Post by TactilizingOne on Aug 29, 2022 22:59:03 GMT -5
Sitting on my rooftop space in my building is typically a recreational pleasure I indulge in to settle myself. Tonight, it’s been more about finding a common space that my wife and I finding equally comfortable, so we could talk. I mean, where better to hash out one’s troubles than sitting at a table, two glasses of Cabernet, filled appropriately, with a view overlooking Central Park. It was a scene befitting royalty. Why, then, does tonight feel more as if I’m a man on trial?
I wore a powder blue suit with golden cufflinks for the in-home dinner, which we took bites of over the course of the past twenty minutes, while making conversation and allowing us to settle into our positions. However, it was time that we addressed the elephant in the room. I look over at Cindy, sitting in a sleeveless, satin green dress that extends down her legs and has cutouts at the hips. I imagine she consulted on what fashion trends were on the rise, but cutouts? You never know what will hit, I guess. She accessorized with a silver necklace and bangle on one wrist. I considered as I took a sip from my wine glass. When Cindy finishes answering a text message and sets her phone on the table, I give her a grin that wipes away any style questions.
“I really think you should have brought the kids, rather than having them stay another night in Long Island. Logan will be bored to tears with those stuffy relatives,” I begin shaking my head on reflex and stop before my disdain rears itself too far.
“Those ‘stuffy’ relatives are my parents,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes. “Logan will be just fine, considering he needs to catch up on summer reading,” she tilts her glass towards me, as if she’s impressing her concern further. She pulls it back and swirls it a bit. “If you had it your way, we would be here waiting for you to make it back from Texas, in who knows what condition,” she takes a sip while raising an eyebrow at me. If I didn’t know her to be straightforward, I’d think he was baiting me. I leaned back and considered my own glass for a moment.
“I assure you, I have no intention of having that happen again, Cindy,” I used her name as opposed to ‘babe’ or another airy name, so she understood I was serious. I looked back up, not taking a sip of my own. “Do you know who my opponent is for the Power title?”
“As a matter of fact, I do know. Sloane Taylor,” Cindy put her glass down on the table, clasping her hands together. “She happens to be a well established wrestlers out of Chicago. More recently, she held the title of Disavowed Champion, over in PWV, which also isn’t exactly a title that showcases wrestling. She’s tough and she’s tied to Sebastian Everett-Bryce, who I remember you aren’t on… friendly terms with,” she so grossly understated. Maybe she was prodding me just a bit. “I think you’re going to have your hands full.”
“You know, if I didn’t know any better I would think you were a little too pleased with my opponent. You really think I’m not going to be prepared?” I take a sip from the glass, the fruit notes cutting the acidity of the red. My mouth edged on a frown as I contemplated whether my own wife would really wish me to lose my title. The best I could resist was to hold my lips in a thin line. “I know you aren’t a fan of the jungle I’ve landed in, as far as the Power division. However, I’d caution you that, should I lose this belt? It will only necessitate an even more grueling path,” I point to myself, “Because I’m not stopping until the Game Changers and I are in the place we deserve to be, at the top of Level Up and all of its inhabitants – whether or not they deserve to have us at the helm, bringing glory and notoriety to a company whose head deserves to have his bell rung,” I snort, feeling something stuck in my nose. It’s truly irksome, when your body works to shield you from germs and the like, but has no way of expelling it other than blowing a snot rocket.
As I try to inhale, something fouls up and I end up blowing said snot rocket on the exhale, without even touching my nose. I rub the pesky appendage with my thumb back and forth, as Cindy gives me a nonplussed look.
“I leave you alone here for a couple weeks, and you’ve regressed to a teenager,” she regarded me with a waving hand.
I scoffed, “No, I’m comfortable with you. After all these years, you’ve seen me do far worse,” I make sure to add, but she only rolled her eyes again. “Look, you chose to take off, and the only reason I’m not more worried is because I trust this little bout of trepidation you have for my well-being will give way to your overriding common sense for me. I won’t lose this match at Combat Evolved, and in fact, I’ll show you this match is the gateway to exactly what I said: The point when I trade in the Power title for a shot at the Final Boss title,” I give a smug smirk, taking a sip of Cabernet and swishing it a bit in my mouth.
Cindy looked unimpressed, crossing her arms. “How is it you’ve reached the point of stubbornness where you don’t even realize the true risks in play here,” she questioned, her tone a bit more accusatory than earlier. “I don’t need you to be the Final Boss. Do you need to be the Final Boss? What’s in it for you?”
“Babe, don’t get it twisted. I don’t need to be Final Boss, but Level Up absolutely needs Larry Tact as its Final Boss. That title desperately needs to be saved from the endless loop its been in, carried by wrestlers who are content to hold it, but not really sure what to do with it. That drives me to work through each match holding my title,” I hold up a hand before she can interject. “Granted, it’s no walk in the park defending the Power Championship, but it shows more than any other title in that company, the grit of someone who is capable of taking the mantle of Final Boss. That’s how that… current champion got it,” I did my best to hold back any contempt, but I could tell how close I was to slipping off my tongue. I swallowed and allowed my fury for the present Final Boss to recede.
“Guess what, though,” my wife regarded me with some exasperation, “I need you to be well enough and capable of taking care of our family, and seeing our children grow up, Larry. It’s time you snapped out of it and understood that, Sloane? She’s as hungry for that opportunity as you are, and from what I hear, she has a side that isn’t so sweet and compassionate as what people are accustomed to seeing. It’s a side that throws away rational consideration. She has the credentials to back up her ferocity, and if you think I’m saying this because I don’t want you to succeed, that isn’t it,” she leaned forward, uncrossing her arms and without spilling even a single drop from her glass, which she sets on the table. “I need my husband to realize how far down the rabbit hole he’s gone. Even if you do beat Sloane, then what? You still have hurdles on the way to getting a chance to face the Final Boss, right? This isn’t really the end? Be honest with me and yourself, and admit there’s still plenty to do,” she demanded, jabbing her finger on the table with each point.
I returned my face to a deadpan as she spoke, a stone her words could make scratches upon, but not deal any significant damage to. I held like that for several seconds after she spoke, not allowing Cindy to see which way I would go until the moment I felt like proceeding. I shrugged and raised my glass, “If you want to keep peppering me with questions, fine. You’re only showing this is more about how you want to play this, and how you feel, than anything to do with the kids. You’re afraid of seeing me, yes, take some risks – but ultimately, your fear of what happens when I succeed?” I allow myself to affirm my point with a nod. “Well, guess what, love? You’re going to have to – gasp – trust me when I say, I’m not trying to plan the entire future. If I’ve learned anything about Level Up, it’s that curveballs and unfriendly fire are incoming all the time, and I’ve been able to roll with it and squeeze every bit of power from the belt – no pun intended. At this point, it’s being raised to a new level each time I defend it because I’m the one who doesn’t look past each checkpoint, or try to leap to the top all in one launch. You know I’m not going to allow anyone to try and take this title without giving them–“
“That’s the point!!” Cindy exclaims, and I can feel the wave of agitation from her vexed heart. Involuntarily, I press back against my chair a little at the outburst as he continues, “Yes! I know, Larry. I know you won’t allow anyone to take your title without putting them through hell, and leaving them with a much less promising tomorrow than when they entered. Here’s the thing: What happens if they don’t stay down from it?” she pops up from her seat, leaning in as she stabs me with her stare. You talk about how, eventually, you’ll always run into someone who seems to have ‘it.’ Bringing a fight that won’t be stopped. What if Sloane is that fight? You lost to her once already.”
I seethed inside at the mention of Sloane’s prior victory, but tamp down the urge to tell Cindy she was partly responsible, stirring up all this nonsense. Instead, I pinch my nose briefly and look at her. “Yes, I understand, but that’s nothing more than a loser’s mentality. Cin, you of all people should know I’ll be the fight that is too big for Sloane, and for good reason.” I feel my breathing become more rapid, my wife’s doubt a tiresome refrain of late. I can’t help the rising emotion to raise my voice, “Beating me twice in a row?? That happens rarely and it’ll be over my dead body!”
The next thing I know, a shower of wine comes splattering over my face and shirt – a crimson mask of a different sort, and no less inciting. Cindy came right up to me to be certain I took the splash to the face, but I don’t realize her grabbing my left hand until after she’s already wrenching on my finger. “Hey! What the hell is this?!” I scowl in protest, and then pull my hand off hers. She takes a couple steps back and holds her hand up. Trapped between her thumb and forefinger is my wedding band. For whatever reason, I look back down at my hand, somehow expecting this is a joke and my ring is still on the finger. It's not, and Cindy looks at me with disgust.
“You want to be a wrestler?! Be a wrestler! Put yourself in harm’s way until you shatter! But as a husband, you don’t deserve to wear this!” Plunder in hand, she turns and glides away in her pumps, in stride as ever with her head held up. She doesn’t look back and I realize my mouth is slightly agape. The sound of her choking back tears snaps me out of it, but the damage was already done. I allowed my preternatural drive to defend what’s mine take the wheel, and it was clearly not the right all. I shout after her, “This is for Logan, too! You’ll realize someday,” as she grabs her clutch from the cocktail table set up near a sofa. It’s a more common one than the custom glass blown table I needed to have replaced in our home. At least she didn’t smash this one on her way out.
Inevitably, the door slams shut and she heads to the elevator to head back to our children. There’s no point chasing her. In fact, that’s not even it. I remain confident she’ll come around, and return. Until then? She only serves as another distraction from what I need to be focusing on. I can’t allow any distractions, even if it means I’m taking another calculated risk. The choice made, I turn and fume while looking at the landscape of Central Park, what should be a beauteous sight dotted by artificial fairies lighting the way. “I’m finishing my legacy,” I whisper, “I’m leaving Logan, and Morgan, and you… a life’s work to be proud of me for. A defining record of the life I breathed into this industry, even as it tried to strike me down. You’ll see… everyone will know the name ‘Tact’ as enduring, evolving, and everlasting.”
Every few years, I have the walls of each floors of Tact Enterprises repainted. It’s a way of refreshing people’s experience here, a cue to remind them to tackle each day as new, rather than allowing oneself to be bogged down by a rough patch. It’s at these times when the environment is tweaked, that we can discover something new through self-assessment and evaluation. People can always better themselves, and this is a good way of recommitting to that ideal.
It's with this in mind that I survey the purple walls that replaced the red ones in the hallways of the executive floor. I had sales receive orange, digital production take green, and our advertising team got red. Purple was a good color these days, favorable for a number of reasons: It was representative of balance, but also earnestness. A steady leader should possess such qualities, too, after all.
My walk around the floor brings me to the destination of the executive board room, which has also been repainted in purple. I look to my assistant, Tiffany, asking, “Did Mr. Calvin arrive? I had a review scheduled with him for Evergreen.”
“He called, and is on the way, but stuck in traffic coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel,” Tiffany replied dryly, ever the picture of apathetic youth.
“Could you find it in you to at least sound interested?” I provide a not-so-subtle reminder that she took this job offer for a reason.
“I promise I’ve got my head in the game, Mr. Tact,” she continued mirthlessly, “But I just want to get through this day so I can go to the Mets game with my dad.”
“I’ll never fault you for wanting to take in a game with your dad,” I find myself pleased to hear her plans, yet baffled she doesn’t sound excited for any part of her day.
“Yeah, I mean it’s his idea, but I guess I’ll go since they’re good this year,” she typed a few notes in her tablet. “Anything else for now?”
“No, but let Mr. Calvin know I’m in the board room when he calls up. While you’re waiting, please find something that will bring you some joy,” I remark, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, bet,” Tiffany droned sarcastically, “I can feel there’s a press release waiting for me to make a real thrill. See ya later,” she waves at me, flashing a clearly forced smile, while walking away.
I don’t know exactly how to take that, other than the usual: “Kids.” Opening the door, I step inside the board room…
Only to find my brother, Lazarus, sitting in the otherwise empty conference space. My eyes settle on the solid purple suit, blue patterned tie, and black shoes polished to glinting. His locks of blonde hair are tucked under the fedora on his head, and he looks up from his phone as he sees me enter. “Aha, very good. Look who’s all grown up,” he chides and I feel a surge of happiness mixed with a tinge of melancholy.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I rejoice as we embrace, a snug tieup if there ever was one. “I can’t believe this, after all this time we’re finally in a room together. Laz, I can’t even explain this,” I say, looking at my brother and feeling the dopamine course through my system at this delightful surprise.
“Were you thinking this day would never come to pass? For shame, Larry. I merely needed to know all of my dealings are being handled back in… my land. I wanted to have time to catch up, of course,” Lazarus replied.
After we got to talking, it felt like we were still so familiar with each other. At the same time, something was entirely unfamiliar. This was, after all, a kid who had gone through his developmental years of growing up apart from me. “Laz,” I said, laying a hand on the table. “This is such an outstanding surprise, but, I have to say I wish we had more time to talk. I do have a meeting I’m waiting for, if my assistant didn’t tell you,” I noted, and my brother tilted his head.
“Alas, I too wish this was purely a social call, but there is something I had meant to discuss,” Laz admits. “I’ve been trying to keep up with your recent bookings in the ring. It seems you’ve been as diligently relentless as usual,” he observed, and it made me think back to my argument with Cindy.
“I hope you aren’t here to tell me how much I can handle. That’s a discussion is fraught with opinions,” I cautioned.
“No, if anything I’m overwrought with anticipation for your upcoming title defense, which I’ve heard about through the grapevine,” he waved off my concern. “It’s more the burgeoning challenges I’ve heard cropping up at home. It seems you’ve become a well-covered figure after my sister-in-law chimed in with whatever her thoughts were. I’m certainly not here to criticize anyone,” he quickly tacked on, “Rather, I’d like to be of service to you, Larry. For one thing, I’d like to meet your wife, considering you’ve been with her not many years short of when I faded from the public eye. She seems most accomplished in her own right, having made her own career before stepping back and setting herself on building a family with you.”
“Cindy?” I utter a brief chuckle, “She’s most definitely a woman who doesn’t beat around the bush, or let others easily sway her when she gets a goal in mind,” I pause, waiting a beat as I see my brother sitting there. It’s been awhile since I had someone to really talk to. “I haven’t exactly been keeping my end of our bargain, with the terms of my returning to wrestling. I didn’t mean to intentionally go a different direction than she wanted. Now that I’m at the point I am, though, there’s no turning back. I need to be who I am, and breakthrough to the next level as a wrestler. I’m on the verge of doing that and reclaiming my place as a World Champion. That’s the goal, and much like Cindy, I won’t budge. It’s been causing a lot of discord between us, but I think it’ll blow over eventually.”
I sigh, not really wanting to rehash the events of the past couple months. I do, anyway, because much like being the Power Champion, you need to make the choice that isn’t comfortable or easy. You need to lean into thing when things get rough and tumble. It’s worked in the ring, and maybe I need to unload this burden who’s on someone on my side.
Laz takes it all in, nodding and listening intently as I explain. Once he’s digested it, he leans over to the chair I sat in next to his for our conversation, and pats my shoulder. “My brother, I think you’re more of a resource on marriage than I am. You could probably tell me all the different ways of trying to breakthrough to Cindy, with each one targeting an area of concern, meticulous. I imagine you apply the same surgical approach as in the ring. Sometimes, though, it helps to have a person who can step back and see the broader scene. Maybe it would help if I met with her? I could try and find a middle ground for you both, and mend these charred fences. I know you’ll work things out, but as your brother, I feel like I owe it to you. Let me provide some balm to these ails of yours, so you can stay zeroed in on what you need to do to keep your title.”
As I considered, most of my mind was amenable to the idea. Laz should meet my wife, and get to be apart of our family. He literally was, except for the official reintroduction. Even with all that positivity he was espousing, there still remained a small voice inside of me, expressing unease. It was throwing up the proverbial red flag, making me wonder if Laz had a secondary motive other than good familial tidings. It was true, he had revealed using me for a bit of his ‘research,’ and I was his actual brother.
I scrubbed my mind of the thought, writing off what it was, a defense mechanism that I’d honed to vet anyone who wanted to come near my family. Differences aside, nobody got within reach of my wife or kids without my having signed off on it. That would not change, but this was my own flesh and blood. If I couldn’t find it within me to trust him, then what was I becoming? Who could I trust?
“Laz, I appreciate that so much. Typically, I’m not one to allow unfamiliar people to go around my wife. Please understand, it’s been so long since we’ve really connected, and… no, but you know what? Let’s give it a try,” I grin.
“It’s natural to feel such a protective instinct, and I fairly recognize that, Larry. You’re right, too, I only just made myself available. If you aren’t secure with it, the last thing I want to do is hold you back,” Laz says. Hearing it from him, it sounds outrageous. He has lived the past couple decades of his own life surrounded by security and precaution. If anything, he relates to my hesitation, and then with expressing his understanding? There’s no reason not to feel good about that.
“I’m positive, you’re doing a real solid for me, actually,” I conclude, extending my hand as I stand. “Let me fill you in, and I’ll give Cindy a call to schedule a time we can all meet up. From there, I’ll leave you two to talk things out, and hopefully she’ll see what I mean through your rationale. It can’t hurt anymore than leaving things where they are,” I swallow back another sigh, as Laz stands up.
Instead of shaking my hand, he embraces me in a hug. I forgot what it means to have a brother who will support you, even if maybe you’re being a bit of a jackass. “You know, my brother, I’m something of an empath. I’ve developed a sharp sense for those who have true intentions, and separate them from ones with less defined, or outright destructive cause for their actions,” he steps back from our embrace. “As far as this personal matter goes? I can tell your intentions are true. You don’t seem at all motivated to divide your family. It leads me to reason that this can be resolved. Let’s find that path out of the darkness of this particular tunnel. We can find the intersecting road, where all of these reasons for concern can be validated while navigating through these last challenges to find peace and success.”
“Thanks, Laz. You certainly have a way with words. I’m feeling a little more at ease already,” I pull him in for another embrace.
“We’re coming to a head now, with all of these hungry mouths wanting. I regret to inform you, Sloane, that you’re going to leave Combat Evolved still starved for glory – and it goes without saying, empty handed and without the Power Championship.”
The scene is one seen previously, on occasion: a backdrop of darkness, obscuring what scene lies in the darkness. There are three spotlights, shining down a shaft of pure white light upon pikes firmly entrenched in the ground. Depicted on each is a crafted head – or mask – of the Level Up wrestlers Lord Raab, Kat Jones, and Ziggy Morgan. The spotlights then begin to fade, ceding their market share to a flame that ignites slightly above each of the heads, at the very top of the pikes. The flames provide limited lighting of the nearby area through the glow, and the licking tongues of illumination are enough to cast visibility of myself, the Power Champion. I sit on a gem-crusted, plush cushioned throne. The championship belt that has been in my care for the entirety of 2021 is strapped snugly around my waist. In my right hand, I hold the Wand – a sigiled sledgehammer that I ‘inherited’ from one James ‘The Wizard’ Wilcox – may he rest in a dizzying purgatory. I consider the Power title as the ignited light swipes at my face, partially concealed by locks of golden blonde hair that are strewn around my face.
“Around this time last year, my focus was on the Extra Lives Round Robin tournament. It was a route that the Developer opened to a select handful of wrestlers who were willing to put themselves through a gauntlet of competition. The prize? For the top three survivors, a title shot at a Triforce Champion. For the bottom three? Bruised and battered egos, and nothing earned but the knowledge you weren’t so worthy of a piece of the Triforce as you thought.”
I take hold of the top of the title belt, patting it to emphasize who is it’s present owner. “I got my hands on a title shot, and I never looked back. The circumstances of my victory at Final Fantasy? They’re debated back-and-forth to this day, just ask most of the locker room. Yet, if anything, this title belt was won in the precise environment it was meant to be; the intelligently chaotic, merciless, unbowing hands of superior talent and a cohesive unit: The Game Changers.”
I then tranfer my gaze to the Wand, tightening my grip.
“I made sure that this instrument of malice was also in the right hands. Those were not the hands of a cultist, someone who had no business wielding this power. He was limited in his scope, and choking the essence of the Wand. In my grasp, this has been the last sight many a wrestler have laid eyes upon before they were altogether laid out. It was a symbol of our emergence, and what did all the Level Upbitches do in reaction? From the stands to the locker room, they dismissed the Game Changers out of hand. They took the mission I was on and called it a farce, a joke, a lot of talk.”
I shake my head, still in slight disbelief that all the Level Upbitches would dare to underestimate my drive, and the importance of our mission.
“For their ill-minded bad repute of us, there were steep repercussions. Be it my taking down their brave hero, Duncan Schlepard, to Mister Blizzard’s roasting of Dionysus,” I have to allow a chuckle at the irony, ”To ISAAC and Drake continuing to develop, and ISAAC in particular becoming a contender for biggest breakout star of 2021. The list goes on, but if you haven’t gotten the message yet, you’re likely nothing more than a mule. It’s a disappointing Tact Fact that most of the locker room is, indeed, a bunch of mules. You’re looking for someone to kick, and don’t even realize you’re ass backwards thinking will only get you humbled. Thusly, the Game Changers have steadily risen. Now, whether it’s been Lord Raab…”
Looking to the pike with the Green Disease German Monster’s mask, the flame suddenly extinguishes.
“… Or Ziggy Morgan, who needed his opportunity quashed to find a new light, under our tutelage…”
The flame over Ziggy fizzles out.
“… And even Kat Jones, for all her piss and vinegar attitude…”
As expected, the flame over Kat Jones disappears.
“Only one remains vigilant, reliably unending in his reign, and constantly hungry to move things ahead.”
A lone golden spotlight shines down overhead, bathing me in its majesty.
“Larry Tact emerges. Always.”
I stand from the throne, holding the Wand up, my scepter.
“Even Sloane Taylor, making her splash entry into Level Up. She’s made her presence well known around any company where she is employed. She has claimed titles up and down the totem pole, and across styles. It’s not a stretch of the imagination for Trent Steel to place her in front of me. One of the last remaining hopes for him to wrest the Power title from my unwavering clutches.”
I ease down the sledgehammer at eye level.
“Some will claim she’s made a mark against me, by pinning me in a match. To the naysayers I would simply decree that this is nothing more than apart of the ‘Developer’ side of Trent Steel. Just like with War Games, just like with Kat Jones, there will be a push for someone to topple the Game Changers, and myself specifically. Understand this, though, Sloane: The Power title is a beacon that has washed the opposition to me of their veils. But the veils I speak of are not facades. They represent all the happiness and positivity you seem to thrive off of. From the Level Upbitches, to those in the locker room that wish for you to take this title from me, and finally stave off my rise to the Triforce Heroes, which has been my focus all year. Your good times and feelings? They’re dispelled by this title because it only thrives with chaos, with malice, and I’ve taken those attributes to new heights with this title. I’ve taken the Power division to be blow-for-blow an equal to the Final Boss. I’ll prove as much when, just like your Final Boss Skeleton Key match, you find another champion who isn’t going to allow you to setback their mission. I’ve been on a wave of momentum that will crash upon you and suck you into the undertow that is Power Rules. I’m going to show your sickly sweet outlook that the harsh realities of life aren’t to be denied, or ignored. They must be embraced, and only then do we have our purest form of warrior.”
“I have boiled down to that purest form, Sloane Taylor. When it comes to Level Up Wrestling? You may be on a hot run that is worthy of acknowledgement, but I’m a hot knife that’s going to slice right through your sweet, buttery drive to compete.”
“Stars are meant to be starbroken, Sloane. Time to face real Tact Facts.”
I hold up the Power title, and then swipe against the camera with the Wand.
I wore a powder blue suit with golden cufflinks for the in-home dinner, which we took bites of over the course of the past twenty minutes, while making conversation and allowing us to settle into our positions. However, it was time that we addressed the elephant in the room. I look over at Cindy, sitting in a sleeveless, satin green dress that extends down her legs and has cutouts at the hips. I imagine she consulted on what fashion trends were on the rise, but cutouts? You never know what will hit, I guess. She accessorized with a silver necklace and bangle on one wrist. I considered as I took a sip from my wine glass. When Cindy finishes answering a text message and sets her phone on the table, I give her a grin that wipes away any style questions.
“I really think you should have brought the kids, rather than having them stay another night in Long Island. Logan will be bored to tears with those stuffy relatives,” I begin shaking my head on reflex and stop before my disdain rears itself too far.
“Those ‘stuffy’ relatives are my parents,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes. “Logan will be just fine, considering he needs to catch up on summer reading,” she tilts her glass towards me, as if she’s impressing her concern further. She pulls it back and swirls it a bit. “If you had it your way, we would be here waiting for you to make it back from Texas, in who knows what condition,” she takes a sip while raising an eyebrow at me. If I didn’t know her to be straightforward, I’d think he was baiting me. I leaned back and considered my own glass for a moment.
“I assure you, I have no intention of having that happen again, Cindy,” I used her name as opposed to ‘babe’ or another airy name, so she understood I was serious. I looked back up, not taking a sip of my own. “Do you know who my opponent is for the Power title?”
“As a matter of fact, I do know. Sloane Taylor,” Cindy put her glass down on the table, clasping her hands together. “She happens to be a well established wrestlers out of Chicago. More recently, she held the title of Disavowed Champion, over in PWV, which also isn’t exactly a title that showcases wrestling. She’s tough and she’s tied to Sebastian Everett-Bryce, who I remember you aren’t on… friendly terms with,” she so grossly understated. Maybe she was prodding me just a bit. “I think you’re going to have your hands full.”
“You know, if I didn’t know any better I would think you were a little too pleased with my opponent. You really think I’m not going to be prepared?” I take a sip from the glass, the fruit notes cutting the acidity of the red. My mouth edged on a frown as I contemplated whether my own wife would really wish me to lose my title. The best I could resist was to hold my lips in a thin line. “I know you aren’t a fan of the jungle I’ve landed in, as far as the Power division. However, I’d caution you that, should I lose this belt? It will only necessitate an even more grueling path,” I point to myself, “Because I’m not stopping until the Game Changers and I are in the place we deserve to be, at the top of Level Up and all of its inhabitants – whether or not they deserve to have us at the helm, bringing glory and notoriety to a company whose head deserves to have his bell rung,” I snort, feeling something stuck in my nose. It’s truly irksome, when your body works to shield you from germs and the like, but has no way of expelling it other than blowing a snot rocket.
As I try to inhale, something fouls up and I end up blowing said snot rocket on the exhale, without even touching my nose. I rub the pesky appendage with my thumb back and forth, as Cindy gives me a nonplussed look.
“I leave you alone here for a couple weeks, and you’ve regressed to a teenager,” she regarded me with a waving hand.
I scoffed, “No, I’m comfortable with you. After all these years, you’ve seen me do far worse,” I make sure to add, but she only rolled her eyes again. “Look, you chose to take off, and the only reason I’m not more worried is because I trust this little bout of trepidation you have for my well-being will give way to your overriding common sense for me. I won’t lose this match at Combat Evolved, and in fact, I’ll show you this match is the gateway to exactly what I said: The point when I trade in the Power title for a shot at the Final Boss title,” I give a smug smirk, taking a sip of Cabernet and swishing it a bit in my mouth.
Cindy looked unimpressed, crossing her arms. “How is it you’ve reached the point of stubbornness where you don’t even realize the true risks in play here,” she questioned, her tone a bit more accusatory than earlier. “I don’t need you to be the Final Boss. Do you need to be the Final Boss? What’s in it for you?”
“Babe, don’t get it twisted. I don’t need to be Final Boss, but Level Up absolutely needs Larry Tact as its Final Boss. That title desperately needs to be saved from the endless loop its been in, carried by wrestlers who are content to hold it, but not really sure what to do with it. That drives me to work through each match holding my title,” I hold up a hand before she can interject. “Granted, it’s no walk in the park defending the Power Championship, but it shows more than any other title in that company, the grit of someone who is capable of taking the mantle of Final Boss. That’s how that… current champion got it,” I did my best to hold back any contempt, but I could tell how close I was to slipping off my tongue. I swallowed and allowed my fury for the present Final Boss to recede.
“Guess what, though,” my wife regarded me with some exasperation, “I need you to be well enough and capable of taking care of our family, and seeing our children grow up, Larry. It’s time you snapped out of it and understood that, Sloane? She’s as hungry for that opportunity as you are, and from what I hear, she has a side that isn’t so sweet and compassionate as what people are accustomed to seeing. It’s a side that throws away rational consideration. She has the credentials to back up her ferocity, and if you think I’m saying this because I don’t want you to succeed, that isn’t it,” she leaned forward, uncrossing her arms and without spilling even a single drop from her glass, which she sets on the table. “I need my husband to realize how far down the rabbit hole he’s gone. Even if you do beat Sloane, then what? You still have hurdles on the way to getting a chance to face the Final Boss, right? This isn’t really the end? Be honest with me and yourself, and admit there’s still plenty to do,” she demanded, jabbing her finger on the table with each point.
I returned my face to a deadpan as she spoke, a stone her words could make scratches upon, but not deal any significant damage to. I held like that for several seconds after she spoke, not allowing Cindy to see which way I would go until the moment I felt like proceeding. I shrugged and raised my glass, “If you want to keep peppering me with questions, fine. You’re only showing this is more about how you want to play this, and how you feel, than anything to do with the kids. You’re afraid of seeing me, yes, take some risks – but ultimately, your fear of what happens when I succeed?” I allow myself to affirm my point with a nod. “Well, guess what, love? You’re going to have to – gasp – trust me when I say, I’m not trying to plan the entire future. If I’ve learned anything about Level Up, it’s that curveballs and unfriendly fire are incoming all the time, and I’ve been able to roll with it and squeeze every bit of power from the belt – no pun intended. At this point, it’s being raised to a new level each time I defend it because I’m the one who doesn’t look past each checkpoint, or try to leap to the top all in one launch. You know I’m not going to allow anyone to try and take this title without giving them–“
“That’s the point!!” Cindy exclaims, and I can feel the wave of agitation from her vexed heart. Involuntarily, I press back against my chair a little at the outburst as he continues, “Yes! I know, Larry. I know you won’t allow anyone to take your title without putting them through hell, and leaving them with a much less promising tomorrow than when they entered. Here’s the thing: What happens if they don’t stay down from it?” she pops up from her seat, leaning in as she stabs me with her stare. You talk about how, eventually, you’ll always run into someone who seems to have ‘it.’ Bringing a fight that won’t be stopped. What if Sloane is that fight? You lost to her once already.”
I seethed inside at the mention of Sloane’s prior victory, but tamp down the urge to tell Cindy she was partly responsible, stirring up all this nonsense. Instead, I pinch my nose briefly and look at her. “Yes, I understand, but that’s nothing more than a loser’s mentality. Cin, you of all people should know I’ll be the fight that is too big for Sloane, and for good reason.” I feel my breathing become more rapid, my wife’s doubt a tiresome refrain of late. I can’t help the rising emotion to raise my voice, “Beating me twice in a row?? That happens rarely and it’ll be over my dead body!”
The next thing I know, a shower of wine comes splattering over my face and shirt – a crimson mask of a different sort, and no less inciting. Cindy came right up to me to be certain I took the splash to the face, but I don’t realize her grabbing my left hand until after she’s already wrenching on my finger. “Hey! What the hell is this?!” I scowl in protest, and then pull my hand off hers. She takes a couple steps back and holds her hand up. Trapped between her thumb and forefinger is my wedding band. For whatever reason, I look back down at my hand, somehow expecting this is a joke and my ring is still on the finger. It's not, and Cindy looks at me with disgust.
“You want to be a wrestler?! Be a wrestler! Put yourself in harm’s way until you shatter! But as a husband, you don’t deserve to wear this!” Plunder in hand, she turns and glides away in her pumps, in stride as ever with her head held up. She doesn’t look back and I realize my mouth is slightly agape. The sound of her choking back tears snaps me out of it, but the damage was already done. I allowed my preternatural drive to defend what’s mine take the wheel, and it was clearly not the right all. I shout after her, “This is for Logan, too! You’ll realize someday,” as she grabs her clutch from the cocktail table set up near a sofa. It’s a more common one than the custom glass blown table I needed to have replaced in our home. At least she didn’t smash this one on her way out.
Inevitably, the door slams shut and she heads to the elevator to head back to our children. There’s no point chasing her. In fact, that’s not even it. I remain confident she’ll come around, and return. Until then? She only serves as another distraction from what I need to be focusing on. I can’t allow any distractions, even if it means I’m taking another calculated risk. The choice made, I turn and fume while looking at the landscape of Central Park, what should be a beauteous sight dotted by artificial fairies lighting the way. “I’m finishing my legacy,” I whisper, “I’m leaving Logan, and Morgan, and you… a life’s work to be proud of me for. A defining record of the life I breathed into this industry, even as it tried to strike me down. You’ll see… everyone will know the name ‘Tact’ as enduring, evolving, and everlasting.”
Every few years, I have the walls of each floors of Tact Enterprises repainted. It’s a way of refreshing people’s experience here, a cue to remind them to tackle each day as new, rather than allowing oneself to be bogged down by a rough patch. It’s at these times when the environment is tweaked, that we can discover something new through self-assessment and evaluation. People can always better themselves, and this is a good way of recommitting to that ideal.
It's with this in mind that I survey the purple walls that replaced the red ones in the hallways of the executive floor. I had sales receive orange, digital production take green, and our advertising team got red. Purple was a good color these days, favorable for a number of reasons: It was representative of balance, but also earnestness. A steady leader should possess such qualities, too, after all.
My walk around the floor brings me to the destination of the executive board room, which has also been repainted in purple. I look to my assistant, Tiffany, asking, “Did Mr. Calvin arrive? I had a review scheduled with him for Evergreen.”
“He called, and is on the way, but stuck in traffic coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel,” Tiffany replied dryly, ever the picture of apathetic youth.
“Could you find it in you to at least sound interested?” I provide a not-so-subtle reminder that she took this job offer for a reason.
“I promise I’ve got my head in the game, Mr. Tact,” she continued mirthlessly, “But I just want to get through this day so I can go to the Mets game with my dad.”
“I’ll never fault you for wanting to take in a game with your dad,” I find myself pleased to hear her plans, yet baffled she doesn’t sound excited for any part of her day.
“Yeah, I mean it’s his idea, but I guess I’ll go since they’re good this year,” she typed a few notes in her tablet. “Anything else for now?”
“No, but let Mr. Calvin know I’m in the board room when he calls up. While you’re waiting, please find something that will bring you some joy,” I remark, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, bet,” Tiffany droned sarcastically, “I can feel there’s a press release waiting for me to make a real thrill. See ya later,” she waves at me, flashing a clearly forced smile, while walking away.
I don’t know exactly how to take that, other than the usual: “Kids.” Opening the door, I step inside the board room…
Only to find my brother, Lazarus, sitting in the otherwise empty conference space. My eyes settle on the solid purple suit, blue patterned tie, and black shoes polished to glinting. His locks of blonde hair are tucked under the fedora on his head, and he looks up from his phone as he sees me enter. “Aha, very good. Look who’s all grown up,” he chides and I feel a surge of happiness mixed with a tinge of melancholy.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I rejoice as we embrace, a snug tieup if there ever was one. “I can’t believe this, after all this time we’re finally in a room together. Laz, I can’t even explain this,” I say, looking at my brother and feeling the dopamine course through my system at this delightful surprise.
“Were you thinking this day would never come to pass? For shame, Larry. I merely needed to know all of my dealings are being handled back in… my land. I wanted to have time to catch up, of course,” Lazarus replied.
After we got to talking, it felt like we were still so familiar with each other. At the same time, something was entirely unfamiliar. This was, after all, a kid who had gone through his developmental years of growing up apart from me. “Laz,” I said, laying a hand on the table. “This is such an outstanding surprise, but, I have to say I wish we had more time to talk. I do have a meeting I’m waiting for, if my assistant didn’t tell you,” I noted, and my brother tilted his head.
“Alas, I too wish this was purely a social call, but there is something I had meant to discuss,” Laz admits. “I’ve been trying to keep up with your recent bookings in the ring. It seems you’ve been as diligently relentless as usual,” he observed, and it made me think back to my argument with Cindy.
“I hope you aren’t here to tell me how much I can handle. That’s a discussion is fraught with opinions,” I cautioned.
“No, if anything I’m overwrought with anticipation for your upcoming title defense, which I’ve heard about through the grapevine,” he waved off my concern. “It’s more the burgeoning challenges I’ve heard cropping up at home. It seems you’ve become a well-covered figure after my sister-in-law chimed in with whatever her thoughts were. I’m certainly not here to criticize anyone,” he quickly tacked on, “Rather, I’d like to be of service to you, Larry. For one thing, I’d like to meet your wife, considering you’ve been with her not many years short of when I faded from the public eye. She seems most accomplished in her own right, having made her own career before stepping back and setting herself on building a family with you.”
“Cindy?” I utter a brief chuckle, “She’s most definitely a woman who doesn’t beat around the bush, or let others easily sway her when she gets a goal in mind,” I pause, waiting a beat as I see my brother sitting there. It’s been awhile since I had someone to really talk to. “I haven’t exactly been keeping my end of our bargain, with the terms of my returning to wrestling. I didn’t mean to intentionally go a different direction than she wanted. Now that I’m at the point I am, though, there’s no turning back. I need to be who I am, and breakthrough to the next level as a wrestler. I’m on the verge of doing that and reclaiming my place as a World Champion. That’s the goal, and much like Cindy, I won’t budge. It’s been causing a lot of discord between us, but I think it’ll blow over eventually.”
I sigh, not really wanting to rehash the events of the past couple months. I do, anyway, because much like being the Power Champion, you need to make the choice that isn’t comfortable or easy. You need to lean into thing when things get rough and tumble. It’s worked in the ring, and maybe I need to unload this burden who’s on someone on my side.
Laz takes it all in, nodding and listening intently as I explain. Once he’s digested it, he leans over to the chair I sat in next to his for our conversation, and pats my shoulder. “My brother, I think you’re more of a resource on marriage than I am. You could probably tell me all the different ways of trying to breakthrough to Cindy, with each one targeting an area of concern, meticulous. I imagine you apply the same surgical approach as in the ring. Sometimes, though, it helps to have a person who can step back and see the broader scene. Maybe it would help if I met with her? I could try and find a middle ground for you both, and mend these charred fences. I know you’ll work things out, but as your brother, I feel like I owe it to you. Let me provide some balm to these ails of yours, so you can stay zeroed in on what you need to do to keep your title.”
As I considered, most of my mind was amenable to the idea. Laz should meet my wife, and get to be apart of our family. He literally was, except for the official reintroduction. Even with all that positivity he was espousing, there still remained a small voice inside of me, expressing unease. It was throwing up the proverbial red flag, making me wonder if Laz had a secondary motive other than good familial tidings. It was true, he had revealed using me for a bit of his ‘research,’ and I was his actual brother.
I scrubbed my mind of the thought, writing off what it was, a defense mechanism that I’d honed to vet anyone who wanted to come near my family. Differences aside, nobody got within reach of my wife or kids without my having signed off on it. That would not change, but this was my own flesh and blood. If I couldn’t find it within me to trust him, then what was I becoming? Who could I trust?
“Laz, I appreciate that so much. Typically, I’m not one to allow unfamiliar people to go around my wife. Please understand, it’s been so long since we’ve really connected, and… no, but you know what? Let’s give it a try,” I grin.
“It’s natural to feel such a protective instinct, and I fairly recognize that, Larry. You’re right, too, I only just made myself available. If you aren’t secure with it, the last thing I want to do is hold you back,” Laz says. Hearing it from him, it sounds outrageous. He has lived the past couple decades of his own life surrounded by security and precaution. If anything, he relates to my hesitation, and then with expressing his understanding? There’s no reason not to feel good about that.
“I’m positive, you’re doing a real solid for me, actually,” I conclude, extending my hand as I stand. “Let me fill you in, and I’ll give Cindy a call to schedule a time we can all meet up. From there, I’ll leave you two to talk things out, and hopefully she’ll see what I mean through your rationale. It can’t hurt anymore than leaving things where they are,” I swallow back another sigh, as Laz stands up.
Instead of shaking my hand, he embraces me in a hug. I forgot what it means to have a brother who will support you, even if maybe you’re being a bit of a jackass. “You know, my brother, I’m something of an empath. I’ve developed a sharp sense for those who have true intentions, and separate them from ones with less defined, or outright destructive cause for their actions,” he steps back from our embrace. “As far as this personal matter goes? I can tell your intentions are true. You don’t seem at all motivated to divide your family. It leads me to reason that this can be resolved. Let’s find that path out of the darkness of this particular tunnel. We can find the intersecting road, where all of these reasons for concern can be validated while navigating through these last challenges to find peace and success.”
“Thanks, Laz. You certainly have a way with words. I’m feeling a little more at ease already,” I pull him in for another embrace.
“We’re coming to a head now, with all of these hungry mouths wanting. I regret to inform you, Sloane, that you’re going to leave Combat Evolved still starved for glory – and it goes without saying, empty handed and without the Power Championship.”
FADE IN
“Around this time last year, my focus was on the Extra Lives Round Robin tournament. It was a route that the Developer opened to a select handful of wrestlers who were willing to put themselves through a gauntlet of competition. The prize? For the top three survivors, a title shot at a Triforce Champion. For the bottom three? Bruised and battered egos, and nothing earned but the knowledge you weren’t so worthy of a piece of the Triforce as you thought.”
I take hold of the top of the title belt, patting it to emphasize who is it’s present owner. “I got my hands on a title shot, and I never looked back. The circumstances of my victory at Final Fantasy? They’re debated back-and-forth to this day, just ask most of the locker room. Yet, if anything, this title belt was won in the precise environment it was meant to be; the intelligently chaotic, merciless, unbowing hands of superior talent and a cohesive unit: The Game Changers.”
I then tranfer my gaze to the Wand, tightening my grip.
“I made sure that this instrument of malice was also in the right hands. Those were not the hands of a cultist, someone who had no business wielding this power. He was limited in his scope, and choking the essence of the Wand. In my grasp, this has been the last sight many a wrestler have laid eyes upon before they were altogether laid out. It was a symbol of our emergence, and what did all the Level Upbitches do in reaction? From the stands to the locker room, they dismissed the Game Changers out of hand. They took the mission I was on and called it a farce, a joke, a lot of talk.”
I shake my head, still in slight disbelief that all the Level Upbitches would dare to underestimate my drive, and the importance of our mission.
“For their ill-minded bad repute of us, there were steep repercussions. Be it my taking down their brave hero, Duncan Schlepard, to Mister Blizzard’s roasting of Dionysus,” I have to allow a chuckle at the irony, ”To ISAAC and Drake continuing to develop, and ISAAC in particular becoming a contender for biggest breakout star of 2021. The list goes on, but if you haven’t gotten the message yet, you’re likely nothing more than a mule. It’s a disappointing Tact Fact that most of the locker room is, indeed, a bunch of mules. You’re looking for someone to kick, and don’t even realize you’re ass backwards thinking will only get you humbled. Thusly, the Game Changers have steadily risen. Now, whether it’s been Lord Raab…”
Looking to the pike with the Green Disease German Monster’s mask, the flame suddenly extinguishes.
“… Or Ziggy Morgan, who needed his opportunity quashed to find a new light, under our tutelage…”
The flame over Ziggy fizzles out.
“… And even Kat Jones, for all her piss and vinegar attitude…”
As expected, the flame over Kat Jones disappears.
“Only one remains vigilant, reliably unending in his reign, and constantly hungry to move things ahead.”
A lone golden spotlight shines down overhead, bathing me in its majesty.
“Larry Tact emerges. Always.”
I stand from the throne, holding the Wand up, my scepter.
“Even Sloane Taylor, making her splash entry into Level Up. She’s made her presence well known around any company where she is employed. She has claimed titles up and down the totem pole, and across styles. It’s not a stretch of the imagination for Trent Steel to place her in front of me. One of the last remaining hopes for him to wrest the Power title from my unwavering clutches.”
I ease down the sledgehammer at eye level.
“Some will claim she’s made a mark against me, by pinning me in a match. To the naysayers I would simply decree that this is nothing more than apart of the ‘Developer’ side of Trent Steel. Just like with War Games, just like with Kat Jones, there will be a push for someone to topple the Game Changers, and myself specifically. Understand this, though, Sloane: The Power title is a beacon that has washed the opposition to me of their veils. But the veils I speak of are not facades. They represent all the happiness and positivity you seem to thrive off of. From the Level Upbitches, to those in the locker room that wish for you to take this title from me, and finally stave off my rise to the Triforce Heroes, which has been my focus all year. Your good times and feelings? They’re dispelled by this title because it only thrives with chaos, with malice, and I’ve taken those attributes to new heights with this title. I’ve taken the Power division to be blow-for-blow an equal to the Final Boss. I’ll prove as much when, just like your Final Boss Skeleton Key match, you find another champion who isn’t going to allow you to setback their mission. I’ve been on a wave of momentum that will crash upon you and suck you into the undertow that is Power Rules. I’m going to show your sickly sweet outlook that the harsh realities of life aren’t to be denied, or ignored. They must be embraced, and only then do we have our purest form of warrior.”
“I have boiled down to that purest form, Sloane Taylor. When it comes to Level Up Wrestling? You may be on a hot run that is worthy of acknowledgement, but I’m a hot knife that’s going to slice right through your sweet, buttery drive to compete.”
“Stars are meant to be starbroken, Sloane. Time to face real Tact Facts.”
I hold up the Power title, and then swipe against the camera with the Wand.
FADE OUT
