Just an hour after "The Demonfather" premiered, I find myself inundated with requests from major distributors and companies. It's a dizzying change from being the "trashy prince" everyone ignored.
I decide to meet with Louis Bell, a representative from Impact, a famous electronics company known for their cars, cameras, projectors, and vinyl record players. We're at "Underworld Cuisine," one of the city's most expensive restaurants. The irony of negotiating a deal for my demon mob film in a place called "Underworld Cuisine" isn't lost on me.
Louis, dressed in an expensive suit with equally pricey glasses, leans forward. "Mr. Morningstar," he begins, his tone a mix of condescension and forced politeness, "the colored camera you have isn't really groundbreaking. There have been colored pictures before, but the technology has been... limited."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, they want to downplay my achievement.
He continues, "Since there's nothing truly new about the technology, we're simply asking to license the patent for a reasonable price." He names a figure that's insultingly low, barely more than pocket change for a company like Impact.
I have to fight to keep from laughing out loud. Instead, I maintain a neutral expression, channeling my inner Michael Corleone. If there's one thing I learned from directing "The Demonfather" - or rather, adapting "The Godfather" - it's the power of a good poker face.
"I'm afraid I can't accept such an offer," I say calmly, watching Louis's expression carefully. "You see, Mr. Bell, while colored pictures may not be new, our technology represents a significant leap forward. It's not just about still images - we've created a way to capture full-color moving pictures. That's unprecedented."
I finish my pitch, but Louis's face remains impassive. Clearly, he's not easily impressed.
"You see, Mr. Morningstar," Louis begins, his tone patronizing, "we have to consider various factors for the production of these colored cameras. The manufacturing cost, the marketing, and of course, since it's a colored camera, the price would be significantly higher than black-and-white models." He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "We'd be risking a considerable amount of money, and we don't even know if these colored cameras will sell. So what I've offered - the licensing rights, the royalties? It's already very reasonable."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes again. Instead, I nod along, feigning understanding. Sometimes, you have to let them talk themselves out.
"Whether it'll sell or not isn't the question, Mr. Bell," I counter, my voice calm but firm. "I'm confident it will sell and become the new standard for the picture industry."
Louis strokes his chin, a hint of curiosity breaking through his skepticism. "How so?"
I take a sip of wine, allowing a small smile to play on my lips. "Didn't you see the colored film I've recorded with my camera?" I ask, savoring the moment. "Just an hour ago, this film premiered and received a ten-minute standing ovation. This film will be the best marketing for the colored camera because it's made such a strong impression."
"Hmm..." Louis raises an eyebrow, but then drops a bombshell. "I'm sorry, Mr. Morningstar, but I haven't actually seen the film you made with that camera of yours."
I nearly choke on my wine. "You haven't seen it?"
Louis nods, completely unabashed. "Yes. I've heard about the film from my business partners who watched it - they said it was good. But I don't care. All that matters to me is that the film was in color."
I set down my glass, my appetite gone. "If you haven't watched the film, then we have nothing to discuss. You can't understand how much this film will impact the colored camera market." I stand, ready to leave. "And I certainly won't agree to your offer."
Louis frowns, realizing he's losing control of the situation. "Wait, Mr. Morningstar," he says hurriedly. "I don't really think a demon- cough, a film, whether it's as good as they say, will really affect the sales-"
I can't help but chuckle as I turn to leave. "That's exactly why you need to see the film first. When you've done that, then we can meet again to discuss this properly."
As I walk away, I can feel Louis's eyes boring into my back. He underestimated me, underestimated my film.
I watch the arrogant, trashy prince strut out of the restaurant, my blood boiling. "If not for the fact that your colored camera is protected by Global Copyright laws, I'd just copy the whole damn thing," I mutter under my breath.
A wave of humiliation washes over me. To be dismissed so casually by an infamous, exiled prince... it's almost too much to bear.
I scoff at the thought of his precious film making any real difference in camera sales. As if I have time to watch some demon's vanity project. I'm Louis Bell, for heaven's sake. I have better things to do with my time.
That damn prince is stubborn, but soon he won't be so--
My internal rant is interrupted by a flash of white on the table. A piece of paper, presumably left behind by that ex-prince. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I reach for it.
As I read, my jaw clenches:
"If Impact Electronics can't make a decision by tomorrow, I'll have little to lose. There are other companies, rivals of Impact, willing to acquire the license for my technologies. I'm sure some of them watched my film and are prepared to make a good offer. -Yours Truly, Arthur Morningstar."
Anger surges through me. I crumple the paper and toss it aside, my mind racing. The audacity of this demon, trying to play hardball with me!
But... what if he's not bluffing? What if our competitors have seen this film and are ready to pounce? Can I really risk losing this opportunity over my pride?
I grit my teeth, coming to a decision I never thought I'd make. "Fine, Morningstar," I growl. "If that's how you want to play it, I'll watch your damn film. But it better be worth my time."
I arrive at the festival, ready to get this over with, only to be met with an unexpected obstacle. Newest update provided by novel[f]ire.net
"I'm sorry, but we're sold out for the next screening of this film tonight," the receptionist says apologetically. "Perhaps you'd like to reserve a ticket for tomorrow's screening?"
I blink in surprise. "Already sold out? The film just premiered an hour ago."
The receptionist gives me a sheepish smile. "I apologize, but the film is unexpectedly popular..."
"Must be because it's the first colored film," I mutter under my breath. Sighing, I nod. "Alright. Save me a ticket for tomorrow's screening."
It's inconvenient, but what choice do I have? I need to see this film if I'm going to negotiate with that exiled prince effectively.
The next day, I arrive at the theater to find it packed. I have to admit, I'm impressed by the turnout.
Clearly, the novelty of a colored film is a powerful draw.
As I settle into my seat, I can't help but think that even if the story is mediocre, the colored aspect alone will attract attention. Maybe that exiled prince was right about the colored camera being the next big thing - but that was always predictable.
I only haggled with him to save money. As president of the Impact Electronics branch in the Anatolia continent, it's my job to maximize profits and minimize risks.
The lights dim, and "The Demonfather" begins. I watch with little expectation, still convinced that the color is the film's only real selling point.
Three hours later, I leave the theater in a daze, my mind reeling. This film... it's not just good. It's phenomenal. Possibly the best film I've ever seen.
Suddenly, I remember why I'm here. Arthur's request. I glance at my watch and curse under my breath. I need to move fast.
As I hurry out of the theater, my mind is racing. I need to make Arthur an offer he can't refuse. Because if I don't, someone else will. And I'll be damned if I let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
The irony isn't lost on me. I came here expecting to humor a delusional prince. Instead, I've just witnessed the future of cinema. And now, I'm the one desperate to make a deal.