The camera captured Luke's back against the backdrop of the distant scenery.
It slowly zoomed in, rising above his head to shoot downward, the 600-meter drop creating a dizzying, top-heavy sensation.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh~ The fierce wind roared in everyone's ears, sending a chill down their spines.
Grains of sand carried by the wind stung their faces, adding a surreal sting that made it hard to believe this was real.
Was someone actually going to free-climb a skyscraper?
Even the crew watching the camera feed couldn't help but feel their legs go weak.
"No amount of money would get me to do that. It's insane," one crew member muttered.
"That's why Luke's the GOAT. There's only one of him," another replied.
"Quiet, I'm trying to focus. I need to burn this moment into my brain!"
Luke reached into the small pouch at his waist, pulling out some white powder and rubbing it onto his bare hands and feet.
It was magnesium carbonate powder—colorless, odorless, and highly absorbent, perfect for increasing friction between his hands, feet, and the aluminum window frames.
Ready to go, Luke gripped the window frame and leaned out.
With a light leap, he braced his hands and feet against the sides of the frame.
Snap!
He firmly secured himself to the aluminum edges of the glass window.
Luke's height and long limbs gave him an advantage, letting him support his body with less effort than most.
Perfect—step one was a success!
He started climbing, using his hands and feet in sync, moving upward with precision.
His movements were fast and steady. He'd grip a higher point with his hands for support, then push up with his legs to lift his body.
His coordination was flawless, like he'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
This was the payoff of his master-level gymnastics and parkour skills, making every move crisp and seamless, flowing with an almost hypnotic grace that made you want to cheer.
"Is this a real-life Spider-Man? Can a human actually pull this off?" Director Cohen marveled, watching the scene unfold.
"Seeing Luke do this, I bet security companies are gonna have to rethink their protocols," Depp quipped, always seeing things from a different angle.
"No need," Vin Diesel shot back, syncing up with Depp's wavelength. "No one else could do this. If it happens, there's only one suspect." His clenched fist betrayed the tension he felt.
"Coach Bob, isn't he climbing too fast? Won't he burn out?" Yuffie asked, her voice laced with worry.
"Nah, for a scene like this, you've gotta go all in," Bob, the action coordinator, reassured her. "Taking it slow would actually tire him out more."
Sure enough, Luke kept climbing, his pace quickening with no sign of fatigue.
At each floor junction, a small protruding ledge gave him something to grab onto.
He'd hook his arms over the edge, pull himself up, adjust his stance, and keep going.
Before long, he'd reached the 147th floor—over halfway through the climb.
He paused to adjust his position, wedging himself in place with his legs on one side of the window frame and his back pressed against the aluminum on the other, suspended in midair.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead to keep it from dripping into his eyes and messing with his vision.
Then he grabbed more magnesium powder from his pouch, rubbing it onto his hands before resuming the climb.
Suddenly, he felt the wind pick up, stronger than before.
Was it his imagination?
Would it affect him?
No point overthinking it. Luke shook off the thought and powered upward.
Back in the 135th-floor suite, Bob's brow furrowed.
He checked his wind speed meter: 20.3 meters per second.
That was gale-force, an 8 on the wind scale.
Normally, near the ground, a 1-meter-per-second breeze is a gentle 2 on the scale.
But at 300–400 meters up, that could ramp up to 11 meters per second—a strong 6.
At 600 meters, where they were filming, it could hit 14 meters per second, a 7 on the scale.
Bob had been worried about wind interference, especially for the upcoming scene with two planned falls, which would be harder to control.
They'd estimated a wind speed of around 14 meters per second, a manageable 7.
But now it was at 20.3 meters per second—an 8—and climbing.
Bob's concern grew: Please, no accidents!
Following his gaze, Luke was nearing the 156th floor's server room.
Like before, he braced himself with his legs and back against the window frame, pulling a laser cutter from his pouch.
He needed to slice through multiple layers of tempered glass to get inside.
As he started cutting, everyone on set went silent, eyes locked on Luke dangling in midair, hearts in their throats.
One of the shoot's most challenging scenes was about to begin.
Bob glanced at the wind speed meter: 24 meters per second!
Damn it! That was a 9—storm-force.
Sure, someone over 135 pounds could withstand a 9, and over 160 pounds could handle a 10.
But "withstand" just meant not getting knocked over or blown away, not being unaffected.
This kind of wind would definitely mess with Luke's fall trajectory. Should they stop?
But Luke had been crystal clear before the shoot: unless he called it, they weren't to stop, no matter what.
Bob didn't dare go against his orders, so he silently prayed nothing would go wrong.
Even if the shot failed, the safety ropes would catch him. Worst case, a few broken bones, right? Bob tried to reassure himself.
The one thing giving him a sliver of comfort was that Luke had bulked up to 83 kilograms. The extra weight gave him a bit more stability for this scene.