You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid
“Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar
You’re gonna go far, you’re gonna fly
You’re never gonna die
You’re gonna make it if you try
They’re gonna love you”
– Pink Floyd, Have a Cigar
“Just sign on the dotted line and your life changes, Mr. Leon.”
“Aw, you can call me Silvio!”
“I think that’s a bit too familiar for the work setting at this point. Let’s keep this professional.”
Silvio had a sneaking suspicion that if Jodie Nguyen did so much as look at a lump of coal, it would first apologize for its existence before promptly transforming itself into a diamond under the pressure of her gaze. Her office was well appointed without seeming ostentatious. Dark wooden shelves filled with books, a number of house plants bringing a little life into the room, and a contrastingly bright koa wood desk that gleamed from the backlighting provided by the floor-to-ceiling windows behind it. Jodie herself was neat as a pin, not a raven hair out of place, dressed in a deep red business suit that seemed less an outfit as it was an extension of her personality that had taken on garment form.
“So, uh, speaking of professional…I haven’t met the boss yet in person. Am I going to get a chance before the show?”
When he was scouted by Ascended, Silvio had spoken primarily with Jodie and her assistants. The letter he’d received as an invite was supposedly penned by the company’s owner, but when he’d compared it to Kane’s and Zephyr’s, it was exactly the same, only the names differing. Apparently the owner had hand picked Silvio as well as his companions, but he’d still never laid eyes on the man.
Jodie drew in a long breath through her nose before releasing it again through her mouth, gaze never breaking from Silvio’s.
“…You want to meet Mr. Afsah.”
“If I’m going to work for the guy, I’d like to meet him if I can. Unless this is all an elaborate ruse and he’s six raccoons in a trenchcoat or something.”
“I can assure you,” Jodie said, a note of what Silvio swore was exasperation in her tone, “Mr. Afsah is not six raccoons in a trenchcoat. To be perfectly honest, even the carrying out of that particular illusion would likely require an expenditure of effort he would recoil from should it be so much as suggested.”
“He’s that lazy?”
“Mr. Leon, I speak English, French, Vietnamese, Japanese, and Spanish. Even with the breadth of my linguistic skills, I could not through any combination of words or expressions from one, some, or all of those languages accurately convey the indolent lethargy that Marcus Afsah exudes at any given time.”
“So,” Silvio said, raising a brow and gesturing to his general surroundings, “how did any of this happen?”
“Me,” Jodie answered simply. “Mr. Afsah is the one with the ideas and grand visions. Whatever else he may be, he can be very compelling, and his instincts for what will be profitable are close to infallible. I’m the one who figures out the execution.” She steepled her fingers on the desktop. “I enjoy a challenge, and am generously remunerated for my efforts. The work suits me. Ascended will, I believe, suit you as well.”
She gestured to the contract that sat on her desk before Silvio, an elegant nib pen set beside it.
“Just sign and we can begin.”
“Listen,” Silvio said slowly, “before we make everything official, I’d really just like to meet him. If I’m going to be breaking my face on a biweekly basis, the least he could do is show me his.”
Jodie sighed at length, closing her eyes, one fingertip beginning to tap upon the desktop.
“…Fine.”
Opening her eyes and rising from her desk, Jodie straightened her suit jacket and nodded for Silvio to follow her.
“He’s supposed to be in his office presently,” she told him, “but I can’t make any guarantees.”
Silvio followed Jodie, trying to commit the layout of the building to memory. This was going to be his professional home for the foreseeable future; the sooner he got familiar with it, the better. Marcus’ office wasn’t too far from Jodie’s – just down at the end of the hallway. He blinked in surprise at the double doors that nearly reached the ceiling, gleaming in white and gold.
“This is his office?” he queried.
“This is his office,” Jodie confirmed.
“I feel like I’m going to walk through these into the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles,” he laughed.
“I assure you if it occurred to Mr. Afsah to get a recreation as his own personal office, he would. Do not, for the sake of my sanity, suggest that in his presence. Should you be tempted, please bear in mind payroll is one of my duties.”
“No talk of absolutist French sun kings and their opulent palaces – got it.”
Opening a small, discreet panel beside the door, Jodie tapped a button on the device concealed behind it, and leaned closer to its receiver.
“Sir, Mr. Leon is here. He wanted to meet you in person before signing his contract. May we have a moment of your time?”
The reply came surprisingly quick, following a click from the device. The voice on the other end was a smooth but curt baritone.
“The tarot card kid? Sure, whatever, I can spare ten.”
“Thank you.” Closing up the panel again, Jodie gave Silvio a nod and gestured for him to open the door. “I’ll be waiting in my office when you’re done here.” With that, she departed, leaving Silvio alone in the hallway in front of the imposing set of doors.
Taking a breath, he closed his fingers around one of the handles and pulled them open. At first, he couldn’t figure out where, exactly, his new boss’s desk was. The room was big, filled with expensive-looking furniture, cut crystal light fixtures, and even what appeared to be a marble fountain featuring ornate, angelic statuary. After a moment and a few steps inside, however, he finally spotted the desk situated at the end of the room.
Sitting at said heavy mahogany desk in a plush, scarlet chair more suited to lounging than work, trimmed in matching wood and gold, was one Marcus Afsah. Despite Jodie’s descriptions of lethargy and laziness, he was very put together–his deep jet hair was pushed back in a deliberately effortless style, paired with a shadow of facial hair kept in a neat shape and accented with a shake of salt in his temples and near his hairline. He wore a red silk shirt under a dark maroon jacket and a black tie, gold watch flashing on his wrist as he set a stack of letters aside; when he glanced up to his guest at last, green eyes caught the light, and the man’s affection for emerald accents suddenly made sense.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Silvio replied, closing the space between them. “Thanks for your time. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. I wanted to tell you face to face how much the opportunity means to me and my friends. We’re grateful you want to hire us.”
It wasn’t just about the money, either. Zephyr could continue building her career, Kane would be safer from the people pursuing him, and Silvio? Well…he’d have the cash and resume building, but there was also that audience of one he had to satisfy.
Marcus’s brow lifted, turning his attention away from the paperwork he appeared to be sorting. He removed a pair of gold air buds as Silvio made his approach, setting them down in a white tray decorated with fine golden angel wings.
“I’m an investor,” the man said, folding his hands under his chin. Even his fingers were adorned with rings and gemstones. “I put my money where I think it’ll appreciate in value. I happen to be interested in pro wrestling right now, and I liked what I saw.”
“I’m still glad you did. It means a lot to be able to go home and keep working as a wrestler. I figured I would have to choose one or the other, so I’m happy that’s not the case. I’m not sure if you have something in particular in mind for me here at Ascended, but I’m not going to pussyfoot around what I want anymore.”
That prompted a lazy smirk from Afsah. He sat back in his lounge chair, eyes on Silvio as he brought his hands up to settle behind his head.
“And what are we not pussyfooting around then, sparky? Did you come in here to put your foot down before you even put ink on the page? From the look of you, I’d think you’d go for the ink first.”
Silvio snorted, returning Marcus’ smirk. “I just want to be clear on what my goals are. I’m not going to ignore my own needs in favor of everyone else’s anymore. This is a new company; it’s pure potential. Getting in on the ground floor of something like this is rare, and I’m motivated to make sure it succeeds. I’m good at figuring out what people need. I’m good at inspiring them. I’m untouchable on the mic, and I’m damn good out there on the canvas. I’m going to make myself the face of this company, and I’m going to elevate everyone else here with me.”
“Atta boy.”
With a languid grin, Marcus swayed forward to rest his elbows on the desk.
“Well, I can promise you this much, kid. As long as you keep the fans entertained, and you keep me from getting bored, Ascended is gonna give you the stones you need to build your steps. That’s your golden rule under my roof. Got it? Don’t… be… boring.”
“Mr. Afsah,” Silvio said with a rueful grin, “I come from a trailer park, I got my first job as a tattoo artist starting when I was sixteen, I spent my first years out of high school living in a drag house, competing in shows and doing make-up, I’ve kept up some interesting hobbies over the years, I’m romantically involved with a rock star in a polyamorous relationship, and I left Los Angeles for Baltimore to become a professional wrestler who picks his opponent’s heads apart using tarot cards.”
He spread his hands.
“You ever heard the curse, ‘May you live in interesting times’? I don’t know who the Hell threw that one at me, but trust me – I’ve got a lot of material to draw from.”
“Good.” Marcus remained still, as if the notion of movement was of itself too much effort. Only the corner of his mouth tugged, his eyes hooded. “Use it. Make me some money. Trust Jodie out there–she’s as sharp as she looks, and she’ll ensure you keep that edge. Any other questions, sparky?”
“That nickname’s gonna stick, isn’t it?”
“You only get one first impression, kid.”
“I’ve had worse. Thanks for your time.” He extended a hand for Marcus to shake.
Rather than mustering the effort to meet the handshake, Marcus gestured with his head to a crystal bowl on the corner of the table, brimming with candies wrapped in gold foil.
“I’d rather you took one of those instead of my watch.”
Silvio froze, blinking owlishly at Marcus.
Did Marcus have some kind of file on him? Silvio had never been caught at anything illegal save…well, that one time, but it wasn’t the police who busted him; there wasn’t any record.
How did–
Silvio snorted, dropping his hand and plucking a candy out of the bowl.
“…You were listening.”
The tattoo artist had said it himself – impoverished background, an early need for independently earned money, dexterity with cards and sleight of hand in his promo work? It was an educated guess, but Silvio had basically confirmed it as correct when he froze up.
He’d have to be more careful around this guy.
“That’s a weird feeling,” he mused, closing his fingers around the candy before seemingly making it disappear when he opened them again. “I’m usually the one connecting the dots; not the picture being revealed.”
Mr. Afsah hummed behind his hands, watching Silvio’s at work for a moment before his steady eye returned to his would-be employee’s face.
“You’re not in Baltimore anymore, Divine. No more settling for crab boils. It’s time to up your game. Make sure you can handle it.”
Silvio nodded, making the candy reappear in his other hand.
“Believe me – I’m not just planning to up my game, Mr. Afsah. I’m looking to upset the whole playing board.”
YOU SEEM TO BE SETTLING IN NICELY.
“And you seem to be nicely unsettled.”
Finding affordable rentals in Seattle wasn’t easy, but Silvio had lucked into a nice one-bedroom in Ravenna. Normally he would have avoided the neighborhood. Being in the shadow of the UW at any other time would have been an exercise in masochism. But after discussing things with Kane, actually voicing his thoughts about reining Spooky in and possibly getting rid of them? It wasn’t masochistic anymore.
It was motivating.
For the first time in six years – Christ, was it seven now? – he finally felt like he was taking a step in the right direction to solving his problem. There wasn’t any cream, spray, gel, medical procedure or even manual on what to do when you were ritually sacrificed by a suburban cult to bring about the end of the world only to have them fuck things up resulting in an eldrictch abomination riding shotgun in your brain. Really, it seemed like a niche that could use filling. Maybe he’d write a book once he finally got free of all this.
Regardless, it gave him hope. It meant the possibility of a future he could control. It meant unfettered access to making his dreams a reality without having to take into consideration the needs of a cosmic horror being that fed off madness and spectacle.
WE FEEL THAT WE SHOULD HAVE A TALK.
“I feel that you should eat my entire ass. Notice you’ve got a pretty civil tongue in your head. I mean if you have any anatomy that could be identified as such. Makes me think we’re feeling a wee bit out of our depth, hmm? I don’t believe you’ve ever had anybody fight back effectively before.”
WE WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE SITUATION YOU NOW FIND YOURSELF IN WITH THIS NEW WORKPLACE.
“I see a lot of potential; a lot of opportunity. I see a supportive staff and a boss willing to invest in his talent. Hell, the guy even managed to get all his employees healthcare, dental, and vision.”
AND ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS MODEL SOME OF THAT FETCHING UNDERWEAR ANOTHER COMPANY UNDER HIS NAME MAKES.
“Hey, I worked hard to get this body. If I get to have posters in boutiques that show it off and make people swoon and question their sexual orientation, all the better. Besides, it’s not like I don’t jump around the ring in what’s basically a Speedo and knee-high boots for a living.”
YOU’RE WELCOME.
Silvio paused in cutting the packing tape from a moving box.
“Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? I’m what now?”
YOU ARE WELCOME. WE ARE PLEASED OUR SUGGESTION HAS IMPROVED YOUR LIFE SO SIGNIFICANTLY.
“Oh, don’t even start with that nonsense.”
HOW IS IT NONSENSE? IF IT WERE NOT FOR US, YOU WOULD NEVER HAVE EVEN ATTEMPTED THIS. NOW NOT ONLY HAVE YOU FOUND THAT IT SUITS YOU, BUT YOU HAVE MET SO MANY IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE. YOU WOULD NOT HAVE KNOWN KANE, ZEPHYR, OR GRACE. YOU WOULD NOT BE LUNA’S GODFATHER.
“I didn’t have to stay. I could have bailed any time if it wasn’t worth it. You would have been whiny about it and maybe made my life harder for a while, but you don’t get to take credit for the things I’ve accomplished.”
WE WOULD NEVER. WE ARE SIMPLY STATING THAT IF WE HAD NOT POINTED YOU IN THIS DIRECTION, YOU NEVER WOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL.
“Neither of us knows that that’s true.”
PERHAPS. BUT BE HONEST – HOW LIKELY WOULD IT HAVE BEEN?
“I don’t know,” Silvio admitted. “But I’m not giving you a lick of credit for where I am now. If anything, I’ve been succeeding in spite of you; not because of you.”
IS THAT SO?
The wrestler cried out, hand shooting up to his face as the scar bisecting his eyebrow gave a painful throb.
WE WERE UNAWARE YOU POSSESSED SUCH REMARKABLE HEALING SKILLS. WELL, WOLVERINE, IF YOU’RE NO LONGER IN NEED OF OUR SERVICES, PERHAPS WE SHOULD SIMPLY LET YOU HANDLE EVERYTHING WE HELPED YOU BOUNCE BACK FROM…
A coppery tang filled the air as a rivulet of blood coursed down Silvio’s face from his brow, the wound smarting as much as it did when it was inflicted upon him in the ring. In fact, his entire body began to ache with the memory of blows dealt to him by his former opponents. Big Boss Spookitude sped along his recovery from any match, saving him days, weeks, or even months of down time. Right now, it seemed like they were letting everything they’d spared Silvio close in on him all at once. Cringing, he curled in on himself, legs giving out beneath him as he fell to the floor.
“Ssstop it you prick-!” he hissed out, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m still doing what you want me to do!”
Instantly, the pain abated, the scar on his brow resealing itself.
WHICH IS PRECISELY WHAT YOU SHOULD CONTINUE TO DO. REMEMBER, ANY GIVEN RELATIONSHIP HAS ONLY THREE POSSIBLE POSITIONS FOR ITS PARTICIPANTS TO FULFILL. WHO IS IN CONTROL, WHO THINKS THEY ARE IN CONTROL, AND WHO IS DEFINITELY NOT IN CONTROL. I THINK WE BOTH KNOW PRECISELY WHAT ROLE YOU OCCUPY IN OUR PARTICULAR DYNAMIC.
“Just get lost and let me finish setting up my bookshelves,” Silvio grumbled, rubbing the blood still clinging to his face away with the heel of his hand.
OF COURSE. YOUR COMFORT IS FOREMOST AMONG OUR CONCERNS.
“Yeah, clearly.”
They were scared. They would occasionally lash out at Silvio over petty things, but it wasn’t often. If they went too far, they’d lose their meal ticket, and then where would they be? He’d been all wrong about how he was approaching this before. Going it alone – isolating himself – was never going to work. Only after he’d made powerful connections with the people around him was he able to slip free of his bonds. It might have only for a little while, but it had been enough. It had never happened before, but he’d found a bent bar in the cage that held him. It was like when you were in the ring and you focused on a single limb of your opponent to incapacitate them and set them up for a loss. He was going to hammer at that weak spot in this trap until it finally gave way. He was going to take his freedom back. He was on the right track now; he had to be.
He had to be.
WELCOME HOME, SILVIO.
“This is one of the things I love about Seattle.”
Silvio Leon sits at the edge of what looks like a contemporary ruin. Ivy twining up its columns, the Mystifying Oracle swings his legs gently against what appears to be an on-ramp that was cut off before it could join a highway.
“We don’t try to cover up our past. We find unique ways to memorialize and celebrate it. Did a fire tear through the city, forcing us to regrade our streets and eventually seal off the old parts that still existed below? Well, let’s pop that top and turn it into the Seattle Underground – a world-famous location that brings our seedy, conniving history to life in ways textbooks never could. Do we have an old gasification plant that’s no longer viable and ruined the environment around it? No problem! Instead of tearing down the structures, we’ll keep them up, let nature reclaim them, and make one of the most bad-ass, post-apocalyptic-looking parks ever. Was there a big corporation looking to build a freeway that tore through not only the natural environment but also through a ‘funny coincidence,’ just so happened to require the demolition of homes in predominantly Black neighborhoods? That doesn’t sound too cool to us, so we’re just gonna go slay that dragon, and let its bones stand as a memorial to what activism done by ordinary people can accomplish.”
Patting the concrete beside him, Silvio grins.
“Welcome to the Ramps to Nowhere. What looks like the end of the road turns out just to be a way for a new story to tell itself. And so it is with your Mystifying Oracle! To those of you who have followed me to this new promotion, thank you. To those of you for whom I am a new and exciting phenomenon – hi there! Pleased to make your acquaintance!
“As you may or may not know, my old place of employment closed up. Or didn’t? I don’t even know at this point, and there’s no reason for me to look back. The important thing is, ya boy got an offer with higher pay, choice benefits, and better exposure in the Emerald City. Getting an opportunity to keep on keepin’ on back here in my hometown was a total no-brainer. I’m the only one who gets to say when my story ends, and I’m not done yet. Matter of fact? I’m just getting started.”
Rising to his feet, Silvio grins, eyes glittering.
“I know my worth. I’m done not acknowledging where my accomplishments have taken me and how impressive they are. I’m done letting people who don’t know what they have – who they have – dictate what I can and can’t do. It’s like the song goes, folks – ‘You are the light of the world; But if that light is under a bushel; It’s lost something kinda crucial; You gotta stay bright to be the light of the world.’ And babies, I’m your phantom phoenix. I’m your weird wildfire and your eerie incandescence. But don’t just take my word for it. Let’s see what the universe has to say on the matter.”
From his back pocket, Silvio pulls out a deck of cards he shuffles deftly.
“What’s in the cards for me? I don’t ordinarily do readings for myself, but I’m making an exception here; breaking ground on the next chapter of my career. We’re going to do a simple past, present, and future reading for today. ”
He takes a card from the top before presenting it to the camera. It shows a rune-etched wheel suspended in the air, surrounded by angels and beasts clutching opened books. Atop the wheel is perched a sphynx with a sword clutched in one paw, and on its bottom clings a man with the head of a jackal.
“The Wheel of Fortune. This card represents change. The wheel’s always turning and life’s always shifting with it.”
Silvio grins with a little shake of his head.
“This signals a critical turning point in my life, and has connotations of opportunity. Seeing as I accepted an offer to get in on the ground floor of a brand new promotion, I’d say this one’s right on the money. So, if that’s my past, how’m I doing right now?”
The next card drawn reveals an illustration of a woman kneeling beside a river with two ewers in her hands, a star-spangled sky stretching out above her.
“The Star’s all about renewal, hope, inspiration, and purpose. This makes sense and aligns with the previous card.”
Looking up at the camera, Silvio’s eyes brighten and his smile broadens.
“Like I said – I’m not done. I’m where I need to be to not only continue, but amplify every word and action to their full potential. But it’s not just me, folks. Another thing the Star represents is generosity. If y’all followed my previous exploits, you know I care about my co-workers.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes.
“To a fault, according to one of my friends, but honestly, I can’t help it. We have a rare opportunity here. Ascended is the pristine block of marble with a work of art locked inside of it. It’s up to us to free it for the world to see. And as confident as I am in the person I want to be and how I’m going to make my mark, I can’t do it alone.”
A hand extended to the camera, beckoning to the viewer, he continues.
“Come with me. Come with us. The chance to build a corner of the world for yourself occurs so seldomly. It’s here. It’s now. If you let it pass you by, you’re going to regret it. Wherever you are, whoever you are, do yourself a favor and come to a place you can help shape from its inception. What’s past is prologue. It’s brought you to where you are now, but it’s time for you to write your first chapter and take control of your narrative. There is nothing more powerful than telling your own story. If you feel like where you’re at is denying you that freedom, then leave. It’s that simple. It’s that hard. But if you’re not happy where you are, then go. They may have convinced you that you need them, but fuck them – it’s not true. We’re here for a good time, not a long time. Don’t keep pouring your life into a place that doesn’t understand how precious it truly is. I’m not waiting on anyone else’s permission to do what I want to do and subjecting myself to the rules of people who truly do not get it. You should do the same. It takes courage, but I’ve got it and I know you do, too. It’s time to show it to everyone.
“Finally, what’s my future looking like?”
The last card drawn from the deck shows a woman suspended in the air swathed in blue silk, surrounded by greenery, a baton in each hand, held in the gaze of monsters and angels.
Silvio lets out a little laugh, nipping at his lower lip for a second and raising his brows. Flicking the card between his fingers, he begins to pace, unable to keep the restless energy in him still any longer.
“The World. Completion, accomplishment, fulfillment.
“My new home is my old home. My debut here is also a return to where I began. I’ve come full circle. And this?”
He holds the card up again.
“This has my future written all over it in more ways than one, because the World? That’s precisely what I’m coming for. I’m going to get that belt and I’m going to make it the only World Title anyone should care about having. Why? Because this roster and I are the most compelling fighters out there, and wearing a crown from this court makes you royalty every other wrestler working today needs to step aside for. You will not find anyone doing what we do and telling the stories we tell anywhere else. You’re certainly welcome to settle if you’re too anxious to be among the best. I’m in my hometown with the greats in the business, so I get it – it’s intimidating. But I still believe in that courage of yours. I still believe you’re strong enough to reach for something better than where you’re at right now. I’m building my legacy here; building my own world. I will be a king by conquest. I am the sword and the scepter. Where I am is the place to be, I’m about to prove that to everyone, and woe betide anyone who thinks they can fucking stop me.
“And if you’ve got a problem with that? If you think your promotion holds a candle to this conflagration? If you honestly think the gold around your waist is anything more than what it actually is – a cute little affectation that holds as much weight as a feather? If you’re a big fish in a small pond who’s proud of themselves for swallowing minnows and resents being called out for their fear of the ocean? If right about now you’re wanting to shut my mouth?”
Smirking, he tucks the deck away before lifting one hand and flicking his fingers toward himself in a, ‘bring it,’ gesture.
“Consider the invitation open. But watch carefully. What I’m going to do to Hot Dropkick is just the beginning, and I’m not holding back.”
The wind rises, ruffling Silvio’s hair and sending the ivy around him rustling. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to savor it before looking back at the camera.
“Welcome to Ascended. You’re about to witness the dawn of something great, and if you want to be a part of it? Well…it’s like they say. Fortune favors the bold.” He winks, smiling. “I’ll see you at Collision.”
oracularmysteries 