Star Harbor Nights

"That... was a mistake," Ray said when they had finished. He lay on his back, completely naked, in the grass beside the foot path, looking up at Star Harbor's brilliant night sky.

"Something that big doesn't just end up someplace that small by mistake," Diana said with a satisfied smirk, laying on the grass beside him. "Such a task requires a certain amount of determination to accomplish."

"I'm serious... you and me, doing this... like this," Ray said. "It's not right. It shouldn't have happened."

"Which is exactly why it had to happen. You see, you're the irrepressible bad boy who doesn't play by society's rule," she said in a languid, matter-of-fact fashion. "I'm the sexy bad girl who can throw down with guys three times my size without ever breaking a nail, or a sweat. We are the stars of our own lives, and while other lovers may come and go, they'll never be more than special guests. We'll ultimately never be satisfied with anybody but each other, and no matter how much we try to fight it, we'll always end up getting back together... we'll fight, we'll fuck, we'll fall apart, and a little while later we'll start the whole thing all over again. The chemistry's just too good to ignore for long."

"Get real... you're talking like this is an episode of some TV show."

"Of course," she said. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?"

"Life is exactly like TV," Diana said.

"This is that ninja thing all over again, isn't it?"

'In a way," she said. "That's just one example. Maybe it didn't start out that way... but life imitates art, art imitates life, life imitates art imitating life, art imitates life imitating art imitating life, and so it goes. Haven't you noticed how much closer to real life the crime shows have been getting in their portrayal of life on the streets? Is that just because they're doing more research, or is it also because a whole generation of drug dealers and assorted lowlifes learned how to act from watching TV? The lines are blurring, getting fuzzier. Just like music... does a band get their video on cable TV because they're popular, or are they popular because they got their video on TV? That's not even touching reality shows. Ninety percent of all ancient martial arts lore consists of attempts by eastern philosophers to find the underlying pattern that guides our lives, and I'm telling you the new pattern is this: life is television."

"Damn it... why does every girl I nail end up going bug fuck crazy?" Ray asked.

"I'm not crazy, Ray... it's life that's crazy," Diana said. "Last week, I was down in Paradise, fighting zombies. The week before that, I was fighting robots in Nebula City. The week before that, I was kidnapped and forced to compete in a secret underground martial arts tournament sponsored by ancient demon gods. The week before that, well... that was kind of a 'me' week. But the week before that was more zombies. How is that not just like a really bad TV show?"

"Well, for one thing, if it had been TV, your 'me week' would have ended up filled with way more wacky adventures than the other ones put together," Ray said.

"Maybe, but maybe that's just what happens when the show gets pre-empted or goes on hiatus for a week," Diana said. "Look, I know life isn't literally a TV show... I'm not crazy, Ray."

"It seems like I've been hearing that a lot lately," Ray said.

"What?"

"Oh, this other girl I... I was seeing," Ray said. "At first, she just seemed a little bit quirky... but now she seems to be made out of issues."

"Trust me, whoever she is, she's just a bit part," Diana said. "As the story picks up, the focus'll stay on you and me, and she'll be left way behind."

"Yeah... somehow, I don't think it's going to work that way."

"Oh? Let me ask you this," Diana said. "You talked about her in the past tense. Did you break it off with her? Let her know things were over?"

"No, but..."

"But nothing," Diana said. "That's how you are. You just drift from one girl to the next... or they drift in and out of your life. Either way, it never matters in the long run, because they're just there for one episode of your life. But when we broke up, it was different... we had a huge fight. We screamed, we raged... we beat the holy hell out of each other."

"You don't think I've forgotten that?"

"No, but I don't know if you've grasped the meaning of it," Diana said. "We're significant. Those others... well, they just aren't."

"So, what, now you're saying you do want us to have some kind of a relationship?" Ray asked. "Before, you said you weren't interested in love."

"I'm not... or at least, not anymore. Love's just too complicated for an action-driven life. See, people like us don't get love interests," Diana said. "We get sex scenes... filthy, sweaty sex scenes. Once you understand that, you'll find it's actually kind of... liberating."

"Believe me, I don't need some TV show metaphor to understand that," Ray said. "But it's not supposed to be that easy."

"No? Think about it... who'd you end up with after me?"

"You know who," Ray said. "You introduced us."

"I know, but say it."

"Pam."

"Right, the illustrious Pam," Diana said with considerable distaste. "Much as I hate her, she fits the pattern too well to ignore it. She came onto the scene right before we split, providing you with a transitional relationship... then she switched teams before it could become too serious."

"And that's like a TV show, somehow?"

"When I get written out of your life, there's already a replacement waiting in the wings, but when she doesn't quite 'click', she gets written out, too, and you go back to girl-of-the-week one night stands until I reappear on the scene," Diana said.

"I've been called egotistical, but I don't think somebody else's sexual identity crisis exists solely for my convenience," Ray said.

"Well, I'm sure from her point of view, it really doesn't... from her point of view, you were there for hers," Diana said with a shrug. "You were there to give her something to feel conflicted about, or something. You see, it's all relative."

"You know, you're really opening my eyes," Ray said.

"Why don't I think you mean in the way I want to?"

"I've been with three different women the past three nights," Ray said. "Two crazy bitches--no offense intended--who act like fate has given them some kind of claim on me, and one who did nothing... except falling for me. Maybe it's not safe for me to love her back, but I owe her better than I've given her."

"You owe her nothing," Diana said insistently.

"I owe her an apology," Ray said.

"The bad boy never apologizes."

"I am not 'the bad boy'," Ray said hotly, getting to his feet. "I'm the good guy, or I'm supposed to be... and that means it's time for me to stop taking the path of least resistance and start doing right by people again."

"Funny, but it seems like I always have to steer you towards the 'path of least resistance'," Diana said. "You always seem to want to take the 'road less traveled'... which just goes to show once again that you are not the nice guy you want everybody to think you are."

"I'm not joking, Diana," Ray said. "If you ever honestly need my help with a case, I will be there for you... but not like this. Never again like this."

"I'm not going to argue," Diana said, watching him pull his pants on.

"Good."

"I'm not going to argue," she repeated, "because I don't have to. Say what you will... make a big scene... and then storm off. That's the way the story goes. We both know what happens next."

"You think? Well, I got news for you," Ray said. "You, and anybody else who might be watching... I'm officially going off script. I'm sick of people acting like they know my life better than I do, acting like they know my future. Well, the future's what you make of it... and from this minute forward, my future belongs to nobody but me. I'm doing things my way, for my own reasons... I'm through being manipulated."

She let him trudge away, listening to the sound of his angry breathing gradually recede as she lay there in the middle of the park, surrounded by her discarded clothes and two dead bodies. After a few minutes, an almost imperceptible sound caught her attention. She reached over and pulled her discarded pink jacket closer, then fished the buzzing cell phone out of her pocket. The LCD display showed the number 000-000-0000. She sighed and hit the talk button.

"Seven," she said. "Yes. Not that you're usually long on answers... and not that I don't enjoy fucking with my ex... in either sense of the word... but... can you tell me exactly how the fate of the free world depended on that?"