Post by Duncan Ryder on Jul 31, 2022 17:19:53 GMT -5
Tuesday July 19th - Hoffman Estates, IL
With another win in the books and an undefeated streak now set to reach almost six months Duncan returned backstage in relative high spirits. For the moment at least the title belt he currently carried slung over his left shoulder felt the lightest it had since it had come into his possession. Without the pressures of any impending defence he was feeling like he could clear his head, that he could breath. He wanted to make the most of this time because he knew it wouldn’t last. Combat Evolved would be six weeks away and it was only a matter of time until he found out who would be next to challenge him, who would be next to try to tear away the prize he had worked so hard for, the prize only he had truly earned the right to hold.
“He’s right though. Everyone wants to talk big on Twitter but no one is willing to back it up.”
“Of course not. They’re all scared. No one wants to look bad by not sticking up for themselves online but they know that if it comes to it they’ll look even worse when they get their ass kicked for real.”
This was a snippet of conversation Duncan heard between two crew members as he was approaching them on his way past, back towards the locker room.
“I know right, for all the talk they all know he can do it too. Like, who hasn’t Bert beat?”
“Exactly. He’s even beaten Shepard. If you think he didn’t crap his pants as soon as Bert walked back in the door you’re cra-”
The man cut himself off as he finally spotted Duncan draw up close. Duncan didn’t break stride but he made eye contact with the crew member and held it until he was past and the man was out of his eye line without Duncan having to turn anything more than his head.
“Shit, do you think he heard that?”
“Yeah idiot, I think he heard that.”
Duncan didn’t look back, just kept walking until he was back in the locker room but the words kept running through his head. Was that what people thought of him? For all he had done, for everyone he had beaten. He was only two weeks removed from having beaten two former world champions and more on his way to winning the second ever Skeleton Key match, but did people seriously think he was afraid of Bert pissing McAlroy? Maybe it was just two dumb crew members but then, maybe it wasn’t. If the world had proven anything these past years it was that idiocy was more rampant than any time in human history. Perhaps what was best would be to ignore such things. Idiocy was idiocy after all but this was also professional wrestling and your value in the business was only as good as the light in which you are perceived. That settled it, Duncan was going to have to nip such notions in the bud, before they had any chance to bloom.
He stripped out of his ring gear, showered and dressed. He’d find a good place to watch the rest of the show soon but he had a stop to make before he did so.
Duncan hadn’t had much reason to go to Trent Steel, the Developer, since the revelation of his identity at Doom. He certainly hadn’t had the kind of consistent confrontational run-ins that the likes of the Game Changers seemed to have on a regular basis. The two of them seemed to have come to a largely unspoken understanding of their roles in regards to one another and a quiet mutual respect had formed. That said, no matter where any given show was taking place Duncan always made sure to know where he could find the owner of the company should the need arise. Thus far it never had but there was always a first time for everything, so Duncan made his way to the room that for the night was serving as Trent Steel’s office.
He wrapped his knuckles firmly against the door three times.
“Who is it?” replied the voice from inside making no clear attempt to hide an edge of annoyance.
“It’s Shepard,” said Duncan.
“Come-” said Trent but Duncan was already halfway through the door before he could finish, “-in,” He said anyway. “Take a seat.”
“No thanks, this won’t take long. Have you booked EXP 29 yet?” said Duncan, closing the door behind himself then leaning back against it. Trent chuckled for a moment.
“This is why I have loved dealing with you since the beginning, Duncan. You go straight to the point when you want to know something. Nothing on the card is finalised yet,” said Trent. He leant forward with his forearms resting heavily against the edge of the desk. He touched the fingertips of each hand to their opposite counterparts. “You got something specific in mind that you want to go for?”
“Give me McAlroy. I don’t care if he’s only had his scrawny ass back in the door for ten minutes, it’s already time someone knocked some of his teeth out. May as well be me.”
Trent smirked at him, “You know Duncan, just because you’re the Final Boss doesn’t entitle you to come in here and start making demands,” He said firmly. Duncan couldn’t tell what Trent was trying to do. Goad him? Gauge his reaction? It didn’t matter to Duncan.
Duncan gave a nonplussed shrug, “What? Do you want me to say please or do you want to book a match that people are going to tune in to see?”
Trent didn’t say anything right away, just fixed Duncan with a steely gaze. “Very well then,” he said, “but it’ll be a title eliminator.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Duncan with a smirk as he pushed himself back up to stand straight and reached back for the door handle. “See you in a fortnight,” he said as he opened the door and slipped back out of it.
“Are we doing Shakespeare in the-?...” Trent said behind him but the door was already closed. If Duncan would have stuck around he would have heard the boss chuckle.
Later
Duncan sat and watched the rest of the show unfold. He watched the Wisdom title match. He watched Emily Simms be trotted out, dolled up like some kind of trophy and it made him sick.
When the match was over he watched the lights go out and with their return, Emily’s disappearance. He jolted at first as if he were going to shoot up out of his chair but he didn’t. Something screamed inside him that he needed to go out there, to find out what had happened, who had taken her? Was she safe and could he bring her back? He did love her after all, didn’t he?
He settled back into the chair. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. Barely said a word to one another since he’d told her how he felt after Doom. Now she was with Buster and Duncan had only found that out at the same time as the rest of the world, when they decided to suck face live on Pay Per View.
A little warning would have been nice. You deserve that small mercy.
He hadn’t done though and now, seeing Emily disappear like a cheap magic trick, he wondered if maybe it would be good for him if she were gone.
The Void - Endlessly
Shepard awoke with a start from a night of fitful sleep. In his nightmares he saw the salarian, the one from Angelios, the one who had taken the empowered artefact from him, the one he had found dead on Poe’s World. In those dreams Shepard was still on Poe’s World too, standing amid the wreckage and the ruin, the bodies and the blood. He would find the salarian, just as he had found him in reality, dead, laying in a heap on the group, neck snapped beside the void from which the Reaper would emerge. In reality the Salarian had just stared off lifelessly into the middle distance, in the dreams though he picked himself up off the ground. He swung his head to face Shepard, the head hanging limply atop his severed spine and appraised Shepard with its bulbous black eyes and laughed.
“Too late,” it taunted him, “too slow.”
Shepard would lunge at the Salarian in a fit of rage, intent to tear its unnaturally flopping head clean off its shoulder.
That was always when he woke up, with a sharp gasp of air and a jolt that ran through his body. He would find himself sweating and cold and his hands were numb. He would lay back and try to slow his breathing while he clenched and opened his fists to encourage the blood supply to return. Then he would stare up at the ceiling and consider whether it was worth getting out of bed today. He would reach over and grab the personal communication device from his nightstand but there wouldn’t be any messages on it. There never were. Eventually his body would tell him that he was hungry and desperate for a piss and once he had gotten up to do the latter he figured he may as well tend to the former as well. He dispensed himself a portion of protein enriched nutrient gruel. It was the same thing he ate for breakfast everyday. For a long time he had convinced himself he liked it but today, like many days he pushed it around the bowl unenthusiastically despite the protestations of his stomach demanding to be filled. It was good for him, that was why he kept eating it but he had grown tired of it and as he forced it down all he could think of was gorging himself on plates of waffles and chocolate chip pancakes and simply not caring how bad it was for himself. At least he’d enjoy it, however briefly. He thought he would at least, it was becoming harder and harder to tell these days.
He wondered what he would do today. He had nothing he had to do. Nothing he wanted to do. He figured he should go and work out, train, something like that. He didn’t want to. He was sore from the past several days of exertions and tired despite having only just woken up. At least it would feel like he had done something with his day though. At least he would feel something.
He sighed and stared out of the window. He hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when his dreams were of achievement, not failure. He could find joy in the simplest of things. He would daydream of being someone else, someone better, someone to aspire to being, or even simply a better version of himself. Now when he disengaged from the world and let his mind wander he saw only his flaws, his failings and the failings that were still to come.
And the lines between the world of his imagination and reality were becoming ever more difficult to perceive.
Some Day in Some Place - Does it matter?
The camera opens up on Duncan Shepard. He’s wearing his ring gear as usual although for the first time he’s sitting down on a plain black steel folding chair. Nothing is being displayed on any green screen behind him, he’s just sitting, seemingly alone in the dark. At the opening shot Duncan is sat slouched heavily, his head slumped back unsupported and looking uncomfortable. The Final Boss championship belt is laying across his lap. He doesn’t say anything for a while. He doesn’t even raise his head. The first movement he makes is to raise his right hand, his index finger pointed up. It is a gesture not aimed to draw your attention upwards, but to the general surroundings.
Duncan: You hear that?
His voice is flat and disinterested. Now he has drawn your attention though you realise you do hear something. It’s a constant high pitched whine like the sound you may expect from faulty audio equipment or the onset of tinnitus. At first you hadn’t registered it but now that you’ve consciously heard it, you can’t unhear it and it grates on you.
Duncan: That’s you Bert.
Finally Duncan deigns to raise his head and lets it flop forward lazily then glares down the camera from beneath his furrowed brow.
Duncan: Just a constant high pitched whine that everyone wishes would end. Fortunately for them-
With the same hand he had pointed up, Duncan presses his middle finger to his thumb and clicks. With the loud snap of his fingers the tinnitus whine stops abruptly.
Duncan: It will soon.
Duncan lowers his hand and leans forward earnestly. He looks down at his feet and sighs heavily before raising his head to look down the camera again.
Duncan: Or at least it would if you had a shred of dignity, but then every time you seem to open your mouth and throw some baseless accusation or make some preposterous self aggrandising claim it becomes more and more clear that you don’t.
Still leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Duncan picks up one side of the Final Boss title belt so that it drapes down the length of his forearm.
Duncan: I don’t ask much of people. I don’t have some elaborate rider I feel entitled to because I hold this championship. The only thing I do ask is that I receive the same respect that I put out into the world. What I mean is that I expect the likes of Tact to run their mouths. I have no respect for them so I am not so haughty as to expect any in return. You though Bert, you’re not the same as Larry.
Duncan moves the title belt from his lap to his right shoulder and leans back to slouch heavily in the chair again.
Duncan: You’re worse. From the first day I came to Level Up I never treated you with anything but respect. I tried to be your friend and what have I ever received from you in return? Only the same as everyone else, the constant entitled stream of your pompous arrogance. Nothing but running down the names of everyone around you in the name of exalting every one of your most meagre achievements.
Duncan grabs the belt from his shoulder and brandishes it towards the camera aggressively.
Duncan: I cheered for you Bert. While I was coughing up blood and fighting to breathe, someone told me that you had won this title and I cheered for you. Now it’s mine-
Duncan’s expression turns from anger to a mixture of sadness and confusion as he looks down at the belt in his hand.
Duncan: -and you do nothing but spit on everything I have done with this title and everything I did to get here.
Duncan shakes his head slowly and lays the belt back down across his knee.
Duncan: I’m done with you Bert. You have lost every drop of respect I ever had for you. What little I had left for you, that I had for the fact that you briefly held this title-
Duncan lays his right hand on the faceplate of the title.
Duncan: -has been spent on giving you this match, because you don’t deserve it Bert. You were a weak Final Boss just like you were a nothing Courage Champion. Then you were gone and in the time you were away I beat the man you could not, I defended this title twice, at Super Adventure Island I faced the toughest odds a Final Boss champion has ever had to face and won. Do you really think you deserve a shot at this because one day you fell on your ass faster than someone else?
Duncan smirked, the closest we’ve seen to a positive emotion since he started speaking.
Duncan: You try to brush me off as a pretender when I have already outshone you. I wonder if you even possess the self awareness to know how ridiculous you sound. It doesn’t matter though. It ends this week. It ends with me breaking you down and showing the world that you’re not on my level and you never have been. You’re not the greatest to ever do it, just one of the luckiest, but as all luck does in time, yours has just run out.
Duncan looks off to the side of the camera and draws his thumb in a cutting motion across his throat.
Duncan: Cut it.
With another win in the books and an undefeated streak now set to reach almost six months Duncan returned backstage in relative high spirits. For the moment at least the title belt he currently carried slung over his left shoulder felt the lightest it had since it had come into his possession. Without the pressures of any impending defence he was feeling like he could clear his head, that he could breath. He wanted to make the most of this time because he knew it wouldn’t last. Combat Evolved would be six weeks away and it was only a matter of time until he found out who would be next to challenge him, who would be next to try to tear away the prize he had worked so hard for, the prize only he had truly earned the right to hold.
“He’s right though. Everyone wants to talk big on Twitter but no one is willing to back it up.”
“Of course not. They’re all scared. No one wants to look bad by not sticking up for themselves online but they know that if it comes to it they’ll look even worse when they get their ass kicked for real.”
This was a snippet of conversation Duncan heard between two crew members as he was approaching them on his way past, back towards the locker room.
“I know right, for all the talk they all know he can do it too. Like, who hasn’t Bert beat?”
“Exactly. He’s even beaten Shepard. If you think he didn’t crap his pants as soon as Bert walked back in the door you’re cra-”
The man cut himself off as he finally spotted Duncan draw up close. Duncan didn’t break stride but he made eye contact with the crew member and held it until he was past and the man was out of his eye line without Duncan having to turn anything more than his head.
“Shit, do you think he heard that?”
“Yeah idiot, I think he heard that.”
Duncan didn’t look back, just kept walking until he was back in the locker room but the words kept running through his head. Was that what people thought of him? For all he had done, for everyone he had beaten. He was only two weeks removed from having beaten two former world champions and more on his way to winning the second ever Skeleton Key match, but did people seriously think he was afraid of Bert pissing McAlroy? Maybe it was just two dumb crew members but then, maybe it wasn’t. If the world had proven anything these past years it was that idiocy was more rampant than any time in human history. Perhaps what was best would be to ignore such things. Idiocy was idiocy after all but this was also professional wrestling and your value in the business was only as good as the light in which you are perceived. That settled it, Duncan was going to have to nip such notions in the bud, before they had any chance to bloom.
He stripped out of his ring gear, showered and dressed. He’d find a good place to watch the rest of the show soon but he had a stop to make before he did so.
Duncan hadn’t had much reason to go to Trent Steel, the Developer, since the revelation of his identity at Doom. He certainly hadn’t had the kind of consistent confrontational run-ins that the likes of the Game Changers seemed to have on a regular basis. The two of them seemed to have come to a largely unspoken understanding of their roles in regards to one another and a quiet mutual respect had formed. That said, no matter where any given show was taking place Duncan always made sure to know where he could find the owner of the company should the need arise. Thus far it never had but there was always a first time for everything, so Duncan made his way to the room that for the night was serving as Trent Steel’s office.
He wrapped his knuckles firmly against the door three times.
“Who is it?” replied the voice from inside making no clear attempt to hide an edge of annoyance.
“It’s Shepard,” said Duncan.
“Come-” said Trent but Duncan was already halfway through the door before he could finish, “-in,” He said anyway. “Take a seat.”
“No thanks, this won’t take long. Have you booked EXP 29 yet?” said Duncan, closing the door behind himself then leaning back against it. Trent chuckled for a moment.
“This is why I have loved dealing with you since the beginning, Duncan. You go straight to the point when you want to know something. Nothing on the card is finalised yet,” said Trent. He leant forward with his forearms resting heavily against the edge of the desk. He touched the fingertips of each hand to their opposite counterparts. “You got something specific in mind that you want to go for?”
“Give me McAlroy. I don’t care if he’s only had his scrawny ass back in the door for ten minutes, it’s already time someone knocked some of his teeth out. May as well be me.”
Trent smirked at him, “You know Duncan, just because you’re the Final Boss doesn’t entitle you to come in here and start making demands,” He said firmly. Duncan couldn’t tell what Trent was trying to do. Goad him? Gauge his reaction? It didn’t matter to Duncan.
Duncan gave a nonplussed shrug, “What? Do you want me to say please or do you want to book a match that people are going to tune in to see?”
Trent didn’t say anything right away, just fixed Duncan with a steely gaze. “Very well then,” he said, “but it’ll be a title eliminator.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Duncan with a smirk as he pushed himself back up to stand straight and reached back for the door handle. “See you in a fortnight,” he said as he opened the door and slipped back out of it.
“Are we doing Shakespeare in the-?...” Trent said behind him but the door was already closed. If Duncan would have stuck around he would have heard the boss chuckle.
Later
Duncan sat and watched the rest of the show unfold. He watched the Wisdom title match. He watched Emily Simms be trotted out, dolled up like some kind of trophy and it made him sick.
When the match was over he watched the lights go out and with their return, Emily’s disappearance. He jolted at first as if he were going to shoot up out of his chair but he didn’t. Something screamed inside him that he needed to go out there, to find out what had happened, who had taken her? Was she safe and could he bring her back? He did love her after all, didn’t he?
He settled back into the chair. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. Barely said a word to one another since he’d told her how he felt after Doom. Now she was with Buster and Duncan had only found that out at the same time as the rest of the world, when they decided to suck face live on Pay Per View.
A little warning would have been nice. You deserve that small mercy.
He hadn’t done though and now, seeing Emily disappear like a cheap magic trick, he wondered if maybe it would be good for him if she were gone.
The Void - Endlessly
Shepard awoke with a start from a night of fitful sleep. In his nightmares he saw the salarian, the one from Angelios, the one who had taken the empowered artefact from him, the one he had found dead on Poe’s World. In those dreams Shepard was still on Poe’s World too, standing amid the wreckage and the ruin, the bodies and the blood. He would find the salarian, just as he had found him in reality, dead, laying in a heap on the group, neck snapped beside the void from which the Reaper would emerge. In reality the Salarian had just stared off lifelessly into the middle distance, in the dreams though he picked himself up off the ground. He swung his head to face Shepard, the head hanging limply atop his severed spine and appraised Shepard with its bulbous black eyes and laughed.
“Too late,” it taunted him, “too slow.”
Shepard would lunge at the Salarian in a fit of rage, intent to tear its unnaturally flopping head clean off its shoulder.
That was always when he woke up, with a sharp gasp of air and a jolt that ran through his body. He would find himself sweating and cold and his hands were numb. He would lay back and try to slow his breathing while he clenched and opened his fists to encourage the blood supply to return. Then he would stare up at the ceiling and consider whether it was worth getting out of bed today. He would reach over and grab the personal communication device from his nightstand but there wouldn’t be any messages on it. There never were. Eventually his body would tell him that he was hungry and desperate for a piss and once he had gotten up to do the latter he figured he may as well tend to the former as well. He dispensed himself a portion of protein enriched nutrient gruel. It was the same thing he ate for breakfast everyday. For a long time he had convinced himself he liked it but today, like many days he pushed it around the bowl unenthusiastically despite the protestations of his stomach demanding to be filled. It was good for him, that was why he kept eating it but he had grown tired of it and as he forced it down all he could think of was gorging himself on plates of waffles and chocolate chip pancakes and simply not caring how bad it was for himself. At least he’d enjoy it, however briefly. He thought he would at least, it was becoming harder and harder to tell these days.
He wondered what he would do today. He had nothing he had to do. Nothing he wanted to do. He figured he should go and work out, train, something like that. He didn’t want to. He was sore from the past several days of exertions and tired despite having only just woken up. At least it would feel like he had done something with his day though. At least he would feel something.
He sighed and stared out of the window. He hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when his dreams were of achievement, not failure. He could find joy in the simplest of things. He would daydream of being someone else, someone better, someone to aspire to being, or even simply a better version of himself. Now when he disengaged from the world and let his mind wander he saw only his flaws, his failings and the failings that were still to come.
And the lines between the world of his imagination and reality were becoming ever more difficult to perceive.
Some Day in Some Place - Does it matter?
The camera opens up on Duncan Shepard. He’s wearing his ring gear as usual although for the first time he’s sitting down on a plain black steel folding chair. Nothing is being displayed on any green screen behind him, he’s just sitting, seemingly alone in the dark. At the opening shot Duncan is sat slouched heavily, his head slumped back unsupported and looking uncomfortable. The Final Boss championship belt is laying across his lap. He doesn’t say anything for a while. He doesn’t even raise his head. The first movement he makes is to raise his right hand, his index finger pointed up. It is a gesture not aimed to draw your attention upwards, but to the general surroundings.
Duncan: You hear that?
His voice is flat and disinterested. Now he has drawn your attention though you realise you do hear something. It’s a constant high pitched whine like the sound you may expect from faulty audio equipment or the onset of tinnitus. At first you hadn’t registered it but now that you’ve consciously heard it, you can’t unhear it and it grates on you.
Duncan: That’s you Bert.
Finally Duncan deigns to raise his head and lets it flop forward lazily then glares down the camera from beneath his furrowed brow.
Duncan: Just a constant high pitched whine that everyone wishes would end. Fortunately for them-
With the same hand he had pointed up, Duncan presses his middle finger to his thumb and clicks. With the loud snap of his fingers the tinnitus whine stops abruptly.
Duncan: It will soon.
Duncan lowers his hand and leans forward earnestly. He looks down at his feet and sighs heavily before raising his head to look down the camera again.
Duncan: Or at least it would if you had a shred of dignity, but then every time you seem to open your mouth and throw some baseless accusation or make some preposterous self aggrandising claim it becomes more and more clear that you don’t.
Still leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Duncan picks up one side of the Final Boss title belt so that it drapes down the length of his forearm.
Duncan: I don’t ask much of people. I don’t have some elaborate rider I feel entitled to because I hold this championship. The only thing I do ask is that I receive the same respect that I put out into the world. What I mean is that I expect the likes of Tact to run their mouths. I have no respect for them so I am not so haughty as to expect any in return. You though Bert, you’re not the same as Larry.
Duncan moves the title belt from his lap to his right shoulder and leans back to slouch heavily in the chair again.
Duncan: You’re worse. From the first day I came to Level Up I never treated you with anything but respect. I tried to be your friend and what have I ever received from you in return? Only the same as everyone else, the constant entitled stream of your pompous arrogance. Nothing but running down the names of everyone around you in the name of exalting every one of your most meagre achievements.
Duncan grabs the belt from his shoulder and brandishes it towards the camera aggressively.
Duncan: I cheered for you Bert. While I was coughing up blood and fighting to breathe, someone told me that you had won this title and I cheered for you. Now it’s mine-
Duncan’s expression turns from anger to a mixture of sadness and confusion as he looks down at the belt in his hand.
Duncan: -and you do nothing but spit on everything I have done with this title and everything I did to get here.
Duncan shakes his head slowly and lays the belt back down across his knee.
Duncan: I’m done with you Bert. You have lost every drop of respect I ever had for you. What little I had left for you, that I had for the fact that you briefly held this title-
Duncan lays his right hand on the faceplate of the title.
Duncan: -has been spent on giving you this match, because you don’t deserve it Bert. You were a weak Final Boss just like you were a nothing Courage Champion. Then you were gone and in the time you were away I beat the man you could not, I defended this title twice, at Super Adventure Island I faced the toughest odds a Final Boss champion has ever had to face and won. Do you really think you deserve a shot at this because one day you fell on your ass faster than someone else?
Duncan smirked, the closest we’ve seen to a positive emotion since he started speaking.
Duncan: You try to brush me off as a pretender when I have already outshone you. I wonder if you even possess the self awareness to know how ridiculous you sound. It doesn’t matter though. It ends this week. It ends with me breaking you down and showing the world that you’re not on my level and you never have been. You’re not the greatest to ever do it, just one of the luckiest, but as all luck does in time, yours has just run out.
Duncan looks off to the side of the camera and draws his thumb in a cutting motion across his throat.
Duncan: Cut it.
Feb. '22 - Jul. '22
2022
2021/2022
Jun '21 - Jul '22