….
"Roll cameras! All cameras!"
Twelve cameras confirmed rolling simultaneously.
"Action!"
The scene unfolded.
Jonathan was running into the churning chaos, fighting hard against the relentless winds that pulled mercilessly at him. He freed the trapped family from their overturned van. He turned back toward the overpass, toward the relative safety, toward his son.
Then, his eyes caught something - a dog. It was a terrifying split-second decision.
Jonathan turned back toward the danger.
"No!" Diane screamed, perfectly pitched for a mother watching her husband run toward death.
Henry surged forward, and for a moment, you could see Superman wanting to emerge - the power barely contained, muscles tensing to do the impossible.
"Clark, no!" Diane grabbed his arm with both hands.
But Henry wasn't looking at her. His eyes were locked on Stephen, on his father disappearing into the green-screen maelstrom.
Stephen with so much effort freed the trapped dog, shoved it toward safety - only for his leg to be hurt in the process.
Then the car - the practical rig they had positioned for this exact moment - began to lift, pulled by hidden wires that simulated the tornado's force.
Stephen looked back one final time.
His eyes found Henry's across the impossible distance.
And here - this was the moment that mattered.
Stephen's face showed everything: love for his son, pride in who he'd become, terror at what was coming, and most devastating of all - acceptance.
The profound, unsettling calm of a man who had made his impossible choice and would accept the consequences instantly.
He shook his head slightly. Don't. Not yet.
"Dad!" Henry screamed, and this time—
This time it was perfect.
It wasn't heroic grief. It wasn't noble suffering.
It was simply a son watching his father die, unable to stop it, absolutely forbidden from stopping it. The deep, hot rage, the overwhelming devastation, and the helpless fury of that moment all poured out in that single, gut-wrenching word.
The car struck Stephen - perfectly choreographed stunt work - and he disappeared into the chaos of wind and rain and debris that would become a CGI tornado in post-production.
Diane collapsed, pulling Henry down with her, both of them screaming into the storm.
Three seconds. Five. Ten.
"Cut."
The word hung in the air, and just as the crew was about to relax and celebrate what looked like a flawless shot, Leo, the cameraman, approached Regal–
"Regal… we have got a focus problem. Camera A drifted during the emotional beat."
The set atmosphere seemed to deflate. The spell that Stephen had cast - the weight of that performance - evaporated under the blunt reality of technical failure.
"Is everything else fine with the other cameras?"
"Yeah…" Leo confirmed, looking frustrated. "All the other angles are absolutely clean."
Regal didn't show a shred of frustration. He didn't raise his voice or blame anyone, as was his way. He simply absorbed the failure, steady as a rock.
"I apologize–" Leo started, looking embarrassed.
"Then reset." Regal interrupted gently. "We are going for it again. The shot is too important."
"...just give me five minutes." Leo muttered, immediately running off to his team.
Even from several feet away, one could notice his angry, animated shouts at his camera assistants.
Right. Unlike Regal, Leo wasn't nearly as cool-headed about this mishap. However, nobody dared to intervene; everyone has their own unique way to get things right under pressure.
With the reset underway, Regal informed Henry and the others to take a break. He confirmed that the cameras focused on them were perfectly fine.
The problem camera, Camera A, was indeed the one focused specifically on Stephen Sr. - the main coverage of Jonathan Kent's sacrifice.
However, his response was quite similar to that of Regal - the actor had simply returned to his first mark with no hint of irritation, while the makeup man retouched his hair and face.
Stephen's response to the failure was remarkably similar to Regal's.
The veteran actor simply returned to his original first mark without a hint of irritation, patiently waiting while the makeup artist rushed over to retouch his soaked hair and face.
For Stephen Sr., going for a second take due to a technical issue was nothing that would make him wary or disturbed.
….
And just like that, after several minutes, when Regal called 'Action,' he stepped back into the storm as if he had never left it, delivering the moment with the same precision and emotional clarity.
But once more, the monitor flickered with the telltale softness of a drifting lens.
Leo muttered a sharp curse under his breath, slapping his palm against his leg. "It's the remote focus motor," he realized, grabbing his focus puller.
"I think the constant jarring from the gimbal system is making the calibration slip. We need to check the lens lock and tighten the focus barrel."
They immediately reset.
A third time, Stephen rebuilt the scene from the ground up. His intensity remained utterly intact, undiluted by the forced breaks.
The storm machines roared again.
Stephen Sr. took his place and delivered a fourth performance with the same force as the first - an almost unnatural consistency, as if the emotion lived under his skin rather than being summoned.
This time an AD stood in the position of Henry, giving cue for the senior actor when to react - to which he again reacted perfectly.
The car lashed through the space, Stephen's body was pulled into the storm rig, and the moment collapsed around fake Diane and Henry as they fell to the ground in anguish.
Regal let the silence breathe for one long beat, then called. "Cut."
Everyone immediately turned toward the monitors.
Leo leaned in close, scanning the footage frame by frame. The camera operator triple-checked his angle. A tight, electric pause settled over the group, every pair of eyes waiting anxiously for the final verdict.
Leo slowly turned to Regal, his face showing a mixture of pure excitement and utter disbelief. "Tell me we got that, Regal."
"We got it." the camera operator confirmed instantly. "All angles are clean and sharp. We locked down the focus barrel this time. No more slip."
Regal stood slowly, walking toward the set as crew members rushed to help the actors up, to towel off the rain, to check that no one had been injured by the stunt work.
Stephen looked calm. Satisfied. Like a craftsman who'd just completed a difficult piece and knew it was good.
"That's a wrap on Jonathan Kent." The first AD announced. "Mr. Hawking, that's your final shot for the production."
The crew began applauding, but it was subdued - respectful rather than celebratory. You didn't cheer for a performance like that. You acknowledged it quietly, the way you'd acknowledge witnessing something sacred.
Stephen Sr. accepted the applause with a slight nod, then began walking toward his trailer to change out of the soaked costume.
Regal intercepted him halfway.
"Thank you." It was inadequate, but it was all he had. "For coming back."
Stephen studied him for a long moment. "You gave me what I was looking for."
"What was that?"
"A reason." Stephen's smile was slight but genuine. "A reason to remember why I started doing this forty years ago."
He glanced back at the set, at the crew already breaking down equipment, at Henry still catching his breath from the emotional intensity.
"I felt it again during that last take." Stephen said quietly. "That state you somehow manage to pull out of people. I almost had it. I almost reached it entirely on my own this time."
Regal's breath caught. "What would you do if you could?"
"Create something nobody has ever seen before." Stephen's eyes held that familiar, deep hunger that makes true artists. "What else is there?"
He clapped Regal on the shoulder once, then continued toward his trailer.
Regal stood there, watching him go, and felt a strange mixture of pride and unease.
He had successfully brought a genuine acting legend back from retirement, giving that legend a new, seemingly impossible mountain to climb.
And somehow, impossibly, that legend was finding ways to climb it.
Behind him, Leo approached with the playback on his laptop. "You want to watch it again? I swear, I have run it back ten times and it still hits."
Regal didn't look at the screen. He had felt it behind the monitor - that perfect alignment when everything clicked into place.
"Henry's scream from the first take is going to wreck audiences." Leo said. "Combined with Stephen's final look? People are going to be devastated."
Regal nodded slightly. "Jonathan's death has to break something in Clark. It's the moment he understands that even with all the power in the world, he's not omnipotent."
Leo shut the laptop with a quiet thud. "Well, if that was the goal, we nailed it. That's the strongest death scene I have ever shot. And I once filmed a funeral sequence that walked off with four Oscars."
They stood together, watching the crew work, watching Henry slowly composing himself, watching the machinery of filmmaking continue its inexorable forward motion.
Stephen Hawking Sr.'s work on Superman was complete.
But the impact of his performance - the legend of what had happened on this Kansas set - was just beginning.
….
Next Day | Morning.
Darren spoke through the phone. ["Regal, we have a problem. A clip leaked from yesterday."]
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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