AN: Fast paced wrap up.
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Alex stood near the scaffolding with Scarlett and Derek, clipboard tucked under one arm, headset looped around his neck. His voice was calm, eyes focused.
He looked at Scarlett first.
"This is the last one. One sequence, as usual. No calls to reset unless safety demands it. This will be in one continuous take. Can you do that?"
Scarlett adjusted her grip on the suit collar. She didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. I've been Ripley for a month. I've already rehearsed for this scene many times. So, yeah. Let's do it."
Alex's eyes shifted to Derek.
"You ready for pain?"
Derek exhaled a long breath. His alien prosthetic already covered most of his frame except the head unit, which sat beside him on the rig cart. His body was slick with FX slime, tubes snaking down his back, tail still disconnected.
"Always. Final shot. I'll give it my all."
Alex nodded once. "That's what I need. Controlled chaos. You're gonna get hit with sparks, yanked with wires, half-blinded in strobe. Once again, if you feel any discomfort, let us know. Don't take any risk for the shot."
Derek cracked his neck. "Will do. Just make sure Scarlett doesn't actually kill me when she launches that grappling hook."
Scarlett smirked. "No promises. You spooked me long enough. Time to face the hook."
Behind them, the costume team arrived with the pressure suit and placed it into the small room near the hangar setting.
[A few minutes later]
The air inside the set was cold. Red lights flickered in the distance. On the catwalk, the rig team gave their final nod. Safety wires were clipped. Pressure valves were checked. Trigger switches were handed off.
The prosthetic team huddled around Derek, clipping in the final pieces of the alien head. Tubes fed into the back of the skull, each one filled with thick, glistening slime. His inner jaw clicked into place. The tail, coiled like a serpent, was secured by two handlers with remote motors synced to pressure pads in his heels.
Rachel called out from behind the monitor: "All rigs green. FX steam pressurized. Console ignition ready."
Carl gave the go-ahead.
Alex's voice cut through the headset, clear and calm.
"Alright. Everyone quiet. Final scene. 3... 2... 1... Action."
[Rolling. Take one.]
The shuttle's interior hummed faintly. A low vibration ran beneath the floor like the heartbeat of the ship. Flickering lights pulsed in sync, painting the narrow corridor in flickering warning tones. The air was damp. Quiet. Too quiet.
Ripley moved slowly.
Her breath was somewhat steady, but her eyes were scanning every corner, and she was sweating. She stepped past the final corner and looked toward the stasis pod.
It was open.
She froze.
Her gaze swept the small room. Pipes. Wall grates. The narrow storage recess.
Then she saw it.
A shape. Curled up. Tucked into the shadows, limbs pressed against the inner walls like a folded nightmare.
The alien.
Hiding.
Waiting.
Ripley didn't move. Her hand slid down to the grappling gun hanging off the side panel. Her fingers wrapped around the handle like it was an extension of her pulse.
Slowly, she backed out of the chamber and turned toward the locker where the space suit hung, untouched until now.
[Camera: tight shot on her face as she changes]
Ripley stepped into the suit.
Each motion was silent, mechanical. Zip. Click. The helmet hissed shut. The air filter kicked on with a soft whir. Inside, her breathing grew louder. Clearer. A cold echo in her own ears.
She picked up the grappling gun.
Loaded it.
Locked the door behind her.
[Cut to: Shuttle Command Console]
Ripley moved down the narrow gangway, the gun in her hands, the sound of her boots muffled against the steel floor.
She sat in the console chair.
Swiveled slightly.
Her gloved fingers danced across the old buttons. Switches flipped. Steam valves hissed open. Pressure vents unlocked.
She paused.
Then quietly began to sing.
"You are my lucky star..."
Her voice was fragile at first.
"You are my lucky star..."
As she sang, steam burst from the wall beside the alien's hiding place.
[FX: vent pressure kicks]
The alien screamed.
A horrible, tearing screech that filled the ship with raw, predatory fury. Its limbs unfolded. The prosthetic hissed and spasmed as Derek leaned forward into the light, snarling inside the helmet.
[Camera angle shift – over Ripley's shoulder]
She stood.
Turned slowly. Her eyes were glancing to her sides.
The alien lunged.
She didn't flinch.
Ripley quickly slammed her fist on the shuttle door. The high pressure from outside pulled the alien out. But it latched onto the door frame.
[FX: Compressed air blast]
She raised the grappling gun and fired.
The bolt exploded from the muzzle with a sharp hiss. It tore through the narrow space and struck the alien square in the chest, throwing it out into the space. She quickly closed the hatch, but the grappling gun got stuck to the door, pulling the alien near the blast vent.
It then tried to claw inside through there.
Inside, Ripley bolted for the engine control panel.
Slammed a switch.
"Cut."
Alex said loudly.
[After "Cut"]
The booming silence of the final moment faded into the sudden rush of crew movement. Alex stepped down from the director's platform, already pulling off his headset.
"Safety team, go," Carl called, gesturing toward the shuttle corridor.
A half-dozen crew members hustled to Derek. He was on the ground, sitting upright, arms resting on his knees, still in most of the suit. His breath came heavy through the helmet. One of the rig assistants unclipped his harness while another checked the padding under his shoulders.
"You alright?" Rachel asked as she jogged up with a bottle of water.
Derek popped off the helmet with a grunt. "Hell of a yank. That rig's got attitude." He smiled, but there was a wince in it.
The medic crouched beside him, checking him over quickly. "You're sweating like hell, but your pulse is stable. Any pain?"
He flexed his right hand. "Bruised a knuckle when I grabbed the vent edge too hard. Nothing serious."
Alex approached, crouched beside him. "You sure?"
Derek held up his hand. "Tiny bruise. I've had worse playing street hockey."
Alex nodded. "Alright. Great job. That scare hit harder than half the franchises trying horror these days."
Derek grinned as the FX crew began detaching the remaining slime tubes and tail rig. "That's what I'm here for."
"Get him to the cooling room," Rachel told the prosthetic lead. "Let him rest. The puppet takes over from here."
Scarlett came out of the set after the safety team pulled her out of that space suit that was too stuffy, and Alex gave her a thumbs up.
"Great job, Scar."
"Thanks. Now, if you don't mind, I need some instant cooling."
As they were escorted off the set, Alex turned toward the second crew staging near the engine vent.
"Okay," he called out, stepping back toward the monitors. "We've got everything we need from the performance. Now we finish with the practical pull."
On cue, a team wheeled in the final piece: the full-scale alien puppet. Built with high-grade latex, hydraulic limbs, and internal servos for head and jaw movement. Its eyes glistened, tubing rigged inside its mouth and spine to simulate twitching once the engines fired.
"Place it on the rig," Carl directed.
The stagehands hoisted the puppet into position outside the airlock set piece. The rig pulled it into the final hold. Cables connected to its back led offstage to a high-torque pulley system.
Rachel was already at the monitor, checking light exposure.
Alex stood beside her. "Make sure camera one stays locked on its body. I want to see it jerk. Feel the drag."
Rachel tapped her tablet. "Puppeteers ready. Smoke is primed. Engine blast vent prepped."
The FX lead lifted a hand. "One burst. Enough force to yank the puppet ten feet back, then the servos kick on to simulate the final twitch. We'll run slow-mo on playback."
Carl's voice rang out. "Quiet on set! Rolling FX scene. Engine thrust sequence. Cameras two and four are ready. Final blast. Safety team, be ready with those extinguishers."
Alex leaned toward his mic.
"Three. Two. One. Action."
The engine ignited with a roar that shook the steel floor. Fire blasted from the vent system. The alien puppet was yanked violently backward. It got burned and then the screaching began.
Its jaws sprang open, a hiss frozen mid-scream, tubing in the mouth bubbling with artificial drool as the servos kicked in. Its head jerked left, then right, as the rig yanked harder, the tail trailing behind like a loose whip.
The creature spun once mid-air, then... It fell... Slowly disappearing into the space. [VFX will be added during editing.]
"Cut."
The floor was quiet for a beat after the final "cut," until applause erupted.
Crew, cast, FX techs, riggers, assistants... everyone clapped, whistled, or gave each other fist bumps. Someone hit the studio lights full. Warm light bathed the set, and just like that, the horror dissolved into celebration.
Alex stood back, headset around his neck, watching it all. Rachel nudged him with her shoulder.
"That's a wrap."
He nodded once. "Yeah. We got it."
Carl, drenched in stage sweat, raised a hand like a victory flag. "No retakes. Zero redos. Twelve weeks of footage in one month. That's a damn record."
15 minutes later, after the wrap up...
Scarlett walked over, now in sweatpants and a tank top, hair still matted from the pressure suit. She smiled, grabbed a bottle of sparkling juice from the snack table, and raised it.
"To the only man who can terrorize people into one-take masterpieces."
Lilly joined them next, already dancing to the faint bass beat coming from a portable speaker someone had set up near the crew lounge. "And now, it's party time. Food's hot, drinks are cold, nobody died... let's go."
Long folding tables had been set up near the back of the hangar. No champagne, no red carpet, just boxes of pizza, stacks of protein wraps, pasta trays, cold soda, mocktails, and too many bags of chips.
Derek, finally out of the alien suit and wearing a simple shirt, toasted with a lime soda. "To the scariest movie I've ever had fun in."
Scarlett raised her sparkling apple bottle. "To Ripley."
The remaining crew members did a simple toast...
Finally, Alex raised his. "To all of you."
Carl shouted over the music, "Next stop... editing bay!"
Everyone cheered.
And for the first time in weeks, no one thought about call sheets or rig weights or slime.
They danced.
They ate.
They smiled.
It was done.
Alien 2006 was officially in the can.
...
[A few hours later] [Parking]
The music had faded. The lights were shutting down one by one inside the set. Cleanup crews moved methodically through the bay, rolling up cables, draining coolant lines, and wiping down the grime.
The FX team, already halfway through disassembling the rig, shut off the final power grid. A few of them waved tired goodbyes on their way out. Carl gave Rachel a last report before heading to his car. The last van of camera equipment was being loaded near the rear dock.
Scarlett leaned against the side of her car, arms crossed loosely. She looked completely wiped, and yet, there was a kind of calm in her eyes, quiet pride. Her body language said it all: spent, but satisfied.
Alex stood a few feet away, blazer slung over his shoulder. He still looked half in work mode, phone buzzing in his hand every few seconds, but he hadn't left her side.
"I don't trust myself behind the wheel," Scarlett said finally, with a tired smile. "I might fall asleep at the first red light."
Alex gave a soft chuckle, eyes scanning the lot. "Then you're not driving. I'll get someone to take you."
"You sure?" she asked. "I can Uber."
He was already texting. "Nope. Not happening. Wait two minutes."
Scarlett didn't argue.
Moments later, a black SUV pulled around from the back gate. One of Alex's private bodyguards stepped out of the driver's seat. She was tall, calm, and was wearing a black suit.
Alex nodded to her. "Take her home. Make sure she gets inside."
The guard returned the nod without a word and opened the back door for Scarlett.
Scarlett turned to Alex. "You staying much longer?"
He glanced toward the studio. "Just long enough to make sure no one burns the place down before sunrise."
She stepped close, reached out, and tugged gently at the front of his shirt. "Well… since I'm not dying tonight, I guess I should say thanks."
"For what?" he asked, voice softening.
"For letting me be Ripley," she said. "For giving me something unforgettable."
"You made her real," Alex replied. "More than I ever imagined."
She leaned in. Their lips met. Not rushed. Not just goodbye. It was a slow, heavy kiss. One filled with all the adrenaline left behind from the last shot, the trust, the exhaustion, and everything they hadn't said out loud.
When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead lightly against his.
"Don't stay too late," she murmured.
"Don't fall asleep before you get inside," he replied.
Scarlett gave a lazy smirk, climbed into the SUV, and closed the door. The engine started quietly.
Alex stood there, watching as the car pulled out of the lot and turned down the road.
Then he turned back toward the hangar.
There were still lights to kill. Rigs to inspect. Footage to archive.
A large yawn escaped his mouth, "Haaa... Gonna take a 3-day break. Zero work. Zero tension. Maybe go on a quick date." He pulled out his phone and dialled Caroline's number.
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AN: Next 4 chapters will be focused on Caroline and maybe... MC will meet 2 new celebs. Oh, some might say How did he wrap up so fast> Long hours shoot, money, he made the entire ship, so he didn't have to customize everything for every shoot, just little tweaks. Plus, the OG movie took like 98 days to shoot and it's 2006, so, yeah.
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[6 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers] [No double billing.]
[Early access to Brooklyn 99> 10 advance chs]
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