….
The city was alive like any other day, everyone with their own thing to do…
But for many, one plan stood above the rest: catching a movie.
This weekend, however, wasn't just any movie weekend. It was a battleground.
Two major films were dropping on the same day. A head-to-head release, something not uncommon in Hollywood, but this one carried more heat than most.
Because this wasn't just a box office clash.
The media had already framed it as a revenge match.
Regal vs. Pixy Studios.
Only the second time these two had crossed paths at the box office, but the sting from the first encounter still lingered, especially for Pixy.
There wasn't much history between them, but the last outcome had left a mark. One that hadn't been forgiven… or forgotten.
What turned a routine studio competition into an industry feud, though, was a single interview.
Brad Carter, Pixy Studios' Script Review Coordinator, had taken the bait.
At a press junket, a journalist casually asked about the upcoming clash:
"What are your thoughts on the simultaneous release of [Death Note] and [Mastor]?"
It was a harmless question, open-ended, easy to deflect.
But Brad didn't deflect.
He smirked, waved it off, and answered with sharp arrogance.
"Not even worth a conversation." He said. "One is a major studio production, the other is a no-name director's second attempt at relevance. Indie vanity projects aren't competition."
That single quote set the industry ablaze.
Debates sparked across forums, podcasts, and social media feeds. Fans picked sides. Analysts weighed in. The narrative had shifted.
Regal, when asked the same question days later, handled it with measured indifference.
"These things happen. Let the audience decide."
But even with Regal's restraint, the damage had been done.
So instead, he used the moment to shift the narrative - from "Should I watch a movie this weekend?" to "Which one should I watch?"
And while this kind of attention technically benefited both films, Regal didn't mind.
After all, he knew where the momentum was already leaning.
Meanwhile, Pixy Studios tried to spin Brad's comment, bury it under PR corrections and redirect the media cycle, but social media wasn't so easy to silence.
Clips circulated. Reactions surged. Hashtags trended.
#DeathNoteVsMastor
#IndieDoesntMeanInvisible
Suddenly, this wasn't just about films, it was about pride, image, and legacy.
So this weekend wasn't just 'interesting'.
And the public was ready for the show.
….
Los Angeles, London, Australia, China… and even Tokyo.
Yes, even Tokyo.
Unlike most indie films, and even many mainstream Hollywood blockbusters that focus primarily on Western audiences during their initial run, [Death Note] was premiering globally. Subtitled in English or Japanese where needed, it was released in Japan on the same day as the U.S.
It wasn't a dubbed version. Just subs.
But it didn't matter.
Nevertheless, wherever [Death Note] was premiering, a distinct tension filled the air. People lined up outside theaters, chattering in hushed voices.
Some came with expectations. Others with skepticism.
But no one truly knew what they were about to witness.
….
Red Studios had booked out an entire luxury theater downtown, velvet seats, gold trim, and a screen the size of a city wall, for the cast, crew, and industry insiders.
Regal stood near the entrance, dressed in a sharp black suit, as guests filed in.
He didn't say much. Tonight, he wasn't going to pitch or sell. The film would speak for itself.
He eventually walked in…
Up front, Stephen Jr. and Timothée, the film's leads, fidgeted nervously. Fingers drumming, knees bouncing.
"This is insane." Stephen murmured to Kristen the female lead sitting beside him. "I feel like I am about to die."
Kristen smirked. "Or maybe… you are already dead."
"Come on, don't mix hands with the media." Stephen let out a dry laugh, then stood and made his way back toward Regal.
"Are you nervous?" He asked quietly.
Regal didn't miss a beat. "No."
….
Soon, the theater was getting packed. The cast took their seats in the front row.
Regal, however, chose a spot near the back, he wanted to observe… to see the audience's reaction.
To watch the crowd, study their responses, catch the small tells that revealed whether the film was truly working.
If it were possible, he would have preferred to stand by the upper exit, or even in the projector room. The perfect place to see it all.
But since that wasn't an option, he had to make do with this.
As he walked over to the seat, he noticed someone was already there.
It was Gwendolyn.
The moment she saw him, she gave a slow wave, gesturing to the empty spot beside her.
He walked over without hesitation… Leaving his hand to the lady beside him, letting her do with it whatever she pleased.
The lights dimmed. Silence fell over the theater.
And then, Death Note began.
Across the World - Theaters Filled with Different Eyes.
…
Shinjuku, Tokyo.
A theater in Shinjuku, a group of young people entered with wide eyes and excited faces.
The film [Death Note] had managed to generate a decent buzz across Japan.
Much of that excitement came from the setting itself.
Anyone who had seen the trailer, and caught that eerie glimpse of Ryuk calling himself a Shinigami, could tell that the story was clearly drawn from Japanese folklore.
And surprisingly, in all his interviews, Regal never shied away from the probing questions. He honored the truth, openly stating that Japanese culture had deeply inspired him.
He made it clear - this was a concept close to the hearts of the Japanese people. And that honesty earned him more than just curiosity, it earned respect.
While this may have been one of the first major representations of their culture in a Hollywood production, it was clear Regal had tried to do justice to the source.
So even if not everyone was sold, something had sparked in a few.
"I swear, if they mess this up—" One muttered.
"We have seen the trailer." Another replied. "It looks promising… but let's see if the execution holds up."
As the lights dimmed and the film began, they leaned in, skeptical, but ready to be proven wrong.
….
It's Chicago, USA.
A group of college students filed into a theater, none of them knowing much about [Death Note].
They had bought tickets because of the hype.
"So it's, like, a supernatural thriller?" One guy asked, sipping his soda.
His friend shrugged. "Something about a notebook that kills people."
"Man, I just hope it's not some edgy teenager crap."
They had no expectations, just popcorn and curiosity.
….
Sydney, Australia.
In a high-end private screening room, far from the usual moviegoer crowds, sat Michael Rowe, one of the most respected film critics in the industry.
He had seen it all, Hollywood blockbusters, hidden indie gems, and overhyped flops.
Leaning back in his chair, notebook in hand, he muttered.
"Let's see if this Regal guy really knows what he is doing." Tapping his pen against the page as the lights faded.
….
There is a small, dimly lit theater in downtown LA, a man who called himself Cassius took his seat near the back.
No one knew him. He wasn't a critic. He wasn't a frequent moviegoer. He didn't watch everything, only what caught his interest.
Cassius had a habit, he only watched movies alone. He never spoke during screenings. Never look at his phone or react too soon.
[Death Note] had drawn him in.
Maybe it was the haunting trailer. The cryptic imagery. Or that tagline that refused to leave his mind -[Not A Story Of A Hero].
Something about it pulled him here, though doubt lingered with every step.
What if it was just another empty promise? Another film where the protagonist's sins are washed away by a tragic backstory?
Would this be just another two-hour letdown?
He adjusted in his seat, angling for the perfect view.
Around him, the quiet hum of the crowd filled the room, a mix of anticipation and restrained hope.
Then, the lights dimmed. A hush fell.
No turning back now.
The screen flickered to life.
And as the opening sequence began, Cassius leaned forward, just slightly.
….
The first voice he heard made the hair on his neck stand on end.
Just four words, simple, yet chilling - "[The Land of Gods Of Death]".
The voice carried a strange, otherworldly weight. It was deep, gravelly, less spoken than summoned, as if echoing from somewhere far beyond the screen. Its presence was unsettling, ancient.
And so, the film began not with a bang, but with a whisper.
The screen remained pitch black as the voice continued, now a low, guttural murmur crawling through the dark.
"There is no heaven. No hell. Only the realm of gods who watch… and grow bored."
Then a thunderclap.
The screen exploded into a vision of a dark, endless wasteland. Massive structures of bone and twisted metal loomed over a desolate land. Skulls littered the ground.
And in the center of it all - Ryuk.
A grotesque, impossibly detailed CGI figure, perched on a throne of shattered hourglasses. His golden eyes glowed as he twirled a single apple in his clawed hand.
Cassius felt a slight chill for some reason…
The next sequence transitioned seamlessly.
A crack in the sky. A book tumbled through the air, pages fluttering.
L A.
Light Turner sat in class, staring out the window, his face unreadable. The world moved around him, students whispering, the hum of traffic, but he was detached.
A black notebook landed outside.
The camera lingered on it. Not in a dramatic, over-the-top way. Just enough to make it feel wrong.
Cassius smirked. Perfect cinematography.
When Light picked up the notebook, the film changed.
The sound design shifted, the world outside became muffled. His breath was the only thing heard.
The moment he wrote his first name, the music cut.
Silence.
Then, a distorted chuckle.
Cassius felt the energy shift in the theater. Even those who didn't know the story were locked in.
The rules of the book weren't shouted at by the audience. They were whispered, like secrets meant only for you.
His popcorn lay forgotten in his lap.
Within seconds, the movie had him by the throat.
The lighting was sharp, the framing claustrophobic.
Every sound, every flicker of the score, felt meticulously placed to unsettle.
Then the story began to twist.
As Ryuk appeared again.
Not suddenly. Not as a cheap jump scare.
Slowly.
A shadow stretching unnaturally. A voice, gravelly, amused, ancient. "I Have been waiting for you, Light Turner."
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
Author Note:
Visit Patreon to instantly access +1 chapter for free, available to Free Members as well.
For additional content, please do support me and gain access to +10 more chapters.
–> p@treon.com/OrgoWriters