The wire team had worked with everyone.
Veterans.
Action stars.
Fearless newcomers.
People who said they weren't afraid of heights and then immediately proved otherwise.
They had protocols.
Margins.
Red lines written in bold.
And then there was Aria Lane.
The First Test
The rig was set at mid-height.
Not dramatic.
Not dangerous.
Just enough to simulate momentum.
The wire coordinator, Ben, adjusted the harness with practiced hands.
"Okay, Aria. On the pull, you'll move from point A to point B.
No resistance. Let the wire do the work."
Aria nodded.
"Yes."
Ben hesitated.
"…And please don't kick off anything."
Aria blinked.
"I will not kick."
Daniel whispered from behind the monitors:
"That sentence means nothing."
Action
The signal went up.
The pull engaged.
Aria moved—
And arrived.
Instantly.
Too instantly.
The wire snapped taut with a sharp whine as the rig overshot its own calibration.
Ben swore.
"Cut—CUT!"
The pull operator yanked the brake.
Everyone stared.
Aria hung calmly in the air, hands relaxed, posture perfect.
"…Was that correct?" she asked.
Silence.
Then Ben rubbed his face.
"No."
The Numbers Don't Lie
Ben pulled up the readout.
Speed.
Acceleration.
Reaction time.
He stared.
Then stared harder.
Then zoomed in.
"…That's not possible."
Another wire tech leaned over.
"Did the system glitch?"
Ben shook his head slowly.
"No. The system's fine."
He looked up at Aria.
"She moved before the pull completed."
Julian raised an eyebrow.
"Is that bad?"
Ben laughed once. Short. Unhinged.
"It means she's faster than the wire."
Daniel made a strangled sound.
Mason, from his chair, whispered:
"…What does that mean."
Ben answered without looking away from the screen.
"It means she's compensating for force before it happens."
Mason stood up.
"Nope.
No.
We are NOT using those words today."
Second Test (Slower, Safer, Hopeless)
Ben cleared his throat.
"Okay. Reset. We'll dial it way down."
He turned to Aria.
"Just… relax. Let it pull you."
Aria nodded earnestly.
"I will be normal."
Daniel covered his face.
"She said the thing."
Action
The pull engaged at half speed.
Aria moved—
And still beat it.
She adjusted mid-motion, shifted her center of gravity, and stabilized herself before the wire finished doing its job.
The rig shuddered.
Ben slapped the console.
"CUT!"
Silence fell again.
Aria looked genuinely apologetic.
"…Was I too fast?"
Ben laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then looked at Mason and said the sentence no director ever wants to hear:
"She's too fast for safety parameters."
Mason's eye twitched.
"What do you mean too fast?"
Ben pointed at the screen.
"Our system assumes human reaction time.
She's reacting ahead of that."
Julian leaned in.
"So…?"
"So if something goes wrong," Ben said carefully,
"she'll try to fix it herself."
Daniel whispered:
"That's the problem AND the solution."
The Wire Team Huddles
Ben pulled his team aside.
They spoke in low voices.
Serious voices.
Professional voices.
The kind used when people realize the rulebook doesn't apply.
"Her reflex curve is wrong."
"She anticipates load shifts."
"She's stabilizing instinctively."
"She's not trusting the rig."
Ben nodded grimly.
"Because she doesn't need to."
The Verdict
Ben walked back to Mason.
"We can work with her."
Mason exhaled.
"Thank god."
"But," Ben continued,
"she needs to stop helping."
Mason laughed hysterically.
"GOOD LUCK WITH THAT."
Aria stepped closer.
"I can try."
Ben looked at her, respectful now.
"That's the thing, Miss Lane."
He paused.
"You don't try.
You just… do."
Aria blinked.
"…Is that bad?"
The wire team answered in unison:
"Yes."
Closing Beat
As they reset the rig, one of the junior techs whispered:
"She's not reckless."
Another replied quietly:
"She's trained."
Ben didn't look up.
"She's dangerous."
Then, after a beat, he added:
"Not to herself."
Mason closed his eyes.
"I am directing a disaster waiting to happen."
Julian smiled faintly, watching Aria float calmly in the harness.
"No," he said.
"You're directing someone who won't fall."