Nobody on the set could get over it. Billy had dropped like the shot was real, no flinch, no bracing for it, just going down where he stood. Whatever it was, it hadn’t looked like acting.
It carried the others with it. The background players working the pirate crew came off shaken right along with him, and that only made the take land harder. In the story, that was the whole turn of the scene: their captain dies in an instant, right in front of his men, and it breaks them. They run because they’ve decided the man standing over him isn’t a man at all. An angel, or the devil himself.
Henry came off the monitor still grinning, and clapped once. "That’s the one. That’s exactly the one." He turned to take in the room. "Good work, everybody. And whoever’s looking after Billy, buy the man a drink from me. He went down like I’d actually put a round in him." A short laugh. "Hell of a take."
The set started to loosen up, everyone shaking the scene off them, the pirate crew most of all. That was when it registered that Billy still hadn’t moved. He was down on the floor, right where he’d dropped.
Ronan was already crossing to him. He didn’t have to wonder what was wrong. He knew. The [Full-Immersion Effect] had reached past the scene and taken hold of Billy, and the man had fainted for real.
Before he made it halfway, Jane stepped into his path.
"You held your own out there." She said it straight, no fuss about it. "I came at you as hard as I know how the whole scene, and you didn’t give an inch. Most people fold when I do that."
"Yeah." Ronan’s eyes had already drifted to Billy. "You too. Rose felt like a real person out there. I was mostly just keeping up with her."
"Mm." She caught the way his attention had slipped, and it cooled her a little. "Don’t go getting comfortable, though. You can act, I’ll give you that much. But make no mistake, when all this is over, I’m the one they’ll remember. Not you."
She followed his eyes over her shoulder. Billy was on the floor still, a ring of the other players standing over him. She turned back to Ronan. "They’ve got him. You don’t need to go running over there. There’s a whole crew for this kind of thing. It’s not on you to—"
He was already gone, cutting past her toward the knot around Billy.
It stopped her cold. ’Unbelievable. A nobody like him, walking off on me like I’m not even worth finishing a sentence for.’
For a moment she just stood there. Then, because she couldn’t leave it alone, she went after him.
She waved the others aside, and there was Ronan, crouched over Billy, who still hadn’t moved. ’What’s actually wrong with him? He got shot, he went down, that’s the scene. But it’s over now and he still hasn’t gotten up. Did something really go wrong?’
Woody came over and lowered himself down beside Ronan, taking his time about it, the way he did most things. He pried one of Billy’s eyelids up and looked.
"He’s out cold, this one." He let the eyelid go. "But he’s breathing fine, color’s still in his face. He fainted, that’s all it is. I’ve seen it plenty. Nerves, heat, a guy holds his breath through a take and just drops. He’ll come around on his own."
The relief went around the circle.
Ronan felt it too, more than any of them. Billy was down there because of him. If the [Full-Immersion Effect] hadn’t targeted him, none of this would have happened.
Henry’s voice carried over from across the set. "What’s the holdup over here?" He came through the crowd, William a step behind him. "We wrapped a couple minutes ago. Why’s everybody still standing around?"
Then he saw. Both he and William frowned down at Billy, out cold on the floor.
"What happened to him?" The grin was gone now. "He’s not hurt, is he? Tell me nobody got hurt on my set."
Woody straightened up. "Best I can tell, he really did faint. He dropped the moment he got shot in the scene, went down like the round was live, and he’s been out ever since."
That stopped Henry, and William with him.
Then it landed, and Henry let out a breath. "Huh. No wonder that take looked so real. He wasn’t playing it. He actually went under."
William worked it back a moment. "Might’ve been building a while. Remember earlier, when he went off the script, backing away and playing scared like something was really coming for him? Could be it started right about then."
"Yeah." Henry gave a dry, crooked laugh. "Rough on him. Did wonders for the scene, though. Never seen a death land better." The laugh faded out of him. "But I’m not having anyone get hurt on this production. A guy dropping cold is halfway to a problem. He going to be okay?"
Woody didn’t seem worried. "He’ll be fine, just fainted. Get a medic over to look him over properly, though, all the same."
William was already moving on it. "I’ll pull the second and third ADs over, get some hands—"
He didn’t get to finish. Down on the floor, Billy’s eyes came open.
He sucked in a breath, then another, ragged, and his chest heaved. He took in the ring of faces over him, the cold sweat on his skin, and his breathing only got worse.
Ronan saw it. "Guys, let’s give him some space."
They eased back, and the crowd around him opened up. It was enough to bring his breathing down.
Henry crouched a little closer, his voice easy. "You okay, buddy? You feeling alright?"
It threw Billy, the director asking after him like that. But his head was still a fog, nothing sitting straight in it, least of all the scene. The part where he’d been shot.
Then it came back, and his eyes went wide. He found Ronan near the front of the crowd and his hand came up, finger trembling as he pointed. "H-he. He shot me. He shot me dead—"
Henry had a hand on his shoulder before he got any further. "Whoa, whoa. Easy, buddy. We’re listening. Slow it down and tell me what happened."
It rushed out of him. "I got shot. Right in the chest. I felt the bullet go through me, I felt all of it—" The shaking wouldn’t stop, fear all over him. His finger found Ronan again. "He shot me. With a real gun—"
"Easy, Billy." Henry cut in, gentle but firm. "You’re saying you got shot. But look at yourself. You’re fine."
"Your chest’s fine," Woody said. "Not a mark on you. Nobody shot you."
That got through. Billy looked down at himself, at the clean front of his shirt, and his eyes went wide again. "That’s impossible. I had blood on my hands. I remember it, from the wound—"
William couldn’t help himself. "You’re just worn out, man. Nobody shot you. That gun of Ronan’s is a prop. It couldn’t fire a bullet if you begged it to."
Billy wasn’t buying it. "But I came in rested. I feel fine. How am I worn out?"
Off to the side, Ronan watched him, and the rest of them, and couldn’t keep the guilt off himself.
Because Billy wasn’t lying about any of it. Every bit of what he’d felt was real to him, exactly as he said. And the thing to blame wasn’t a gun or exhaustion. It was the [Immersion System].
He gave his head a slight shake. ’Who knew this thing could reach past me and pull someone else into the immersion too?’
It was Woody who said it out loud. "Alright. You’re not tired, nothing’s wrong with you. So there’s one thing left. You got so wrapped up in the kid’s acting that you believed it, all of it. Believed he had a real gun on you, believed he pulled the trigger. And when a man believes a thing that hard, his own head fills in the rest. The bang, the hit, the blood. Nobody shot you, Billy. You just believed Ronan did, enough to feel every bit of it."
That struck the whole circle quiet. Billy, and everyone around him. Jane too.
An actor good enough to pull a co-star into the scene with him, until they took what was in front of them for the real thing? It sounded impossible.
But it happened in Hollywood, once in a while. Every so often an actor committed so hard that their scene partner stopped acting and reacted for real. Rare, but it had been seen before. Acting that could pull the people beside you into the world you were building.
Billy sat with it, then slowly came around. "...That’s got to be it. That’s the only thing that makes sense." A shaky sound came out of him, not quite a laugh. "I hallucinated the whole thing. Because he’s that good."
Ronan stepped over and dipped his head. "Man. I’m sorry about all this."
Billy pulled back, surprised, then put his hands up. "No, no, don’t. I’m the one who should be sorry, pointing at you, calling you out in front of everybody. That’s on me."
Then, warming up: "You’re just that good. Good enough to make me see things that weren’t there. That’s incredible, man. I mean it."
The guilt only sat heavier on Ronan, and past that he had no idea what to say. Praised, by the one person his system had actually gotten to.
"Never had that happen to me before. Not once." Billy let out a breath, steadier now. "Never thought I’d find out what it’s like." He managed a small laugh.
The rest of them were left holding a strange thing: that there was an actor who could get so far into a scene he pulled the people around him in with him.
Jane stood a little apart, arms crossed, sorting through what she felt. Envy, some. Disbelief, plenty. But more than either, the jolt of seeing someone that good up close, the kind that makes you want to be better yourself.
It didn’t wound her pride so much as sharpen it.
She looked at Ronan. ’Is his acting really a level above mine..?’ She didn’t have an answer. ’Whatever it takes, I’m not letting him overtake me. I’ll keep that spotlight fixed on me.’
If anything, being set across from talent like that only made her competitive streak burn hotter.