Joanna Bishop, a channeler and actress

"You think I can just let you roam around this city like the monster you are? With this power? This... curse?!" the bald man across the way from you said, glaring up at you. He looked like he'd taken on an army by himself, covered in wounds hidden by the raindrops falling on the skyscraper's rooftop, pelting down on both of you.

You glared at him, tossing the gun you held in your hand to the side. "Sam, it's over. Nobody can help me but me. And you can't stop me, either."

Growling, the man bolted up right, swinging his arms at you in a fast flurry of punches. You ducked and dodged, as the man only hit air, before you crouched down, springing upwards with lightning-fast agility. Spinning in the air, you kicked him square in the chest, sending him tumbling backwards and over the edge of the rooftop.

You stepped over toward the balcony, slowly and dramatically, glancing over the edge to look down at the man... lying on a padded mattress a few feet beyond the edge.

"And cut, that's a good take, we'll wrap for the day," you heard a voice to your side. For a moment, you'd forgotten where you were, but as you looked up at the green walls, you pulled yourself out of the moment to look over at the director. "Nice work as always Jo."

Flashing a pretty smile, you winked at the man in the chair surrounded by monitors. "That's the only work I know," you replied. The crew laughed, as they began to pack up their things. An assistant ran over to you with a towel as the sprinklers shut off, so you could dry your hair and stop dripping all over the place. The bald man stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. Despite his menacing appearance, his grin was infectious as he wandered over to you. "Now how in the world did you learn to kick like that so flawlessly with barely any notice? Almost knocked the wind out of me this time," he said.

"I didn't become the best by taking my time," you replied, draping the towel over your shoulders. "That second punch of yours could've used a bit more rotation, you know. It looked awkward, like you almost lost your balance."

The bald man chuckled. "Now you're giving me lessons in martial arts, ay? I've been training in Muay Thai for years, Jo. There's no way you hadn't been learning something in your free time to be this good. Whoever it is training you, I need their number."

You squinted, and tapped the man's chest, your glare filling the man with a genuine fear. "Don't. Don't. You know my rule, that's the one word that everyone drops from their vocabulary to stand in the same room as me."

Holding his hands up, he backed off. "Sorry, Joanna. Just trying to have a little fun, is all. This doesn't need to be another incident for the tabloids to get wind of, if you don't make it one."

With a huff, you walked off quickly. Idiots. How hard is it for them to not use one stupid little word around you? Though, it wasn't just the word. It was the mindset. You, Joanna Bishop, were one of the most successful and enigmatic actresses in the business, wanted by every studio for their blockbuster hit despite your increasingly bizarre behavior. Unlike actors who pettily demand having only blue-colored candies in your dressing room or that everybody treat them as the character when method acting even after hours, you had a very specific, and at times paradoxical, request: you don't work with the needy. Everyone on the cast and crew has to know what they want in life and know how to get it themselves. If you or your army of assistants sense that someone on the crew has some sort of dilemma that needs to be solved, you're gone for the day without a word.

Most people attribute this demand to simply an incredibly rigorous work ethic and expecting everyone else to rise to meet you. It was easy to believe, given that you somehow seemed to do the impossible with each film: on short notice, you would know how to drive a stunt car, or speak flawless French, or in this case you managed to demonstrate a martial arts style seemingly out of nowhere. Whatever the role called for, no matter how tight the schedule, you could meet the deadline. And the studios paid handsomely for that talent.

Back at your dressing room, you stood alone as you looked in the mirror, staring into your own eyes, and then down at your sculpted body. How you managed to maintain a physique like this without ever being seen by the paparazzi in a gym was anyone's guess. Your hands tugged your shirt open in a fast motion, exposing your breasts to yourself, as your hands reached up to grip at the soft flesh. Briefly, you moaned, closing your eyes and arching your back at the touch. Once one hand started to travel down your stomach, however...

You held the other hand out and a blue light coursed through the room, before a man stood next to you. You'd lost that toned physique, at least to some degree, but you knew you could easily hide that fact under a sweater. "You know the rules, Jian. Below the belt costs half your cut."

Jian smirked, flexing his biceps. "You don't think I deserve a bonus after that scene from earlier today? Not even Montgomery Miller could keep up with us and he's an action hero legend! Everyone thinks you're a miracle worker, you know, but it's not just you out there. Jo, just let me--"

"Out, I need to change."

With a grunt, Jian stormed toward the door. "Fine, whatever. One more week of this circus act, then I want my payment no later than the weekend after." He opened the door slowly, looked to see that the coast was clear, before he covered his head with his hoodie and vanished.

You slipped out of the rest of your clothes, glancing at yourself in the mirror again, in particular replicating the grip Jian had just had on your chest. It wasn't as exciting as it was when he did it... having someone compelling your motions like Jian did in that moment was what made it so thrilling. Despite everyone's perception of you as a control freak, few realize that you had to basically let go of control over yourself to be as successful as you were. A dozen films meant you'd had at least dozen people living inside you, spurring your motions for whatever the scene called for. Mixed with them, your behavior changed, but everyone was convinced by now that it was all part of your own acting techniques rather than anything related to your channeling curse.

And what a frustrating curse it had become to manage in a city like La Belleza, home to the motion picture industry's best (or at least best-funded) studios. This city used to be filled with hopes and dreams, but like everywhere else in the world, times had changed. Things were hard on the average citizen, who needed--

There's that dreaded word again. You pushed it from your mind.

The average citizen struggled with the many demands modern society had dumped onto them. Which meant that you couldn't go out and go to your favorite restaurants or anything without extremely careful planning, for fear of someone taking your body for a joyride. For years, you thought you could outsmart your curse by willfully channeling others, but your curse fought back. Now, you could only willfully channel once a day unless you'd involuntarily channeled someone or something else. It wasn't fair! Nobody else in your family suffered from such a wide window where you couldn't willfully channel, but none of them seemed to detest the curse the same as you. Certainly none of them had to do damage control like you did on the nights where someone did take control and do something stupid with your body and face to hide their involvement.

You changed back into a bulky sweater and sweatpants, hiding your altered physique--your body was still incredibly sexy, maintained by a careful diet and at least moderate exercise to keep that butt and chest firm and stomach trim, but people would still notice a difference if you let a photographer take a picture at just the wrong time. Your assistants should have cleared the way for your path to your car by now, as they did every night. Only a few of them even knew why you had them take such **** measures, but all that mattered to most was that they only got paid on the months without incidents in your drive home. Even with all the safeguards, with every precaution taken, you couldn't prepare for every scenario. So when you finally opened the door to make the trip home, you still felt a chill run down your spine that you might not make it to the car that night.