….
Two months into pre-production of building sets, costumes, and the most important thing - Iron Man - suits, the results are finally showing.
At this pace, the filming should begin in about a month.
Well, at least that is what the perp team working on the [Iron Man] film was told.
"Making this huge suit fit a human can't be easy, no matter what. They've gone with CGI for all the high moments anyway."
"Why are you saying it aloud?"
"Just wondering if anyone else is curious."
"Well, nobody is."
"Right."
Josh went back to polishing the chest part of the suit as his fellow team member worked on the helmet.
Still, he believes what he said is not wrong. Of course, he is just a team member of the prep team for a big budget film, and honestly what he believes doesn't really matter.
But it does to him.
Josh runs his microfiber cloth over the arc reactor housing one more time, watching his distorted reflection bend across the curved surface.
There are seven versions of this suit in the warehouse.
He repeats - Seven.
Each one built for a specific purpose, like a toolbox where every wrench has its own particular bolt.
The Hero suit - the one he is polishing now - weighs forty-two pounds.
Josh knows because he helped carry it from the mold shop to the paint booth, then from the paint booth to here, then from here back to the paint booth.
"You are doing that thing again." Marcus says from across the table.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you count in your head and your lips move."
Josh stops polishing. "I don't do that."
"You absolutely do that. You have been moving your lips for the past five minutes." Marcus holds up the helmet, checking for imperfections in the face plate. "What were you counting?"
"Days until wrap."
"Bullshit."
Josh grins despite himself. "Okay. I was counting how many man-hours went into the Arc reactor alone. Just the prop version, not the one they will paint over in post."
"And?"
"Eighty-seven."
Marcus whistles low. "You are a weird dude, Josh."
"I prefer 'observant.'"
"Weird."
But Marcus says it fondly, which is why they work well together.
Marcus has been in the prop department for fifteen years - he worked on the previous [Spider-Man] film.
And more importantly, he also worked on a couple of films from the [Power Rangers] franchise.
However, Josh has only been here for two years, and this is his first major superhero film.
He knows Marcus thinks he is too earnest, too caught up in the details.
Josh thinks Marcus has forgotten how to be amazed.
The warehouse is massive, a repurposed airplane hangar in Burbank that still smells faintly of motor oil. Their station is in the corner, surrounded by foam core boards covered in reference photos.
There are at least forty pictures of Robert Downey Jr. in various poses, plus technical drawings, plus what Josh privately thinks of as the 'mood board' - images of actual F-22 fighter jets, Formula One cars, expensive watches.
Overall, things that are both functional and beautiful.
That's the thing about Tony Stark's suits.
At this point they are not just some armor. They are an aesthetic philosophy.
"Hand me the buffer." Josh says.
Marcus tosses it over.
It's a small orbital sander with a foam pad, the kind you would use on a car. Because that's what they are doing, essentially - automotive work on a human-shaped vehicle.
Josh works the buffer over the shoulder pauldron, feeling the slight resistance where the lacquer hasn't fully cured.
The Mark I suit - this version - is supposed to look like it was machined by a genius in a cave, then perfected in a California mansion. Which means every surface has to be flawless but not too flawless.
Battle-worn but not damaged, used but not abused.
It's a philosophical nightmare rendered in urethane and fiberglass.
"You know what I heard?" Marcus says, not looking up from his work.
"What?"
"They are building a CG version of every suit, every single one. Even the Hero suits we are making."
Josh stops buffing. "Why?"
"Insurance, and because they can do things in CG that we can't do practically. Like, the whole transformation sequence? The suit building itself around him? That's all digital."
"So why are we building seven versions?"
"Because." Marcus says, like he is explaining multiplication to a child. "...the director believes in practical effects. He wants something real for the actors to interact with, something that catches the light right, something that has weight."
Josh nods slowly.
This is what he loves about the work - the intersection of real and unreal, the way they are building something tangible that will become something impossible.
"How is the Damage suit coming?" Josh asks.
Marcus jerks his thumb toward the back of the warehouse. "Melissa's team is still weathering it. I saw it yesterday. Looks like it went through a blender."
The Damage suit is the version that gets destroyed - blown up, shot at, dragged through concrete. It's made of softer materials, pre-scored in places so it breaks cinematically.
Josh helped paint the scorch marks on the chest piece, layering black and brown and orange until it looked like the suit had taken a direct hit from something explosive.
It was the most fun he had in weeks.
"What about the Stunt suits?" Josh asks.
"Both completed. They are over in the rigging department getting the harness points reinforced. Apparently the stunt guy is doing some kind of wire work that requires the suit to support an extra two hundred pounds of tension."
Josh does the math automatically. The Stunt suits weigh thirty-one pounds each - lighter than the Hero suit because they are made of softer rubbers and foam latex. Add two hundred pounds of tension, distribute it across six harness points, factor in the dynamic load during movement…
"They are going to need to reinforce the shoulders." Josh says.
"Already done."
"And the lumbar area."
Marcus looks up. "How do you know that?"
"Because the stunt guy - what's his name, Dan? He is five-eleven, one-seventy. The actor is five-nine, one-fifty. Different center of gravity. When Dan takes a fall on the wires, all that force is going to transfer to the lower back. If they don't reinforce it, the suit's going to crumple like a beer can."
Marcus stares at him for a long moment. Then he pulls out his phone and texts someone.
"What?" Josh asks.
"Nothing. I am just telling Chris you called it before engineering did."
"Chris doesn't care what I think."
"Chris." Marcus says. "...is going to care when the stunt suit fails during a test run and you predicted it three days early."
Josh goes back to polishing, but he's smiling now. Maybe what he believes does matter. Just a little bit.
The day wears on.
They break for lunch - shitty sandwiches from craft services - then return to their station. The afternoon light slants through the high windows of the warehouse, catching dust motes and making them look like tiny stars.
Josh moves on to the leg pieces, checking each articulation point. The suit has to look like solid metal but move like fabric. Every joint is a miracle of engineering - ball bearings, hidden elastic, carefully placed seams that disappear under the right lighting.
"You ever think about what it's like?" Josh asks.
"What?"
"Being inside one of these things. Really inside it, not just for a fitting. Like, going to war in it."
Marcus snorts. "It's not real, man. It's fiberglass and paint."
"I know it's not real. But the character thinks it's real, and the audience has to believe it's real. So we have to build it like it's real."
"You are doing the thing again."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you get philosophical about props."
"I am not—"
"You are. You did it last month with the gauntlets. You spent twenty minutes explaining why the finger joints had to move in a specific sequence or the whole illusion would fall apart."
"They did have to move in a specific sequence."
"I know. You were right. You are always right about this stuff." Marcus sets down the helmet and stretches. "That's why you are weird."
Josh doesn't argue. He knows he gets too invested, knows he cares too much about details that ninety-nine percent of the audience will never consciously notice. But he also knows that the one percent who do notice - they are the ones who believe. And belief is what makes movies magic.
Later, as the warehouse empties and the other crew members head home, Josh stays behind. He does this sometimes, when the space is quiet and he can think.
He walks to the back of the warehouse where all seven suits are stored.
The Hero suit, freshly polished.
The two Stunt suits, battle-ready.
The Damage suit, pre-destroyed.
The Closeup suit, with animatronic face plates for shots where the helmet opens.
The Lightweight suit, for scenes where the actor has to run or fight hand-to-hand.
And the Display suit, the one that will be used for promotional materials and eventually auctioned off for charity.
Seven versions of the same impossible thing.
Josh stands in front of them, hands in his pockets, and feels something like pride. He didn't design these suits. He didn't engineer them. He didn't even build most of them - that was the work of dozens of people across multiple departments.
But he helped make them real.
And tomorrow, when the cameras roll and the lights hit just right, someone watching the monitor will see Tony Stark become Iron Man.
They won't see the seams. They won't see the harness points or the foam latex or the eighty-seven man-hours that went into a single prop.
They will see magic.
Josh smiles to himself and heads for the door, already thinking about tomorrow's work. The Mark III suits are coming in next week, and those are going to be even more complicated.
He can't wait.
….
The next morning arrives with unexpected chaos.
Josh is halfway through his coffee when Marcus grabs his shoulder.
"He is coming."
"Who?"
"Regal. The young director, he is doing a walk-through of the warehouse in twenty minutes."
Josh nearly spills his coffee. "Twenty minutes?"
"Yep. Chris just texted, they want everything display-ready."
The warehouse erupts into controlled panic. People are wiping down workstations, arranging tools, making sure the suits are positioned at optimal angles.
Josh returns to his station and gives the Hero suit one final check, running his cloth over surfaces that are already immaculate.
His hands are shaking slightly.
"Relax." Marcus says. "He is not going to notice our station. He will look at the suits, nod, say something director-y, and leave."
But Josh can't relax.
This is Regal Seraphsail - youngest genius director known for his brilliant and mesmerising story telling - and the man who convinced a studio to bet two hundred million dollars on a B-list superhero and a controversial casting choice.
The man whose vision they have all been serving for months.
Eighteen minutes later, the warehouse doors open.
Regal walks in surrounded by an entourage - producers, assistants, the head of the props department, a few people Josh doesn't recognize.
The director is simpler than Josh expected, wearing jeans and a baseball cap, but he moves through the space with absolute authority.
Josh watches from his station as the group makes their way through the warehouse.
They stop at the creature effects area first, then the weapons rack, then the vehicle mock-ups.
Regal asks questions, touches things, listens carefully to explanations.
He is not just looking. He is studying.
The group approaches the suit storage area.
Josh's heart hammers against his ribs. He forces himself to keep working, to look busy and professional, even though he was just moving the same microfiber cloth over the same section of armor plating for the fourth time.
"These are the Mark III suits." Chris, the props supervisor, is saying. "We have completed all seven versions as specified. The Hero suit has the highest detail level—"
Regal holds up a hand, everyone stops talking.
He approaches the Hero suit slowly, hands clasped behind his back. For a long moment, he just looks at it. Then he leans in close, examining the chest piece.
"The panel lines." he says quietly.
"Sir?" Chris asks.
"The panel lines around the arc reactor. They are not symmetrical."
Josh's stomach drops.
The asymmetry was intentional - his idea, actually.
He had argued that if Tony Stark built this suit by hand, even with his genius and his machines, there would be tiny imperfections. A millimeter of variation that suggested human creation rather than machine precision.
But now, with the director staring at it, it just looks like a mistake.
"It's deliberate." Chris says carefully. "The team thought—"
"I know what they thought." Regal traces one of the panel lines with his finger, not quite touching. His voice is soft but carries. "And they were absolutely right. This is exactly what it should be."
"Tony's not manufacturing these suits." Regal continues, still studying the chest piece. "He's inventing them. Iterating. Even with JARVIS helping him, you would see the process. These little imperfections - they are not mistakes. They are proof of creation."
He moves to the shoulder pauldron, tilting his head. "And this weathering here. This isn't battle damage."
"No sir." Chris confirms. "That's workshop wear. Scuff marks from fabrication."
"I didn't ask for this."
The warehouse goes quiet.
Regal looks up, and for the first time, he is smiling. "I didn't ask for this level of detail, but it's exactly what the suit needed. In fact I was here today to ask for them, but it looks like I don't need to. Who made this call?"
Chris hesitates, then turns. "Josh? Can you come here?"
Josh's legs feel like water, but he walks over. Up close, Regal is even more intimidating - not because he is trying to be, but because he radiates the kind of focused intelligence that misses nothing.
"You did the detail work on the Hero suit?" Regal asks.
"I—yes sir. Some of it. Marcus and I both worked on—"
"The asymmetrical panel lines. That was you?"
Josh swallows. "Yes sir."
"Why?"
It's not an accusation. It's a genuine question.
"Because." Josh says, and his voice steadies as he talks. "Tony Stark is building these suits alone in his workshop. Even with advanced tools, even with his genius, he's iterating. He is learning as he goes. The Mark I was crude. The Mark II had icing problems. By the Mark III, he's getting it right, but it's still handmade. And handmade things, even perfect ones, have tiny irregularities. They have personality."
Regal studies him for a moment. Then he looks back at the suit.
"Show me the other details I didn't ask for."
Josh's brain stutters. "Sir?"
"You put in the panel lines. What else did you add?"
Josh glances at Marcus, who makes a small gesture that might mean 'go ahead' or might mean 'you're on your own.' He turns back to the suit.
"The actuator housings on the shoulder joints." Josh says, pointing. "They have micro-scratches from repeated movement. And the boot thrusters - we added heat discoloration around the edges, like they've been fired multiple times during testing. And inside the gauntlets, there are pressure marks where Tony's hands would grip during the power-up sequence."
Regal crouches down to examine the boot thrusters. "You can't even see this in most shots."
"No sir. But Mr. Downey will see it during fittings, and the stunt team will see it. And someone, somewhere in the audience, might catch it for a fraction of a second, and it will feel real to them."
Regal stands up. He is quiet for so long that Josh starts to worry he's said something wrong, overstepped somehow.
Then the director extends his hand.
Josh shakes it, bewildered.
"This is exactly the kind of thinking that makes practical effects work." Regal says. "Anyone can build a suit. But you are building Tony Stark's suit. You understand the difference."
"I just—" Josh's voice catches. "I really love this character, sir. Iron Man means something to me."
"That's obvious." Regal turns to Chris. "Make sure Josh is consulted on all the Mark III and IV suits. I want this level of intentionality in every version we build."
Chris nods, but Josh can see the small smile on his face. "Absolutely."
Regal moves on to examine the Stunt suits, but before he leaves their area completely, he turns back.
"Josh?"
"Yes sir?"
"Keep caring about the details. The movie lives in the details."
And then he's gone, surrounded again by his entourage, moving toward the next station.
Josh stands frozen for a moment. Marcus appears at his elbow.
"So…." Marcus says. "Still think what you believe doesn't matter?"
Josh laughs, a little breathless. "I think I need to sit down."
"Nope. You need to get back to work. Because now you're on the Mark IV team, and those suits are going to be even more complicated."
"I know." Josh says. But this time when he says it, he's grinning.
He returns to his station and picks up his cloth. The Hero suit gleams under the warehouse lights, every imperfection perfect, every detail deliberate.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Josh is already thinking about the Mark IV. About what kind of workshop wear Tony Stark would leave on a suit he built while perfecting the technology. About the story each scratch and scuff would tell.
Again, the audience might never consciously notice these things.
But they will believe.
And that's what makes the magic real.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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