The Nature of Predators - Venlil Movie Star (One-Shot #13)

Memory transcription subject: Mava, Venlil Movie Star

Date [standardized human time]: December 15, 2136

Manny Griffin waded through an imagined sea of bodies across the green screen, which I knew the human CGI artists would render into Gojid collateral from the stampedes that rocked the cradle. The predator sank to his knees at the marked spot, in a way that looked like his limbs had given out. His face contorted from palpable emotion, with his lower lip wobbling, his contorted face reddening, and tears pouring from binocular eyes that looked utterly broken. The Terran actor wept in unconsolable fashion; I trotted up to him, wrapping my tail snuggly around his waist as I’d been instructed to do. Mucus dripped under his nose, which I could see after he directed a bleary gaze at me.

I would’ve preferred if the script excluded that uncomfortable stare, but I suppose it wasn’t an authentic human display of grief without having twin pupils leveled at me. Manny had been respectful of my requests not to use a direct stare, only slipping up on instinct a few times; I enjoyed the art we were creating, but total suppression of my instincts proved impossible. For my part, I acted as if those forward-facing eyes didn’t rattle me, and maintained a supportive expression in spite of my fear. The predator sniffled, wiping the snot on the back of his gloved hand. The mock soldier gear the actor was wearing suddenly showed the toll of its weight.

“There are children here!” Manny blubbered, in a voice fraught with congestion. “The grays are just gonna fucking eat them, huh? And we—we’re trapped here!”

The actor’s voice climbed with desperation, and his binocular eyes widened to frenzied levels in conjunction with his words. He snapped upright in a quick motion, forcing me to bite down my instincts from the sudden movement; I had known that was coming, but it was easier to stomach in the abstract. When I pitched this project to a Venlil studio alongside Manny, I hadn’t anticipated how draining it’d be to work so closely with a Terran. The predator tugged at the back of his brown buzzcut, pacing in the opposite direction from me.

The human’s jawline hardened as he swallowed, snapping his head around. “I’m not letting that happen to you, Talek. We’re gonna find a way out. I couldn’t bear it if—I won’t fail you.”

“The…grays have taken the planet. There’s no hope, no one watching. Nobody would blame you if you gave in to your worst desires now,” I recited, allowing a quaver of uncertainty into my voice.

“That can’t be what you really think. You know me. Can’t you see that this death and destruction hurts me? I’m NOTHING like the grays!” Manny allowed himself to roar for a moment, slapping his chest with a fist and taking a step toward me. My flinch was entirely authentic; per the script, his features and his voice softened. “Look at me. I haven’t given up, and neither will you. As long as I’m drawing breath, I’ll be here beside you, and we keep moving. Together.”

“Together? I…I’m grateful for your patience. I’m sorry for doubting you; you are the person I bonded with, even in these ghastly circumstances, and I know that in my heart. If anyone can bring us to safety, it would be you.”

“That’s the spirit. Let’s get away from this place—it reeks of death.”

Manny began walking a few steps with a weary, determined look; more tears rolled down his face, as his eyes darted around at the imagined destruction in the village. I tailed after the human, rifle in paws, and drew a steadying breath.

“And cut!” the human director yelled.

Manny’s face switched in an instant, donning a curious smile. “How was that? I thought I really channeled Pietro’s emotions there. If you think we need another take, we can roll again after I stop looking like a cried-up mess, but I feel like that was the one.”

“You were brilliant. You were both brilliant; Mava had the perfect level of mistrust and latent fear.” Don’t tell either of them that some of that is authentic, deep down. “I’ll review the tapes to be sure, but I think it’ll work. Go take a break—you deserve it.”

I exhaled a lengthy breath from my mouth, allowing the stress to ebb from my body. While there were Venlil working on the set, direction of the war scenes had fallen almost exclusively under predator control; our studio’s editors would scrub the final copy to censor anything unfit for herbivore eyes, at least in the version that would release on Venlil Prime. Once I grounded myself, my gaze scanned various extras, supporting cast members, and assistants that had been watching us act out our lines. Many of the native employees looked more disgruntled than ever by how convincing Manny was at delivering his teary lines.

I’ve heard the gossip. If humans are that good at faking emotion, how can we trust that it’s all not just an act? Manny’s capable of turning it on and off like a light switch.

It was that Terran’s ability to sell any role that had almost landed him a permanent stay with the exterminators’ office, before the UN was able to liberate him from further scrutiny. As a prominent movie star like myself, Manny Griffin got attention from many human refugees he walked by on the streets, which made the guild worry that he was dangerous or otherwise a problem; his ability to play a heartless psychopath as his most famed role, in 22nd Century Prophet, increased their suspicion. That debacle was how I had discovered who he was, and got in contact about a few scenes I’d workshopped for this cradle-based idea. Manny had jumped at the chance to edit the script, we rehearsed it to sell a studio on this project, and the rest of our partnership was history.

On an objective level, I could recognize Manny’s acting talent; the fact that he was so famous suggested that it was unique among Terrans, rather than indicative of some widespread deception. However, other Venlil we worked with were having difficulty differentiating between the real and the phony. How would they know if the superstar primate was playing them, after all? The human’s acting chops made them wonder whether he was an especially dangerous trickster amid Earth’s cumulative pack. I had thought about informing Manny of the escalating concerns, before a stampede happened on set, but I didn’t want to upset him. It wasn’t clear what he could do to assuage the root of that problem, besides worsening his performances.

I spotted Manny strolling into the break room, and chased after him. “Um, can I have a word with you? In private?”

The human chuckled. “Long as we don’t get snapped by the paparazzi, for daring to be in the same room as each other.”

“I’m worried about…our tabloids running with another headline because of some loose lips. I don’t want to worry you with this, but it’s not getting better on its own and you deserve a warning.”

“I’m not sure I follow, but I’m always open to talking with any crew or cast member that feels there’s something they need to discuss—especially when that person is an actress I respect as much as you. I’ll follow you.”

It was difficult to turn my back to a predator, while inviting him to stalk after me, but I led the way back to the human side of the set. Venlil would be much less likely to frequent this half of the facility, for obvious reasons. Part of me wondered what it was like when the Terrans had their own downtime; I hadn’t been over here myself, since this was their base of operations. Most primates that I spotted were sedentary and transfixed by an electronic device of some kind. Honestly, they looked as lethargic as a Drilvar. Then again, with how Manny could switch his emotions on and off, the predators might be able to shift into pursuit mode if the situation called for it.

Either way, they’re not going out of their way to initiate disputes and stimulate their brains with violence. These humans are more than content to lounge around and stare at a screen.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll get to the point. Allowing a co-species set was controversial, and now? The Venlil crew have been spiraling into a pit of doubt, because…Manny, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m sorry. They’re—”

“Worried that I’m faking all of my emotions because I can cry on command,” the predator sighed.

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“The exterminators accused me of the same shit. If it’s any help, the fact that I can not only see that the crew is afraid of me, but understand the reason, is clear-cut empathy. I put myself in my character’s shoes because I have empathy. I can imagine what it’s like to be them, to have had their experiences. Besides, you do the same thing, Mava.”

“You’re right…on all of it. That gives me an idea.”

“Go on, then. I’m listening.”

“I think we should do an improv exercise, where you pretend to be me, and I pretend to be you. It shows that we understand…and trust each other. It might show how similar we are: at least, who we really are.”

Manny blinked in surprise. “That just might work. I’m willing to give it a shot.”

“Good. I’ll call a gathering of the crew, and we’ll meet back on set in ten minutes.”

“That works a-okay for me. Oh, and Mava? Thanks for coming to me with this issue. We make a good team…and like our characters, we won’t let any hurdles get in our way.”

I flicked my ears in acknowledgment, before scampering off to bring the crew together on set. If Manny Griffin was as compassionate as my logical brain assessed him to be, this exercise would allow him to showcase that through his passion. I hoped I could do my impromptu impression of him justice; I wasn’t sure I truly understood a human. The last thing I wanted was to misconstrue his drives or lean into caricatures. My brain was racing, as I tried to build a full profile of what made the predator tick.

---

The Venlil staff assembled around us, apprehensive looks on their features. Manny must’ve rounded up the humans, who seemed confused by this unscheduled event; most predators lingered at the back of the audience, and it was clear they were at a loss over what was happening. I stood by patiently as the Terran actor explained that he would be doing an off-the-cuff impression of me, and vice versa. He offered a polite-sounding “ladies first” proclamation, before gesturing with an open palm for me to take the set. I stifled a gasp of surprise, and wandered to the area’s heart. My nerves were higher than the first role I’d ever auditioned for, fearful of misrepresenting Manny.

I struck an easygoing posture, and straightened my ears with excitement. “My name’s Manny Griffin. If you know me, it’s probably from something you’ve seen on a screen. The truth is, I love acting. Transforming myself into new roles has always been the way I understand people. You come out of something like this knowing more about the world and life; feeling as though you’ve had experiences you’ll never have. I’m the luckiest fan of stagecraft alive, to be able to live my escapist dream. I want the people I work with to feel just as inspired and joyful to get up every morning and build that dream with me. Thank you.”

The human actor flashed his teeth as I finished my excerpt, mashing his paws together; the other Terrans followed suit, while us Venlil were taken aback by the slapping sounds given as a response. Manny was snarling the way Earthlings did to signal happiness, so I guessed he was pleased with my rendition of his self-description. If there was a single thing that anyone knew about him from the moment they met him, it was that he loved acting. He was born for it, just as I felt I was. It wasn’t difficult for me to place myself into his mindset when my own was a seed’s flight away.

Manny strutted up to the midst of the crowd, as I ducked out of the spotlight. “I’m Mava. Bringing stories to the screen is a universal delight. Some people say that I have star power—might I add, I totally do—but I have something else. The audience has to be as transported into my works as I am on the set, so I’m driven to achieve perfection. I like testing my limits. The challenge of working with a predator actor was too much to pass up, and over time, we’ve come to respect each other. Our professional accomplishments make us stand out, and though it’s among vastly different cultures, we share a vision for a story of love usurping loss, and a message of hope carrying us through the hopeless sea of evil out there. That’s…what I, what we, want people to absorb and open their hearts to.”

The human somehow replicated my cadence and speech patterns to perfection, even through his growling register; it felt as if he’d plucked several of those phrases from my innermost thoughts. Manny nailed everything that I hoped to gain from this project, as well as why I’d gone into the acting profession to begin with. The binocular gaze that, per my request, he’d avoided directing at me, turned toward my pupils now. There was a moment of shared solidarity between two kindred spirits, before we both recalled the meeting’s purpose of calming the other staff members. I surveyed the assembled crowd out of my periphery, gauging whether any of them understood what we were trying to impart.

A pawful of Venlil looked placated by Manny’s complex understanding of me as a person, and my charitable impression of him. Most of the Terrans looked mystified, right alongside the rest of the native cast members. Disgruntled mumbles started to spread between skeptical minds; it was obvious that I needed to provide clarity on the lesson. They had to understand that staging emotions to fit a fictional persona wasn’t a sign that our human star was deceiving them away from the cameras. I stamped a hindleg for attention, with a dramatic tail swish to emphasize my point.

“Listen. All we wanted was for you to see that we‘re in the same role, for very similar reasons,” I offered. “If it’s predatory how invested Manny gets in his roles, you have to say the same thing about me. We’re actors. We act, and we do it because we love it.”

Manny dipped his head. “That’s right. I try to capture the smallest emotional subtleties with my character, and I’m honestly flattered that I do my job well enough that it’s concerning, though the last thing I want is to frighten you. I’m not doing any of this for predatory purposes. I’m doing it to tell a story that audiences will enjoy, that will leave an indelible emotional mark. I’m doing it to create characters that make people feel. Please, tell me you see the difference.”

Head-tilts ensued from several Venlil, as they mulled over his words; judging by looks of realization and uncertainty, that point about his motivations had resonated with the onlookers. They’d seen how Manny’s talents could be directed toward empathizing with people around him, through his impersonation of me. Somehow, I thought the last bit of that impression had been a message from him, about the feelings of hope and love he wanted Escape from the Cradle to inspire. It wouldn’t be easy for our staff to join the predators on this project, not without reservations. Hearing why the human was driven to create this tale with me had to move some stubborn hearts.

After watching the predator tackle his colleagues’ doubts head-on, I was confident that this film could be that special story we both coveted upon its completion. It was a pleasure to have a co-star at my side that was in the business for the right reasons.

A/N - Another item from the poll! A famed Venlil actress collaborates with a human actor after learning about him, but once on set, the Venlil coworkers are a bit leery of how well Manny can fake and mimic emotions. Mava creates an improv exercise to reflect both of their motives for the project, and why they feel the film industry is a special medium. Do you think their fellow actors will be able to move past Manny's job being some wider predator deception? Will the first Venlil-human movie be successful?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! The most popular item from the poll, Yotul rebuilders, is next to close out the month, and it'll be two parts rather than just a one-shot.