The filming site was a complete mess, both physically and mentally, with thoughts scattered everywhere like shattered pieces. Although the shoot had ended, the three actors remained slumped in place, motionless, with only their chests heaving as they tried to process the lingering emotions.
Anson glanced at Heath, noticed Heath's gaze, and then looked at Rachel. Heath's eyes shifted between Anson and Rachel before settling on Anson again. Rachel glanced at both Anson and Heath, her eyes filled with lingering fear.
The three of them exchanged looks, eyeing each other drenched in sweat and utterly disheveled. Reality finally started sinking in—
Anson was the first to break, "You guys should really see yourselves."
"Yeah, right, you should see yourself."
"Look who's talking! You look like you just got fished out of a lake."
"Haha, soaking wet, haha."
"You should see your own face. You honestly look like a pighead."
"You're the pighead. I'm filing a work injury claim. Just wait, I'm calling the union. Anson Wood, abusing his power to assault a handsome genius actor."
"Is 'genius' the key point, or 'handsome'?"
Laughter, and it wouldn't stop.
The silence on set was finally broken. The entire crew gawked at the three actors, sitting in the mud, looking like a disaster but acting completely nonchalant, as if they were enjoying a campfire. The costume team cast desperate glances at Eric for help—
If they had to reshoot this scene, they'd have no outfits left.
However, the three actors seemed completely oblivious, sitting on the ground, chatting and laughing, as if they were at a casual party.
Eric hesitated a little. He knew he should go over and talk to them, check in on some details with the actors, but seeing their genuine, carefree smiles, he sat back down in his seat. Just a bit longer, he thought. They need some time.
They had already shot this scene seven times. The actors were more than familiar with it by now—knowing when to go all in, when to hold back, what was on camera and what wasn't. Every detail was crystal clear, and their coordination had developed into a kind of unspoken understanding—
The fight? Half-real, half-acted.
Some shots required close-ups. To create a sense of realism, both Anson and Heath were actually throwing punches, not holding back, because if they faked it, the muscle tension would look wrong on screen.
Other shots, like the wide angles, were choreographed with camera tricks. In the final part, where Evan loses control and beats Tommy to death, Anson was actually punching the ground near Heath's head. But he still punched with full force, leaving his fists red and swollen, even bleeding.
The baseball bat they used was custom-made, made of foam to appear solid but remain harmless, allowing the actors to swing with full strength without worrying about any real accidents.
Despite all this, to maintain realism—and because they were fully immersed in their roles—both Anson and Heath really got heated during the fight.
They'd tried not going all out in some scenes, but even when the camera wasn't zoomed in, if the punches weren't landing with force, it just didn't feel right. Their minds had to stay clear to avoid losing control, but that meant they couldn't fully embody their characters.
So, after some discussion, they agreed to aim for thicker parts of the body and punch with all their strength, avoiding vital areas as much as possible to stay in character.
And now, they had gone all in.
Anson's fists were split open, and his abdomen and waist were covered in bruises. Heath's lip was split, his jaw swollen, and he had a small scrape near his eye.
Both of them sat there, drenched in sweat, muddy and out of breath, looking at each other. Neither could hold back a laugh.
And then there was Rachel—
"Oh my God, forget Anson, I gave that guy a real beating. What happened to you? Did Evan hit you too?"
Heath had barely spoken when all three of them burst into laughter again. Rachel, also drenched and covered in mud, looked like she'd just fought a hurricane.
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Please, you guys think it's easy for a female character to just scream and run, huh? That's hard work too!"
She took off her 8-centimeter high heels and showed them.
No words were needed. Heath and Anson immediately shut up.
Rachel couldn't hold back either. She looked at Anson, "This time, it felt right."
After seven takes—five if you don't count the outtakes—they had been searching for a seamless, emotionally consistent performance. Was this it?
Not just Rachel, Heath also thought for a moment and looked at Anson.
Not because Anson was the producer and the biggest star of the cast, but because working with him had earned their respect. Anson's insight into the characters and the story was genuinely impressive. Fresh chapters posted on novel✦fire.net
Heath thought he was crazy enough, but compared to Anson, he had to admit defeat.
Anson felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn't confidence or arrogance that he sensed, but rather the responsibility and pressure that came with leadership.
He didn't rush to answer. Instead, he thought carefully, reviewing the entire scene in his mind, filling in every detail. When the whole picture became vivid in his head, he looked up.
"I'm good with it. What about you guys?"
Anson didn't make the final call right away. He looked up at Rachel and Heath.
Heath considered it seriously for a moment. "I think this is the direction we've been looking for."
After so much effort, so much collaboration and experimentation, they'd done it. Satisfaction washed over them, filling their chests with a warm glow. As their eyes met, soft smiles crept onto their faces.
Mackie, noticing the bond between the three, had waited patiently but couldn't hold back any longer. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Only then did Anson and the others notice Mackie's arrival.
Sensing their attention, Mackie quickly smiled, "So, how do you all feel?"
Initially, Mackie and Eric had no ambition to direct. They were content just following the script. But as filming progressed, the subtle nuances the actors brought to the characters started filling in the story in ways they hadn't expected.
How could the two directors, who knew the script so well, not notice?
More importantly, how could they resist?
No one understood the script better than they did, and no one understood how the actors' interpretations made the story flow better.
So they showed up, beaming with excitement, their hands rubbing together eagerly like little flies.