Chapter 40 Lana (Patreon)

Early morning. Sunlight filtered through the window, and Marcus's eyes flinched before opening lazily. He yawned, stretched, and sat up on the edge of the bed.

His upper body was bare—lean muscle from months of actually taking care of himself. Nothing crazy, but enough to suggest he wasn't just some scrawny kid anymore. He rubbed his eyes and pulled up the system panels.

**[Minor Quest: Become independent and own a place of your own. Accomplished. +15 Points]**

[Daily Quest: Spend your first night in your new residence. Accomplished. +2 Points]

[Daily Quest: Prepare your own breakfast in your new home. In Progress.]

The points were nice, sure. But more than that, having a place of his own just felt good. Even if Ryan moved in—and maybe Arya too, if her parents agreed—it didn't change anything. This was his place. His name on the lease. His responsibility.

Besides, this wasn't meant to be permanent anyway. It was a stepping stone. Temporary.

And if he ever needed real privacy—say, for bringing a woman back—he could always lock his bedroom door. Or, down the line, get himself a nicer spot. Options were good.

"Today's gonna be a good day," he muttered to himself, almost like a mantra.

He threw on a shirt and got to work on the morning routine. Made his bed. Cooked eggs and toast. Washed the dishes right after.

[Daily Quest: Prepare your own breakfast in your new home. Accomplished. +1.5 Points]

The place was big. Way bigger than his dad's house. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two floors of open space that echoed when you walked through them.

There was no way he could keep up with all of this alone. Not with everything else on his plate.

He could hire a housekeeper. That was the logical move. But why pay someone when you could guilt your friends into doing it for free?

Besides, Ryan owed him. The guy had been mooching off Marcus's snacks for years. Time to collect.

---ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ---

He took the bus to Studio City. About thirty minutes from his new place to the Netflicks building.

When he stepped off and walked up to the entrance, he noticed the Netflicks logo above the door—the landlord had finally agreed to let them put it up.

The building used to house a mix of tenants—photography studios, small agencies, whatever paid rent. But as some of them fell behind on payments and got kicked out, Netflicks had gradually taken over their spaces. They'd started with two floors. Now they had three.

"How's it going, Mr. Crown?"

"Hey, boss."

Marcus nodded at the greetings as he walked through.

"Morning, boss." Hana greeted him as he passed her desk. After weeks of working as a developer, she'd gotten used to it. No one would guess she was once a journalist.

"Morning, Hana."

Despite the age gaps, nobody on staff seemed uncomfortable calling him "boss." To them, he was just that young CEO who knew what he was doing.

Marcus climbed the stairs and entered his office on the third floor—recently relocated after they'd secured the additional space.

It wasn't much. A decent-sized room with a window overlooking the street. A wooden desk. A leather chair that was probably too nice for the space. Some filing cabinets. A small sofa for guests.

He sat down, leaned back, and laced his fingers together in front of him. The classic "CEO pose."

'I used to dream about this in my previous life,' he thought. 'Corner office. Running a company. Making moves. And now...'

A smile tugged at his lips. It was okay to pat yourself on the back once in a while. As long as you didn't get cocky about it.

Just then, the door swung open without warning.

Marcus flinched, nearly knocking over his pen holder. He scrambled to look busy, grabbing a random stack of papers and pretending to read.

He glanced up with what he hoped was a calm, unsurprised expression. "Jefferson."

Jefferson walked in, looking amused. Behind him were three other people—members of the business development team he'd helped recruit. Louis, the lead negotiator, was among them.

"Marcus." Jefferson dropped onto the small sofa with a satisfied sigh. "Heard you got a place of your own. Congrats."

"Yeah." Marcus nodded.

"You taking girls back there already? Thinking about starting a family?"

Marcus snorted. "A girl, maybe. But starting a family?" He shook his head. "That's way down the road."

Jefferson grinned. Then he gestured to the three men beside him. "Alright, guys. Bring him up to speed."

They nodded and launched into their report.

Apparently, two of the Big Four studios—Dinsley and Worldwide Pictures—were open to licensing more content for Netflicks' streaming platform. But when it came to supplying DVDs for the rental service? They'd shut the door completely.

"Figures." Marcus sighed. "Blockbuster Cinema's throwing its weight around."

"They're big enough to influence those studios," Jefferson said, scratching his cheek. "Dinsley and Worldwide have exclusive agreements with Blockbuster for physical distribution. They're not gonna betray a major partner for a startup. Especially not after you went on TV and basically called Blockbuster a dinosaur."

"Yeah..." Marcus winced slightly. That interview had been good for publicity, but it had also painted a target on his back. "Fair point."

"But let's not get discouraged." Louis—a sharp-looking guy in his early thirties who handled most of the studio negotiations—spoke up with a faint smile. "We might've lost Dinsley and Worldwide on the DVD front, but we've made real progress with Summit and Warden Bros. Both are open to supply agreements."

Marcus's eyes lit up. "Seriously? That's solid."

"Summit's probably willing because of your film," Louis continued. "Paranormal Activity is still printing money for them. They see value in keeping the relationship warm. Their terms aren't as good as what Blockbuster gets, but it's workable." He paused. "As for Warden Bros.—apparently they've got some ongoing disputes with Blockbuster. Contract disagreements, pricing issues, that kind of thing. They're willing to offer us better terms than Summit just to spite them."

Marcus leaned back, tapping his pen against the desk. "That works. Either way, the whole point of DVDs is just to keep subscribers coming in and paying while we build out original content. Once people get used to watching stuff online instead of waiting for a disc in the mail, they'll stop caring about physical rentals. We just gotta stay profitable until that shift happens naturally."

Jefferson and the others nodded. They hadn't forgotten the real strategy here.

Netflicks wasn't trying to beat Blockbuster at its own game. They were trying to outlast them—and then replace them entirely. Not in the same industry, but in a completely new one.

"Speaking of Blockbuster," Jefferson said, leaning forward slightly. "You see what they've been doing lately?"

Marcus chuckled. "Yeah. They launched their own website. Monthly subscription for DVDs."

"Straight-up copying our model," Louis muttered.

"Not really." Marcus shook his head, still smiling. "They're half-assing it. The subscription only covers a limited selection—some popular titles, sure, but all the big hits and prestige stuff still requires traditional rental fees. They want the subscription revenue without cannibalizing their core business."

Jefferson's smile turned knowing. "Classic corporate thinking. Trying to have it both ways—offer a subscription to look like they're keeping up, but cripple it enough to protect the real money-maker. Protect what's working today, even if it kills you tomorrow."

"I almost feel bad for them," Marcus said, shaking his head slowly.

Almost.

---◖⁠⚆⁠ᴥ⁠⚆⁠◗---

By afternoon, Marcus and his employees headed home. His mind was still churning through ways to deal with Blockbuster.

He wasn't the only one whose life had been upended by the giant's influence.

Across town, in a small but decent rental house in the Valley, a young woman stood in the living room, phone pressed to her ear, desperation cracking her voice.

She was nineteen, blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her bright blue eyes red-rimmed and swollen from days of crying. She'd always been pretty—the kind of face that should've been on billboards by now.

High cheekbones, full lips, the classic California girl look that casting directors ate up. But right now, she looked hollowed out. Dark circles under her eyes. Skin pale. The kind of exhaustion that sleep couldn't fix.

"Please," Lana begged into the phone. "Can you find me something? Anything. Even a small role—a commercial—I don't care—"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Her manager's voice cut through, sharp and exasperated. His tone had that dramatic lilt to it. "Nobody in Hollywood's gonna touch you after that hotel fiasco with the chairman. You're done, honey."

"But I didn't—"

"Your agency dropped you. I'm dropping you. Why are you still forcing this?" He didn't wait for an answer. "There's other work out there besides acting. Go flip burgers. Work at a club. Hell, go sell yourself on a corner—you couldn't handle one small dick, and look where that got you."

The line went dead.

Lana pulled the phone away from her ear and tried calling back. A robotic voice informed her the number was no longer accepting calls.

He'd blocked her.

Her hands trembled. Her eyes—already raw from crying—welled up again. Nobody wanted her anymore. Every door in Hollywood had slammed shut the moment she'd run out of that hotel room.

She slumped onto the couch, muttering to herself, voice thick with regret.

"I'm such an idiot. I should've just... gone along with it. Done whatever he wanted—"

"Can you stop?" A woman's voice cut through the self-pity.

Lana looked up. Her step-sister stood in the doorway, keys still in hand, clearly just back from work. Hana was a few years older, Japanese-American, with sharp eyes and the kind of no-nonsense energy that came from grinding through life without shortcuts.

"What you did was the right thing," Hana said flatly, setting her bag down. "If you'd gotten that role by sleeping with him, you'd have already failed as an actress."

Lana glared at her. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one whose career just got torched."

"So what? You're gonna mope around here forever?" Hana walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. "There's other ways to make a living."

"Acting is my life. You know that."

Hana sighed. "Yeah, I know." She took a long sip, then said, "Look—I've got a decent job now. I don't mind if you crash here while you figure things out."

"I'm not gonna be a burden." Lana rolled her eyes. "I'll find something."

Hana studied her for a moment. Then, almost casually: "My company's actually starting a show. If you want, I could introduce you to my boss."

Lana's head snapped up. "Wait—aren't you working at that indie media thing? CineWeekly?"

"I left." Hana smiled slightly. "Joined somewhere more interesting."

"Is it a studio?" Lana straightened up, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time in days.

"Not exactly..." Hana chuckled wryly.

Lana didn't care. "What kind of show are they making?" She was like a fish gasping for water—willing to take even the smallest drop.

"Alright, alright. If you're that interested, I'll take you to meet the boss."

At the word boss, Lana flinched. Her stomach turned. She didn't have good experiences with bosses lately—especially ones in entertainment. Just thinking about Christopher made her skin crawl. She still woke up in cold sweats some nights.

Hana noticed the reaction. Her expression softened. "Hey. The guy I work for isn't like that. He's not some creep in a suit trying to get in your pants." She paused. "If he was, I wouldn't be introducing you. Trust me—I've been working with him almost every day. He's a good one."

Lana hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll take your word for it."

"Good. I'll set something up."

"But..." Lana bit her lip. "Are you sure your boss won't be scared off? I mean—going against Blockbuster by hiring me?"

Hana actually laughed at that. "Oh, trust me. He really doesn't give a shit about pissing off Blockbuster."

She was thinking about that interview. The one where her boss had basically told the world that the billion-dollar giant was headed for the graveyard.

"But whether you get cast depends on your abilities," Hana added, her tone turning serious. "I'm just an employee. I don't have the pull to hand you a role. You'll have to earn it."

"I know." Lana nodded, something hardening in her expression. When it came to acting, she didn't play around. And this time, she wanted to earn it—not through connections, not through her looks, not through favors. Just her talent.

She'd learned that lesson the hard way.

---…⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ---

Days flew by. Marcus split his time between the office and Nathan's studio as usual. Sure, he pretended to be studying for semester tests, but most of his attention was on business.

[Congratulations! You completed your Minor Quest.]

[Minor Quest: Break the Supply Chain Stranglehold — Accomplished. +50]

The notification popped up right after the company finalized deals with Summit Pictures and Warden Bros.

This was a big step. They'd managed to secure a solid supply of DVDs—first by buying out struggling local video stores, then by going straight to the studios themselves. Besides the two majors, a handful of smaller studios had also agreed to distribute their DVDs through Netflicks.

With inventory no longer a bottleneck, Marcus expected subscriber counts to climb. They were sitting at around thirty thousand now. With better selection and faster shipping, hitting fifty thousand by spring wasn't unrealistic.

"You did good work, Mr. Campbell," Marcus said genuinely to Louis, the lead negotiator.

"Just doing my job." Louis shrugged. "And repaying a debt to Jefferson." He owed the man from way back—details he didn't need to share.

When Jefferson asked him to join some startup run by a teenager, he'd been skeptical. Spent most of his career working with major corporations, after all. But he'd taken the leap anyway, out of loyalty.

Now? He was starting to think maybe this Netflicks thing actually had a future.

If things kept going this direction, he might've struck gold.

After exchanging a few more words, Louis headed out.

Marcus leaned back in his chair—then remembered. He had a meeting scheduled with Hana.

She'd approached him about a week ago, asking to set something up. Didn't say much, just that she wanted to introduce someone. Marcus had assumed it was a developer friend or maybe a potential hire for the tech team.

He'd agreed without thinking too hard about it.

Later that afternoon, Hana arrived at his office with someone in tow.

"Hana." He nodded in greeting, then glanced at the person beside her.

'Damn.'

The girl was striking. She wore a simple white blouse tucked into fitted jeans, hair neatly styled, minimal makeup—the kind of put-together look that said she'd made an effort without trying too hard. Definitely someone who knew how to present herself.

But her eyes gave her away. There was a hesitation there, a guardedness that didn't match the rest of the polished exterior.

"Boss," Hana said. "This is the person I wanted you to meet. My sister, Lana."

Lana looked at Marcus nervously. She tried to hide it, but surprise flickered across her face when she registered how young he was.

"N-nice to meet you." Her voice came out smaller than she'd intended.

'Why am I stuttering?' She didn't understand it. Maybe the incident with Christopher had shattered her confidence more than she'd realized. Or maybe it was just that Marcus was unexpectedly good-looking, and that threw her off.

"I'm Lana Mitchell," she managed, steadying herself a little. "Hana's step-sister."