It was like some freaky circus inside the trailer.
There were three Jets, a Spike and two Fayes. They were all crammed into a corner of the trailer drinking coffee and eating pastries. Jet was astounded by the similarities between himself and the other two Jets. Everything was almost perfect, even the scar running through his eye. One Faye was a lot taller than the other but they both looked approximately the same.
Jet sat in front of a mirror while a very effeminate man, differing only in uniform from the other crew members by wearing a giant silver belt buckle, plucked at Jet's eyebrows. Jet was a strong man, had been through all sorts of forms of physical torment, his cybernetic arm being a testament to that, but none had been quite as unbearable as this. It was like someone was continuously poking pins into his forehead. The make-up artist was finally forced to numb his brow with an ice cube before going at it.
One of the Jets was complaining. "I don't get paid nearly enough to put up with this shit. Have you SEEN the size of my trailer? And how many guys do they need to double for the same character?" He whined in a very un-Jet manner.
"Tell me about it. And I'm so sick of getting yelled at by that asinine director. What's his problem anyways?" One Faye muttered.
Jet was trying to hear the conversation but whenever his head would drift in their direction the make-up artist would yank his head back to face the mirror.
"You know, you really should exfoliate. At your age you can't afford to have fifty layers of dead skin..." He began. Jet's eyes rolled skyward. He continued to listen to the conversation between the stunt doubles.
One of the Fayes, the shorter one, puffed on a cigarette. "We should just walk out. Like, all of us. Just grab our stuff and get the hell out of here. Like they're going to be able to find doubles to do all this crap work for them if we leave." She exclaimed excitedly.
"You know, you're absolutely right. Maybe they'll concede to treat us better if we leave." Spike finally spoke up. He didn't sound like Spike at all.
This would be too perfect.
"Well, then, let's do it!" Jet cried, slamming his fist down on the table beside him. This time it was the real Jet who spoke. With that all the other stunt doubles threw fists up in the air. One of the Fayes removed her red sweater from around her shoulders and stomped on it in the form of a symbolic, rebellious act. The door to the trailer opened and slammed closed several times and the make-up artist stared, open-mouthed, at the expanse of the empty trailer. He turned and looked at Jet.
"This eyebrow looks a little thicker than the other." Jet said.