Andy's Point of View

"Blue on blue! Hold your fire!" I barked into the headset as two friendly fighters screamed overhead, missing my position by what felt like mere feet.

A burst of static crackled through the radio.

"Sorry, Echo-Nine-Two-Five." The pilot replied. "Bandits have been all over the area. We're a little jumpy."

I tightened my grip on the rifle slung across my chest.

"Then use your IFF next time." I growled. "That's what it's there for."

A brief silence followed.

"...Copy that, Echo-Nine-Two-Five."

Before either of us could continue...

"Cut!"

The director's voice rang out across the set.

Almost instantly, the tension evaporated.

The pilots banking overhead broke formation, climbing lazily into the sky instead of diving toward imaginary enemy fighters.

The cameraman lowered his camera.

Someone near the sound equipment let out a satisfied laugh.

I pulled the headset off and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Well..." I muttered. "...I think that one went better."

From somewhere behind me, Alex's voice carried across the set.

"Radio work was good!"

I glanced over my shoulder.

He was standing beside the director, script rolled up in one hand, talking animatedly about something involving the next scene.

One of the second years noticed me looking.

"He's been coaching everyone on radio procedure."

"...Of course he has." I sighed.

The student laughed.

"He keeps stopping us every time we say something he'd call 'Hollywood military nonsense.'"

I wasn't even surprised anymore.

The director jogged over, script tucked beneath one arm.

"That was much better."

He looked between me and the pilot who had just landed.

"The radio chatter actually sounded believable."

Alex folded his arms.

"Well..."

He pointed at the headset in my hand.

"He's used to talking over a radio."

I gave him a look.

"You make it sound like I've been in a war."

"You've studied enough military history to fake one."

"...Fair."

The second year playing the pilot climbed out of the mock cockpit, pulling off his flight helmet.

"So..." He asked Alex. "How would've you handled that situation?"

Alex thought for a moment.

"If we're going for realism?"

The director nodded eagerly.

"Always."

"You wouldn't just say, 'Sorry.'"

The student frowned.

"I wouldn't?"

Alex shook his head.

"You'd identify yourself first."

He pointed toward the pilot.

"You're the one who almost lit him up, so the burden's on you."

The pilot nodded.

"Makes sense."

Alex continued.

"You'd probably say something like..."

He slipped into the role effortlessly.

"Echo-Nine-Two-Five, this is Viper-One-One. My apologies for the close pass. Misidentified your position while tracking a bandit. I'll verify IFF before engaging next time."

The set fell quiet.

The pilot blinked.

"...That sounds way cooler."

Alex shrugged.

"It also tells everyone listening what happened."

He began counting on his fingers.

"Who made the mistake."

"One."

"Who they nearly shot."

"Two."

"What caused it."

"Three."

"And what they're doing to prevent it from happening again."

"Four."

The director immediately scribbled notes into the margin of his script.

"We're keeping that."

Another student laughed.

"At this rate we're just filming Alex's version of the movie."

Alex looked horrified.

"Please don't."

"Why not?"

"Because then I'll have to explain why your military has six different camouflage patterns for one desert."

The crew looked at one another.

"...We do have six."

"Exactly."

A collective groan spread across the set.

The costume designer buried her face in her hands.

"I spent two days making those."

Alex winced.

"...In my defense..."

The entire crew pointed at him in unison.

"No."

He slowly raised both hands.

"...Fair."

The director clapped once.

"Alright, everyone!"

He pointed toward the set.

"Reset for Scene Twelve!"

Students immediately scattered back to their positions.

The pilot jogged toward his mock cockpit.

The camera crew checked their equipment.

The sound team adjusted microphones.

Alex started to follow before pausing beside us.

"You three sticking around?"

Yang grinned.

"Oh, absolutely."

Blake nodded once.

"I want to see how this turns out."

I folded my arms.

"I've already been cast."

Alex smiled.

"Well then..."

He adjusted the strap on his vest.

"Welcome to the production."

He turned back toward the set, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Alright!"

His voice carried across the field.

"Let's make a movie."

A few of the second years exchanged amused looks.

One of them leaned over to another and whispered just loudly enough for us to hear...

"...See?"

"I told you."

"He's directing now."

Alex froze mid-step.

"...I am not!"

The director laughed from behind the camera.

"You kind of are."

Alex let out a long, defeated sigh.

"...I really need to stop accidentally taking over people's projects."

"Oh?" Yang asked, raising an eyebrow. "Has this happened before?"

Alex let out a quiet chuckle.

"Yes."

He adjusted the sling on his rifle before looking back toward the set.

"This isn't the first time I've somehow stumbled into helping make a project."

He offered nothing more.

No story.

No explanation.

Just that.

Knowing Alex, prying would get us nowhere.

He clapped his hands together once, his easygoing demeanor shifting into something more focused.

"Right then."

He looked at Yang and Blake.

"Yang, Blake, you two go get suited up."

Yang flashed him a playful salute.

"Gotcha."

She shot him a wink before heading toward the costume tent.

Blake simply gave a single nod.

"Understood."

Without another word, she followed after Yang.

Alex turned to me.

"Andy."

"Yeah?"

"Go get into position."

I nodded.

"You got it."

As I started toward the set, I glanced back over my shoulder.

Alex was already talking with the director, pointing toward the storyboard while explaining something about camera angles and movement.

I couldn't help but shake my head.

I made my way toward the mock dropship that had been built from painted plywood, sheet metal, and more optimism than budget.

Honestly...

It looked better than I expected.

A few second years were making final adjustments to lights while another checked the camera.

The director clapped his hands.

"Alright, everyone! Scene fourteen!"

The chatter died almost immediately.

"Places!"

I climbed into the pilot's seat of the mock cockpit, slipping the headset back over my ears.

Behind me, Yang emerged from the costume tent.

Her experimental supersoldier armor was built around a desert digital camouflage combat suit, reinforced with segmented armored plating across her chest, shoulders, forearms, and knees. A tactical belt lined with pouches rested at her waist, while a drop-leg holster hugged one thigh. Black gloves and lace-up combat boots completed the look, making her resemble the product of a classified military enhancement program rather than a conventional soldier.

She planted a hand on her hip and gave an approving nod.

"...Okay."

She looked herself over.

"This is actually pretty cool."

Alex glanced up from the script.

"Told you."

A moment later, Blake stepped out from the neighboring tent.

Unlike Yang's heavier armor, Blake's outfit emphasized mobility and stealth. She wore a desert camouflage combat uniform beneath a black tactical vest loaded with magazines and equipment, its dark webbing breaking up her silhouette. A matching face covering concealed the lower half of her face, while fingerless gloves, reinforced knee pads, and a thigh-mounted sidearm completed the ensemble. Her Faunus ears poked through her long black hair, giving her the unmistakable appearance of a special operations infiltrator whose job was to be seen only when it was already too late.

Alex gave her a quick once-over.

"Perfect."

Blake glanced down at herself.

"...It's surprisingly comfortable."

"Night operators don't wear uncomfortable gear."

Yang smirked.

"Listen to him."

Alex shrugged.

"They've still got to run, climb, and fight."

The director stepped forward.

"Alright!"

He pointed toward the set.

"Remember, this scene takes place just after Sergeant Frostwire's escape pod crashes."

Alex immediately raised a hand.

"One thing."

The director looked over.

"Yeah?"

Alex walked over to Yang.

"When you enter..."

He pointed toward the wreckage.

"Don't come in like a superhero."

Yang frowned.

"But I am the superhero."

"In this story..."

He smiled.

"You're a soldier."

She nodded slowly.

"...Okay."

"You've spent days tracking an unidentified escape pod."

He gestured toward the mock crash site.

"You don't know who's inside."

Yang's expression shifted.

Less confidence.

More caution.

Alex nodded.

"There."

"That."

"Lead with curiosity."

"Not certainty."

Yang smiled.

"...Got it."

He turned toward Blake.

"You're covering her."

Blake nodded.

"Watching the tree line?"

"Exactly."

"You're expecting an ambush."

Without another word, Blake subtly adjusted her stance.

Her posture lowered.

Her eyes began scanning the surrounding area instead of the crash site itself.

Alex smiled.

"Perfect."

The director stared at the three of them.

"...I didn't even have to explain the scene."

Alex looked over.

"You already wrote it."

"Yeah..."

The director laughed.

"...But you somehow explained it better than I did."

Alex blinked.

"...Huh."

The second-years nearby exchanged amused looks.

One leaned over to another.

"He's doing it again."

"The accidental directing?"

"The accidental directing."

The director overheard them and laughed.

"I don't even mind anymore."

He looked toward the camera crew.

"Camera ready?"

"Ready!"

"Sound?"

"Rolling!"

He glanced toward Alex.

"You ready, Sergeant Frostwire?"

Alex adjusted the rifle hanging across his chest before settling into position beside the mock escape pod.

A confident grin spread across his face.

"Ready when you are."

The director raised his hand.

"...And..."

The entire set fell silent.

"...Action!"

The moment the director called action, the entire set shifted.

The joking stopped.

The second years behind the cameras went quiet.

Even Alex changed.

Gone was the easy grin and casual posture.

In its place was Sergeant John Frostwire.

The mock escape pod sat half-buried in fake dirt and scattered metal scraps, smoke hissing from hidden canisters beneath the wreckage. Alex was crouched beside it, one knee pressed into the ground, rifle raised and sweeping the area in slow, controlled movements.

His breathing was sharp.

His eyes were alert.

Nothing about him looked relaxed.

From inside the mock cockpit, I watched through the set window as Yang and Blake entered from the tree line.

Yang moved first, her armored boots crunching against the dirt. Her rifle was held low, but ready, her eyes locked on the crashed pod.

Blake followed several steps behind and to the side, moving quieter than anyone else on set could have managed. Her weapon tracked the trees, not Alex.

Just like he'd told her.

Alex noticed them almost immediately.

His rifle snapped toward Yang.

"Stop right there!"

Yang froze.

Blake disappeared halfway behind a piece of cover, weapon lifting toward him.

The sudden hostility made the scene feel a lot more real than I expected.

Yang raised one hand slowly, keeping the other near her weapon.

"Easy."

Alex didn't lower his rifle.

"Don't move."

His voice was cold.

Hard.

The kind of voice that said he would shoot first and ask questions later if they gave him a reason.

Yang's expression shifted perfectly.

Not offended.

Not angry.

Cautious.

"We're not here to hurt you."

"Funny." Alex said, eyes flicking briefly toward Blake's position. "People with guns say that a lot."

Blake's eyes narrowed from behind her mask.

"You saw me."

"I heard you."

Blake paused.

For a second, even from the cockpit, I could tell that had surprised her.

Yang took a slow breath.

"We tracked your pod. You're in restricted territory."

Alex gave a humorless laugh.

"Lady, I was abducted, shot at, thrown into an escape pod, and crashed on a planet I've never seen before."

His rifle remained steady.

"So forgive me if I don't care much about your restricted territory."

Yang lowered her hand slightly.

"You're alone."

Alex's grip tightened.

"That's an assumption."

Blake shifted behind cover.

Alex's rifle immediately moved a fraction in her direction.

"Tell your shadow to stop moving."

Blake froze.

Yang glanced toward her.

Then back to Alex.

"You're outnumbered."

"Yep."

He tilted his head slightly.

"But you're the ones standing in the open."

A brief silence followed.

That line hadn't been in the script.

I knew it.

The director knew it.

Everyone knew it.

Nobody called cut.

Yang's mouth twitched slightly, but she kept herself in character.

"Name."

Alex didn't answer.

Yang's eyes hardened.

"I said name."

"Sergeant John Frostwire."

"Faction?"

Alex snorted.

"None of yours."

"That's not an answer."

"It is the only one you're getting."

Blake finally spoke, her voice quieter than Yang's but sharper.

"Your armor doesn't match any known military."

Alex's eyes flicked toward her again.

"Neither do your ears."

The set went still.

Blake's gaze sharpened.

Yang's posture tensed.

Alex kept the rifle trained between them, clearly realizing he'd hit a nerve but not backing down.

For a few seconds, nobody moved.

Then Yang spoke, slower this time.

"You don't know where you are, do you?"

Alex didn't answer right away.

His expression shifted just slightly.

Not enough to make him look helpless.

Just enough to show the crack beneath the hostility.

"No."

Yang lowered her weapon by an inch.

Blake didn't.

Alex noticed both.

Smart.

Still dangerous.

Still watching.

Yang nodded toward his rifle.

"You lower yours, we'll lower ours."

Alex stared at her.

Then at Blake.

Then at the trees.

Then back at Yang.

"No."

Yang blinked.

"No?"

"You lower yours first."

Blake tilted her head.

"That's not how trust works."

Alex's jaw tightened.

"I'm not trusting you."

The words landed hard.

For a moment, the only sound was the fake smoke hissing from the escape pod.

Then Yang slowly lowered her weapon.

Blake hesitated.

Yang didn't look away from Alex.

"Baker."

A second passed.

Then Blake lowered hers too.

Alex still didn't lower his rifle.

Yang's eyes narrowed.

"Your turn."

Alex remained still.

Then, slowly, he eased his rifle down.

Not completely.

Just enough that it wasn't aimed directly at them anymore.

"Don't make me regret it."

Yang gave him a faint, careful smile.

"That depends on you."

Alex's answer was immediate.

"No."

His eyes moved between them again.

"That depends on all of us."

A beat of silence followed.

"Cut!"

The entire set erupted.

Students started cheering.

The cameraman pulled his face away from the camera, eyes wide.

"That was amazing!"

Yang relaxed instantly, grinning as she turned toward Alex.

"You improvised half of that."

Alex lowered the prop rifle and shrugged.

"Felt right."

Blake stepped out from behind cover, still studying him.

"You heard me move?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

Alex gave her a small grin.

"You were quiet."

He tapped the side of his head.

"But not that quiet."

Blake stared at him for a moment.

Then sighed.

"I don't know whether to be impressed or annoyed."

"Both works."

Yang laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I'll admit it. That was fun."

From the cockpit, I pulled off the headset and leaned back in my seat.

The director was practically beaming.

"That..."

He looked from Alex to Yang and Blake before turning back to the cameraman.

"...was exactly what I wanted."

The cameraman nodded enthusiastically.

"We're keeping almost all of it."

"The improvised dialogue?" Yang asked.

"All of it."

Alex scratched the back of his neck.

"...Sorry."

The director blinked.

"For what?"

"I kinda went off script."

The entire film crew looked at him.

Then burst into laughter.

"Alex."

The director walked over and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You made the scene better."

"I did?"

"Yes!"

He flipped through the script until he found the page.

"Originally, this meeting lasted about thirty seconds."

He held the script up.

"Now?"

He pointed toward the set.

"We've established your character is trained, paranoid, observant, and completely out of his element."

He then pointed toward Yang.

"She comes across as disciplined enough not to escalate the situation."

Finally, he pointed toward Blake.

"And she actually looks like she's providing security instead of just standing there."

Blake glanced toward Alex.

"That was intentional."

Alex nodded.

"If you're covering someone..."

He gestured toward where she'd been standing.

"...your attention shouldn't be on the conversation."

"It should be on everything else."

Blake nodded slowly.

"That makes sense."

One of the camera operators chimed in.

"I also liked the line about lowering the weapons."

Yang laughed.

"I was expecting him to say yes."

"So was I." Blake admitted.

Alex shrugged.

"A soldier who's alone on an unknown planet?"

He shook his head.

"He's not giving up his only advantage because someone politely asked."

The crew grew quiet.

"...Yeah."

The director smiled.

"That actually fits his character perfectly."

Alex looked around.

"I wasn't trying to make him difficult."

"You weren't."

The director folded his script closed.

"You were making him believable."

That earned a few nods from the rest of the crew.

One of the prop designers laughed.

"You know..."

He looked toward the director.

"We should've just asked Alex to help write the protagonist from the beginning."

The director sighed dramatically.

"I would've..."

He pointed at Alex.

"...if I'd known he'd accidentally show up this morning."

Yang smirked.

"Accidentally?"

The director nodded.

"He walked past while we were trying to figure out why our lead actor looked more like he was posing for a recruitment poster than surviving a crash landing."

Several students laughed.

"So..." another second year continued. "...Alex asked if he'd been unconscious."

The director smiled.

"I said yes."

"And then he asked..."

The student looked at Alex.

"...'Then why does his uniform look cleaner than mine after breakfast?'"

The crew erupted into another round of laughter.

Alex shrugged innocently.

"If you're supposed to have crawled out of a wreck..."

He tugged lightly on his vest.

"...you should probably look like you crawled out of a wreck."

The makeup artist threw her hands into the air.

"He then spent twenty minutes helping us dirty up his own costume."

Yang laughed.

"You volunteered?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

Alex looked genuinely puzzled by the question.

"Because the audience notices things."

He looked toward the wrecked escape pod.

"They may not consciously realize why something feels off, but they'll know it feels off."

The director nodded in agreement.

"That's exactly what he said."

He looked around at everyone assembled.

"Alright!"

He clapped his hands together once.

"Ten minute break!"

The set immediately relaxed.

Students wandered toward the refreshments table, while others sat on crates or folded chairs.

Yang walked beside Alex, nudging him with her elbow.

"You know..."

"What?"

"You're kind of a perfectionist."

Alex thought about it.

"...Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I just don't like doing something halfway."

Yang smiled.

"...I can respect that."

Alex smiled back.

"Well..."

He glanced toward the set, where students were already resetting props for the next scene.

"...If we're going to make a movie, we might as well make a good one."

The break didn't last long.

Alex had barely taken a sip from the bottle of water someone handed him before the director called everyone back together.

"Alright!"

He clapped his hands once.

"Next scene!"

Everyone gradually drifted back toward the set.

The director unfolded the next few pages of the script.

"This is the first briefing scene."

He looked at Yang, Blake, and Alex.

"You've successfully taken Sergeant Frostwire into custody."

Alex immediately raised a hand.

The director sighed with a smile.

"...Yes, Alex?"

"I've got a question."

"I was wondering how long it'd take."

The crew laughed.

Alex ignored them.

"If they don't know whether I'm hostile, why would they bring me into a populated command post?"

The director blinked.

"...Because..."

He looked down at the script.

"...That's where the next scene is."

Alex smiled apologetically.

"I know."

"But from a military standpoint..."

He gestured toward himself.

"...I'm an unknown combatant."

He started counting on his fingers.

"You don't know where I came from."

"One."

"You don't know what diseases I might be carrying."

"Two."

"You don't know if I'm carrying tracking equipment."

"Three."

"You don't know if my escape pod has a beacon."

"Four."

"You don't know if I'm bait."

The set became noticeably quieter.

Alex shrugged.

"I'd isolate me first."

The director slowly lowered the script.

"...I hadn't thought about any of that."

"I figured."

One of the production assistants looked concerned.

"So..."

"What would actually happen?"

Alex thought for a moment.

"They'd establish a temporary holding site."

He pointed toward one of the unused prop buildings near the edge of the set.

"Somewhere away from everyone else."

He looked at Yang.

"Your squad keeps security."

Then at Blake.

"She watches the perimeter."

He looked back at the director.

"Then your commanding officer comes to me."

"Not the other way around."

The director looked toward the assistant director.

"...That's..."

The assistant director nodded.

"...Actually a better scene."

The script supervisor was already crossing things out.

"We can rewrite the transition."

Yang laughed.

"You've done it again."

Alex blinked.

"...Done what?"

"You've rewritten another scene."

"Oh..."

He looked around sheepishly.

"...Sorry."

The director shook his head.

"Stop apologizing."

He pointed at the script.

"You're making this movie better."

Alex rubbed the back of his neck.

"I just..."

He searched for the right words.

"...If people who know this stuff watch the movie..."

"...I'd like them to say..."

He smiled slightly.

"...'Yeah, that's probably how it'd happen.'"

The director was quiet for a moment.

Then he smiled.

"I like that."

He snapped the script shut.

"Alright."

He pointed toward the prop building.

"We're changing locations!"

The crew immediately sprang into action.

Students grabbed lights.

Others carried cameras.

Someone began moving crates and folding tables to dress the new set.

Within minutes, what had been an empty storage building was transforming into a temporary forward operating base.

Yang walked alongside Alex as everyone worked.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I've noticed something."

Alex looked at her.

"You don't just tell people what's wrong."

"You explain why."

Alex nodded.

"My dad always said..."

He paused, correcting himself.

"...One of my old teachers always said..."

He smiled.

"Anybody can point out a problem."

He picked up a folding chair and carried it inside.

"It takes someone useful to offer a solution."

Yang watched him disappear into the building before smiling to herself.

"...Yeah."

She quietly followed him inside.

"...That sounds like you."

The set had been transformed surprisingly quickly.

What had once been an empty storage building now resembled a temporary command post. Folding tables were covered in maps and radios, crates served as makeshift seats, and a large holographic star map, projected by one of the engineering students, occupied the center of the room.

Alex sat in a simple metal chair.

His rifle, pistol, and combat knife had all been placed on the table several feet away.

His hands weren't tied.

Mostly because he'd pointed out that if they had wanted to restrain him, they should've done it before asking him to voluntarily surrender his weapons.

The director had agreed.

"Camera!"

"Rolling!"

"Sound!"

"Speed!"

The director looked around the room.

"...Action!"

Yang entered first.

Blake remained by the doorway, rifle slung across her chest as she silently watched every entrance into the room.

Alex looked between them.

"So..."

He leaned back in the chair.

"...Am I finally going to learn who's kidnapping me this time?"

Yang ignored the remark.

"Name."

Alex sighed dramatically.

"We've already done this."

"Humor me."

"Sergeant John Frostwire."

"Rank?"

He blinked.

"I feel like Sergeant already answered that."

A few of the crew behind the cameras snorted.

Yang somehow managed to keep a straight face.

"Unit."

"The one with the coffee machine."

Yang stared at him.

"...Excuse me?"

"The really nice one."

Alex nodded thoughtfully.

"Made decent coffee."

"Sergeant."

"What?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Yang pinched the bridge of her nose.

"...Let's try this again."

She rested both hands on the table.

"What military do you belong to?"

Alex looked around the room.

"I was beginning to wonder when someone would ask the important questions."

"...And?"

"I belong to mine."

Yang's left eye twitched.

Blake glanced away, hiding what looked suspiciously like the beginning of a smile.

Yang took a slow breath.

"Where is your homeworld?"

Alex looked upward as if carefully considering it.

"...Last I checked..."

He looked back at her.

"...Under my feet."

Another muffled laugh came from somewhere behind the cameras.

The director immediately gestured for everyone to stay quiet.

This was working.

Yang exhaled through her nose.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously."

Alex's expression became surprisingly calm.

"I don't think you have any reason to trust what I say."

That caught Yang off guard.

The sarcasm disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

"You've never heard of my people."

He nodded toward the window.

"I've never heard of yours."

He gestured toward the room around him.

"We're both trying to figure out if the other one's about to start a war."

The room fell quiet.

Then...

Alex leaned back again.

"So..."

He folded his arms.

"...Until we get there..."

He looked back at Yang.

"...I'm going to have a little fun."

Yang couldn't help herself.

A tiny smile escaped before she quickly hid it.

"So you admit you're being difficult."

"I admit I'm being entertained."

Blake finally spoke from the doorway.

"He's stalling."

Alex looked over.

"I prefer the term 'maintaining operational security.'"

"That's not what you're doing."

"No."

He smiled.

"It just sounds more professional."

Even Blake let out the faintest huff of amusement.

The director's grin was growing wider by the second.

None of this had been in the script.

Yang folded her arms.

"Alright."

She pulled out a small data pad and set it on the table.

"Let's try something simpler."

Alex gestured toward it.

"Be my guest."

"What species are you?"

Alex looked down at himself.

He held out an arm.

"Judging by the lack of scales..."

He turned his hand over.

"...the absence of feathers..."

He wiggled his fingers.

"...and my unfortunate inability to breathe underwater..."

He looked back up.

"...I'm going to go with human."

Yang stared at him.

"...I walked into that one."

"You did."

She sighed.

"Home nation?"

Alex smiled.

"You're getting warmer."

"And?"

"It's classified."

"No, it isn't."

"It is to you."

Yang leaned closer.

"You're not making this easy."

Alex shrugged.

"You haven't exactly earned the hard answers."

Blake finally stepped away from the doorway.

She circled around behind Alex, stopping just outside his peripheral vision.

"Can I ask a question?"

Alex didn't turn.

"You just did."

She blinked.

"...May I ask another?"

"You're on a roll."

The crew behind the cameras struggled to contain themselves.

Blake ignored them.

"You've been watching every exit since we brought you in."

Alex nodded once.

"Yep."

"You noticed."

"You're counting."

"What?"

"The doors."

He pointed with his eyes rather than his hands.

"Main entrance. Emergency exit. Window."

He looked toward the ceiling.

"Ventilation duct."

Yang frowned.

"You noticed all of that?"

Alex looked genuinely confused.

"...Didn't you?"

The room went quiet.

Blake looked around.

She'd only noticed three exits.

Alex had found a fourth.

She slowly looked back at him.

"...You've also been watching reflections."

Alex gave a tiny smile.

"There."

Yang looked around the room.

"What reflections?"

Alex nodded toward the polished metal coffee pot sitting on a shelf behind Yang.

"That one."

Yang turned.

Sure enough...

The polished metal reflected almost the entire room.

Alex hadn't needed to turn around once to know Blake had moved.

The director quietly whispered to the script supervisor.

"Keep this."

The supervisor didn't even question it.

Already writing.

Yang looked back at Alex.

"So you're observant."

"Occupational hazard."

"You trust no one."

"I trust evidence."

"And what does the evidence say about us?"

Alex was silent for a moment.

Then answered honestly.

"You haven't hurt me."

He looked at Yang.

"You haven't threatened me."

Then at Blake.

"You've kept your weapon pointed at the floor instead of my head."

He nodded once.

"So..."

His posture relaxed by a fraction.

"The evidence says, you want answers."

Yang tilted her head.

"And?"

"I can work with that."

She smiled faintly.

"That almost sounded like trust."

Alex smiled back.

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

Another ripple of laughter spread through the film crew.

The director quietly leaned toward one of the writers.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I think Sergeant Frostwire just became my favorite character."

The writer looked toward Alex, who was still calmly answering questions with equal parts caution and sarcasm.

"...Yeah."

"I can see why."

Yang rested both hands on the table.

"So..."

She studied Alex for a moment.

"You're clearly trained."

Alex shrugged.

"I've been told."

"You're disciplined."

"I have my moments."

"You're also avoiding every meaningful question I've asked."

Alex nodded.

"That one was intentional."

Yang let out an amused sigh.

"Alright."

She picked up the data pad again.

"Let's change tactics."

She looked him square in the eyes.

"What happened to your squad?"

The room fell quiet.

Even the film crew seemed to instinctively stop moving.

Alex's expression didn't change.

Not at first.

Then...

The sarcasm disappeared.

"My squad?"

He looked down at the tabletop for just a second.

"...They died."

Yang blinked.

The answer had come so quickly she almost wasn't prepared for it.

"You're serious."

Alex looked back up.

"You asked."

The room remained silent.

Yang chose her next words carefully.

"How?"

Alex held her gaze.

"In ways I'd rather not relive."

His voice wasn't cold.

It wasn't angry.

It was simply...

Tired.

Yang slowly nodded.

"...Fair."

The mood in the room shifted.

Alex noticed.

Almost immediately.

"So..."

He looked around the room.

"...Anybody else got any depressing questions?"

The tension broke instantly.

Several members of the crew laughed.

Yang shook her head.

"You do that on purpose."

"What?"

"You crack a joke the moment things get serious."

Alex leaned back in his chair.

"Wouldn't you?"

"No."

"You should try it."

"It doesn't solve anything."

"No."

He smiled faintly.

"But it makes the silence less awkward."

Even Blake had to admit...

"...He's got a point."

Yang looked back down at the data pad.

"One final question."

Alex gestured for her to continue.

"Why didn't you shoot us?"

Alex tilted his head.

"I considered it."

Yang's eyebrow rose.

"...Comforting."

"You asked."

"You're right, I did."

Alex nodded toward her rifle.

"You approached carefully."

He glanced toward Blake.

"Your friend maintained security instead of escalating."

He folded his hands on the table.

"You gave me opportunities to avoid a fight."

He smiled.

"I generally try to take those."

Yang studied him for a moment.

"So violence isn't your first choice."

Alex laughed.

"No."

He looked around the room.

"Contrary to popular belief, paperwork is."

The entire set erupted into laughter.

Even the director doubled over.

"Oh..."

He wiped a tear from his eye.

"...That one's staying."

Alex blinked.

"The paperwork joke?"

"The paperwork joke."

Alex sighed dramatically.

"I've created a monster."

The director grinned.

"No..."

He pointed toward Alex.

"You're creating a franchise."

That finally earned the loudest laugh of the day.

The director finally managed to compose himself.

He wiped the tears from his eyes before looking back toward the set.

"Alright..."

He took a deep breath.

"I think we've struck gold with this interrogation scene."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Because of the paperwork?"

"Because of you."

Alex looked genuinely confused.

"What'd I do?"

The director stared at him for a long moment.

"You made your character feel like a real person."

He tapped the script against his palm.

"Most people would've played him like some action hero."

He pointed toward Alex.

"You played him like a tired professional."

Alex shrugged.

"Well...he's been through a lot. So the audience doesn't need him telling them that."

The script supervisor looked up from her notes.

"They can see it."

Alex nodded approvingly.

"Exactly."

The director smiled.

"...I'm stealing that."

"Go for it."

One of the writers stepped forward.

"Can I ask something?"

Alex looked over.

"Sure."

"Why all the sarcasm?"

The rest of the crew looked interested.

Alex leaned back against the table.

"Simple."

He folded his arms.

"If my character starts acting scared, he gives away control."

The writer frowned thoughtfully.

"And the jokes?"

"They let him choose the rhythm of the conversation."

He nodded toward Yang.

"She keeps asking questions. She controls the interview."

He pointed toward himself.

"I answer with sarcasm. Now she's reacting to me."

The room became quiet.

Alex continued.

"Humor throws people off."

He shrugged.

"They expect fear. They get attitude. They expect panic. They get confidence."

He smiled.

"And while they're trying to figure out whether I'm brave or stupid..."

He tapped the side of his head.

"...I'm figuring them out."

The writer slowly nodded.

"...That's actually..."

He looked at the director.

"...Really clever."

Yang crossed her arms.

"So..."

She grinned.

"You're saying you were profiling us."

Alex looked at her.

"Absolutely."

"And?"

"You're the leader."

Yang blinked.

"How'd you figure that?"

"You're asking the questions."

He pointed toward Blake.

"She watches."

"She speaks only when she thinks it'll matter."

Blake nodded slightly.

"Accurate."

Alex continued.

"You're the face."

He pointed back to Yang.

"She'd rather be the knife."

Blake actually smiled.

"...I like that."

Yang laughed.

"So what's your read on me?"

Alex didn't hesitate.

"You care too much."

Yang's smile faltered.

"You carry responsibility well."

He tilted his head.

"But you carry guilt even better."

The room fell silent.

Yang stared at him for a second.

"...That wasn't in the script."

"No."

"It wasn't."

The director looked between them.

"...Keep rolling."

Nobody argued.

Nobody even looked away from the camera.

The scene had drifted so far from the original script that it barely resembled what they'd written that morning.

Yang glanced toward the table where Alex's equipment had been laid out.

"Tell me about your weapons."

She stepped closer, studying the rifle with open curiosity.

"They're clearly nothing like our plasma weapons."

Alex followed her gaze.

A faint smile crossed his face.

"They're not."

He nodded toward the rifle first.

"That there is an M1918A1 Browning Automatic Rifle."

He spoke with the familiarity of someone introducing an old friend.

"She's been fitted with a four power magnified optic, a suppressor, and a forty round magazine chambered in .30-06 Springfield."

His hand hovered over the weapon but never touched it.

"She has both semi-automatic and fully automatic fire."

He smiled faintly.

"And she's old. Older than me, actually."

Yang looked impressed.

"You name your weapons?"

Alex shrugged.

"Not usually."

"She doesn't need one."

He motioned to the pistol beside it.

"That's my FN 545 Tactical." He said. "It has a twenty round extended magazine. Red dot sight. Flashlight. And compensator."

His hand shifted one final time toward the long blade resting beside the rifle.

"And that's an M1903 Springfield sixteen inch sword bayonet."

Yang blinked.

"...Sword bayonet?"

Alex nodded.

"Long enough to function as both."

She looked back at the rifle.

"They're nothing like plasma weapons."

"No."

Alex smiled.

"They're black powder firearms."

Yang frowned.

"I'm not familiar with any of those names..."

She looked back up at him.

"...or this 'black powder' you mentioned."

"I wouldn't expect you to be."

Alex folded his arms.

"They're from my planet."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Black powder, more commonly called gunpowder where I'm from, is the chemical propellant that launches the projectile."

Yang tilted her head.

"A chemical?"

"Yep."

Alex nodded.

"The traditional form is made by grinding together three ingredients in very specific proportions."

He began counting on his fingers.

"Potassium nitrate, charcoal, and sulfur."

He looked toward the rifle again.

"When ignited, the mixture burns extremely rapidly. It creates a large volume of expanding gas."

He mimed the motion of a bullet traveling down a barrel.

"That pressure forces the projectile down the barrel at tremendous speed."

Yang looked genuinely fascinated.

"So..."

She gestured toward the rifle.

"...There aren't any energy cells?"

"No."

"Power cores?"

"Nope."

"Plasma cartridges?"

Alex shook his head.

"Just chemistry."

For a moment, Yang simply stared at the weapons.

"...Your people figured out how to weaponize an explosion."

Alex smiled.

"Pretty much."

Blake finally spoke from her place against the wall.

"That sounds..."

She searched for the right word.

"...dangerous."

Alex let out a short laugh.

"Oh, absolutely."

He looked between the two of them.

"My species has always had a habit of taking dangerous things, and asking how they could make them more dangerous."

The director immediately pointed at the script supervisor.

"Write."

The supervisor sighed with a smile.

"Already doing it."

A ripple of laughter spread across the set.

Yang looked down at the rifle once more.

"So... every time you pull the trigger..."

"...You're setting off a controlled explosion?"

Alex nodded.

"Thousands of them."

She blinked.

"...Thousands?"

"One for every round fired."

He pointed toward the rifle.

"The explosion sends the bullet down the barrel."

He then gestured toward the suppressor.

"That helps redirect and slow the escaping gases."

Yang looked genuinely impressed.

"And people willingly shoulder that?"

Alex laughed.

"Yep."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"The first few times."

He shrugged.

"After that, your body learns what to expect."

Blake studied the pistol.

"And this one works the same way?"

"Same principle."

Alex nodded.

"Different cartridge. Different size."

He smiled faintly.

"But the science's the same."

Yang picked up the unloaded magazine lying beside the rifle, turning it over in her hands.

"These are... projectiles?"

"Brass cartridges."

Alex corrected gently.

"The projectile's only the part that leaves the barrel."

He pointed to the tip.

"Bullet."

Then to the casing.

"Case."

The base.

"Primer."

Finally, the interior.

"And inside..."

He tapped it lightly.

"...is the powder."

Yang looked between the magazine and Alex.

"So every one of these is a tiny explosion waiting to happen."

"More or less."

"...Your people are insane."

Alex didn't even hesitate.

"Oh, absolutely."

Yang laughed.

"At least you're honest."

Alex folded his arms.

"My species looked at controlled explosions, then decided they weren't exciting enough."

The corners of his mouth curled upward.

"So we made them portable."

The entire film crew burst into laughter.

Even the boom operator had to lower his microphone for a second.

The director was wiping tears from his eyes.

"I swear..."

He pointed at Alex.

"You can't keep giving us lines like that."

"I wasn't trying to."

"That makes it worse!"

Blake looked back at Alex.

"One last question."

He nodded.

"Go ahead."

"If your world's weapons are that effective, why carry a knife?"

Alex looked at the bayonet.

Then back at Blake.

"Because eventually..." He smiled. "...you run out of bullets."

The room went completely silent.

It wasn't the answer anyone expected.

There wasn't any bravado in his voice.

No attempt to sound intimidating.

Just simple fact.

After a moment, Yang slowly nodded.

"...Fair enough."

The director held the silence for another couple of seconds.

Then a wide grin spread across his face.

He clapped his hands together.

"Cut!"

The room immediately relaxed.

Conversations broke out all around the set as the actors dropped out of character.

The director pointed at Alex.

"That's the take."

He looked toward the camera crew.

"We're keeping that one."

"Glad you liked it." Alex said with an easy smile.

"Oh, I did." The director replied. "More than liked it, actually."

He looked around at the exhausted cast and crew, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone! That's a wrap for today."

A chorus of relieved cheers answered him.

"Let's get everything cleaned up and packed away. Cameras back in their cases, props to storage, costumes hung up properly. You all know the routine."

The students immediately dispersed, each heading toward their assigned tasks.

The director turned back to Alex.

"As for you..."

He smiled appreciatively.

"You and your friends are free to head out."

He tapped the script against his palm.

"The next few scenes don't involve Sergeant Frostwire or his newfound companions."

He chuckled.

"And after today's rewrite, I've got plenty of work to do before tomorrow."

Alex rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry about that."

The director laughed.

"Don't apologize."

He held up the heavily annotated script.

"You've given me a better movie than the one I started with this morning."

He extended a hand.

"We'll see you four tomorrow."

Alex shook it firmly.

"Gotcha."

As he turned to leave, the director called after him one last time.

"Oh, and try not to accidentally rewrite the rest of my script overnight."

Alex looked back over his shoulder with a crooked grin.

"No promises."

The director groaned dramatically.

"I knew you were going to say that."

The four of us laughed as we headed away from the set, leaving the second years to their cleanup while the sounds of students packing equipment gradually faded behind us.

The afternoon sun hung low over Beacon as we made our way back across campus.

Students passed us in both directions, some heading toward late-afternoon classes, others returning from training.

Yang stretched her arms over her head with a satisfied sigh.

"I'll admit..."

She glanced over at Alex.

"That was a lot more fun than I expected."

Alex chuckled.

"Glad you enjoyed it."

"You're a surprisingly good actor." Blake added.

Alex shrugged.

"I wasn't really acting."

That earned three confused looks.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Well..."

He thought for a moment.

"Everything Sergeant Frostwire said made sense to me."

"I just imagined waking up on an alien planet."

Yang laughed.

"So your first instinct would really be to point a rifle at us?"

"If I didn't know whether you were friendly?"

He nodded.

"Absolutely."

Yang looked mildly offended.

"I would've been nice."

"You also would've been armed."

"...Fair."

Blake looked over thoughtfully.

"And the sarcasm?"

Alex smiled.

"That part wasn't acting either."

"I figured." I muttered.

He ignored me.

"If you're scared and somebody's asking questions..."

He shrugged.

"...Sometimes sarcasm keeps them from realizing you're scared."

Yang looked at him for a moment.

"You've done that before."

Alex's smile faded just a little.

"Maybe."

He didn't elaborate.

Fortunately, Yang didn't press.

Instead, Nora came bounding around the corner, nearly colliding with us.

"There you are!"

She skidded to a stop.

"We've been looking all over for you!"

Alex blinked.

"Should I be concerned?"

"No!"

She grinned.

"Dinner!"

Alex looked toward the sky.

"...What time is it?"

"Almost six."

He stopped walking.

"...Well."

He sighed dramatically.

"I suppose I'd better go save everyone from Andy's cooking."

I frowned.

"My cooking isn't that bad."

Alex looked at Yang.

"He once undercooked toast."

Yang burst into laughter.

"...How?"

"I still don't know!"

Alex nodded solemnly.

"Neither do science."

"Oh, hush."

He grinned.

"Can't."

"Why?"

"Contractually obligated."

"With who?"

"Myself."

Yang shook her head, laughing.

"You really do have an answer for everything."

Alex thought for a second.

"No."

"What?"

"I just make one up fast enough that people think I do."

I pointed at him.

"That explains so much."

He smiled.

"I know."

The five of us continued toward the dorms, laughing and trading jokes as Beacon slowly settled into the evening.

Behind us, the movie set was already disappearing as students packed away cameras, props, and lights.

Tomorrow they'd be back to filming.

And somehow...

I had a feeling Alex would accidentally become even more involved than he already was.
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A/N: And done. kuwebby2, what do you think?