Vincent Black - what to look for

“ How have you been since our last session? ”

“ Well... ”

The days after my first fight against Rhodes and Chaney went about as well as expected. A small but welcome amount of traffic to my website, to my profile on their website. The outcome itself was what it was, and while I don’t like concentrating on these things, this one was especially easy not to. Chaney won because he’s good. It almost makes me glad his shitty show didn’t take off. This business needs guys like that. Fat dumps who rather eat a burger than deadlift. Gives people something obtainable to aspire to. The day after I was woken as I expect to be woken until death. By a very excited wife who can’t wait to tell me something.

This particular morning was different. When my eyes opened, I saw a small gold planet hovering just above my face. It took a second before I realized this was actually a trophy that my wife was holding above my nose. And then I was angry. I mean, I am angry. But this reminded me of one of the reasons why.

Vhodka Black
“ You won! You really won! ”

Vincent Black
“ …what did I win? ”

Vhodka Black
“ This…umm.. ” She pulled the trophy up to her face and made an expression that I call ‘werterferk,’ because she makes me call it that. She looks at the base the little gold man is standing on, and reads it aloud. I’m reaching for my cigarettes, forgetting I quit months ago. “ …Outstanding stunt coordination? ”

Vincent Black
“ …oh. ”

Usually when I receive an award such as this, it’s part of an elaborate and desperately juvenile attempt at agitating me by my brother. This time though, it was real. I’m on a show called The Killing Floor. It’s about a scientist who captures a demon and uses it’s DNA for experimentation on humans in the hopes of making god cry. I play the larger creatures, the ones with no lines besides ‘arrghh’ and ‘roarrr.’ We were practicing our fight scene for this one episode, and I brought up how my creature seemed to be operating stiffly. I offered an alternative, and now I’ve got one more thing to look at when I walk to the bathroom. Had I known then, what I know now, It would have been different. And it’s not the first time I’ve thought that.

Vhodka Black
“ We have to celebrate!! ”

Vincent Black
“ Fancy or fun? ”

Vhodka Black
“ Charles Edward Cheese, so both. ”

A few hours and quite a bit of planning later, I find myself watching my 4 children, the child of the man who is currently…complicating…my ex wife’s life, and my wife huff pizza off of dented metal trays while an arcade teeming with transient, attention deficit children bounce from one coin operated distraction to another. My ex-wife, and mother to ¾’s of the brood are smiling. A long time ago we told the children that if they don’t eat their pizza, the machines won’t work. They’ve not yet figured out the truth, and my wife has either decided to play along. Or actually believes it. Either way, she’s helping. And I wish she could help more. But there are some things I’ll always need my ex-wife for. And if she ever hears me say that, Be aware they will never find my body.

Candice Wolf
“ If they ever talk to the other children, we’re done for. ”

Vincent Black
“ I’m sure google will be the one to do us in. ”

Candice Wolf
“ Thanks for the invite. It’s been awhile since I had boxed wine and streptococcus. How are things? ”

Vincent Black
“ As good as they get. ”

I smile falsely while keeping the somber tone I needed for the next part of our conversation. Transitions are tough. It’s not everyday you ask your ex-wife who you cheated on for a favor. And to do so at a child’s play place isn’t precisely perfect. If I had any chance of fixing Marty’s life, my foster sister, I needed Candice. Marty hates me. Not only because my father told her to, but because of how I handled it. All he had to do was fill her head with shit and wait for me to try and flush. Does that make sense? I was on the phone with my father in law for a few hours and I think he got to me. Anyway, She agreed. Not for Marty, though. And that made me feel even worse. Had I known before asking her that it would make me feel that way, I might not have.

The plan, in partial detail, is that when I find Marty I’m going to drive her toward Candice. Who Marty will see as my natural enemy. Candice will then set her up somewhere on my dime and give her the kind of life I would have given her back then, had I known then what I knew now.

Hours later, I’m sitting in my office and I’m thinking about my next opponent, Tara Ayla. And I’m thinking about my son, Callhan.

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Your opponent and your son? ”

Vincent Black
“ Strange connection to make, I understand. My son is autistic. I believe I am as well, despite having never been tested for it. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ When we were kids, it wasn’t found unless it was drastic. ”

Vincent Black
“ I’m pretty sure mine is drastic. Thing is; My son didn’t talk for most of his life. His 5th birthday came and went without a word. He’d make sounds, he’d say mama, dada, but that was it. The rest was gibberish. It wasn’t until we got tubes put into his ears that he finally began to speak. I tell you, those years were hard. Grown ups would tell me things like ‘oh how lucky’ or ‘wait until he starts speaking and then you’ll miss when he couldn’t.’ Can you imagine looking someone in their face and telling them the one thing you want is going to make you miserable to the point where you don’t want it anymore? That they’re going to prefer not being able to speak to their own child? ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ I can. I don’t know how I’d handle that. ”

Vincent Black
“ I resorted to threats, both un-fulfilled and otherwise. He talks now, and I don’t talk down to him just because of his age. I talk to him like an equal. He’s earned far more than that. He’s a good kid. Better than I deserve. And I’m proud of him, even on his bad days, because he’s overcome so much. And he’s good. He’s loving, and kind. I want to be him when I grow up. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Why does he remind you of your opponent? ”

Vincent Black
“ Tara is mute. So it’s the same situation but in reverse. She can’t talk to her kids. Not the way I’m sure she wants to. We all learned sign language for Call. Even the girls. Because we never wanted him to be alone. and maybe it’s ableist, but I feel like the connection a child makes with their voice is important. So, as much as I want to take this woman’s face and smash it into little pieces. I also want to tell her; I get it. I understand. But this business isn’t built on understanding. This business is built on opposition. Granted most of it is fucking imagined. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ How so? Don’t you all want to be on top? ”

Vincent Black
“ No. Some of us want to be on top. Some of us walked through the curtains the first time because we wanted to be the best, sure. But most of us want the outlet. It’s better than medication or therapy. It’s why I’m here. It’s why she’s here, I can promise. Damian, he’s the kind of guy who likes to lord over people. It’s written on his well groomed fucking face. Tara. Tara is here for the same reason I am. To punch a face and make a name. Neither of which require fucking trinkets around a waist or a spot in the top five. She may not be able to say it outloud but her actions speak volumes in that regard. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ I imagine for some it makes it difficult to fight someone you have so much in common with. ”

Vincent Black
“ You’d be wrong. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ So in your efforts to become relevant in this business again, while also fulfilling your need for violence, is there no room to make connections to new people? What if you and her could help each other? Connect. You’ve said before you have an issue with that. Perhaps this could help. ”

Vincent Black
“ I’ve made friends before. I’m far better at making enemies. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ What if she could benefit from your experience? You wouldn’t want to tell her about her? Make her life better the way someone made yours? ”

Vincent Black
“ She’s my enemy. And if she does find out about my experience, and it does help her…I’ll tear the fucking information out of her head with my bare hands. I understand her situation, Doc. I empathize. But I never said I gave a fuck. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Ok, do you feel it? The shift we talked about? ”

The shift the Doc was referring to was my constant jump from open and caring to shut down and angry. As Unpredictable as a plinko chip bouncing from one peg to the other. I never noticed it because I never had reason to. It was her opinion that…

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ You do this because it has been instilled in you that showing any sign of care is a weakness. It’s why you’re so easily angered by people you like as opposed to people you don’t. You said it yourself, you usually hit people who you don’t know, but when it’s someone you do know, you go for the throat. It’s not who they are, what they say, or how they act, but what they represent. They represent a softness that you feel but resent. ”

Vincent Black
“ You always hurt the ones you love. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Sayings like that don't last because someone puts them on a t-shirt, Vincent. They stay around because it's true. In your case, though. You do it because you love them.”

Vincent Black
“ That’s not true. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Is it not true, or do you not want it to be? I suggest you take a good long look at some of your relationships. ”

Vincent Black
“ Like the one I’m actively trying to repair? ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Yes. The one you broke because the person loved you and someone you hate, and now need to fix. Especially. Time is almost up Vincent. Any bombs you wish to drop on me? ”

Vincent Black
“ No. Although I won’t be here next week due to the holidays. My in-laws are having us out to their place for the holidays. It’s a small town. This building has more people. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Do you like it there? ”

Vincent Black
“ I hope so, otherwise I bought it for nothing. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ … ”

Vincent Black
“ Wait. Let me backtrack a little… ”

The ride home from Charles Entertainment Cheese was mostly phone calls regarding the trip to Bent Fork for christmas. My father in law, he’s a proud man. Doesn’t like taking handouts. Feels like the amount of money I have is wasteful. Doesn’t like me spending it. So I find work arounds. Case in point; I bought 40 propane heaters to place all over the trailer park so everyone would be warm while outside. I’ve got a team of 15 people denting, rusting, and chipping each and every one, so I can explain that I got a great deal on them, or he won’t let them anywhere near his land. I don’t go to this length for many people. But I do when it counts. And for my wife, it always counts. And then I thought about what you said last time;

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Tell me, did you ever close yourself off to her? Do what you do to everyone else you love? ”


Vincent Black
“ No. ”

Dr. Abigail Tenor
“ Be honest. ”

Vincent Black
“ For like a decade. ”

Back to my Christmas plans. I had to go pick up one of my wife’s gift, as they had just flew in to Newark, and in case you’re unaware, the Newark airport is a chaos at the pick up lane, and while I could have easily sent a car, I had them meet me at the drop off section which is far easier to pull up to. Cops tend to get upset when you do this, but what are they going to do, Fine me? I’m wealthy. Fines are just the price of admission for doing something illegal. It’s why I always tell my kids; Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean it’s right. And just because it’s illegal, doesn’t mean it’s going to be fun.

Mostly yes. But not always.

The little shits that make up my protege, my wife’s protege, and some other kid that doesn’t really fit with any of us, are standing on the sidewalk bickering at each other in the same fashion I’d last seen them. Standing to the rear is one of my oldest friends, not in life, just in age, and he’s pinching his nose as if they are causing him pain. I almost want to leave him here to deal with it. I do not. Because this isn’t about me. This is about her. And all things are worth it for her.

Asher, my protege, is the first one in the car. His suitcase, which is several white grocery store bags all tied together on his lap. Noelle next to him, her small bag resting on her lengthy skinny legs. JJ, who is the only one who has actual luggage, deposits it into the trunk and squeezes into the backseat. Mutante slides into the front seat, and before I even touch the gas, Two out of the three in the back are bitching about the flight, the food, and everything else. Mutante removes a plastic flask from his pocket, and from what I can tell, drains it of whatever is left.

Mutante is duplicitous and insincere. And those are his good qualities. But what he lacks in most areas, he makes up for as a wrestling teacher. Being tasked with these three is probably the ‘most messed up or effed up’ thing I could do, as my friend Method Man would say. But he’s done a great job. And I will never, ever admit that.

Vincent Black
“ You’re really fucking this up, you kow that? ”

Mutante
“ Excuse me, puto. But I would like to point out that all 3 of them are on a winning streak, no gracias a ti. I have taken 3 of the stupidest people ever known, and trained them to be at least stupid and successful. Now, say thank you. ”

Vincent Black
“ Perra sucio. ”

I drop them off at the apartment I keep for them, and make them painfully aware that any action that spoils this surprise for my wife will end with them wishing for death that won’t ever be delivered, and leave. When I got home, I found my wife packing her suitcase, and mine, and two smaller ones for the dog and cat, and she was so excited to go home. She was watching Price is Right, and was spouting out numbers here and there. I stood in the door frame and I listened to her and again, thought about Tara. About how Damian, miserable shit he is, and how he doesn’t get to hear Tara speak. The love of his life, he doesn’t get to hear her. And I think back to when I wasn’t able to talk to my son, and in that moment, They have my sympathy.

And then that moment passes.

And in the moment after I am consumed with a need. Not to be the pretend monster they see on tv, but the real one I’ve spent years trying to keep from getting out. The one that wins me awards, not because I’m good at pretending, but because when I’m playing that monster, I am not ‘playing.’ I am unleashing one for real. And while it does not have a chainsaw for a hand and a steel plate for a jaw, it is inhuman in form and inhumane in action. It has gotten me past far bigger people, if not better. I’m not foolish enough to say that she’s not a star. No one could argue otherwise. The work she’s done since her return has been incredible. But, Because there is often a ‘but.’ Let’s keep one thing in mind. By signing on for this match; Tara did not raise me up to her level. I brought her down to mine.

And I intend to keep her there.

I know now, what I knew then. That this business is a rather large teeter totter. One second you are up in the air, and then the next your ass is inches from the dirt. The person closer to the ground has more control, and can simply push off and go airborne. While the person up on high has not just the other person on the totter to worry about, but they also have gravity to compete with as well. And gravity is only one of the few things in this world…

… That hit harder than I do.

Granted life has hit Tara rather hard. So I may not be able to live up to the level of agony it has caused them. After all, it has had years worth of time, thousands of people to lend a helping hand when needed, and a myriad of ways in which to deliver itself upon Tara. Me? I have one night. 20 minutes. And the only form I can use is physical violence, and maybe, if I’m feeling up to it, some sort of psychological mind game. There is no way I could possibly put so much effort into this match that it could come some sort of defining moment of absolute terror in Tara’s mind from this day forth. Even if I spent all of my time trying to break parts of them that would not heal at all or correctly, I could not come close to equaling the amount of damage just existing has done to Tara.

But I’m going to try.

Not because Tara deserves any more pain and anguish than she has already. Because I deserve to be burnt into Tara’s memory. Into everyone’s memory. But Tara especially. I deserve a spot in the consciousness of what may be one of the most hurt and distraught people on this planet. I want Tara to look at the pain that life throws at her, the constant disappointment she feels each and every day and I want her to thank her lucky stars that at least, It’s not me.

The world should crumble at her feet, and splinter as she flees, with a plague of flesh eating insects in pursuit, and she should look at the ground barely beneath her feet, in the midst of a run that does nothing more than delay the inevitable, and think to herself in the final moments as the bugs wrend her flesh from bone in a flurry of razor sharp mandibles…

At least it’s not him.

That has always been my point here. The one job I’ve been expected to do. I’m trying to do it better, if not different. But when the end of the day comes, we can only play to our strengths. I’ve made mine very clear over the course of my career. Against Tara, I intend to adjust the clarity to crystal. I am not the man she is fighting, I am not the person she is to do combat with. I am the stranger she has yet to meet. I am not the evil that she has ever known…

I am the devil she’s about to meet. The devil she’s going to know on a first name basis through firsthand experiences. And when all is said and done in this chapter of our intermingling, she will know that while she will always be a badass, she is not ever going to be the bad ass. That is going to be my job, and I plan to die in it. Will she get used to it? Will she be able to conform to the new reality? Time will tell. The proof of either will be visible upon her form or mine. And if she is wrong about her assumptions, that’s fine. Same if I’m wrong. We’re destined to be wrong, one of us. And that’s okay. It’s understood by all. Transitions are hard.

I turn my attention to my wife, and I realize that while she’s packing, she isn’t just spouting random words. She’s literally packing and calling out the results of the plinko chips path. Almost immediately as the SAHM dropping them releases it, she’s predicting the exact amount it’s landing in.

Vincent Black
“ How- ”

Vhodka Black
“ WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!! ” She screams and undoes all of the packing she had just done. Which isn’t alot since she doesn’t actually fold anything.

Vincent Black
“ …did I scare you? ”

Vhodka Black
“ …no. ”

Vincent Black
“ Liar. ”

Vhodka Black
“ What were you asking? ”

Vincent Black
“ How do you know the amount she’s about to win? ”

Vhodka Black
“ If you’ve seen enough episodes, you'll understand it. ”

Vincent Black
“ But it’s random? ”

Vhodka Black
“ Everything is predictable if you know what to look for.. ”

Vincent Black
“ Yeah... ” I want to tell her how hard I wish that was true for most things. Like myself. I wish I could fucking see what it is I’m going through, and notice it. I wish I could understand what it is that’s alluding me about this business and this new way of doing things. If I could sit down and look at it all and predict it, I wouldn’t have had what happened last week happen. I’d have been prepared. But Chaney eked past me. Tara could roll over me. And I’m sitting here watching Plinko and feeling like I’m blind compared to her. I want to tell her all of it but I can’t. I physically can’t. As if my tongue is weighed down and my jaw is wired shut. And in that moment, I am just about all but lost to the rage that follows. But then she’s in my arms. And suddenly, none of it seems to matter. Tara could kill me at this moment and I’d be ok about it. Chaney could beat me every day of the week and I’d be ok about. Because I had this. And this, is as good as it’s ever gotten.

Vincent Black
“ …how’d you know I needed this? ”

Vhodka Black
“ Everything is predictable if you know what to look for. ”

______________________

The can of tuna in her hand is at least half of the money she was able to secure, and while it’s the best option for protein, it’s gross without mayo which was way above her budget. Walking down the aisle, she began to reface the items as she looked upon them. She did an entire aisle before she heard the woman approach.

“Why are you working for free?”

She thought about telling the woman, But she just shrugged and started to walk away.

“You hiding from someone?” the woman asked. “Is that why you didn’t fill out the application? Because you can’t?”

She nodded, careful not to disrupt the loose wig on her head or the oversized glasses on her face. The woman nodded toward the office, and she followed. Later the help wanted sign would be down, and the helpless feeling would be decreased.