The Stuntman

Day 11

“Again.”

Electricity surged through Bismark's entire body, causing him to roar in pain and push forward against the restraints holding him to the chair. His eyes rolled back until all that could be seen were the whites. After 10 long seconds, the man in the white suit waved a gloved hand and the electricity stopped.

Bismark collapsed back into the chair, eyes closed and chest heaving. Beads of sweat stood out on his face and torso and thin tendrils of smoke curled up into the air around his exposed skin.

The man in the suit leaned forward expectantly. “Talk.”

Bismark opened his eyes and glared up at the man in the suit. His eyes blazed with furious defiance despite his tortured body. The man in the suit flinched back instinctively in spite of himself. Bismark's upper lip curled into an animalistic snarl, exposing a clenched set of teeth whose canines were slightly bigger than normal.

“Never,” he growled.

The man in the suit grunted in frustration. He moved to the control panel at the back of the room and shoved the goon who had been manning the console aside. He turned the dial all the way to the right and pulled the lever.

Another surge of electricity, much stronger than the last, caused Bismark's body to arch violently out of the chair. Every tendon on his body stood rigid, his arms and legs strained against the wrist and ankle restraints. The lights above them flickered; the voltage running them was being redirected into the torture device. So strong was the electrical current that Bismark's jaw was forcibly clenched shut, preventing him from even screaming.

The man in the white suit gripped the lever and watched Bismark's body shudder with electricity for 10 seconds... 20 seconds... 30 seconds...

“Sir -” the goon standing beside him started but was quickly silenced by the raise of a gloved hand.

...50 seconds...One minute.

The man in the suit pulled the lever down and Bismark's body, no longer held up by the electricity, sagged into the chair heavily. With the machine deactivated, the lights above them flickered once then slowly brightened, once again illuminating the room with a consistent white glow.

The man in the suit peered over the console. Bismark's eyes were closed but his chest was moving up and down rhythmically. He was still alive, barely. The man in the suit was vaguely surprised. He'd heard about Bismark's abilities but had always assumed them to be exaggerated; dreamed up by soldiers who had been traumatized by their encounter. Bismark didn't tend to leave too many witnesses and the ones that were lucky enough to have survived an encounter with the man weren't usually in any condition to provide reliable testimony. Well, if nothing else, it seemed that Bismark's resilience lived up to his reputation.

“Are you still with us, Mr. Jones?” the man in the suit called, his thick Latin accent not masking the amount of pleasure he was getting from the current situation.

Bismark groaned in response. His head fell forward and his hands clenched into fists, secured to the armrests of his chair by the wrist restraints.

“I'll give you this,” the man in the suit said with a smirk. “You are a tough son-of-a-bitch. But sooner or later, everybody breaks. Even the tough guys. And when that happens, you're going to talk. Oh yes, Mr. Jones, you're going to tell me everything I want to know. You're going to tell me or you're going to die.” The man in the suit's smirk grew into a smile, as if the latter was preferable to him.

However, the smile faded quickly as Bismark, his head still bent forward against his chest, began to chuckle deeply. His back bounced up and down as the chuckle grew into a laugh. Finally, he threw back his head and cackled with laughter. The sound sent a chill down the spines of every man in the room. “What -” the man in the suit began.

“Foolish man,” Bismark said, still laughing. “Thinks he's safe with the animal in chains. Completely unaware of what he has really chained up. He calls me “Mr. Jones” because he's too frightened to acknowledge my real name. Too eager to dismiss the stories as fantasy.”

Bismark stopped laughing and looked up at the man in the suit. His eyes were no longer filled with defiance but with glee. His snarl had been replaced by a demonic grin and the man in the suit realized that he wasn't the only one enjoying the current situation. It was then that he realized that all the stories he had heard were true. The man chained to the chair before him was no animal – he was a monster.

When Bismark spoke next, his voice came out as if from the depths of Hell itself. “I am Bismark Jones!” he roared. “The Demon of Panama!”

The man in the suit reached for the lever but it was too late. Bismark yanked his arms up and the wrist restraints holding him to the chair snapped off easily. In the same motion, he kicked out his legs breaking away the ankle restraints. He leaped forward out of the chair as the lever was pulled. The lights above them once again began to flicker but the empty chair just hummed uselessly with electricity.

The man in the suit released the lever without bothering to pull it back down and instead pushed the big red button next to it. An alert began to blare over the PA system, signalling for all the guards in the complex to converge on the torture room.

As 10 guards marched into the room, clad in black military fatigues and armed with stun batons, the man in the white suit hastily made his exit. “Secure the room!” he ordered over his shoulder. “I want him alive.”

Bismark watched the man in the suit exit the room and made a mental note that he had turned left at the door. He then turned his attention to the 10 armed soldiers that had formed a circle around him. They looked well-trained but they had evidently come insufficiently armed. Stun batons? Seriously? Bismark smiled and raised his fists. He was going to enjoy this.

The circle of soldiers raised their stun batons and edged slowly towards him, tightening the circle. Bismark widened his stance. They were about 3 metres from him and closing cautiously. The lights continued to flicker above them and the siren continued to blare over the PA system.

2 metres. Bismark could hear the buzz of electricity coming from the torture chair beside him as well as from the stun batons the soldiers were holding.

1 metre... His nostrils flared and the scent of adrenaline induced sweat filled his sinuses. His fists clenched tighter, thirsting for blood.

“And cut!”

Jesse lowered his fists as the studio lights snapped back on. He could see Damien smiling from the director's chair as the mechanical arm brought it to a rest at ground level. The black-clad soldiers lowered their stun batons and began to move off-set. One of them murmured, “Good job,” as he walked past and Jesse offered a “You too, mate.” in response.

Steve, Jesse's PA, walked on-set and passed him a towel and an Evian. “Cheers,” Jesse said and began to wipe the moisture from his exposed torso.

“Great take, Mr. McCann,” Steve told him with genuine admiration.

“Thanks, mate. I felt really good doing it. You don't think the laugh was too much?”

“Nah, I think you nailed it. We'll see what Mr. Knight says though.”

Speaking of, Damien was walking towards them. It was clear from his smile and the glint in his eye that he felt the same way as Steve.

“Great job, Jess,” he said jovially as he approached, his LA accent making him sound like the surfer dude that he was. “That one's a keeper for sure.”

“Should we do it again for safety?” Jesse asked waving behind Damien at the man in the white suit; his co-star, Eduardo Villanueva. Ed gave him a thumbs up before continuing his conversation with his own PA.

“Nah, that'll do you for today, I think,” Damien replied. “You hit the showers, get ready for tomorrow. We're going to get the stunt guys in next to film the fight scene. We'll be filming that for the rest of the day.”

Jesse glanced at the stunt guys off-set. Sure enough, they were warming up, still dressed in their black army fatigues. “Are you sure you don't need me to stick around?”

“Don't worry,” Damien laughed, slapping Jesse on the bare arm. “You go home and rest those muscles. Cooper can take it from here.”

“Heads up, boss!”

Jesse caught the T-shirt that had been tossed his way. He looked up and saw Cooper approaching, dressed in the same ragged sweat pants as he was. His hair and make-up had been done and Jesse felt a familiar and uncomfortable sensation creep into his stomach.

Jesse had never quite gotten used to looking at his fabricant doppelganger. It was like looking into a mirror but something was not quite right - the face was backwards and the reflection was moving of its own accord. This caused an uneasy sensation as his mind tried to process the anomaly. He had read that this was a common phenomenon among people meeting their identical fabricant for the first time – Dissociated Reflection Disorder they called it. Although he and Cooper had worked together for a while now, Jesse still hadn't been able to shake that uneasy feeling somehow. Perhaps it was due to their joint profession and the necessity for them to be constantly wearing the same costumes while filming. Whatever the cause, it was a shame because Jesse genuinely liked Cooper but could never feel 100% comfortable around him.

“Thanks,” Jesse said pulling the T-shirt on.

“Great scene,” Cooper told him, smiling. “You should've seen Damien's face as we were rolling; he was practically jizzing his pants up there.”

“Shaddup,” Damien laughed. Then he shrugged. “I might've been a little hard.”

Jesse snorted with laughter through a mouthful of water and Cooper threw his head back and cackled. “I knew it!”

Jesse wiped his mouth and gave Cooper a fist bump. “You just starting for the day?”

“Yeah, we just finished previz for this scene yesterday and film-genius over here wants to get it on film today for some idiot reason.”

“Hey, don't question my methods,” Damien replied. “We gotta do it while it's still fresh. Trust me, you won't be disappointed with the results.”

“Tell that to my lactic acid build-up,” Cooper laughed.

“Well, I can hang around if you guys need a hand?” Jesse offered.

Damien waved him off. “Nah, that won't be necessary. You've got a full day tomorrow, so go get some rest. You earned it.”

“Yeah, boss. Don't worry, I got this.” With that, Cooper went over to join his fellow stuntmen.

“I wanna be rolling in 10 minutes!” Damien called after him. Cooper waved back absently and began stretching. Damien sighed and turned back to Jesse. “Great work today, man. I'll see you and Ed bright and early tomorrow, okay?”

“Got it, mate. See ya.”

Damien trotted back to the crew area and began talking seriously to a cameraman. Jesse turned to look at the stunt crew again. They laughed as they warmed up, Cooper laughing with them. While Jesse had always felt a divide between himself and the stunt guys, Cooper seemed to fit in well with them. Jesse wondered why that was.

“You okay, sir?” Steve asked beside him. Jesse had forgotten that he was standing there.

“Yeah I'm okay, mate,” Jesse replied. He patted Steve on the back. “Come on. Let's call it a day.”

※

Later that evening, Jesse was in the gym in the basement of his Malibu home, in the middle of a heavy bag set. His gym was pretty spartan compared to the rest of his house, more reminiscent of his humble beginnings, he supposed.

It had been 19 years since Bismark Jones made his first big screen appearance on the full length feature film War Pawns and although he hadn't been the central character of the film, he had become an instant fan-favourite and had succeeded in turning Jesse McCann, the actor who portrayed him, into a household name. Truth be told, Jesse hadn't even been the first choice to play Bismark. However, a scheduling conflict for the studio's first choice, as well as Jesse's comparatively meagre price-tag, had landed him the role and the studios couldn't have been happier with the end result. 19 years and 5 movies later (not including the 2 follow-up ensemble films, War Pawns: Firestorm and War Pawns: Empires End) and Bismark's popularity was still going strong. Jesse McCann was now one of the top 5 most highly paid and sought after actors in Hollywood – not bad for a country boy from Queensland, Australia.

But it wasn't all luck that had contributed to Jesse's success – he had worked damn hard. As an up-and-comer and a new face in Hollywood, nobody had expected anything from him when he first entered the movie scene. Nobody really gave him the time of day. War Pawns had been a relatively low budget production at the time and nobody had really expected the movie to be as big of a hit as it turned out to be. Despite this, Jesse was always the first one on-set and the last one to leave. He worked round-the-clock with a speech coach (paid for with his own money) to perfect what would become Bismark's trademark growl. He was in the gym everyday and worked directly with the stunt crew to make sure that all the stunts he performed were as convincing as they could be. And he did do his own stunts, of course, due to budgeting requirements. In Jesse's opinion, it was this last factor that quickly cemented him as an action icon.

However, times change and with it so does the industry. With fabricant technology becoming better and more affordable, more and more fabricants were being hired as stunt men due to their manufactured athleticism and physical appearance. Studios could eventually afford to order their own fabricants to be made, specific to the needs of whatever project that was under development. Gone were the days of laborious casting calls looking for extras or doubles of a particular build, hair colour or age. The director would simply tell the producers what they needed and the producers would put in a call to the studio executives and ask them to approve the order for a batch of fabricants that matched the specifications required of the production team.

It was only a matter of time before this service extended to actors as well. Why would producers hire a human stuntman or body double with a 75% physical match, when they could custom-order a fabricant who could not only be enhanced with a body that allowed for more physically demanding stunts but could be designed to have a 99% physical match to the actor they were doubling for? A near-perfect copy, that could fool even the most die-hard fan without having to rely on camera trickery, all while keeping the actor out of harm's way.

Jesse threw a 2-3-2 combination. The sound of the gloves hitting the heavy bag echoed through his empty house. He threw out a 1-1-2, then a 1-2-3-2, followed by a 1-6-3-2. He hugged the bag as it swayed towards him, breathing heavily. He checked the clock on the far wall. He'd just finished his third set with the bag, which usually wrapped up his Thursday workout routine. He supposed he should get some rest; as Damien had mentioned, they had a pretty busy day of filming tomorrow, on location as well.

He stepped away from the bag and stretched his right shoulder. It was sore; it always got sore after workouts, particularly on Thursdays, which was toward the end of the week and a particularly arm-heavy workout. It had recovered a lot but in truth it hadn't been 100% since the second standalone Bismark movie, simply titled Bismark 2. That was back when he was still doing most of his own stunts. After that movie, Jesse had relied more and more on his stunt double, Brad, who had eventually retired after doing Empire's End. Fair enough - they were both getting pretty old by then and Brad had worked a lot harder than Jesse; made a fair bit of money working with him as well.

It was during negotiations for the fifth Bismark movie that the studio had suggested getting a fabricant stunt double. He'd heard of the concept before but it had been too bizarre for Jesse to get his head around at the time, so he had let his agent sort out the details and they were able to negotiate the rights to Jesse's likeness to the studio for a tidy sum. The rights would be tied to a 5-year contract, during which he would commit to three more Bismark titles with them. The studio had commissioned a fabricant to be made in Jesse's likeness and that's how Cooper and Jesse started working together. The movie they were working on now, Bismark: Demon of Panama, was the third project they'd worked on together and was set to be the final time they would don the Bismark mantle.

Bismark was a huge part of Jesse's life and had been for almost 20 years. Now, with the last chapter of the Bismark story in production, Jesse found himself often looking back at the time he had spent playing the character. Sometimes, he would load up the first Bismark movie and watch it in its entirety, marvelling at how young he looked and longing for days gone by. He missed the youth, the wide-eyed naivety of his younger self. He missed the feeling of going in to work everyday with the promise of new and exciting experiences. He even missed the hard work he'd endured and the sense of accomplishment he would feel from training his body to be able to perform the fight choreography, or from working for months with a dialect coach to be able to pronounce all of his Spanish lines perfectly, or from finally getting that perfect take after hours or even days of shooting. Most of all, he missed doing his own stunts. There was nothing quite like the rush of adrenaline he would feel in the moment, knowing that one miscalculation or misstep on his part could result in him being hospitalized, or worse. It was during those moments that he truly felt like Bismark; like a hero.

Jessie paused in the middle of removing his gloves. He glanced at the clock over on the wall and, although his right shoulder screamed in protest, he strapped his gloves back on, turned back to the heavy bag and started punching.

Day 15

“You want to do what?” Damien Knight leaned against his desk, staring at Jesse incredulously.

“You heard me,” Jesse said. “I said, I want to do the helicopter jump.”

Damien paused for a second, then laughed. “Well, of course you'll be doing the helicopter jump eventually! But we won't be starting the green screen shots until after we shoot on location.”

Jesse shook his head. “I'm not talking about the green screen shots.”

Damien stopped laughing and stared at Jesse again. “You're serious?”

Jesse nodded.

“You want to do the actual jump?”

Jesse nodded again.

Damien reached behind him and grabbed the tablet from his desk. “You're talking about the helicopter jump in Act 3, Scene 6?” He tapped on the tablet a few times then scrolled down to the relevant section. "So you want to -" He peered down at the tablet screen, reading. “-jump off of a 30-storey rooftop, onto a moving helicopter, grabbing onto it with one arm as it takes off?”

“Now, I know what you're going to say -”

“No,” Damien said. “No, is what I'm going to say. Absolutely not.”

“Look, Damien -”

“You're out of your mind, man. This stunt is as raw as it gets. It's a real helicopter and a real frickin' rooftop. Hell, if you were to fall from that height, the airbag wouldn't even guarantee your safety. What you're asking for is a complete rewrite.”

“You don't need to rewrite it. I'll do the stunt as is.”

“Oh you will, huh?” Damien leaned back against his desk again and observed Jesse. “How's the shoulder?”

Jesse said nothing.

Damien sighed and shook his head. He moved to his chair and sat, gesturing for Jesse to take the seat across the desk from him. As Jesse sat down, Damien reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “What's going on, man?” he asked, pouring two doubles.

“I don't know,” Jesse sighed, accepting the drink. “I guess I've been feeling my age a bit lately. You know, this is the last Bismark movie but I feel like I'm only playing half the character. I feel like a hack, mate.”

Damien took a sip of his drink and nodded thoughtfully. “Uh huh. And you want to jump off of a 30-storey rooftop to make yourself feel better.”

“It's not about making myself feel better. Well, it is, but it's not all about that.” Jesse took a deep sip and tried to turn his thoughts into words that didn't make him sound completely daft. “The fans deserve better," he finally said. "The character deserves better. This is the last Bismark movie, man. It should be the real Bismark out there, doing the dirty work. You know, like the good old days.”

Damien peered at Jesse over the rim of his glass. “Do you have a problem with Cooper? Is that it?”

“No!” Jesse was frustrated. “That's not it. Cooper's a great guy and I appreciate all the work he's done for us - for me. It's just that...” Jesse trailed off.

“You wish we didn't need him.”

Jesse stayed silent and took a sip of his drink.

Damien sighed. “Look man, I know where you're coming from. Honestly, I do. And you know I respect you. There aren't many guys in your position that work as hard as you do. That aren't afraid to put themselves out there and get their hands dirty. I still remember working stunts with you for the first time on... what was it?”

“Firestorm,” Jesse said, smiling.

Damien slapped the table. “Firestorm! That was it. Remember that fight scene we did together in the elevator?”

“Yeah, I remember you elbowing me in the head for real. I had a massive bump there for weeks.”

Damien laughed and held up his hands. “Hey man, I was just defending myself. You were a scary dude. When you were in that headspace, man, you were so... focused. It was like you were Bismark. When I hit you, I thought you were gonna tear my arms off. But you just flicked a switch and you were Jesse again. You laughed it off and we went to Taco Bell after shooting was finished. Remember?”

Jesse laughed. “Yeah, I remember. Good times.”

Damien smiled and nodded at the memory. “Yep, good times.” He grew serious and looked over at Jesse. “Do you know why I quit stunting and went into directing?”

Jesse shrugged. “Because you kept hitting the actors?”

“No, smartass.” He took a sip from his glass and looked at Jesse meaningfully. “I loved stunting and I was good at it. I moved into directing because, no matter what you do and no matter how good you are, you can't beat the clock.”

“Hey, if you're saying it's about age -”

Damien shook his head. “I'm not talking about age.”

Jesse didn't follow. “What are you talking about, mate?”

Damien checked to see that his door was closed then leaned over his desk towards Jesse. “Now, you know I'm no fabricant racist, right? But I've seen a lot of my buddies put out of work because of fabricant labour. You know Brad?”

Jesse nodded.

“You think it was his choice to retire? Hell, no! He loved working stunts with you. He would've kept going until he died if it were up to him. He retired because he'd heard the talks from the studios and he was smart enough to see what was coming. He and I were the lucky ones. We were able to make a living and get out before the industry changed. The demand for human stuntmen has gone down dramatically over the past decade; it's all but non-existent in Hollywood. Stuntmen I know – good, highly-trained people that used to work on huge, million-dollar projects – are now relegated to the indie scene, where the productions can't afford fabricant doubles. And who knows when the technology is going to become affordable for even those types of productions.” Damien tapped his wristwatch. “The clock, man. It's progress. The future. You can't stop it. You can't fight it. You just gotta accept it and hope that there's a place for you in it.”

“What are you saying?”

“Look, even if I thought it was a good idea for you to do this stunt – which I don't – the studio would never allow it. Fact of the matter is, they can't afford the cost of insuring you for such a stunt. If a stunt goes wrong and a fabricant dies, their insurance umbrella covers them and they get a replacement. If it goes wrong and an actor is injured, they can't be replaced. In a worst-case scenario, the actor dies and the media shit-show that ensues would be astronomical. Believe me, no studio, no matter how large their cojones, wants to be the studio responsible for the loss of beloved action star, Jesse McCann.”

Jesse grew silent, holding his glass of whiskey absently in his hand, realizing the truth of Damien's words. In that moment, Damien felt an extreme sense of pity for his co-worker.

“I'm telling you this as your friend, Jess. You can't fight the future. The best you can do is try to get ahead of it. The world doesn't need human stuntmen anymore. How long do you think it will be before the world no longer needs human actors?”

These words snapped Jesse out of his trance. “What did you say?”

Damien held up his hands. “I mean no offense. But I read that they're able to implant memories in fabricants when they make them; memories that influence their personalities and thought processes. Imagine if, instead of having a human actor play Bismark, they could create a fabricant with all the memories of the character Bismark, essentially making a real-life Bismark. The fabricant wouldn't have to act like Bismark because he would be Bismark, down to his memories, personality and appearance. You know what I mean? Once studios get the idea that they can create fabricant characters to be in their movies at a fraction of the price of paying for an actor, it's only a matter of time before your profession becomes obsolete too, buddy.”

Jesse nodded thoughtfully. It all sounded crazy to him but at the same time he could see it happening. Damien had given him a lot to think about.

“You alright, pal?”

Jesse looked at Damien, who was looking at him with concern. He smiled. “Yeah, I'm fine mate.” He downed the rest of his drink and held up the glass. “Thanks for the drink and for the chat.”

Damien leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “Anytime, man. My door's always open. Look, if you're really keen on it, maybe we can have you being more hands-on in some of the fight scenes. I'll talk with the producers and try to sort out a compromise.”

“Thanks, mate. I'd appreciate that.”

Jesse left the room and Damien was left alone with his drink and his thoughts. He really hoped he hadn't come across as a fabricant racist, because he really wasn't. He liked Cooper too and the rest of the stunt crew. They were professional and worked hard, much harder than some of the guys he knew from back in the day. And they were a fun bunch as well; he'd gone drinking with them a few times. Talking to them, you would have no idea that they weren't born but rather created in a lab somewhere. Damien thought that it must be rough always having that hanging over you, never knowing if you did what you did because you wanted to, or because it's what you were made to do.

Damien pulled a carton of cigarettes from his drawer and lit one up. As he took a long drag of tobacco filled goodness, he mused to himself. At the end of the day, what was the difference really? Human, fabricant, everyone was just doing what felt right to them. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers. Exhibit A: he knew that these little sticks of death were probably going to kill him in the long run but, despite this knowledge, something in his brain made him want them. Certainly, humans were a product of programming just as much as fabricants were; it's just that it took us a lifetime for our programming to finish, whereas for fabricants it was simply the final step of a two-week manufacturing process.

He thought about Jesse and about human programming. Then, he pulled out his cell phone and began to type a text to his producer.

Day 30

Over the next few weeks, Jesse worked more closely with the stunt crew and was able to be more hands on during the action scenes. He took to them like a fish to water, despite not having done that kind of work for a while. A lot of his progress was actually thanks to Cooper, who had taken it upon himself to train Jesse personally. While some people would have felt threatened by someone trying to encroach on their territory, Cooper was incredibly welcoming. He talked Jesse through the fight choreography for each scene and helped him out when he got stuck. It helped Jesse a lot to be able to watch Cooper demonstrate, as it showed him exactly how he needed his body to move. And Cooper was a great teacher. Indeed, when he was around, Damien barely needed to direct the action at all because Cooper could pinpoint exactly what Jesse was doing wrong and what needed to be done to improve the shot.

Of course, they still needed Cooper to do the more dangerous stunts, like the car stuff and the jumps, but Jesse seemed happier to have a hand in at least some of the action. At least, that's what Damien thought.

While Jesse was happier now that he was doing some of his own stunts again and he was appreciative of both Damien and Cooper's parts in getting him back into it, he couldn't help but want more. There was a part of him, something deep inside him, that fed off the adrenaline. That part of him was hungry for something bigger. Something more dangerous. It was for this reason that he decided to talk to Cooper over some drinks.

He'd let Cooper choose the bar and he was not surprised to find that he'd chosen something right up Jesse's alley; a hole in the wall with dim lighting, one pool table, a grizzled war vet behind the bar, and a jukebox with a seemingly endless supply of Eric Clapton records.

Jesse was wearing a baseball cap so as not to attract attention but Cooper hadn't bothered. Jesse guessed that he'd been here enough times for the staff and regular patrons to know that he wasn't Jesse. Either that or they simply didn't care. Looking around at the two other lonely drinkers inhabiting the bar, their heads down and empty glasses stacked around them, Jesse thought that the second scenario was more likely.

“There you go, boss,” Cooper exclaimed setting four tall mugs of frosty beer on the table and taking the seat across from Jesse.

“Cheers, mate,” Jesse said, smiling. “I've got the next round, yeah?” They clinked mugs and started drinking. With the mug raised to his lips, Jesse looked across at Cooper who was downing his beer with the intent to finish it in one go. Jesse threw his head back and followed suit.

Cooper finished his first beer with a satisfied grunt and wiped suds from his mouth. He reached for his second beer and sipped it as Jesse finished up his first. “How you feeling?” he asked.

Jesse placed his empty glass on the table and reached for the second beer. “Yeah, not bad.”

“You did good today. You know, for an older bloke.”

Jesse laughed. “Fuck you.”

Cooper chuckled. “Nah, but seriously, you are doing really well. The boys are really impressed as well. To be honest, they weren't convinced a big time Hollywood actor could cut it on the floor but you have definitely proven them wrong.”

“Thanks, man. I try.”

“Yeah, with the way you're going, I could be out of a job.” Cooper laughed at this comment but it made Jesse pause.

“What is your plan after this project, Coop?” he asked, observing him carefully. “If you don't mind me asking.”

Cooper drank from his mug and looked up, thoughtfully. For a second, Jesse thought he spotted a glimmer of doubt in the man's usual sunny demeanour. “I haven't really thought about it,” Cooper answered finally. “This one's the last film in my contract. After this, I guess I'm free to do what I want.” The sentence was positive but there was a definite note of sadness in Cooper's voice when he said it. As far as Jesse understood, Cooper had been made for the purpose of completing three movies. That meant that once the movies were completed, so too was Cooper's reason for existing. For the first time, Jesse thought that he came close to understanding, to a certain extent, what that might feel like.

“Well,” Jesse said hesitantly. “What do you want to do?”

Cooper shrugged. “I don't suppose you need a full time stunt double?”

“Of course, as long as I'm acting, there's bound to be work with my company. If that's what you want.” Jesse looked at Cooper meaningfully. “Is it... what you want?”

Cooper took a long pull from his beer. He set the mug down and rubbed the back of his head. “Nah, I suppose it isn't.”

Jesse could see Cooper struggling with something he wasn't sure he should divulge. “Come on, son. Speak on it.”

Cooper took another pull from his beer and looked at Jesse. “You promise you won't laugh?”

“Sure.”

Cooper leaned in across the table and spoke his next words softly. “I want to be an actor.”

Jesse returned Cooper's gaze. “Why would I laugh at that?”

Cooper sat back in his chair and threw his hands in the air. “Because it's ridiculous and it will never happen.”

“Why not?”

“Fish like me, we can't be actors. Never gonna happen.”

"What are you talking about?”

Cooper looked at Jesse. “You can cry on cue, right? Of course you can, I've seen you do it. How do you do it?”

Jesse thought about it. “Well, I guess I think about the scene and what the character would be feeling. Then I try to recall a memory that evokes similar feelings in me.”

Cooper pointed a finger at Jesse. “Exactly. You see, us fish don't have memories. Not real ones anyway. Everything you see here.” He gestured to his body. “Everything in here.” He tapped his head. “Engineered, mate. Hell, even my bloody accent is fake.” He gulped down his beer and slammed the mug down on the table noisily. “We have memories implanted but they're not our own, not real. Therefore, we can draw feelings from them but those feelings are not drawn from real experiences. The feelings themselves are not genuine; they're more like a photograph of a photograph. We lack a real sense of human empathy. And because of this simple, irrefutable fact of science, we could never be actors.”

Jesse took a swig of his beer and set his mug down thoughtfully. After a moment he spoke. “That is the biggest pile of horseshit I have ever heard.”

“Wha -”

“Do you know what actors are? Actors are people who pretend to be someone else for a living. We take characters from the page and we give them life. Now you tell me that your memories are implanted. And that makes them not real? Why? Because they never happened?”

Cooper shrugged.

“Do you think any of the shit that Bismark Jones has experienced has ever happened? Of course not. But does that make him any less real than any of us? To the millions of fans out there, he's made more of an impact than either of us will and he'll be remembered long after we're gone. Now you tell me, who's more real? Him or us?” Jesse softened up. “What I'm trying to say is that it doesn't matter if your memories are implanted. They are your memories and they are real. The feelings that come from them are real. And if your feelings are telling you that you want to be an actor, then you should fucken be an actor.”

They both sat in silence, Jesse's words hanging in the air between them.

Then, Cooper began to chuckle. Jesse joined him and their chuckles grew into full-on laughter, so loud that the lonely barfly sitting at the counter looked over at them.

“Fuck me, that was beautiful,” Cooper said, still laughing.

“Your mother,” Jesse replied, wiping a tear from his eye. “I mean it though, man. If you want to act, I can help you out. I know people who can get you started.”

Cooper smiled and raised his glass. “Thanks, I appreciate that. If only everyone thought like you did. However, audiences and studios have spoken. Fish can't act for shit. Fact of the matter is that no one is going to green-light a project starring a fabricant. Especially one that looks like me. There's just no money in it. Nobody wants to watch a movie starring 'not-Jesse McCann', you know?”

Jessie drank his beer and looked at Cooper. “Well, maybe we can change that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you've been helping me do a lot of these fight scenes. What if we got you to do one of my scenes? An acting scene. Something important. Show the world that 'not-Jesse McCann' can act with the best of them.”

“Which scene are you talking about?”

“Act 3, Scene 12.”

“You're gonna have to help me out, I don't actually read the scripts.”

Jesse leaned across the table. “Bismark's death scene.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow. “You're serious?”

Jesse nodded.

“There's no way Damien's gonna go for that.”

Jesse gestured to himself. “Look at us! How would he know? How would anyone know?”

“Well, there's this,” Cooper replied, gesturing with his thumb at the barcode on the back of his neck.

Jesse dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “That thing is covered by makeup half the time anyway. Look, this will work. We switch places so you can do the scene. We keep quiet about it until after the movie comes out. Then, once the movie has become critically acclaimed and beloved by fans, we come out with the truth and let the world know that the most important scene in the movie, maybe the most important scene in all of Bismark's movies, was performed by a fabricant. We prove to the world once and for all that a fish can act. Or...” Jesse shrugged. “The movie bombs and I publicly blame your performance for its failure.”

Cooper laughed through a mouthful of beer. “No shit. There's a high chance of me sucking. You sure you want to bet the entire Bismark legacy on a performance from an untrained semi-human?”

Jesse leaned back in his chair and regarded Cooper with all seriousness. “I'll make you a deal. A scene for a scene. I give you Bismark's death and you give me the helicopter jump. We've still got four weeks before we have to shoot either of those scenes. That's four weeks that we can spend training each other. If by the end of those four weeks either one of us is unconvinced that the other can pull it off, then we call the whole thing off. Deal?”

Cooper looked at Jesse's outstretched hand. He noticed for the first time that Jesse had a scar running across his thumb, just below the cuticle. Cooper had a scar just like it but he had no memory of how he got it. He finished the rest of his beer, then said, “Fuck it. Why the hell not?”

He took Jesse's hand and they shook on it, sealing the deal.

Day 60

Damien looked out across the cityscape, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was a beautiful day, albeit a little windy. He could see the whole city from here, all the way to the mountains in the distance. The hum and thrum of the city played out 30 storeys below him. Conditions weren't going to get much better than this. He turned and walked towards Cooper, who was seated in a deck chair among the crew, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Jesse was standing with him but other than him, the helicopter pilot, Eduardo's stunt double, and the camera crew, there was no one else on the rooftop.

Cooper was looking intensely at the helicopter on the pad, probably visualizing the jump he had to make.

“You ready?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

Cooper nodded, not taking his eyes off the helicopter.

“Now remember, we only need one good take of this jump. After that, Jesse will take it to the green screen. Now, helicopter fuel ain't cheap and the pilot is hourly so try to get it right the first time. We have the airbag set up in case you fall so if you do, try to land on it flat. Of course, from this height, even that might not save you so... try not to fall.”

Cooper looked up at him dryly and stood up, shaking the blanket off his shoulders, exposing the bulging muscles underneath. Jesse held out a fist. “You got this?”

“Yeah,” Cooper replied, bumping the fist. “I got this.”

“Good,” Damien exclaimed. “Then get on your mark. Let's get this shot and then hit up TGI Friday's after. It's nearly Happy Hour.” With that he walked to his director's chair, leaving Cooper to get into position. He sat down on his chair and pulled up on the lever attached to the armrest. The mechanical arm that the chair was attached to raised him into the air and brought him to a stop a couple of metres above the crew, where he could survey everything. He flipped up the screen on the other armrest and could see the footage from each of the four cameras in play.

Examining the display, he keyed his headset mic. “Okay everybody, bottom of the ninth, bases are loaded. Let's get this right the first time so we can all go home and do the wife or girlfriend thing. Camera 2, remember to get in nice and tight on that tracking shot. Camera 4, remember to keep the sun behind you. Sam, Paul, can you hear me?”

A voice came over the radio. It belonged to the helicopter pilot, Sam, who was currently inside the helicopter along with Eduardo's stunt double, Paul. “Yeah, we copy.”

“Start the chopper.”

The blades of the helicopter started turning, gradually picking up speed. “Now tell me your instructions.”

Sam spoke without hesitation. “I take the chopper out slow, hovering at 1 metre above the rooftop turning to face due east. I take it out 1.5 metres over the edge and at 1 minute 25 exactly, Cooper's going to hit my left skid. I'm going to catch him, then pitch away from the rooftop two-by-one metres and stay there until we cut. Once we cut, I'm to bring him back to the rooftop and allow him to disembark before landing at a safe distance. That about right?”

“Perfect,” Damien responded. “Just like we rehearsed guys, except this time there are no wires. It's a bit windy as well, so make sure to bear that in mind. Cooper, you ready?”

“Ready,” Cooper replied.

“Sam?”

“Good to go.”

“Okay.” Damien raised his chair up a few centimetres and held up a hand. He brought the hand down and yelled, “Action!”

The helicopter began to raise off the ground immediately. Damien could see Paul, in character and dressed in his white suit, pretending to bark orders at Sam from the back of the helicopter as they took off slowly. He checked Camera 1's footage and was pleased with the tightly-zoomed shaky-cam shot of the helicopter. He checked Camera 2 as the door to the rooftop burst open, revealing Cooper, in full costume and make up. Camera 2 went in for the close-up and Damien could see the expression on Cooper's face. This was his third movie playing Jesse's stunt double but even so, the accuracy with which he was nailing the trademark Bismark snarl was eerie. Almost as good as Jesse himself.

Cooper started running for the helicopter, which was now hovering at 1 metre and turning to face due east. Cooper ran across the rooftop with precisely-timed steps. It was 50 metres from the rooftop doorway to the edge of the roof. Cooper needed to clear that distance in exactly 16 seconds and hit the edge of the roof with enough speed to clear the 1.5-metre gap that Sam was creating for him. Sam brought the helicopter out over the edge of the roof. Paul pointed at the approaching Cooper and continued to yell at Sam, his face filled with fake panic. Cooper was now 20 metres from the edge and closing fast. Damien held his breath and checked his watch.

Cooper hit the edge of the roof at 1 minute, 24 seconds. He grabbed the left skid of the helicopter with his right hand at 1 minute, 25 seconds exactly. The helicopter dipped as Cooper grabbed it, seeming to struggle under the weight but really moving in such as way as to lessen the impact stress on Cooper's right arm. The skid had been customized to make it easier to grip but even so, Damien could see Cooper's forearm muscles bulging from exertion as he held fast, his body hanging over the air suspended 30-storeys above the ground.

The helicopter swayed away from the rooftop and rose another metre before holding its position. All four cameras were fixed onto the helicopter. The shot was perfect. Damien breathed again. “Cut!” he said over his headset mic. “Good job everyone! We fucken got it! Bring it in, Sam.”

It all happened so fast after that. Damien would later report to authorities that he wasn't sure how it had happened. One second, Cooper was there. The next, he wasn't. One of the cameras was still filming and caught footage of the fall, footage that the studio would eventually make disappear. Upon closer inspection of the footage, it looked like Cooper had gone to grab the skid of the helicopter with his other hand but as he was reaching for it, his right hand had lost its grip, causing him to fall. Sam, the helicopter pilot, wasn't even aware that Cooper had fallen until after he had landed the chopper. His report stated that, as he and Paul had exited the helicopter, all the cameramen were standing around in shock. The only people who were moving were Damien Knight and Jesse McCann, who were at the edge of the rooftop. Damien was struggling to hold Jesse back from the edge, while at the same time yelling for someone to call 911. Jesse was struggling against Damien, trying to get to the edge of the building, a look of pure anguish on his face. What he hoped to accomplish once he got there, no one would have been able to tell you, probably not even Jesse himself.

Shooting resumed after a two-week standby period. Once the investigation into the incident had concluded and the production was cleared of any misconduct or wrongdoing, it was back to business as usual. The helicopter sequence was the last on-location scene to shoot, so the rest of the film was completed in studio. Jesse was obviously rattled by the whole experience but he was a professional and he continued to work as such. Some people on set even said that he was more focused than ever, as if the experience had made him more determined to give his best performance. Principle photography was actually finished ahead of schedule and the film was released less than a year later to rave reviews. One reputable film critic would go on the record to say: “Bismark: Demon of Panama is the perfect send-off for long time fan favourite character, Bismark Jones. Star Jesse McCann gives it his all and from the weight of emotion displayed in his performance it is apparent that saying goodbye to the character he has been spent the last two decades of his life playing was harder for him than anyone.

Compelling, poignant and powerful. Easily the best performance of the actor's career to date.”

Epilogue

PD: We're back on in 3...2...

RR: Welcome back to the Late Late Show with Robert Rabideau. We're here talking to Academy Award winner and star of the upcoming film, Sunrise In Mecca, a man that needs no introduction, Jesse McCann, thank you for joining us.”

Audience applause.

JM: Always a pleasure, Rob.

RR: So, it's been a while, huh?

JM: Has it?

Audience laughter.

RR: Well, it's felt like a long time for me. It's been like, eight years, man.

JM: Eight years? No way.

RR: Yes way. The last time we had you was for Demon of Panama. That was about eight years ago, right?

JM: Oh yeah, shit, you're right. Shit, am I allowed to say 'shit'?

RR: Yeah, it's fine. We'll get that shit in post.

Audience laughter.

JM: (Chuckling) Sorry, mate.

RR: No worries, no worries. So what's up, man? You win some awards and all of a sudden you're too good for our show?

JM: Nah, it's not like that. I've just been a bit busy.

RR: You certainly have been busy. Five major films in eight years, three of them earning you a Best Actor nomination and one of them earning you the Award. Not bad, huh?

Audience applause.

JM: Thank you. Thank you. What can I say, I enjoy my job.

RR: I'll say. But you've always been a hard worker, haven't you? Even back during the Bismark days.

JM: Well, you know what they say, if you enjoy what you do, you never have to work a day in your life.

RR: (Looking at the camera) I've been working for a looooong time.

Audience laughter.

RR: But seriously, a lot of people are familiar with you for your character in the War Pawns series, Bismark Jones.

Audience applause.

RR: But after Demon of Panama you went from all-out action star, to one of the most in-demand leading men in Hollywood, in the span of less than a year. Was it difficult for you to make the transition from action to drama?

JM: Well, drama is something that I've always wanted to do, whereas action is something that I've always enjoyed doing. I guess, as I got older, it got harder for my body to keep up with that kind of work though. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was spongy and weak, you know?

RR: (Looking at McCann's body up and down) If you say so.

Audience laughter.

JM: (Chuckling) Anyway, the transition to drama felt pretty natural. With the Bismark films finished, I think it was the right time.

RR: Well, I think we can all agree that it was the right move to make.

Audience applause.

JM: Thank you. Too kind.

RR: And it's not just your acting work that's keeping you busy either, is it? Your foundation has been keeping you busy as well. Tell us a bit more about that.

JM: Yes, the Genuine Article Foundation. Basically, we do a lot of work at home and abroad to promote equal rights for non-traditionally birthed people.

RR: You mean fabricants?

Audience gasps.

RR: What? Is that something we're not supposed to say now? (Pressing an imaginary intercom button) Barbara, please delete my Twitter account and tell my wife and kids to pack their bags.

Audience laughter.

JM: (Chuckling) It's fine. Yes, well, an NTB person is someone who wasn't conceived in the traditional sense.

RR: (Raises an eyebrow at the camera)

Audience laughter.

JM: That could mean an android, a fabricant, an IVF birth, a clone, even an AI consciousness. You see, on paper these people are said to be equal to us and have all the same rights, in America at least. However, despite this, they face a lot of barriers, even in today's society; barriers that are often invisible to the average citizen. At the Genuine Article Foundation, our mission is to spread awareness of these kinds of barriers and prejudices, so that everyone gets a fair go, regardless of the circumstances of their birth.

Audience applause.

RR: Is this a cause that has always been close to you?

JM: (Pauses) For as long as I can remember.

RR: And your latest film, Sunrise In Mecca, which you actually co-wrote and directed, has a strong pro-NTB message, doesn't it?

JM: Ah, well, sort of. It's more of an exploration of what one considers to be real. Does something have to have existed in reality, to be considered 'real'. Like, are dreams considered 'real'? If not, are decisions and actions taken based on dreams, things that are a direct by-product of these dreams; can these be considered as 'real'? Who is more real; a man who has lived his life based on what he can see and touch or a man that follows his dreams?

RR: ...Riiiiiight.

Audience laughter.

JM: (Chuckling) I just came off sounding like a complete tool, didn't I? Trust me, though. It's worth a watch.

RR: Well, we have a clip. Do you want to tell us about the clip?

JM: I think in this scene, the main character, Jason, has just found out that his body is actually in a medically induced coma and his reality is merely playing out in his subconscious.

RR: Spoiler alert.

Audience laughter.

JM: (Laughing) Not to worry. It's from early on in the film. The rest of the movie is about how he deals with his situation.

RR: Well, the movie is Sunrise In Mecca and it's opening in theatres on September 9th. If you would like more information about the Genuine Article Foundation you can hit up...

JM: genuinearticle.org

RR: Thank you very much for joining us, Jesse McCann. It's always good to see you. Don't wait so long next time, okay? We miss you.

JM: (Chuckling) I'll try, mate.

RR: Okay. Roll the clip.