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Rush Job
Rush Job

Rush Job

“Well, this is completely unprecedented,” Scott observed, the others staying silent.

Director Bernays scanned the table, seeing only distress and the smug smirk that Diana always seemed to have. He started walking toward the window, “Paris, issue a standup order for all personnel.”

“Yes, director,” the computer system said, its speech program nearly flawless.

The meeting room was located at the top of the admin tower that sat in the middle of the facility. The walls were covered in awards, placards, and commemorative photos, all of it a celebration of the state-owned studio’s achievements. The pleasing aroma of coffee beans mixed with the chemical odor of energy drinks.

The director tried to gather his thoughts, seeking inspiration as he gazed out the window. From here he could see the stages and prop warehouses, along with a great view of the capital’s skyline. The city was still fast asleep. Between the skyscrapers, rows of streetlights formed a grid that ran far out of sight. The sky was a black void, the only light coming from airplanes as they streamed into the airport.

Scott pointed out the problem, “They aren’t going to be happy. This is the third time this month that we’ve had to do an emergency episode. And we still need to make the anti-fraternization special, along with the promo for the 2040 Olympics.”

“Those things can wait. Right now, we need to focus on the task at hand.”

Robert, his most likely successor, pointed out another problem, “We did a traitor episode not that long ago, when Councilman Rogan was arrested.”

The director didn’t even try to hide his annoyance, “We are just going to have to do another one. Paris, bring an image of the commander of the Central Security Service up on the holoprojector.”

A man appeared. He didn’t match the director’s expectations. The CSS leader was distinguished by the features that he lacked. He wore no eye patch, sported no scars, no psychopathic stare. Instead, he had warm eyes and a plain face, he could be cast as anyone’s father.

“Damn, none of our villains look anything like him,” one of the writers observed.

“It’s okay, one of the stunt doubles is very similar. We will have to make a character for him,” the director said, before stating that they still needed to get the story figured out. This was followed by much grumbling.

A dozen writers and PR experts sat around the table. Most of them were older men, a few were hungry young up and comers. They were all sleepy and frustrated, glancing around the room with tired eyes, desperate for some kind of inspiration. Except for Diana, who sat there silently, the wheels in her head could be seen turning with ruthless efficiency.

She was still rather young, hadn’t been out of school for that long. Her frizzy black hair was kept long. She wore her skirts short, kept the top buttons of her shirts undone. But the thing that always stood out to him was the way that she did everything with an I’m young and will never die confidence, or maybe it was the confidence of someone that had found themselves quickly rising to the top. And it was for a good reason, her unconventional ideas had gotten them out of more than a few tight spots.

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A writer raised a boney finger, “Captain Order should uncover the plot while acting as a regular citizen. The fact that he is doing the right thing should allow him to find out about the bad guy.”

Scott added onto this, “We need to make sure that when the new bad guy is first introduced, we really see him at his worst.”

The director smiled, glad that the engine was getting warmed up, “Yes, Yes, that is good. Perhaps his theme is decay. The decay of a just and great civilization.”

“That is good, the symbol on his costume needs to look similar to the CSS logo.”

The director’s phone went off, he switched on the speaker, “Yes?”

“We’ve got a problem; we can’t find our lead!”

“They are all supposed to stay inside the building, we are at recall level one!” the director growled, “Where could he have gone?”

“Probably to go visit a lady friend,” someone suggested.

Now the director’s words were soaked in venom, “We would have brought her here. This is inexcusable, he will be shown that he’s not above punishment.”

“Do we have anyone that can pass for Captain Order? Maybe one of the stunt doubles?” Robert asked.

“No, not even under the mask,” the director said, watching a patrol car turn onto a street which was lined with massive banners.

Scott stated the obvious, “Without a lead, we don’t have a show.”

Diana reached into a pocket, producing an ornate silver pill case, “Well, we could try something different,” she proclaimed, before popping a little orange tablet into her mouth.

“Okay, give us your pitch,” the director said warily.

“We know that the chief of police has an elite tactical unit, he used them in that episode with the hostages. So, the new villain, the stand in for the CSS commander, he is the head of that unit. They launch a coup, capture the chief and the hero off screen. In steps Mr. Chaos.”

“That is out of the question, Mr. Chaos is the show’s primary villain, he can’t be the one that saves the day.”

Scott looked at the director, shifting slightly, “He is extremely popular, especially with the youth.”

Diana finished his thought, “The ones that will be expected to storm CSS buildings in two days.”

“We have a show where the villain is more popular than the hero,” the director lamented, “Can the police station sets be modified in time?”

“Yes, shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“So, we have Mr. Chaos rile up the teens, hell, make it anyone that feels like they have gotten a raw deal. They get pushed one step too far by the commander, and Mr. Chaos steps in to organize them.”

Robert spoke up, “If this is going to work, we will need to persuade the audience that the commander is bad. The sets from the first few episodes are still in the database, the ones were the city is dirty and grey. We could recycle them, have time pass under the rule of the villain, show what life would be like.”

The director gave the order, wide awake at last. He brought up a live feed of the set. Crew members moved around, positioning the neon green blocks that the digital set would be built on top of. A table was set up with snacks and drinks. Robert contacted the workshop, asking for an update. They reported that they had most of the 3D printing done for the new villain’s outfit.

The actors started trickling in from the makeup and costume departments. Characters that ranged from normally dressed citizens to cops to masked weirdos, wandered around, chatting and reading from electronic tablets.

There he was. He needed no makeup, severe burns had tightened up the skin on the soldier turned actor’s face, twisting it into a permanent grin. Mechanical eyes scanned the room, looking for opportunities. The character’s immaculate business suit contrasted perfectly with his ghoulish appearance. But all of that was secondary. The real draw was his cold confidence, the sense that he was completely in control of himself and could do anything that he wanted to do. Mr. Chaos, it was him, there in the flesh. This was an absolute truth, as the actor had given himself over to the role completely.

They spent the night writing. Ideas bounced around the table, some rejected, others eagerly devoured and refined, before being polished and perfected. The scenes were sent over to the stage, which was then prepped, while the actors rehearsed.

As the filming wrapped up the director made a decision, Diana would be his successor.

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