He was thirty-two years old now. Christ, he was getting old. Excellent skin care and self-pampering prevented his age from showing too much in his face, but he was begin to feel the signs of aging mentally. He was slowing, his mind focusing on settling down.

He rolled over in bed, away from the twenty-something he picked up at the bar, whose name he had completely forgotten.

Okay, so not entirely slowing down. But he was getting there – it was a process.

It was late as he climbed out of bed, pulling back on his pair of briefs as he took his phone and pack of cigs from the nightstand out to the balcony, careful to not wake up…whatever-her-name-was.

Still buzzed from the drinks earlier in the evening, he lit up his cigarette and looked out at the cityscape, palms resting on the railing. It was a beautiful night in a beautiful city, and he had a lot to be thankful for this year. His most recent big project, ”Destiny City: A City Under Threat”, was making waves and getting plenty of replays on the air – which meant all great things for him in various aspects of his life.

Professionally within the studio, it meant a huge bonus, a substantial raise, and producing credits for the segment. He was given more authority and control, able to make more decisions about the broadcast with a more valued opinion – an expertise status on all topics Senshi-related within the local news station. Within the Negaverse it meant great things – a promotion from General-Queen Apatite herself, his long-desired rank of General of the Negaverse. His work was being noted, and he was reaping the benefits of it. And in his personal life, it meant more recognition in the city, more fans, and more women like what’s her name throwing themselves at him.

But it wasn’t random unnamed women that he wanted – it was Chelsea, a woman he knew he couldn’t have. At least, a sober Tag would know he couldn’t have.

He dialed her number without much thought, waiting for an answer…

“Hello?” the voice whispered, groggy and tired.

“Chels?”

“Tag? What are you doing? It’s past midnight,” she complained.

“Oh come on, don’t you know what today is?” he asked.

“Yeah. Happy birthday, Tag,” she gave in.

“I want to see you.”

“You what?”

“I said I want to see you.”

“Now?” she resisted. “I can’t do that.”

“But I’m in love with you.”

The silence was painful.

“Good night, Tag,” was all he received, with the harsher dead silence of the call ********,” he groaned. He took a long drag of the cigarette and exhaled. He was upset and angry with himself – what the ******** was he thinking? She was married to another man, as unavailable as it gets. He chucked the cigarette off the balcony, and nearly the phone, too.

The pieces of his life were all coming together except that one – but lately it felt like the piece most missing.