely to slip, the studio could develop two 8-bit TMNT titles simultaneously: his action-RPG version and Nancy's fighting game.
The action-RPG was pure business the Konami original had been a proven moneymaker, and there was no reason to leave that opportunity on the table. The fighter would serve as valuable experience. The genre vacuum was obvious; even Street Fighter II might never have happened without the foundation of the original. The investment was worthwhile.
The global video game industry would soon rival film in scale. Vast potential waited.
Since Daenerys was entering the field, Simon had no intention of dabbling.
Before hanging up, he asked about the studio name.
Nancy didn't care much, suggesting they simply follow the pattern of other Daenerys subsidiaries, Daenerys Games.
Simon wanted the game division separate. "In that case," he said, "call it Blizzard. Blizzard Entertainment."
A puzzled voice came through the receiver. "Blizzard? Does it mean something special?"
"Yes," Simon replied. "Very special. So if you mess this up, I'll be extremely disappointed."
Nancy sensed he wasn't going to elaborate. "All right, boss. I'll have someone register it tomorrow."
After the call, Simon realized he'd unconsciously filled several sheets of notepaper with sketches and notes.
He asked Jennifer to organize them and fax everything to Los Angeles, then glanced at his watch, 11:35. Almost lunchtime.
Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, he mentally reviewed the rest of the day.
That afternoon he'd review recent dailies and discuss certain effects shots with the Daenerys VFX team. Tonight another key scene was scheduled.
Batman versus Deadshot.
Killer Croc and Deadshot—two professional assassins hired by Black Mask. Their appearances also planted seeds for a potential future Suicide Squad franchise.
Opening his eyes again, he saw Jennifer leaning over the desk beside him, tidying the papers. She wore a pale-blue pinstripe blouse and white trousers today; the tailored fit accentuated her slender yet curvaceous figure from the side.
Feeling his gaze, she straightened and changed the subject. "What do you want for lunch?"
Simon continued admiring her graceful lines. "Aren't you ever disappointed, staying by my side like this?"
Jennifer blinked, then shook her head earnestly. "No."
"I mean," Simon said, "you once thought Simon Westeros was an artist. Now he's just a businessman, always scheming how to make more money."
Hearing him put it that way, Jennifer circled the desk, perched on its edge beside him, then simply sat fully on the desktop. She kicked off her low black heels and looked down at the man in the leather chair. "I didn't fall for you because you're an artist, Simon. I though you're amazing at that. I like you because you're different from everyone else in the world. You're one of a kind."
Simon nudged the floor with his toe, rolling the chair closer. This time Jennifer naturally lifted her legs and rested her stockinged feet on his thighs. He caught one ankle. "Technically, everyone is one of a kind."
"I've never really had much initiative," she admitted. "I'm not cut out to be some fiercely independent woman. Growing up, I had plenty of wild ideas, but I almost never followed through, afraid of failing, afraid of being laughed at, afraid of disappointing Mom and Dad. All those worries, and I ended up like this. My parents protected me when I was little. When I grew up and knew I couldn't stay under their wing forever, I met you." She pressed her feet playfully into his palm; he tickled her sole, making her laugh, then she pressed harder. "So now I'm going to cling to you. You'll protect me, right, Simon?"
He pretended to hesitate. "I'll do my best to keep Janet from bullying you."
"Janet's smart, smarter than me, maybe even smarter than you. She doesn't see me as any threat, just a harmless little assistant."
Simon laughed. "Sounds like Janet's the real mastermind behind the scenes."
"Hehe, exactly." Jennifer nodded in full agreement. After a tender moment she changed topics again. "So what does 'Blizzard' really mean?"
Simon considered. "I can't tell you the full meaning. But there's a piece of music called 'Blizzard.'"
The man before her carried too many secrets; if he said he couldn't tell her, there was good reason. Still, the mention of music sparked her interest. "A piece called 'Blizzard'—will you play it for me?"
He shook his head. "It's purely instrumental, no lyrics. I'll record it for you sometime."
Jennifer gently pressed her foot into his hand again. "There's a piano in the restaurant downstairs. You could play it now."
Simon recalled the grand piano in the hotel dining room. No one had touched it in the weeks he'd been there; probably just decoration. He wasn't sure it was even tuned.
Jennifer gave him no time to hesitate. She hopped off the desk, slipped her shoes back on, and tugged him toward the door. "Perfect timing for lunch anyway. Play it for me first."
As they left the suite she ducked into her own room and emerged with a Super 8 camcorder.
Seeing the camera, Simon remembered the famous Wild Bee Flight video. Jennifer clearly did too; she lifted the device with a grin. "This one's just for my private collection. I won't show anyone."
Lunchtime approached, and the restaurant bustled.
Since the hotel had been booked out for the Batman crew, everyone dining was part of the production. Some still looked sleepy, having only just woken up.
Simon greeted a few people, asked a waiter about the piano, then walked straight to the instrument by the window. Jennifer chose a quiet nearby table, set up the camcorder, and looked up at the man settling onto the bench, eyes bright with anticipation.
To capture the full effect, the piece needed amplification.
The waiter quickly set up a microphone. Simon tested a few keys, glanced at the woman a short distance away, then leaned toward the mic with a smile, aware of every gaze in the room. "Blizzard—dedicated to Jennifer."
Many around them smiled knowingly.
He had opened his famous Wild Bee Flight performance the same way.
Some, however, understood that the Jennifer in question might be a different one, perhaps the young assistant holding the camcorder.
Simon paid no mind to their thoughts. He finished speaking and began to play a piece he called Blizzard.
It wasn't really called Blizzard.
It was The Dawn—an insert from the film The Rock.
Or some people called it Requiem for the Dead.
Simon felt Blizzard fit just as well.
Strictly speaking, the piano couldn't fully convey the composition's power, yet under his masterful touch the restaurant filled with notes that danced lightly, surged passionately, flowed gently, soared majestically, fell silent, then erupted in frenzy. Everyone listening was soon spellbound.
The girl quietly holding the camcorder gazed at the focused figure beside the piano, her eyes gradually softening with enchantment.
Perhaps from the unspoken connection built over time together, Jennifer instinctively sensed a long, long story behind the music. A hero who had already slain the evil dragon, clad in battered leather armor, greatsword on his back, trudging through a fierce blizzard in an ancient forest long forgotten by the world still searching for his unknown destiny.