"Action!" I called from the director's chair, also my hover chair.
Darth Nepharia strolled through the doorway onto the set which was made to look like a restaurant kitchen. Jon followed her in, his agile eyes scanning the room. Nepharia walked over to the still body laying sprawled on the floor. She crouched down, leaned forward and felt his neck. She looked up to Jon and said, "He's dead."
"That would explain all the brains splattered against the wall," Jon said.
"Do you think we'll be able to catch the killer?" asked Nepharia.
Jon hung his head at a dramatic angle. "Fortunately for us . .," Jon paused to dramatically put on his sunglasses, " . . we now have brains to spare." As Jon spoke the last word he dramatically tuned on his heel and walked off camera.
"Cut!" I yelled. "Good work, everyone. Let's do one more. This time, Nepharia, I'd like you to lean in a little more towards the camera."
"Why?" she asked.
"Er, dramatic effect?"
"Fine," she answered with a shrug.
While the scene was being reset, I walked over to the second unit, taping across the lot. Margeaux with an X from the network was there waiting.
"Ah, Professor Xavier," she said in a stiff, corporate drone kind of way. "Oh, I didn't realize . . that is . . your wheel chair . ."
"Yes, that was a sprained ankle. I'm feeling better."
"Wonderful," the studio executive said. "So, which scene is this?"
The set was dressed as a living room. Several cats were roaming around. "This is the killer's home," I explained. "Evil people always have cats. These are the same cats we're using in the viral video to promote the show."
"Excellent," she said. "And what's going to happen in this scene?"
"The killer will enter his home and hide the murder weapon in the one place no police person would ever check - the cat liter box. We never see the killer's face though, to build suspense to the end."
"And how does the show end?" she asked.
"On that set over there, at the funeral. In fact, I think we're almost ready to shoot now."
After Jon and Nepharia finished their previous shoot, they changed and walked over to the funeral set. We three took our places off set while the other actors and extras stood around the open coffin. "Action," I called and the extras started walking past the casket. A woman was crying over the body. Jon and I walked over to her.
"Mrs. Pilottee?" I said, dramatically flipping open my wallet to reveal a non-descript badge. "Hannibal, CSI. We have uncovered your husband's murderer."
The actress looked shocked. "That's right, ma'am," Jon continued. "It was simple really, once we uncovered the motive. You see your husband had become involved in an illegal kitten juggling syndicate. He had been feeling guilty about the nature of the business though and was about to rat out his partner."
"And that would be you, Escobar!" I said accusingly, as I whirled dramatically towards an actor standing nearby, pointing my index finger.
The actor suddenly turned and started to run towards the door. Nepharia moved in front of him, drawing her lightsaber. She was about to flick it on and cut him in half when I shouted, telepathically, no. Instead she kicked him in the face, hard. The actor went flying back, crashing on the ground. Blood poured from his nose. Jon and I looked at each other and shrugged. I turned to the camera and said, dramatically of course, "I guess our killer couldn't . . face the music."