Shadows and Stardust: A Tale of Ambition & Quest for Recognition

I keep a 9-milimeter in my Jeep. What? Peep when I roll, ‘cause I gots to roll deep. Ain’t going out cheep – Ice Cube ‘When Will They Shoot’

Operation Grand Slam (D UNKNOWN)

A pair of round orange foam headphones thumped and vibrated against Estelle’s ears. A stray lock of white hair swayed from side to side as she nodded her head to the beat of the song.

Estelle mouthed the words to the song softly, “The bitch came in wit’ a loaded twenty-two. On your ass trog, I ain’t gonna out like da’ last bitch.”

“Do you realize how…disrespectful this song is?” Bee asked.

She sat back in the chair and turned the volume on her yellow and grey Walkman higher. Estelle looked around at the somewhat empty room and took careful note of the inventory. Six leather chairs, an under-watered palm tree by the door, and a generic corporate motivational poster with the words ‘TEAMWORK’ printed in bold block font letters.

As read the words and the sound fell from her lips, she studied the faded picture of the people on the rowboat. She began to wonder about the people on the boat, and what they did after the picture was taken. Then she began to make up a story in her mind about their lives.

She first picked the man with the megaphone, who she dubbed Megaphone-guy, in the back of the boat since he was the most notable. How after the picture was taken, he went on to be a director of an advertising firm and eventually got married. His wife, who was an avid tennis player, wanted a person who was around more often and had an affair with her coach. After finding out, Megaphone-guy went into a depression and eventually took up gardening to cope with the crippling sadness. Not wanting to end on a sad note, Estelle gave Megaphone-guy a nice ending to the story in which he developed a new breed of roses and planted them around hospitals to make people happy.

When she was satisfied with Megaphone-guy’s story, her thoughts shifted to the next person in the picture.

“I’ll be good if you turn that crap down,” Bee pleaded.

Estelle turned down the volume on her Walkman. Despite sitting at the back of a desk for who knows how long, after T.C. had cleaned up the device, it functioned properly. She took the entire tape collection, mostly mixed tapes, and was slowly going through them. Much to Estelle’s surprise, and Bee’s annoyance, she found that Urban Street Rap was her favorite genre of music.

“I thought you were raised a cultured traditionalist; how can you stand listening to that horrible cacophony?” asked Bee.

“It speaks to me,” Estelle thought as she watched the tape spin around on the reels.

The door opened and a squirrely-looking man with shaved hair on the side and olive-colored skin stepped into the room. He wore shiny black pants and a white button-down shirt with a black tie. He adjusted his half-moon glasses on his thin face and beamed at Estelle. On his shirt was a sticker which was written ‘Hello my name is: Brody’.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked gesturing to the seat directly in front of her.

Estelle lowered the volume even further and looked around the room in an obvious display that the room was empty. She extended her hand and Brody sat down.

“I saw your epic display at Fort Carré,” he said. “Way to smash those traditionalist chumps.”

Estelle stopped the tape with a click and pulled back the earphones.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to manspread into your zone. I’m Brody Zurk from Aerriod Interplanetary. We are looking for Blue teams to sponsor this season,” Brody said. “We have been watching you closely and know who you are. Captain Estelle Thornewood, also known as the White Witch of the Tower. I hope you don’t mind me saying…you slay queen!”

She sat her, her mouth open in silence, unsure which pit of hell she ended up in.

Bee broke the silence and asked, “Can we slay you next?”

Estelle’s right eye twitched as she continued to stare at him.

“I know I can come off as a total alpha, but I assure you queen I’m a total beta, girl boss adjacent,” he said as the waiting room door swung open.

A woman in a navy blue suit and clipboard stuck her head in and waved to Estelle.

“Captain Thornewood…” she started to say.

Estelle jumped to her feet and pushed past her without a glance back.

"I must depart; until our next encounter," Estelle said.

The woman chased behind her clutching her notebook. Mr. Zurk waved back at her with a big grin on his face.

“Captain, you realize that Mr. Zurk is…” the woman said in a mousey voice.

“Not my concern,” Estelle said leaving the room.

The woman followed Estelle and used her key card to access the upper levels of the tower. Once the elevator stopped, the pewter grey elevator doors opened wide. The woman who had escorted Estelle waited as she scanned her clipboard.

The floor was padded with a plush cobalt blue carpet, and the walls were painted sapphire blue. As the light hit the platinum trim that lined the paintings on the wall, Estelle recoiled from the bright light. Once her eyes adjusted to the reflection, she examined the paintings more closely. Among them were a few people she immediately recognized, many of whom were combatants who had retired after the Battle of the Tower.

The placid and stoic expressions painted on the faces hid the fact that several of the gladiators had developed severe mental health issues after that battle. The still eyes stared back at Estelle. As she began to reminisce about their mental struggle, then she reminded herself to focus on her predicament.

Noticing that Estelle didn’t move, the woman pointed to a door at the far end of the room.

"Why didn’t you retire?" Bee asked.

Estelle couldn’t tell if she had genuine concern or was trying to manipulate her. In the end, she decided that Bee wasn’t worth her time.

"There exist rational justifications underpinning my actions, I do not desire to discuss them at present," Estelle thought.

"Don't shut me out, dear. I was merely extending my hand in assistance. Who else could understand you better than someone like me? I, for one, am intimately acquainted with such matters. It's almost amusing how nobody seems to grasp the depth of my detachment except maybe you. I understand your struggle. Please allow me to help."

Estelle ignored her as she pushed the polished gold handles of the door to the far end of the room. The floor of the room was highly reflective white marble, and the walls were complete with windows overlooking Battle City. Estelle held out her foot to test the reflection. The individual ripples of her boot’s sole reflected off the floor like a mirror.

She pushed her dress closer to her legs and scanned the room. A single chair was placed in the middle with a long table closer to the back of the room. Inching towards the center of the room, Estelle sat down and crossed her legs.

"I don’t remember this being here," Bee said. "I’d like to have a word or two with the pervert who had that marble installed."

While Estelle waited, she gazed vacantly through the room-sized windows, observing the flow of the city's populace below. Contrasted with the busy street, wispy white clouds lazily hovering over the harbor. Her attention shifted to a cargo ship nestled somewhere in the distant horizon, prompting questions regarding its cargo, and intended destination. Meanwhile, dock workers bustled about, transferring cargo containers onto land.

Before she could indulge in imaginative musings regarding the individuals bustling at the docks, the door swung open, ushering in two men clad in blue suits and a woman sporting recently dyed brown hair. Estelle couldn’t help but note the subpar quality of the dye job, evident from the missed spots of grey and stray brown stains on the woman’s head. The woman's designer pantsuit hung loosely on her pear-shaped frame. Her oversized jacket reminded Estelle of a designer oven mitt.

Approaching Estelle, the elder of the two men extended his hand, to which Estelle pointed to the floor.

“I would get up, but I wish to maintain my dignity,” Estelle said.

He shook her hand and looked down at the floor. Then patted his double chin and bald head. The woman rolled her eyes as she took her seat.

“The floor is as shiny as my head,” he said smiling.

Estelle forced a smile to her lips which caused her nose to crinkle a bit. As he went to his chair, the second man sat back in his chair and tapped a few buttons on his watch. Estelle looked around the bald man, to get a better look. He had a black goatee, slicked-back hair, and eyes were so dark she couldn’t tell where his iris ended, and pupils began. As he typed away on his watch a recording device appeared on the table.

She sat up in her chair and placed her hands on her knees.

“Please introduce yourself for the record,” the woman said as she pushed a button on the device.

"May I ascertain the identity of the individual and or individuals with whom I am engaging?” asked Estelle.

“We ask the questions here, not you. Now, once more, state your name...for the record,” the woman said again in a firm tone.

Estelle adjusted her fingers and gently drummed them on her knee. She allowed her mind to drive back to the harbor and the cargo ship. What events, the slightest twist of fate brought me here and not as the docks as a sailor?

“Are you going to answer the question?” the woman asked, leaning forward.

“Certainly, upon receipt of a formal query,” Estelle remarked, elevating her demeanor. “Ms. Oven Mitt merely presented a request, rather than an interrogative statement…for the record.”

“Excuse me?” she said standing up.

The bald man snickered then placed his hand in from of Ms. Oven Mitt and sat back down. A faint whiff of confidence reached Estelle’s nose, followed by a layered mix of old lady perfume, irritation, and anger. The bald man’s, who at this point Estelle decided to name him Baldie McBald-Bald till she learned of his name, scent was awash with nervousness and attempt to remain calm.

Mr. Big-Pupil, or Goatee Gary, Estelle couldn’t settle on which name she preferred and settled back in his chair. He stretched his feet out. As he lazily looked out the window at the clouds, Estelle sniffed the air. He exuded no scent.

“Ms. Thornewood,” Baldie McBald-Bald said and patted his forehead with a handkerchief he retrieved from a side pocket. “We are not here to attack you. This is a friendly review.”

“Then proper introductions are in order,” Estelle said, lightening her tone. “I’m Captain Estelle Thornewood, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Don Passo,” the man with the goatee said and gave a half wave of the hand.

Don crossed his feet under the table. Estelle detected the faint smell of foam used to clean overly expensive carpets. Then noticed that Ms. Oven Mitt had turned her head when Don Passo had spoken.

“Upper Management?” Estelle wondered.

"Why, pray tell, do we find Upper Management descending from their lofty Ivory Tower to grace us, mere mortals, with their presence?" inquired Bee with a hint of mocking curiosity.

Estelle tapped her medical alert bracelet. Bee grumbled in reply.

“Sir Winsor, director for outside contracts, endorsements and I sit on the council,” the bald man said.

Ms. Oven Mitt pressed her lips together and clasped her hands over her mouth.

“How may I be of assistance?” asked Estelle.

"I'll get to the point: were you in any way working with Captain Neusilber?" he asked, slumping further in his chair.

Estelle recognized this trick; it was a game her sister and mother used to play with her. No matter how she answered, they would flip it around. She noted the recording device, a particular model designed to detect subtle changes in a person’s temperature, heart rate, and perspiration levels. Such specialized scanning functions were favorites for court depositions and official statements.

“This isn’t a friendly review,” Bee said, feeling's Estelle's thoughts.

Then Estelle cleared her throat.

“No,” Estelle said.

“But you were seen in his presence, by multiple witnesses, do you deny that?” the woman asked.

“No,” Estelle answered.

The woman drummed her fingers on the table loudly shaking the recording device.

“Can you do something?” she asked, glancing at Don Passo. “The witness is being uncooperative.”

Sir Windsor tapped his finger on the desk in front of her hand.

“Counselor Peloso if you don’t mind, calm down,” Windsor said.

"I refuse to be silenced by you or anyone else. Mrs. Thornewood's behavior is indeed disrespectful," she asserted, pointing towards Estelle.

"It's Captain Thornwood. And for the record, once again, Neusilber was under my control, not the other way around, as implied," Estelle said casually, then inspected her fingernails. "He must have been swayed by my beauty and charming demeanor."

Don Passo chuckled lightly, while Counselor Peloso narrowed her gaze and continued to scrutinize Estelle.

Peloso rose from her seat and dynamically placed her hands on the table. Sir Windsor flinched at the sudden movement and attempted to interject, but his voice was drowned out by Peloso's intensity.

"I anticipate that I shall be receiving a promotion, or at the very least, a commendation," Estelle remarked, her hands coming together in a loud clap. "Considering the successful capture of Fort Carré, the strategic maneuver of persuading the commander to assist me, the decisive action in securing the BC airport, and effectively halting the operations of a spy."

“Excuse me?” hissed Peloso. “You should be…”

The door swung open forcefully, crashing against the wall as D. T. Jones entered the room with determined strides, making a beeline for Counselor Peloso, trailed closely by the secretary, who hobbled in keeping her knees close together.

"I...tried to stop her," the secretary said.

“Why is the Tower Witch getting a promotion?” Jones said slamming her hands on the table.

“About that promotion…” Peloso started to say.

"I am gratified by the confirmation. Kindly provide me with the date and time, and I shall modify my schedule accordingly to ensure my presence at the ceremony," Estelle said, rising from her seat and adjusting her dress.

“You promised me that she was going to be stripped of her rank and banned till the end of the season,” Jones shouted.

“I assure you; we are doing everything…” Peloso said, her voice growing louder to match Jones’s voice.

“Ladies…ladies, please calm down,” Windsor said.

Jones's voice reverberated through the room as she began to yell at Peloso, her frustration escalating. In turn, Peloso's agitation mounted, and she directed her screams at Windsor, who attempted to placate both women with frantic gestures, inadvertently worsening the tension.

Observing the escalating conflict, Estelle offered a slight nod and shallow curtsy before exiting the room. As she approached the elevator, Don Passo's hand intercepted the elevator door as it slid open.

“I’m impressed that you managed to dodge your examination,” Passo said in a near whisper.

Estelle stepped under his outstretched arm and placed her hand on her chest.

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you suggest, please enlighten me,” she said in mock surprise.

He stepped closer and bowed his head closer to hers and said, “You’re not popular among Upper Management nor with any of the factions. Success breeds hubris, little girl.”

Estelle pressed the button for the ground floor and gently nudged Passo's arm aside.

"It's only considered hubris when the Ancestors choose to exact punishment. In the meantime, I shall act according to the best judgment," Estelle retorted. "Release the current restrictions, and you may find your desires fulfilled."

“Believe me, we will, and we’ll be waiting for you to fall hard, Captain,” he said as the doors closed.

***