Danger Kid

Chapter 20

"So who was that samurai guy? I'm assuming not one of your old Gauntlet buddies." Asks Brittany, referring to the crazed swords man who attacked us this morning.

"I have no idea." I say as an answer to her question, for once being completely honest with the girl. I still can't imagine who he is. We both contemplate for a bit, and Brittany drives.

We have a trip ahead of us. Brittany's "friend" lives quite a distance away, and we've decided to take a break for a night, until the next day. We're at a hotel, choosing to spend the night here, hoping that any of our now multiple assailants have lost track of us. Our track record of days without an attempt on our lives is pretty weak however. Day one, we fought Vaughn. Day two, Torres and friends attacked us. Day three, that Samurai guy. I'm not overly optimistic for our chances of safety today. However, because dramatic narratives like to have things happen in no more than threes, maybe we have a chance.

Brittany sits on a couch, rifling through her smack pack with a wrench and a pair of wire cutters. I'm stretched out on the floor, resting, but not sleeping. I figure it's not too important to sleep, because we'll be driving for several hours tomorrow on the way to Brittany's "connection."

"Well, he sure seemed to not like you." She muses, yanking out a mess of copper from her contraption.

"Huh. Well, a lot of people don't like me."

"I like you." She says shyly, probably the first time she's struggled to express herself.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

She doesn't answer at first, but finally manages, "Well, you're really cool."

Ha. I laugh in my brain, and then I laugh out loud.

"Why's that?" I say again.

"Well... You're like a super hero."

"We've talked about this. Super heroes can't exist."

"Sure they can."

"Well, I'm not one. What kind of super hero is on the run from the government and is universally hated? If anything, I guess I'd be like an action hero, or maybe an antihero.'

"What's the difference?" she says, ever cinematically uncultured.

"Well," I say, "Action heroes don't necessarily have to be good, or stand for justice. They can just be angry dudes with a gun, or fists. Dudes out for revenge."

"But you are a good guy." She insists with childlike persistence. I don't answer, because I'm considering to myself if there is much of anything good about me. I'm doing this in a completely analytical, non-self-hating fashion. Obviously.

"Well, the concept of good and wrong is pretty ambiguous." I finally say dismissively.

She diverts her attention from her back pack, staring at me. Firmly she says, "No it's not.

"Sure it is."

"No. That reasoning is just an excuse people make not to take sides."

I look back into her determined eyes, trying to decide if her statement is profound or naïve.

"So, what? You're saying everything is right and wrong? What about the classic, the man who steals food because his family because they're starving. Les Miserables, or whatever."

She frowns a little, "Stealing is wrong, even if someone lives in a world so messed up it has forced him to do rob. Anyways, ambiguous or not, you strike me as a good guy."

She turns her attention back to her pack. I consider arguing, but decide not to. Every man and woman ever to exist has speculated the difference of right and wrong, the purpose of life, and all that crap. A thousand generations consisting of billions of men have thought up every potential answer to our existential and other such emotional conundrums. If there was one set answer, humanity would have settled upon it by now. Anybody who thinks they have a new perspective to share doesn't realize that they are just preaching to the choir.