“Running on Empty”

May. 1989.
Los Angeles.

Shit is about to get real in the city of angels.

Martin Riggs is ready to rip a few rogue South Africans to shreds.

But first he’s gotta get gas. He and Roger still need to drive to Long Beach and that’s fucking far.

His truck roars to a stop beside one of the Texaco pumps. He’s out the door and into the store within seconds.

Jared’s working the cash register.

Jared. How’s it going?

Riggs. I’m out for revenge.

Jared. Fun.

Riggs. I’m not a cop tonight. Tonight, it’s personal.

Jared decides to play along.

Jared. Love it. “And I’m not a gas station cashier tonight!” What pump are you on?

Riggs. Nine.

Jared. How much?

Riggs. Huh?

Jared. How much gas do you want?

He uncurls a $20 from his jeans.

Riggs. Hurry up, mate. They fucked up, royally.

Jared. I believe you.

Riggs. My fiancé was murdered.

Jared. I’m so sorry. Had you been together long?

Riggs. Three days.

Jared. Like, 72 hours?

Riggs. Felt like longer.

Jared. You proposed to her that quick?

Riggs. She hadn’t accepted yet. I was going to ask her and she def. would have said “yes.” She loved my trailer parked on bricks and driftwood out at Zuma and I know she would’ve been happy there.

Jared. That is a lot to process.

Riggs. Yeah. That’s why it’s personal. That’s why I’m not a cop tonight.

Jared. You said that before. I didn’t realize that a cop was something you could turn on or off, y’know? If you’re not a cop tonight will you be one tomorrow? Is “tonight” just until midnight or does that include the hours before sunrise?

Riggs. What’s with the questions? Give me my gas and let me get out of here. Fuck you are fucking nosy -

Riggs strikes a match and lights a crumpled cigarette. He squints through the burning sulfur and tobacco to get a look at Jared’s name tag.

Riggs. - Jared. Let’s get this done VICTOR ZEBRA ALPHA.

Jared. What do you mean?

Riggs. It’s military talk. Means time to get shit moving.

Jared. You were in the military?

Riggs. Special Forces in Vietnam.

Jared. Thank you for your service.

Riggs. You’re welcome.

Jared. Must have been crazy over there.

Riggs. It was hardcore fun. We didn’t give a shit. We killed anything that moved. Sometimes we didn’t even ask what side they were on.

Jared. Should you be telling me this?

Riggs. I once killed a guy at a thousand yards.

Jared. How?

Riggs. Sniper rifle, idiot. If I was closer I could have killed him with my hands. Easy.

Riggs thrusts his two hands to within inches of Jared’s face.

Riggs. See these?

Jared. I do.

Riggs. Just two hands, right? Nothing fancy?

Jared. Is this a trick?

Riggs. Fooled you. These are my real tools. Deadlier than a gun. LAPD considers them -

Murtaugh. -lethal weapons.

Riggs and Jared are jolted by the interruption. Riggs doesn’t turn around. He knows that voice.

Riggs. Rog.

Murtaugh. Riggs.

Jared. You know this guy?

Murtaugh. We’re partners.

Riggs. Nothing you can say to stop me, Rog. Don’t bother        trying.

Jared. He’s really a cop?

Riggs. You think I was lying?

Jared. People come in talking tons of shit.

Murtaugh. He’s on the edge. A danger to himself and the public. But no one else I’d rather roll with. When I was in Vietnam I –

Jared. You were in Vietnam, too?

Murtaugh. Two years. Me and Huntsacker took care of each other. Now he’s dead and his daughter, too.

Jared. Right. I have no clue who you’re talking about.

Murtaugh. Riggs, you still here?

Riggs is standing off to the side checking his reflection in a tower of sunglasses. Murtaugh hugs him from behind. Smothering him with bear-like affection. He tenderly rests his chin on Riggs’ shoulder.

Riggs. Rog, I’m not a cop tonight. It’s personal.

Jared. There it is again.

Murtaugh. I know. Me neither.

Jared. Now both of you aren’t cops tonight?

Murtaugh. For diff’rent reasons. My daughter was in a commercial for rubbers. His girlfriend got murdered.

Jared. Hardly seems like the same thing.

Riggs shakes loose from Murtagh’s embrace.

Riggs. Fiancé. Rog, we were engaged.

Murtaugh. Wait. What? Tika and you were gonna get married?

Riggs. Her name was Kira. Kira.

Murtaugh. I don’t think so.

Riggs looks a bit uncertain.

Riggs. We were in love. That’s what I am sure of. Names meaning nothing.

Jared. Well, they’d be pretty important when you got a marriage license.

Riggs lunges at Jared over the counter. Jared scrambles back against the counter. Packs of cigarettes fall to the floor. Murtaugh restrains Riggs and pulls him back.

Murtaugh. Riggs! Seriously, I’m getting too old having to deal with the same stuff again and again. How many more times are we gonna go down this road? You’re a good cop, maybe the best I ever seen, ain’t that enough?

Riggs. I’m not a cop tonight. It’s personal.

Jared. I just can’t with this nonsense.

Murtaugh. Easy, buddy. We’re going. Nothing he needs more now that some home cooking. Say, Riggs, wanna see what Trish’s got going on the stove?

Riggs. What about the South Africans? And Long Beach?

Murtaugh. I need a full stomach for the night ahead. C’mon now, let’s be going.

Murtaugh takes his jacket off and places it over Riggs’ shoulders. Other customers – of which there are many after waiting for Riggs and Murtaugh to resolve their bullshit – make way for them.

Murtaugh. I’m getting too old for this shit.

Riggs. I’m not a cop tonight. It’s personal.

Murtaugh. I hear you.

Riggs. I’m not kidding. I’m really not a cop tonight. It’s personal.

Customer. What in the fuck was that?

Jared. They said they were cops. Which I doubt. I am pretty sure they have the worst concussions I’ve ever seen.

Jared and the customer watch as both Riggs and Murtaugh keep repeating their phrases to each other. Murtaugh sits on the hood of his car laughing to himself and slapping his own knee. Riggs is caught in a closed loop of his own misery.