AN: Fast paced but big. 3k words.
Last week, thanks to you all, I managed to hold the top 10 position. Let's go another week.
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[2 weeks later]
[Alien Shooting – Day 5]
Location: Set 3, Biological Chamber and Medical Bay
Status: Live Shoot
Time: 8:12 AM
The soundstage was dim, cold, and soaked in eerie green lighting. Fog hissed out from beneath the grated floor, coiling around the steel legs of the set. Overhead, massive hydraulic lights pulsed faintly, mimicking the subtle throb of an alien environment. Everything was in place.
Alex stood just outside the main shooting area, arms folded, headset around his neck, clipboard in one hand. His eyes scanned every inch of the scene. Props, lights, camera angles, wire rigs, safety points. He'd walked the set five times that morning. No margin for error.
Today was the day. The Kane scene. The Chestburster. The one that would either shake audiences or fall flat. He wouldn't allow the latter.
Scarlett walked by in full Ripley uniform, sweat strategically placed on her neck and brow. She paused, gave him a look.
"You checked that egg rig again?"
"Twice."
"Is it disgusting enough?"
He glanced at her with a dry smile. "Worse than your worst nightmare."
"Perfect."
He tapped his earpiece. "All units, quiet on set. Scene 27 prep. Kane entry sequence, go hot in 90 seconds."
Inside the chamber set, fog continued to build. The eggs stood in clusters: tall, veiny, and pulsing faintly with embedded lights that gave them the illusion of breathing. The centerpiece egg, rigged for the facehugger burst, glistened under the harsh green hue.
John, playing Kane, was already in position. His breathing was audible through the comms.
"Make it slow," Alex reminded him through the headset. "You're not exploring. You're discovering."
The first assistant director signaled.
"Rolling. Scene 27. Take one. Action."
John stepped forward, flashlight beam sweeping over the eggs. His gloved hand brushed one.
A hiss.
The top opened slowly, the petals peeling back like rotting flesh.
He leaned in.
Suddenly, the rig sprang.
The spider-like facehugger shot out in perfect form, wires snapping just right to mimic unnatural motion. It smashed into the helmet. John staggered back, screaming as the creature latched on. The crew watching the monitor winced involuntarily.
"Cut! Good. Reset for exterior shot. Lambert and Dallas in position," Alex said into his mic.
Ten minutes later, they were shooting the return to the Nostromo. Ripley stood at the control terminal, blocking the hatch door.
"I'm telling you, he stays outside. You don't break quarantine for sentiment."
"You cold bastard," Lambert shouted.
"I'm following protocol."
Ash appeared beside her.
"Open the door," he said flatly.
"No."
Ash hit the override.
The door opened. Kane was brought inside. The facehugger now clamped tightly to his face.
Alex stepped in during the lighting shift, checked the rig on the creature, then gave the girl in charge of the adjustment a nod. She adjusted the practical tubing connected to its legs.
"Make sure the breathing pulse stays subtle," Alex said. "It's alive, but just barely."
The next take started.
Inside the med bay, Ash and Ripley hovered over Kane, trying to get the creature off. Ash moved to cut part of the creature away.
A squirt of yellowish fluid hit his glove.
"Jesus, what is that?" Scarlett muttered, staying in character.
He dug in deeper, and this time, the acid test was triggered. The prosthetic blade hit the creature's blood vessel, and a burst of simulated acidic blood sprayed across the plexiglass barrier, instantly fizzling on contact.
"Pull back," Ash ordered. "It's burning through the floor."
Alex watched it drip through layered prop flooring, stopping just short of the lower-level wiring.
He grinned. "Perfect."
After a few more takes, the sequence was wrapped.
Later, Kane was in the medical bed, the creature now gone. The dead facehugger lay in a specimen jar nearby, curled like a crab.
Alex paced quietly near the camera.
The next sequence was everything.
Scene 32. Final meal. Kane's chest burst.
The crew sat at the table, laughing. Casual. Almost relieved. The illusion of normalcy.
"Scene 32. Take one. Action."
Kane took a bite, coughed. Laughed.
Suddenly, he lurched.
The table rattled. Plates flew.
He began to choke violently.
The crew rushed to his side, holding him down.
Then the blood and fluids sprayed with a cracking sound, splashing on almost everyone.
Everyone recoiled. Veronica Cartwright screamed for real. This wasn't in the rehearsal. Everyone was confused, but continued to act. They had no idea about the prosthetic, except for John.
John's prosthetic chest bulged once. Then again.
On the third hit, it ripped open, spraying blood everywhere.
The alien burst out, covered in slime and twitching animatronics, squealing as it jerked from Kane's chest cavity.
Everyone was about to hit it before, but Ash ordered them not to touch it. (Alex had a talk with him in private and he told Ian to keep his calm and gave him his dialogue and explained how he should react to the scene no matter what happens.)
The alien skittered across the table with a hiss.
Scarlett stared, frozen. Her reaction was completely raw. Her disgust wasn't acting.
"Cut!"
Everyone exhaled.
The set erupted into low cheers and claps. A few crew members shook their heads, faces pale.
Scarlett stumbled back and leaned on the wall.
"What the hell was that?" Veronica said as she walked over to the prop alien. It was slimy and gross.
"Hahaha! That was... Hell! I forgot to breathe for a moment," Ian laughed.
Scarlett wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumpsuit, blood and slime smeared across her jaw and neck. She stared at Alex, wide-eyed and panting.
"You did that on purpose!" she said, pointing at him with a trembling hand.
Alex didn't deny it. He just smirked, clipboard tucked under one arm, headset half-dangling from his shoulder.
"I said I wanted real reactions," he replied, calm as ever.
Veronica Cartwright stepped over a trail of fake intestines, her boots sticking slightly to the blood-slicked floor. "Jesus, Alex! That thing screeched at me! And moved like a damn rat on meth!"
Alex tilted his head, watching the reset crew begin to carefully lift the tiny animatronic alien off the table with tongs. It was still twitching, its motor pulsing erratically like it had a heartbeat.
"I upgraded the puppetry rig yesterday," he said. "Added jointed articulation and a sound burst synced to movement. Looks good, right?"
"Looks like my nightmares grew legs!" Veronica shot back, still half-laughing, half-horrified.
John sat on the floor, back against the bulkhead wall, chest rig still open. A technician kneeled beside him, pulling loose the clamps and tubing hidden under his shirt. John looked dazed.
"I knew something was coming," he muttered. "But holy hell, man. You didn't tell me there'd be pressure burst tubing in the fake lungs."
Alex walked over, offering him a hand. "Surprise adds flavor."
"That flavor is trauma," John muttered, letting himself be pulled up.
One of the assistant directors came over, wide-eyed and wiping his glasses clean. "That spray hit three cameras. We've got cleanup running, but playback's gold. Crew cam caught everything. Even the makeup girl screamed."
"Good," Alex said. "I want fear. Disgust. The kind that lingers."
Scarlett was still recovering near the wall, trying to pull strands of gelatin off her arm.
"I think I tasted kidney," she mumbled. "And maybe part of a spleen."
"You're welcome," Alex said without missing a beat.
She narrowed her eyes. "Remind me never to let you near a buffet."
The boom mic operator, a guy named Dave who'd been through every kind of shoot imaginable, shook his head as he walked past. "I did Vietnam movies. None of them prepared me for that little bastard popping out of his chest like a stripper in a haunted house."
Laughter rippled through the crew. The tension began to break.
Camera operators were checking their monitors, already reviewing the raw footage. One called out, "The reaction shot from Lambert... pure gold. She almost punched the alien off the table!"
Behind the monitors, Rachel watched silently, arms folded. She didn't laugh or flinch. But she was clearly impressed.
Alex turned to her. "Well? Time to work on a small teaser. But..." He took the mic and turned toward the crew. "This scene. No one should leak or spoil. If you do and I find out, I'm gonna sue that person with zero paycheck."
...
[After wrap]
The blood-slicked floor was being scrubbed down by the cleaning team, still red from the chestburster scene. The prosthetic alien had been carted away in a locked crate. The camera crew wiped lenses. Monitors were being rolled into standby. But Alex wasn't done yet.
He stood at the center of the set, where the green haze still coiled low across the floor, lit from beneath by subtle, sickly uplighting. The eggs remained: tall, slimy, pulsing with faint inner light. He circled one slowly, then pointed at the lighting team.
"Kill the overheads. Isolate the light to the floor rig and inner egg core. I want silhouette, then flash."
A few clicks. The room darkened. The alien eggs became shapes, shadows with a heartbeat.
"Perfect."
Rachel walked up beside him, tablet in hand. "You really want to shoot a teaser now? No break?"
Alex didn't take his eyes off the pulsing egg. "Everyone's still wired. Best time to lock something in. The energy's perfect. So, why waste time?"
He raised his voice.
"Listen up. We're doing a twenty-second teaser. No actors. No dialogue. Just atmosphere."
The crew, scattered and exhausted, perked up a little. A teaser meant tight shooting, minimal setup, and a cool credit.
Alex gestured toward the egg cluster. "I want fog. I want silence. Then one egg opens, nice and slow. We push in until we see movement inside."
The fog machines hissed to life again. A rig operator adjusted the egg's internal fan to make it pulse rhythmically, almost like a breath. Someone handed Alex a monitor tablet for framing. He adjusted the angle with a slight tilt of his head, fine-tuning the creep factor.
..
[Scene: Teaser Shoot]
The camera glided low across the floor, pushing past the fog, between the eggs. The green light flickered just slightly, like something was interfering with power. In the background, a low hum built, almost imperceptible. The camera stopped in front of the largest egg.
Silence.
Then... a shudder.
The egg flexed. The top split with a wet sound, petals folding outward. Inside, something pulsed, dark and twitching. Not visible. Just a shape. Waiting.
Alex watched the monitor. Then spoke softly.
"Cut."
He replayed the scene...
"Perfect. Now, all we have to do is add some more sound effects and do a little editing. Alright, team. Wrap up. And don't forget the safety check."
..
Location: Studio Parking Entrance
The sun hit the chrome just right as two custom bikes tore down the studio lot road. One was a deep crimson with swirling chaos magic decals, the other matte black with red hourglass rims.
Max led the charge, pedaling her Scarlet Witch-themed bicycle with wild glee, her windbreaker flapping behind her like a cape. Her helmet was covered in red hex runes and tiny Titan Comics stickers. A cupcake carrier was strapped to her front basket and back, like pizza delivery bikes, sealed in a bubble-wrap cocoon like precious cargo. She brought enough for the crew.
Behind her, Caroline coasted in confidence, dressed all in black with a jacket and oversized sunglasses. Her Black Widow-themed bike had custom handlebars shaped like stingers, and she was carrying cans of Hulk Punch Soda.
Max popped the front wheel slightly as they pulled up in front of the soundstage with a screech and dramatic skid.
"Sup, nerds!" she yelled. "Your sugar witch has arrived!"
Caroline rolled in beside her and dismounted like a biker queen who'd just completed a heist. "And I brought the antidote to trauma," she said, lifting the soda pack like a trophy.
A nearby guard blinked at the bikes, the helmets, the vibe.
Max flipped up her visor and flashed her Titan Studios badge. "We're official. Head of comics. Bringer of caffeine."
The guy stepped aside. "He's inside. Just wrapped."
Max grinned. "Thank you, sir of the shadows."
They parked the bikes with unnecessary flair, Max throwing a little salute as she kicked down her stand.
"Let's go see how many people Alex made cry today," Caroline said, cracking open a soda mid-stride.
"Or puke. I heard rumors from Scar," Max added, cupcakes in hand, skipping toward the set doors.
...
[Inside]
The backstage area was still buzzing, a mix of lingering adrenaline and cleanup protocol. Crew members shuffled between gear crates, coiled cables, and wiped fake blood off walls. The smell of latex, metal, and fog machine residue hung in the air.
Max pushed through the side door with her usual chaotic energy. "Sugar rescue inbound!" she shouted, holding the cupcake boxes above her head like sacred relics.
A cheer went up near the lighting rig. A grip crew member waved both arms. "Max! Over here! I need that chocolate espresso one or I'll collapse!"
Caroline followed calmly, passing cans of Hulk Punch like they were energy grenades. "One per hand. Don't be greedy. We got a whole war to feed."
Another crew member near the props table gave a low whistle. "Thank god. My soul left my body during the chestburster take."
"Your soul can have a red velvet cupcake," Max said, setting the boxes down on a rolling cart. "Tell it I said welcome back."
"Bless you, sugar witch," he replied, snatching a cupcake and tearing the wrapper off like it was life or death.
Caroline dropped two cans in front of the camera crew and handed one to Dave, the boom mic operator. "You were a champ today. Still got blood on your boots?"
He looked down. "Yep."
"Wear it like a badge," she said. "You survived an Alex shoot."
Behind them, a PA emerged from a hallway looking dazed. "Did the alien thing... blink at me?"
Max handed her a vanilla cupcake. "Eat. Sugar makes the trauma manageable."
The girl took it wordlessly and walked off chewing, eyes still wide.
Scarlett wandered in from the dressing area, hair damp, face wiped clean but still showing traces of slime in her neckline. She spotted the cupcake cart and pointed.
"Please tell me one of those is double chocolate."
Max grabbed one and held it out like a prize. "Double fudge with alien-green sprinkles. Made it special for you."
Scarlett snatched it and bit into it mid-stride, heading toward her minivan parked in the loading bay.
Max and Caroline followed, weaving between carts and crew.
As they reached the van, Scarlett leaned against the back, finally exhaling like she'd been holding her breath all day. She finished the last bite of the cupcake, then wiped her fingers on a towel she had draped over the driver's seat.
Max hopped onto the back bumper, legs swinging. "So… was it as bad as the rumors say?"
Scarlett looked at her. "Worse. It had pressure tubing. It screamed. I got hit in the face with something that tasted like bloody cherry and slime."
Caroline leaned against the side door, cracking another soda. "But did you die?"
"No."
"Then Alex wins again," Caroline said.
Scarlett grunted and chugged the rest of her water. "He's going to win himself a punch in the throat one of these days."
Max grinned. "But you'll still nail the scene as usual, right?"
"Of course," Scarlett said. "I just want to look terrifying while doing it."
Caroline grabbed a soda and tossed it to Scarlett. "For the scars."
Scarlett caught it and smirked. "Appreciate the field medic work."
"Always," Max said. "It's chaos in there. We're just the cupcakes in the crossfire."
They all leaned back, sipping drinks in silence.
...
[Meanwhile] [Alex's office]
Alex dropped into his desk chair like gravity hit him twice, then spun slightly and grabbed a protein bar off the cluttered shelf behind him. He unwrapped it and began chewing while flicking through production notes.
Rachel knocked once on the open door as she stepped in, holding her ever-present tablet like it contained nuclear launch codes.
Alex looked up, mouth still full. "What's next on the schedule? I know I'm forgetting something."
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You think?"
She slid the tablet across the desk. "You've got a meeting with Angelina Jolie in two hours. Photoshoot prep for tomorrow."
Alex stopped mid-chew. "That's tomorrow? Thought that was next week."
Rachel sat down across from him, unamused. "Nope. And before you ask, yes, this is the same photoshoot that just became a dumpster fire. The three models? All caught in a hotel room with enough drugs to tranquilize a rhino."
Alex blinked. "All three of them? Together?"
Rachel nodded. "Busted. Cops. Cameras. Hashtagged. Trending. So, we pulled the plug, and legal terminated their contracts about thirty minutes ago."
Alex leaned back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Perfect. So, we're model-less, the press is circling, and we have less than twenty-four hours to make something out of it."
"Exactly."
"So, this is what you were telling me last night?" He sighed again.
"Yeah, when you were busy eating me," She smirked.
"Well, what can I say? You were so tasty that all my focus was on your juicy pussy," He said with a sly smile.
"I'll take the compliment. But you better take a quick shower and put on something good," Rachel said as she walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of iced tea.
At the same time...
The door opened...
Scarlett, Max, and Caroline entered...
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[8 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers]
--
Next: Ch: 112 [Dinner with Angelina Jolie]
Ch: 113 [Glamorized and Weaponized]
Ch: 114 [The Photoshoot]
Ch: 115 [Where Pretending Ends]
Ch: 116 [Final Photoshoot]