A very short story.
What is monologuing anyway
They stared at each other, panting heavily from the fight so far. Both were battered and bruised, blood oozing from countless injuries. There was one who was faring better, however.
The villain.
Aside from the sound of wet static emanating from a smashed fire hydrant, a hush had come over the place. The innocent bystanders who had been drawn into the conflict, unable to escape for the chaos affected the whole area, stood in awkward silence trying to decide if it were safer to leave or safer to stay.
The villain stood up and assessed his failing opponent: our hero, the city’s hero. Shifting his gaze over the crowd, he turned slowly, completing a full circle before facing the hero once again.
He took two steps forward and leaned closer.
“You see,” he started, “the difference between you and me is perspective. These people all around us, they don’t -“
He stopped talking, surprised, and a red splotch grew quickly over his left breast. There was a brief moment of confusion on his face before crumpling awkwardly to the side.
“Why do they love to monologue? Always with the monologues. Ridiculous…”
The hero put his boser pistol down and looked around the crowd. “Could I trouble someone to help me up? I’d love to go to the pub and get a beer.”