Page 13 of Dark Awakening: New World

"Good," Brandon said. "So, where does my expertise come in?"

"We need to stage their deaths. We are waiting to perform the funeral rites for the Kra-ell who perished in that pod, until the twins regain enough body mass to look like their fellow Kra-ell, and we want to film it. Aru will send the recording to his commander, and ultimately the evidence will reach the intended audience, meaning the Eternal King. It is essential for the king to be convinced that everyone inside the pod is dead. The problem is that Anumati tech will immediately recognize digital or computer manipulation. We need to do this the old-fashioned way, with movie magic. We will probably also use Bridget's poison trick to induce a death-like state for the twins, but adding a convincing funeral pyre would help."

He didn't need to explain why it was important for the Eternal King to think the twins were dead. That had been covered in a council meeting that Brandon had actually attended in person.

The media specialist chuckled. "These days, everything is done with CGI, but I know a few old timers who still remember how things used to be done before that. If they are still around, they are probably working for theme parks. They are a dying breed."

"How convincing can they make it look?"

Brandon shrugged. "For regular moviegoers, they can make it very convincing. I don't know if they can fool superior technology, though. Perhaps you should think about a better solution that will not require movie magic."

"Like what?"

"I can't think of something off the top of my head, but I'll give it some thought. When do you need to do this?"

Kian was about to answer when Shai walked in with a tray of coffees and a bag of pastries.

"Here you go, gentlemen." Shai put the tray and the bag down on the conference table, took one of the paper cups, and turned around. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Thank you," Kian said, and so did Brandon.

Kian picked up one of the cups and took a sip. "The twins are not camera-ready yet. They are no longer as emaciated as they were when we brought them in, but they are still very thin and pallid. In contrast, the dead Kra-ell look healthy because their bodies did not eat themselves and were perfectly preserved in the sealed stasis chambers. The twins also lost most of their hair, and it will not grow as fast as it would have if they were physically well. Regrowing hair is not their bodies' top priority while they rebuild weakened muscles and organs that were on the verge of collapse."

Brandon leaned forward. "We can get creative with wigs and maybe some subtle prosthetics to fill out their features. Careful lighting and camera work can hide imperfections as well."

Kian smiled. "I'm glad to see you getting excited about the production. You've always loved the creative side of the business."

To Kian's surprise, Brandon's expression turned serious. "I still do, but I reached a point where I can no longer stomach the rest. I'm done with Hollywood."

Kian blinked. "What happened? You used to boast about beating the sharks in their own infested waters."

Brandon had been instrumental in propagating the clan's narrative through films and television. Equal human rights independent of race, gender, and religion had been an uphill battle that owed its success in no small part to the councilman in charge of informing and enlightening human culture through media.

Brandon ran a hand through his hair. "The industry has changed dramatically in recent years. It's becoming increasingly difficult for us to exert our influence in the ways we once did."

Kian raised an eyebrow, prompting Brandon to continue.

"The rise of streaming services, the consolidation of major studios, the shift in focus to woke issues, and the influx of high finance—all led to lesser focus on good storytelling," Brandon explained. "Writers, the very people we used to work closely with to shape narratives, are being marginalized with less creative control and lower pay."

"Surely, that makes them more susceptible to our influence?" Kian countered.

Brandon shook his head. "Not when they're constantly worried about their next paycheck or jumping from project to project without fully understanding the bigger picture. And don't get me started on the obsession with remakes and seemingly perpetual franchises. It's limiting the scope of stories being told."

Kian's brow furrowed. "I see. So, what's the solution?"

"Social media. This is where modern narratives are being shaped, and it's where the public attention has shifted to." Brandon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Platforms like InstaTock are shaping culture faster than any blockbuster movie ever could or did. We can reach millions instantly, without the bureaucracy, financial constraints, and the big egos of Hollywood."

Kian considered the implications. The clan had always adapted to changing times, and this shift seemed particularly significant.

Not for the first time, he wondered how much longer they could maintain their influence hidden in an increasingly connected world.

"Very well," he said. "Whether it's a silver screen or a smartphone screen, our goal remains the same—to guide humanity away from the shadows." He didn't add that it was growing increasingly more difficult lately.

Kian had a strong feeling that their archenemy had made a secret move on the eternal chessboard game they had been playing and that he was getting ahead of the clan. Wars were once again sprouting everywhere, human rights were diminishing, and darkness was once again spreading, but this time, it was happening at an alarming pace.

"I'm glad that you are so understanding about it." Brandon sighed. "I'm so fed up that I'm selling my condo in Brentwood and moving to the village full-time. I need to hit the reset button and devise a new strategy."

"What do you have in mind?" Kian asked.