In the back room of the mysterious Blockbuster Video, Leroy wipes sweat off his brow with a violet handkerchief before stuffing it into the back pocket of his navy Dickies and sighs. He takes up his tools and dives back into the open glass case, clinking and clacking as he continues trying to repair the ancient popcorn machine.
The bolts and springs scattered across the white shop-cloths hint that the world’s last Blockbuster technician has had a long struggle today. The kettle lid pops free, clanging against the glass. Leroy bites back a curse, his fingers tightening around the wrench.
Before he can give up on the infernal machine, the sound of a hinges whining interrupts his frustration.
A utility closet stands in the south corner, its floor hatch now yawning open. Montague emerges, brushing away bits of grime and dust accumulated on his jacket during his trek through the tunnels that house Tragedia’s army of misfits. He pulls out an apple and takes a bite, emerging from the utility closet and into the back room with an easy smile.
Montague: Well well, look who’s tinkering away.
Leroy: Montague! You always know how to make an entrance.
Montague: The curtain never falls, my friend, not while we breathe. I thought I heard you were the only one who could handle a diva like this?
Montague gestures to the disassembled machine with a playful eyebrow raise. Leroy grimaces, running a hand through his thinning hair.
Leroy: This thing’s more stubborn than a mule, let me tell ya. Trying to bring it back from the brink.
The Showman narrows his eyes, appraising the machine without moving any closer.
Leroy: You here for Jacky? She’s out, probably at that town council shindig…
Leroy trails off as Monty moves closer to the machine without speaking. He hooks his fingers under the edge of the machine’s frame with a tenderness, as if afraid of hurting it. Holding with his left hand, he flicks at one of the rubber feet with his right, knocking loose a greasy wad of gray paper. He sets the machine down gently as Leroy moves to unravel the wad, revealing a faded, torn promotional poster for the direct to VHS release of Puppet Master II.
Monty steps back, his face unreadable. He strokes his goatee until finally, a flicker of “Eureka!” crosses his face. He steps up to the counter again and throws open several drawers beneath the popcorn machine.
Rifling through the unorganized collection he pulls out a DVD case with no insert and wedges it beneath the machine. Satisfied, Monty leans in to close the drawer with his hip, but suddenly freezes and turns to hold Leroy’s curious, if patient gaze. Leroy meets his eyes, brows knitting together in the center in a silent question. A slow smile spreads across Monty’s face as he holds up three plastic boxes that resemble old CD jewel cases.
Montague: Remember these?
Leroy leans back with folded arms, straightens up, then steps closer.
Leroy: GD-ROMs.
He chuckles, shaking his head.
Leroy: Three glorious days in the sun before everyone went DVD crazy.
The Mothman places one of the cases down next to the popcorn machine, his fingers lingering on the cover.
Montague: Oscar.
He breathes, his eyes wide with reverence.
Montague: This, my friend, is a lost treasure.
Leroy smiles gently, enjoying Montague’s excitement.
Leroy: I never really saw Sly as any sort of revered lead; what makes this one so special?
The Showman licks his lips, forcing himself to pull his loving gaze away from the GD-ROM cover. Reaching for the apple, he takes another bite as he searches for a way to explain.
Montague: I’m as much a cinephile as anyone, but my first love will always be live performance. It’s raw and precarious, without the benefits of clever editing and location establishment. That’s why, when a film comes along that could easily be improved with a stage adaptation, it carves a special place in my own personal criterion collection.
Leroy: I get it. It means the story and characters are strong enough to stand on their own, even without all the Hollywood bells and whistles.
Montague: Precisely! Reservoir Dogs, The Room, 127 Hours…these stories could be told live, through dynamic talent, with minimal set dressing or special effects. And this…
Monty gives in to the pull of the cover once again.
Montague: But this… Oscar is special. A gem, always overlooked by the dullards of modern cinema. And to find it on GD-ROM!
Leroy: You want it?
The Doctor-Professor blanks, blinking slowly as he rises to meet Leroy’s eyes.
Montague: ¿Es verdad?
Leroy: Sure! I was going to throw those out eventually anyway.
Hugging the case to his chest, Montague’s eyes grow heavy with water for a moment. He blinks them away and clears his throat as he mutters his thanks.
Leroy: Say, if you’re into obsolete media like that, I know a guy who has hundreds of EVDs from China.
Monty’s head tilts a bit as a small, contemplative smile crosses his lips.
Why does Donovan Hastings seem to spend more time in an executive’s office than in the ring? Review the UGWC archives from 2024, and you’ll find him sitting across the desk from the likes of Ooley, Peterson, and Deimos—not lurking like Fear, but boldly holding court as their equal.
And why not? Peterson is practically his mouthpiece in the Consortium, a puppet whose strings Hastings has been yanking for years. But here’s the kicker; the Immortal Lord isn’t content with merely influencing his own path. He’s advising on challengers for other champions as well. And he does so with impunity.
The entire fourth quarter of UGWC programming last year was essentially a Hastings production, and wouldn’t you know it? The year ended with Donovan Hastings as World Champion for the seventh time.
Seven.
And because of his self-serving manipulation, he hovers over the rest of us, ensuring that no one else gets near that milestone without first confronting him.
Does this mean Hastings actually runs UGWC? Is he the shadow puppeteer behind every major decision? Surely not. After all, that would mean his record-breaking success isn’t just the result of his so-called brilliance, but of blatant self-interest and unearned power.
Let me be clear: I don’t deny the man’s talent or his impact. The “Hastingsphere” is a testament to his ability to turn chaos into profit, and UGWC’s innovation owes no small debt to his machinations. But there’s a difference between influencing the industry and rigging it. While he cultivates an image as a shadowy think tank, his tactics are pure Elon Musk, ruthlessly applying selfish pressure. If Donovan Hastings craves power, then he should hang up his boots, sit behind a desk, and channel that intellect into shaping the future of this company—officially.
Instead, he clings to his captain’s hat, steering the ship while claiming he alone knows what’s best for the future. His legacy is already secure, yet, he continues to ensure the spotlight remains fixed on him, no matter the cost to UGWC’s integrity.
Donovan’s already achieved greatness, he doesn’t need to keep stacking the deck. He needs to know when to step aside and let the next act take the stage.
This fixation on a skewed perspective of legacy isn’t unique to Hastings, of course. It’s a plight shared by many of our elder statesmen.
Last week, I had the rare opportunity to tangle with one of those, as fleeting as it seemed with the distractions running about. Just a tease, really, but I trust the result also left Alan wanting more.
The Doctor-Professor recommends raising the stakes.
Why did Wallace accept Sebastian’s challenge? No need for an answer. He’s likely crafted an explanation that barely scratches the surface. Though I’ve had the misfortune of minimal interaction, it has afforded me the benefit of outside observation where Alan is concerned, and what I’ve noticed is that he didn’t truly feel danger to his legacy until Sebastian came knocking for retribution.
Losing to Lucy was one thing, but he’s recovered from a Calamity humbling before, as so many of us have had to. Alan has maintained a sparkling reputation despite it. But if Vain couldn’t go around the bend with Sebastian and come out on top on the biggest stage only one year later? That’s a ding to the ol’ legacy that might not buff out.
And so, he beautifully orchestrated a refresher lesson for the Empire. He’s a chessmaster when the stakes are at their highest, when something he treasures is in danger.
Wallace should combine his passions! There’s a timeworn idiom that says, ‘Your children are your legacy.’ And why shouldn’t they be? No need for his legacy to be split between his highly-decorated history and his growing family—he should bring them along! Let them see the head of the household building the foundation that will secure their future, all while instilling in them the skills and knowledge they’ll need to survive.
Will they face danger if Alan blends these worlds? They will, but it’s clear now—his best emerges when something he cherishes is at risk. And let’s be honest, doesn’t family deserve the best?
It’s unfortunate that we’ll once again have to share, even if it’s with a much more interesting opponent in Donovan, but I hope this is the beginning of a long and complex game.
Will they play along?
