….
A film was made two times.
"Once on set." Regal had said. "And once again in the editing room, don't forget that."
That was something Regal had told Andrew early on, back when the chaos of shooting still left him breathless.
Andrew hadn't, not for a second, and now, standing in the quiet glow of an editing bay, he understood what the director meant.
The first version of the movie belonged to the cameras and the cast - every take, risk and drop of sweat.
The second version… This belonged to -
Zach Galifianakis..
Regal's editor, who just happened to be Andrew's uncle.
Yeah, despite being an uncle the difference isn't too large, just about ten years.
Anyway, for Andrew, Zach had always been a quiet force in the family, someone he admired but never fully understood until now.
Regal trusted him with the final edit of the film, and watching Zach cut scenes with veteran skills really made him believe Regals's words.
The whole process is in itself a cinema.
And maybe, because Zach won the Golden Globes for best editor for [Hangover] - he seemed extra pumped these days.
However, the most surprised was Zach himself. Simply from the rough cuts, he could tell -
Andrew had poured himself dry for this role.
And he certainly did. No one would debate in that regard.
Every note Ross had drilled into Andrew, every instinct he should have sharpened, every lesson he had learned on set - he had burned it all up on camera, and now, after the wrap, after the final applause of the crew, he felt strangely empty.
Restless.
There were promotions coming, sure.
Three days from now the circus would begin, red carpets and microphones and endless rehearsed smiles.
But in the meantime, he was free… Too free.
Regal was already buried in his next set of fires to put out, leaving Andrew adrift with nothing but the echo of what they had made.
So, half on impulse, half on yearning, he dropped by Zach's office.
Not as the scrappy teenager who used to hover awkwardly in the corner of his uncle's workspace, but as the lead of a million-dollar film.
Of course, that didn't mean much to Zach.
Fame didn't impress him.
A splicer and a reel held more weight in his world than magazine covers.
But the teasing was still there - the sideways grin, the casual jab about Andrew finally being too big for his shoes.
Family.
And for Andrew, that was enough.
….
Andrew lingered outside the small brick studio for a moment before pushing the door open.
It smelled the same as always, coffee gone cold on the counter, faint traces of reel tape even though most of it was digital now, and the hum of machines left running longer than they should.
Zach didn't look up right away.
His eyes were fixed on the monitor, hand darting across the keyboard with a rhythm that felt like second nature.
The glow of the screen painted half his face in pale light, the other half swallowed by shadow.
Andrew leaned against the doorway. "You are still married to that desk, huh?"
Zach's fingers didn't pause, but the smirk came anyway. "Some of us have to work for a living… unlike movie stars who just get paid to kiss and cry."
Andrew laughed under his breath and stepped in. "Good to see you too, Uncle Zach."
Zach finally turned, studying him with the kind of stare that cut through all the noise, the glamour, the interviews. "Last time you walked in here, you had spots on your face and braces, now you are Spider-Man."
Andrew shrugged, trying to play it off, but the words caught him a little. "Yeah, weird world."
"Not weird, just fast." Zach pushed his chair back, motioning for Andrew to sit. "So, you come here to brag, or are you actually lost?"
Andrew dropped into the second chair, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly? A little bit lost, the film's done, while Regal is in ten different places at once. Promotions won't start till next week and I don't know what I am supposed to do with myself."
Zach chuckled. "Classic post-shoot blues, everyone thinks the work ends when the camera stops, truth is, for people like me, that's when it really starts. Regal knows it too." He tapped the screen.
Andrew looked at the monitor.
Frames of himself in costume flickered by, him swinging, him crouched on a rooftop, him pulling off the mask. It was surreal, watching the edited version of himself already becoming something larger than the guy who just lived it a few months ago.
"Doesn't even feel like me." Andrew admitted quietly.
"Good." Zach said. "Means you did your job, and means I am doing mine."
There was a pause, just the soft vibe of the computer filling the room.
"You know." Zach added, voice lower now. "Regal wasn't wrong to trust you… but don't let this whole thing swallow you, fame doesn't last. The work does and that's what we are building here."
Andrew let that sink in.
Coming here was the right choice, it wasn't about answers, not really - it was about grounding.
He wasn't just a kid fumbling into something anymore, he was a part of something bigger, stitched together by Regal's vision, by Zach's hands on the edit, by every crew member who wouldn't ever stand in front of a camera.
For the first time in weeks, Andrew felt still.
After a while he said. "That was… a lot of work, it seems."
Zach let out a sudden laugh, a rough, genuine sound that shook his shoulders. Andrew waited it out, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched his uncle's amusement fade.
"Actually." Zach began once he caught his breath. "You will see it yourself the moment you step onto another set, one that doesn't belong to Regal."
Andrew frowned slightly, not quite understanding.
Zach leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. "Working with Regal is easy, almost too easy. I don't know much about actors' struggles, but Keanu used to gripe all the time, so I imagine it's the same for the rest of you."
He gave a knowing smirk before continuing. "But for me, as an editor, it's night and day compared to other directors, Regal only shoots what he intends to keep, that's rare. With most directors, you are drowning in footage, half of it pointless. With Regal? The editing is almost pure refinement, just trimming seconds, holding others a little longer for impact. The fights we have - because yes, we do fight, are usually about those seconds."
Andrew blinked, surprised. "You guys actually fight?"
Zach tapped the desk, chuckling under his breath. "This table here? Nearly got flipped during Harry Potter, first part."
He shot Andrew a glance, half-joking, half-dead serious.
"Thing with Regal." He went on, voice dropping with a shade of animosity. "Is that trying to persuade him is like trying to argue with a mountain. Rational most of the time, yes, he will listen if you give him reason, but when he digs in emotionally… It's a storm. Out of hand doesn't even begin to cover it."
Andrew, however, wasn't picturing storm clouds or raging tempests.
In his mind's eye, he could only see his uncle and Regal locked in some ridiculous hair-pulling, collar-grabbing scuffle over a two-second cut. The image almost made him laugh, but he held it in.
"I don't know if I will feel the difference in the way you are talking about." Andrew admitted after a moment, his voice dipping softer, more thoughtful. "But during the shoot… there was something. Actually, it happened more than once, twice, or maybe three, four times?"
He scratched the back of his head, uncertain if he was remembering correctly.
He was thinking back to that first day, before he had even stepped fully onto the set, right before the test shoot. That strange, electric vision of himself in the suit, inhabiting the role completely, as though it was already written.
And it hadn't stopped there, the sensation returned a few times while filming, subtle but unmistakable.
It was like slipping into a trance, a current pulling him forward, sharpening everything, each time, the scene came alive in a way that surprised even him.
His movements, his timing, his emotions, all clicked together with uncanny precision. Instead of questioning it, he simply trusted it, let it guide him.
"I told Ross about it." Andrew went on, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But he cut me off before I could explain, started grumbling under his breath, saying things like, 'that's why I hate geniuses.'"
Andrew shook his head, still amused and confused at the memory. "I didn't understand what he meant then… I still don't, really."
His eyes softened, as though admitting something more private. "But Regal told me not to worry, so… I didn't. I just trusted him and kept going."
And Regal had said that, true enough.
Though in the beginning, even he couldn't hide his concern, the last thing he wanted was Andrew's mental state being thrown off in the middle of a performance this demanding.
But those doubts dissolved when the shooting wrapped and something unexpected happened.
….
[Regal's Residence]
….
A quiet chime from the system.
A new notification.
===
[Actor Awakening Complete]
Andrew Garfield has acquired a Unique Skill: [Echo of Persona]
-> The user's [Director] at the world-class level has influenced his actor, awakening a new Unique Skill.
The words lit up before Regal's eyes like a revelation. Andrew had changed. Something in him had unlocked.
[Resonant Persona] – the ability to align so fully with a character's core that his emotions, cadence, and subtle expressions bleed into reality, making the audience question where Andrew ends and the role begins.
===
The system's note was brief but clear: these awakenings were one-time gifts, the conditions were unknown, different for each actor, never to be repeated in the same way.
Regal exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. "So that's what those trances were…"
He muttered under his breath, recalling Andrew's odd moments on set - the sudden stillness, the strange glint in his eyes, and then the way he delivered a line as if he wasn't acting at all but living.
Regal rubbed at his temple. "Great, another uncontrollable wildcard."
Still, even as he sighed, part of him felt a rush of satisfaction.
Andrew had become the first actor besides himself to hold not one, but two unique skills.
Even Stephen Sr. the old warhorse of Hollywood, a man whose instincts had been honed over decades, only ever managed one.
It was an achievement, unprecedented, and a sign of what Andrew could become if guided right.
But with that triumph came unease.
Skills weren't gifts without cost.
They twisted actors into vessels of something greater, something they themselves might not even understand.
Regal closed the notification with a flick of thought, the blue glow vanishing like a wisp of smoke, he sat there in silence for a moment, weighing the revelation.
Happy? Maybe.
Proud? Definitely.
But beneath it all, a nagging thought gnawed at him:
What if the system isn't just rewarding Andrew… but warning me?
…
===
[Name:] Andrew Garfield
[Traits:] Empathic Mirror, Adaptable Physique
[Acting Grade:] A -
[Unique Skill:] Threadwalker, Resonant Persona
===
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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