[3 months later] [November]
"Lost in Translation" had become the cinematic phenomenon of the year. With a modest $5 million budget, it soared to an impressive $135 million in global box office revenue, marking a 27-fold return on investment. Critics lauded its nuanced storytelling and performances, while audiences were captivated by its emotional depth. Alex Wilson once again proved why he's called the Golden Boy of Hollywood.
The New Yorker called it "a masterclass in emotional silence, anchored by performances that speak louder than any monologue."
The Guardian praised Alex's direction, stating, "Wilson doesn't just direct scenes, he curates moments. Lost in Translation lingers long after the credits roll."
RogerEbert.com gave it four stars, writing, "This isn't just a movie. It's a mood, a memory, and a quiet ache that settles into your chest."
Variety wrote, "What began as a whisper now echoes across the globe. Wilson made a film for the soul."
On Rotten Tomatoes, it held a 96% Fresh rating.
Audiences simply said, "It made me feel something I didn't know I needed."
Rumors spread fast: the movie had been officially submitted to the Academy. Best Picture. Best Director. Best Actor. Best Actress. The entire industry now held its breath.
Tom Hanks and Scarlett Johansson were hailed for career-defining performances. Anna Faris' breakout supporting role sparked a wave of new offers. Rachel found herself fielding calls from every major celebrity and director. Well, the Wilson Studios were too busy...
Everything was going great.
...
Then came the next big move: Angelina Jolie. (She'll have her own mini arc & fun)
After a brief interview, she signed an exclusive contract for six movies with Wilson Studios. Her career had been in a slump, and she was considering doing explicit shoots and B-grade movies. But since the golden boy of Hollywood wanted her exclusively for his upcoming projects, she grasped the chance without thinking twice. Till she completes those six movies, she won't be able to work for other studios or any movies or TV series. And she'll be receiving a stable salary during this period of the contract.
Her first movie, "Mr. & Mrs. Smith," is already in production and the casting phase.
Angelina's decision to join Wilson Studios marked a significant turning point in her career. With the studio's track record of producing critically acclaimed and commercially successful films, expectations were high for her upcoming projects. The industry buzzed with anticipation as fans and critics alike awaited the reinvention of Angelina Jolie under the visionary direction of Alex Wilson.
As for the remaining 5 movies, well, we'll see when the time comes...
...
Next was Titan Comics & the cupcake girls.
With the release of new comics and the release of the DC series, which was an instant hit, the profit margin just went over the top of what Alex actually projected. Merchandise, props, clothes, drinks, and many other things were launched under the 'Titan' name.
His team was already working on the store job. They opened multiple stores across the USA and are extending their reach further.
Max and Caroline's bakery was now blooming even more than before, thanks to the exclusive rights to make cakes, cookies, and other food related to the Titan Comics. It's like an exclusive thing where certain food would only be available in limited quantities in their shop. They opened six outlets in the last three months. Caroline was managing everything like a pro as usual, and Max was really happy, though she occasionally tries to cut work and sneak out of her duty as a responsible owner.
All in all, they were busy.
Oh, not to forget, Claire Guinness. Her wedding is in December. Apparently her fiancé got a promotion and had to leave for Italy for a few months, so it was delayed. And now she wants a new cake. A model of Harley Quinn. And all the other drinks, cupcakes, and cookies, she wants Max and Caroline to supply. Well, considering her character, it's most likely that she'll change it again and again...
...
[Now, let's move on to the set.]
Alien: Day One on Set
Location: Stage 12, Wilson Studios Backlot (He bought out everything around the studio)
Date: Tuesday, 7:42 AM
The set was enormous.
Stage 12 had been fully converted into the Nostromo, the grim, industrial spaceship that would carry seven characters to their cinematic doom. Walls were lined with pipes and exposed metal ribs, all painted in dark tones and textured like machinery designed for function, not comfort. Steam hissed from vents in calculated intervals. Dim, flickering lights made every corridor feel unsafe. And every sound echoed.
Alex stood in the middle of it, black hoodie pushed up to his elbows, coffee in hand, headset resting on his neck. He looked around like a man who had time-traveled into one of his own memories. Any other directors would have used other methods to cut the budget, but not him. He poured money like water to built the freaking space ship behind his studio. It took three months of nonstop work and professional help. But it was now completed.
And today was the first day of the shoot. Every prop was in place. Alex had already taken six walks around the set to make sure everything was perfect.
"Jesus," Rachel whispered behind him, arms crossed, jaw slightly slack. "It feels... claustrophobic already."
"That's the point," Alex said quietly.
Every inch of the ship was practical. No green screens. No fake textures. This ship could be walked, touched, breathed in. It was dirty and cold and perfectly real.
Scarlett walked onto set in her Ripley uniform. High-waisted utility pants. Boots. Sleeveless undershirt. Her curls were pulled back in a low ponytail, face bare of any glam. She looked like she hadn't slept for twelve hours. It was exactly what Alex wanted.
"Morning," she said, voice rough from lack of sleep and zero caffeine. "Where's the cat?"
Alex grinned. "Sleeping in makeup. Diva."
Scarlett chuckled and glanced around. "Okay. Yeah. This is... creepy. I love it."
"You ready?" he asked.
She looked at him, eyes steady. "I was born ready. But also terrified. But mostly ready."
Behind them, the rest of the cast was arriving. John Hurt. Harry Dean Stanton. Ian Holm. Tom Skerritt. Veronica Cartwright. Yaphet Kotto.
They'd all signed on without hesitation. Every one of them wanted to work with Wilson Studios. There were big paychecks and working with Alex means a hit movie and fame.
30 minutes later...
Alex stood behind the monitor bank, his eyes scanning the cryochamber set. The room was bathed in a cold, bluish hue, with condensation clinging to the glass surfaces of the hypersleep pods. Each pod looked both futuristic and utilitarian.
He turned to the crew.
"Roll camera. Scene one, take one. Action."
[CRYOCHAMBER]
A low hum resonated as the hypersleep systems initiated the wake-up sequence. Monitors flickered to life, displaying vital signs stabilizing.
Inside the pods, the crew stirred.
Scarlett Johansson, portraying Ripley, opened her eyes slowly, the cold air causing her breath to mist. She sat up, disoriented, her muscles stiff from prolonged stasis. The camera captured her every movement, emphasizing the vulnerability and realism of the moment.
Tom Skerritt, as Dallas, emerged from his pod, rubbing his temples.
"Feels like I've been asleep for a century," he muttered.
John Hurt (Kane) and Veronica Cartwright (Lambert) followed, each displaying subtle nuances of grogginess and confusion.
Yaphet Kotto (Parker) stretched, cracking his neck.
"Next time, I'm bringing a pillow," he joked, eliciting a chuckle from Harry Dean Stanton (Brett).
Ian Holm (Ash) remained composed, his movements calculated.
The crew donned their uniforms, the fabric slightly damp from condensation. They continued talking among themselves, one was doing a little pull-up, another one was busy looking through his belongings. After the scene completed, they moved towards the mess hall, the metallic clang of their boots echoing through the corridors.
[INT. MONITORING STATION – CONTINUOUS SHOT]
Alex observed the scene, his expression unreadable.
"Cut," he said finally.
The room fell silent.
He turned to the crew.
"Great work, everyone. Let's reset for the next scene. 30 minutes..."
...
The rest of the day moved like a well-oiled machine. Alex didn't raise his voice once, but somehow, the entire set bent to his rhythm. Crew members scrambled efficiently. Lighting techs adjusted levels with the precision of surgeons. Sound design checked every echo and hiss against pre-recorded cues. The production team ran behind the scenes like a covert military operation.
Every department was firing at full capacity. There were no breakdowns. No missed marks. No egos.
The ship felt alive.
In the engineering bay, Kotto and Stanton rehearsed a scene that called for slow-building tension. Nothing overt. Just a subtle friction between their characters, Parker and Brett, as they debated resource allocation. No explosions. No threats. Just the sense that things were already beginning to fracture beneath the surface. Alex hovered nearby, hands in his hoodie pocket, watching closely.
"Slower," he said. "Not bored. Cautious. You're not angry yet, just... skeptical."
They adjusted. He nodded.
It was exactly what he needed.
In another part of the set, Scarlett ran her scene in the ship's computer room. She crouched by the glowing console, typing commands into "Mother" as a low alarm pulsed faintly in the background. The camera pushed in slowly, capturing the faint twitch of uncertainty behind Ripley's eyes. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Her silence said everything.
Later, in the mess hall, the entire cast sat down for the pivotal "first meal" scene. They laughed, joked, argued lightly about their mission status, and shared canned protein like it was fine dining. The chemistry was natural, raw, and quietly tense.
The camera floated slowly around them, never cutting, never breaking the illusion that this crew had known each other for years.
Alex called a cut. Then watched the playback.
He didn't smile.
He never smiled on day one. But he looked up at Rachel, who had appeared silently beside him, holding a clipboard and a bottle of water.
"This might work," he said.
Rachel rolled her eyes. "You built a goddamn spaceship, Alex. Of course it's going to work."
By mid-afternoon, the team was ahead of schedule. Five pages shot. Two major scenes completed. Even the cinematographer, a grizzled veteran with a deep voice and eternally squinting eyes, seemed impressed.
"This your first time doing horror?" he asked during a lighting reset.
Alex didn't look away from the monitor. "You can say that."
By 3 PM, Scarlett was back in her trailer, a towel around her shoulders, sipping from a thermos. She scrolled through her phone, her muscles still twitching from the last take. Max had sent a photo of a whiteboard that read: "Caroline's Boob Power Rankings" with a list underneath. Max was at the top. Caroline was in second. Lilly was in third. Scarlett's name wasn't even on it.
Scarlett smirked and replied: You bitches are about to see some alien-enhanced cleavage. Just wait.
Max's response: Bring it, NASA tits.
Back on set, the mood stayed professional.
By 4:15, the final scene of the day took place in the cargo bay.
Low lights. Dripping pipes. Tension thick enough to chew.
Kotto and Johansson stood over a blinking console, murmuring about something moving in the walls. It wasn't even the real alien scene. Just the idea of it. That was enough. Fear without presence. Suspense without the reveal. Alex watched the shot from behind the monitor, leaning forward as the camera slowly pushed in on Scarlett's face.
No cuts. No background score. Just the sound of her breath catching in her throat.
Then: silence.
Cut.
Alex sat back, finally exhaling.
"That's it," he called. "Day one's a wrap."
The studio lights began to dim. Crew members high-fived. Someone clapped. Scarlett slumped into a folding chair, stretching her legs, boots dirty, sweat still clinging to her shoulders.
Rachel handed Alex a folder with the daily report. He didn't open it.
"I'll read it later."
He walked to the center of the set, glancing around the empty Nostromo corridors one more time before the lights fully shut down. The practical ship loomed silently behind him, waiting for the next day. Waiting for the nightmare to begin.
By 5 PM sharp, the doors to Stage 12 were sealed. Security locked it tight.
Alien had begun. And Hollywood had no idea what was coming.
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AN: Due to the timeskip, Lilly's birthday was missed. But maybe next time. As for the arc. The first part will deal with the Movie Shooting and MC's past, plus intro of other series.
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[7 advance chs] + [17 chs of Two and a Half Men: Waking up as Charlie Harper] [All chs available for all tiers]
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