Chapter 11: Action!

Chapter 11: Action! The next day dawned, and our little warehouse was buzzing like a hive of caffeinated bees. We'd cobbled together our filming equipment, and by some miracle (or perhaps demonic intervention), it was all holding together. George and I had outdone ourselves, really. We'd managed to rig up working mics and lighting setups that looked only slightly like they might spontaneously combust. But the real pride and joy? Our cameras. While juggling auditions and prep work, George and I had somehow found the time to build two more color cameras. They weren't pretty, mind you - they looked like something you'd find if you crossed a junkyard with a mad scientist's lab - but they worked. Our crew of fresh-faced graduates was stepping up too. Despite their lack of experience, they were taking charge, coordinating everything from shot setups to coffee runs with surprising efficiency. Maybe there was something to be said for youthful enthusiasm after all. Now, about the story of the Demonfather itself. I'd made some... adjustments. Using real demon clan names seemed like a fast track to getting us all turned into hellhound chow. Exiled prince or not, I wasn't about to paint a target on our backs. Our first shooting location was the Shadow Estate, perched at the top of Infernal Heights like a brooding vulture. The place had seen better days - probably about a century ago - but we didn't have the budget for a full renovation. Enter Firfel, our unexpected savior. With a wave of her hand and some elven magic, she'd transformed the dusty old manor into something that actually looked habitable. In just an hour, no less. I made a mental note to give her a raise... once we actually started making money. Just outside the manor, we'd set up what could generously be called "tents" - if you squinted and had a vivid imagination. Inside these flimsy excuses for shelter, our makeshift makeup team was working their magic on the cast. When Rocky emerged from his tent, I had to do a double-take. The transformation was... well, impressive didn't quite cover it. He looked every inch the Don Vito Corleone we needed - if Vito had been a demon, that is. Rocky's red, reptilian eyes and vampire-like teeth added an otherworldly touch to the character. It wasn't surprising, really. Rocky was a Vampire Demon, after all. No horns or tail or scales for him - just pale skin that made him look like he'd never seen the sun. Rocky caught my eye and sauntered over, his walk a perfect blend of elderly caution and quiet power. It was clear he'd been practicing. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning. Richard was nailing it. It was a shame he'd never landed a big role before - the guy had talent. As the scene continued, I felt a mixture of pride and disbelief. We were actually doing it. Making a movie. A demon mob movie, sure, but a movie nonetheless. "Cut!" I called out, once the scene wrapped. "That was... that was great, guys. Really great." The tension in the room broke, replaced by grins and excited chatter. Rocky let out a breath I think he'd been holding since we started rolling. "How'd I do, kid?" he asked, his usual gruff demeanor returning now that he was out of character. I clapped him on the shoulder. "Rocky, my friend, I think you just became a star." As we set up for the next shot, I couldn't help but feel a surge of optimism. We had a long way to go, sure, but if this first scene was any indication, we might just pull this crazy scheme off. Watch out, demon world. The Demonfather is coming, and he's bringing a whole new kind of family business with him. Oh, right. I should probably mention that "Empirica" is the big kahuna of human nations in our world. Anyway, back to our little filming. Richard was really getting into his groove now. His voice trembled with barely contained rage as he continued, "I report it to the police, like a good Empirican. These two boys were brought to trial. The judge sentenced them to three years in prison... Suspended sentence. Suspended sentence! They went free that very day..." His face contorted with disgust. "I stood there like a fool... And those two bastards... They smiled at me. Then I said to my wife, 'For justice, we must go to the Corleone'." I held my breath as Rocky's cue approached. This was the moment of truth. Rocky shifted in his chair, his hand reaching out to pet the demon cat in his lap. I had to stifle a chuckle - as if I'd forget the cat. That furball was practically a supporting character in its own right. "Why did you go to the police? Why didn't you come to me first?" Rocky rumbled, his voice low and gravelly, every inch the Don we needed him to be. I felt my heart soar. Rocky was nailing it. The hesitation from earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet confidence that practically oozed power. The scene continued, each line delivered with a precision that made me want to pinch myself. Was this really happening? Were we actually pulling this off? As Richard delivered his final plea and Rocky gave his measured response, I could barely contain my excitement. When the last line was delivered, I waited a beat, savoring the moment before calling out, "Cut!" The room erupted into a flurry of movement and chatter. Rocky slumped in his chair, the weight of the Don falling away from his shoulders. Richard wiped his brow, looking both exhausted and exhilarated.