Rise To Stardom - Chapter 117

Chapter 117: The Impossible Man
Typically, when movies or series were being shot, passersby and pedestrians, tended to not really pay attention.

It wasn’t because they weren’t interested or curious about what was being filmed (although some, just didn’t give a hoot and simply went about their day).

Rather, it was mostly because they had their own things to deal with and for the most part, couldn’t really spare the extra time or effort to satisfy that curiosity.

However, with the scene before them, one which was being shot on the streets of a neighborhood in Chinatown, NYC, which had been booked down for this exact time, they couldn’t help but watch, a few words audible enough to be caught by the many actors, present on the street.

“Woah…” a young boy in his tweens mouthed quietly as he and his father gazed at the scene.

“Is this a scene from a new sci-fi movie?” a male pedestrian, curiously questioned as he strolled by.

“Girls! Is that Kyle Kestis I spot?! Quick! Take a picture!!” a young, teenage lady, excitedly squealed as she and her girlfriends, pulled out their phones to click pictures.

“The budget must be something else babe. Check out those camera mounts!” a young man said to his wife who nodded her head in agreement.

“Ha! I can already imagine it bombing at the box office because it has great cinematics but no real story.” one particularly obnoxious teenage guy, audibly said to his twin brother.

“Shut up and take a damn picture for some street cred bro!” his twin countered in annoyance, slapping his brother on the back of his neck!

Yet, despite all the other noises and ramblings going on the background, the moment Tiana’s voice cascaded through the entirety of the street with her megaphone, one she was still a bit annoyed that she had to use to get her orders across this time, the entirety of the street went silent;

“Start.”

Still, it didn’t exactly answer the question in everyone’s minds asides the cast and everyone on crew who already knew…

Why, was every actor on said street, pretending to be living statues?

{The Curator – Tenth Season | 5th April 2020 | Act 1 | Scene 6 | Take 1}

Walking past all the statically frozen, mist exuding humans on the street, his expression more relaxed than one would expect considering the crazy event around him, The Curator, gently twirled the spoon between his fingers, its previously plastic feel, slowly transforming into a silvery sheen, one reminiscent of his Metamorphic shell.

“Hmmm… should do the trick, just in case…” he muttered as he continued altering the spoon’s atomic structure.

Just as he continued doing this by siphoning remnants of the Metamorphic energy present in his body, into the spoon, the being, soon caught a certain outfit from the corner of his eye, through the transparent pane glass of a pawn shop.

It was a full attire, one reminiscent of the Belle Epoque Era.

However, the standout of it all, was a dark-blue, exotic-looking long coat with multiple, fine, patterned embroideries on it.

Stopping, staring at the sky with a light squint, something akin to a dark dots noticeable in the distance, The Curator muttered out loud;

“They’ll be here in about … a minute maybe? … two minutes and thirty seconds estimatedly… That’s enough time.”

No sooner had he said that, the alien, made his way into the shop with a glint of excitement in his eyes, clothes being removed as he changed attires.

In about a minute and a few seconds, he was already out, his messy hair, vigorously fluttering in the wind as the mechanical hum of a few space ships settled above the skies.

“I have to commend the Kalis. Luring me to the spaceship with that nasty frequency and waves of temporal energy you’re using right now, really was a great move. Sucks that it was only a decoy though.” The Curator audibly spoke to the space ships, some of which were still whizzing about the skies.

In response, a certain ray of light, red beams, descended upon The Curator, scanning him from head to toe.

A moment after, a loud voice, emanated from one of the spaceships, its tone otherworldly and emotionless;

“Negative. The temporal frequency wave doesn’t affect you. You, are not a complete specie of this world?”

“Yeah. Heard that many times but, more importantly, aren’t your species supposed to be peaceful?” The Curator countered with a question of his own, his eyebrows arching in curiosity.

“We are at war with the Kalis and we require energy. The blue star, amongst the planets we have come across, has the easiest energy to harvest, enough to ensure that we come out victorious.” the alien voice responded, a hint of finality to its tone.

“Cowards.” The Curator rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The Kalis, were always, looking for ways to indirectly attack him since they were just as wary of directly confronting him as any other alien race who knew about him.

In their words, they were taking the opportunity to study every blessed thing they could about him before they could finally, achieve victory against him head on.

However, at the moment, The Curator was less concerned about their shenanigans as he spoke in response to the aliens in their space ships who knew nothing of him, his voice casual;

“Alright. I will permit you to do so.”

“We do not seek your permission, anomaly.” the unearthly voice responded authoritatively.

“Sure. Sure. Though, before you start gallivanting through earth, vaporizing innocent humans and stripping them of everything they hold dear, do me a favor and pull up, the Fatality Index.”

“You have one, just like every other sentient being in the universe.” the otherworldly voice replied, scanning the alien once again as a holographic projection of the number zero, appeared above his head.

“Under cause of extinction.” The Curator stated again, his expression flippant as ever.

No sooner had he stated that, the counter on his head, began to count, a ticking sound, filling up every corner of the street.

First it started slowly;

1… 2… 3…

Then it rapidly began to pick up like a roulette;

4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 12, 16…

Instantly, some of the spaceships in the sky, halted their whizzing about for a split moment and then, without a single second wasted, whizzed right out of the troposphere, into the exosphere and right off the surface of the earth’s vicinity in space.

Simply put, the spaceships bolted, out of fear!

Fear of their lives, being added to the counter that was still ticking!

Within a minute, the number which was still rapidly counting, stacked up exponentially, stopping at a disastrous 94.

Sure enough, seeing just those numbers alone shouldn’t really faze anyone.

But, at the moment, the remaining space ships whom were yet to bolt out, were beyond terrified of the singular being standing before them.

The Fatality Index, under cause of extinction, was a literal, intergalactic library, storing every information on the number of alien races which a single being or entity had wiped out.

Simply put, it was a library, dedicated to keeping information about some of the most formidable beings in the universe.

That basically meant, that The Curator, had wiped out over a hundred billion races in his long, long lifespan of existence, all of whom were of the destructive kind.

As a result, the main giant space ship, present amidst its others whom were yet to bail out, remained silent, an ominous air settling between them.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” The Curator, gestured to the rest of the space ships, present in the air with wide arms, a questioning expression gracing his visage.

“Run.” he menacingly stated after a brief pause, his flippant expression, discarded in a moment and replaced by a, chilly, icy-cold expression.

As if they had been waiting for that, the other spaceships bolted, save for the giant one who seemed adamant on being a stubborn goat;

“At the moment, you have no weapons. No defenses. It’s impossible for you to win.”

“Try me.”

Blasting out of its main turret, a pressurized beam of energy, instantly shot out in destructive fashion, surgically laser-focused on evaporating The Curator!

Yet, as if already expecting that the ‘Bystander Effect’ wouldn’t work on every blessed alien in their annoying little space ships, The Curator, deflected the beam with the spoon he had coated with his Metamorphic energy, returning the destructive beam of energy, right back to it.

Chaos followed, resulting in said space ship, whirling around uncontrollably in the skies before it then escaped, billowing fumes of smoke, left in its trail as it twinkled in the far distance.

At the exact same time, another wave of energy pulsed through the world from the space ship as it exited earth’s orbit.

“I can never catch a break, can I?” The Curator sighed with a tired expression, turning to watch as every human within vicinity, slowly began to unfreeze, the mist flowing out of them, halting and reversing.

Yet, turning his gaze towards the restaurant he had previously walked out off, The Curator soon felt a certain hotness around his neck.

Grabbing the silvery chain that was forming around his neck with a silvery hue, seeing the certain, bizarre-looking, hourglass-shaped key that was attached to said chain, The Curator’s expression, changed into one of genuine glee!

Bolting towards the nearest door, one which was also that of the pawn shop, the alien, inserted the key in and instantly, opened the door.

Gazing inside what seemed to be and should’ve been the pawn shop, The Curator, smiled as he stated;

“Oh you sexy, brilliant dame! You’ve redecorated!”

No sooner had he said that though, he walked right through the door and left it open for a few seconds.

Running right back out a few seconds after, now with two, peculiar looking black gloves on his hands, the mad man, ran into the restaurant just across the street.

Seeing the rubble on the ground and a hole in the roof, The Curator swiftly pulled up a holographic screen with his Construct Gloves.

Clicking a few buttons here and there, checking to ensure that none of the humans were fully unfrozen, The Curator soon began to restructure the destroyed roof.

Having reconstructed it, returning it, back to its pristine, proper state, the alien nodded to himself.

However, just before he left, he returned Mason’s phone, which was previously on the chair, back into his pockets and also, returned the spoon he had stolen, which had now turned plastic again, back onto the tray.

Running right back out of the restaurant, glancing at the naked mannequin through the window pane of the pawn shop, the weirdo, vigorously shook his head in denial, a strong hint of defiance in his tone as he muttered out loud;

“Never!”

Having said that, The Curator, walked through the opened doors of the pawn shop and finally, closed it behind him.

The pawn shop, save for the stolen attire, was left, completely untouched.

Yet, just a few seconds after, Kiera came running out the doors of the restaurant, looking around with a confused expression.

Staring at everyone on the street, all of whom were just as confused as she was, the lady mumbled out loud, a deeper expression of perplexity on her features;

“The impossible man…”

Massaging her temples with a deep frown, unsure of what to make of what she had just said, Kiera soon stated a few seconds after;

“Why, do I know that…?”

“Cut. Print. Check The Gate.”

– – –