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Even with his face buried in the leather seat of the convertible, Henry could hear the director shouting in frustration.
He pulled himself up from his sprawled position and hopped out of the car, expecting a critique.
Sure enough, the director marched over, flailing his arms. "No! Not like that! You didn't leap you just dived! I need a full flip in the air, like you barely made it, like the explosion blew you into the other car!"
He glanced around, catching the yep, called it expressions on the crew's faces. No wonder the previous stuntman bailed. This wasn't just dangerous it was borderline suicidal.
They wanted him to jump from a speeding car during a fiery explosion and do a flip?
If he weren't a Kryptonian, Henry would've murdered this director in his mind ten times already.
But he wasn't about to pass up the chance he fought to get.
So, swallowing the urge to punch someone, he mustered a pitiful, "Sure, I'll try again," expression and climbed back onto the car window.
Under the director's over-the-top encouragement, Henry performed the forward flip into the convertible's backseat flawlessly.
"YES! YES! That's it! THAT'S THE ONE!" the director whooped like a man possessed.
Channing, head of the stunt team, quickly stepped in to douse the fire of enthusiasm. "Hold up. Let's do a moving test first at speed, with the safety wire in place. Director, you'll wanna get in the chase vehicle to monitor the framing."
"Oh… right," the director coughed, momentarily regaining his senses. "Yeah. Good idea."
For the moving test, the director climbed into the chase truck's bed where a camera rig had been mounted to film the jump. Henry got fitted with the steel safety line, and the rigging crew tested it by tugging to simulate an emergency pull.
The brown sedan the "villain's car" would be driven by Channing himself, while the red convertible would be steered by the female lead's stunt double.
No one trusted the actual actress with that level of precision driving.
In fact, the woman behind the wheel now was a pro a member of Channing's team who specialized in high-performance stunts. She could drift, spin, and parallel park at 80 mph in high heels if asked.
Compared to some studios that dressed up short male stuntmen in wigs to sub for female leads, Channing's crew at least tried to do things right.
As for Henry he nailed the test jump. A smooth forward flip from the moving car, landing squarely in the red convertible's back seat.
Everything looked perfect… except for one thing.
Because it was slack at the beginning, it flailed unpredictably in the air. Henry had to hesitate for a moment before jumping just long enough to dodge the swinging cable and avoid getting tangled midair.
Channing caught that hesitation.
And while the director practically danced with joy, Channing pulled Henry aside, a hint of concern in his eyes.
"You hesitated," Channing said in a low voice. "You good?"
"I'm good," Henry replied with an easy smile.
Channing nodded, but kept his voice serious. "Listen, if you're not confident, screw the flip. Just get in the car. Director only gets one shot. Whatever ends up on film that's what he's stuck with."
Then he added, "And I wouldn't mind working with you again, kid. Just don't do anything stupid out there."
"Don't worry, boss," Henry said, playing the part. "I got this."
Of course, in his mind, Henry had already decided: this would not be a long-term partnership.
He appreciated Channing's concern, sure. But he wasn't about to stick with a third-rate team using barely-legal stunt rigs and praying nothing exploded at the wrong time. If he hadn't been superhuman, he'd never even have considered this.
Still, it was nice that Channing looked out for him.
Finally, the team gave the go-ahead.
Henry perched on the window frame of the unmanned brown sedan, rigged to accelerate remotely.
The crew cleared out.
The red convertible revved beside it, and the chase truck rolled into position.
The most expensive shot in this entire B-movie kicked off.
The brown car surged forward under automated throttle. The convertible, driven by the stuntwoman, kept perfect pace beside it.
Wind blasted Henry's face. He braced himself gripping the roof with both hands, his feet balanced on the window frame, facing outward.
The first marked tree flashed past.
At the exact moment his feet left the car, they passed the second mark.
The explosion was immediate.
With a BOOM, the back of the brown sedan launched skyward. Gasoline-fed fire whooshed into the sky, smoke and heat trailing the car as it flipped from the rear.
The timing was perfect.
From the director's vantage, it looked like the explosion hurled Henry clear just as scripted.
In truth, it hadn't altered his jump at all. But in the magic of movie-making, it looked real.
In midair, Henry tucked, twisted, and flipped forward.
The convertible caught him like a stagehand catching a flying acrobat. He landed squarely in the backseat, barely rattling the suspension.
It wasn't flawless, though. His pants leg caught fire.
Some of the flame-retardant fuel had splashed onto his clothes, and now a small flame licked at his calf.
He patted it down quickly, but by then, the scene had played out.
The red car screeched to a halt as crew members ran up some with fire extinguishers to douse the still-burning brown sedan, one to blast Henry's smoldering pants leg.
The stunt was complete.
The director was ecstatic.
His film might still be a low-budget mess, but now it had one hell of a scene in the can.
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