The Rise and Fall and Rise of Lightning Boy.

I. 

Who is Harley Walker? 

Over ten years ago, he would've gasped - possibly even vomited - over a question like that.

"I'm Lightning Boy, for Christ's sake. Those greasy, money-hungry Hollywood slugs that show up at the top of the cast lists? The ones that stand in front of a mirror and repeat the same lines over and over and over again? The ones who got to the top because they've got themselves a good set'a teeth, a hairline that won't recede, and enough money in the bank to buy a third world country?" 

They wouldn't be considered the action stars that they are if it wasn't for a guy like Harley Walker.

He did the dirty work.

When Donovon Colby, millionaire A-lister, took on the lead role in the 2003 war-classic, "Bombs Away", do you think it was him that was dangling from the underbelly of a Blackhawk at nearly 20,000 feet above the Californian desert?

Of course not. It was Harley - and there's plenty of reasons behind that, not excluding the fact that it was, in fact, his job. Beyond that? Harley had balls the size of planets. Paul Bunyonesque. Both of them. To him, death was just another part of the story of life - and he played to death the way that he played to living - as unpredictable and spontaneous as possible.

When Ronny Atkins, another coke-addled silver screen prince, was asked if he would play a crucial scene in his blockbuster hit, "The Get'em Boys", where his speeding Lamborghini Gallardo would have its tires shot out by pissed-off police officers and then barrel-roll a dozen times before crash landing into the front of a produce market, do you think he nodded with a smile and signed his name on the dotted line?

Hell no. In fact, he laid out the director of that movie with one remarkably swift slap.

He even threatened to abandon the entire production because, as he put it, he "didn't do those kinds of things". 

Mind you, this was a multi-multi-multi, so many multi, million-dollar movie that was in the midst of filming and at the risk of losing their moneymaker.

This just could not happen, no matter the circumstances, so what did happen?

Harley Walker, is what happened.

Because saying no isn't something that he's ever figured out.

Scratch that - it's just boring to him. You only say no to the things that something inside of you says that you have no need to experience - to Harley, you really only have one life to live. If he didn't make every effort to experience as many things as he could before the game was over, he'd feel like he cheated himself out of opportunity. When Miles Lang, his agent and the only true "friend" he's ever had, approached him with this opportunity, Harley said three simple words:

"Make it happen."

In return for committing to the role, Harley was rewarded with a stiff concussion and a couple of broken wrists.

There was also a paycheck - a decent one too - but it was never about the money to Harley like it was to the big movie stars that couldn't risk putting their body, their image, in the line of any sort of potential harm. It was about the experience, and part of that experience would be accepting many bumps, bruises, and scars to reflect upon as time does its unforgiveable, relentless thing.

Then... something happened.

II. 

[Phone trilling.]

Suddenly, the well started to go dry - at least for Hollywood stuntmen.

There wasn't one particular reason for this, but most of the blame was directed at two things.

Marky Mack and technology - and yes, they go together. Marky was one of the first to raise the question of whether or not it was ethically wise to put any human, regardless of whether it's their profession or not, in such great heights of danger when most, if not all, could be digitally manifested with the same impact if not greater. This seemed completely absurd to everyone at first - until his $400 million dollar budgeted Gargantuan hit the screens.

It was every bit of the action that Harley has ever been involved in - without the dangers.

And it royally fucked Harley's momentum.

Myles Lang: "Yes Harley..."

Harley Walker: "Don't you 'yes Harley' me. I've been trying to reach you for two weeks, Mylo. Two damn weeks."

Myles Lang: "Alright, first of all, calm down..."

Harley Walker: "Don't, Mylo..."

[A pregnant pause.]

[We see our boy, Harley Walker, sitting on the edge of an unmade bed. He's staring down at his Motorola brick with a Marlboro Red clipped between his cracked lips. Other than the small ray of morning light stretching its legs through the broken-off sections of the windowblinds, the space that Harley was confined in was just as dark and cold as his mood was.]

Myles Lang: "Just... just listen, okay?"

[We see our agent. He's sitting on the edge of a hot tub with a towel covering his bald head from the sun. There's no telling where he is, but the surroundings speak words such as Caribbean, resort, and scumbag. In this case, Mylo is our scumbag unfortunately. You'll kind of understand why that is in a little bit.]

Harley Walker: "Okay? Go."

Myles Lang: "You need to take a breath and understand what's going on here, Harley. There's blood all over the floor and look..."

[Like, right here, when he looks over at the barely dressed ladyfriend that's already inside of the hot tub and uses body language to get her to toss a grape in his mouth. She does exactly that. It lands in his mouth impressively, and he follows that up with a really creepy wink.]

Harley Walker: "What? Look what, Mylo?"

Myles Lang: "Wait, what? Look at what?"

Harley Walker: "You said 'the blood is on the floor', whatever that means, and then said, 'look..."

Myles Lang: "I'm saying that everyone is, you know, going through this shit. It's just an industry phase."

Harley Walker: "An industry phase?"

[Silence. Distractions.]

Harley Walker: "MYLES!" 

Myles Lang: "Look buddy, I am doing absolutely everything I can - but everyone is just becoming more technologically sound out there and much quicker than anyone could've anticipated. People just aren't looking for daredevils."

Harley Walker: "What about..."

[Myles cuts him off while he pulls the towel away from his head and starts to dip his toes into the tub.]

Myles Lang: "You're gonna ask me if I reached out to Donovon Colby again, aren't you?"

[Harley walks over to his window blinds to take account of the damage that he'll never repair, and then glances outside at his Husqvarna Vitpilen 401. His motorcycle. His pride and joy. He calls her Prudence, named after his one and only child - whom tragically passed away before she even learned how to walk. Because of that, he was loyal to that motorcycle. It was the only way that he traveled anywhere and would ultimately be the bike that he performed some of his most death-defying stunts with to date.]

Myles Lang: "Your silence proves me right, and I'll tell you what you don't want to hear. He doesn't like you."

[This snaps Harley out of it, as he's baffled by what he just heard.]

Harley Walker: "What did I ever do to him?"

Myles Lang: "Well, there was that one time that he invited you to a party at his mansion. You remember the one that Mayor Matthews, his bride-to-be, and her two teenaged children also attended? I had a car come get you because you were already about a bottle in..."

Harley Walker: "What's wrong with a drink or two?"

[Myles disregards the question and continues, now waist-deep in the hot tub with a bundle of grapes in his hand.]

 Myles Lang: "And then you spiked the punch bowl because you were confused why there wasn't any alcohol in it?"

Harley Walker: "...So?"

Myles Lang: "The children drank it. You don't recall this?"

[Harley finally pulls the cigarette away from his lips and lights it. He takes a glance at his home and, for a second, finds it hard to believe that this has become his reality. For the type of money that Harley had realistically made at this point in his career, he had a comfortable-enough looking house to show for that - but his lifestyle didn't signify money; and now, with absolutely no income coming in because nobody wants to hire him, that comfortable-enough feeling didn't feel very "comfortable-enough" anymore.]

[If you recall, it was mentioned that Harley had massive testicular fortitude. But, at least for a few seconds, he felt afraid.]

Harley Walker: "Okay, okay. Forget about Donovan, alright? Jesus Christ. I've worked with a ton of guys in this business. Where are they all, Myles? Do I have to get another agent? Is that..." [Harley slaps a half-filled beer-can off the bar-counter connected to his kitchen, which ricochets with a thud against his stained refrigerator door. "Is that what has to happen for something to happen? Where the hell are you anyways?"

[Myles rolls his eyes again and tosses a couple of grapes into his mouth.]

Myles Lang: "They are all gone, Harley. The phone calls and emails aren't being returned because they aren't interested and because of that, my dear friend, I don't have the answers that you're looking for... right now. Secondly, whether you think so or not, you need me - and I need you."

[Harley lets out a deep breath, resigning back to the edge of his bed.]

Myles Lang: "Whether you think so or not, Harley, I have your best interests in mind. I know you just want to get back in the game, I know that. Just... give me some more time to figure this out. The fact is, we may never see a curve here. It may never come back to us, and that means that we may have to take a different course of action."

[Through his hands, Harley's curiosity inquires.]

Harley Walker: "I just need to make some money, Myles. I need to make money fast."

[Myles starts to tickle the ladyfriend's feet, and she giggles.]

Harley Walker: "Who's that?"

[Myles lightly shoves her away.]

Myles Lang: "If you're open minded, there's money to be made."

[Harley pulls his face away from his hands, and looks down at the phone.]

Harley Walker: "How much money?"

[There goes Myles again, with one of those terrifying smiles that speaks far more volumes than it should.]

Myles Lang: "Hand over fist. You... and me, of course. Just how it's always been, right Lightning Boy?"

Harley Walker: "Where are you, Myles?"

Myles Lang: "The Bahamas. Boring business stuff."

Harley Walker: "Why do I hear... is that water?"

Myles Lang: "A hot tub, yes. It's water."

Harley Walker: "You're kidding me, right? I am sitting here wondering if I am going to have a house in the next six goddamn months, and you're sitting in a hot tub?"

[Myles pulls the ladyfriend back over to him.]

Myles Lang: "I just got into it. Listen, I've got some ideas. Sit tight or go to Lucy's and get a couple of drinks. I am home tomorrow. Until then, just reeeeelax, Lightning."

Harley Walker: "Why the hell do you keep calling me that? Lightning Boy? What is that?"

Myles Lang: "Hah, you'll see."

[Click.]

III. 

Present Day 

Hollywood was dead - at least for Harley Walker.

Nobody wanted to brand him anymore, and it didn't really matter why at this point. The facts are the facts and there's nothing that you can do to evade that. Myles recognized this much quicker than Harley and knew that he would eventually have to figure out a new way to siphon money out of his client. On that airplane trip back home from the Bahamas, Myles slept like a baby. He already had a plan in mind, and keeping Harley in his isolated state of misery would only make him more desperately willing to move along with it, without too much turbulence of course.

In that ticking mind of his, there was only one thing to do if nobody was willing to brand him.

And that was to make him the brand itself.

And thus, Harley became Lightning Boy - a traveling stuntman who would visit the finest corners of 'Murica and perform dazzling stunts and life-threatening feats! 

Jumping leaps and bounds!

High in the sky!

It's bigger than a bird, better than an airplane - it's Lightning Boy! 

Live Oak Fairgrounds - Waco, Texas (Live Oak County) 

As you'd come to expect, Harley went along with his dear agent's plan.

What desperate man wouldn't? Most especially, if the trail was supposedly littered with dollar bills.

Supposedly, being the word.

Unfortunately, Myles's plan saw Harley find steady work again - but it wasn't the type of work that he'd ever envisioned doing.

[Harley sits at a bar, fully dressed down the way that he wanted to be. His red, white, and blue flak jacket with "Lightning Boy" in glittery gold stitched to the back of it, a pair of faded Wrangler jeans, and the same pair of dusty Farragamo boots that he's had for more years than it's worth counting. He's got a plate with half of an egg salad sandwich and four cigarette butts on it and, of course, his fifth Whiskey Sour gripped around his hand.]

[Behind him, a voice comes over the loudspeaker.]

"A big thank you to all of our guests today. We hope you've enjoyed yourselves and hope that you do stay for our signature finale - The Lightning Boy versus The Cage!"

[Harley let out a deep sigh and took another gulp of his whiskey. When Myles had mentioned doing something alternatively to prevent complete career collapse, turning virtually into a circus act was not what he had in mind. For as big as Harley's balls were though, Myles was still able to secure them tightly in his hands. He had strategically pushed Harley into a position until there was no other recourse but to relocate and reinvent.]

[But this was, in fact, a circus stunt. It involved Harley getting locked inside of a massive, spherical cage. The concept was absolutely insane, and involved Harley getting up to top speed to where he could ride the side walls. Once at that momentum, the fairground showhands would borrow animals from the local zoo that was directly adjacent to the fairgrounds - almost exclusively either elderly tigers or lions - and then trap them in the cage with Harley. It was then Harley's job to evade them with speed and elusive movement - or get eaten, basically.]

[Harley had stepped into that cage 99 times. Without a single flaw. Without a single hesitation.]

[Because he had the balls to do it, but also because he had to do it.]

Bartender: "Need another one, boss?"

[Harley lifts his glass up and nods.]

Harley Walker: "100 times, Pedro. 100 times I've been in that fucking ball."

Pedro The Bartender: "Quite an achievement, sir. We're happy to have you."

"Ah..." [Harley slams his glass on the table, somewhat intoxicated.]

Harley Walker: "Is it?" [Harley giggles, taking a final sip before pushing the glass towards Pedro.] "What's it matter anyway? I'm miserable. The scumbag A-listers got the best of me, then technology started to shit on my shit, and it was all money, money, money, you know? Where's my money? WHERE'S MY MONEY, PEDRO?" 

[The outburst gets the attention of a few of the fairground attendees, and especially Pedro who takes a step away out of shock.]

[Harley tries to retrace his step.]

Harley Walker: "It isn't your fault. I don't even know if your name is Pedro."

Bartender: "It's Phillip, sir."

Harley Walker: "Pretty close. Anyway, let's get one more drink in and then it'll be about showtime with the cage and all that stuff. I'm gonna go out there and do things my way tonight. I deserve that after 100 times..."

Pedro Phillip The Bartender nods with a smile and slides his drink towards him.

Phillip The Bartender: "You know, my father once told me that misery loves company. Sometimes, you gotta move on from the misery to, you know, find your happiness?"

[Phone Trilling.]

Harley Walker: "My father's dead. Hang on, this stupid... thing... is ringing... hello?"

Myles Lang: "Harley, my boy! How we doing?"

Harley Walker: "I am doing just as well as... why do you care? I'm here, at the fairgrounds just havin' a blast.

[Harley's sarcasm is thick as a brick.]

Myles Lang: "Again with the negative nancy bullshit? You've got a job. When are you going to realize that we are simply moving with the times, pal? This isn't 2005, and you have secure work. But what do you wanna do, Harley? You tell me. What do you wanna do if this isn't enough? McDonald's? Janitor?"

[Harley can feel the blood inside of him start to boil. His heart starts to beat a little bit faster and the alcohol starts to become an afterthought.]

Harley Walker: "I just want to be happy."

Myles Lang: "You're making people happy. That isn't enough? I was there yesterday, and the kids? They loved you, especially that clown suit that I had you wear."

Harley Walker: "Myles, no."

Myles Lang: "Oh come on, Harley. Wear the suit. It'll be fun - for the kids."

Harley Walker: "For the - what? I'm out here for the kids, you son of a bitch."

[Harley gets up from the bar and recognizes he's far more inebriated than he initially thought, which forces him to grab ahold of the stool he was sitting on while barely holding onto his cell phone.]

Myles Lang: "Then go be happy, Harley. Go for it. I'll hang up so you can go on your adventure to find happiness."

[Harley doesn't say anything.]

Myles Lang: "Lest we forget that you signed a contract - and so did I - because you agreed to this, Harley. You told me that you would keep an open mind."

[And then, Harley's balls finally decided to show up. He swallowed back the vomit that was lingering in his throat, stood back up, and paused to look at his surroundings. The feelings - they were the same as the feelings that rushed over him when he was staring at the chaos of his Hollywood home. Dropping his hands to his side, he leaves Myles hanging on the other line as he wanders through the countless stalls, bumping shoulders with people excitedly recognizing him.]

"Hey, it's Lightning Boy!" 

"Lightning Boy, can I get a picture?!" 

"Hey honey look, it's the asshole that dressed up as a clown and drove his motorcycle inside of a metal bubble!" 

[He moved past all of the noise, all of the chaos - far and away from everything that everyone else wanted, because he wanted one thing.]

[Prudence, and she was parked in plain sight right at the entrance fence of the fairgrounds. As he stares his beautiful motorcycle, he slowly lifts the phone back to his ear.]

Harley Walker: "I think I've spent enough time looking behind."

Myles Lang: "What does that even mean, pal?"

[Harley continues to walk towards his motorcycle.]

Harley Walker: "I've got an open mind now."

Myles Lang: "Good, so go ahead and---"

[Harley disconnects the call, and then tosses the phone in a trash can that he passes by before saddling on and driving off into the sunset.]

[Fade.]

________________

Life - it's like one big, blank page of paper at first. 

It seems almost impossible to fill that son of a bitch, but you do - and the grand scheme of things, son, it don't take very long for that to happen. 

When my page filled up, I resigned to the idea of simply staying in one lane, minding my own damn business, and fading out into the sunset. 

It didn't seem feasible to do anything, be anything different - to start from square one with a blank page - so I just kept scribbling over what was already there. 

Scribbling until everything that seemed worthwhile at the time blurred into nothing but perpetual chaos. 

You see, Paxton, I had to realize real quick like that it wasn't me doing all that damn scribbling. It was everyone around me - it was MYLES, it was the actors, the production directors, writing their own legacies into my page. It was all of these hands that wanted to find their way into my cookie jar, and I let them because eventually, that was the easy route. 

I'm tired of the easy route. 

And I'm tired of this messy ass page of paper. 

It's prime time for a new one, and I've got just the name to get things started. 

But don't worry, Paxton. I'd never deny your abilities, son. In fact? I can almost guarantee you've got a few more scribbles on this page than I do. 

The real question though... and is will you be able to handle mine? 

It's time for a new experience - make it happen.