Side-Write: Meathead Sunset

I've had a bit of a rough time the last couple days, and I thought I might have to push back this side-write, but I got the chance to at least try, even if I'm in a bit of a rough mood. This is what came out. It's a little schmaltzy and unoriginal, but I'm fairly happy with it. One of those stories I sort of expected to go a little different, but the characters managed to write their own story instead. Also an experiment with a different format, and I think it worked nicely.

As ever, this is less canon and more a what-if exploring the world behind Project Wild One! I hope you find it an enjoyable read!

~~~

(At curtain rise, KAL is perched on one edge of a steeply angled rooftop forming a long beam across the stage. He balances very nearly teetering over the edge, swaying with the wind. After several quiet moments, a voice comes from off-stage on the other side.)
GROT: Taking your time, huh?
(KAL jerks and looks back.)
KAL: What?
(GROT enters from the far side in a guard uniform.)
GROT: I had plenty of time to spot you and get up here, and I dunno how long you were hanging around before I spotted you. Wherever you're going, you don't seem to be in a rush.
KAL: ...Guess not. I've got all my life to get there.
GROT: Then you can spare a minute. Why don't you come and tell me about it?
(A moment passes, and KAL turns to face GROT.)
KAL: Am I causing a disturbance, officer?
GROT: Yeah, you're disturbing my inner peace. What's your name?
(GROT moves closer, but stops when KAL leans back dangerously.)
KAL: You keep your distance. I know how this works.
GROT: Oh yeah?
KAL: Easiest way to stop a suicide is one good push. I'll jump if you try it.
GROT: And what if I dive after you?
KAL: Why the hell would you do that?
GROT: You look pretty solid. If I grab you I'd probably be fine, and I'd be killing you.
KAL: That... There's no way that works.
GROT: Eh, I haven't done it before, but it's worked for others.
KAL: Bullshit.
GROT: Well, if you don't like the idea of going down cuddled up with me, how about you come over here? It'll be harder for me to shove you off if you're away from the edge.
(KAL considers this for a time.)
KAL: ...Back up, then.
GROT: How long do you think my arms are? You've got the whole roof, kid.
KAL: Back up.
(GROT gives an exaggerated shrug and takes two steps back. KAL slowly steps closer.)
GROT: What are you doing up here, anyway?
KAL: The fuck do you think I'm doing?
GROT: Wasting a good thing, that's what I think. You look healthy. Capable. What's the matter, get fired for your potty mouth?
KAL: Potty mouth?
GROT: Sorry, I'm a dad. It slips out sometimes.
KAL: What are you doing dancing on rooftops and divebombing jumpers, then? Trying to make orphans?
GROT: When I see a kid being a complete fucking dumbass, I gotta do something. Like I said, you're bugging the hell out of me.
KAL: Potty mouth. And I'm not a kid.
GROT: You're acting like one, getting up here. How old are you?
KAL: Twenty-six.
GROT: Shit, you're only three years younger than me.
KAL: Wait, you're only twenty-nine?
GROT: Thanks, kid. Chasing idiots like you around gives me gray hairs.
KAL: You know, I've met a few guards, but I don't remember them being such assholes.
GROT: Why are you trying to kill yourself, kid?
KAL: It's Kal.
GROT: Grot.
KAL: What?
GROT: What?
KAL: Your name is Grot?
GROT: Shut up, Kal.
KAL: I thought you wanted me talking.
GROT: Talk, then.
KAL: Make up your mind.
GROT: Talk. Talk.
KAL: I can't imagine living with a name like Grot.
GROT: So we're going for the pushing you off plan?
KAL: You probably could have by now.
GROT: Probably. But then you'd just find some other fucking roof, right?
KAL: Probably.
GROT: So save me the legwork and tell me what's going on.
(KAL considers him for several moments.)
KAL: I'm a really good fighter, you know.
GROT: Uh huh.
KAL: Really good. I've been fighting for years.
GROT: I can tell.
(KAL considers his scarred arms.)
KAL: Yeah... Yeah. Good fights. Kinda fights where you really feel it, you feel his entire body wrenching around your fist, or you feel the shock of his hit through all of you. You hear it coming up your spine. Fights where everything else fades away and you're just... an animal, two animals, destroying each other.
GROT: Wow.
KAL: You've never enjoyed a fight?
GROT: No, I have. Just never really felt like that about it.
KAL: Shame.
GROT: Hm.
KAL: You know, they say that long ago, before the Mercy, they used to have arenas just for watching fights. Like a play, but instead of a script, you just have two people fighting. Everyone would pay money to come and watch it happen, and the fighters could live off that money. Back when a fight... really meant something. When there was always a chance you could kill 'em, or get killed.
GROT: Never heard of that.
KAL: Can you imagine what it must have been like to fight, back then? Every time you put up your fists, you know this might be the last day of your life. One tiny slip, or you're just a little too slow, and that's it. Darkness, forever. Can you imagine how... good... it must have felt, to land a punch like that? To block one? Every single moment, you were right there on the edge, and the only thing between you and oblivion was your reflexes, your skill, and every drop of power you could squeeze out of your body. It must have been... fucking... exquisite.
GROT: You... wish you could... die in a fight?
KAL: Maybe. Well... No. I mean... yes, I wish I could. I wish I COULD die. In a fight. But it's not that I want to die in a fight. I want to know I could. I want to fight, knowing it could be the end of me. I want to fight another man to stay alive. Not just... for fun, or money, or whatever. I want that feeling, that... When I was young, I fought like that. Part of me knew I couldn't die, but my body didn't know. My body told me this was the end, and I felt... the fear. The... rush. It was so powerful, something I couldn't find anywhere else. I picked fights with bigger, stronger guys, and I found... I was good at it. I was so scared, but I clawed through it, and I won. And it was... so good. In the fight, and after, and... I felt like a better person, after. Like I'd passed through the fire and was stronger for it.
GROT: ...But that... faded.
KAL: Well... I couldn't win forever. Not the way I was going. I knew I couldn't really die, so I just kept finding harder fights, even when I'd barely survived the last one. And... they finally got me. And I came back, and... It wasn't... quite the same, after that.
(Lighting begins to redden as dusk descends over a moment of silence.)
KAL: It was never quite the same after that. And as I died more, chasing that special moment, my body started to learn. The feeling faded more. Last week, I... I didn't feel a damn thing, fighting three guys with knives. It was just... bodies, moving. There was no point. Nothing was at stake. And I couldn't... I can't. It-- it's not that I want to die. But I don't want to live like this. If I lived to look older than you do, but--
GROT: Fuck you.
KAL: But covered in scars, and every one of them was a time I'd put my life on the line and scraped through on my skill and strength alone, I think... I could be happy. Every one a trophy of something magnificent. But... they're not. They're only half the story, because I've died too, and that doesn't leave a mark. And... not one of these, not one of my fights, actually meant anything, in the end. It was just... children brawling. Without death, true death, watching over the fight and waiting to pluck us away, it was... only pretend.
(beat)
GROT: You talk pretty flowery for a dumbass meathead.
KAL: I was pretty careful to avoid head injuries that didn't kill me.
GROT: Sounds to me like you could have done something useful with your life 'stead of running around picking fights. Not a lot of people are blessed with both brawn and the brain to use it.
KAL: Probably could have.
GROT: But that wouldn't give you the juice that fighting did.
KAL: Nope.
GROT: Did you ever try?
KAL: Sure.
GROT: Did you, though?
KAL: A few times. I don't know how people live like that, just... fake smiling and quietly insulting each other, floating through life trying never to get hurt. It strangles me.
GROT: Well, there's a lot of ways to live, Kal. There's plenty of options for being a smarmy little asshole risking his life, without having to be nice to anyone or get in fights all the time for no reason.
KAL: Yeah?
GROT: Sure. How do you think I ended up up here?
KAL: Hah.
GROT: Well, I was less smarmy, but I know some guards like you.
KAL: You trying to turn this into a recruitment drive?
GROT: You could do worse, kid. But I know there's plenty of options out there. Tell you what. How about we get down off this roof and I'll help you find some?
KAL: Eh.
(Silence stretches.)
KAL: Grot.
GROT: Yeah.
KAL: You said you've enjoyed fights before.
GROT: Mm.
KAL: But not like I do.
GROT: Right.
KAL: What's that like, then?
GROT: You're a smart kid. I think you can figure it out.
KAL: Just tell me.
GROT: ...Fine. Well... Sounds to me like you just fight for yourself. Fight to live. Fight for money. But gosh, isn't it strange, somehow that's just not satisfying!
KAL: It used to be. It should be.
GROT: For kids, maybe. You're old enough you should know better, you know. That's probably the real reason you're up here.
KAL: I'm too old?
GROT: Too old to just fight for yourself. Too old to find happiness in throwing your weight around. I'm sorry, Kal. You've grown up. You caught the worst illness of them all, and it's incurable.
KAL: But you still enjoy fighting?
GROT: Sure.
KAL: Because you fight... for others?
GROT: Good job! You cracked it.
KAL: That's it?
GROT: Kal, fighting for others is the only reason it's ever worth fighting. What the hell have you fought for? A rush? A thrill? I know the real reason you're not satisfied with your scars.
KAL: I told you why.
GROT: Your scars don't mean anything because your fights didn't mean anything. You see this?
(GROT takes off his headwear, revealing a missing patch of hair as the light fades to a deep crimson.)
KAL: Is that a burn?
GROT: Arsonist. Tried to shove me in the flames and run for it. He's in prison now. And this one.
(GROT takes off a glove.)
KAL: That had to hurt.
GROT: This could've been a woman's face. Dumbass drug dealer didn't want to leave her behind to snitch. Caught the blade, nearly lost three fingers. It hurts every damn day, but I don't mind it. It reminds me I made the world a little bit better. What do your scars tell you about yourself?
(KAL is silent.)
GROT: I think they tell you you've been an idiot child.
KAL: ...These still don't sound like fun fights.
GROT: Oh, they were fun. Fun is where it feels good, right? It feels good when you see something's wrong with the world, and you grab that thing and you make it right, with your own two hands. I won't lie to you, Kal, a lot of this job is paperwork and listening to people lie. But it's all worth it, cause every once in a while, I get that moment where I'm toe-to-toe with some poor bastard making things worse for himself and everyone else, and I get to beat a little sense into him. I get to save a life when it's right there in front of me. I pull them out of the fire, out of the horror show, out of the dark places, and if anyone tries to stop me, I lay them out and I put 'em in jail. To the day I die, Kal, I'll know I've done good for the people, with these two hands. Nothing can take that away from me. And even if I die today, they'll remember me. I'll go out happy, because I did what I thought was right.
(KAL is silent for several moments.)
KAL: ...I don't think that'd work for me.
GROT: I think it might. Hell, I don't care if you go be a sellsword or... or whatever makes you happy. But I know that if you jump off this roof, you'll never be happy again. And that bugs the hell out of me. So.
(GROT takes a precise combat stance. KAL tenses.)
GROT: What's it gonna be?
KAL: ...You want to fight me?
GROT: Not really. But if it's the only way to get you off this roof alive, I will. You said you only like it when you fight with your life on the line. Well, it's on the line now.
KAL: I'm supposed to fight to... end my life?
GROT: You're the one acting like you want it to end. I'll fight to save your life, Kal. I'll enjoy it, too.
KAL: Because that's what makes you feel good.
(KAL takes a loose, brawler's fighting stance.)
GROT: It's the only way I can live.
(The two stand ready to fight, the wind whipping around them, the clamor of the city in the distance. Long silence. Finally, sunset ends, the light dimming. KAL lets his fists fall. A beat, and GROT drops his stance. The two stare at each other. GROT steps forward, and just before he can reach Kal, KAL steps back. GROT stops. He holds out a hand, in offering. Eventually, KAL takes it. GROT shakes it, gripping tight. Slowly, he draws KAL along, and KAL almost falls before catching himself and following after. Both exit where GROT entered. Curtain falls.)