Paris Vurton and Anne-Marie Davis, two strangers with the same face but different lives are a product of the luna eclipse that was predicted hundreds of years ago to bring about the reformation of the Kingdom of Berton.
Seventeen years later, Paris...
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"Get down!"
Anne-Marie dodged a bullet and started to run as fast as she could to the car parked a few paces in front of her, dodging as many false bullets as she could while the camera men tried to catch up as fast as they could.
That was her life, the life of a stuntwoman. It was just like every other day she had to get set on fire or jump from one tall building to another, or intentionally make her car summersault in the air and into a crash. Her life was tough, hard and filled with a lot of risks and just like every other day, she fought monsters like these ones, too many monsters even in form of humans.
More gunshots. she tried to find her way to the car as fast as she could with all those men in suits with huge sticks running after her. She was running out of time and one of them was getting really close, closer than the script had said they would, taking his role entirely personal and before you knew it, he hit the back of her head with the stick just as she got closer to the car and reached for the knob.
Anne-Marie felt her legs weaken as she pushed her body to the car for support. She froze, she needed a minute to take the pain as her vision started to become really fuzzy. She could feel the blood that tickled down her back as she slowly turned to the man behind her who was shocked on his own, he couldn't believe he had just done that.
"Why is she stopping?" She could hear the movie director whisper to a crew member. "How can she stop now?"
"It looks like she's been hurt sir,"
"I can see that but she has to go with the scene, she can't stop now, this is the passion we've all been waiting for. Shouldn't she take advantage of the current situation?" He clicked his tongue. "Gosh, I'm about to lose my mind, where on earth did you hire such an unprofessional dimwit?"
What? Dimwit? How could he call her a dimwit when she was literally bleeding? Did they not care? Did they not care how badly hurt she was? Anne-Marie held her breath.
"Anne-Marie," she could hear the assistant director whisper her name behind her, she slowly turned to him. "Anne-Marie, keep up with the acting." He encouraged her, "get into the car." he pointed at the car.
Was he serious? Anne-Marie narrowed her gaze on the camera and the crew that had their attention focused on her, waiting for her to make a move, she could see the heroine of the movie, standing there watching her so comfortably in a fur coat that shielded her from the cold. Anne-Marie took a deep breath, her head was aching and she was barely managing to keep herself from falling at that point. She could feel how the blood kept tickling down her neck and into her blouse.
She sniffed. That's how she had lived for the past seventeen years, so recklessly, from hand to mouth, doing the hardest jobs just to survive. She had a lot at stake and she needed all the money she could get from doing things like this, from sacrificing her safety. She knew she needed this job, it was the first one in weeks and she couldn't afford to lose it like the last one. She had to keep going for his sake.
