The usual disclaimers apply. Inspired by the Dream Theater song "The Silent Man," from the 1994 album Awake. R&R if you feel so inclined (reviews appreciated).
The Quickening finished with a final jolt of electric energy, blowing out the one remaining lamp on the now-dark street. In the blackness, the immortal dropped his sword and collapsed to the ground. So complete was his exhaustion that he barely felt the pavement that bruised his knees as he fell. But then, he thought vaguely, the bruises would be gone within minutes anyway, so in the end, it wouldn't even matter. All that would matter would be that he had won, that his opponent had lost, and that he could go on living his quiet life.
As always.
Quiet because it had to be; quiet because he needed it to be. Silent, one might almost say. Living under an assumed name, in an assumed pretense, in an assumed world... The trick was not to get too close to anyone. Exchange your hellos, babble your small talk, bid your farewells, and continue on your way. With every additional moment spent, the risk grew and the stakes got higher. There are only so many masks to uncover before the truth is revealed, he told himself.
Even so, he worried sometimes. He worried that while such a life kept him physically alive, what was it doing to him in other aspects? He had learned, centuries ago on a deserted island, that one of the necessary parts of human existence was interaction with other humans. By living as he did, was it possible that he was, in reality, slowly and willfully killing himself?
And what happened to those who tried to get close to him, the ones he would immediately put up walls against?
Later that night, when he returned to the place he called home, he would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. He would quietly wait for sleep, he knew; but sleep would never come, and he would be left, as always, awake. Wide awake in the darkness, with no rhyme or reason to tell him why. No answers to questions he couldn't ask.
Questions he didn't know.
He wondered what kind of god would create a world where life was one giant Game, a never-ending tournament with only one possible outcome. Yes, the Greek gods would toy with mortals, but they usually put things right when they were finished with their sport. But this... this went well beyond the realm of playful sport and entered into that of deadly competition. Fighting for your life. For the right simply to exist.
There was no escape. He had tried once, succeeded, even, for a little while; but in the end, they found him. They always did. It didn't matter if you were a newborn or a legend. They came anyway, in droves, looking for a fight and hoping for a head.
Power. They wanted power.
He, however, was not after that power. He never had been, not even during the times from his past that he tried not to think about. Every time he took a head, it was because of something else. Self-preservation. Vengeance, sometimes. But never power. He had seen that all-consuming force destroy civilizations, and he had no desire to become one of its victims.
He suddenly felt dampness on his face and realized that it had started to rain. He reached out a hand in the darkness, his fingers closing upon cold steel. This was his life, whether he wanted it to be or not. There was no choice; choice was a luxury none of them had: not himself, not his past students, not the headless immortal lying several feet away. None of them were ever given a say in the matter at all.
In this world, it was sink or swim. All he wanted was to stay afloat.
And so he rose from his knees and felt cold water run down the back of his neck. He rose to continue onward. He rose to face his past, his present, and his future.
He rose.
The Silent Man.
A question well served
Is silence like a fever?
A voice never heard?
Or a message with no receiver?
Pray they won't ask
Behind the stained glass
There's always one more mask
Has man been a victim
Of his woman, of his father?
If he elects not to bother,
Will he suffocate their faith?
Desperate to fall
Behind the Great Wall
That separates us all
When there is reason
Tonight I'm Awake
When there's no answer
Arrive the Silent Man
If there is balance
Tonight he's Awake
If they have to suffer
There lies the Silent Man
Sin without deceivers
A God with no believers
I could sail by
On the Winds of Silence
And maybe they won't notice
But this time I think
It'd be better if I swim
When there is reason
Tonight I'm Awake
When there's no answer
Arrive the Silent Man
If there is balance
Tonight he's Awake
But if they have to suffer
There lies the Silent Man
--Dream Theater, "The Silent Man"