FADE IN

Thursday, June 9, 2022

After his XWF Anarchy match, Larry returned home via Kayfabe Airlines, having taken advantage of their speedy interdimensional engineering to get from Pasadena to JFK in a fraction of the time it would typically take. Unfortunately, there had yet to be an answer for New York City traffic. Any time he had reclaimed from the Kayfabe Airlines flight was lost while his private car plodded along I-495 and through the Midtown tunnel – whichever lane of the two they chose to go on, it was always more backed up with cars than the other lane, true story – to get back to his Manhattan home, which overlooked Central Park East. After he unpacked and caught a shower, Larry relaxed on one of the plush sofas in his living room, a pint of KCBC’s Superhero Sidekicks IPA in hand. He contemplated the upcoming XWF confrontation he would surely be involved in with the vicious Bam Miller, when his thoughts were interrupted by a buzz on the intercom. He answers and was told a package had been delivered in the lobby for him.

Minutes later, Larry stood at his kitchen island cabinet, back upstairs from the lobby, with a box set on the counter. He opened it and found another box, this one of chocolate covered truffles beneath bubble wrapping. Upon further inspection, Larry saw no indication of who it was from, no return address. The only accompanying item was a typed note, and it stated:

“Indulge your postives. Forget the negatives. Sweeten your life and long will you succeed and reign. Take one a day to countdown the days until your longest reign.”

“What a strange gift. Must be from a fan or something,” Larry mused, looking at the ribbon on the box of what appeared to be chocolate truffles. He shrugged and opened the box, finding the delicious candies inside. “Count down the days… twelve chocolates. In twelve days I’ll be the longest reigning Level Up Power Champion, maybe that’s what it means?” he shrugged, picking a candy out from its mold. He sniffed it and then popped it into his mouth, enjoying the treat. “Why, I think I will indulge myself a little.”

Monday, June 13th, 2022
The Offices of Tact Enterprises, LLC in Manhattan, NY

The executive board room of Tact Enterprises had its seats of the long, cherrywood stained conference table filled. It was the monthly meeting of executives, organized to discuss the company’s current initiatives, prior month’s profits Vs expectations, a review of resource allocation, budget spending, and more. On this day, the executives were surprised at such a rosy review of affairs from the President and Chief Executive Officer. They were generally given a dose of cynicism and placed in the position of being expected to strive towards their next goals, to improve on inefficiencies, and the like. Instead, today they received plenty of encouragement and support from the man at the forefront of his namesake company. Larry Tact sat at one end of the table and surveyed the room. He looked around with a grin and brought a fresh bunch of papers to proceed.

Larry Tact: Right, next up is Budget Allocation, Philanthropic Efforts. It seems like we’ve been in pretty good standing, year over year, with maintaining our 2% increase in donations. What I want to know is, where can we take things from here? What else is out there for us to explore? Bob?

The other members at the table stiffened their postures a little. A man with a full, grey beard and matching bushy eyebrows cleared his throat.

Bob Spruce: To be honest, Larry, I didn’t think we were looking at new philanthropic opportunities, just now. We’re already pushing a satisfactory percentage each year in that area. The bulk of it is driven by the three grants to the education sector.

Larry Tact: Give me a breakdown of our other efforts.

Bob Spruce: Well, for starters we have the workforce revenue sharing program, in which we donate a percentage of our total annual revenue to different organizations, as voted on by our workforce. We setup our DE&I focused Pay It Forward Day, to promote our staff to take a day to team up with a vetted list of NGO’s across the five boroughs.

A redhead woman dressed in a green pantsuit chimed in next.

Veronica Blazer: From a marketing and publicity standpoint, this also helps extend our company’s brand awareness and outreach for new business.

Larry Tact: Yes, I’m aware of the cross-departmental cooperation being done with Marketing and Publicity. You’ve been doing well getting TE’s efforts into TikTok most recently, is that correct, Veronica?

Veronica Blazer: Yes, we’ve encouraged employees to use TikTok, Snapchat, Triller, and other platofrms to broadcast clips of their volunteer efforts with the company’s watermark. There’s also been work on a deal with Instagram for advertising on their Reels, along with possible Twitch partnerships. Those haven’t materialized as of yet.

Larry Tact: What about the Johncast?

Heads turned and exchanged looks with one other. An air of confusion spread over the room like a fog.

Veronica Blazer: I’m not familiar with the company, sir?

Larry Tact: Oh, it isn’t a company, or not standalone. It’s a weekly broadcast that I’ve found over the past year or so, and part of Hitmaker-Yamazaki Enterprises.

More confused looks.

Bob Spruce: Sorry, Mr. Tact, you’ve caught me by surprise, here. Is this something for our Pay It Forward efforts?

Larry Tact: Yes, and we can tie in some advertising, too. You know, I thought perhaps we could work with the Johncast – which is run by the Purveyor of Wrestling Acumen, Danny Danger – and have a contest of sorts. Perhaps the best volunteer could be awarded tickets to the Cannabis Cup? It’s a large-scale event happening next month, and I’ll be there wrestling. We could even advertise Tact Enterprises on the Johncast, to let people know what we’re doing with our efforts. I would suggest we make a donation to the Cannabis Cup, too. Maybe find a distributor to create free edibles with our logo on each one, given to every attendee of the Cup and really get them hyped for the event!

Some murmurs danced through the room, and Larry tilted his head at the sight.

Larry Tact: That last part was a joke, but I do think we could work with the companies already sponsoring the event, and the Johncast.

Veronica Blazer: All due respect for your… creative approach, sir. This is a pretty big effort to do in a month, not to mention it’s for a fairly niche area.

Larry Tact: Niche? I’ve built this company on my savings from this ‘niche’ area, along with profits from the dot com boom in the early 2000’s. You know what the dot com sector was called by those who ended up missing out? ‘Niche,’ Veronica. You need to see the boom before it’s coming, and the wrestling industry is on the rise again.

Bob Spruce: I understand this is an area you take passion to support, Mr. Tact. That said, Veronica has a point in the timeline. Again, we have to think about how much budget we would be pumping into this, too, and the cost effectiveness. How much exposure would we receive from promoting on this Johncast, for instance? Also, what are we talking about in terms of content. What is the profile of this Danny Danger?

Larry chuckled and shook his head.

Larry Tact: He’s a… colorful personality. Danny’s a showman, putting on quite the broadcast, mainly with the help of his own supply of… organic fuel. Alright, he takes a boatload of edibles and enters a plane of existence I can only describe as, enlightened to the idiosyncrasies of the wrestling industry. You should all listen, his takes can be spicy.

An audible groan was released from someone in the room, and Larry looked around to try and spot its origin. Meanwhile, his associates looked concerned at their company’s head.

Bob Spruce: I’m all for targeting our efforts, Mr. Tact, but most people in the Company aren’t interested in the wrestling sector. I’m not sure we could justify it to the Board of Directors.

Veronica Blazer: Not to mention, I’m Googling this ‘Danny Danger’ and I’m seeing some… questionable comments he seemed to have made on Twitter. He seems to take the stylings of a shock-jock more than anything.

Larry Tact: He’s an acquired taste, I’ll grant you that. Alright, well, we’re going to table this for now, and consider what other options are available. Bottom line, I want to increase our philanthropic efforts by five percent, overall.

Now an audible gasp overcame the room.

Veronica Blazer: Sir, isn’t that a bit excessive? In real figures, that would not only be a large allocation of dollars, but also the labor to get programs underway would require new hires, and even then we may need to divert focus from existing programs.

Larry Tact: We can hire more people, if that’s what it takes. I want to make us one of the Notable Givers of 2022, and hiring shouldn’t be an obstacle.

The room was, at this point, hearing-a-pindrop silent as more looks were exchanged.

Bob Spruce: Mr. Tact, you seem to be in quite the giving spirit, yourself, today. Are you alright, sir?

Larry considered Bob’s words before he dismissed them with a wave of a hand.

Larry Tact: I guess I’m just seeing things more clearly for what they are, Bob. The world isn’t all beautiful for everyone, and we have a chance to spread more beauty in places it isn’t. Let’s not horde what we have.

Bob Spruce: That’s a nice sentiment, but again, I’m not sure the Board will see it that way.

Larry Tact: You let me handle the Board, buddy. For now, focus on what programs we are going to line up.

The confusion was blanketed with a tinge of anxiety as the executives were baffled by this extraordinary loosening of the purse straps, while Larry steered business to the next item on the agenda.


Later that afternoon, Larry exited an elevator on the executive floor as he returned from lunch. He greeted his personal assistant, Tiffany, while heading into his office. Not a minute later, Larry heard someone approach Tiffany. He was about to close the door to his office, but left it open a crack.

Man: Hey Tiff, you feeling the vibe for this weekend?

Tiffany: What vibe is that, Christian?

Christian: The concert vibes, of course! Get this, I scored 2 tickets to BILLY JOEL this weekend. At Madison Square Garden. I could consider making one of those tickets yours, if you were interested…

Christian sounded very smug as he put the offer out there. He received a laugh in return.

Tiffany: You’re so from Long Island, it hurts.

Christian: What’s that supposed to mean? I appreciate kickin’ music?

Tiffany: Barf. Billy Joel never should have left there, it would have been a favor to the world.

Christian: Okay, what do you think is ‘good’ music, then?

Tiffany: McCartney. MetLife Stadium, on the 16th. That’s what I’m going to.

Christian: Wait, you got tickets to the show??

Tiffany: I may have overheard one of Larry’s clients had a few seats he was giving away, and I asked.

Christian: Wait, Larry gave them to you? And since when does he have direct clients again?

Tiffany: Aren’t you in sales? You’re so out of the loop, my god. He took over some of Cesar’s clients after he stormed out. It was a whole thing, but Larry’s been handling some key accounts until they find a replacement.

Christian: Key… wait, I didn’t get any!

Tiffany: Heh… no, you wouldn’t would you?

Christian: That’s not funny, Tiff. I work my ass off around here, and I deserve to be considered for a whale if it’s available. He’s been acting funny lately. Did you hear about the meeting they had earlier?

Tiffany: Duh, I was recording the minutes.

Christian: Oh yeah, right. He’s throwing money around as if he’s handing out water to a drought community in California. It’s wild.

Tiffany: Did you know that philanthropy can unlock parts of your brain that were previously dormant?

There was a noticeable pause at this.

Christian: What? Where the hell are you coming from to drop that on me?

Tiffany: Just saying, there could be more reasons for why things happen then you know.

Christian: No, what’s happening with him is because of his last match in Level Up. He got sprayed with some whacked out purple mist, and it warped his mind!

Tiffany: What are you… are you one of the wrestling geeks here?

Christian: I’m a wrestling FAN. There’s nothing wrong with following the product where the CEO is involved.

Tiffany: Whatever, you’re not going to get a promotion or anything.

Christian: No, I… forget it. Point is, not everything’s running normally between his ears. He’s in serious need of some anti-venom, or an antidote. I dunno, what the hell do you give someone who was poisoned?

Tiffany: You’re a lot weirder than I realized. That’s my bad, though. I mean, your roots are in following Billy Joel.

Christian: Stop knocking a legend and true artiste. Besides, I’m just concerned what Larry may do before he gets right. You know he doesn’t just throw money around.

Tiffany: Well he pays you, doesn’t he?

Christian: Shaddup. I want him to get right before his next match. He’s got a tag team match—

Tiffany: I’m sorry, did you just say, ‘tag team’ as if I’m supposed to know what that is?

Christian: Ignoring you. He’s got to get back in the ring, and he’s got to… revert or whatever, back to himself soon.

Tiffany: You know he just went into his office, right?

Christian: …

Larry waited a few moments, then opened the door and saw Christian from Sales had already scampered back down the hallway toward the elevator bank. He gave a small nod to Tiffany.

Larry Tact: Everything alright out here?

Tiffany: Beating back your adoring fanbase.

Larry chuckled at that and closed the door to get back to work.

Tuesday, June 14th, 2022

The doctors walked into the examination room and closed the door behind him. Larry sat on the table, something he had been doing a little too often, given the nature of the Power title and its brutal matches. He had a mission of proving himself up for the challenges that were brought his way, or that he found himself. However, he did need to be mindful of his body’s limitations, too. He wasn’t in his twenties anymore, but some of the fighters in Level Up were, or they were hardened veterans that were as stubborn as he was to reach their threshold for pain so easily. Thus far, Larry had bested the competition, but his latest match had created quite a stir. The doctor gave him a curt nod and Larry smiled.

“Doc Mann, how are all my turbines and machinery, eh?” Larry joked.

“Your… well, you’re certainly in good spirits, I’ll give you that,” Dr. Mann noted.

“Never better, as a matter of fact. I know that last EXP match with Guy Man Son caused a bit of chatter, but like I told the doctors at the event: I’m not feeling any adverse effects. In fact, I went over to XWF Anarchy and took up another booking over there. They did a pre-match check and cleared me, too, so I don’t know what all the concern is about.”

Dr. Mann tapped on his clipboard. “You tell them about the circumstances of your last match, Larry?”

“They conducted the same physical they do on all the rostered talent.”

Mann shook his head, “Okay, but that’s just what it is – a physical. They were doing a routine check, and what the concerns are about, believe it or not, has nothing to do with your body. Despite your best efforts to put your body at risk in these extreme matches you’ve been having, it turns out you’ve managed to stay a step ahead of your competition. You’re healthy, physically healthy.”

“I know what I’m doing, Doc. I’m keeping myself mentally prepared, and not allowing others to take advantage of what I’ve been building. I came back to wrestling in 2021 not because I was recovered from injuries, or wanting one more match. I returned because my family was set where they needed to be, my son in high school, my wife with our baby daughter, and extra hands on deck to help Cindy with day-to-day stuff while she cares for our littleist one. Most importantly, I was comfortable enough with where I’d be leaving them, so I could pick back up with my wrestling career. I would never have returned had I not been prepared – physically, and mentally.”

“Larry,” Dr. Mann hesitated, then continued, “We’ve known each other for a long time. Our families have celebrated occasions, like the birth of your children, and we’ve been up and down the road – or, rather, I’ve gone to you when you’ve been unable to get down the roads, and needed someone to tend to your various ailments. I still don’t know why you’d rather have me bandage your ass up rather than go to the hospital for outpatient care.”

Larry pat Dr. Mann on the arm, “I’d rather go to who I trust, or pay them to come to me. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

“No, the troubling part brings us back to what we were discussing. Mentally, Larry, you’ve got… irregularities,” he stopped to see if Larry responded, but received only a perplexed look. “You keep telling everyone you feel better than ever, but have you ever thought you shouldn’t be feeling that way?”

“I don’t think I understand what you’re getting at. You’re saying I should be feeling like shit?” Larry replied.

“Not that, but do you feel any pains?”

“No.”

“Is anything bothering you?”

“Not in particular that I can think of, no.”

Dr. Mann nodded, “How do you feel about Guy Man Son, who sprayed you in the face with purple mist?”

Larry grinned at mention of his most recent opponent’s name. “Guy? He’s a hoot. A bit of a wild card, that one, but you have to understand, these matches aren’t supposed to be clean and neat. Shit happens. Yeah, Guy sprayed me with his mist. I don’t think he meant anything malevolent by it. He’s competing in there.”

“From what I heard, he was rolling around the ring even after you pinned him… still trying to reverse the pinfall, but only grappling with himself,” Mann looked incredulous as he said it, but went on, ”The man may be the case study of the century, but I’m pretty sure even he had intent with what he did.”

“Alright, but what’s the point of this lecture? You still haven’t given me a reason to feel concerned.”

Dr. Mann scratched the five o’clock shadow on his face. “Larry, you haven’t been feeling any negativity in your life. While that’s all well and good for someone who lives in a complete bubble, you hardly fall in that category. You’ve got stress from your business, from your wrestling career, and you’ve expressed to me how you’re constantly juggling your work and spending time with your family. You can experience stressors and maintain a baseline of happiness, but it’s as if you’ve had the brain signals cut off that express stress to the rest of you, and that’s cause for concern.” Larry scoffed and was about to respond, but stopped himself, which Dr. Mann took note of. “Are you starting to understand? When’s the last time you felt irritation, or upset about something that happened, hmm?” Mann pressed Tact.

Larry tried to remember the last time, confident it couldn’t have been long. He took half a minute, then started to feel doubt creep into his own argument, when he suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh! On the way back from JFK, I was stuck in traffic on the LIE. It was bumper-to-bumper and there really wasn’t a better way back. I felt like…”

Dr. Mann raised an eyebrow, “You felt…?”

A warm feeling suddenly overcame Larry, and he smiled. “I felt like it is what it is, you know? I mean, there wasn’t anything to do but ride it out. What’s the point of being upset?”

“There it is, like a failsafe mechanism,” Dr. Mann pointed out.

Larry shook his head and held a hand up, “No, you’re misunderstanding. I had other things to do in the car, so I made good use of the time. Plus, I had my daily treat that I hadn’t taken yet, and it acted like a salve for any irritation.”

“What is that supposed to mean, your ‘daily treat?’ ”

“I had a fan gifted me a box of chocolate truffles, and they were awesome. I mean, these things are guaranteed to brighten anyone’s day. They’re delicious.”

Dr. Mann almost smacked his hand to his head, but managed to audible to a pinch of his nose as he let out an exasperated breath. “Larry, how did you not tell me this earlier? I need to know what you’re putting into your body.”

“I just, I didn’t really think anything of it. They’re chocolate truffles, man. I didn’t get shot by chocolate like it was mist, okay? I treat myself once a day to them because I like the taste.”

“You got them from a fan? What did they look like?” Mann inquired.

“The fan? I wouldn’t know, it… okay, don’t fly off the handle here, alright? It was mailed to me, and uh, there wasn’t exactly a return address.” Dr. Mann gave a long, hard look at his patient. He then pinched his nose again as Larry held his hands up and shrugged. “You won’t let me have any nice things, will you?” Larry tried to quip.

“Larry! Did it ever occur to you that you may be ingesting something that’s causing your erratic behavior??”

Larry recoiled a bit, ”Whoa, whoa, wait just a minute. First you said it was the purple mist. Now you’re saying it’s some whacky truffles that are making me… some sort of way? If that’s even true.”

The good doctor bottled up his frustration and went into a more calculated, rational mindset. “I’m saying it isn’t helping. Generally, the people who have been hit with Guy’s purple mist have recovered within a day or two at most. It’s been over a week, Larry. You should have come to me with this much sooner! As for the chocolates, it’s tough to say but there is a strong possibility the effects of the mist are being prolonged as a result of them. Whether it’s a coordinated effort, or someone who wanted to play a prank and didn’t realize how the two things would intermingle in your system, that’s impossible to say from what we know.” Larry listened to the doctor, all the while fighting an impulse to refute everything he was saying. Dr. Mann went and got a cup of water as he continued. “Tell me, Larry, how does all this make you feel? Are you feeling irritation or anger?”

Larry searched inside of himself, and was almost surprised to find a specific emotion rising up. “Actually, no. The only thing I really feel like saying is… I’m sorry.“

Dr. Mann, who was taking a drink of the water, promptly sprayed it out at hearing his patient, as Larry went on, “I didn’t mean to disappoint you or make your job more difficult. It seems like this was an ordeal I could’ve avoided for you, by giving you the information earlier, and I apologize.”

Dr. Mann threw up his hands, “Oh, hell no. This has got to stop!”

“What?” Larry looked dumbfounded as the doctor moved with a purpose. He went over to a counter in the examination room and opened a drawer, pulling out a pad and pen. He jotted something down and tore the page from the notepad, passing it onto Larry, who glanced at it then back up, “What’s this?”

“That is an order for imaging at New York Presbyterian. I want you to go there and have them do some toxicology. Best I can tell, Larry, you’re being affected by some sort of neurotoxin, and it’s completely altered your personality!”

“What?! How the hell can you say that?” Larry looked pleadingly.

Dr. Mann sighed, “Larry, I’ve known you for almost twenty years. What you just said? Those words would NEVER come out of your damn mouth, if you were yourself. We have to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours, and fix it ASAP. Now get going.”

“Doc, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”

“Just go, Larry! You’ll thank me later… no, you won’t. That’s just not what you would do. You can send me a bottle of my usual, though. The real you knows what I mean, wherever he’s holed up in that mind. Now get going before the folks over at Imaging get too booked up. I’ll call in a favor with one of them.”

Befuddled, Larry slides off the examining table and looks at the prescription, then Dr. Mann, who nodded as Larry looked back at the paper and walked out of the office.

Monday, June 20th, 2022
The Executive Office of Larry Tact

Inside the corner office, the walls were adorned with photos and even a couple oil paintings of Larry: In the ring having his hand raised, or holding up championship belts. A couple large bookcases were filled up, a glass case with some trophies was in a corner near the natural wood desk, and a bar cart with some choice bottles of choice on display near the veranda behind the desk. Larry Tact sat behind his desk in a navy blue, pinstriped suit, with a purple tie and black helix pattern. His golden blonde hair was neatly tied back, and his fingers were steepled as he held his hands just under his chin and stared intently at the drone camera filming him.

“It’s been maybe the most bizarre couple of weeks I’ve had in my career, to be honest,” Larry began, “I’m still trying to process what happened. At least one person wanted to see me vulnerable, in a position that I’m not accustomed to being. What they did was try to poison me, and in fact, they succeeded. I was legitimately poisoned,” he slammed his hand on the desk, his eyes narrowed a bit. “But not just any poison, no. I was poisoned in a way that would change the very way I viewed the world. I was practically riding a high that I never asked for. I found myself very much in la-la land; the type of place most of the fans around the world would love to be in on a permanent basis, so they can forget their pathetic, insignificant lives. Sadly, most of them can’t even afford the drugs that it takes to induce such a reverie, and the poor simps either find someone more successful or famous to latch onto – be it through a new source, a webcast, or otherwise. That’s why we now have this generation of ‘influencers’ circulating around the internet, and some raking in plenty of coin, too. I’ll give them credit, they’re working the system in a way that’s advantageous to themselves. They give the simps a little taste of a world that isn’t their own, to forget their troubles and live vicariously through another life, and they leap at the chance. Some might say they take a leap of faith, looking to find an experience that they never could produce in their own life. They just want to forget what they’ve failed to do for themselves.”

“But the last thing I want is to forget my life, and what I’ve achieved. Because I’m not one of the listless. I’m not one of the leeches of society. I’m a man above the plain and obscure, above the plebians. I wield a powerful hand while passing my judgments through a humble lens on those who would stand between me and my goals. A Humble King.”

He leaned back and paused, allowing things to breath as he contemplated his next words with deliberant intent.

“I came to the XWF expecting to answer a challenge to a man who is anything but humble. He’s a man who’s been touting how tough he is to anyone who will listen. A plea for relevance to be restored to his name. Bam Miller wanted to be acknowledged by anyone who would give him the time to spew his self-aggrandizing rhetoric their way. When I heard he was returning to wrestling, I looked around at his profile. What I found was someone who simply wasn’t matching all the boastful tweeting and loud mouthed, brash claims that his mind decided were worthy of wasting oxygen that the rest of us are more deserving of,” he frowned and shook his head. “Bam needs to know that shooting your mouth off may work on Twitter, it may even work in the XWF. But someone needs to finally shut you the hell up, even if that means wiring your damn mouth shut. I was tired of waiting for someone else to step up and actually handle that piece of business, so I decided that it was time to shut you up myself.”

Larry leaned forward again and rested his hands on the desk, looking amused. “What better place to do that very deed than the Cannabis Cup? It’s going to be the place where you do a little soul searching, while you’re laying on your back, staring up at the lights, Bam. After I humble you to the tune of a three count, or submission of my choosing, you’re going to have plenty of time to do so. But then I got to thinking, ‘This guy doesn’t travel alone, not really. For all he wants to claim to be an ass kicker for the ages, he’s got enough brain cells to piece together the adage of strength in numbers.’ So I went looking around at what it was I’m really up against. That doesn’t mean Bam Miller, one-on-one. It means I’ve got to address the backing, the muscle that protects the bones I’m going to break. It means Chronic Chris Page Enterprises,” he nodded and stood up, circling around the table, the drone cam following as he paced around his office.

“I came to XWF and answered your challenge, Bam, but that’s not the only reason for my being here. Granted, what I said on Anarchy was that I was looking to challenge myself, and I suppose there is some logic to that. I’m looking to take down some of the collective barrier that CCPE surrounds you with. They afford you some protection, and in return, reap whatever successes you think you’re achieving by yourself. It’s all a little parasitic when you’re looking at it from the vantage point I am, as a leader of a group. I’m not just a cog in the system, like you, Bam. I realized I wanted to make broader changes to the company I’m in, more than any one title would allow. I made a decision, months ago, to break through the bullshit standards typically found in wrestling companies, then dressed up in red tape to make it seem all official, and ironclad. The rules are never so finite, and all you need to know to see that is when I stepped onto the stage at Anarchy. I didn’t need to read the rulebook that XWF has in place for the likes of cogs like you. I’m welcomed here with open arms, because I’m a Game Changer. When I set foot into a company, it means something spectacular and tactilizing is about to take place on their broadcast. As advertised, at Warfare I’ll show up and show out, Bam. I’m going to show you how a leader conducts himself, as opposed to a cog. When I take my shot, I don’t miss my mark, and this is simply the first. Don’t fall too soon.”

He smirked and momentarily waved a finger as he stopped at the bar cart. He set a glass on the tray and grabbed a couple bottles as he speaks. “But like I said, you’re not walking into this match alone. No, you’ve got some muscle in the form of former XWF Anarchy Champion, Elijah Martin and the current XWF Supercontinental Champion, Peter Vaughn. And here is where I must admit something to the XWF simps who will sit their lard asses in the stands…”

Having fixed his drink, he held it in hand for a moment, but then laughed and put it back down on the tray. “I’m not so impressed as you all, seeing these two standing alongside Bam. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about facing top competition and these two have held titles here, with Peter currently a champion again. No, the issue comes in the form of our past dalliances. It almost comes across to me as, well, predictable and uninspiring. It almost does, if it weren’t a straight up annoyance to see your faces again. But congratulations on triggering my irritation – it’s a refreshing feeling these days.”

He made his way over to a small, round table with four cushioned seats at it.

“Let’s make Peter wait a little longer, shall we? So, Elijah from the Bronx. I guess the XWF is where you crashed after I sent you to the four winds, unable to come back to that other company we tangled in. I’d apologize to the XWF faithful, but you seem to deserve each other. I’m sure you’re all set to tell me how different a man you are these days, and that you’ve become much more of a threat to me than I could imagine. Well, I hate to disappoint you, Elijah, but I didn’t simply forget about you after our first and only encounter to date. I mean, I sent your ass packing with a Humbling and left you laying for a three count, but that was only the beginning of our story, right? I knew, eventually, we would cross paths again, and I’ll get to that in just a minute. But I don’t live in a bubble, no. I keep track of what’s happening in this industry. It helps me see what needs to be changed for the better, and what better way of keeping track than to see places like the XWF subject their roster to its own brand of pain and suffering. I’ve picked up an idea or two for my own, I’m humble enough to admit. But you, Elijah? You came here and immediately looked to chase Centurion and the Anarchy title he held at the time. A man I’ve beaten before, and would again if he decided he wanted another round in the ring with my brand of punishment. You of course, had about as much luck beating him on the first try as you did with me. You eventually found your way to the Anarchy title, and kudos for that,” he gave a half-hearted golf clap, “But that’s now been relieved of you, too, hasn’t it? You and Bam aren’t so different, when it comes down to it. You both exhibit blowhard tendencies, wanting to be badasses just for showing up in the ring, but that’s all a weak veil. When you run into the actual badasses of this industry, and get your face bruised and your pride shattered into pieces, then you scurry for some semblance of dignity. You scramble on hands and knees to an entity that will make you feel accepted, and that acceptance validates anew your façade of an attitude. You joined CCPE.”

He chuckles and traces a finger on the table.

“You decided it would be in the best interests of your career to latch onto this group, or better said, you allowed Chris Page to convince you of it. The problem is, Elijah, you’re not really worth the attention it would take to elevate you into a true star. You’re only good for two things, Elijah. First, the blood that pumps through your battered body; and second, your fuck-all attitude that Chris Page taps when he needs to send a warm body into a fight. Other than that, you aren’t worth the grass you touch to try and find some semblance of meaning to an otherwise meaningless existence,” he pounds the table, then looks up with a shit-eating grin.

“Speaking of your life, that takes me to the reason I knew our paths would cross again. See, while you’re a deplorable waste of resources, your pathetic attempts at being a tough guy must have drawn the attention of the innocent and well-meaning, Lexi Gold. She must feel for you, and care about you, since it’s clear no one else does. I won’t claim to know the details of your relationship because that’s of no interest to me. But believe it or not, I’m friendly with Lexi, and chat her up while we have the ole Johncast on, listening to Danny Danger spout his incessant misconceptions that I need to correct from time to time. He has the occasional insight, though, and while I listen keenly for those moments, it’s nice to have Lexi as a presence of sanity during that insane program,” he nodded and stood up again, putting a hand in his coat pocket, his countenance having faded to one of disgust.

“She’s truly a person with the right intentions and potential to be a star. In short, she’s everything you’ll never be, Elijah. While she’s a grown woman who makes her own choices, I knew at some point I’d have the pleasure of punching your sad sack face again for somehow making her waste any of her prime with you,” he cracked a small smirk. “And so it has come to pass. Elijah from the Bronx, still with the father who no-showed your existence. Still with a failure of a mother, who couldn’t bear the sight of what she brought into this world, and decided instead, she’d drink to forget her responsibility to you. These are core failings that molded you, Elijah, the perpetual never-will-be. But look on the bright side, you’ve still got your blood pumping, keeping that body of yours nice and warm. That’s enough for Page to find something for you, like this match. I’m not sorry to say I’ve no sympathy for you, nor sympathy for the XWF as they give you a ring to roll around in. The reality is, you’ll be another casualty to the warfare I wage, and I’ll accept nothing less than your humbling, tactful surrender.”

He strode back over towards the other side of the room, where the desk and bar cart are.

“Of course, I may not have the chance, due to the nature of this six man tag. It’s very possible you’ll be bailed out by the one man who I consider to be a cornerstone of CCPE – Peter Vaughn.”

Having reached the other side of the room, he turned and sat on the desk, one leg hanging off, his hands rested on the desk’s top at either side of him.

“Peter, I wonder if you were surprised to see me show up? I’d assume it’s doubtful you were, because of all people you know that I’m capable of setting foot anywhere. You’re smarter than these other two, and realize that I don’t just talk the talk, but walk the walk. When it comes to Larry Tact, you acknowledge that I’m a threat and a formidable force to be reckoned with. Yes, a reckoning I delivered upon you more than once before, and in circumstances with much higher stakes than this match presents. Nevertheless, Peter, here you stand as XWF Supercontinental Champion, a title that I don’t take lightly. You’re effectively at the top of Warfare, as I see it. You’re unrivaled at the moment on this show I’m stepping onto, and that means something. It means something to the fans, who look on at you with sullen, sunken in eyes and little motivation to pull themselves up, much the way you have. It took some time, but you made that transition – from a nobody being pounded on the weekly, to somebody who can call themselves a champion. Granted, you seem to have a bit of trouble holding onto those titles, but maybe it’s too much to ask for you to have a long retention span. After all, you’re still what your roots molded you to be, Vaughn. At heart, you just fight failure a little harder than other failures. But when the rubber meets the road, you skid and crash.”

He turns and walks over to the bar cart, picking up the filled glass and returning to his position on the desk.

“What I want to know is, what’s changed between us? You’re still a man with the pressure on you to perform up to the expectations you believe you should be held to. I’m a man who doesn’t play to expectations because I’m above them. I don’t constrain myself. I don’t have a system of beliefs that’s inherently designed to doom me if I face someone like, well, a Larry Tact. See, Peter, I would guess you still have this fanciful thought stuck in that very thick skull of yours, in which I should face you on your terms. The reality, meanwhile, is that I determined this stage. I chose to go after Bam, and I knew you would be lurking because, well, that’s what CCPE does. They want to protect their own, and it makes you predictable and vulnerable. I’ve had to feel the sting of vulnerability beyond my control, Peter. It’s not something I’ll be allowing you nor the CCPE misfit muscle to put on me again. Instead, I’ll be taking the fight to you, and showing you why your roots, and your ideas of how wrestling should be? They’ll hold firm until, like a hawk, I decide to swoop in and snatch those ideas into my clutches… then squeeze with a force you can never quite calculate, because you’re dealing with someone who’s never satisfied with what’s acceptable, and always pushes his limits for more. Then, when you’re fading in my grasp, a realization will hit you: You’re a title holder, and one of Page’s most reliable members, yet… you’re still just a cog, even if a shiny one. When I beat you, Vaughn, I’ll be doing you a favor. Even if for just a moment, I’ll be giving you some tactful clarity. Call it, the Gift of Tact.”

He raised his glass.

“And I’ll cheers to that.”

He took a sip from it, and set it back down.

“Now I know that the ‘great’ CCPE isn’t going to merely allow me to trample all over their futile plans and intentions. I’ve been around the block long enough to know, even if I don’t respect much of anyone in this filthy wrestling industry, there are times when I can take advantage of a situation. When it comes to this match, Peter, Elijah, and Bam? You three are supposedly on the same side, while I’ve got two partners in Jason Cashe and Ned Kaye who I’m only cursorily familiar with. Cashe I know from that other place – Elijah, you know the one,” he somehow managed a smarmy wink, “While Ned I’ve only taken stock of around here. Regardless, I want to make something abundantly clear to you three that we’re going to face at Warfare. The only thing you truly have in common is that you’re fight junkies. You’re addicted to the fight; whether you can handle it or not; whether you even know who your opponents are. Chris Page? He’s like your dealer, giving you all the fights you want, and even making some of them title fights to sweeten the bait he lured you in with: promises. A lot of promises, but when it comes to a situation like this, where you need to band together? Well, you aren’t a team with a discernible advantage. Some may claim that myself, Cashe, and Kaye are three guys thrown together, and what good will that do when we don’t know each other? That’s where you’re deathly wrong.”

He picked up the glass, gazed at it as he gently swirled the contents.

“Like any good cocktail, you have to know the ingredients will mix together well. You can do that by studying and knowing what effect each will have on the overall combination. For myself, Cashe, and Kaye, it’s real simple. We’ll blend together quite well because we have a common goal: Beat the living hell into you three. That doesn’t require us to color between any lines, or sing kumbaya together. We’ll do it however we can, by whatever means present themselves in the moment. When you have a common disdain for foes, it’s actually works as a convenient binding agent. Negativity is a blessing, in that way, providing focus and intensity to an otherwise random collection of talent. Meanwhile, the three CCPE fighters are certainly not fond of us, but I’m sure Elijah and Peter aren’t exactly listing you at the top of their priorities, Bam. Elijah just beat the snot out of you at Anarchy, while it goes without saying Vaughn needs to be concerned about his next Supercontinental title opponent. What do myself, Cashe, and Kaye have to be concerned with? Dismantling your team, and claiming victory at Warfare.”

He again takes a sip of the drink, then sets it down on a coaster.

“XWF Warfare, we’re coming to not only humble you, but to show that your most basic instinct isn’t to protect, but to fail. As for my basic instinct?”

He shifted off the desk, standing confidently and with a smirk on his face.

“It’s always been and always will be, to simply… Tactilize.”

A knock on the door is followed by Larry’s assistant, Tiffany, opening it a crack.

“You had asked me to stop in, Larry?”

“Yes, Tiffany,” Larry held a hand out, indicating her to wait, and went behind his desk. He opened a drawer and took out a box, of chocolate truffles, and walked over to her. “Please take these to Christian, in Sales. I wanted to let him know… what I think of his performance, lately. Needless to say, he’s earned a place on my radar.”

“Oh okay, yeah. I’ll take this to him and let him know,” she said, and left with the box. Larry turned back to us.

“It’s all on my terms, gentlemen. I don’t discriminate, whether it’s corralling a malcontent in my midst, or clearing them from my path. Tactilize. Humble. Clear from my path. I hope you three have Chris Page’s spin machine ready, because after we’re done with you at Warfare, you’re going to need to pull each other off the mat, go backstage, fire that sucker up and mansplain it all away to yourselves.”

FADE OUT