Post by Duncan Ryder on Jul 17, 2022 18:40:06 GMT -5
Shepard didn’t need the warning signs from his armour’s biomonitors to know that he was in bad shape but they flashed up on the inside of his helmet regardless. The armour had kept him alive but it didn’t make him invincible. Despite its protection the blows from the four people around him had left him with contusions and bone fractures he wouldn’t know the extent of until he could get a proper examination. That required him to get away from them though. That required that he survive.
Another blow knocked him to his knees. As Shepard looked up though the four were gathered around him.
“He’s done,” said the krogan.
“Not yet he’s not,” said the Eclipse Asari. She smiled sweetly, as she raised a fist that swirled with biotic power. She struck down at Shepard.
The blow didn’t land. The Asari’s wrist had been caught by the Cerberus agent. “What’re you doing?” said the woman in the black and white armour.
“Ending this,” the Asari snapped back, snatching her arm back.
“Who said it was yours to end?” said the krogan.
“I had friends on the Archimedes raid,” the Asari spat.
“We all did,” said the Blue Son.
“So what? We came here to kill him so let’s kill him,” said the Asari. She raised her hand again but again the blow didn’t fall, the asari did. The Cerberus agent swept her legs out from beneath her. Before the asari could recover the Cerberus agent had drawn a blade. She thrust it towards Shepard’s neck but again a killing blow didn’t land. Shepard was almost deafened by the blast of a shotgun being fired over his head. The Cerberus agent was thrown backwards in a flash of kinetic shielding. The Blue Son had a pistol in her hand lighting quick and pressed it against the krogan’s helmet.
“Stop,” she commanded.
“Or what?”
“I have a gun to your head. Are all krogan this stupid?”
The krogan laughed, “not stupid. Just not afraid of your puny weapon.” The krogan swept his shotgun up to bat the pistol aside but wasn’t quick enough to stop her getting a shot off. It ricocheted off the side of his helmet as the weapon was knocked out of the Blue Sun’s hand. The shot stunned the krogan long enough for the Blue Sun to grab at his shotgun and the two of them stumbled out of Shepard’s vision, grappling over the weapon.
Tuesday July 5th, Wailuku, HI
Duncan could feel his blood pounding in his ears but louder than that he could hear his music playing. That meant that he was victorious. That was all that mattered.
Someone handed him his championship and Duncan snatched it out of their grasp. He fell back, clutching it tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes against the blinding lights and listened. He heard the roar of the fans and his music- “but you’ll never be better than Commander Shepard.” He smiled. For another day that was true.
Duncan rolled onto his side and up to one knee. He loosened his grip on the Final Boss championship enough that he could look at it. Sixteen competitors had fought for the chance to get to him, four of those had done so and he had turned them all away. This was his and he had no intentions of letting that change. He kissed the belt then got to his feet.
He watched Catalina Cortes limp away. Part of him threatened to register guilt at the sight but he stamped the thought out. Why should he feel bad about this? Catalina or ISAAC, Jack or Sloane would all have done the same to him if they’d had a chance. They all wanted to take what he had worked for and he had done what he had had to do to send them packing. He had done what was best for Level Up. He had done what was best for the title.
He had done what he had had to and he wasn’t going to apologise to anybody for it.
You lived to fight another day. Barely. You had to stoop to levels you once said you wouldn’t stoop to. How much longer do you think you can keep this up? How much lower will you be willing to stoop to do so?
Shepard got to his feet. Around him the representatives of the Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack and Cerberus had beaten each other senseless. In their desire to be the one that landed the killing blow that would end the story of Commander Shepard they may well have cost themselves the chance to end it at all.
As Shepard straightened up it was the representative from the Blue Suns that peeled herself off the ground to engage him. Both were unsteady on their feet but they limped towards one another. When they got into arm’s reach the Blue Sun grabbed Shepard and pulled his head down into a front facelock. Shepard lashed out with a kick to the Blue Sun’s knee that staggered her. With the moment of breathing room Shepard charged and tackled her. He threw down punches, armoured gauntlets bouncing off the Blue Sun’s helmet with concussive force. She kicked Shepard off and got back to her feet, still favouring the leg Shepard had struck. The two drew close again. Each was too exhausted to fight with skill or finesse, this fight would come down to instinct and brutality. When the opportunity presented itself Shepard lashed out at the mercenary’s knee again and it buckled. Shepard grabbed the Blue Sun by the head and slammed it into the ground until he heard the sound of armour cracking.
He pushed back to his feet again. No one else moved to stop him. They had had their chance but as ever, when the dust settled, it was Commander Shepard that stood tall.
Tuesday July 12th, Sonoran Desert, AZ
Duncan had arrived late to Wrestlestock, if you considered missing the first day to be late. It had been a last minute decision to make the trip. He had no particular reason to be there. He had no interest in trying to defend his Wrestlestock Cup victory or throw himself into the mix for District Conquest and Level Up had no organised presence at the event this year. That was perhaps why Duncan had chosen to go. He had attended the event on many occasions but the festivities were always tinged by a sense of tension or pressure, most often followed by aching disappointment. This year was different though, he was going to go as a fan.
He had arrived late Monday night and the nature of his journey, arrival and accommodation made it clear how his life had changed in the year since he had been here last. Previously it had taken him three days to drive across the country. He arrived sweating and exhausted with the very vehicle he had transported him also serving as his home for the week, where he would spend several nights failing to sleep in the suffocating sun heated metal box.
This year he had enjoyed a short haul flight, followed by a journey in an air conditioned rental car to his accommodation, a spacious, well ventilated bell tent where he had laid down to a comfortable eight hours of sleep. The difference a year could make.
Duncan was awoken by the unconscious awareness of the increasing brightness of the light outside. No sooner were his eyes open then his stomach protested its emptiness and forced him to his feet. Minutes later he was dressed, covered in sunscreen and ventured out into Wrestlestockopolis.
Wrestlestock was always a strange phenomenon. In many ways it always felt the same, familiar, comfortable, but in just as many ways it was always different. It was like waking up in your hometown and going out only to find that while most of the places you knew were still there, someone had shuffled them all around and a bunch of new places had mysteriously popped up overnight. Duncan walked around for about an hour, such was the challenge of finding something to eat that wasn’t meat, egg or dairy based. It was frustrating but it gave him a chance to explore. He noted familiar locations like the Astro Creeps Drive-in Movie Theatre and the Piercing Media District. He made a pointed note of where the Devil’s District was set up so as best to avoid it. Not for any animosity towards its purveyors but for the temptations the area afforded and the trouble that would inevitably arise from there when the sun went down. He noted with some pleasure the absence of a Bubblegum District this year, once again not personal but rooted in unpleasant previous experiences. He still occasionally found a fleck of glitter on some hard to reach part of his body and couldn’t help but wonder if it had been there the whole of the past twelve months. He also happily noted the apparent absence of an Oasis. That one was personal.
Duncan’s wanderings eventually brought him to Black Ice Climate Racing. There he found a food stall that served him a fakon and scrambled tofu sandwich and a coconut milk iced latte and he set himself down on a bench made to resemble the rear wing of a racing car as he ate and watched people ride go karts around a winter themed track that looked like something out of Mario Kart.
Duncan sat there contently until someone approached him. Two people actually, guys Duncan figured were in their early to mid-twenties. They walked very purposefully into his eyeline, keen to draw his attention.
“Yo, you’re Duncan Shepard right?” one of them asked as Duncan momentarily made eye contact with him.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
The friend who had spoken slapped the back of his hand against his friend’s chest, “I told you it was him.”
“You guys having a good time?” Duncan asked.
“Yeah man. Wrestlestock is always crazy.”
Duncan rolled his eyes a little, “can’t argue with that,” he said knowingly.
“Are you in the Cup again this year? My friend here doesn’t watch Level Up. I’ve been telling him to but he keeps making dumb excuses not to.”
“I don’t have time,” the friend protested.
“See. Maybe he’ll look if I can get him to watch one of your matches live though.”
Duncan shook his head, “no, no matches for me this week. I’m just here as a fan like you guys.”
“Ah, that sucks. Can we get a picture though?”
“Of course,” Duncan said. He shuffled to the edge of the bench so the two of them could sit down and they each took out their phones, angling them to try to get the three of themselves in shot. “Just a second,” Duncan said as he reached into his bag and withdrew the Final Boss Championship.
“Oh shit,” said guy one, “is that real?”
“Real as it gets. Wanna hold it?”
“For real?”
“Yeah, take it, get it in shot.”
The two guys respectfully took the championship out of Duncan’s grip and held it up between them as they snapped off a series of pictures. Once they seemed happy they got up and handed the belt back to Duncan.
“Yo, thanks. I’ve never held a real title belt before.”
“My pleasure. You guys have a great week.”
“You too,” the two guys made to walk away but before they could one stopped and turned back, “oh and uh, I’m sorry your girlfriend dumped you for Buster Gloves.”
It was said with sincerity. There was no doubt in Duncan’s mind that the guy genuinely meant it. Duncan should have just thanked him for the sentiment and let them move on but that’s not what he did. He subconsciously decided to be a jackass instead.
“What girlfriend?”
“Um, Emily Simms,” the guy said hesitantly. It seemed clear he could tell that he had touched a nerve but it was too late to back out now.
“She wasn’t my girlfriend. She never has been. We were just friends. We are friends.” Duncan said with a much less welcoming tone than the rest of the conversation had taken place in.
“Oh, my bad.”
“And I’m pretty tired of people just assuming that we’re a couple. It’s twenty twenty-two, can’t a man and a woman be seen in public without people assuming they’re fucking?”
“I guess, I just, I read online-”
“Oh and you believe everything you read online?”
“Um, no.”
“No, so you don’t need to apologise to me because Emily, who is her own woman, is involved with some guy. It doesn’t matter to me at all. She can do what she wants. I don’t care.”
“Right. Sorry bro,” the guy said and nudged his friend, clearly suggesting that he’d like to make a hasty exit from the painfully awkward turn the interaction had taken.
Duncan watched them go. He didn’t say anything, just sat and felt awful. Seeing Emily and Buster on the monitor at Super Adventure Island as he had been preparing for one of the toughest matches of his career, it hurt. He wasn’t OK. At that moment he wasn’t sure when or how or if he was ever going to be.
He reached down and tucked the championship back into his bag then stood up and walked away with his head down and his shoulders hunched. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling up to the festivities.
They do always say you should never meet your heroes don’t they. That’s the point that people realise you’re really not the galaxy saving hero you mimic on TV. You’re just some guy, just as flawed and messed up in the head as they are. Probably more so in your case.
No wonder Emily went and found someone better.
Saturday July 16th, Sonoran Desert, AZ
It was hot in the yurt, despite the air conditioning unit in the corner of the room. It looked like it was old enough to buy its own alcohol and was close to breaking down after what was most likely coming up to six days of constant use. Duncan had gotten used to it by now though, himself on his fifth day at the festival.
He sat at a small foldout table that was covered in sound and broadcasting equipment and a laptop and was wearing a bulky pair of headphones. Beside him was a bald Canadian who at this point had become familiar to most of the wrestling world. From the glassy look in the eyes of Danny Danger, Duncan suspected that the heat wasn’t the only reason the man was baked.
They sat on the same side of the table but angled so they could have a conversation while both still facing out, broadly speaking, towards the crowds passing through the Johncast District.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said Danny, speaking into a microphone standing on the table, “this is the Johncast, coming to you from day six of UGWC Wrestlestock twenty twenty-two. We are broadcasting live across Wrestlestockopolis as well as Spotify and anywhere else you get your podcasts from, from the Johncast District-”
“AKA, the Danger Zone,” Duncan interjected, putting on his best deep overly dramatic voice.
“And that voice you just heard is my next guest. It’s my pleasure to introduce a special guest to the show, Level Up Wrestling Final Boss Champion and proud client of Hitmaker-Yamazaki Enterprises, Commander Duncan Shepard!”
The small crowd that was gathered outside the yurt applauded politely.
“Mr. Shepard, Commander sir,” said Danny, “thanks for joining me. Before we get into it, I wanted to ask, what have been your highlights of Wrestlestock so far?”
“Apart from getting to meet so many great fans? It's got to have been watching the Wrestlestock Open matches, especially watching fellow Hitmaker-Yamazaki Enterprises client JC defeat Larry Tact earlier today.”
“That was a great match and it’s always good to see Haterboard regular Larry Tact take a beating. You’re here now though to talk about another match though, your upcoming contest with Lord Raab at EXP 28.”
“That’s right, because Wrestlestock may almost be over but professional wrestling never stops,” Duncan shuffled, making sure he was comfortable, knowing he was about to go on a tirade, “I’ve met a lot of people this week, I’ve been asked a lot of questions but the one I’ve been asked the most is this, why is your match with Lord Raab not for the Final Boss title? Well, to quote Johnny Hitmaker, let me make one thing perfectly clear, it’s not because I’m afraid of Lord Raab, it’s because of the simple fact that Lord Raab doesn’t deserve it.”
“You see, after I won the Final Boss Championship I promised that I would bring prestige to the title, that I would put it alongside any championship in the world. I said I’d do that by being a fighting champion and I have been. I didn’t wait to be told when to defend the title. I went down to the ring and put it on the line but this seems to be the problem. I’m holding up my end of the agreement. I’m defending my title and I’m doing it with honour but any reign, no matter how long, is no better than the quality of its challengers. But in these first sixty-eight days of my reign as Final Boss Champion it feels like title shots have been being handed out like fun sized candy bars on Halloween. It seems like all anyone has to do is show up at the door and you get a shot at the champion.”
“Eli Goode got his shot because I handed it to him. Sloane Taylor, Catalina Cortes, Jack Sullivan, ISAAC, all got their shots because the Developer decided the best people to take me on were wrestlings who weren’t even in the company when I won the title. I earned my shot by excelling as the first ever Power Champion, by not being pinned from EXP 7 to Final Fantasy, by winning the Last of Us, by being undefeated this year. Now, none of my challengers had so much as held any one of TriForce titles at the time of getting their shot at me. Already now people are being lined up for title shots at TriForce Heroes who’ve done nothing in Level Up to prove that they deserve it. So why would I hand out a title shot to Lord Raab while he’s coming off a loss at Super Adventure Island? I’ll fight whoever I’m told to fight. I’ll beat whoever I have to beat. I don’t care if I have to defend this title on every show and twice on Pay-Per-Views as long as the challengers who are being thrown to me are worthy of the opportunity. The free rides end now.”
“Here’s what I’ll do though Danny. Out of the respect I do have for Lord Raab I’ll make this match a title…eliminator. If Lord Raab can beat me, in four days time at EXP 28, at the Grand Sports Arena in Hoffman Estates, Illinois and streaming live and exclusively on Twitch, then I will guarantee him a shot at the Final Boss Championship at EXP 29.”
“And that’s a scoop!” said Danny enthusiastically, “you heard it here first folks. Breaking News! Denzel Porter, eat your heart out.”
“I’m not worried about that happening though Danny. Lord Raab may be big but you know who else is big? Me. Lord Raab may be strong but you know who else is strong? Me. And besides that I’m faster, smarter and more technically proficient than that lumbering oaf has ever been on his best day and ever will be until the day he departs this mortal plain. There’s no weapon in Lord Raab arsenal that I haven’t faced before, no move I don’t know how to counter. He has no strategy that I don’t know how to overcome. I remain undefeated in twenty twenty-two. When EXP 28 is over I will still be undefeated and I will still be waiting for someone, anyone, in the Level Up locker room to separate themselves from the pack. Combat Evolved is coming and in the next three shows someone has to show that they and they alone deserve to stand across from me in the main event of Level Up’s next big Pay-Per-View show but I’ll tell you this, I’m not betting on it being Lord Raab. At EXP 28 I’m going to pin Raab’s shoulders to the mat and send him even further back in the line than he already is.”
Duncan got out of his seat and took off his headset but held the microphone to his mouth.
“Danny, cut the feed,” he said, then discarded the headset onto the table as he walked out of the yurt.
This could turn really embarrassing really fast. Good luck jackass.
Another blow knocked him to his knees. As Shepard looked up though the four were gathered around him.
“He’s done,” said the krogan.
“Not yet he’s not,” said the Eclipse Asari. She smiled sweetly, as she raised a fist that swirled with biotic power. She struck down at Shepard.
The blow didn’t land. The Asari’s wrist had been caught by the Cerberus agent. “What’re you doing?” said the woman in the black and white armour.
“Ending this,” the Asari snapped back, snatching her arm back.
“Who said it was yours to end?” said the krogan.
“I had friends on the Archimedes raid,” the Asari spat.
“We all did,” said the Blue Son.
“So what? We came here to kill him so let’s kill him,” said the Asari. She raised her hand again but again the blow didn’t fall, the asari did. The Cerberus agent swept her legs out from beneath her. Before the asari could recover the Cerberus agent had drawn a blade. She thrust it towards Shepard’s neck but again a killing blow didn’t land. Shepard was almost deafened by the blast of a shotgun being fired over his head. The Cerberus agent was thrown backwards in a flash of kinetic shielding. The Blue Son had a pistol in her hand lighting quick and pressed it against the krogan’s helmet.
“Stop,” she commanded.
“Or what?”
“I have a gun to your head. Are all krogan this stupid?”
The krogan laughed, “not stupid. Just not afraid of your puny weapon.” The krogan swept his shotgun up to bat the pistol aside but wasn’t quick enough to stop her getting a shot off. It ricocheted off the side of his helmet as the weapon was knocked out of the Blue Sun’s hand. The shot stunned the krogan long enough for the Blue Sun to grab at his shotgun and the two of them stumbled out of Shepard’s vision, grappling over the weapon.
Tuesday July 5th, Wailuku, HI
Duncan could feel his blood pounding in his ears but louder than that he could hear his music playing. That meant that he was victorious. That was all that mattered.
Someone handed him his championship and Duncan snatched it out of their grasp. He fell back, clutching it tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes against the blinding lights and listened. He heard the roar of the fans and his music- “but you’ll never be better than Commander Shepard.” He smiled. For another day that was true.
Duncan rolled onto his side and up to one knee. He loosened his grip on the Final Boss championship enough that he could look at it. Sixteen competitors had fought for the chance to get to him, four of those had done so and he had turned them all away. This was his and he had no intentions of letting that change. He kissed the belt then got to his feet.
He watched Catalina Cortes limp away. Part of him threatened to register guilt at the sight but he stamped the thought out. Why should he feel bad about this? Catalina or ISAAC, Jack or Sloane would all have done the same to him if they’d had a chance. They all wanted to take what he had worked for and he had done what he had had to do to send them packing. He had done what was best for Level Up. He had done what was best for the title.
He had done what he had had to and he wasn’t going to apologise to anybody for it.
You lived to fight another day. Barely. You had to stoop to levels you once said you wouldn’t stoop to. How much longer do you think you can keep this up? How much lower will you be willing to stoop to do so?
Shepard got to his feet. Around him the representatives of the Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack and Cerberus had beaten each other senseless. In their desire to be the one that landed the killing blow that would end the story of Commander Shepard they may well have cost themselves the chance to end it at all.
As Shepard straightened up it was the representative from the Blue Suns that peeled herself off the ground to engage him. Both were unsteady on their feet but they limped towards one another. When they got into arm’s reach the Blue Sun grabbed Shepard and pulled his head down into a front facelock. Shepard lashed out with a kick to the Blue Sun’s knee that staggered her. With the moment of breathing room Shepard charged and tackled her. He threw down punches, armoured gauntlets bouncing off the Blue Sun’s helmet with concussive force. She kicked Shepard off and got back to her feet, still favouring the leg Shepard had struck. The two drew close again. Each was too exhausted to fight with skill or finesse, this fight would come down to instinct and brutality. When the opportunity presented itself Shepard lashed out at the mercenary’s knee again and it buckled. Shepard grabbed the Blue Sun by the head and slammed it into the ground until he heard the sound of armour cracking.
He pushed back to his feet again. No one else moved to stop him. They had had their chance but as ever, when the dust settled, it was Commander Shepard that stood tall.
Tuesday July 12th, Sonoran Desert, AZ
Duncan had arrived late to Wrestlestock, if you considered missing the first day to be late. It had been a last minute decision to make the trip. He had no particular reason to be there. He had no interest in trying to defend his Wrestlestock Cup victory or throw himself into the mix for District Conquest and Level Up had no organised presence at the event this year. That was perhaps why Duncan had chosen to go. He had attended the event on many occasions but the festivities were always tinged by a sense of tension or pressure, most often followed by aching disappointment. This year was different though, he was going to go as a fan.
He had arrived late Monday night and the nature of his journey, arrival and accommodation made it clear how his life had changed in the year since he had been here last. Previously it had taken him three days to drive across the country. He arrived sweating and exhausted with the very vehicle he had transported him also serving as his home for the week, where he would spend several nights failing to sleep in the suffocating sun heated metal box.
This year he had enjoyed a short haul flight, followed by a journey in an air conditioned rental car to his accommodation, a spacious, well ventilated bell tent where he had laid down to a comfortable eight hours of sleep. The difference a year could make.
Duncan was awoken by the unconscious awareness of the increasing brightness of the light outside. No sooner were his eyes open then his stomach protested its emptiness and forced him to his feet. Minutes later he was dressed, covered in sunscreen and ventured out into Wrestlestockopolis.
Wrestlestock was always a strange phenomenon. In many ways it always felt the same, familiar, comfortable, but in just as many ways it was always different. It was like waking up in your hometown and going out only to find that while most of the places you knew were still there, someone had shuffled them all around and a bunch of new places had mysteriously popped up overnight. Duncan walked around for about an hour, such was the challenge of finding something to eat that wasn’t meat, egg or dairy based. It was frustrating but it gave him a chance to explore. He noted familiar locations like the Astro Creeps Drive-in Movie Theatre and the Piercing Media District. He made a pointed note of where the Devil’s District was set up so as best to avoid it. Not for any animosity towards its purveyors but for the temptations the area afforded and the trouble that would inevitably arise from there when the sun went down. He noted with some pleasure the absence of a Bubblegum District this year, once again not personal but rooted in unpleasant previous experiences. He still occasionally found a fleck of glitter on some hard to reach part of his body and couldn’t help but wonder if it had been there the whole of the past twelve months. He also happily noted the apparent absence of an Oasis. That one was personal.
Duncan’s wanderings eventually brought him to Black Ice Climate Racing. There he found a food stall that served him a fakon and scrambled tofu sandwich and a coconut milk iced latte and he set himself down on a bench made to resemble the rear wing of a racing car as he ate and watched people ride go karts around a winter themed track that looked like something out of Mario Kart.
Duncan sat there contently until someone approached him. Two people actually, guys Duncan figured were in their early to mid-twenties. They walked very purposefully into his eyeline, keen to draw his attention.
“Yo, you’re Duncan Shepard right?” one of them asked as Duncan momentarily made eye contact with him.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
The friend who had spoken slapped the back of his hand against his friend’s chest, “I told you it was him.”
“You guys having a good time?” Duncan asked.
“Yeah man. Wrestlestock is always crazy.”
Duncan rolled his eyes a little, “can’t argue with that,” he said knowingly.
“Are you in the Cup again this year? My friend here doesn’t watch Level Up. I’ve been telling him to but he keeps making dumb excuses not to.”
“I don’t have time,” the friend protested.
“See. Maybe he’ll look if I can get him to watch one of your matches live though.”
Duncan shook his head, “no, no matches for me this week. I’m just here as a fan like you guys.”
“Ah, that sucks. Can we get a picture though?”
“Of course,” Duncan said. He shuffled to the edge of the bench so the two of them could sit down and they each took out their phones, angling them to try to get the three of themselves in shot. “Just a second,” Duncan said as he reached into his bag and withdrew the Final Boss Championship.
“Oh shit,” said guy one, “is that real?”
“Real as it gets. Wanna hold it?”
“For real?”
“Yeah, take it, get it in shot.”
The two guys respectfully took the championship out of Duncan’s grip and held it up between them as they snapped off a series of pictures. Once they seemed happy they got up and handed the belt back to Duncan.
“Yo, thanks. I’ve never held a real title belt before.”
“My pleasure. You guys have a great week.”
“You too,” the two guys made to walk away but before they could one stopped and turned back, “oh and uh, I’m sorry your girlfriend dumped you for Buster Gloves.”
It was said with sincerity. There was no doubt in Duncan’s mind that the guy genuinely meant it. Duncan should have just thanked him for the sentiment and let them move on but that’s not what he did. He subconsciously decided to be a jackass instead.
“What girlfriend?”
“Um, Emily Simms,” the guy said hesitantly. It seemed clear he could tell that he had touched a nerve but it was too late to back out now.
“She wasn’t my girlfriend. She never has been. We were just friends. We are friends.” Duncan said with a much less welcoming tone than the rest of the conversation had taken place in.
“Oh, my bad.”
“And I’m pretty tired of people just assuming that we’re a couple. It’s twenty twenty-two, can’t a man and a woman be seen in public without people assuming they’re fucking?”
“I guess, I just, I read online-”
“Oh and you believe everything you read online?”
“Um, no.”
“No, so you don’t need to apologise to me because Emily, who is her own woman, is involved with some guy. It doesn’t matter to me at all. She can do what she wants. I don’t care.”
“Right. Sorry bro,” the guy said and nudged his friend, clearly suggesting that he’d like to make a hasty exit from the painfully awkward turn the interaction had taken.
Duncan watched them go. He didn’t say anything, just sat and felt awful. Seeing Emily and Buster on the monitor at Super Adventure Island as he had been preparing for one of the toughest matches of his career, it hurt. He wasn’t OK. At that moment he wasn’t sure when or how or if he was ever going to be.
He reached down and tucked the championship back into his bag then stood up and walked away with his head down and his shoulders hunched. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling up to the festivities.
They do always say you should never meet your heroes don’t they. That’s the point that people realise you’re really not the galaxy saving hero you mimic on TV. You’re just some guy, just as flawed and messed up in the head as they are. Probably more so in your case.
No wonder Emily went and found someone better.
Saturday July 16th, Sonoran Desert, AZ
It was hot in the yurt, despite the air conditioning unit in the corner of the room. It looked like it was old enough to buy its own alcohol and was close to breaking down after what was most likely coming up to six days of constant use. Duncan had gotten used to it by now though, himself on his fifth day at the festival.
He sat at a small foldout table that was covered in sound and broadcasting equipment and a laptop and was wearing a bulky pair of headphones. Beside him was a bald Canadian who at this point had become familiar to most of the wrestling world. From the glassy look in the eyes of Danny Danger, Duncan suspected that the heat wasn’t the only reason the man was baked.
They sat on the same side of the table but angled so they could have a conversation while both still facing out, broadly speaking, towards the crowds passing through the Johncast District.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said Danny, speaking into a microphone standing on the table, “this is the Johncast, coming to you from day six of UGWC Wrestlestock twenty twenty-two. We are broadcasting live across Wrestlestockopolis as well as Spotify and anywhere else you get your podcasts from, from the Johncast District-”
“AKA, the Danger Zone,” Duncan interjected, putting on his best deep overly dramatic voice.
“And that voice you just heard is my next guest. It’s my pleasure to introduce a special guest to the show, Level Up Wrestling Final Boss Champion and proud client of Hitmaker-Yamazaki Enterprises, Commander Duncan Shepard!”
The small crowd that was gathered outside the yurt applauded politely.
“Mr. Shepard, Commander sir,” said Danny, “thanks for joining me. Before we get into it, I wanted to ask, what have been your highlights of Wrestlestock so far?”
“Apart from getting to meet so many great fans? It's got to have been watching the Wrestlestock Open matches, especially watching fellow Hitmaker-Yamazaki Enterprises client JC defeat Larry Tact earlier today.”
“That was a great match and it’s always good to see Haterboard regular Larry Tact take a beating. You’re here now though to talk about another match though, your upcoming contest with Lord Raab at EXP 28.”
“That’s right, because Wrestlestock may almost be over but professional wrestling never stops,” Duncan shuffled, making sure he was comfortable, knowing he was about to go on a tirade, “I’ve met a lot of people this week, I’ve been asked a lot of questions but the one I’ve been asked the most is this, why is your match with Lord Raab not for the Final Boss title? Well, to quote Johnny Hitmaker, let me make one thing perfectly clear, it’s not because I’m afraid of Lord Raab, it’s because of the simple fact that Lord Raab doesn’t deserve it.”
“You see, after I won the Final Boss Championship I promised that I would bring prestige to the title, that I would put it alongside any championship in the world. I said I’d do that by being a fighting champion and I have been. I didn’t wait to be told when to defend the title. I went down to the ring and put it on the line but this seems to be the problem. I’m holding up my end of the agreement. I’m defending my title and I’m doing it with honour but any reign, no matter how long, is no better than the quality of its challengers. But in these first sixty-eight days of my reign as Final Boss Champion it feels like title shots have been being handed out like fun sized candy bars on Halloween. It seems like all anyone has to do is show up at the door and you get a shot at the champion.”
“Eli Goode got his shot because I handed it to him. Sloane Taylor, Catalina Cortes, Jack Sullivan, ISAAC, all got their shots because the Developer decided the best people to take me on were wrestlings who weren’t even in the company when I won the title. I earned my shot by excelling as the first ever Power Champion, by not being pinned from EXP 7 to Final Fantasy, by winning the Last of Us, by being undefeated this year. Now, none of my challengers had so much as held any one of TriForce titles at the time of getting their shot at me. Already now people are being lined up for title shots at TriForce Heroes who’ve done nothing in Level Up to prove that they deserve it. So why would I hand out a title shot to Lord Raab while he’s coming off a loss at Super Adventure Island? I’ll fight whoever I’m told to fight. I’ll beat whoever I have to beat. I don’t care if I have to defend this title on every show and twice on Pay-Per-Views as long as the challengers who are being thrown to me are worthy of the opportunity. The free rides end now.”
“Here’s what I’ll do though Danny. Out of the respect I do have for Lord Raab I’ll make this match a title…eliminator. If Lord Raab can beat me, in four days time at EXP 28, at the Grand Sports Arena in Hoffman Estates, Illinois and streaming live and exclusively on Twitch, then I will guarantee him a shot at the Final Boss Championship at EXP 29.”
“And that’s a scoop!” said Danny enthusiastically, “you heard it here first folks. Breaking News! Denzel Porter, eat your heart out.”
“I’m not worried about that happening though Danny. Lord Raab may be big but you know who else is big? Me. Lord Raab may be strong but you know who else is strong? Me. And besides that I’m faster, smarter and more technically proficient than that lumbering oaf has ever been on his best day and ever will be until the day he departs this mortal plain. There’s no weapon in Lord Raab arsenal that I haven’t faced before, no move I don’t know how to counter. He has no strategy that I don’t know how to overcome. I remain undefeated in twenty twenty-two. When EXP 28 is over I will still be undefeated and I will still be waiting for someone, anyone, in the Level Up locker room to separate themselves from the pack. Combat Evolved is coming and in the next three shows someone has to show that they and they alone deserve to stand across from me in the main event of Level Up’s next big Pay-Per-View show but I’ll tell you this, I’m not betting on it being Lord Raab. At EXP 28 I’m going to pin Raab’s shoulders to the mat and send him even further back in the line than he already is.”
Duncan got out of his seat and took off his headset but held the microphone to his mouth.
“Danny, cut the feed,” he said, then discarded the headset onto the table as he walked out of the yurt.
This could turn really embarrassing really fast. Good luck jackass.
Feb. '22 - Jul. '22
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