AN: This might be the fastest I've ever completed a one-shot within two days of watching a movie, and I hope it doesn't show too much in the writing! I love the paranormal a lot, especially aliens, but it took me a second before I could watch Nope in theaters. I loved it, and Jupe wasn't kidding when he said you'd be leaving differently within an hour. I really enjoyed the pacing, build-up of suspense, themes/symbolism littered throughout, and the overall feeling of dread after learning more about Jean Jackets' abilities.
Anyways, since there's no category for the movie, yet, I'll leave this here for now. Please feel free to make comments on any grammar mistakes, scene slip-ups, or suggestions to make this one-shot stronger or flow better. I might add to this if my Nope brainrot continues, who knows!
Fic Cover Art (If requested by the artist, I'll remove it): post/692422104087429120/watched-nope-yesterday-and-had-a-blast-i-already
Fear.
A common emotion that everyone experiences in their daily life. Whether it be missing that extra step on the stairs, or receiving a break-up text on your phone, it will always make your heart jump for a second.
It's sometimes described as adrenaline filling your entire body so fast that your pulse skyrockets and the choice to fight or flee is the only thing you can focus on in the face of a perceived threat.
Most people joke that the human body could only handle so much fear that, while rare, can induce heart attack-like symptoms in susceptible individuals.
(Later, when he'd give the first interview of his life with OJ and Em about the whole ordeal, Angel would agree that it fucking felt like his heart was going to give out any second.)
Atop that hill, Angel's whole body shook as he stared at the sleek disc hanging over their now ruined outpost, where just moments ago Holst just... killed himself? Betrayed them? Whatever the reason, he had allowed himself to be taken by the thing, taking the camera with him into its depth.
Whether he thought Angel was a casualty of that choice, or he assumed it would be satisfied with him only, he would never know. He sure as hell couldn't dwell on it now as he barely processed anything but the large mass descending onto him.
He couldn't stop looking at the gaping maw that was actively trying to pull him in, to join the old cinematographer.
The force of the pull strengthens.
The air swirled violently as dirt and debris went flying everywhere, and yet he could only stare while feeling so very, very small.
He was mentally present enough to yell at himself, to give in to his basic instincts of fleeing, but the use of his body was no longer in his control. It felt like his legs were rooted to the spot and his heartbeat was the only thing he could hear ringing in his ears.
The tarp hitting him suddenly, both figuratively and literally, knocked him back to his senses as he tumbled down the hill. A few feet away from Jean Jacket, and onto the path of the fallen barbed wire fence.
(Despite faded scars forever lining his hands afterward where he had desperately tried to claw the wiring off as if he could outrun an actual alien, it ultimately saved him.)
If only that was where his close encounter ended, he'd have to say that moment on the hilltop would be the second worst experience of his life. Of course, the "ship" had to come back for an encore when it tried to take him a second time.
Except, for the briefest moment, it nearly succeeded, and he had been inside its mouth.
The sickening feeling of being surrounded by all sides, feeling the warmth and humidity of everything, and knowing there was not a damn thing you could do about it.
(Even then, at the cusp of death, he had faintly wondered if that's what the spectators at Jupiter's Claim felt before they had been swallowed alive. The thought of his screams joining their cacophony of pain and suffering is yet another thing that haunts him at night.)
However, as soon the barbed wire made contact with the interior flesh, a roaring that shook his entire being echoed out right before he was violently flung back into the valley floor.
The next twenty minutes were a blur, and to be honest, aside from his sprained wrist, concussion, and other injuries, he had cried out of relief. The barbed wire cutting into his skin was no longer a concern, it was a blessing in disguise. Everything hurt in the best way, adding further proof that he was still physically present in the valley.
In his euphoric state, he couldn't care less about the mess he was left in because he survived out of pure dumb luck. He was alive!
Yet, that left the question if his two friends(?) had survived as well.
The answer soon came in the form of an obnoxiously large balloon being released in the distance. The fading sun highlighted the owner's cartoonified smiling face in latex, floating across from the beast that mistook it as prey.
"What the fuck...?" Angel mutters unknowingly watching what would be the final confrontation with Jean Jacket. Those tense few minutes could be described as surreal - particularly when it blew up with a resounding 'pop'.
Its remains ever so slowly floating down, in addition to what else remained trapped in its body.
(The FBI, CIA, and whoever else with power gathered everything a day later, with the thin promise of sharing what they'd find with the public. Angel doubted the fuckers would divulge too much but considering this couldn't be shoved away like Roswell, they'd have to share something.
On the brighter side, if you want to call it that, what little body parts were recovered would be given a proper burial for the families.)
For another twenty minutes, with an additional ten after fighting with the tarp and wire, Angel made the slow, painful, trek down the hill to the path towards Jupiter's Claim. The cuts on his palm and face stung but were tolerable compared to slowly growing pain in his wrist and head.
Despite feeling so alert, yet so tired, he had to keep moving to get off the hill. Towards what he hoped would be the Haywood duo, medical assistance, and a kickass story of what led to the monster's demise.
He only stopped once to grab one of the used rolls of film that had miraculously survived, just like him, the whole encounter. Even if the footage was shit, he'd prefer to have more evidence to be on the safe side.
(The footage was completely unusable, but Angel kept it in the house despite that, deep in a closet. It was the last thing Holst filmed. Even if his death left many questions than answers. They couldn't find the camera he went in with after all and Em wanted something to remember the guy.)
With unsteady footsteps, and his mind wandering everywhere and nowhere at once, he finally made it onto the main path below just as dusk bled into unforgiving night. Although, knowing that there was nothing hidden in the stray clouds above brought some comfort. The warmth left over from the day also felt so very nice.
Calm.
The opposite of fear and a feeling that isn't as common for most, whether it be because you have a shitty 9 to 5 job or you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, it's a state welcomed. A prize for surviving the storm and, just for a moment, feeling like everything will be okay despite the physical and mental scars engraving themselves into your being.
Angel Torres hasn't felt this calm in months, even before all the alien hunting bullshit, before OJ and Em, he had felt a ball of anxiety and woe continuously building in the pit of his stomach since Rebecca left.
The feeling made him take shift after shift at Fry's to fill up the gaping hole in his heart, and waste his nights getting high while playing video games or discussing the paranormal online.
(The thought of her and his pathetic lifestyle usually made his heart numb, but now things were different.
He was different. Who wouldn't be after such a traumatizing experience? Yet, he felt more alive than he'd been in months. It helped that the Haywood siblings offered him their guest room after that night, and didn't care that he just never left.
When Rebecca would try to slither her way back into his life, after seeing the media frenzy he was involved in, it was OJ who'd plucked the phone from his hands.
"She ain't right." Was all the stoic man had told Angel before he blocked her number and handed the device back. Em had a few more choice words for his ex but he felt blocking her was closure enough.)
He clenched the film roll to his side and stood for a moment, letting himself catch his breath and enjoy the peace before reality set in once more.
The cuts on his hands and around his body burned, and his whole body ached. The pain in his head slowly grew sharp, making him vaguely nauseous but he stayed resolute on his goal.
However, hearing the familiar gallop of a horse made him stiffen up as he looked further down and saw a sight that nearly made him start crying again.
"WE GOT THE SHOT, MOTHERFUCKER!" Came the elated, emotion-filled scream from Emerald who was riding with OJ on the back of the black stallion, waving what he assumed were the photos of Jean Jacket in the air.
Following behind them slowly were the headlights of a news van, and behind that, were the flashing lights of a police cruiser.
Nothing would be the same again living in a post-Jean Jacket world. Even then, he knew that they all had lost a part of themselves during that last confrontation with it. Some more than others, as the alien had taken everything, anyone, it could suction up.
It would be an absolute bitch to deal with, in addition to the world turning upside down over proof of alien life. The physical and mental marks from the beast would follow them, especially now that the duo got their Oprah shot. He'd be damned if they didn't get an Alien special on the History Channel for what they went through, they'd at least earned that much.
Yet, watching as the siblings slowly dismounted Lucky to hobble over to him, he let out a watery chuckle, "You sure fucked up that thing."
In response, Emerald latched onto him with her own tear-filled laugh and OJ gave him a relieved smile as he brought the two into a collective group hug.
Angel ignored the flash of a camera and chatter near them and focused on the two knowing one thing for certain. Whatever was thrown at them tomorrow, it wouldn't keep them down for long.