Sam turned left, descending a flight of stairs to enter a basement. “Hopefully the elevator’s in service, otherwise this will be a heck of a climb.” After following a hallway across most of the extent of the building, Sam tapped the “up” button; a few moments later, the door opened, revealing a well-lit cabin, remarkably free of graffiti. Sam triumphantly pressed the button for the top floor, watching the door close.

“So…” Sam began. “Your date was certainly beautiful. I apologize if I did anything to screw it up.”

Richard pressed his hand to his forehead and winced. “You didn’t.”

Sam’s forehead wrinkled. “Is everything OK?”

“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” Richard shared.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. After all, she’s really pretty. I can see how that would make you nervous and insecure.”

Richard looked up, glaring fiercely, but before he could say anything, the bell chimed and the door opened. Sam walked outside and motioned Richard to follow him; he looked around nervously as he realized they were on the roof.

Sam took a few steps forward then suddenly stopped, gazing into the sky. “You see that?”

Richard followed his gaze. “See what?”

“Doesn’t the sky look brighter to you?”

Richard looked around. “The moon has probably risen a little since we started.”

Sam grimaced. “You really don’t see it?” Richard shrugged and waved his hands helplessly.

Sam snorted. “Fine. But I see it. And it means we’re on the right path.” He came up to the side of the building. “We have to parkour a little bit here. Are you up for it?”

Richard approached the edge of the roof and nervously peered down. The alley offered nothing but a deep, yawning shadow, no streetlights disturbing the murky depth. “Looks like it’s only about twelve feet,” Sam informed. “A running start should clear it with no problem!” He took a few steps back to prepare for his dash.

He noticed Richard blanching. “What’s wrong? It’s not that far, really. Granted, I do a lot more parkour than you, but trust me, this is no big deal. In any case, it’s absolutely necessary if we’re going to follow the path.”

Richard looked around the roof. “Isn’t there a step or something I can put against the wall?”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t want to do that. You want to hit the wall at full speed, put one leg up, then push away from the wall with both legs, without losing any forward momentum.” He looked around. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything you can use to practice first. You’ll just have to go for it!”

Sam noticed Richard’s expression hadn’t improved. “C’mon, man, I promise you! This is an easy jump!” Finally, he put his hands on his hips and glared. “Think of it this way…if you’re really the protagonist, then you can’t possibly die in the middle of the story. Hmmm? What do you think now?”

Richard tried to hold back his bitterness and disgust, but it flooded out of him like a ruptured above-ground backyard pool that hadn’t seen chlorine in weeks. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sam crouched quickly and ran from where he was, leaping the wall just as he had advised Richard to do, then pinwheeling his limbs as he flew across the chasm, tucking his legs at the last second, landing neatly on his feet and skidding to a halt as he rotated in a half circle, performing a perfect cutback on an invisible surfboard near a nonexistent wave in the imaginary ocean for which the desert sands served as the world’s biggest beach. “I know, I make this look easy,” he boomed. “But I do this a lot. Now do it just the way I did, and you’ll be fine!”

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Richard’s anger and humiliation bubbled to the top like a neglected stovetop coffee percolator. Without a word, he stomped a suitable distance away, turned, and sprinted toward the edge of the roof. His right leg ascended the short wall perfectly, his left leg caught the edge expertly, and pushing with all his strength, he hurled himself over the unforgiving crevasse, his limbs flailing like a windmill’s blades. In an instant, he realized something was wrong; he was falling too quickly to make it to the other side. As he reached the edge, he put out his arms and tried to catch the corner with his fingers. He collided with the wall with a heavy thud, and tried to wrap his body around the flat surface, holding on with everything he had. Fear shot through him like an errant javelin at a high school track meet as he felt his fingers slip. He scrambled to regain his grip, but it was no good; his hands clawed uselessly at empty air as he started to plummet. He saw Sam arrive at the edge and grab for Richard’s hands, but missed by inches; he had arrived too late. Richard watched Sam pull away from him as they matched glum looks.

Something hard and uneven impacted Richard’s feet, and his legs crumpled. He felt himself tumble sideways; he quickly put his arms over his head, to protect his neck. He felt himself do a full somersault, stopping abruptly against a steel railing, rattling him from top to bottom.

“Duuuude!” Sam yelled. Richard blinked; was he OK? Gingerly, he rose to his feet and shook himself, feeling for injuries. There were none, just some soreness. Groping in the darkness, he found the stairway to a fire escape; he ascended it, walked across a short platform, found a ladder, and ascended to the roof, finding a very relieved superhero. He grappled Richard in a bear hug.

“Oh my God…I thought I’d lost you! I would have never forgiven myself.” He set Richard down and looked at him. “You feel OK?”

Richard fought to regain the breath that had just been squeezed from him, and coughed. “I will be.” His legs folded up and he collapsed, sitting cross-legged on the roof. Sam joined him.

“I saw the whole thing,” he revealed. “I hadn’t accounted for you being shorter; that’s all on me. I should have told you to grab for the edge. I’m really sorry.”

Richard sat calmly, waiting for his heart to stop doing its Buddy Rich impression.

“On the other hand, that’s a point in your favor,” Sam conceded. “Maybe you really are the protagonist.”

Richard winced in pain. “Lucky me.”

“Also, it made me realize…I don’t even know your name. I had to yell ‘dude’. Not very respectful.”

“It’s Richard. Detective Richard Schmutz.”

Sam stifled a giggle; Richard glared at him. “What?!”

“Nothing! I’m sorry. It’s just…your name is literally⁠–”

“Smegma,” Richard finished. “I know. The kids in school never let me forget.”

“I can imagine. And my name is actually Sam, but my full name is Samson.” He flexed his arms and chest, his build impressive when fully unfolded. “Kinda fits, doesn’t it?”

“I couldn’t say,” Richard retorted. “I don’t swing that way.”

“Well, the ladies certainly like it.” He suddenly relaxed his pose and drooped. “Still, it’s not enough. It helps me to meet them, but not to hold on to them.” He looked wistful again. “I remember one beautiful gal I used to date…not as stunning as your redhead, but still, strikingly good looking. She’s an instructor at a gym where I work out. But I just couldn’t keep it together.” He stared off into space. “Good night, Toby Flibbit…wherever you are.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Sam looked confused. “I don’t know. I guess you have an honest face.”

Richard frowned. “I’ve been told I look more like a weasel.”

“Well,” Sam shrugged, “at least you look like an honest weasel.”

Richard growled. “Can’t you see her at the gym any time?”

“That’s beside the point!” Sam stood up. “C’mon, how much longer do you need to recover? I thought you enjoyed your life of danger!”

Richard slowly rose. “I have mixed feelings about it.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “OK, let’s keep moving.”

Sam smiled. “You’ll like this next part.”