Stardom is a road that can lead to the darkest of deals, isn't it?
A short excerpt from the award winning film 'A Dance With the Devil', which recently premiered on July 15th, 1988, at the 'The Eye Of The Portlands Film Festival' in Three Portlands to thunderous applause. Director Antonio De La Rosa has already been offered movie deals from many high profile studios within the anomalous community, including the host of the event: Glass Veil Pictures.
A woman sits on a wooden floor, her legs crossed. She begins to chant, calling out for someone below to hear her plea. Candles flicker around her, with the camera turning to focus on her shadow against the wall, two crosses that have been turned over making it appear as if horns are growing out of the top of her head. The camera keeps its focus as the chanting continues, the shadow flickering and moving as the candles burn out of frame.
After a few more moments, the camera returns back to the woman, flickering flames glowing brighter. Her breath freezes in the air, the mist barely caught by the camera. It moves closer to her, positioning over her shoulder to reveal a sigil carved into the floor, smoke beginning to flow out of it. The woman glances to the camera for a moment, before going back to the chant, sweat beading down her face.
A black furred hand appears from the shadowy mist over the sigil, its claws digging down into the wood as it begins pulling itself up, horns now making their way through. The camera pulls back, and the woman hesitates before calling out.
Woman: O-oh dark one, listen to my plea and obey! Obey!
The horns keep moving upward, now rising over the woman, and she screams.
Laughter. That's all Antonio can remember from last night. The laughter of the audience as his film, the one he'd worked on for months, the one he'd poured heart, soul, and a glass full of literal blood into, was completely and utterly dismissed by its audience. Oh, he had gotten praise and celebration, sure. People came to him to say how they had never seen anything funnier, how they needed to know where he had found such an awful looking yet somehow still real werewolf. Even his heroes joined in on the laughter. They all thought it was a parody, or a horror-comedy. Not a single one understood the true intent behind the film.
He also knows none of them will remember it in a week. There's a good reason comedies aren't as popular as other genres within this community. There's only so much one can do to make the anomalous funny before it becomes stale. Though even then it didn't matter, because he didn't write a damn comedy. It was horror. It was horror and he fucked it all up.
He has another film he submitted to be played tomorrow, for the section of the festival dedicated to true anomalies; films where the anomalous is untamed and let free, where the director puts themselves and their actors in true danger. He's tempted to head over to the planners, tell them to skip it. It would cause a ruckus, certainly, but that didn't matter, a part of him wants them to have to plan around him. Perhaps they'd notice he did it on purpose. For some reason, that thought brings a small smile to his face.
He leans against his chair, deciding against it, at least not tonight. The hotel he's staying at doesn't have a working landline in his room, and he isn't going to go all the way to reception just for the chance to be told their phone isn't working either. If that happened, he'd have to make the trip back to the festival grounds himself.
His thoughts return to the cheers of men like Michael White, the man who coined the term Pararomance, and the laughter of Sarah McCain, the woman who made him wish to become a star of film, even before he found his true calling behind the Veil. Then the sounds of those parrots surrounding them, only laughing and cheering because their friends were. He felt almost a fool for believing in his work.
This was his one chance to make a name for himself and his work. This was his one shot and he blew i-
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Antonio groans. He explicitly told reception that he didn't wish to be bothered, that he wanted to be left alone tonight. He lets the knocking continue for a minute more, waiting to see if they'll eventually go away. When it's clear he'll either have to answer or keep waiting, he gets up off his ass.
The knob twists to the side, and he opens the door to a Sidhe towering over him, the well-dressed man with a missing tip of his ear staring down with a scowl on his face. Antonio notices a lit cigarette pinned by two of the brute's fingers, and shrinks away ever so slightly.
"Someone wants to see you, Mr. De La Rosa." He says, deep voice not trying in the slightest to hide the intimidation behind it all. Antonio hates the way he's attracted to that voice.
"Everyone wants to see me tonight. I know exactly why he wants to see me, so tell him to get excited about tomorrow." Antonio closes his eyes and sighs, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he moves to close the door. He never hears the click though, as something blocks the door from completing its one and only job.
"I'm afraid Mr. Violanti won't be here tomorrow, so he'd prefer to see you tonight, Mr. De La Rosa." The Sidhe nudges the door open further, and Antonio is forced to quickly remind himself that he ate a tub of popcorn topped with chocolate ice cream tonight, while this man looks like he came out the womb brawling a tiger.
He steps away, allowing the towering man to finish opening the door, and then promptly stepping away from it.
"A car is waiting for you outside of the lobby, Mr. De La Rosa."
"What, not going to escort me?"
"I was simply tasked with making sure you knew the urgency of Mr. Violanti's summon, Mr. De La Rosa."
A surge of words climb up Antonio's throat, ready to chew the man out and force him to accompany him to the car, but the words don't escape. Instead, he swallows down his feelings and begins walking out the door, sending a curse his way under his breath. An old curse passed down through De La Rosa to De La Rosa, one his grandmother taught him back when he was finally starting to get out of needing diapers. He sincerely hopes that man likes having a successful harvest come winter.
The elevator ride is excruciatingly slow, which is strange for a hotel that only has three floors and truly no need of an elevator. Antonio chalked it up to weird magic, like the kind friends told him infested every part of Three Portlands. He begins to believe those people would be good
clients if he ever went into the bridge selling business.
He looks and sees a cigarette lying on the floor of the elevator. It's days like this one that made him wish his father had never scared him out of ever even letting one of those sticks near his mouth. Comforting, loyal, and didn't mind being used up; just like he likes his men. These things were practically made for him, yet he despised them.
Relief washes over him as the ding finally comes, and he gets to walk into the lobby, promptly rushing towards the entrance. He'd rather not feel a temptation to ask if they have a phone. He feels the eyes of the woman at reception behind him, but he refuses to quiet his stomping feet to accommodate her. That means weakness, and he refuses to allow this weakness before meeting this Mr. Violanti.
The limo is sleek and painted in mixtures of gold and black, the moonlight shining off what Antonio begins to think is real gold. This Mr. Violanti had no problems showing off, that is for certain. Antonio can almost envision the man now, and every word he wishes to say, every drip of venom out of his mouth as he wishes to sing his praises and love for Antonio's craft.
It takes all of Antonio's kindness, patience, and sheer curiosity to not just walk back up the lobby and take the stairs up to his room. He is tired of dealing with idiots and morons who couldn't tell the shining skyscrapers from the shit encrusted slums. Still, he walks forward, a small part of him giddy for a reason he is almost ashamed of.
Not even one of those fancy door opening people, which means he has to open the damn thing himself.
Smoke. That is the first thing that Antonio sees as he opens the limo door. It covers his eyes and fills his lungs as it snakes its way out of the vehicle and onto the street. Antonio truly thinks he's going to hack up a lung. He doesn't believe he'll ever understand how a man can live a life filled with this poison in his lungs.
Despite it all, he still makes the decision to climb into the limousine. The seating is as comfortable as he thought it would be, his body pressing against the soft cushioning and allowing him a moment of relaxation within the heat and suffocation around him. He lets out a sigh, wondering when the car would start rolling and he'd be sent on the path towards this Mr. Whatever-his-name-was.
The smoke keeps fading away, easing out of the car and into the night of the Three Portlands, floating away into the sky and beyond. Antonio closes his eyes, deciding a nap would be in order. This is his chance to collect his thoughts and put all his complaints in a row.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. De La Rosa."
Antonio is brought out of his world of comfort and back into reality, his eyes opening like he has just been abruptly awoken out of a sweet dream. The smoke still lingers, but now he could make out a figure on the other side of the limousine. Tall, relaxed, and wearing a suit Antonio could tell from a glance he could never afford. Now he at least knew the limousine and body guard weren't bluffs or rentals. His face still mostly obscured by the smoke, but Antonio could see a wide grin striking through the obfuscation.
He would almost call the man cute if he isn't currently about to explode. Antonio opens his mouth, a roar working its way up his throat.
"Why the fuck did you order me down here at one in the morning, who the hell are you?" Lorenzo says, letting out a content sigh as he watches Antonio.
Antonio's roar dies down, slinking back down his throat. He closes his mouth and stays silent, eyes locking on the man who just read his mind and mimicked him before he could even speak.
"Predictable as your films. My name is Lorenzo Violanti, and I believe I might have to take back my earlier statement. It's not a pleasure to meet you at all, Mr. De La Rosa."
His grin morphs into a small smile, and Antonio is finally allowed a clear look at the face attached to it. Jet black hair smoothed back, eyes that feel as if they were peeling Antonio apart layer by layer, and that damn smile. He isn't sure what it is, but something makes Antonio feel uneasy, like he needs to get out of here now.
The door he had entered from is suddenly slammed shut, and Antonio feels his heart skip a beat or three. Another door opens, and into the limo slides the Sidhe that had originally come with Lorenzo's summons. He doesn't so much as look at Antonio, instead glancing towards Lorenzo. He nods, and the Sidhe knocks on the glass seperating the drivers section from the rest of the car.
Antonio can feel the car lurch forward and begin rolling down the street. He is trapped now, with a man who looks like he could snap him in two, and another who made him feel uneasy just looking at him. Lorenzo reaches into his pocket, bringing out a cigar and a lighter, offering them to Antonio.
"I don't smoke." He says bluntly, swallowing down that temptation gnawing within his stomach. He is a man. He is a stronger man than this Lorenzo. Whatever he wants, or whatever insults he plans to throw his way, he will not let them eat at him.
"Shame." Lorenzo simply says in response, handing his Sidhe companion a cigarette. He takes it, lighting it and taking in a deep breath. Smoke slithers out between his lips as he sighs.
"Now then, Antonio." Antonio sinks back into his chair. No more Mr. De La Rosa? "Onto business. I caught a peek at your latest movie, and I must say, I'm quite disappointed. The poster made it look so thrilling. I will give you this though, using a house haunted by a goat-man is an inspired choice. I don't even think our best and brightest could have thought up that one."
Antonio pauses. A goat-man? That wasn't the film that played last night. That was-
"How did you-?"
"Money, obviously. Something you must be short on, considering how little care you put into trying to make your film period accurate. Set in the late 1500's, yet using revolutionary war reenactment clothing? I understand it's much cheaper, but really, Antonio?"
Antonio opens his mouth, a hand clenching into a fist as he screams out, or at least wishes to scream out. He's stopped dead in his tracks again though, watching as the smoke slithering out of the Sidhe's mouth trails above Lorenzo. He swears he can see horns behind the smoke, and suddenly he feels a chill bite against his skin and surge through his blood.
"Do tell me, why a devil film? You know those are overdone, right?"
"If the greats can do it, why can't I?" Antonio isn't sure why he answers so honestly. Lorenzo doesn't deserve honesty. He scratches at his skin, feeling a rash coming on.
"Predictable plot, boring actors, though I can't blame you much on that front considering your money problems — but all those cliches?" Lorenzo takes out his own cigarette, lighting it and breathing in for far longer than Antonio thought any man could. He finally lets out the puff of smoke, making certain to take it at his own leisure.
"If you simply called upon me to insult my work, then I'd like to be let out here." Antonio barely squeaks out, stealing a glance at the shining towers of Three Portlands as they cruise by. He'd much rather take the long walk back to his hotel than stay here another moment. At least then he could be among his equals, rather than these creatures. He hesitates to call Lorenzo human.
"Ah, apologies, I have a tendency to overshare. Now, I despised the film, but a close acquaintance of mine, well he was quite charmed to say the least. Well, charmed is a strong word I suppose, but he saw something in you that I must admit I simply cannot." His smile returns, the last of the smoke leaking out between those teeth like a forked tongue. He snaps his fingers, and the Sidhe reaches into his suit, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. He slides it towards Antonio, and he sees that it's blank, with a simple dotted line at its bottom.
"You sign, and we make you a success. You'll get everything you need to make every vision of yours true and real, all to your heart's content. You'll be a household name in any place of your choosing. In return, we simply ask that you film anything we ask you to, anywhere we ask you to, and anywhen we ask you to."
Antonio stares down at the paper, and it stares back. A pit opens within his stomach, and he feels as if his heart and soul were falling into it. He's heard tale after tale and generation after generation falling for these ploys and traps. He remembers his warnings from his mother to never trust something that seems too good to be true. He remembers the stories his grandfather told in the dark, warning him of the creatures that lurk within. He glances at Lorenzo again, his smile still wide, yet a warmth now behind it. He is a mirror image of those darkest of tales.
"And my soul?" He simply asks, and Lorenzo and the Sidhe suddenly look like they are about to burst. Laughter fills the limo from Lorenzo, and the Sidhe could no longer hide his smile. It's almost enough to almost make Antonio join in despite himself.
"Oh, Antonio, your soul is yours, truly. I can't believe you'd think that I'm…anyways, anyways. No no, it's all as I've said, truly." Lorenzo snaps his fingers, and the words begin appearing on the paper. It's as he said, success for a simple promise of him being behind the camera at their behest. Marshall, Carter, & Darke.
Antonio's mind went back to the laughter, to the praise that demeaned him more than held him high. The smiles on their faces as they insulted him. He remembers Lorenzo's words mere minutes ago. He will stand toe to toe with the greats, he will have the stars they earned. He will show his vision to the world.
He signs, and the car screeches to a halt.
"I believe this is your stop." Lorenzo claps, and the door opens to reveal the entrance to the hotel. Antonio looks out and simply shakes his head. He looks at Lorenzo, who jerks his head to the side, and Antonio begins climbing out.
"Actually, do wait a moment, Mr. De La Rosa." Antonio stops, and turns back to see Lorenzo offering him a single cigarette and a lighter. He takes it, and the door closes as he finally leaves, driving off into the night. Antonio can't help but to stare as the limo turns past a corner and dissappears from sight.
He looks back at the hotel, only now noticing how large it is compared to himself. The pit within himself opens back up, refusing to close, the piece of himself that was once there now gone. Antonio can barely breathe, he can barely move, and so he just stands.
He wonders if its always been so cold this time of year, or if this is what its like to be a walking corpse. A man without a soul is a dead man, yet a piece of him deep within feels more alive than ever. This piece knows that tonight was a special night, that the praise he desires is coming his way.
He smiles, even as the pit within gnaws at him. He brings the cigar to his lips, lighting it and letting the smoke fill that hole. Antonio is quite excited for tomorrow.
