The Expendables

Author's note: I now have a p-word as you all know, so if you feel like reading 5 advanced chapters at the measly price of $3, then do join. The link is in this book's bio, or you can just search 'Archonstine' followed by p-word on your browser.

Also, join my discord will ya? For movie and tv-show recommendations and character images. And also it's the one place where I ask you all for suggestions. The link is in this book's bio.

Also, donate some power stones while you're at it. And maybe... write up a review?

26th November 1996 (Tuesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"Mr. Stirling? He'll meet you now." Katherine announced.

After muttering a soft thanks, I made my way in expecting him at his desk… only to find him smoking at a window to its left.

"Mr. Pacino! So great to see you again! And so hale and healthy at that." I greeted him, striking the balance between casual and over-eager.

He flicked the stub of his cig, sending some ash flying out the window before rubbing it out in a nearby ashtray. "Ah, yes. I've been really getting into it nowadays, Pilates and… tai chi. Really helps me stay up on my feet all day." He said, while making his way to his desk, "Take a seat please, and let's get right to it. Now, you requested a meeting with me… and me alone. You didn't want my agent to be here. I rejected it outright. Then Ambrose Stirling gives me a call an hour later, and here we are."

A few seconds pass by as we stare at each other before I break out into giggles without any warning.

In my defense… I had to. I mean, the face he was making… It was hilarious.

His eyes widened exasperatedly, as he spread his arms around, "Oh, now you are laughing? What, you think that's funny, huh? Do you find this situation kid? Answer me!"

My laughter subsides as I reply, "Honestly? Yes. It tickles me in all the right ways. But you know what? Before you turn this around on me, let me just tell you something… you had it coming."

"I-I had it coming. What in the… you ungrateful little bastard, I HAD IT COMING?!"

"Yeah! I mean, we talked years ago. I'm sure you must have gauged me a little! What, you thought I was too damn prideful to NOT go over your head. Well then, you were in for a rude awakening man! This whole thing, it's on you!"

"On me. On… oh hell no. Listen kid, I rejected the offer, not because I had something against you! It's because I'm busy! I've got scheduling conflicts, I'm booked to hell and back! I won't have a single free second till new fucking year ok?!" He exclaimed, exuding frustration with every word.

I sighed. "That's a load of bull and you know it." I deadpanned.

"Wh-? NO!" He screamed in anguish.

Bloody hell. Things would go so much better if he just stopped lying to my face.

"Sir, listen. If you just give me a chance to elaborate-" When I was rudely interrupted.

"Oh! So now you're calling me Sir?! Well golly! Where exactly was this 'supposed respect' when you tattled to your dad like I was a playground bully and you were pushed off the GODDAMN MERRY-GO-ROUND!?"

My god. The great Al Pacino, using deflection of all things? Well, at least it tells me I'm on the right track… but enough is enough.

"SHUT UP!" I raised my voice, my patience finally running thin. "SHUT. THE FUCK UP FOR YOUR GOD'S SAKE! And listen for once in your life Alfredo! Yeah, that's right. No Sir, no Mr. Pacino, I'm calling you Alfredo! I only use honorifics for people who have earned even an iota of my respect, which you did… but somehow managed to squander it in a matter of MINUTES! Now, you might act in films, but I make them so suffice it to say, I'm really fucking busy. I don't have a lot of time here, so sit tight, and just LISTEN… Capiche?" I end my outraged rant, as his face falls, before it becomes blank, as he takes a seat.

"What're you gonna do if I don't? Listen, that is? What, your 'daddy' will hear about it?" He spoke sarcastically, as he mocked me.

He really knows how to push my buttons.

I sighed again, "I'm… sorry. I let my emotions get the best of me and for that… I apologize. But don't think for a second you're getting out of this, at least without hearing me out."

Our eyes met, as we stared at each other for a few seconds, not blinking.

Finally…

"*Sigh*, okay kid. Go on, I'm listening. I told you my schedule is booked to hell and back. What more do you want?"

I scoffed derisively, "Oh please. I'm not gonna start filming for at least another month. I've got casting calls, need to coordinate with the costume department, I've got people trying to book locations for an on-site shoot. It's gonna take time. Point is, you're wide open starting January. No, there's something else. You 'can' take me up on my offer… you just don't want to. So please, just tell me why."

It took a little more cajoling, but no-one… and I mean, no-one could resist my CHA for long.

"It's just, you remember 'Scent of a Woman'? No, of course you do. Well, I won an Oscar for that. For Best Actor even. It was the highpoint of my life. But then… well it's been 2 years. Almost 3. I've acted in 8 movies, 6 of them flopped hard. 'Hardew Hills' turned out to be a tidy little gross, but critics lambasted it. I was nominated for a Razzy for fuck's sake. Point is… ever since the Oscar, I've hit a slump. My career is declining, and I need something… something real. Then Disney came knocking. They're rolling out this animated feature, Hercules. They asked me to audition for Zeus… I need a commercial success kiddo. I need to… establish myself again. I can't do that with an arthouse film geared towards critics. Like this, 'Good Will Hunting'. I just can't kiddo, I can't."

And with that, he concluded his super sad tale. A story, riddled with wrong decisions all due to a false sense of bias.

"Mr. Pacino-" I started, right before he waved me off.

"That's a real mouthful. Just call me Al."

"Al then. I get what you're saying, I really do. Now, would you be willing to keep an open mind?"

"Open mind?" He asked.

"Yeah. open mind. I want you to discard every single conclusion you've drawn up in that mind of yours. You're not losing your shine. And your slump… Well every actor goes through that. Hell, Werner Jacobs is going through one as we speak. Now let me acknowledge everything you said, one by one. First of all, I know all about what's happening over at Disney. No really, I do. Listen, your movies have got you a fanbase worldwide. But you gotta admit, you're far more popular in Europe than in America. Now… if you voice act, in what the Greeks will undoubtedly see as a case of slimy foreigners, distorting their history and culture to suit their commercial interests… You're only gonna harm your career here."

I paused to let that realization sink in, as his shoulders slumped.

"You think I don't know that? Kid, being a character actor has its shortcomings. It's that I've never had a signature role, something that can make people recall a character by getting a glance of my handsome mug. Now, I see that the Disn-"

"So let me give you one." I interrupted, before he spiraled again.

"... What?"

"You made an assumption Al. An assumption you shouldn't have made. 'Good Will Hunting' is not an arthouse film. Listen, you saw my movie didn't you? PA grossed over $150 mil worldwide. I'm expecting it to cross the 250 mark in a couple of weeks. You really think after that kind of a grand slam home run, I would switch to a fucking arthouse? I'm expecting GWH to make at least $100 million. And if you had given the script more than a single fucking glance, you would've realized that."

He blushed slightly, having realized I caught his little deceit. He rejected the role previously, citing he had read the script but didn't think he would fit the role. Also, he had prior engagements and was booked for the next month.

That little liar, he just didn't believe in me. He rejected it, thinking he needed a surefire success to turn the tide, and he did not trust me to provide him with one, and so barely parsed through the screenplay.

He thought I was inexperienced. He's not wrong per se… but still.

"Al, you remember what you did? You did me a favor back then. You set me on the right path, gave me pointers I sorely needed. Come on, let me repay it back. Let me do you a favor in return. Al, I wrote this role with you in mind, and no-one else. You know me, but more than anything else, you know my dad. Look at the signs man. You really think Ambrose would offer me his unconditional support? No! It's extremely conditional, and you can guess what the condition is. Come on… I'm not asking for a lot here, just… read the script again, and I mean really read it. That works?"

He nodded his head slowly, his jaw set. "Yeah… that works. I will get back to you tomorrow."

Hook, Line and Sinker.

Yep, he fell for it. You see, Al Pacino is a phenomenal character actor, and he is really big on fleshing out characters through realistic development, and providing them with a compelling past.

Both criteria are fulfilled by the script. And once he reads it, and I mean really reads it, he'll realize just what kind of opportunity he was about to pass up on.

Oh, I can't wait for that conversation. Man… I'm gonna poke so much fun at him on set.

…

…

29th November 1996 (Friday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"NEXT!" I called out, as a sense of relief filled me.

Thank god, this is the last one.

In walked, Gregory Shaw, a 21 year old boy, with shaggy black hair, and a think smatter of freckles around his nose… barely visible.

His acting resume indicated he had a supporting role in a whodunnit Anthology series a year ago. Not to mention, a recurring role in 2 seasons of Watered Willy, an Emmy nominated show.

Impressive enough I guess. "Ok Greg, can I call you Greg?" After receiving a nod I continued, "Ok Greg, I'm Ricky, nice to meet you." I shook his hand briefly before turning around.

"And this is Erina Wallace, the casting director. She'll judge your performance."

"Hello Greg!"

"Ok, we'll give you a part of a script, it's a 3-way conversation between Morgan, the role you're auditioning for, Will, that's me, and Chuckie, played by Trent. That's him." I said, pointing to a corner where Trent was leaning against a windowsill.

"Now, you've got 2 minutes to go through it, then we act it out. A really brief scene, it'll barely take a few seconds, but make sure to be thorough, understood?"

"I understand completely Ricky, thank you for this opportunity!" He went for another handshake, his eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.

Oh bloody hell. As if this wasn't already hard enough.

You know, I thought sitting on this side of the casting process would be fun. I would get to evaluate talent, and then pass judgment over them, deciding who exactly I want for my movie.

And it was easy, really fucking easy to evaluate it. As the gamer, my innate comprehension was developed enough to judge various facets of any and all aspiring actors, their chemistry with me and Trent, and how good they truly are.

I could nitpick at every little mannerism of theirs, every single emotion that passed over their faces, and exactly how nuanced of a performance they could give with little to no advanced preparation.

And so with me around, there were no callbacks required. Not when I could judge exactly who was perfect for a role out of everyone else, without a single doubt in my mind.

In fact, the casting director, Erina, was here as more of a formality than anything else… considering her skills were not really required with me present. She was mainly here to cast actors in bit roles, like a random university student, or a shopkeeper, or the Henry Lipkin from this movie, etc. She would be instrumental in hiring extras as well, considering my time is far better spent on other endeavors.

But even with all that, I quickly realized how false my notions turned out to be. It really didn't make me feel good, to dash the hopes of so many bright eyed hopefuls, some of whom I'm sure, even looked up to me in some form. Just thinking back to how some struggled to hold back their tears… I felt outright terrible.

I should not, considering the decisions I was making were all too common and a natural part of film-making but nevertheless… a part of me empathized with them to an extent.

And that's why, I was feeling an inordinate amount of pity for Gregory here. Knowing I would've to dash his hopes in a few minutes.

Assess Acting Skill:

Acting Lvl 37

Now, 37 is not bad for his age. But I encountered a level 46 not 10 minutes ago and Greg… he falls short I guess. And so did a veritable plethora of 'actors' that I auditioned in the past 2 hours.

The only way he can salvage this is if his chemistry with me and Trent is off the charts and his synchronization with my imagined version of Morgan is near uncanny… both factors high enough to make up for a 9 level difference.

The chances of which are infinitesimal in nature.

"Ricky, Ms. Wallace… I'm done." Greg voiced out eagerly.

"Wonderful! Let's get into it then! Trent, get your ass here, and Greg, stand on the spot marked 'X'. We'll do one take, okay?" I asked, infusing false cheer in my voice to not give anything away.

All right Greg… let's see what you got, eh?

Author's note: If you spot any grammatical errors, or vocab goof-ups, feel free to comment in the paragraph, and I'll correct them all ASAP.