I grip the top edge of the doorframe and front-flip into the plane’s fuselage, landing low and silent in a crouch behind Electra. My movements are fluid and twisting, giving the post-production team as much to work with as possible when they add in Melinoë’s shadow effects.
Like a cat in the bushes, I move slowly, setting up my strike.
Out of the corner of my eye, I track the camera. Once it hits the perfect position, I pounce.
Christine’s quiet gasp as she startles is real, but we practiced enough that she still blocks my lunge, stepping around to keep the Thunder Stone out-of-reach.
“Melinoë! You don’t need to do this, your father?—”
I strike again, forcing Electra onto the defensive. She dodges. Then again. And again. I start slow, gradually speeding up, helping Christine find the rhythm as I push and pull her in front of the camera.
We carefully watch for our marks, hitting the high-tension moments when the camera is in just the right spot. I clamber along the ceiling and drop down onto Christine, hooking an arm around her neck. She slams me into the wall and I sell the impact, then slide off and reset.
A few passes later, she goes on the offensive, and I use her own momentum to throw her into padding disguised as a tarp in the cargo nets.
All the while, the cabin blares with alarms, lights flashing.
The longer the scene continues, the more we sink into it. Electra snarls, huffs, and pleads.
I play off her energy, taunting and leading, feinting a few times just to make her flinch.
Slowly, we build toward the climactic moment. As I lunge for her, I pretend to miss, soaring out the open door and landing on the wing. The danger feels real, clambering over a slippery plane sixty feet high, and it keeps me agile and sharp.
The camera follows me over and around as I clamber over the top of the plane, then drop back through the other open door and swing a kick into Electra from behind.
Electra stumbles forward, then pushes off the inside wall of the fuselage, using the force to increase the speed of her lunge.
I let it come. She locks iron-strong arms around my waist, but I take that chance to slip the Thunder Stone from her neck, making sure it’s out-of-view for the camera.
Once the stone is secure in my hand, I reach out for the conduits and use them to yank myself upwards and out of her grip.
I turn a smug look at Electra, waiting as the camera slides around to the right spot for the next maneuver. The rig shudders in warning, and I begin the countdown for the hit.
Three… two… one.
I let go, and as I drop, it looks like I’ll land on my feet. As-planned, the plane lurches, and the floor smacks across my back. My toes get down in the nick of time to protect my tailbone, and pain rings through my shoulders. Still in control, I slam my arms into the metal, making aclangthat sounds likeI hit my head. My body goes limp, and I slide toward the open door as the rig tips further.
I convince my body to stay totally relaxed, forcing an exhale as I trust the rig to do what it’s been designed to do and drop me right over the airbag. If everything’s gone to plan, the frame for the net has folded neatly out of the way, and the camera will follow its track to chase my fall.
I’ll slide out on my side, tipping myself to face the ground as I go. That’ll let me spot my mark on the airbag and flip onto my back at the last second.
Nothing to do but trust that everything’s in place.
As I feel empty air under my shoulder, I open my eyes and begin to turn over. The bright red circle on the center of the airbag is directly underneath me, and I surrender to the fall.
My heart pounds in my ears. I slip into the open air.
Something hot and tight closes around my wrist.
My fall wrenches to a stop as pain tears through my shoulder, turning into a choked scream in my throat.
Fucking hell.
Adrenaline and experience keep me focused. I hang from my arm, and my shoulder isdefinitelydislocated. I take a steadying breath and look up.
The iron force holding my wrist is Christine’s hand. Beyond it, I glimpse her fear-stricken face.
If she drops me now, I’m fucked. I don’t have any leverage to start a spin, and if I hit the airbag feet-first, I could easily break a leg—or worse.
