Dunn's just won his first Oscar, breaking the record for the youngest Best Screenplay winner at his age.
But the real prize? He can trade this Oscar with the Sunglasses System for a "Contract Steal" skill.
As his power and status have grown, the magical sunglasses have started to matter less. Honestly, at this point, Dunn could probably carve out his own empire in Hollywood without them. He's already cracked the game wide open.
Still, they're his secret weapon. You know, just in case.
After a wild, blissful night, Dunn wakes up the next morning and heads straight to his study. He locks the door, slips on the sunglasses, and checks if the "Contract Steal" skill has shown up like it's supposed to.
But then—bam—the system interface changes.
The colors, layout, fonts—all different. And right in the middle, a pop-up grabs his attention.
"Host's North American box office exceeds $2 billion, has won global box office champion more than 3 times, and has earned 1 Oscar, meeting upgrade criteria. The system is now upgraded from basic to advanced, adding the 'Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize' skill."
Dunn freezes. The system's leveled up?
"Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize"? What's that?
He hits "Confirm," and sure enough, in his inventory, there's the "Contract Steal" skill he earned, plus a spare "Mirror Possession" skill still tucked away.
But this "Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize" thing? It's nowhere in sight. He digs into the skill details and finally finds the explanation.
Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize: As the name suggests, it's about pulling off a cosmic heist—changing fate and redirecting awards. Each use lets the host alter the winner of a major film award, assigning it to whoever they choose.
Dunn gets it instantly, and his eyes light up with excitement. This is gold—absolute gold!
It's like robbing someone blind and handing their prize to your buddy. Way more ruthless than "Contract Steal"!
In today's Hollywood, raking in box office cash is a breeze for Dunn. Awards, though—especially Oscars? That's like climbing Everest barefoot.
It's not about age bias or connections. It's tied to the whole reason the Oscars exist.
Before this year's ceremony, Dunn sat down with legends like Francis Coppola and Marlon Brando. Those talks gave him a deeper take on Hollywood and the Academy.
Movies here split into two lanes: box office and awards.
Box office is theater revenue. Awards? That's mostly the Oscars.
Back in the day, Hollywood was all about ticket sales. Every producer and director chased that one metric, and for a while, it warped the industry hard.
Then some wise folks stepped in, thought it over, and birthed the Oscars—a new path.
That origin story says it all: the Oscars and box office are at odds.
Not totally, but enough. It's a balance cooked up by the old guard to keep things in check and push Hollywood forward steadily.
Films shouldn't just chase dollars—they should aim for prestige too.
Art and commerce, hand in hand. That's the right way to roll in Hollywood.
Dunn's already cranked out three movies that topped $1 billion globally. The industry's jaws are still on the floor.
Calling him the king of commercial directors ever? Not a stretch.
But getting the Oscars to hand him Best Director? Even with Titanic and A Beautiful Mind—both of which nabbed the award for their directors in another life—it's a flat-out no for Dunn.
Why? He's too young. And way too influential.
It's not ageism—it's the opposite. The Academy's quietly shielding the young guns.
The Oscars are about setting the real value system for producers, directors, and actors in this game.
Take Leonardo DiCaprio. Young Leo didn't win early on—not because he wasn't good. Movies like Blood Diamond and The Wolf of Wall Street had Oscar juice. But he was already a megastar, raking in cash with every blockbuster, wielding huge sway.
It took years of grinding—culminating in that near-death performance in The Revenant—for him to finally grab Best Actor after 40.
Was the Academy holding him back? Nah, it was protecting him!
If Leo had crushed the box office and swept awards in his 20s, what's left to chase? Especially when Hollywood's glitz can swallow a young hotshot whole.
Leo was massive—fans everywhere. The Oscars kept him hungry, gave him a goal to claw for. It matured him, shaped him.
It's a model for young actors, keeping Hollywood's growth sustainable.
Compare that to some overseas "fresh meat" stars—teens turned traffic idols. Awards shows over there toss trophies at them for ratings, ignoring merit.
Result? They've got fans, clout, cash, and prizes—total winners! Then the industry tanks. These kids act like they own the world, and it's a disaster.
The Oscars set the standard. They push young talent to grind, to grow, to lean on skill—not just a pretty face—to build a career. No fanboy cash grabs here.
That's the right vibe, the kind of guidance a powerhouse like the Academy should give.
Let those "fresh meat" kids rake in millions the wrong way, and it's all about looks—no art left in the game. That's a tragedy.
That's why the Oscars matter. They shoulder the health of Hollywood and the whole film market.
Even if ratings dip, they won't prop up hot young things or traffic queens. They're saving a pure space for art and a grind worth chasing for the next generation.
Dunn's in the same boat as Leo—younger, bigger box office, more buzz, heavier clout.
To keep him grounded and set an example for new directors, the Academy's gonna hold him back for years.
Even if Ron Howard won Best Director for A Beautiful Mind in another timeline, Dunn's not getting it here. The gap's too wide.
For Howard, that Oscar was a pat on the back. Does Dunn need a pat?
Nah—he's too hot right now!
Plenty of old-timers think he needs to cool off. Too much heat too young? You'll burn out.
Dunn's got two lifetimes of smarts—he's not about to crash like they fear. But who's gonna buy that?
So, the next few years? No Best Director for him. Maybe some nominations, a few minor nods to say, "We see you, kid. Keep going."
Dunn doesn't resent the Oscars—he respects them for carrying that weight. But sitting back and taking it? Not his style.
Now, though—"Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize" drops in!
He can straight-up swipe an award and hand it to whoever he wants!
"Wait a sec. One Oscar gets me a 'Contract Steal.' Does that mean 'Steal the Heavens' could nab me an Oscar and a 'Contract Steal'? That's a steal!"
Dunn spots the loophole and perks up.
"No way—did I read that wrong?"
He squints at the interface again—and freezes.
There's a note after "Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize." Clear as day, it says the skill can't be used on the host himself because it overlaps with "Contract Steal."
Dunn rolls his eyes so hard he nearly passes out. This damn system's screwing with him!
All that hype for nothing!
Then he checks the unlock conditions for "Steal the Heavens," and his head starts throbbing.
It's not that they're impossible—it's the cap.
Unlock Condition: Each year, if a film the host produces, directs, writes, or acts in takes the global box office crown, the system grants one 'Steal the Heavens, Swap the Prize' skill the following year.
So, max one per year!
If Dunn wants to sneakily rig the Oscars for his crew, he's got one shot annually—at best.
"Talk about stingy!" he grumbles.
"Mirror Possession" triggers at $1 billion globally—a pipe dream for most. Plenty of directors never hit that in a lifetime.
For Dunn? It's like picking low-hanging fruit.
He's still got Oliver Stone's "Mirror Possession" active, plus an extra one stashed in his inventory.
This summer, with Never Sinking and Mr. & Mrs. Smith—both big commercial hits he's producing and writing—he'll rack up more.
Soon, he could pass them out to others instead of hogging them.
But "Steal the Heavens"? Even busting his ass, it's one a year. That's brutal.
Still, better than nothing! It's a trump card in his pocket.
"Whatever. At least I've got a way to play Oscar cop now!"
Dunn takes a deep breath, cracks a grin, and his eyes gleam with mischief.