Post by dukewinchester on Jun 2, 2013 22:55:43 GMT
The
office is dimly lit. The walls behind where Duke Winchester is
standing are covered with various promotional posters, title belts
and photographs of various wrestlers. Winchester stands solemnly in
front of the oak desk, emotionless.
”Listen,
Duke. There's a reason I called you here at this hour. And I don't
want you to take this the wrong way. You've been invaluable serving
has the Head of Security here, but...”
The pause
was long and awkward.
”Listen,
boss. Just get on with it. You know I don't like politics or bull.
From the look on your face, it's either one or the other. So just be
straight with me.”
”Duke, you
need to find another job. We're shutting
down.”
”When
do you need me until?”
”We are
making the official announcement on June 29th. You will be
paid until then, whether you stay on with us or not. If you want to
walk out that door now, I'll
understand.”
”That
will be fine, boss. I'll see this through to the end. I appreciate
the notice.”
Winchester turns to walk out, he
hardly makes it three steps when he is interrupted by the man behind
the desk.
”Duke.. Thank
you.”
”You've
always been straight up and honorable with me. I owe you this much.
Have a good night, boss.”
To call his former
employer “honorable” had been a mistake. All the money that
Winchester had paid into the company, into retirement plans was wiped
out. One year later, his former employer was being arrested for
embezzlement. Duke had enough saved up to survive for a few months,
but with the economy the way it is, Duke Winchester had little
choice. He picked up the phone at the behest of a friend working for
the company and called up the IWF corporate offices and was
immediately offered a contract. At the age of 52, he was now broke
and his marriage was suffering. He signed the contract without
hesitation. For the first time in over a decade, Duke Winchester was
about to step into the ring, not as a member of security, but as an
active
wrestler.
Walking
through the halls of the IWF Corporate Offices, Duke Winchester was a
bit of an anomaly. While muscular men of his size and stature, men of
his age certainly were not. Still, if he was drawing any undue
attention, Duke Winchester seemed completely unfazed by it. The truth
of the matter, however, is that Duke was more nervous than a turkey
the day before Thanksgiving.
Winchester stops walking
momentarily, taking a moment to look up at a sign hanging over his
head directing him to the studios. He turns to his left and continues
walking. The best way to describe how Duke was feeling at that moment
would be to compare him to a duck. On the surface, a duck on the
water appears to be calm and mellow. Meanwhile, underneath the water,
a duck's feet are going at a frantic pace, allowing it to swim.
Instead of his feet, it was his mind that was
racing.
”It's just
like riding a bicycle,” Duke says under his breath to
no one in particular. A few moments later, he arrives at the IWF
Studios. Duke walks in and tips his black Stetson to the woman at the
reception desk.
”Good
afternoon, Ma'am. Name's Winchester. Duke Winchester. I should be
scheduled to shoot some promotional footage at two
o'clock.”
The receptionist checks her schedule
and looks up at Duke.
”Here
you are, Mr. Winchester. I see you're a bit
early.”
”Call
me old fashioned, but if I'm not fifteen minutes early, than I'm
running late.”
”I
wish more people felt that way. You get one guy running five minutes
later and it just messes up the schedule for the entire
day.”
The woman shows Duke into the studio
proper where Duke exchanges pleasantries with the crew. The director
starts to go over what he expects when Duke stops
him.
”Forgive me for
being rude, but I'm an old hand at this. All I need is one shot. I'd
say more than a few of these gray hairs has come as a result of doing
this.”
As bad as the joke is, the crew laughs.
Maybe out of politeness, or maybe they laughed because they found the
joke legitimately funny. Either way, the ice is broken and everyone
loosens up. Duke walks in front of the camera and begins rubbing the
back of his neck, trying to shake the jitters. The director starts
counting down from ten. ”Here
goes nothing,” Duke says to himself as the director
gets to three. A few short moments later, the red “recording”
light on the camera turns on and all the butterflies and jitters
disappear.
”June 3rd
marks the in ring debut of Duke Winchester. Obviously I'm not the
next big rookie sensation, nor am I the hottest free agent in the
business. In fact, my last match was over eleven years ago. Which
probably makes you folks at home wonder what the hell I'm doing on
your television.”
“Well, the last time I was on a
televised wrestling program, I was working in another company,
keeping the boys in the locker room in line. But times have changed
and “Old Man” Winchester gets to be a little more hands on.
There's two things the boys in the back, and you folks watching this
are going to learn about me. The first is that if I tell you I am
going to do something, you bet your bottom dollar that I am going to
try my damnedest to do it. The second thing you will find out about
me is that I don't take crap from anyone, and that starts with Andrew
Jacobsen and Jake Keeton.”
“Now, I'll tell both of you
right now, I might be an old man, but I have one advantage over the
two of you. You both have spent the last ten years or so taking your
beatings, accumulating injuries and what not. I've had the luxury of
working as the head of a security detail, giving me the freedom to
train without having the decade of abuse you two have taken to deal
with. And I assure you, gentlemen, that I never stopped training. In
my line of work, the only thing taking it easy would get you is hurt,
same as you boys in the ring every week.”
“Now Jacobsen,
I'm not going to lie, you pretty much piss me the hell off. When I
look at you I see so much potential, but at the same time, you sit
there and try to be funny. You might find some success in your career
with that approach, but I will tell you now, funny doesn't equal
money. Taking someone the caliber of Buddy Drift is no small feat,
but at the same time, you still couldn't win your match. All it takes
is someone like Jake Keeton or myself to smack the ever livin' piss
out of you and that should knock you down a few pegs. I've seen it
many times in my career. Hell, I lived it when I was young and
stupid.”
“I know where you came from, Jacobsen. Fact of
the matter is, I don't really care all too much, either. I mean,
hell, look at Jake Keeton's resume. The man is a 17 year veteran,
three time Hall of Famer, 100 plus time champion, and how much of
that matters now? Not a single damned bit of it. What does matter is
the fact that Jake Keeton is a hell of an athlete. What does matter
is that Jake Keeton, having the best record in this match, is the man
to beat. What matters more than anything else, Jacobsen, is the fact
that Jake Keeton isn't treating this match like a damned joke and
giving us tongue in cheek answers when he's asked about the
match.”
“And Keeton, I will admit that I am damned
impressed with your resume. But like I told Chuckles, your resume
means about as much to me as my age means to you. I don't know if I
will win or lose this match, quite frankly I couldn't care less
either way. Would I like to win? Of course. But I know how these
things go. When's all said and done, I plan on standing in the middle
of the ring having at the very least having earned your
respect.”